#random thoughts about fantasy races

[javaberrychip1998]

Assorted thoughts about fairy textiles/fashion:

Obviously fairies use leaves and flowers and stuff like that as fabrics. They use pixie/fairy dust to make the materials stronger and easier to work with. A single strand of silkworm thread or spider silk is often used to sew things together, with a pine needle or dry, thin blade of grass as a needle. (Porcupine quills are far too long, more likely used for spears and other weapons) For fairies in regions where they can’t farm insects for thread, thin blades of grass can also be used as thread, though the stitches will be more prominent.

Materials are used in accordance to their availability. Because of this, most fairy clothing is green, as leaves of many shapes and sizes, as well as grass, are abundant in most fairy regions. Flower petals come in a variety or rarity that effects their price accordingly. The most common color after green is yellow, with dandelions and buttercups being plentiful. Dandelions in particular are used as fluffy skirts for fairy children, or as hats. There was a brief fad of using dandelions as wigs, for fashionable yellow hair, but the trend was short-lived. (Obviously once dandelions turn to fluff, they are very affordable resource used for stuffing pillows, comforters, and children’s toys)

Next most common is white and then pink. Pale pink isn’t too rare, but brighter pinks are usually saved for special occasions. Rhododendrons are a classic choice for a prom dress. Purples are less common, and blue clothing is very rare, usually reserved for fairy nobles and royalty.

The color rules are of course not absolute, as ultimately it depends on the rarity of the flower itself. Fairies that reside in a garden will often have more of a variety to choose from than those that live in more wild areas. Fairies with a particular interest in fashion will frequently choose to live in a garden for this very reason. However, fairies from wilder areas may even travel a fair distance to secure a rose or lily for a special occasion. Fairies with enough wealth or status can have the rarer materials brought to them for a price. In particular, flowers with a very brief blooming-period (like magnolias) are incredibly expensive, and are a favorite of the highest of royalty. An orchid will likely only be seen on the fairy queen herself.

The common fairies will much more often be seen in clover, grass, dandelions, and the occasional violet. Even amongst the mass of green clothing, there is still a good variety, as there are many different shapes and patterns and shades of leaves a fairy can use. This of course varies greatly depending on the region. Any time that fairy nobles travel long distances for political purposes, a fairies home can easily be determined by what they wear.

The most common armor is made of pinecones as plate-mail, with acorns as helmets. Maple seeds can even be used as wing-covers for protection, particularly for young fairies who’s wings are still developing. Thick blades of grass make decent belts, and any particularly sturdy leaf is used for more practical items like bags or shoes, which need the extra structure. Another use for sturdy blades of grass is as boning for corsets. The fluffy and abundant petals of a clover make for a lovely petticoat. Flowers that are too small to use as clothing will often be used as hats or jewelry, or other adornments.

Insect wings may be used occasionally for fashion purposes, though it is somewhat controversial, similar to human opinions on fur and leather. The ethics of it is hotly debated.

[featherymainffins]

Sci-fi worldbuilding is like a thing that really hates you and wants you dead

[another-lost-mc]

Can you imagine the om! cast flirting with mc and thinking they're mc's only romantic interest when mc already has a booty call at RAD? There are no feelings involved, just intimacy, but still. I think the cast is too arrogant to ever think mc could be interested in anyone else.

(English is not my native language, so please excuse any possible mistakes)

a/n: that’s fair! I mean, mc has needs too, right? maybe trying to hook up with one of the avatars is daunting, but a hot lower-ranking demon lord who promises a good time every once in a while? that could be fun.

➤ when they find out you have a fwb | the demon brothers

0.9k words | nsfw | suggestive | gn!reader

c/w: jealousy and implied dark themes/sketchy behaviour squints at beel and belphie

read more: the dateables | when solomon is your fwb

Lucifer finds it hard to believe at first. Once he knows the demon’s name, he watches you two interact more closely. He picks up on the shared glances and flirtatious touches he somehow missed before. He’s been stewing in his own desires and feelings for you all this time because he wasn’t sure the best way to declare his intentions. He thought subtlety and patience would be best, but perhaps he can admit just this once that he was mistaken. Learning about your dalliances with someone else finally gives him the push to show you what a real demon lover can offer you. Once you have the Avatar of Pride to warm your bed, you'll be satisfied with no one else but him.

Mammon is one part incredulous, one part jealous, and just a teensy bit turned on. He can’t stop staring at the blurry photo Asmo managed to take of you sneaking out of a utility closet at RAD. His cock twitches when he takes in the image of your rumpled clothes and the way your forehead glistens from a light sheen of sweat. He wants to make you look like that, not some random nobody that doesn't deserve you. His mind races when he imagines his own fingers tugging your clothes aside for better access to your naked body. What did you sound like when you tried to muffle your moans so no one would hear you? Mammon would give anything to take that demon’s place. Y’know, both of you have a spare period after lunch—would you follow him into one of the dark corners of RAD for a little fun if he offered? Maybe it’s time for him to find out.

Levi is seething. Mostly he’s angry and jealous and he wants to tear the building to pieces. He’s also ashamed because the fantasy of you dragging him into an empty room at RAD for a midday fuck is hot as hell. He doesn’t think he deserves you, but he knows that the demon you’re fucking doesn’t either. What do they have that he doesn’t? He’s burning with curiosity about your little affair, but he’s incensed by the idea that he might not be good enough for you. Envy can make him a little desperate. He's tempted to beg you for even a morsel of your love and affection. If he's pathetic enough, maybe you'll even take pity on him and oblige.

Satan is furious because he should’ve realized something was going on. The signs are all there and he missed them somehow. It takes all his willpower not to hunt down your little demon friend for daring to touch you that way. Satan is well-versed in human world literature—maybe declaring his intentions with a romantic gesture would convince you to give him a chance instead? Or maybe sweet and romantic love isn’t what you crave. If fast and rough is more to your tastes, all you need to do is mention your friend’s name—you’ll be too fucked out of your mind to remember it by the time he’s finished with you.

Asmo’s reactions are all over the place: he’s giddy that you’re so daring (fucking at RAD of all places!); he’s devastated that you turned to someone else instead of coming to him; and he’s frustrated that he didn’t realize sooner this was even happening. He pays more attention after he catches you the first time, and it seems so obvious when the current of lust between you and your friend flickers with interest throughout the school day. He finds reasons to keep you two from sneaking off together and pretends he’s not jealous every time he interferes. Perhaps when you’re frustrated enough, he can finally entice you to join him for a little pampering session in his room. You seem so frustrated today! But don’t worry—he knows exactly what you need to loosen up.

Beel is one of the few demons that understands what hunger and starvation feels like. Sometimes you need to do whatever it takes to satisfy those cravings, even on a temporary basis. You’re important to him, and he cherishes your friendship. He’s hidden his true desires from you because he doesn’t want to risk losing control if he’s too hasty, too rough, or too demanding before you're ready to embrace being with someone like him. His love is all-consuming and you're a constant strain on his self-control. If you weren’t turning to someone else for affection, maybe he could be patient and satisfy his urges for you elsewhere. Now that he knows someone else has had a taste of you, he wants you even more. When he finally confesses his desire to be with you, he hopes for both your sakes that you feel the same.

Belphie lashes out with barbed insults and backhanded compliments to hide his own hurt and jealousy. You’re not that bad looking for a human, I guess it was only a matter of time before someone wanted to fuck you. Once he learns the truth about that demon you’ve been fooling around with, he’s suddenly glued to your hip like he can’t stand to be parted from you. He’s selfish with your time and clings to you in his bed during naps. He sneaks his way into your dreams because he wants to make sure you’re not dreaming of anyone else. He might even have a private chat with your little friend, but he doesn’t tell you since it’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s a shame that your fuck buddy suddenly decides to call things off between you after that. At least you still have Belphie to comfort you and wipe away your tears. He appreciates you, even if that random asshole doesn’t—the only demon you ever needed has been here for you all along.

[onsunnyside]

🍓° 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝗣𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | Mafia!Ari Levinson x lovesick!reader

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | fluff, sweet soft!reader, she’s a little oblivious. size difference: 6’8!Ari, he’s a total beefy hunk. neighbours au, a little tumble, stripper!reader, brief mentions of mafia business, undeniable daddy energy.

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | It was a little ridiculous how in love you were… With a single glance, he could make you melt until you’re a pile strawberry ice cream, tied with a pretty ribbon, and sitting on his doorstep.

𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐎𝟑

𝗪/𝗖 | 2.45K

𝗔/𝗡 | just a little something I wrote inspired by Melting by Kali Uchis (also where the title is from). this is my first mafia fic but there isn’t much detail since this is a real itty bitty au. as always, all mistakes are my own. [all posts/asks]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

˗ˏˋ𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭ˎˊ˗ ⋰˚ 𝐂.𝐄. & 𝐂𝐨. 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Time seems to slow when he jogs by, clad in shorts and a loose tank top with sweat seeping through the grey. His tan skin is covered in a light sheen, making the dozens of tattoos appear darker. From your seat on the porch, they still look like black blobs and lines stretching from his broad shoulders to his hands. 

You’ve never seen them up close, but you have a few ideas of what they might be—a whole page in your diary to be exact. 

Your eyes fall to his muscled legs, firm and thick thighs strain his shorts and just the beginnings of dark ink poke from underneath the fabric. You barely notice the ice cream melting down the cone to your hands, too deep in a daze when tingles blossom from your chest to your toes. A dreamy sigh flows from your lips as the wind flutters through his long brown hair, brushing along his bearded cheeks. 

He turns to you and flashes a bright smile before turning the corner and disappearing down the street. That single glance makes your heart pound ten times faster, and all of your thoughts tangle into one ball of ribbons, varying in colours, prints and lace, but so evidently you. 

If you could, you’d gift him that mess just so he could know how much he affected you without even trying. 

"Oh no!" You quickly wipe your hands from the melting strawberry ice cream but it's useless, the pink stains your white dress and drips down to the ribbon around your ankle. 

It’s almost too symbolic—the pretty pink bleeds all over your ivory clothes, ruining your life just like the fluttering trapped in your rib cage. 

Honestly, it would’ve been easier to hate him, but he was so damn big that you didn’t have any space left in your heart to hate him. 

To say you're in love would be an understatement. In every fantasy and daydream, he's the main focus, your co-star, your lover, your saviour draped in silk button-ups and silver rings. Oh, he's everything you've ever wanted! As if you manifested him when you were a young child and wrote about the perfect boy to sweep you off your feet and make your life a living fairytale—everything you scribbled in glittery pen has come true before your very eyes.

You don’t even mind that he and his biker friends rev their engines at three in the morning, but your roommate doesn’t agree, she’s never agreed. 

The front door slams shut and you stiffen, hurriedly flipping through a random page in a magazine and desperately trying to act like you were not staring at his house next door. 

"Did you do it?"

"Do what?" You ask, voice already on edge. Vibrant red hair comes into your peripherals, as well as a pair of angry green eyes. 

Natasha groans, setting down her bag on the kitchen counter. "You chickened out again? I need my sleep before I lose my mind. I can’t get any if he and his dumbass friends treat this street like a fucking race track!”

“They aren’t even that loud—and I bought you earplugs.” 

“I am not touching those things until those assholes learn how to be decent human beings!” She rolls up her sleeves and grabs your arm, yanking you from the barstool. 

"Wait! What are you doing!" 

Her heels stomp on the hardwood floor, nearly shaking the picture frames on the walls, “I messed up five drinks today, do you know how bad that looks when they’re my recipes?” She huffs, "he's out there right now mowing his lawn and you're gonna talk to him."

You grab onto the nearest thing which happened to be the couch and clutched it for dear life. “No—you do it!”

"He doesn’t listen to me!" She digs her fingers into your sides making you yelp and feebly swat her away, but you just screwed up big time. “Just try, baby, please! For me!”

That’s the last thing you hear as you stumble out the front door, tripping over the damn welcome mat and tumbling down the stairs. It’s only a few steps, but it stings when your back thumps onto the stone walkway, your poor elbows cushioning your fall.  

You barely catch the engine cutting and rushed footsteps before he appears. 

He stands over you with sweat brimming at his hairline, a deeply concerned expression etched onto his face, "awh shit, are you okay?" 

As always, the air goes thin and you’re under that dumb lovesick spell again. The sun glows around his head like a halo, melting you to the bone, and leaving a mess on the stone in the same shades as your love—strawberry ice-cream pink. 

It’s terrible that you don’t know how deluded your tender heart is.

"You're bleeding," he crouches low, gently examining your elbow, "did your roommate push you down the stairs?” 

"No! No, I-I fell.” Obviously! “But I'm okay." You utter, avoiding the peeping redhead through the curtains. Your gaze lands on his long fingers wrapped around your arm. He’s warm, warmer than you thought. Heat radiates off his body and envelops you like an old friend, familiar and calm. 

"Are you?" He inquires unconvinced, "here, let me clean you up." He leaves no room for protests as he helps you up and leads you to his porch. 

After you sit on the couch, he disappears inside the house before emerging with a large white case. He sits next to you and opens the kit on the table.

"That's a lot of stuff." You note, staring at the packed first aid kit. There are various rolls of gauze, different ointments, and bandages, far more things than your tiny plastic box under the sink. 

Judging by his shiny sports car, and his collection of perfectly tailored suits and watches, Ari lived a very different life than you and you’d do anything to know about it. Your naive heart aches for him so badly it almost hurts. 

“It’s better to be safe than sorry. Can I touch you, sweetheart?” 

You watch him tend to your injury with slow and careful movements, his dark brows knitted in concentration. You’ve never been this close to him, the sudden rush of blood almost makes you lightheaded, but his scent brings you back down. The woody cologne floods your nose, followed by a dash of vanilla with underlinings of musky spice.

“What happened to your other dress?” He glances up, eyes shaded under his thick lashes. 

“Oh… It got dirty.” 

He hums, “what a shame.” He delicately presses down the edges of the bandage. “That’s one of my favourites. It always makes my day to see you wearing it.” 

You swallow down a whimper and clench your thighs, seconds away from dropping to your weak knees. Embarrassment fills your chest, tinged with guilt, “I’m sorry, sir.” The words slip out before you could think.

He cracks a small smile, shaking his head, “it’s okay, just be more careful next time, yeah? Can’t have you ruining the little purple one too, that’s my second favourite.”

Dull thumps hammer inside your head, muffling his raspy voice. You nod silently, digging your sock-clad feet into the concrete. 

You take the chance to memorize his tattoos, from the intricate rose by his wrist following the thorn stems up his arm where they entwined with a heavily shaded skull. Thin script is scattered along his skin, you can’t make out the exact words but they’re in swooping cursive, clinging to his flesh like wet chiffon. 

His arms tighten as he cleans up, the muscles shifting under his paper-thin t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Every unconscious flex clouds your head, tunnelling your vision until he’s all you can see.  A small whine sounds from your throat and his eyes flicker to yours, blue as can be. 

“I don’t see you leave very often.” You were either inside or sitting on the front porch with a treat and a magazine, or in the backyard tending to that small garden. “Do you work?”

“I… I did, then I got fired.” The wound was still a little fresh. “But it wasn’t my fault, I swear!”

Ari perks up in interest, although he knows plenty about you, this was strikingly new. Aside from your basic profile, he knew about your past as well, including where you grew up, where your parents lived, and how long you’ve been in this city. 

It was only right to know about the two girls living next to his late grandmother’s house. Curtis insisted since Ari wouldn’t let him stay in the old two-storey home, but instead the house down the street.

He came here to be alone and mourn, but that was hard to do with a cute neighbour always staring at him. Yet he stopped caring after you left a small bouquet of hand-picked flowers on his doorstep and an adorable ‘welcome to the neighbourhood!’ note. 

He forgot how good it felt to be sought after, rather than feared and honoured like a living legend. You gave him that sliver of normalcy with your longing loved-up looks and quick dashes inside when he pulled into the driveway. To you, sweet-spirited you, he was an ordinary guy, not someone with a history coloured in hues of red and dripping all over his shoes, smearing the black ink of his future; an eternity tied to his family’s glory that’s now his. 

“This customer was being so mean and I know I should’ve stayed professional but I was havin’ such a bad day already.” Your bottom lip trembles, flashes of that terrible day flickering through your head, “first I slept through my alarm, then I missed the bus, and my make-up broke in my bag a-and everything was all ruined.”

He reaches out, rubbing your knee soothingly. Poor girl, if it was up to him, you’d never be mistreated. “Where did you work?”

“Venom Vixens.” You sniffle, hoping he isn’t the judgemental type, you’ve known too many people who would humiliate you for your chosen career. “I, uh, I wasn’t one of the girls on stage since I was still new but I liked it there. My coworkers were nice, I got free drinks, and…”

“And?”

“I felt,” you look down at your hands, they were so much smaller than his, “I felt pretty. People go there to look and flirt, and I didn’t mind being on the receiving end of it.” 

Ari wouldn’t mind giving you all of that instead. 

He licks his lips, imagining you in a tiny lace set, the sheer fabric clinging to your figure while you swayed around the dimly lit club. A piece of art in the sea of ogling and drooling patrons, blooming beautifully under the flattery. 

“You liked the attention.” 

You giggle, “Yeah, a lot. Sure, some customers were gross and would say nasty things, but others were nice, real nice—they’d tip a lot and compliment me. Most of them were just lonely, they wanted someone to talk to or someone to spoil.” 

You don’t regret accepting their fawning or expensive gifts, hell, most of your jewelry was from your loyal clients. Sparkly things paired with sweet words were a one-way ticket to your good books. 

“How about your boss?” Ari asks, “how did he treat you?”

Venom Vixens wasn’t only a haven for the lonely or where perverts got their fill, but of course, you wouldn’t know that. You’d have a heart attack if you knew of the shady people who walked in and out of those doors, you’ve probably served a few of them, flashed that bright smile and earned yourself a big tip—unknowingly pocketing the filthy, blood-stained money. 

“Mr. Hansen was very friendly, but everything went through him. If we wanted to change a routine, we had to perform it for him first and get his approval. He said it was protocol.” Ari snorts but you don’t catch it, all too distracted with twisting the ring on his middle finger. “He was nice when you were nice to him.”

“So he must’ve always been kind to you. You’re the loveliest girl I’ve ever met.”

You preen under his praise and nod happily, questioning why you were so nervous around him in the first place.

Ari was a flirt—and you loved being flirted with. 

“Mr. Hansen called me his favourite before he fired me. That was over two weeks ago, and Nat said I could take my time but,” you sigh, “I feel like a bother.” 

He wonders if your best friend would still hate him if she knew he was the reason that her cafe was still standing. Without his ruling over the South district, there would be chaos, and that little joint would’ve been ransacked long ago. 

Did he also call for extra protection because you frequented the establishment? Proudly so. 

“Are you still looking for a job?” He takes your distant hum as a yes, “Do you want to work for me?”

Your head snaps up, your sparkling eyes wide in surprise. 

“I’m opening a new club in a few days and I’ve got a spot left for a performer.” He didn’t, but he had no problem giving someone the boot to make room for you. 

Your mouth opens and closes several times, and the thought of Ari owning a club flies straight over your head. You’ve watched him more than your favourite movie but you still didn’t know a damn thing about him, except that he smokes, liked to work out and alternated between a white mustang and a sleek black motorcycle. 

Oh, and sometimes he changes in front of his bedroom window. 

“You’ll be my boss?”

Say the word, and he’ll be much more than that.

He smirks, gripping your jaw and turning you from side to side, blue eyes flickering over your features, “Sure will. I have a feeling this pretty face will be the main attraction every night.”

Your heart swells when his fingers dig into your cheeks. “I-I would, but Nat won’t like that. She kind of hates you… and your friends.” He adds pressure and your lips pucker, “you’re all s-ho loud wit ya’  bikes ‘n engines.”

Ari bites his tongue, it was either the motorcycles or the blood-curdling screams of the poor soul in the basement. He made a mental note to speed up the process of that soundproof room, he couldn’t have you losing sleep over his business. 

“She doesn’t have to know.” He replies, releasing your face in favour of loosely grasping your throat. Your pulse thumps under his fingers, hard and fast, speeding up as he leans closer, “c’mon, don’t you want to be a star? Get all that attention again and make me proud?”

𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: i just love sweet!readers, they're my faves 🥹 and pairing them with big hunky (secretly soft) men is heaven !! i can't get enough !!!!

𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞! I love you all very much 😚🫶

As always, I hope you all enjoyed this and I’d love to hear your thoughts/feedback !! <3 — ☼ 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐊𝐨-𝐟𝐢 ☼

I don’t do taglists anymore. ˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 & 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲: @𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲

[imaybe5tupid]

Laios and Marcille play the Daltian Clan CRPG part 2

Marcille is 100% a terrible backseat driver with games. And she is also baring her heart and soul with her most beloved media property and most beloved character (who got her through many lonely days growing up as a half elven child with no one else like her around) and Laios is doing the equivalent of looking at his phone sometimes and only paying attention to the character he has a crush on, or acting in murderhobo ways instead of paying full attention.

Also, for the record, I personally think the person who resembles Forva most is actually Rinsha (and it’s not even close, like the exact hairstyle and clothes are the same too! she’s even brooding and quietly sensitive too) But Laios dgaf about her and it’s just like him to be reminded of Shuro in that juvenile way that he likes to think of him sometimes lmao. In my marcille x rin Yuriverse Marcille also would Realise its Rin…and gaf…but I already made that joke in my other comic.

rambling hcs and criticism of Kui’s deisgn choices for the elves under the cut

I saw people pointing out how like every single elf who appears is silver-haired or blond, with light-coloured eyes (I think Mithrun’s eyes being dark are a stylistic choice, they’re canonically silver imo still). Kui kind of shot herself in the foot with her aesthetic preferences because silver hair is canonically supposed to be rare (Mithrun’s backstory, Flamela’s omake) but like every random elf in the background has it 😭 She had that one elf with black hair in her canary concept art, as well as one bg character I think? But anyway her doing this gave me a brain-blast moment about how Marcille can still be the princess of Wasia I know her to be in my heart (you don’t need canonical basis for hc ofc, but it bums me out when nonwhite interpretations have to settle for less connection to the thoughtfulness of canon in media). I like to think of black hair and dark eyes in elves as being like the equivalent of naturally silver/white hair or rare light-coloured eyes (like purple etc.) in tallmen. Theoretically possible but so rare, and overrepresented in media for their novelty. It’s also interesting to me if mixed elves all have dark hair in media as visual shorthand, but ACTUAL mixed elven individuals with that hair and eye colouring are extremely rare in reality. Similar to how dark hair and eyes are dominant IRL so its unlikely for a child of a union of a parent who is dark haired/ dark eyed parent and a light haired/light eyed parent, to have light hair or eyes. But like the reverse for elves! Few mixed elves actually have dark eyes and dark hair, but the incidence of that colouring is still higher than the general population of elves. 🤔 Also I think its an interesting (and imo realistic) kind of cultural concept/way of thinking for Marcille to internalise. I also like the idea of long-lived ethnic groups being kind of like Ancient analogues of modern ones among short-lived races. Since long-lived races often have this like Ancient History theming you know hearkening back to Rome or Greece etc. Marcille’s mom is from fantasy Zhou dynasty.

I personally have always been somewhat annoyed by Kui’s choice to do kind of “aracial” designs for the elves. You can really see it strongly when comparing the little bonus pages for each race which feature a collection of varied designs (she clearly tries to depict different features in the other races). I understand what she was trying to do, they do successfully come off as strange aliens and it plays on established tropes for elves (who are themselves hrgh…there is something so 🙃 about white fantasy nerds fantasising about a race of Naturally Beautiful Exceedingly Conventional Aryans, Kui came up with better lore reasons for Elves to be admired for their beauty) while conserving the information that needs to be used in her story. It also makes you focus more on the differences between fantasy races and similarities within them which she is trying so hard to convey. Of course there’s also the limitations of her own art style, but I don’t buy that as an excuse since it hasn’t stopped her making such distinctive white characters. It feels very cowardly (from an author who normally is braver than you’re average mangaka) to me..particularly with how the majority of elves who appear and have actual characters are quite unambiguously interpreted (and imo meant to be interpreted ) as white. The elves who appear also are very specifically from abroad (so there’s no “regional” reason for them to be so homogenous), and there are clear attempts via background characters being darker skinned to imply a multiracial society. But in that toothless colourblind way you often see in fantasy. The kind of Roman/Greek aesthetics used for the elves (both visually and in their lore/worldbuilding) already naturally lends itself to more compelling explanations PERSONALLY but also I genuinely think she just hasn’t maybe thought that deep about it or arrived at a conclusion maybe? She cares more about fleshing out the fantasy aspects and I respect that.

But you compare how much she gaf about researching historically accurate European clothing, and making the designs for her white characters and its like…girl. Many such cases where Kui has so deeply thought out and researched things, that the areas that she didn’t put so much care stick out like a sore thumb. The nonwhite characters (with the PARTIAL exception of Kabru in like doodles, and ofc the Japanese characters which she’s already familiar with) get kind of…comparatively no thought at all. It is also troubling that the most prominent dark skinned women are like evil and sexualised asf (cithis, love her down though) or aggressive (flamela, though literally being obsidian skinned I doubt even Kui would have intended for her to be read as someone who would be a dark skinned tallwoman, since she’s clearly based on drow and theres been MUCH AND MORE about the Everything of them that there’s no way shes not aware and would make a blunder like that. But I think it’s still worth noting, even though Flamela’s personality has a lot of thoughtful lore explaining it). Personally I think this happened in that kind of unthinking 2014 non black tumblr way of being like yessss sexyyyy in an inappropriate way about dark skinned women, without thinking deeper about the reasons they percieve these women in these ways. Like she did it because she thinks its hot and appealing to her. The cursed asf way that Kui drew Hexxat and Dynaheir in her Baldur’s Gate drawings also makes me less inclined to be generous to her about this. The absence of black characters too in a setting that’s literally the Mediterranean is also kind of crazy to me lol. I’m not black myself so I can’t offer much here but like I think it’s worth for Dungeon Meshi fans to have space for these critical conversations more among all of the praise of Kui as a creator.🫶 There is no reason for the kid gloves that are often afforded japanese creators from the anglosphere, for her or anyone. Like we can and should expect better, its not that she’s just a product of a society where the rarity of positive/thoughtful representations of black characters are Just How It Is (also a disingenuous concept in itself).

ANYWAY just my thoughts I’ve had for a while and they’re tangentially related to my comic so it’s going in here.

[dunmeshistash]

in regards to skin tone variation in DM, i do think a lot of it is colorism/racism too. theres a few characters of color, but not many (just like how theres some fatter characters, but none of them are main characters (even senshi & other dwarves arent really depicted as fat)).

ryoko kui has surface representation for these people, but it lacks much substance, and the brown characters she does draw arent given brown facial features, and are almost always colored with very ashy skin. a lot of them just look like a recolored white person (especially cithis, kaka, & kiki). her random portraits of characters who dont actually appear in the series otherwise tend to be much better about this, but the actual characters that show up and play a part all seem to suffer from this issue.

im not saying kui is like, super-duper racist and we all need to stop reading DM etc etc, but i think its important to recognize and point out everyday/usually-overlooked colorism & racism when we see it, and i know im not the first or only person to point this out about her character designs. if she can draw fat people and actual brown people as part of the portraits, why cant she or wont she do the same for any of the featured characters in the series?

(i know the orcs are fat, but its not a good thing the only consistently fat people are the ones who are a fantasy race based off of violent racial stereotypes, who are also pig people, while none of the main cast of "real" humans are fat except *maybe* the dwarves, who still have small waists and flat stomachs, and the lord of the island, who is depicted as corrupt & decadent)

Well yeah.

I'm just a lore blog so I don't like to get too into real life issues or make assumptions about how the author feels about these subjects. What I talked about on the skin tone post was assumptions as to why she thought it would be important to show skin tone variations on certain races as a character design choice. (In the sense that her character design is very purposeful)

I realize some people over praise Kui's designs when most of it is pretty safe for what it is, but even if it's just a step closer to better representation it's something that's rare to see in anime. So I understand why some people get so excited about it.

It is important to realize this isn't the ideal either (Dark skinned characters with the same features as the others, mostly well build characters on the thinner side) but I personally don't like to criticize these type of stories on what it "could/should have been".

As someone who is fat and not white, I'm happy we get some diversity in dungeon meshi. I hope this opens up the possibility of better character design in the future even if what we got now wasn't perfect.

It shouldn't be the case that this piece of art filled me with so much joy I teared up cause I had never seen someone with a similar body to mine drawn with so much respect and objectivity. But unfortunately that's the world we live in and I don't think it's wrong to be happy for what we get for now while acknowledging it's not perfect and that it should be better.

I'm also super happy the anime chose to make the dark characters even darker.

[strawberrynightmare]

Mikey, Mitsuya, Koko & Izana with foodie s/o

Content warning: Just Izana being a little bit... extreme

Koko

~It all started when he took you birthday shopping. The two of you went to a mall and he told you to take anything you want and not look at the price, to which you hesitantly agreed. He expected to be dragged into a clothing or electronics shop. Whatever you wanted; jackets, shoes, bags, perfumes, headphones, games, or maybe, once you get more confident, a phone, tablet, laptop? Or even a tv?

~He got so lost in his fantasies it took him a few minutes to comprehend your current whereabouts. 

~...A grocery store.

~Well, that’s fine. It’s completely reasonable that you’d want to do groceries. Duties first, pleasures second. Although he had to assure you that he’s more than happy to pay for your overflowing shopping cart full of sweets, snacks, cheese and other stuff.  He didn’t let you carry everything yourself, either. He insisted he carries at least 3/4 of them.

~Then the two of you went to get pizza. For that, he paid without even asking. Of course, it wouldn’t be good to shop hungry. And then a sweet dessert - ice cream!

~And when he thought that this is where the actual shopping trip starts, you said that you were done and thanked him. He looked at you as if you were insane. Surely, you must have been joking. 

~But instead of saying “just kidding”, you asked him if there’s anywhere he wants to go. This man was so flabbergasted that he just shook his head and silently walked you home. 

~It didn’t take him long to accept his fate and change his strategy, though. 

~Instead of more “classic” gifts, he began to buy you food. And rather than to the shopping malls, he took you to some of the most recommended restaurants. Pretty chill about it too. Although only for as long as he gets to pay. He can get petty when you don’t let him. The two of you literally race to the checkpoint

~And no, you are not visiting McDonald's, KFC or such things. He’s willing to (respectfully) argue with you about that. Why would you even look at their trash-quality food, when he’s more than willing to pay for something healthier and tastier? *proceeds to wave his credit card in front of your face until you give up*

~If there’s a specific food you crave out of the blue, all you have to do is text him. He’ll order it for you. Hell, he’ll even order anything he sees advertised on the internet that he thought you might like, so don’t get surprised when you get random parcels delivered to your door.

~If you’re worried about your eating habits, he’ll suggest visiting a dietician and will even accompany you there. Won’t force you or stick his nose into your eating habits unless it’s clearly dangerous for your health, though. Most of the time he just supports every decision you make.

~Literally the definition of “Eat whatever you want, I can pay.”

Izana

~Okay this guy 100% loves to watch you eat. You can’t convince me otherwise. 

~Like, imagine you’re casually enjoying your waffles and he sits right in front of you, staring at you, drilling holes into your soul with his gaze. Like this ◉_◉. He doesn’t even order anything for himself no matter how many times you ask him if he’s sure that he’s not hungry. 

~Your boyfriend literally can get high on dopamine from watching you eat something you like. He doesn’t get bored. Each time the two of you meet, he just kinda gives you some kind of a snack and at this point, you don’t even question it, cause he’s gonna do it either way. The two of you start talking, he automatically extends his hand with a snack towards you and you automatically take it without missing a beat. 

~The moment you split your food in half and offered it to him, he was so moved. In his mind, he swore to protect you forever. I’ve seen memes about girlfriends saying they don’t want anything to eat and then eat their boyfriend’s food. Which kind of resembles him because he’ll only eat if it’s from your plate. Can’t get his own for his life. 

~I can clearly imagine a scenario where a gang fight occurs and all of the enemies get heavily beaten up except for that one guy who’s captured at the very beginning and then, at the end, they let him go with no more than a scratch, simply because he’s the son of the owner of your favourite sushi restaurant. 

~At the same time, imagine what happens to the people whose food you dislike. Without a blink, he’d watch you eat something, and instead of the usual bliss he sees on your face, you frown and begin to slow down before hesitantly putting down the eating utensils. He’d ask you if anything’s wrong and after you reply that this dish is not really to your liking, he’d just smile and offer that you eat somewhere else. Then, the next day, you heard in the news that the very same restaurant burned to ashes during the night. The cause of the fire was unknown. 

~Another time, he accidentally saw you out in the town with a friend. He just happened to be nearby and considered saying hello when he heard your friend complaining about you eating way too much. You didn’t seem to take it seriously, but a dark glint in his eyes appeared at that time.

~”I never had a problem with how much they eat…”

~Hopefully, you weren’t very close with that friend (._.)

~Lowkey the devil on your shoulder. He only means good, but he never really tells you no. If you’re thinking about whether to get something to eat, you don’t even have to look at him to know his advice. And if you can’t decide between two things, he’ll just get you both no big deal. Even if he’s aware that it might not be the best for you, it’s not like an additional portion of ice cream will harm you, right?

~He’ll even go as far as to rob a grocery store with his gang to get you a good supply of snacks. You might want to establish some boundaries with him. Just saying. 

~Overall, wants the best, but tends to take things to the extremes.

Mitsuya

~Say no more.

~Actually, he’d cook for you almost each time you come to visit him even before he learns about your fondness for good food. And when he does? You got yourself a personal chef and no amount of insisting and resisting will get you out of this. 

~Legit gets offended if you refuse to let him make you food and suggest eating in the town instead.  

“Haaa? You’d rather pay for some stranger’s stuff rather than eat what your boyfriend prepared for you with love?”

~And it doesn’t matter that you only have the best intentions in mind and you don’t want to overwork him. He’s having none of that. If you really insist that you want to eat at some restaurant or worse- a fast food restaurant (!) he has no power to stop you. He’ll go with you, but he’ll be silent most of the time and will be glaring at you as you eat.

“I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

~But the moment you finally break, and promise to always choose his food over others, he’s momentarily back to himself, apologising and cuddling the hell out of you. Overbearing, but he does it out of care.

~That’s where it ends though. He invites you to eat dinner with him every few days and sometimes makes you snacks, but the rest is up to you. He doesn’t really stick his nose into your eating habits. And he doesn’t forbid you from eating in restaurants either. He’ll straight out encourage you to try out new places, but that’s only as long as he’s not able to cook for you himself, probably due to lack of time.

~If he sees some occasional food trucks or other kinds of time-limited food stalls, he’s absolutely getting you stuff from there. He’ll probably get a little bit of everything so that the two of you can go back there and eat whatever you liked the most.

~And if he sees someone bothering you for your eating habits, he won’t hesitate to pull them aside and scold them or even start a fight if necessary. 

~Will ask his friends and fellow gang members if they’ve been to any good restaurants/bars/cafes/food stalls or anything recently so that he can take you there later.

~Also, will try out even more new recipes and even has a little notebook where he writes down your favourite ones. Then, on some grand dates like anniversaries, your birthday or valentines, he’ll prepare little feasts entirely made out of your favourites.

~HOLD HIM FROM BEHIND AS HE COOKS. The first time you did it he froze and started blushing like crazy. He’d pin you to the wall and make out with you if he didn’t have milk on the stove. 

~From there on, he usually demands that you do it each time you ask if he needs any help or feel guilty with how much effort he puts in for you. This is it, this is the payment. Bonus points if you nuzzle your face into his shoulder. It’s his favourite thing to make him relax.

~Compliment his cooking and he’ll be genuinely thrown off. It’s something which always manages to make his mind all hazy and the butterflies in his stomach spring to life. Don’t let him brush it off! Keep going to witness the great mitsuya takashi embarrassed and shy.

~All in all, LET HIM COOK

Mikey

I came up w/ this one while taking a shit

~I can literally see a whole love story forming there.

~Imagine you decided on a study break, went to some shop nearby and bought some snacks. Let’s say, a croissant or two. A full ass croissant with chocolate inside and stuff. And you go to the park to enjoy it. It’s late afternoon, you find a bench hidden in the shadow of some old maple and bon appetit!

~You were halfway in, when you noticed that someone sat at the opposite side of the bench. You glanced that way and saw a blonde who looked to be about your age. He was also eating, but it was dorayaki. Without thinking much about it, your attention shifted back to your treat. After you were done, you quietly left.

~Then, a whole week later, it was also around that time that you decided to have some air, went to the same store and this time, bought a box of cookies. Once again, you ventured into the park and soon noticed that the bench you occupied last time was once again empty. So you sat there and enjoyed your break. 

~And again, the very same blonde appeared and sat nearby but with a different snack. 

You were suddenly pulled out of your blissful state by the stranger’s voice. 

“Can I have one cookie?” You turned to look at him. “I’ll give you pocky in exchange,” he noticed the slight surprise on your face and sent you a reassuring smile. “Is it too sudden? Sorry, but they just smell so good. Seriously, what flavour is this?”

“I think it’s because of the orange filling,“ you extended the box towards him as he moved closer to you. He took one cookie and offered you his pocky. 

“Thank you! Now try this, it’s green tea flavoured.”

“Nice, thanks.”

~No more words were spoken and as you finished, you simply said your goodbye and left. But the next time you went there, he was on the bench already. When he noticed you, he waved you in greeting and another exchange took place, this time, you also had a little small talk. Then, the same situation kept repeating until the two of you sat right next to each other and chatted casually. 

~Every few days, you headed to the bench, hoping to see him there. But after some time, it didn’t simply end on the bench hangouts. He’d ask you to go with him to that cafe you spoke so fondly about. Or the ramen restaurant he recommended. 

~As you began to spend more time together, you exchanged numbers, began to text each other and even developed feelings. None of you could point out the exact time when you fell in love. It just felt so right when you were together, you soon began to officially date. 

~Which brings us to this point. Seriously, you’re like twin souls. It is now a common occurrence for the two of you to exchange food or even steal each other’s. Literally imagine you and a few of his friends hanging out at his place and he looks through his drawers frowning for a while and finally asks “who took my limited edition strawberry taiyaki?” with a death voice. No one dares to breathe, but there you are, head peeking from the bathroom. “Oh, I ate it”.

~Everyone gets ready to hold Mikey down to at least give you a few minutes to run, but he just gets back to his normal mode and smiles. “Did you like it? I’ll buy more for you next time then.” And they’re absolutely bewildered. No, I will never get tired of this trope

~Food dates all of the time. Cafe, restaurant, bar, grocery store, name it and you’ll be going there. Especially if you’re too shy to go on your own. There is no such thing as ‘too much food’ in his dictionary. Eat to your heart’s content and if anyone dares to comment, we all know what happens. 

~Totally the type to bring you some sweets and ask for cuddles, kisses and letting him sleep on your lap in exchange. But hey! You can do the same. Actually, you don’t even have to get him anything. He’s physically unable to say no to you even if he sometimes gets a little bit pouty, a few minutes later he doesn’t even remember why he was mad in the first place.

~Once you have dated for some time, he’s the type to ask you how does your food taste while you’re eating, and as you’re moving your plate towards him, it’s 50/50 whether he demands you to feed him or steals a kiss and then licks his lips and says, “it’s good.”

~The spoon feeding though. He wants you to feed him just as much as he wants to feed you. It makes everyone in the 10 metre radius look away. Especially if you happen to be hanging out with his friends. The moment you start, various groans and sighs can be heard all around you. But at the same time, they all have those little smirks on their lips. 

~Their leader is smitten. Good for him.

[shall-we-die]

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{Wild Card}

☰[Main list]•⊰ Obey me!

Random headcanon.

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• Mammon frequently has intense, steamy dreams about MC, in which he fantasizes about the two of them exploring each other's bodies in intimate ways.

• His fantasies are so intense that they leave him feeling heated and bothered even after his dreams are over.

• Mammon finds the experience intoxicating and exciting, and he can't help but imagine new and creative scenarios in which he and MC can explore each other's bodies and pleasure each other to greater heights.

• The thought of the two of them together in such intimate and sensual ways can drive Mammon wild with desire.

┣━━━━━━━━━━━━━┅┅┅┄┄

Mammon's heart raced as he watched you undress, his eyes feasting on every inch of your body.

He couldn't believe this was finally happening. When you turned around, your eyes met for a brief moment before you stepped into the bathroom stall.

As the door clicked shut behind you, Mammon's nervousness gave way to anticipation. He could feel his cock twitching in his pants as he slowly undid his belt and slid his pants down, freeing his erection.

At the touch of your lips on his chin, Mammon let out a soft gasp. His hands trembled slightly as he reached up to hold your waist gently.

As your lips met, Mammon groaned deeply, feeling his heartbeat race even faster. He wrapped his arms around  your waist, pulling you closer still as he buried his face in your neck, kissing and nipping at the tender flesh.

Mammon's hips rocked forward slightly, pushing his throbbing cock against your stomach. He whimpered softly, his body begging for more contact.

With a quick flick of his wrist, Mammon removed the last obstacle between himself and you. His cock jerked forward, hitting against your wetness with a loud smack. Unable to resist any longer, he groaned and thrust into you hard.

Mammon gasped as he felt your tight muscles grip his cock. It was everything he'd dreamed of and more. He pounded into you with growing intensity, lost in the moment, his hips bucking with each forceful thrust.

As he felt his release approaching, Mammon's grip on  you tightened. His breath caught in his throat, and he bit back a groan.

"MC...I'm... I'm going to..."

Your walls clenched around him as he emptied himself into you, his seed shooting up their belly in thick, hot spurts.

As his orgasm subsided, Mammon pulled out of you with a wet pop, his cock still hard and glistening with your combined juices. He looked down st you, panting softly.

"Round 2?"

||[🅆ild Card]||

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     ⇆ㅤㅤ◁🅅ㅤㅤ❚❚ㅤㅤ🅇▷ㅤㅤ↻

[alicelufenia]

Been doing lots of research on Drow and the influence of Lolth to get a better impression on their concept in DnD, and to try and nail down what I find so fascinating about them considering I find the idea of "biologically Evil or Good fantasy races" so dull usually. And this random comment on one lore video caught my eye.

I just thought this was really insightful: like given DnD's history of being written from a largely evangelical Christian perspective (ie Gygax) it's not surprising how this idea of being broken is conflated with things like Original Sin, leading to this bizarre notion of inherent evil. When instead it can mean acknowledging and working through trauma that was experienced through no fault of your own, and for which healing is still possible.

Anyway, very inspiring reading as I put together my next character: a drow trans girl who's a swordsinger of Eilistraee who just wants the cycles of violence to stop.

[Image ID] youtube comment by MythosTheSophist. Here's something to remember about Drow: Elves, like Humans, are born broken. An Elf was only complete at the dawn of time, when it was free and perfect with Corelon. Drow are still Elves, but Lolth took their pieces and twisted them. There was a time, before the Crown Wars when they were just lost, now they are banished to the deepest darkness of the world, having lost their connection to the light and to the weave. In a way, the surface Elves are not wrong comparing the Drow to Humans. A surface Elf will claim it was born perfect, but a Human or a Drow will admit on being broken and some will even try to put themselves back together. That's why Eilistraee is a Good Goddess, because she promises: I will put you back together. [/Image ID]

[wriitingwoes79]

Naughty Neighbors Pt 2

Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Y/N

Summary: Tensions rise a week after “the incident” and the both of you are doing your best to get on each others nerves. Tonight, you take it too far—and face the consequences.

Content Warning: masturbation, use of sex toys, mention of casual sex/bar hookups

WC: ~1.1k

AN: once again, heavy on the UNEDITED. I HAD to cut it short chickies it was tooo fucking long but part 3 WILL be posted on Monday!!

MDNI!!!

It had been a week since the incident with Miguel. A long and insufferable week. A week of trying to get on with your life, hooking up with random strangers to try and scratch the itch that he'd created--to no avail, mind you. No one you found in seedy bars and dazzling nightclubs after your shifts at work could manage to do an inkling of what he'd done to you in a matter of minutes (seconds, if you were being completely honest).

But that didn't stop you from making sure Miguel was home to hear every minute of it. Sure, your moans were...well, fake, and the men didn't last long and you kicked them out shortly after, but you gained a sick satisfaction from hearing his door slam shut angrily and the music in his apartment grow louder to combat the sounds you were making. In retaliation, Miguel would dump your mixed up mail on your welcome mat, and make even more noise than usual in the early mornings when you slept.

You were both intent on making each other absolutely miserable.

You may have taken it too far tonight.

This entire week, you always waited until Miguel left to try and finish yourself off with your new-and-improved rechargeable vibrator you ordered the day after the incident. However, you never seemed to make it over the edge and cum.

Today, of course, you used it after the latest disappointment you picked up from a random bar down the street had left. You'd just finished taking a shower and didn't even bother to get dressed into pajamas. You merely laid on your sheets, legs spread and towel unwrapped as you started working on the annoying urge that Miguel had built up.

Your thoughts began to wander as you held the head of the wand against your clit, soft pants leaving between your parted lips. Flashes of the hallway began to flicker beneath your closed eyes: the hard and cold walls pressing into your flushed skin, hot breaths fanning over your neck, rough callused hands that gripped you hard enough you'd spent the past few days examining the small bruises they left.

You thought about how good it felt to have him nearly rip your clothes to pieces, pushing his hard dick against your panties before he eventually pulled them down too, sliding it between your slick thighs to fuck between them. Now, your thighs were slick again, your pants now becoming breathy and audible moans as you got closer and closer to reaching your climax. You imagined Miguel's thick and generously sized dick pushing into you, filling you up more than any man from the bar, and even your ex, coming so so so close to the edge of the orgasm you'd been chasing for the entire week.

"Oh, fuck, Miguel. Don't stop," you whined, unable to stop the words leaving your lips as you dwelled in your fantasies.

You heard a door slam but the sound was too far away to even dwell on it. Especially not when you were so close to reaching what you'd been so rudely denied. You could barely contain yourself anymore, sweat slicked on your nude body as your body began to melt into sweet sweet bliss.

That is until rough hands banged loudly on your front door.

You started with a jolt, sitting up with your vibrator in hand, and wrapping the towel over you in the other. The banging started once more and your knees knocked closed just as a voice growled loud enough for you to hear from your bedroom.

"Y/N! Open up, I know you're in there!"

Ooooh, you were in for it now. Miguel was going to kill you.

You panicked, standing up completely and looking around the room. Your thoughts raced faster than your heart as it pounded heavily in your chest.

He wasn't supposed to be home!

Oh God, you should answer the door--wait, you should put some clothes on first!

Why is the vibrator still in your hand?

You turned off the vibrator and tossed it on your nightstand, already starting to rummage through your dresser for something to wear when you heard his voice again.

"I swear to God, if you don't open this fucking door right now, I'll kick it down." You could not lose your security deposit.

“Fuck!” You tugged the towel around you tighter, hoping to cover as much of you as you could, hoping the sheen of sweat glistening off your skin would make it seem you'd just gotten out of the shower.

"Alright! Alright, I'm coming," you yelled through the door, "Don't get your sweatpants in a fucking twist."

You unlocked the door and swung it open, your free hand clasping the towel closed.

Oh fuck. Oh fuck fuck fuck.

Miguel was seething when you opened the door. His bare chest, also shining with sweat, heaved as he huffed deeply. The muscles in his neck and shoulders strained as he crossed his arms, even more muscles rippling underneath his skin. His hair was slightly disheveled, like he too had been tossing and turning in bed. But he shouldn't have been. You were sure he'd left his apartment way before you even took a shower.

"What?" You asked, annoyed. It took everything in you to look him directly in the eyes. You hadn't dared to look farther than his chest upon first seeing him, but your peripheral was giving you a sneaking suspicion about a certain something pressing against the fabric of his blue boxers. You knew he'd given the same once over to you too, with how pink the tips of his ears had gotten.

"Don't give me that bullshit," he started, "You don't get to act annoyed with what you've been doing all week."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You smiled innocently.

"The fact that you haven't actually cum all week says otherwise. Your dates not up to snuff?" His scowl turned into a deep smirk and your cheeks heated up in response. How could he even know?

"Oh please," You shoved his chest away from the threshold, "Like you could even do the job. You barely lasted two minutes, I'm sure you had to rush back inside before you busted all over the walls."

In a flash, you were back in your apartment...with Miguel inside too. You winced as your back was pressed against the cold door, Miguel's hands on either side of your head.

"So you're going to keep denying it?" He asked, his voice softer now only in volume--the intensity was still enough to make your knees weak. You didn't look him in the eyes until he forced your chin up, gripping it between his thumb and forefinger. "Answer me, fiera." You scowled at his pet name for you.

"No."

"Have it your way then."

~to be continued~

[rosesradio]

Hello! I saw that you were taking requests. Would you mind writing a Peter Parker x Reader fic where he is just absolutely head over heels and the reader just doesn't know. The two are good friends so when the reader needs a date for a destination wedding she asks Peter. Cue the classic tropes. ✨💕

hii, here you go !! 🫶 i put in all the best tropes, including friends to lovers, fake dating, only one bed, he fell first she fell harder…it’s a lot, and it was so fun to write. thanks for the request & reblogs are appreciated <3

my inbox is open, please read my pinned!

word count: 4,105

warnings: light swearing, some sexually suggestive jokes

The Wedding Date

"Hm," you hummed, pacing from one side of your living room to the other. In balancing out your racing train of thought, you had picked up the giant stuffed teddy bear that rested on your couch. "Hm, hm, hm..."

"Hm," Peter echoed, narrowing his eyes as he watched you, an amused smile tugging at his lips. "Can I ask what's bothering you, or am I gonna be left in the dark while you keep humming for another five minutes?"

"Ugh, I'm sorry," you sighed, forcing yourself to stand still and hug the giant bear to your chest. It was then that you remembered how you got this bear, Teddy, in the first place: Peter won it for you at a carnival. He must have played the stupid, rigged ring toss half a dozen times before he finally scored the big prize. He was such a gentleman, too, holding on to it while you got cotton candy for the both of you.

He was the most selfless person you knew. When you saw behind the Spider-Man mask after two years of knowing Peter, you weren't at all surprised; anyone else with his abilities would have given in to darker fantasies, though he had none.

If Peter was always so willing to be helpful, he could probably do you this tiny favor, right?

"I was just thinking," you started. "I got this wedding invitation recently from my friend, Lindsey—"

"A wedding?" Peter asked with raised brows. "On—on purpose?"

Noticing his smile, you rolled your eyes and flipped him the bird, unable to help but smile yourself. "I know, we're at that age—we're gonna get a ton of wedding invitations, and each one is gonna prompt some sort of crisis where we feel both too old and too young for any major milestone."

"Wow," Peter whistled. "That's so wise—are you seeing a therapist?" Without waiting for an answer to his rhetorical question, he continued: "You know, you could avoid a lot of crises if you just didn't have friends." He gestured to himself.

You looked at him incredulously. "You have me—and Ned. And MJ."

Peter hesitated. His brows furrowed, and he avoided your eyes. "Sure, but...I mean...you're not even close to getting married. You don't even have a boyfriend."

"Gee, thanks."

"Sorry," Peter cringed. "I didn't mean—"

"That's okay," you said. "You kinda have a point. That's actually what I've been contemplating. My plus one."

Peter's brows rose. "You need a wedding date."

You nodded. "I don't have to have one—and I'd ordinarily just say screw it and tell MJ to put on her best suit, but..." you shrugged, putting Teddy back down on the couch. "Lindsey is..." you sighed. "She means well, but she can be a bit...uppity about my love life? She always points out when I don't have a boyfriend, and it obviously makes me feel...well, like crap."

"Again, sorry," Peter said, grabbing Teddy and cuddling into him. It was honestly a cute picture—not that you would admit that to your best friend. "But you don't have to find a date to the wedding unless you really want one, you know? You shouldn't do anything just because of what other people are gonna think."

You smiled slightly. "Peter, you're starting to sound like an after-school special again." You paused. "But you have a point...I don't want the stress of finding some random guy for the wedding, and I can't bring just a friend..." you lit up. "So, I could make my own boyfriend! Peter, you're a boy, right?"

Peter laughed softly. "Last time I checked, yeah."

"Could you..." you started. "I mean, I don't want to take advantage. You're too kind for your own good sometimes. But, if you wanted to go to a beautiful destination wedding on a beach at Prince Edward Island..." you rocked on your feet from heel to toe. "You could maybe play the role of my fake boyfriend?"

Peter blinked, the smile not leaving his face, though his eyes appeared distant. "I don't know, y/n. That seems—"

"You're right," you shook your head. "It's not right of me to ask that—you need to be here because Spider-Man needs to be here. Forget I said anything. I'll figure something out. Maybe I'll download Tinder again..." although you tried not to, you made a face at the thought of plunging back into the cesspool.

Peter gave you a strange look, then, as if there were some sort of misunderstanding. You didn't like that—understanding social cues were a hit or miss, but communication with Peter was usually crystal clear.

"Wait," Peter shook his head with a sigh. "It's a beach wedding, right? At some point, they're probably gonna have popcorn shrimp..."

You smiled slightly. "Are you seriously thinking of going on a four hour plane ride there and back, pretending to be my boyfriend, and giving up your entire weekend just for...popcorn shrimp?"

"Yeah, of course," Peter nodded. "I've gone on trips and taken time away from being Spider-Man before. If anything really goes wrong, I can find my way back and try to help. Besides, I don't want this Lindsey girl to make you feel bad. I might not be the best looking stand-in boyfriend, but at least I'm here with fast and free shipping." He did some half-hearted jazz hands, though his smile was genuine.

"You're the best, Peter!" You sat down beside him, pulling him (and Teddy) into a hug. "And don't you dare talk bad about yourself. We're gonna go to that wedding with two missions—one, we're gonna make everyone jealous with what a cute fake couple we are. Two, we're gonna get you as much popcorn shrimp as you want."

"Sounds like a plan," Peter agreed, leaning his head against yours.

You could only hope that he really wanted to do this. You remembered all of those faux-sweet comments Lindsey would make about how she worried about you being alone. With Peter's help, you'd make even those newlyweds jealous, all the while making sure you and Peter had the times of your life on the trip.

———

The first bump in the road hit you when you arrived at the hotel room.

The flight there was nice; you and Peter watched movies and played games. In the last hour, you had drifted off to sleep leaning against Peter's shoulder. That was a little embarrassing to wake up to, but it was nothing that hadn't happened before.

This had never happened before.

"One bed," Peter commented blankly, though the surprise across his features was clear.

"You've gotta be kidding me," you huffed, dropping your bags down onto the massive bed. The place appeared pretty romantic, with a plush red duvet and a light dimmer. There was even a bucket of ice with a bottle of champagne, and—

"Chocolate dipped strawberries," you lit up, going over to the display and reading the adjoining card.

"Are we in the wrong room?" Peter asked. "'Cause I can go back down and—"

You shook your head, holding up the card with a smile. "For y/n and Peter, Compliments of Lindsey and Matt. You know, this doesn't surprise me at all. Lindsey's always had money, and she likes to keep up her appearances."

Peter narrowed his eyes, an amused smile tugging at his lips as he watched you eat one of the strawberries. "I'm still not sure if we're supposed to like Lindsey."

You shrugged. "She's got her flaws, but I like her. Almost as much as I like these strawberries. Almost." You offered him a strawberry, expecting him to take it. What you did not expect was for him to lean forward and take the strawberry with his mouth. Your face flushed, though you weren't sure why. You and Peter had done that with fries before, why were strawberries different? It was probably just the romantic vibe of the room, with the dimmed lights and the—

"So, the bed," you tried to distract yourself from that odd train of thought. "I can try to get a different room, but Lindsey might get wind of it and start asking questions...it's fine." You shook your head, offering Peter a smile. "I can just sleep on the floor."

Peter laughed. "You'd sleep on the floor? No way. This isn't like crashing at Ned's studio after a night out. This is a nice vacation. I'll take the floor."

"I don't want you on the floor," you protested.

"I don't think anyone wants either of us on the floor, that's why we're here fake-dating each other." Peter pointed out. He said the joke quickly, as if not thinking about it, and his cheeks grew pink.

You snickered. You knew Peter hated when he let the dirty jokes in his mind get ahead of him, but it was something that endeared you to him. He wasn't always Spider-Man the superhero, or Peter Parker, dressed like a Mormon to meet your parents for brunch. Sometimes he was almost...normal.

You knew more than anything that nothing could be normal for Peter.

You rolled your eyes and finally settled. "If it's not pushing any boundaries, maybe we could just...share the bed? If you promise not to sleep naked, I mean."

You don't know what prompted you to say that...or to picture it, though you quickly tried to dismiss it.

"Okay," Peter's voice was surprisingly soft at the suggestion. "I mean, just a couple hours ago you were drooling on my shoulder on the plane, so—"

"I said I was sorry!" You interjected, your own cheeks heating.

Peter grinned. "You know, I think I brought my nightgown in case this exact thing—" the rest of his smartass reply was cut off as you pushed a pillow into his face, only able to hear a muffled laugh.

———

You were too focused on your own breathing. It was unnatural.

You rolled over to see the clock on Peter's side. 12:54 AM. You huffed, trying to nuzzle into your pillow. You'd had a couple glasses of champagne with Peter, which typically would have put you to sleep as soon as your head hit the pillow, but...

But...

"Can't sleep?"

Peter's voice was soft and low with sleep, though not so much so that you worried you had woken him. You couldn't see him in the dark, though you could picture him—tussled brown hair, his baggy I Survived NYC shirt wrinkled against the sheets.

You always took notice of him in the mornings—when you spent the night at his place or vice versa, and he'd make you both waffles. You could appreciate a gesture from a friend, but in those strange moments, he seemed almost like a boyfriend.

"No," you replied. "Not used to the space, I guess."

Peter nodded—you could hear it against the sheets in the darkness. "I get that—'m living the dream, though. Couldn't tell you the last time I had a girl in my bed."

"Gross," you jabbed him in the ribs, and you smiled at the sound of his snicker. "In your dreams, Parker."

"Yeah, yeah," Peter murmured. "I do kinda miss it, though. I don't have a lot of...experience, but that's not what I'm thinking about..."

In that moment, you were sure Peter was talking some half-asleep nonsense. You were tempted to ask him some silly questions, like what his dream blunt rotation would be, or what his social security number was.

Instead, you pressed on, curious. "What are you thinking about, then?"

"Mm," Peter hummed, hesitant even in this careless state. "Just...being in bed with someone, holding them close, feeling 'em breathe. Knowing that you're keeping them safe. Knowing they want you there, that you're not a screwup..."

Something in Peter's tone made your eyes sting. "You're nowhere near a screwup. You're a hero."

"I know..." he let out a soft breath, though something in it sounded heavy.

"I was friends with you before I knew about that, anyway," you pointed out. "Because you're more than a hero. You're Peter. That matters so much more than anything else you do. Anybody would be lucky to be in bed with you...even if you have the dirty mind of a teen about it." You grinned.

Peter let out another breath, this one of laughter. A comfortable silence spanned between the pair of you.

It was silent for so long, you thought Peter had fallen asleep.

"Do you," he started, and you listened curiously. "Would you be okay with maybe cuddling with me? We've done it on the couch with movies, but I know this is different, so..."

"Yeah," you replied in agreement. "I mean, um—yeah, of course, that's fine..."

Slowly, a little awkwardly in the dark, Peter reached out, his fingertips delicate against your skin as he sought you out. He found your forearm first, reaching up and tracing along the palm of your hand.

"Sorry," his voice seemed much more awake now, much more aware. "If you could maybe just..."

You nodded even though he couldn't see you in the dark. You rolled onto your other side, facing away from him as you pushed back against him. You felt the warmth of his chest against your back, the feeling all-too-overwhelming. The feeling increased tenfold when, all implications disregarded, Peter wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close against him. You could feel the warmth of his breath against the crook of your neck.

You couldn't remember the last time you had been in bed with someone like this.

You let out a soft, shaky breath of your own, trying to calm the sudden bout of nervous butterflies in your stomach that now fluttered with no bounds. Strangely enough, that feeling only lasted for a moment. The last thing you remember was the feeling of Peter's thigh moving against yours, wrapping you closer in the embrace. It was then that comfort overwhelmed you, and you found yourself drifting off to sleep easier than ever before.

———

The morning light was bright despite the blinds, waking you up as you hummed in protest.

You and Peter were still cuddled close together, though the embrace had lost all structure. His leg was slung over your waist, his hand somehow cupping the side of your face. He was nuzzled between your shoulder blades, letting out warm breaths against your skin that woke you up far more than the brightness.

"Peter," your voice was low in your drowsiness. You rolled away before stretching. "You were a second away from putting me in a headlock..."

"Mm," Peter hummed. "Sorry..." he yawned, blinking as he processed what was going on. Something then seemed to click within him, and he stiffened like a deer in headlights. "Shit, sorry!" He repeated, his cheeks flushing. "Man, I didn't mean to do that..."

"It's okay," you insisted. "Why are you all jumpy? What, were you worried about your super-strength or something?"

"Oh, uh," Peter avoided your eyes. "Yeah, that's exactly it—I mean, I could crush a watermelon between my thighs without even worrying—without even thinking about it, so..." he lifted his arm up to flex, which you glanced at with raised brows. He was no Captain America, but he was built well enough.

"Okay," you said slowly. Realization then dawned on you, and you sighed, your cheeks heating. “Is it that we, like, cuddled last night? Because that didn't have to mean anything—we both just like cuddling."

"Sure," Peter nodded. "I mean, I cuddled with Ned all the time in high school, but..."

"But?" You inquired.

"No but!" Peter shook his head. "No but at all, an absolute flat-ass situation..." he paused to catch his breath before nodding, his mouth pressed in a thin line. "I'm gonna go get ready."

He then went and locked himself in the bathroom. You looked at the door, then over to the closet where his clothes were, wondering what the heck had gotten into Peter.

———

Luckily, Peter seemed calmed down by the reception. The ceremony must have bored him; he kept glancing at you the entire time, as well as shaking his leg until you put a hand on his knee to still him.

Despite the social atmosphere, Peter seemed to open up more. After the first few times of introducing himself as "y/n's boyfriend", the obvious looks in your direction slowed to a stop. That did not stop his awkwardness, though. As endeared as you were to him, you were glad he never had to do any acting to save the world.

"Excuse me," a small voice piped up. It wasn't the umpteenth elderly couple doing their rounds of greetings, but instead a little girl of about six years old. She wore a pastel pink dress and small matching heels.

"Oh, hi," you smiled at the little girl. "You were the flower girl—Katie, right?"

Katie nodded. "I wanted a dance." She looked over at Peter, then back at you. "Mind if I take him for a spin?"

You nearly snorted. "Oh, sure—what do you think, Peter?"

Peter seemed to be trying to tone down his amused smile. "I'd be honored, Katie." He took her hand and allowed her to lead him to the floor.

As you ate—the shrimp here being unfortunately coconut, not popcorn—you watched them dance. She was standing on top of his shoes, and he seemed to be masking the pain from the jabbing of her tiny heels. As he smiled and chatted with her, you couldn't help but smile as well. Peter was good with kids—you wondered if that came from being Spider-Man, or just being Peter.

When the song was over, Katie curtsied and Peter bowed in turn, as if they were at a ball. Peter returned to the table beaming, and for some reason, it made your heart catch in your chest. You felt as if you wanted to say something, though you weren't sure what, or if you were allowed to.

Just as you opened your mouth to say something, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You turned around to see Lindsey, who was practically glowing with excitement in her cream-colored reception gown.

"Hey!" You gave her a hug. "Wow, you look gorgeous. Congratulations!"

"Thank you," Lindsey swept a black, curly strand of hair from her face. "And you do too! Is this," she gestured to Peter. "Is this your plus one? I saw him dancing with Katie, it was adorable!"

Peter nodded. "I'm y/n's boyfriend," he stood to shake her hand, then her new husband's. "Peter."

"It's so nice to meet you, Peter," Lindsey replied. "I didn't think y/n was seeing anyone, but she never lets me get too nosy. I was worried about her for a little bit, though!" She laughed.

Peter gave you a look, as if some of your previous description of her was clicking into place.

"We've been together for a little while," Peter shrugged, fixing Lindsey with a curious look. "Nine months, right, babe?" He glanced back at you and smiled, his gaze warm. "It feels like it's been years, but also a few great days."

For a moment, you sat in stunned silence, unsure of how to respond. His acting was so real; he seemed utterly infatuated.

Lindsey gasped softly, placing a hand on her heart. "That's exactly how I feel with my husband. Well, how'd you two meet?"

"Um," Peter started with a slight smile. "We were at this bagel place on 76th, and I was ordering my usual—"

"An everything bagel," you added out of habit. "With plain cream cheese, smushed down really flat, like a weirdo."

"Exactly," Peter laughed. "And you said that, too, remember? I remember you scoffed, and when I asked, you said that only a weirdo would want a bagel that was...what was it? Looked like it was ran over?"

"I had a point," you replied. "And you asked me what I liked, since I was such an expert in all things bagel. So I got my—"

"Blueberry bagel," Peter recalled. "Strawberry cream cheese, plus you paid extra for assorted fruit on top, like an absolute princess."

You grinned. "But you paid for mine...and you walked me to the subway, like a gentleman, while I spent the entire time roasting you on your food preferences."

"And then I offered to take her to dinner," Peter looked up at Lindsey. "I said that I knew this great pizza place, and if she wasn't blown away, I'd cover her bill. Turns out she was blown away, as expected," he met your eyes with a smile, reaching over and grabbing your hand. "But I paid, anyway. It was worth it times a thousand to get to know her..."

You squeezed his hand, and in that moment, you felt as if something were squeezing your heart, too. The way he talked about it made it sound so romantic...but, of course, neither of you mentioned the fact that his friends were at the dinner. That you had asked for it to not be a date, because you had been stood up a few nights before and were not feeling the dating scene. It was a friend thing, and at that dinner your friend status was cemented.

You never thought you wanted anything else, but...

"Excuse me," Peter's voice brought you back to reality. He smiled thinly at both you and Lindsey before standing and starting for the exit.

Perhaps he just needed to use the restroom down the hall, but something about his exit seemed...swift. Offering a smile to Lindsey as well, you followed in Peter's steps.

When you finally found him, he had a hand over his eyes, his face flushed as he tried to steady his breathing.

You felt as if you'd walked in on something you shouldn't have—or perhaps you needed to.

"Peter?" You asked softly.

Peter nearly jumped, looking at you before making a pointed effort not to do so. "Hey! Hey...y/n...I'm alright. Just...taking a second to—"

"Cry?" You asked, the word slipping out before you could think about it, and you slapped a hand over your mouth.

Peter laughed. You rushed through surprise, relief, and concern so fast, you had whiplash.

"Yeah," Peter admitted with a sigh. "I'm...not alright. But I'm trying to be. Just...go enjoy the reception, don't let me ruin it."

You shook your head. "That story...it was how we met, but you made it sound romantic."

Peter nodded. "I thought that was what we were supposed to do."

You swallowed. "It sounded really convincing. You...you like me, don't you, Peter?"

Peter seemed laser-focused on the sleeve of his suit. "How could I not, y/n?" He settled. "You're beautiful, you're fun in the same weird way I am, and you have no idea when someone's into you—you're exactly my type. But...I mean, I was trying so hard not to be that guy. You know, the 'be my girlfriend or I'll never talk to you again' guy? I can't do that—not to you, and not to myself. I want you in my life in whatever way I can have you, even if it kills me, because you're really important to me. And if you don't want to talk to me again, I understand, I won't push—"

His words faltered into silence as you reached out and held his hand.

"I like you, too, Peter. I don't think I realized it until now, but..." You started to smile. "You're one of my favorite people in the world. You’re already a great friend, so I'd love to be your girlfriend."

Peter seemed incredulous, though a moment later, his uncertain smile grew until he was fully beaming. His smile was contagious, and you couldn't help but smile as well. You went in for a hug, and he in turn lifted you, spinning you around as if you were in a romcom.

"So," Peter started. "Do you wanna go back in there and turn up the charm now that we're a real couple?"

You pondered the idea for about a half a second before shaking your head. "Screw those guys." You said. "You wanna get out of here? I bet we could find a good ice cream place."

"Sounds good to me," Peter replied, offering you a fist to bump. "Let's go to the room and get changed into some comfier clothes."

As he started towards the stairs, you reached for his hand, your heart skipping a beat as he squeezed your hand gently. You didn't want to rush things, though you wondered...perhaps when you got up to the room, you could kiss him. Perhaps, if he were interested—and while that romantic room was on someone else's bill—you could do a little bit more.

[viperrot]

⇁slasher season | leon kennedy | intro

re4 remake ghostface!leon s. kennedy x fem!reader NSFW 18+

MINORS DNI: BEWARE OF THE CONTENT YOU CONSUME.

you've always been in love with horror media growing up, especially slasher films. your boyfriend suggests to indulge in your dark fantasies after learning about your liking towards the classic ghostface.

series content warnings: porn with little plot, cnc/dubcon, depictions of chase, stalking, knifeplay, size difference, and possibly more to be added

content contains: GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF MURDER (ghostface in the movie doing ghostface things), oral (f!receiving), reader has fem!anatomy and uses fem!pronouns, size difference (leon is supposedly taller and beefier than reader), use of petnames (bunny, bug), no p in v, leon eats pussy like a champ!, praise and degradation

not proofread i am eepy

3719 words

song rec: "porno witch" by devil's witches (PLEASE LISTEN I LOVE THIS SONG UHHUGGHHU)

the introduction to my new self-indulgent collection of ghostface leon! no ghostface!leon here, but in the next one? ohohoho… be prepared, little doves.

enjoy below the cut~

Swaddled up in a soft blanket dyed to look like the Mystery Machine from Scooby-Doo, you patiently waited for your boyfriend to arrive home from work. You sat on the floor below your couch, surrounded by pillows you had taken from your bedroom in effort to get comfortable.

Tonight was movie night, and it was your week to pick the movie. With the summer season in full swing, you had finally decided it was “Slasher Season”—a time of the year you made up when you were in high school as an excuse to watch shitty horror films on your mom’s VHS player. Slasher Season, for you, was from July and all the way into Christmas—the typical settings of many slasher films. From summer camp scenarios, halloween killing sprees, and organs for Christmas presents, you thought it was a proper time period to call the Slasher Season.

As you scrolled through your phone, mindlessly looking through cringe social media, a ping! sound vibrates the small device. Your put your attention on the notification banner at the top of the screen, smiling softly when you see a message from your sweetheart.

Lee💕» Almost there. Make me some hot chocolate?

At the mentioning of the sweet treat, you checked the electric kettle that was resting on the kitchen counter and squinted at it.

« Too farrrr you do it urself!!

You respond, feeling lazy.

Lee💕» You’re goofy. See you soon, bug

Your heart raced knowing Leon was only a few blocks away at this point. He often walks place-to-place to make up for his lack of gym consistency as a result of college taking up most of his time, and his dorm isn’t very far from your apartment. As you waited for Leon, you got up from your comfortable spot on the floor to turn on the kettle before searching for the remote to the TV, finding it wedged between the couch cushions.

Sitting back down in your pillow moat, you quickly search for one of your favourite slashers on a random streaming service—Scream, 1996. The infamous Ghostface mask stared back at you as you clicked around for the “play” button, starting the movie and immediately pausing it to continue when your lover arrives.

The door to your quaint apartment clicks, the sound of a door knob rattling catching your attention. It pushes open to reveal Leon, sporting a black t-shirt and some blue jeans. He crouches down to slip off his beat-up Converse, tucking them against the wall before fully entering the house and closing the door behind him. He pushes his hair back as he looks at you with a boyish grin, a faint blush dusting the bridge of his nose as his pupils widen at the sight of you.

“Hey, bug,” Leon beams. He takes a look at the kitchen and notices the electric kettle boiling on the counter.

“Hi, Lee,” you chuckle softly. “I thought you changed at your dorm?” you motioned towards his jeans from your spot on the floor. His attention turns down to his attire.

“Figured I could shower and then just wear the sweats I keep here. Plus, I didn’t want to walk in pants like that,” Leon shrugs, walking towards the short hallway that led to your bedroom. You hum and go back to your phone while your blondie changes out of his tight jeans. The six-foot tall hunk walked into the living room and nudged you with his sock-clad foot, asking you to scoot forward. You did so, allowing him to squeeze behind you and set you into his lap.

"Was it busy today?" you peer up at him, your eyes unable to focus on his chin and his eyes at the same time. You felt Leon's right arm leave your waist to pick up the remote on the coffee table, pressing the "play" button to begin the movie. He tugs up the Scooby-Doo themed blanket to cover the both of you before answering your question.

"Like always. Luckily, no one pushed me into the pool today," Leon chuckled. He works as a swim instructor during the summer for little kids at the local pool, and the children would often play with him and push him into the body of water. The image of a dozen little ones running around him like vultures made you giggle.

"That's kinda lame," you joke. Leon squeezes your side gently, taking a nibble at the shell of your ear as a silent jab at your comment.

"Do you want hot chocolate, bug?" Leon asks lowly. You shake your head as a no, focusing your attention to the movie.

Drew Barrymore as Casey Becker picked up the white landline phone, responding to the fake voice speaking to her with a cheeky grin on her face. You felt your thighs squeeze at the sound of Ghostface on the other end of the line, silently wishing you were Casey Becker. If Leon noticed, he made no effort to say anything. As the scene plays out, you feel your lover's chest hum softly.

"What is this...?" he questions quietly. Your eyebrows knit together at this.

"You don't know what we're watching...?!" you gape up at him, your head looking over your shoulder. He gives you a look of pure confusion.

"Not really, no. Am I supposed to know?" Leon laughs nervously, a brow quirked up.

"If you're dating me, yes! Yes, you're supposed to know!" You yelp out, distraught by your lover's confession. He flashes a stupid smile, seemingly unbothered by your behaviour, his lightly calloused fingers tickling beneath the baggy jumper you wore that totally wasn't his to tease at the skin of your waist.

"Then why don't you help me out and tell me what in the world we're watching, bunny?" Leon circles his thumb just above your v-line, rubbing softly as he nuzzles his chin onto your shoulder.

"It's only like... one of the best slasher films of all time," you mumble under your breath. "Scream by Wes Craven from 1996."

"Mmm... not ringing a bell, bunny," Leon begins to press kisses into the crook of your neck as his eyes focus on the screen in front of you two, confused as to why the platinum blonde chick is losing her mind while running around with the phone in her hands.

Casey Becker screams at the sight of her meathead boyfriend strapped to a chair in front of her family’s pool, guts hanging out of his stomach from a large slit that ran across it. Leon cringed slightly at the sight, not expecting to watch a horror movie tonight.

"What is this..." he squints, still confused.

"Just keep watching," you sigh, childishly upset that Leon didn't know what this movie was.

The scene continued, Casey Becker running around and out of her house with a knife from her burning kitchen. Eventually, she's found by the wicked killer of the movie. He chases her with his blade, digging it into her neck as she cries to her poor parents over the phone. The blood gurgled in her throat as she cried, crawling in the yard of her lavish and isolated home, leaving a trail of her blood in her wake.

As Ghostface brandished his modified hunting knife, you shivered with a sick excitement, unknowing of the sparkle in your eyes as the scene unfolded.

But Leon knew.

As you squirmed in his lap, he grew curious, his lips no longer kissing against your neck. He knew what the two of you were watching now—he had dressed up as that murderous fool for Halloween in his senior year of high school as a joke with some old friends. Leon hadn’t any idea who Ghostface was. He simply knew him because of his friend group that dressed up as other slasher antagonists.

He remembers the compliments he’s get when trick-or-treating with his friends—the girls that’d flirt with him and ask him for a game of cat and mouse with batted eyelashes. Leon feels warm at the memory of spending time with his old group and denying girls a playful chase, but he quickly brushes them away when he feels you grind into his lap a little harder than the other times.

“What’s got you so twitchy, bunny?” Leon whispers into your ear, thumbing at the waistband of your pajama shorts. You jolt at the sensation, a blush running up to your ears.

“Nothing?” You respond, hoping he wouldn't realize the true reason as to why you're so fidgety tonight. The sight of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher made you want to jump with joy, unconsciously biting your bottom lip as they teased their respective girlfriends. Leon hummed, mimicking the kisses Billy would give Sidney in the scene, his lips grazing the lines of your neck.

"I think you're lying to me, bug," Leon chuckles lowly, his lips curling up into a grin against your neck. "I have a serious question for you."

You perk up at this, your full attention in your lover's hands. You can no longer focus on the slasher film playing on the TV as Leon turns you in his lap to face him, his nose grazing against your own as he tilts his head down to look into your eyes.

"Do you get, uh...?" Leon hesitates, his lip twitching as his eyes dart around in search of what to say.

"Do serial killers turn you on?"

Blink.

Blink, blink.

"HAH- why would you think that, Lee?!" you laugh nervously, your heart drumming against your ribcage. The blonde man smirked at the flustered sight of you, knowing good and well you were lying through your teeth.

"Well, you keep squeezing your thighs together, first of all," he notes. "And then you keep squirming around like a caterpillar getting ready to cocoon," his hands tickle your waist, trailing up and up, closer to your chest.

"That doesn't mean anything, Lee. I-I'm just feeling the affects of a thrilling film!" you try to dodge his speculations, eyes averting from his own. Leon presses a soft kiss on the corner of your lips before you felt his right hand trail away from your torso, cupping the heat between your legs.

"If it doesn't mean anything," he leans in, whispering into you ear.

"Why are you soaking through your shorts?"

You shiver when you feel Leon's breath tickle your ear, unknowingly grinding your clothed slit onto the palm of his hand. He chuckles lowly, pulling away from your heat. Your blush worsens, and you whine softly when the contact is lost.

"Be honest with me, bunny. Do you like the idea of being chased? Maybe even... having a little fun with a knife?" Leon coos, bringing his hand back to your waist. You shyly nod, shoving your face into his neck to avoid his soft gaze. His laugh rumbles low in his chest as he holds you close, caressing your skin gently.

“Don’t be embarrassed—It’s kind of cute, really,” Leon assures you. “But I have another question.”

You press your chest against his, and you feel him hug you a little tighter. You hum softly, urging your lover to continue.

“Do you want to try something more… slasher-like?” He asks curiously, and you grow a little confused.

“What do you mean, Lee? Like… do you mean you want to watch more movies, or in be-“

“In bed. Or maybe even out of bed,” Leon smirks. You pull away from the crook of his neck, interested in the proposition.

“Out of bed? How would that work?” You slightly pucker your lips with confusion. Leon traces your bottom lip with his thumb, tugging at it gently as his blue eyes traced the features of your face.

“However you want, bunny. I can send you creepy messages on a cheap burner phone, make you wonder if I’m stalking you every moment of the day, and maybe even, hmm… Get a Ghostface costume…?” Your eyes widen with surprise at his suggestions, and by the look in his eyes, he’s completely serious. You stifle a nervous laugh, unsure of how to even respond.

“Y-y’know, I thought you were a ‘missionary only’ kinda guy,” you half-joked.

It was mostly true, really. The times you’ve had sex with Leon, he was mostly very sweet—he’s just a big tease. He always wanted to look you in the eyes, whisper sweet praises to you as he rolls his hips into yours. You never bothered to ask him for rougher activities, not wanting to come off as weird to your boyfriend of almost a year, so his suggestion of chasing and stalking you was a shocker.

“M’only a ‘missionary only’ guy because I didn’t think you’d be such a lewd and depraved girl,” Leon confesses, smirking down at you. “But now… I know what you really like,” his hand reaches down to the curve of your ass, pinching the plush flesh teasingly between his fingers.

“I-I’m not lewd,” you stammer out, your arousal dripping from your tongue. Leon takes in the sight of you—flushed and small in his lap, your body betraying your words as you began to grind onto the apparent bulge in his sweatpants.

“Stage one is denial, bug~” gently, he pushes you down to the floor, the movie and Mystery Machine blanket that covered you two long forgotten. You make no protest when he begins to tug off your pajama shorts, revealing the cotton panties beneath. Leon’s breath grazes over the white fabric, tickling your most sensitive areas as he smiles up at you from his spot between your thighs.

“So, what do you say, bunny? Do you want to play a game with me?” Leon chuckles darkly, his teeth pulling at gusset of your panties to pull them off. When they’re halfway down your thighs, he ducks to wedge himself in front of it before lowering himself to the slick between your legs, his plump lips immediately getting to work.

His tongue runs up from the bottom of your pussy and up to your sensitive little clit, teasing at the bundle of nerves with a few flicks of his tongue. Leon skims his giant hands over your thighs before squeezing them closer to his head, burying himself into your wet cunt like a man starved.

You moan out his name as you thread your fingers through his soft blonde hair, throwing your head back into the carpet as you feel his warm tongue bully itself into your wet hole.

“Tastes so good, bunny,” Leon groans, the vibrations of his voice against your cunt making your stomach churn. “All f’me, too—god,” he smiles before fucking his tongue back inside, relishing in the way your thighs hugged his head tight.

“L-Leon—“

“That’s right, bunny… Keep moaning like the depraved little slut you are,” your lover chuckled, the devilish tone dripping from his tongue. Leon began to focus on your clit as one of his hands left your thighs, teasing the entrance of your pussy with soft pokes and prods.

“Who would’ve known such a sweet girl like you could be so dirty~” Leon mumbles as he sucks at your sensitive little nub. “You like it when I call you slut, huh? You’re squeezing my head like I’m trying to kill you or somethin’, bunny.”

“Why don’t you beg for my fingers, hm? Let’s hear it, bunny~” the blue-eyed boy pulls himself away from your twitchy little hole, smirking at the sight of how fucked-out you looked despite him barely doing anything. His head presses against your thigh as he forces them apart, placing soft nibbles onto the plump flesh as he awaits your response.

“P-please, Lee…” you pant out, hands reaching out for him desperately as your hips bucked up. Leon remains in his current position, worrying bruises into your inner thigh as if nothing was happening.

“L-Leon, please… need you—“ your voice is shaky as you continue to beg, and that seems to do the trick as you watch your lover return to his spot buried between your legs.

“Perfect…” He smiles, his lips a breath away from your aching cunt. “My perfect little bunny, hm~? Let’s give you want you want now, slut~”

Without warning, Leon thrusts his thick fingers into your slick little hole, scissoring your entrance open as he sucks harshly on your clit. You cry as you feel his teeth graze against the little bud, eyes rolling back as his fingers pump a hair upwards to graze against that special little spot inside of you.

“L-Lee—!” You moan, breath hitching in your throat as you tugged at his hair. Leon makes no plans to stop, continuing his attack onto the most sensitive spots of your body as you squirm and squeeze beneath him. Every time your thighs clenched around him, he couldn’t help but chuckle with delight, relishing in every sensation you gave him.

“Feels so good, isn’t that right, bunny?” Leon coos, smiling coyly at the sight of your arched back and drool-covered lips. “Y’look so pretty like this, bug… Love eating you out.”

Leon digs his fingers deeper inside of you as he goes back to stimulating your clit, his tongue dragging letters onto your slick pussy with expertise. Your hips rock up onto his mouth, your jumper riding up your stomach as you squirmed. Your lover could feel your cunt squeeze with each thrust of his calloused digits.

“Y’gunna cum for me, bunny?” he hums. “Go on. Cum for me, slut. This might be the last time I let you feel this good,” Leon growls.

At his order, you release, your juices making a mess of your lover’s face as your hips twitch forward. Leon sighs with delight, lapping up every drop you give him as if he was never going to have another meal for the rest of his life. Groaning at the taste of you, he pays no attention to the way you lay boneless beneath him.

“Such a good girl for me, bunny~” he moans onto your pussy, obsessed with the flavour of you as his tongue drags itself in and out of your slick hole. Your shivered, trying to push him away from your overstimulated intimates as your eyes rolled back. He doesn’t budge, continuing to fuck you with his greedy tongue.

“Tastes so fuckin’ good… all f’me… all mine~” Leon mumbles between every lick, pussydrunk and loopy. He finally pulls away, your slick making a mess of his jaw and lips. His blue eyes stare down at you with a slight worry.

“You okay, bug?” He whispers, bringing a hand up to caress your cheek. You nod softly, lost for words as a result of your recent orgasm. Leon chuckles at your current state.

“So cute… Let’s get you a bath, n’then we can keep watching Scream in the bedroom, okay?” Leon helps you up to your feet before carrying you bridal-style immediately after. You make no argument, allowing the man to walk you over to the bathroom down the hall.

Apparently, watching Scream and making you scream are two different things, but Leon didn’t really care.

uh. my first public smut i’ve ever written? hope u enjoyed the intro i guess bc this is one of the few times i’m gunna make leon be nice to u in this little collection :,]

comment if you want to be in the taglist, perhaps?

[saphssapphire]

Sunday Special/Day 26: Groups and Collabs!

Hermitcraft S9 was actually the first season of Hermitcraft that I watched, and I *still* think about soup group to this day. Two fantasy-race people and an alien whose base is like the size of both of theirs combined. Horrible random suspicious stew that everyone keeps drinking anyways. “Resisted” RenTheKing (only kinda), and made an absolutely amazing group megabase that flows together super well!

I’ve posted art with these designs on this blog before, but all of them have been adjusted at least slightly. Gem has some detailing redone on the shoes, leaf skirt, and vest, Impulse is a bit bigger and a bit chubbier, his details are more stylized and less literal to the skin, and he’s a bit less bald, and then I basically overhauled Pearl the way a Minecraft biome update can be considered an “overhaul”; mushroom cap hard hat, alien skin and eyes, broom tail (for her job as cleaning lady), little moon hair tie, and hair shaped like a question mark because I thought it looked fun that way!

Also this took me over two and a half hours, I massively underestimated how much work was needed for this. This was like three days of the challenge in one. I did *not* learn my lesson from the HC Recap special, oooooooof XD

[an3mos-mp]

“Just friends”

Summary: After meeting with Scaramouche and Aether for a group project, Scaramouche decides to be more bold about his advances

Starring: Scaramouche, Aether (This is a Scara x reader, Aether is just a side character)

Genre: Romance, soft smut (does that exist? If not it does now)

Warnings: Suggestive themes, cussing, dirty thoughts

Author’s note: This is literally the second thing i consider “smut” that i have EVER written to bare with me. I couldn’t think of a better title-

Word count: 1534 words

~~~

Your relationship with Scaramouche was… complicated. You always found yourself walking on eggshells around him. You feared the possibility of him finding out about the feelings you harboured because well- have you met the guy? As one of his closest friends, you had first row tickets to watching him break every heart thrown his way and trample on the feelings of every person who dared to open their hearts to him. While it was hilarious, it was also terrifying. So terrifying that it was second nature to hide your feelings while you were with him. Whether you were sitting together in class and he’d make an effort to speak with you alone. Or whenever he would drag you off to some place (often times he had no destination in mind). Or when his eyes would linger a little longer than you’d consider socially acceptable during your group meets with Aether.

Instances like those made it very easy to fall for him. Despite his cold disposition, it was no secret that he cared about you. Some of your friends argued he cared for you a bit too much but at times you couldn’t disagree with them. Times like right now when Scaramouche was too occupied with tracing random shapes into the palm of your hand to listen to Aether explain about his side of the group project you were working on. You kept your eyes on your laptop screen to distract yourself from your racing heart.

“Maybe we should focus on white collar crime?” Aether questioned as he scanned his notes. When he got no response, he rolled his eyes at the both of you before continuing with his little rant on why you should narrow down your research topic. From beside you, Scaramouche had moved closer to you, his head now resting on your shoulder as he traced the letters of his name into your palm.

“Ugh guys, are you even listening?”

Scaramouche spoke without hesitation. “No.”

And that was the beginning of another one of their petty arguments.

You sighed before you zoned out. Scaramouche and Aether quarrelling in the background. You often zoned out and you weren’t very proud of the direction your thoughts about Scaramouche had been going. The hopeless romantic in you always added the most effort to your scenarios to make them romantic. For example, love confessions under a starlit sky. Or swapping anonymous love letters as you both entertained the possibility of a romantic endeavour together. This time around, however, it was Scaramouche interrupting one of your study sessions with a gentle caress to your cheek. His gaze was soft as he leaned in toward you, his other hand lingered near your thigh. Then he would whisper something openly perverted in your ear.

The sound of snapping fingers shattered your fantasy and brought you back to reality.

“I asked you a question.” Scaramouche said, his unwavering gaze upon you.

Your embarrassment was hard to hide because you had a fantasy like that in his presence. “Sorry, I had something on my mind.”

He raised an eyebrow. “This is the fourth time today. What’s so interesting that it’s occupied your mind so religiously?” He teased in a way that made you almost believe he knew exactly what was on your mind. You averted your eyes.

A big mistake. Scaramouch smiled. You covered your mistake by changing the direction of the conversation to Aether. “Let’s wrap this up so we can all go home.”

Scaramouche hummed in amusement. “Now you’re changing the subject. Are you trying to hide something?” He challenged as he tilted his head to the side. As an expert at hiding your feelings from your friend, you absolutely sucked right now because he was putting you on the spot.

“So you are hiding something.” His smile turned cunning. “What is it?”

Aether interrupted your conversation. “Can we deal with our project first?” He said, unamused. You both heeded his words before actually working on the project. Two hours down the line, Aether left Scaramouche’s apartment leaving you two alone.

Scaramouche was insatiable but of course you didn’t know this. If you were to keep your secrets, he would keep his too. It was hard for him to ignore you daydreaming more often as of late. Was he boring? That thought itself made him reel with jealousy. What could be more important than him that you use your time together to think about it? Was it a person? He was surprised you couldn’t feel his eyes on you every time you studied in his room together. It annoyed him how his presence didn’t seem to affect you much and while he liked the idea of you being very comfortable around him, it drove him mad that he was the only one who would ever feel the tension between the both of you.

You broke him out of his inner turmoil with a basic question about the project. How could you not know the answer to this, he wondered. But you did know the answer to it. You didn’t know how much longer you could handle being under his intimidating gaze. A moment passed before he sighed and began his explanation while showing you his notes.

“The macro theories explain everyone’s behaviour while micro theories focus on people as individuals rather than as ‘one’.” He drawled on, his voice monotone because of how mundane this was to him. You weren’t even paying attention to his words. Instead you watched his fingers as he trailed them over quotations from his notebook. You admired the sensual way his fingers traced the edge of the page as he explained. Soon you found your gaze on his lips. They glimmered under the light in his room because he would occasionally lick his bottom lip during his explanation.

Scaramouche rolled his eyes when he noticed you were no longer paying attention to him. Typical. He turned to you with irritation but it faded when he saw your gaze locked on his lips. His breath hitched.

You looked up when you realised he stopped talking and muttered ‘Oh’ when you realised how close he was to you. For a moment you both stared, daring the other to act on the tension you had created between each other. You didn’t have the guts to do that and Scaramouche knew that.

Scaramouche trailed his fingers along your hand and wrapped it around your wrist. When you didn’t pull away he closed the distance between you and placed his other hand behind your neck. His breath fanned your lips, hesitation lacing his actions. When you didn’t resist he pressed his lips against yours.

He pulled you closer to him, the contact between your lips becoming more rushed and urgent. He grasped the front of your shirt with his hand while the other fiddled with the waistband of your pants. You gasped into the kiss at his touch and brought him closer with your hands that were now wrapped around his neck. You bit his bottom lip then soothed it with your tongue and he allowed himself to melt against you.

You pushed Scaramouche onto his back and trailed kisses over his jawline then down to his neck. He gasped when your lips kissed a particular spot and this encouraged you to linger on that area a little longer. His hands were in your hair in seconds, pulling at the strands like his life depended on it. You shivered at the sensation and continued your assault on his neck. You used one of your hands to support you as you hovered above your best friend, the other hand snaking its way down his chest. You parted from Scaramouche’s neck and kissed him once more as your hand grazed one of his nipples causing him to break the kiss to whisper your name with desperation. Your stomach curled at the sound.

You toyed with his nipples while moving your knee between his thighs, Scaramouchs arching further into your touch. You savoured the little gasps and noises he made as he lost himself in the pleasure you gave him. He began to roll his hips against your thigh over time and to you, this was a sign to go further. So you did.

Your hand trailed down his chest and creeped over his abdomen before settling on the waistband of his pants. You halted and broke the kiss. Scaramouche immediately protested but he cut himself off with a shameless whine when your hand held him from over his pants.

“You have such a pretty voice.” You said before leaning in until your lips brushed against his ear. “You should sing for me like this more often.” You felt him shiver from beneath you which only spurred you forward, “Would you like another kiss?”

He nodded and breathed, “Just not on my lips this time around.” You found his shameless behaviour very endearing but before you could act on his request, your phone rang from the bedside table. It was Aether. You realised why when you noticed his keys beside your phone.

Shit.

[quirkwizard]

So recently I have been on a huge tabletop RPG kick so I thought it would be fun to talk about Class 1-A playing their own tabletop game, both the characters they'd play and how they'd be as players. For the sake of this, I will be writing in the context of Dungeons and Dragons 5th Edition since that's the system myself and others would be the most familiar with.

Rikido Sato: Half Orc Life Cleric Doesn't really get the game too much. Tends to forget the rules a lot and his own abilities. Just kind of picked a class at random. Is the king of bringing snacks and the like, all of which are homemade.

Mashirao Ojiro: Wood Elf Open Hand Monk Pretty average in all respects as a player. Not too remarkable in all respects. Doesn't realized how bad the monk is until they started playing, but is too attached to the character and their concept.

Koji Koda: Firbolg Shepard Druid Is only really here to hang out with his friends. Too shy to really do any roleplay with the rest of the gang, mostly doing small moments with his animals friends. Accidently made an overpowered build.

Minoru Mineta: Dhampir Phantom Rogue Knows the rules, but is a power gamer. Uses the game more as a power fantasy to look as cool as possible at all times, even if it is dumb, though will quickly panic if anything goes slightly wrong.

Hanta Sero: Gith Horizon Walker Ranger Really interested in all the lore and history of whatever the dungeon master came up with. The kind that dungeon masters either love or dread. Is the one constantly asking question and cracking the odd joke about it.

Toru Hagakure: Changeling Arcane Trickster Rogue Super big into the roleplay of it all and is always excited. Mostly took Changeling so she'd have the excess to play as many roles as possible. Probably makes little masks to remind people who she currently is.

Yuga Aoyama: Aasimar Glory Paladin Is insanely devoted to the role of the noble paladin, much to the detriment of everyone else. Likely says the line "But it's what my character would do more then any other player. Constantly hints at a backstory that nobody is biting on.

Mezo Shoji: Hobgoblin Gloomstalker Ranger Not the biggest into roleplay, does fairly well with the actual gameplay. Plays the typically reserved ranged. Tried to tie his and Koda's backstory together to try and take some of the stress off of him in terms of roleplaying.

Kyoka Jiro: Half Elf Whispers Bard Wasn't really sure about all of this before play and went with a bard because she liked the idea of playing music. It was a rocky start, but quickly got into it and started having fun. Will make custom songs and playlists for the party, as well ambient tracks and battle music.

Denki Kaminari: Air Genesi Storm Sorcerer Wanted to try it out because it was popular. Went with something he thought was cool and did not expect it to be so complicated. Needs to be constantly handed the book and remined of the rules in order to make sure he gets it. The amount of math hurts his head. Eijiro Kirishima: Goliath Giant Barbarian Like Denki, wanted to get into because it was popular. Bakugou helped a lot with building the character. Has a lot of fun smashing stuff. Plays his role pretty well, even if his character doesn't go beyond the nice brute whose name is very close to Kirishima's own.

Mina Ashido: Satyr Glamour Bard One of the students the most into the roleplaying. Is very light hearted and goofy about the whole thing. Can play a lot in bard stereotypes because she thinks it's funny. Another instigator, though mostly from her getting too into character at the worst of times. Fumikage Tokoyami: Tiefling Fiend Warlock Has been playing the game the longest and super familiar with all of it. Always makes characters he thinks are "cool", which means are super gothic and depress, both in class and in race. Does occasionally have Dark Shadow dress up and roleplay as his patron. Ochako Uraraka: Fairy Zealot Barbarian Ochako just wants to smash stuff. She has a lot of fun rolling dice and doing cool stuff with her friends, both good and bad. Likes playing the typically pixie before going nuts. Can be an instigator, but tends to backtrack when she realizes just how badly it goes wrong. Tsuyu Asui: Halfling Moon Druid Like Koda, is mostly here to have fun with friends. Often plays mediator both in and out of character. Does a good job with roleplaying thanks to how much she had to play pretend with her simplies. Always causes a riot whenever she becomes a dinosaur. Shoto Todoroki: Hill Dwarf Fighter Champion One of the worst players both in game and in roleplay. Played a character Izuku basically made for him. Is somehow still one of the best because he is constantly getting amazing rolls at the most critical moments, much to the frustration of Bakugou.

Katsuki Bakugo: Custom Lineage Chronurgy Wizard Powergamer, no question. He knows the rules back and forth to make the most broken build possible. Acts like D&D is a game you can win, even when it comes to roleplaying. Not a full on murder hobo, but by far the biggest instigator in the group.

Tenya Iida: Warforged Devotion Paladin Very much devoted to the rules, both in and out of the game. Gets confused when people say that he's doing a good job at playing a robot. Collects a lot of dice. One of the best Dungeon Masters of any of the students, though can be rather controlling at times. Momo Yaoyorozu: High Elf Forge Cleric A really good player with the rules though can be pretty awkward with the roleplay with how much she tries to get into it. One of the best DMs in the class. Makes custom miniatures for everyone in the party. Puts a lot of money to make the ultimate game room. Izuku Midoriya: Variant Human Bladesinging Wizard The perfect player. Knows the roles, but focuses more on making characters. Takes the most notes, pay attention, and makes sure everyone is having fun and feels included. Likely gets roped into the role of dungeon master more then anyone else because of these reasons.

[gallifreyanhotfive]

Random Doctor Who Facts You Might Not Know, Part 49

If you recall from a previous part, it is a class 2 intervention for a Time Lord to set themselves up as a god, and the punishment for this is vaporization. (Audio: False Gods) On an unrelated note, the Doctor is referred to ans treated as a god by many races and species in many different stories.

The Fifth Doctor has given Turlough and likely his other companions long, extended lectures on cricket. (Audio: Phantasmagoria)

The Master was connected to everything and nothing while stuck inside the Eye of Harmony. (Audio: Planet of Dust)

Sarah Jane was aware of the Master before they met in the Death Zone. (Novel: Managra) This suggests that maybe she heard of him through journalism or through UNIT, or maybe, of course, the Doctor spoke about the Master often enough that she became somewhat familiar with who he is.

The Twelfth Doctor once performed surgery on Danny Pink when he had been caught in a blast on an alien world. It was very important to both of them that Clara never found out about it. (Audio: War Wounds)

Time Lords have an instinctive fear of the Ravenous, like how sheep tend to be afraid of wolves and how deer freeze in headlights. (Audio: Deeptime Frontier)

By one account, Sarah Jane thought of the Third Doctor as a father figure but the Fourth Doctor as a mad uncle. (Novel: Managra)

The Master keeps a well stocked liquor cabinet. (Novel: Deadly Reunion)

Under the influence of cyberparticles, K-9 would say "no" instead of "negative." (Audio: The Fate of Krelos)

The Fourth Doctor recalled beating Ernest Hemingway at tiddlywinks, and apparently, Hemingway never forgave him for it. (Audio: Death Match)

The First Doctor and Susan were being pursued by the Chancellery Guard when they stole the TARDIS and ran away from Gallifrey. (Audio: The Beginning)

The Fifth Doctor once used his cricket bat to deflect a sword blow, but his cricket bat was damaged by the impact. This saddened the Doctor. (Comic: The Tides of Time)

The Guardians of Time number six in total and is called the Six-Fold God. All the aspects of the universe are split amongst the six of them. Included in the Six-Fold God are the White Guardian of Light in Time, the Black Guardian of Darkness and Chaos, and the Crystal Guardian of Dream and Fantasy (also known as the Toymaker). (Novel: Divided Loyalties)

The Fifth Doctor and Turlough once showed up to stop an evil from committing murder, only to find multiple versions of the TARDIS nearby and that the previous victims, burnt beyond recognition, all had two hearts. The Doctor realized that he was caught in a paradox and that the previous victims were his future selves who had also shown up to stop the murders. (Audio: Repeat Offender)

According to some, the Doctor was the best agent the Celestial Intervention Agency ever had. (Audio: Intervention Earth)

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