#reblogging appreciated as always!

[haxxydraws]

🏳️‍🌈🧙✨

Happy Pride! Have some wizards!

I'm really happy with how these came out, so I hope you guys like them too :)

If you want, you can also get them on stuff at my redbubble!

[faunandfloraas]

Honestly I think a lot of people who have never made a gif for tumblr don't get that it does actually take time and effort, its not just rip it from a video and post it- you have to download the video, in my case I have a video player installed that grabs continuous caps, figure out what parts you need, you have to open those in photoshop or gimp, depending on where you got photoshop you might be paying for it every month and then on top of that is actually sizing, cropping, colouring, sharpening, adding text, etc. etc. like it is something that takes time and effort for which the only real reward is creating something that makes you happy and hopefully people reblog it with a nice or funny tag, so maybe keep that in mind the next time you think gif makers are being mean or unfair for being upset about reposts. It is its own little artform that is fairly unique to this website, and that's a big aspect of why I have always loved tumblr, if all the gifmakers stopped posting things would be a lot more boring around here.

[sincerelybubbles]

hotch x shy!bau!reader <3 fem content: slight age gap implied. reader is new to the team and more on the introverted side! not proof read, as is my hubris.

Tired, nerves buzzing from a night spent up and chasing sleep that was not welcoming, you throw your bag down on your desk and go off in hunt of coffee. You usually try to curb your caffeine intake, especially with the travel associated with your new job, but this morning is a happy exception to your new rule.

"Here," Emily says, watching you scan the cabinets of the kitchen. You hadn't heard her walk in, but she's offering you a mug with a sympathetic smile. "Long night?"

"Yes," you say, tone thankful, and spin to figure out the coffee machine.

"Three weeks and i haven't seen you use that once," she comments, sipping from her own warm mug and watching you settle the filter in place.

"I've stayed away. it's harder to sleep when I get back because of the jet lag, anyway, don't need to add coffee at all odd hours to the list, too."

It's the most you've said in casual conversation like this. To say you've been shy with your new team would be an understatement. You're good at your job, you were pulled from the academy early to do this for a reason. You fit well into the team, generally. You like listening to Spencer ramble, especially on the longer flights. Rossi's dry humor reminds you of one of your old professors you grew up admiring. JJ is a constant breath of fresh air, Morgan's consistent strength has built up your own moral. Garcia took no getting used to, lifting you up and settling into your life easily. Hotch is intimidating but kind under the colder-tones, long glances sometimes distracting but oterhwise comforting. Emily is easily one of your favorites on the team, friendly and whip-smart. But, at the core of it, you're shy. Painfully so, even.

The team caught onto this quick, settling into the truth that your observational nature that makes you so adept at noticing the smaller details is bound to weep into your social life as well. So, despite your comfort levels rising with the team, you find these situations hard. Do you explain your nightmares to Emily? Share that you're a diagnosed insomniac who spent the night watching FRIENDS reruns after chasing sleep that pranced beyond reach?

"You're better than me, then," Emily says, smiling over her mug. Her eyes tell you she's pleased at the little crack into your life that you've let her see. They're all like that: insufferably kind and polite with your introverted nature but greedily sipping up everything they can learn about you.

"It's a new development," you admit, clicking start on the machine and settling back against the counter facing her. Something about your sleepiness makes it easier to talk, your tongue looser, your ache to let loose around the team more profound. "I'm sure most of us are insomniacs, though."

"Not me," Emily says, chuckling. "I get home and feel like I don't wake up until I get back here."

"Ah, well, I'm sure it can feel like a curse no matter what way you fall," you say with a shrug. Emily lifts her coffee in cheers to that.

"Morning," Morgan says, turning into the kitchen and giving you a surprised smile. "Hello, sunshine, you're looking bright eyed today."

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. "I know, I know."

Emily points with her chin at you, "She's making the coffee this morning."

"Ah-ah, remaking it because you and pretty boy always get here first and finish the first pot." Morgan teases her with a slight shake of his head, grinning and opening the fridge to pull out the creamer.

"Well, you snooze you loose. Or," she sends you a smile, complete with a little nose wrinkle and a tilt of her head, "you don't snooze and still loose."

"Clever," you say, voice dry with humor, hiding your laugh by turning around as the pot finished brewing. "I'll remember this later."

"Careful, she's got teeth," Morgan warns Emily, reaching around you to grab the coffee before you can and filling his cup.

"Hey!" You call in protest, voice raising louder than usual and a pout hitting your lips. Morgan laughs, white teeth on display, eyes crinkled at the corners.

"Here, here," he says, placating, tipping the pitcher to fill your cup as well. "Any sugar or cream to placate the beast?"

Before you can answer, a laugh on the tip o your tongue, Hotch walks in and settles his watchful eyes on you, interest sparking them. You shrink, not in fear but in self-awareness, and send him a closed lip smile. Stepping away from Morgan, you turn quickly to fix your own coffee.

"Good morning," Hotch says, nodding at Emily and Morgan, answering Emily's question about Jack's recent sickness (he's recovering well, thank you) and trying to catch your eye.

You duck away, cowardly and regressing back into your shell, deciding it's time to get to work and stop indulging. You catch Morgan tease Hotch as you leave, though, "Aw, you've scared her off."

You try not to think about it as you duck away, pushing all thoughts of your boss away.

You're unsuccessful.

The problem isn't that you're afraid of him because you think he's mean or unkind in any way. He's done his best to welcome you to the team, allowing you to take investigations in your own direction and listening to your insights since day one. There was a brief moment in your first week where you felt tested, like his questions weren't to gain your insight but to see if you were up to the task, but you slipped past that easily. you have the credentials to back yourself up. you're quiet, yeah, but you're always right on track to where you need to be. pulled early from academy to jump into investigating was hard but it made this easy. a few years of experience under your belt and the job feels natural and, even with the shift in teams to join the big guns in Quantico, you feel like you're exactly where you're meant to be.

No, embarrassingly, this has nothing to do with you not liking your boss or being afraid of him. Rather, he makes you too comfortable. He ducks his head to hear you speak as you walk and talk, settling deep eyes on your face. He's sturdy, dependable, and exactly everything you're all too interested in.

You hate it, harboring a school crush on your boss like you're a teen pining over your teacher. You know it's normal, you know it's perfectly reasonable and there's absolutely nothing wrong with being attracted to him, but you still slink away from him more than the others because of that attraction.

Because it's more than physical.

He listens when you talk. Granted, so do the rest of the team - they're profilers, of course they catalogue everything everyone is saying for future reference. But, beyond that, you catch him paying attention. He complimented your new blouse earlier in the week and it caused air to catch in your throat, suffocating you. It looked new, bright white and without wrinkles, but you knew he must have been looking, noticing, to remember you not wearing it before. He's kind, remembering details about you and the team and using them to aid in everyone's comfort. He knows Spencer can't handle dairy and you've heard him reminding an intern to stock the dairy-free alternatives for creamer in the jet. He brought you a neck pillow on your second flight because you didn't have one.

That gift you accepted with stuttering thank-you's and a flushed face. It hadn't flared this crush, but it definitely aided in your ability to accept it when you finally got around to no longer avoiding how he made you feel with every kind smile and gentle good morning.

You settle down at your desk, putting your steaming mug on a pile of paperwork you really need to sort through, and try to physically push the thoughts out of your head by ranking your hands through your hair, lifting it from your forehead and squeezing your eyes shut. Today isn't the day. You're too tired, sure that the team will be flying out today, and really need to be on your A-Game.

"Everything okay?" A calm voice asks from your elbow. When you look up, you decide the universe hates you. Hotch is leaning on the desk adjacent to yours, holding his own travel cup full of fresh coffee, chin tilted down to check on you. His gaze is kind, light on your face, and his eyebrows are lifted slightly. You get the feeling that he's doing everything in his power to present himself as less imposing.

"Yes, of course," you answer automatically, heart thudding in your throat.

"You know, you shouldn't lie to profilers," he says, tone teasing, voice still low. "If you're tired, it's okay to admit it to me, too."

You're about to brush him off when something in your brain freezes before clicking into place.

He's looking at you, pleading, expression open. He's usually guarded, professional. Caring, but with a guard up. Rare are these moments of genuine asking, especially rarer so are the moment of pleading hidden behind a mask of gentle humor. You think, briefly, about how it must seem to him. He heard you, Emily, and Morgan joking in the kitchen. You haven't been here long, you're shy, but slowly thawing to everyone but him. He doesn't know your reasons, he couldn't, you've made a genuine effort to hide them, and you force yourself to see it from his perspective.

"Sorry," you say, softly, slowly. "I didn't sleep well. First nightmares and then insomnia. Hence," you gesture toward your mug. You shrug, heart beating out of your chest, eyes searching his. Nice, be nice, be open and kind and yourself. "At least I have FRIENDS reruns to keep me company."

You see something relax in him at your gentle offering of the information. He sends you a not-quite-smile, nodding once and pushing himself off of the desk he was lightly leaning against.

"Take a few minutes, I'm sure JJ will call us in soon." He scans your face for a moment before looking down at your desk. He reaches forward, slowly but with purpose, and lifts a file that has been nagging you for days. The new computer system is hard to get used to and the paperwork load is heavier than you've experienced before. "I can help you with this to ease some of your load, too."

He's walking away before you can protest, tucking the file under his arm and ducking into his office. He moves swiftly, leaving no room for argument, and you're left at your desk, mouth agape and heart in your mouth.

"Wow," Spencer says, jolting you in your chair to spin around and face him. His desk is near yours, across a walkway, and you hadn't registered him sitting there. You think he was nose-deep in a book when you walked in but you hadn't been paying attention. "I don't think I've seen him warm up to someone that fast," Spencer admits, leaning back in his seat and giving you a confused look, eyebrows lowered. "Actually, he's never offered to help me do my paperwork. Ever."

"That's because you read far too fast for it to actually help you," you offer, mind racing, words hollow as your thoughts are elsewhere.

Eyes trained on the windows of Hotch's office, you take his advice and relax for the few minutes before JJ comes to gather you all in the conference room. Coffee on your lips, you let yourself smile behind the rim of your mug. You can't imagine how you could think of anything other than that, really.

[alwaysrunningoutoftime]

a jossam kiss in 2024 thx to our lord & saviour reddit u/girlbvy3e

[dreamsicle262]

Dead Plate AU Information

This is a masterpost detailing my AUs for Dead Plate, which may soon become their own fanfics—if given enough time—since I plan on trying to write out a few. There's a lot of text so be warned: there's a long post underneath the cut. I tried to describe character designs when necessary because there's currently no images like character sheets/references yet. Hopefully I'll get there. This post might be edited if I have more AU ideas, or if I add pictures.

As a note beforehand, I do have a headcanon involving Vincent not having a sense of smell, since being able to taste goes hand in hand with being able to pick up on scents. If he can’t taste things, then he likely cannot smell anything either. This headcanon remains consistent with him in these universes, unless stated otherwise.

Vampire AU

Dead Plate, but Vincent is a vampire. That’s pretty much what this AU is.

At some point prior to the events of Dead Plate, Vincent got turned into a vampire. He has only been dealing with it for a short amount of time, and his fangs have been taking quite a while to grow in. He didn’t really think anything of it at first. He still couldn’t taste foods, his appetite generally remained low, and he usually didn’t experience hunger very strongly.

He does murder Manon still. It’s during this time that Vincent is suddenly aware that he’s able to smell blood. Naturally, he figures that if he can smell blood, then he might be able to taste it. However, he doesn’t drink any of Manon’s blood to test this; whatever she has to offer he’s not interested in. It’s at this point that his plans have changed, and figuring out if he can actually taste something aside from nothing at all becomes his main priority. The whole ‘cooking with love’ thing is put off to the side for the time being. This could be attributed to him being selfishly inclined.

It's only when Rody accidentally cuts open his finger the next day that things change, and he actually does take the opportunity he’s been given to taste test his blood. As expected, this is an awkward situation for the both of them afterwards.

I haven’t fully decided on where I’d like to go with this AU to make it any different from the main plot of Dead Plate, but maybe an incident happens during the dinner party or something. I’ll figure it out when I actually get to writing the potential fanfic for this one.

There are no design changes for this AU aside from me giving Vincent fangs. He looks normal otherwise, and his fangs aren’t visible when his mouth is closed. There’s general vampire lore that I use that’s different from what’s usually expected of vampires but that probably doesn’t need to be elaborated here. I’m always open to questions on my AUs for further clarification though.

Florist + butcher AU

Rody is a florist, and Vincent is a butcher.

Vincent wasn’t able to open up a restaurant in this AU, but was content with opening up a butcher shop instead, still providing quality service to his customers in the process. Despite his shop being popular, it isn’t as large as it could be. In order to not put as much pressure on himself, he does have a few employees managing the shop’s orders, which mostly consists of providing custom cuts of meat or preparing special deliveries since his business is still a fairly big deal. Vincent himself mostly deals with the actual butchering in the back, instead of serving customers directly. He’s very picky about where he sources his products from, only accepting offers from places with a track record of animals raised to be high quality. Sometimes, this makes his store’s selections limited, and because it takes time to get new shipments in occasionally due to the distance, the products rotate every two days. Vincent lives above his business.

Rody is a florist, having managed to open up a store by saving up enough money to rent out an available building right next to Vincent’s butcher shop. He did this in order to cope with his break up, and to hopefully impress Manon and get her back. Since he’s managed to start his own business, it’s working out for him, surprisingly. Even if his business is for her sake and not his, at least he’s making progress with some personal growth and success. Rody still has a few issues with sourcing his products if he can’t grow them himself, but is otherwise doing okay. It is due to this reason that he is unable to deliver flowers, and majority of his customers are walk-ins instead. The only exception is if they happen to live nearby and he can reach them that way with his bike. Some of the flowers he sells come from his rooftop garden, which is contained within a greenhouse so he doesn’t go out of business every winter. His new apartment is below this garden, but above his flower shop. It is still considerably messy, but he tries to make improvements where he can.

Manon never had a rebound with Vincent, and was only aware that Rody had opened up a flower shop when he happened to get an advertisement in the newspaper and she saw it. Since then, she has opted to stay in contact with him, and occasionally visits like she used to. She lives somewhat nearby both stores. Given how Rody is making personal progress instead of being too self-sacrificing for her, she’s been trying to encourage him to invest more into his business instead of worrying about her all the time. It’s worked a little bit so far. Sometimes, Rody gives her nice bouquets of flowers that have meanings behind them since he knows quite a lot about flower language now.

Plot-wise, Rody will be staying in his chosen location near Vincent's butcher shop until he has enough money to relocate, but during that time he will get to know Vincent more due to their close proximity to each other constantly. Vincent, while originally annoyed by Rody's presence, starts to become intrigued by him and wants him to stay just so he can observe him some more. Of course, this leads to problems when he catches wind that Rody will be leaving soon, and is later told by Rody himself that he'll soon be 'out of his hair' in another month or so.

In response to this, Vincent starts sabotaging Rody's business by messing with stuff regarding the building (electrical cables, etc etc) and killing off his most frequent customers in order to cook into meals for him as potential bribery to stay. All of this negatively impacts Rody's business, especially financially, so he has to remain where he is longer than expected. He doesn't even know that Vincent is killing his business (quite literally) right next to him.

Design-wise, Rody wears an outfit similar to his casual clothes, but with his shirt buttoned up. His undershirt is a faded mossy green. Over his shirt, he has a dark brown apron with small, white floral patterns embroidered at the bottom to make it more noticeable. He also has an upper left pocket in the apron that he uses to tuck one flower in every day. It is usually roses of varying colors, but can be other flowers that mean love as well. Sometimes, his hair is tied back in a small low ponytail.

Vincent's design remains relatively the same, save for a kind of yellowish apron that goes over his outfit as well, and a pair of black gloves. His apron used to be white, but, given the nature of his work, it ended up giving it a look similar to old and yellowed book pages. It definitely has a few stains on it, but that comes with the job.

Manon retains her usual design. Can't improve perfection.

Zombie apocalypse AU

I had the vague idea for this AU, and @dollsteaparty helped me out with some other bits.

This AU is after the Table for One ending.

The zombie apocalypse happens and Rody primarily remains in his apartment during the beginning of it. He doesn't dare leave, and he doesn't even bother to look outside. The prospect of it scares him shitless, and for good reason. However, at some point he starts running out of food, and he can really only think of one good place in order to stock up. This forces him to finally venture out of his safe haven of his apartment and go back to Vincent's restaurant.

Unfortunately, Vincent is undead by this time, and isn't in a very good shape. His mouth is all fucked up and generally looks kinda like that one doodle in the upper left corner of a page by one of the devs that looked like it was based on a game or something. To make matters worse, he regained his ability to taste when he got turned in the first place, but his jaw is weakened and he can't bite down as well as he'd like or move it as much as he wants to most of the time. He can taste just fine but can't eat well, which has the expected side effect of pissing him off greatly with how ironic it is. Other than that, he's pretty well put together as a zombie, aside from the obvious ravenous behavior and poor muscle control that comes with being one in general.

When Rody does find Vincent, he's in the freezer room, and while Rody is strong enough to hold him off, it quickly becomes annoying to have to do. Eventually he's able to come to a compromise with Vincent, since apparently he's able to be reasoned with even in his current condition. Rody stitches up the sides of Vincent's jaw to the best of his ability to make it look more normal, but his handiwork isn't the best since his hands were so shaky. He was just nervous about them being near Vincent's mouth and the possibility of being bitten that comes with that.

The two then enter a relationship of forced codependency due to Vincent wanting to reopen his bistro even though it's the apocalypse since he's dead set on continuing business as usual and he can finally taste food, and Rody needing a safer place to stay where there's a food supply available, not to mention weapons. In fact, Rody's return helps the restaurant reopen, since beforehand people were too scared to enter the place, and they didn't even know it was technically still functional. It's still clean and everything too, because there was no way in hell Vincent would let his bistro fall into ruin.

The place becomes tense neutral ground where no violence is permitted in the dining area, and people are advised to use their best manners. It's a fine dining establishment and they will act accordingly. Both alive and undead customers show up, but now there's a sign outside the bistro that has a set of rules that everyone has to abide by if they wish to live. Besides, Vincent is capable of either reasoning with or even outright threatening other undead people if they don't act nice to their living counterparts while inside or around his esteemed establishment.

No one can have their weapons out or in view, customers cannot fight amongst themselves, no one except for staff are allowed in the kitchen, don't ask about the screams coming from the freezer, no one is advised to make sudden movements like running (something about predator drive and sudden movements making even valued customers look like prey), no one is advised to send the meals back to the kitchen since they most likely don't want their scent on it (they'll be associated with the food and have to be killed anyways), and if anyone has a problem, they can take it up with Vincent personally in the freezer. True to his word, Vincent still doesn't serve human meat... to his human customers. Any undead customers will usually be consuming human meat in their dishes because they can actually appreciate it.

Rody is the only one allowed to serve the customers in the dining area because all of the cooks working for Vincent are also undead, with the exception of the one cook that was fired since they got rehired. They help to desensitize their undead coworkers to a human in their midst, and also are a familiar face, so they have a lower risk of getting attacked. The zombified cooks and their fear of Vincent overrides any instincts that they might have as zombies, so he's capable of keeping them in line and certainly isn't afraid to enforce his rules in the kitchen. Both Vincent and his employees are in a much better preserved condition than any zombies outside the establishment due to them having access to a functional freezer. Also, Vincent does still pay whoever works for him. Vincent's apartment just upstairs has largely not been used in awhile, so that is where Rody stays, along with people who are looking for a safe place to stay for only one night. Vincent gets oddly upset when there's guests and Rody has to stay with them, but he does know it's for the better. Rody is also responsible for going on resource runs for cleaning supplies or ingredients, and for also stitching up the cooks when necessary.

Speaking of the cooks, sometimes they are put in the freezer on meat hooks as a form of solitary confinement for messing up very badly. They look miserable through that window in the freezer room door and Rody can very clearly see them when this does occur. That one human cook isn't stabbed with the meat hook and is usually just tied to it instead. If Rody gets the same treatment, he is usually tied up and left to sit on the floor for awhile, but typically doesn't remain in there for long since he either has to serve customers or Vincent deems his expression too 'unpleasant to look at' and lets him go anyways.

Character designs aren't too different aside from Vincent looking a little messed up in regards to his jaw, and Rody looking a lot more unkempt.

I also don't know where I'm going with this AU and if I particularly want Rody to be zombified or not... but I did think about a scenario where that would happen, as a treat. He would be turned by Vincent personally if he was dying somehow, and he'd probably try to get to his heart to eat it first before Rody turns completely. Something about wanting to taste what love really tastes like since it's his heart... and for Rody, laying his heart bare (literally in this case) and being able to love in such a way that it practically seems like he's serving his heart on a platter. Very big fan of the character design and what it could mean or show about him. Also I think Rody should lose the ear he lost in the actual game too. Just because.

As for that one human cook, Vincent would probably just get another cook to make them into a zombie if they were on the verge of death. They're not worth his time.

Plushie platonic soulmate AU

(Disclaimer: I actually am not fond of soulmate AUs in the traditional sense (aka almost exclusively romantic in nature) so this is platonic. Vincent is aspec to me in some way to begin with, so there's that too.)

During his emotional turmoil following his break up, Rody receives a mysterious plushie at his doorstep that looks like someone he’s never met before. He doesn’t know who sent it. This plushie is Vincent, but Rody doesn’t really know that yet. He’s heard of him since he’s a world renowned chef, but he’s not very familiar with his appearance. Either way, he reluctantly decides to keep the plushie, before eventually discarding it after it keeps showing up in his kitchen despite him putting it on a shelf somewhere. Also, his utensils seem to move in different places every day, so it’s creeping him out. It’s during this time that he’s looking for a job, but doesn’t take up the opportunity to work for Vincent, and instead opts for a simple fast food job. The Vincent plushie keeps showing up despite Rody’s attempts to get rid of it, so he just gives up and lets it remain in his apartment. One day, he wakes up to a fresh lemon tart, but no evidence that it was baked using his kitchen, especially since he doesn’t even have the ingredients to make that dessert. Beside it is the plushie, sitting there innocently.

On the other side of things, Vincent also receives a plushie of Rody that appears in his apartment one day on his living room table. He simply discards it, uncaring of where it came from. However, it keeps appearing again and again and it’s frustrating him to no end. At some point, he mutilates it with one of his knives, then trashes it again. When it comes back just as new, he puts it in plastic packaging and tosses it out of his window into the alley. When it returns yet again, he finally gets so fed up that he shoves it into the oven and sets it on fire that way. The plushie ends up coming back again and Vincent just puts it on his desk in his room, unwilling to mess with it anymore. He has no idea who the plushie was supposed to be because he’s never seen anyone like that before in his bistro. On top of this being strange, he also feels the strange urge to hide this plushie from Manon, since he doesn’t want her knowing that he has this. It’s unnatural and out of character for him to have something like that when it doesn’t serve any real purpose.

At some point, Rody and Vincent get to find the other person with their plushie counterpart and are both left thoroughly confused as to what it could mean.

Character designs for this AU do not vary.

Vincent forced therapy AU

Funnily enough, this AU came to me in a dream with one vague scene, and then it just went from there after discussing it with @vinylbiohazard. It's also exactly what it sounds like.

This AU is set after the Best Served Hot ending.

Vincent somehow survives after his restaurant was set on fire, but does have severe burns and some blood loss. The only reason why he doesn’t have severe blood loss is because the wound on his neck was cauterized by the flames, so it ended up not bleeding as much anymore. There’s still the glass shards that needed to be dealt with, though, so he does still need medical attention. One of the luckiest factors in this is how his restaurant was running out of cooking oil anyways, which is one of the reasons why he was even able to get out in the first place before his exits were blocked off.

Whenever the information of his bistro burning down becomes public, the general assumption of what happened is that he had been drunk, suddenly ‘snapped,’ and then tried to commit suicide while also taking his business with him. Essentially, his life is ruined, because he doesn’t seem too stable to the general population, and the media is having a field day with headlines. He does end up in the hospital trying to recover, and he’s not permitted to speak much for a while so his neck can heal. He technically still can since his vocal cords weren’t damaged, but it’s best that he doesn’t talk for some time. His neck is still in bad shape, but it could have been worse; the wine bottle that he was stabbed with narrowly missed the major veins and arteries in that area. By the end of everything, he does heal enough to look relatively normal, aside from the burns and scar tissue.

During this time, Rody is laying low at his apartment. He never comes out with the truth regarding his missing ear, and everyone just assumes that he lost it in an unrelated accident for being clumsy. While he would ideally like to stay away from the food industry, he does end up finding another job at a fast food place. When he learns that Vincent is still alive, he’s initially still upset, but since he’s had some time to cool down following the incident, he mostly just feels horrible. After all, he had expressed some concern about Vincent losing everything if something were to happen to his business. While not ready to approach him about it in the direct aftermath, Rody decides that he will try to talk it out with him at a later date.

As it gets closer to the day where Vincent can be released from the hospital, Rody shows up to talk to him, or, more accurately, speak his mind. He can talk to him without being interrupted, so he’s taking his opportunity to explain why he was so upset and why he acted the way he did. Adrenaline and trying to make rational decisions don’t mix well. Vincent has to sit there and listen to Rody rant for a little bit, all while he’s still not supposed to speak. At some point a nurse asks if the two were friends or something, and Rody has to awkwardly go along with it and say yes. Vincent is probably grumbling to himself mentally as this occurs.

Unfortunately, since Vincent’s apartment was above his restaurant, he doesn’t have anywhere else to go but Rody’s apartment following being released from the hospital. Rody’s not too happy with it either, but he’ll manage. In fact, he’s the reason why Vincent even gets to go to therapy in the first place. He’s the one to suggest it.

Vincent keeps taking Rody’s knives in his apartment because he doesn’t use them, they’re sharp, and he’s been considering killing Rody off anyways from being forced to live with him for so long. He has to keep getting them confiscated by Rody due to this. Whenever he’s scheduled to have therapy, however, he brings at least three knives with him and keeps them hidden. He doesn’t actually get to take them into the room where he’s supposed to have a therapy session and he has to begrudgingly give them all back to Rody beforehand. He may have been fully intending on using them to murder the therapist. It doesn’t look good for him, but he essentially has a mentality similar to ‘I’ve lost everything so why does it matter what I do now?’, so he doesn’t care.

There are no design changes for Rody in this AU, but Vincent has a few. There’s scar tissue on the right side of his neck from being stabbed there, as well as burn scars. There’s additional burns on most of his upper torso and arms. Any other burns aren’t as major, and most of them on his body healed over. In the hospital, he had bandages on over these while they were still healing.

[warmfuzzyanimal]

it's here! the cow base!! it's done!!! EASILY the biggest base i've made so far, and i'm really really proud of it!! now............................... go forth and bring more beautiful cow furries to this beautiful earth

[tinyfantasminha]

I don't want to keep clogging my blog with vent posts but uh... I guess this is a more general concern/observation

But it's getting real hard to stay motivated in fandom spaces when there's little compensation, and annoying occurrences are more frequent than good ones.

Mainly there's been less engagement/people showing interest in creators and their art (such as sending asks, making comments and reblogging with tags) and MORE parasocial interactions. This goes for both artists and writers.

Over this year I've noticed a vast disinterest within my public in general. Asks about ocs, my art, or just nice simple comments of ''I love your art'' has been getting more and more scarce. My follower number is bigger than 2-3 years ago sure and I get more likes on my posts but they are feeling more like just numbers and statistics than actual people who supposedly like my stuff.

And while people being parasocial with creators has always been a thing, I feel like it's gotten way worse... in general? People sending personal pictures out of the blue in hopes of being validated, unwanted psychological advice or assumptions about the creator without any established connection first ( <- these happened to me in the same week.) ventdump, just insensitive/lacking of common sense comments in general, unreasonable demands (mostly with writers)... I wondered at first if it was just me, but a handful of mutuals/acquaintances who are artists and writers seems to be going through it as well.

It's annoying. It's tough. It's getting exhausting. Creators pour so much of themselves into their work—countless hours, effort, and passion, all to share something meaningful or entertaining with others (and for FREE) The LEAST anyone can do is show respect, even if opinions differ. When a writer posts a fanfic, don't just say ''omg post next chapter!'', when an artist posts a drawing of their favorite character, don't just say ''omg draw (character) next!'' as if they're faceless content machines that are expected to churn out more '''content''' for you without acknowledgment, encouragement, or appreciation.

''I want to support creators but I don't know what to say and I feel intimidated by their talent so I just lurk silently :((('' I swear to you, no creator (at least not the majority) is making up an intimidating persona to discourage you from interacting with them. They WANT your comments. A single ''I love your art/writing/videos'' or even something as silly as ''I want to eat your art'' is enough to keep a creator sighing dreamily for WEEKS. It doesn't have to be deep! It's heartfelt and that's what it matters!! (Just remember to keep it relevant and thoughtful... It takes just a bit of common sense NOT to comment things like ''this looks like (another character)'' or ''this but with (another unrelated ship/character/show)''. No one wants to hear comparisons or unrelated ideas when they’ve poured their soul into something.)

In fact, the ''I like your art but I think you're intimidating'' feels more hurtful than flattering. It makes me feel like I'm doing something wrong, acting wrong. 💀

If you love that fanfic that changed your brain psyche forever and want to gush about it, go tell the writer. If you loved so much a piece of art that you saved it a million times in your phone and can't stop thinking about it, go tell the artist. Push away the ''they probably won't care about my comment/it won't make a difference'' thoughts. DO IT NOW. You won't know when they might go inactive forever or deactivate. You can't know if that is the last piece they will ever post. Make sure you show appreciation to creators NOW, while they are still here. While they're still not being replaced by AI.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

In Regards To Your 2024 Summary:

Holy shit it’s been another year????? The hell?????

Also! Your art style is gorgeous and that being found in 2023 and then refined throughout late 2023 and the entirety of 2024 really shows, as does your growth in panel layouts, perspective, and — as you said — experimentation. If you ever post your animation or video game art I’m looking forward to it.

As cheesy as it sounds, being able to laugh at funny comics and look at all the details of your art really made my 2024 brighter, even when things were hard. Including looking at your older art— it doesn’t need to be new to be enjoyable! I’m glad your art is well loved and it’s a privilege to have been here since the (near) beginning. I hope you take care of yourself in 2025 and beyond!

You and your art bring a lot of people a lot of joy never forget that <3

Thank you so much for keeping up with my art journey throughout these last two years! Two years!!! I am baffled at how that feels both too long and too short!

Admittedly, my art summary didn't manage to capture the fact that I did a lot of comic layouts that I'm really proud of. I also drew more backgrounds and made some very detailed works (*Dungeon Meshi spoilers for these examples*).

The growth is lot more evident when comparing my 'best' comics of 2023 to 2024:

Sometimes the growth is vertical, sometimes it is horizontal - and damn, sometimes it goes out of sight into the Z-plane. But it is always happening!

[theheroandthehoodlum]

Happy Halloween, Greasers 🧡👻

[skialdi]

🪄💖✨

The cutest commission done for @forevertableflip 💖

[muffinsin]

Hiya, really been enjoying your work lately, so thank you for your time and effort :)

Basically this ask is a very loose idea so u can take it however u want. But the basic idea is Dom G!P-Reader x Dimi Sisters (Separately) where the Dimi sisters have been bratty as hell lately and so Reader in the dead of night, brings them down to the center of the village and Rails them for all to hear as punishment. And nobody Sane is gonna look outside, cause there are monsters about, but Reader definitely intends to be heard.

Anyway that’s basically the idea, once again thank you for your time and effort with these asks and hope u have a nice day/evening/night

Oh, now that's a delicous ask, hon! ;P

Let's get into this :)

Masterlists

Bela

She's blushing a little as you bring her along, your grip on her petite wrist tight, but not forceful. She allows after you obediently, this once, having given you nothing but trouble this week.

Now, she knows, you've got enough of it. Of her snarky comments and responses, her eye rolls, her little huffs or sarcastic little remarks. She knows she's been a brat, yes. Bela fully knows she's frustrated you to no end, too, her pretty mouth spilling nonesense, one bothersome, snarky comment after another.

Only is she a little unsure about what you're doing here.

She finds herself brought to the village in the middle of the night, dressed in little but her white robe that she wears to bed, the straps tight against her shoulders. The air is warm, still. The cold is never an issue in winter, she finds. And so, she doesn't mind how little protective clothing she has on, dressed only in her heels and in the nightdress and her panties below it.

As she looks down and spots her rock hard nipples poke against the fabric of her thin dress, even sees the light outline of them due to the white nature of the clothing, she can't help but blush.

Perhaps she should have taken the time to change, even as you insisted she follows now.

She stops only when you get all the way to the statue in the centre and you pause. You cross your arms, facing her at last, your expression a rather hard one.

You know, your girlfriend is not one to let you devour her in front of others directly. However, Bela grows more and more aroused knowing someone is near, perhaps near enough to hear, even. She always becomes a tad bit wetter when someone is around, just out of sight, just out of earshot. Usually, that is a maid.

Never would the polite, headstrong, perfect daughter of Alcina Dimitrescu allow someone to actually catch her, of course! Or even hear her, she would insist.

Sadly, your pretty girlfriend is a screamer. Your ilttle songbird is quite vocal, especially when she just feels so, so good.

As such, you usually move your hand across her mouth, sparing her the embarassment of her sisters hearing it and teasing her relentlessly for days, as well as your own skin, for you're sure her mother would not hesitate to attempt to sever your head from her body should she hear, insisting you're defiling her daughter or what not.

Perhaps, she's not wrong.

You do so love doing such filthy things to your brat, after all.

Especially when she's got a mouth on her, as she has recently.

This time, though, it's a little different. This time, she will be heard.

Humiliation. A proper punishment for your sweet songbird, the kind that has her get wet and feel sweet shame, the kind that shocks her back into behaving, even as the brat in her craves for more of this treatment. Living in the perfect world and having to portray the perfect, headstrong Dimitrescu heiress, Bela does so love it when you take charge for her, when you break her down. Always forceful, but never too rough.

Humiliation, it is.

She moans lowly, a rare sound at this volume, as you bring her closer and push your lips to hers. And while she originally attempts to fight you playfully, trying to win out against your tongue with her own, she submits fairly fast, her mind reeling with what else she could throw at you to truly make you snap.

Ah, to make a top snap. A brat's dream.

Or your brat's dream, certainly.

She hums against your lips, smirking briefly until she feels your hands wander to the straps of her dress. Her golden eyes widen a little and a gasp falls from her lips when you tug it forcefully, exposing the upper part of her cleavage, the top of her breasts visible, now.

"Here?", she gasps, her eyes wide, any snarky remark she was about to make pulled from her mind, now. Still, there's a smile playing on her lips. She trusts you, and foolishly believes that despite her brattiness, you will still help her keep quiet.

Alas, she ought to know;

Only good girls receive such guidance. And unfortunately for your pretty girlfriend, she is entirely incapable of being quiet when her sensitive body is fondled and your cock drills into her.

"Off", you simply command, shaking your head a little when you see a playful smirk play on her lips.

"Mhmm...no", she hums playfully, giggling when she notices you grip the strap of her night dress a little tigher. She presses herself closer to you, batting her long eyelashes at you, her thick lips curled to a playful smile.

"You do it", she adds, giggling to herself when you shake your head at her. Still, your cock pulses between your legs already, growing harder each moment you're with her and each moment you fantasize about what you're about to do.

As such, you quickly grow impatient, grabbing at her clothing and tugging it from her, up above her head, and lick your lips as you see her breasts bounce, then settle again.

Her nipples are hard, her porcelain skin momentarily covered in goosebumps as the night's air traces her flesh.

She's shoked at your impatience, gasping when your hand falls and a finger hooks into the front of her white panties.

Only now does she become awfully aware of where you are, of how exposed she would be if a villager was to step outside their home. They'd see her smooth skin, her perky breasts and nipples, her long legs, and- she's sure- soon also her shaven pussy, utterly sensitive when you pet it.

"What was that, Bela?", you hum, your boxers and pants almost unbearably tight on you as you tug her closer yet again. While your fingertips are hooked firmly into her panties, you feel her soft, sensitive pussy beneath it. You can't help but wonder whether she's wet already, and the thought only makes you breathe out lowly in return. She does always get so wet so very fast for you...

"I-", she starts, though finds herself at a loss of words yet again when you tug her underwear down. A bright pink blush heats up her cheeks as you guide her to step out of them. She feels so utterly exposed, far more so than ever before, and almost feels like a deer in the headlights, her bratty attitude gone and replaced by an almost shy one.

You tug her closer yet again, chuckling when her hands immediately go to your belt, her sharp nails digging into the leathery fabric, her fingertips trying to get it open already. You tsk at her.

You grasp her chin tightly, smirking as you feel her face heat up even more.

"You can be such a good girl, Bela", you coo, and the words alone have her gasp and push her legs together, as though your voice hit her right where she needs it most, now. You only tsk again.

"Obedient, patient, intelligent, submissive...", you trail off, inspecting her face slowly, as though making a show of your patience, even as it's coming to an end already. "But you've not been a good girl, have you, Bela?"

She opens her mouth to speak, but you tug her closer by her chin, shaking your head subtly.

"None of that now, brat. I only want to hear your screams tonight, until you're ready to have an apology fucked from your bratty little mouth"

Your words sting in the best way, have her moan and whimper lowly, her clit pulsing, her pussy leaking already. She's completely bare still, while you find yourself fully dressed. If anyone was to look, your power balance and status as the dominant one in this situation would be painfully obvious. And Bela, the intelligent thing she is, is fully aware of it.

Only does it add to her humiliation and arousal.

And just briefly, she considers being good. But she's a good girl so often! What's the harm in playing the brat just a little longer?

Then, her fingers tug at your belt again and she giggles, allowing herself a brief moment longer of playfulness as she smirks at you. In the next moment already she's grabbed, though. She gasps as you tug her to the well, shrieking in surprise as you push her to her knees. The ground is dirty, some of it rubbing uncomfortably against her knees. Yet again, if she had only been a good girl, this would not be an issue. After all, a good girl wouldn't have been brought out to the village to be railed and toyed with for all to hear. A good girl would not be getting the humiliating, rather rough treatment you have in store for her.

Bela's about to speak when she's cut off by her own gasp and shrieks the moment you grab at her hair- the base, as to hurt her less. You know your girlfriend isn't the biggest on pain being inflicted on her beyond the occaisonal spanking- and tug her head back.

"I told you, no speaking now, you little brat. I've had about enough of your comments", youo scowl, giving her hair another tug when she parts her lips yet again, as though testing you.

You do this a few more times, chuckling when another two times or so she repeats this, before rolling her eyes and sealing her lips at last.

A little more...

She watches with wide, hungry eyes as you unbuckle the belt yourself, groaning in relief when you can finally tug down your trousers and underwear. Her playful brattiness is quickly replaced by a shriek when, due to how close you're standing, your cock slaps against her face instead. You laugh as she flinches in surprise, gasping and scowling, trying to move her head a little despite the tight grasp you have on her.

"Open"

She gasps again at your vulgar command, and the implication behind it. Here?! Where...where anyone foolish enough to step outside could easily spot the proud, strong, dominant Dimitrescu on her knees, sucking you off like a common village slut? Her cheeks flush and heat up, but her gasp is enough for you to force your dick between her parted lips.

Again, she shrieks in surprise, her hands shooting up to your hips to steady herself, but she's not nearly prepared for the fast pace you choose this time.

You allow her no time to get used to having you in her mouth, allow her no say in how quick you're going.

Instead, you snap your hips back and forth fast, angling yourself to have her choke and gag around you deliciously. Her golden eyes water and she moans adorable, each moan and groan coming with vibrations around you that have you shiver and thrust just a little harder.

"You..."

A harsh thrust.

"are going to..."

Another harsher one, one that has her gag and shriek adorably, all her sounds coming out muffled and slurred.

"fucking behave", you grunt.

You move your hands down, tugging her in a new position that demands she tilts her head back completely. Sliding your hands to her throat carefully, you groan as you thrust again, feeling your cock slide up against your hands from the other side of her throat.

You feel it bulge from your entire lenght, the tip beautifully traced by her tight throat, the choker necklace tight around her. She's moaning and shrieking, once again unable to stay quiet.

Alas, even as her nipples are rock hard and breasts bounce, even as she presses her thighs together and whimpers adorabley, even as her eyes water and tears run down her cheeks, even as they slip shut when your balls slap against her face in this angle, you allow her no ounce of dignity left.

She jumps when your leg pushes up against her thighs, but quickly spreads them for you, her earlier brattiness roughly throat-fucked from her, her body trembling and moans coming from her.

Really, she ought to be thankful you're stuffing her mouth, knowing she can't be quiet and will, if not careful, become the newest talk among the villagers, likely as they decide whether it was someone having fun at late of night or suffering a horrible fate.

Pushing your leg between hers, you feel her grind against your boot eagerly, uncaring of the slight dirt sticking to it, now. She needs you, and needs your touch.

And being the good girl she knows fully well she ought to be, she knows to obey, to let you think, to stop with her attitude, lest you will simply fuck it from her mouth again.

Cassandra

Cassandra is, for the lack of a better word, an utter brat. She's spoiled, defensive, needy, impatient, and takes the definition of "brat" to a whole new level. Of course, there's times you can succesfully take care of the brat in her and get rid of it- temporarily, of course. She will never fully stop pestering you, will never stop bratting her way through the day.

And still, there's times where your little brat takes this to a whole new level.

Recently especially, she's been nothing but a little pest. You've been unable to get any work done at all, having always been interrupted by her by any means. Often, she does this by simply grabbing and tugging you away, using the strenght granted to her by the cadou inplant a mortal stands little chance against.

At other times, she "convinces" you to stop your work, swarming on top of your lap or a surface in front of you. When you're alone, she's often bold enough to be entirely naked, her fingers already sliding down her body.

And even with people around, she'll smirk suggestively, moaning this and that in your ear, her hands trailing down your body, subtly stroking over the hard bulge in your pants. That's another thing; the brat cannot keep her hands to herself. Normally, you don't mind, but you do believe she ought to be taught some manners eventually, no matter how beautiful she looks all nice and tied up for you.

At other times, she goes the extra mile, really, dropping some bloodied thing- guts, animals, women, in front of you and forcing you to clean up the mess. Of course, Cassandra can't be bothered to clean.

You grit your teeth at the mere thought; often you counter her dislike towards cleaning by tying her up on the bed and making her suck at your cock for hours, until both of you are sore, cleaning up her own mess, especially often after you've been in her.

Today, though, you have something different planned.

She growls quietly under her breath as she's tugged along, her arm gripped tightly by you. Occaisonally, she'll act as though she doesn't like the force you're applying, act as though she wants to get away, but one thing is and will always be a clear hint: the amount of strenght she posseses. For she could easily get away from you, swarming, or by ripping herself from you, but she chooses not to, and you know it.

She offers only pathetic attempts at tugging her arm free, growing wetter each time you tug her back even harder and tighten your grip on her in return, sure enough able to bruise her. Oh; you know, the thought gets your little masochist soaked.

Lured here by the false idea of hunting together at night, she follows eagerly still, unaware that you're taking taming to a new level, now.

You know, after all, if there's one thing that both, gets your sweet Cassie wetter than anything else, and tames the brat in her more than anything else, is Humiliation.

Sheer, proper, humiliation.

Whether that means tying her up and slutting her out, filling all her holes and making her bounce on your cock until her face burns bright red and warm, putting her in tight, humiliating outfits, she loves it all, and it works wonders in putting her back in her place.

Alas, this is a whole new level. To take your beautiful brat and take her in the village, surrounded by those so dearly afraid of her. You know, none will dare step outside, but the threat that they have the opportunity to will be enough to humiliate the woman back into being a good pet for you, you know.

When you finally arrive by the village, surrounded now by quiet houses, the graveyard and the statue in the centre of the town, you turn to her at last.

"Strip", you command, your tone technically leaving no room for arguments, even as you know your brat will do so, anyway.

She laughs, as though this is a joke, not once considering you might be serious. She only shakes her hips at you, giggling as her fingertip trails across your chest. "You first, little mouse", she coos, yet once again her laughter implies that she does not yet suspect a thing.

This, however, changes drastically when you grab her dress with your free hand and yank it up. She shrieks in surprise, her hands immediately trying to tug it back down, her cheeks flushing as she looks around, as though paranoid someone might've seen. You almost coo.

Strong, bold little Cassandra, shy about the possibility of some pervert getting off to her body.

You laugh at her, this time, tightening your hold on her upper arm and tugging her to you. She gasps, her teeth gritting when your hand lets go of her dress to grab at her face instead.

Her cheeks are slightly warm already- good. But not nearly good enough just yet.

She snarls when you lean in, your lips brushing across hers for a moment before she turns her head. You laugh, tightening her grasp and forcing her head back to you. The force of strenght and dominance has her gasp and moan, her eyes fluttering shut for but a moment before she tries to turn her head, attempting to challenge you once again.

Again, though, you don't give her the chance too.

You force her head back, gripping her cheeks tight enough that the tips of your nails dig into her skin sharply. You push your lips against hers, and while she originally tries to defy you, growling brattily as though she stands a chance at dominating you this time, she's proven wrong quickly. She's left moaning when you force your tongue inside her mouth, her head and arm held tight, her thighs pushing together as you dominate her so effortlessly.

With Cassandra, it's often like this when she's bratty.

She'll make things difficult, as though testing you, as though checking whether you can control her, still.

You never fail to do so.

She's gasping when your hand grabs at her dress and tugs open the corset, then feels you slide the zipper down her back. When her dress falls, about to pool by her feet, she attempts to catch it. But once again you're faster, catching her wrists tightly in your hands and forcing them to stay in place.

She's shivering, though not from the cold. When you tug down her bra, too, she gasps and squirms again, as though reminded of what's happening and- more importantly- where it's happening.

But even as she begins to snarl and try to bite at you playfully- again, you know she's fully capable of doing so if she actually tried- she finds herself pushed and yanked by you, a squeal ripped from her when you shove her down on one of the flat grave covers on the ground, the cool marble biting into her strong, bare back.

"Hey!", she snarls, but is quickly reduced to a flustered mess when you move down on top of her, your knee grinding her soaked panties against her sopping wet pussy.

"Can you hear it, my little huntress?", you coo, stroking her cheeks tauntingly sweet. Your free hand slides down, tracing little circles at her hip, just where the panties sit still, covering her, while your body on top of hers does a well enough job covering her strong stomach, strong arms, and round breasts and dusty pink nipples. Ah, but from her body, there is one asset that stands out as the best, easily: her thick ass, round and firm, juicy and tight.

You'll be exposing it, along with her dusty pink, sensitive pussy, in no time.

"Can you hear the pitter patter of their hearts?", you coo, once again drawing attention to her greatest source of humiliation; not the cool marble below her bare skin, not the air and light breeze caressing her flesh. The villagers, those that fear her so, surely close enough to hear should this go on any longer.

And while you can't hear, you know she does. You know it, for her cheeks adapt a pink shade amd warmth, for she gasps and breathes a little heavier, even.

She can't help but moan and whimper when you bite down her jaw, slowly, giving her enough time to prepare herself- or try to- for the sensation of your teeth grazing her sensitive neck. She's biting her lip, trying so hard to be quiet it's almost adorable. You'll have none of it.

Instead, you move up, kneeling, your legs at her sides as you unbuckle your belt. She gives you a knowing smirk, but in her eyes, among the gold and ever growing arousal, you see the humiliation creep up on her. If only one was to look outside...she could never live it down.

And still, she finds herself too greedy to stop you, even helping you tug off your pants and underwear. When she moves in to stroke your cock, you tsk, grabbing her wrist mid-air. Your brat does always have a certain difficult understanding that there are times she has no say whatsoever...

Ah, but she loves it.

She loves how rough you are, how you squeeze her wrist until it aches, how you push her back down and roughly grab at her panties, how you give her an almost primal, feral look as you yank them off, as though offended by them. Often, when in a bratty mood like this, she insists you do all the work, if only to have some kind of counter-argument when you eventually tease her about being a slut. Now, you're not going to grant her the opportunity.

She snarls at you when you grip her hair and hip, forcing her to stay in place as you hover over her yet again. She knows perfectly well what's expected of her, of course. Alas, the brat only does the complete opposite and tries to cross her legs, laughing, certain your frustration is growing.

Now, normally, you would not expose her fully. That doesn't mean you won't do so at a special opportunity such as this one.

Cassandra gasps when you part her thighs yourself, your grip forceful, and just right, before- to her surprise, you lift her by her thighs.

She shrieks as her ass is lifted off the cool marble, her heels digging into your back as you lift her just slightly, just enough to allow you to trust into her perfectly. Just enough to take every ounce of control from her and make her feel far, far more exposed.

She's shivering and gasping, her mouth agape, her hands desperately trying to grasp onto anything. Alas, with her like this, she can't even reach your arms, can't roll her hips, can't move her legs, can't do anything but take what's given to her.

Oh, she hates it. But she loves it so, too.

"Let me down!", she snarls, but there's little heat behind her words, as you know. Instead, you continue to toy with the little brat.

She knows fully well, being a pest will not get her anywhere, now.

She knows, all it takes is to be a good girl.

She hates it. And she loves it.

"A-AH! He-a-ah-hhey!", she shrieks, her eyes suddenly wide as you thrust into her fully. You give her no time to prepare, don't start out slow, or ease yourself into her. Instead, you ram yourself inside, laughing and groaning as you feel her stretch so wonderfully around her.

You know, the pain of the stretch only adds to your bunny's humiliation and arousal, ever one for pain- receiving, and giving- after all.

She's completely lost in the pleasure, whimpering, moaning, groaning and slurring out little phrases you don't bother paying attention to. You grip at her hips, using her body as though it was nothing but your favorite toy, and she's fully aware of it.

She knows, any second a villager could step outside and see the monstrous, mighty, sadistic Cassandra Dimitrescu railed like a ragdoll, completely helpless, her eyes tearing up and pussy pulsing around the large cock filling her. Her breasts bounce with every sharp thrust into her and every yank of her hips back to yours.

You hiss, feeling her heels dig sharper into your back and shoulders, but shake your head fondly, too. With Cassandra, there is always pain. With Cassandra, you've realized certain pain is not so bad.

Her eyes slip shut for but a moment, and it's enough for you to immediately pull out of her again, your wet cock slapping against her lower stomach instead as wet slick drools from her already.

"Wha-a...", she slurs, her eyes opening once again, her pussy suddenly far, far too empty. You know, with brute railing, you won't be convincing her to behave, even as you will absolutely be doing so later on, when she has earned it, as a good girl ought to. This, however...a warning, a threat of a denied orgasm and touch...this is your impatient, needy brat's weakness, instead.

And true to this, she snarls angrily, thrusting her hips, squirming helplessly below you. From this position, she's entirely unable to control the situation, though.

She whines as your fingertip trails across her entrance, now visibly stretched and drooling slick like honey. She knows what to do, and while she does try to fight her desire off for just a few more minutes of endlessly seductive and teasing touches between her legs- never quite what she needs, nor how deep and full she needs it- she does obey.

"Please..."

A weak attempt. But you have much more time to play with her and teach her to do better.

Daniela

Daniela, Daniela, Daniela...what are you going to do with her?

A good girl on some days, certainly.

Ah, but what a damned brat the woman can be.

Rolling her eyes, touching you and herself without any thought or permission at all and, of course, without even a glimmer or shame. In the past week alone, you’ve often had to grab her wrist during dinner, if only to prevent her from sliding her greedy hand to your thigh, then the bulge in your pants.

At other times, she is set on distracting you, whining about and licking at your ear when you refuse to give her the full attention she seems to especially crave whenever you’re busy.

And, of course, her most favorite way of bratting and teasing you; using the maidens to her advantage.

Now, you sure would like to claim it doesn’t bother you in the slightest when she pushes herself up against them, fluttering her pretty, long eyelashes and giggling flirtatiously around them, all while her eyes would always flicker back to you, as though the brat wanted to make sure you’re still watching her.

And really, you’re not awful at concealing your annoyance regarding that.

No, the problem is not your so very bratty girlfriend trying to rile you up. You’ve come to expect as much when she’s in such moods. No, the problem are the maidens she uses to do this. The maidens, and how their eyes are glued to your brat the moment she steps to them. How they ogle her, suddenly bold when she seems to give them attention, unaware it’s really only to rile you up.

Their hands, setting on your girkfrind’s hips. Her grin, her eyes set on you, when she notices this. She never brushes them off, not until she’s satisfied and sure this has earned her just what she wants.

And normally, you put up with it. You put her back in her place again after, and temporarily the brat in her is tamed.

Only is she becoming more and more bratty more often.

You’ve decided: you have enough.

And now your brat will be taught a lesson she won’t forget so easily.

She follows behind you, rubbing at her eyes and looking about curiously as you guide her along. She’s fully dressed still, having caught her just before she got ready to prepare for bed, but as often her dress is tighter than usual, as though the tight corset was made for nothing than to draw attention to her large, soft chest, wide hips and slim body.

You shiver as you take in her form, feeling the familiar ache between your legs already. She knows what she does to you, but tonight, she’s about to feel it, too.

Daniela giggles when you lead her to the centre of the village, a curious scowl on her face as she takes in the statue. Wouldn’t it look so much cuter at the castle?, she can’t help but think. Perhaps she can get her mother to put it in the courtyard!

Alas, her mild curiosity turns to surprise when she suddenly feels you push up against her, one of your hands snaking up her front and grabbing her dress by its cleavage cut, the other running up her back and finding the zipper easily.

She giggles still, always one to play around. She hasn’t yet paid mind to the fact that any villager could step outside at any moment, and therefore feels almost thrilled at the thought of doing such a thing outside. She’s capable of staying quiet, anyway, she’s sure.

And still, she moans softly when you begin kneading at her chest, your hard bulge pressing into her, your fingers clasping the zipper of her dress and dragging it down teasingly.

She blushes and giggles as you undo the corset and tug down the dress, though shrieks in surprise when you push against her back next, forcing her to bend over, now grasping the statue tight.

From this angle, she spots the small houses and cabins, lights going off as though someone was alerted by her shriek and decided to try and hide away.

Wait-!

She gasps when you hook your fingers in her red panties, your hips grinding against her soft, round ass in almost animalistic fashion. She turns to you, eyes wide, but as they take you in, an eager smirk takes over instead. She's grinding back against you eagerly, already distracted again, already back to drowning in the pleasure and want she feels for you.

Then, her panties are off yet when you let them dangle by her face by your index finger and she goes to take them, you pull back. She scowls, confused, reaching out to yank them again, but once more you only move them away from her and out of her reach. You tsk at her, pushing her back into her bent over position.

Moving your body along hers, you whisper by her ear, your bulge pushing up against her bare body now.

"What do you think, Dani, should we leave these here?", you coo, biting your lip as you pull open your pants with one hand and knead at her soft thigh with the other. She frowns in confusion, whimpering softly for you.

"I'm sure they'd have a nice time with them....", you hum, laughing lowly when she squeaks, as if reminded of the villagers again. Her face is bright pink and she gasps as your hand moves from her thigh up to her ass cheek, between them, then to her pussy.

Wet- soaked, even- and all for you.

She's whimpering and moaning adorably, her lips parted as she attempts to tell you off half heartedly, insisting you can't do this with the inhabitants of the village this close, close enough she's sure they could hear her through their shut doors if she isn't careful.

Ah, but she can't help the low, breathy moans that tumble over her soft lips when you caress her between her legs, stroking her drooling pussy gently, patting and sliding your fingertip between her lips there until it rests against the hood of her sensitive clit.

When you rub it in tight circles, the cute thing squeaks again, grasping the statue automatically when her knees buckle and she arches her back for you. She whimpers as, from the corner of her eye, she sees you drop the panties on the ground, chuckling to yourself.

"Think they'll fight over them, princess? I can imagine it", you coo, leaning back over her when you manage to unzip your pants at last and tug your cock free, the thick head drooling precum against her ass cheek.

She's blushing hard, shaking her head as if trying to deny this, as if both of you don't know how needy the mere thought has her feel, how her pussy drools more and more and pulses around nothingness at the thought.

And still, her head fills with thoughts of just that, of villagers yanking at her little panties, grabbing and rubbing them between their fingers, disappearing into their houses with them tucked to their chest. She shivers, imaginging some perverted villagers holding her underwear close, their hand between their legs...

The feralness of the thought has her head spin and moan when you stroke at her sensitive clit a little more. Then, however, a loud squeak is pulled from her when your free hand comes down on her thick ass.

She squeaks again, covering her mouth with her hand as another series of spanks comes. She tries to squirm and turn, whimpering adorably for you as you turn her soft flesh into mush.

"W-Why...?", she whines, even as she knows fully well why she's treated like this, why she was bound to be punished eventually. Ah, but even as her ass stings and her golden eyes turn teary, her nipples are rock hard and her pussy drools, a line of it dripping down onto the ground between her legs already.

You chuckle, but don't bother answering the little brat.

Instead, you merely continue, your cock rock hard as you press yourself into her form. Like this, bent over and arching her back for you, hugging the structure tight, she's almost small beneath you.

You love it.

She's squealing and gasping with every slap, her eyes slipping shut and fingers lightly gripping at her face as she covers her mouth, well aware her uncontrolled yelps are surely heard by at least some of the villagers.

She shivers as you lean forwards, your tip sliding up against her soaked pussy, your wet fingers grabbing and yanking her bra away. She's completely exposed now, for you, and for anyone foolish enough to step outside. Daniela Dimitrescu, fearsome, manic, a terror in the eyes of many villagers. Now, nothing but your toy, a little brat about to be taught the ways of being a good girl.

She shrieks again when you grab at her hair, curling it around your hand and twisting it into a fist as you tug, the auburn strands now almost used like a leash to make her arch her back even more for you.

When you line yourself up with her, she's posively drooling from her pussy already, so utterly soaked you need not even think of lube. Instead, you simply thrust your cock between her soaked, pretty little folds, groaning as you feel her wetness and warmth even like this. She's trembling already, moaning muffled phrases into her hand as you rub and squeeze her round ass cheek.

It's warm beneath your touch, now, and sporting a cute, pink shade that came from the spanking. Nothing too much, nor too little, just enough for her to get properly wet and feel it for a little while longer.

She moans and whimpers adorably for you, her body rocking and arms tightening around the statue each time another slap comes down on her.

Each time you thrust forth and the tip of your dick hits her clit, she moans breathily, doing a poor job of staying quiet as she hoped to.

When you finally push yourself in, without any warning, she screams, loud, breathily, a slurred moan falling from her parted lips. You thrust immediately, tightening your grip on her hair as your other hand slides to her hip and grabs it. You yank her back with every thrust in her, deep, hard, fast, far more than your little brat is used to.

She can only moan and cry adorably for you, her legs shaking already, her pussy gripping you tight.

While she’s quite used to you by now, often bugging you to play with her almost daily, she’s still rather unused to such a fast pace and roughness.

When she attempts to stand or turn, you only grip her hip tighter, chuckling lowly behind her.

“Ah-Ah-Ah. You wanted my full attention, didn’t you, Daniela?”, you coo, your voice strained as you snap your hips against her a little harder. She’s squealing and moaning helplessly, her pussy hardly able to take all of you inside like this, stretching with every moment, each time you force more of yourself inside of her.

Her breasts bounce as her body is manhandled and her arms wrap around the statue in front of her fully, as though her shaking legs are bound to give out any moment now.

You groan behind her, your whole body feeling as though on fire.

She’s so cute like this, moaning, squealing, gasping your name so sweetly. Her ass jiggles when your front snaps against her, her soft, dark painted lips parting to let out those sensual sounds.

She’s whimpering and moaning, stuck between the pleasure she’s given and the shock of just how rough you are with her this time. She knows, this is the punishments her bratty actions have brought forth, knows she isn’t granted the sweet, passionate sex and touches she often receives from you, rather feeling you grab and pound her like a toy, her body trembling, her insides wrapped around your wet cock like a vine.

Her head lifts and back arches fully when you give her hair another tug, your legs forcing hers farther apart even as she’s shaking already.

One, two, three orgasms are ripped from the overly sensitive beat, each making her more and more sensitive in turn.

She’s shaking and shivering, moaning loudly and slurring little phrases that you’re both sure the villagers are picking up inside their homes, even as they cannot quite tell what she says.

By the end, she’s pleading and moaning adorably, stuck between asking for more still like the greedy brat she is, and begging you to slow down and take pity on her poor, sensitive pussy.

You know, your little brat will remember this.

[temeyes]

hey!! we're so back for september!! teehee~ listing's over [here!]

[vampirehunterdzine]

🫀𝔓𝔯𝔢𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔒𝔭𝔢𝔫❤️‍🔥

Oct. 12 - Nov 23

The time has come. With the talents of hunters around the globe, we bring to you the world of Vampire Hunter D in the form of a fan-made grimoire. Thank you for your unending support 🖤

https://vampiresvestige.bigcartel.com/ (International)

https://vampiresvestige.etsy.com (UK)

[late-draft]

Nothing is happening. He's nowhere. And yet there's so much traffic, people and vessels moving. Distant shouting and discussions, communicating about logistics, but there's no need for him there. So he just stares out in silence and feels the cold wind. The air is choked with the stench of diesel every day and yet sea birds fly through that filth still.

[ohheyitsjustbear]

Boy tummy featuring my ridiculously snuggly warm blanket

Treats ♡ Bear's Travel Fund

Reblogs appreciated, keep comments in the tags unless we're mutuals 🩷 (he/they)

[fellshish]

A brief history of the Arrangement told by a very normal angel? Read it here