#so glad i could manage to make some time for me to draw him :3

[westaysilly]

OFFICIAL IDOL AU HORROR DESIGN!!!

click for better quality :3

I had sm fun w it!!

idol au by @zucchiyeni

design by MEEE!!!

updated design out!!!

[lovifie]

Lift Me Off My Feet

Chapter 2: Captain’s Dinner

Masterlist

Original Thought - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11 - Part 12

Warning/Notes: Captain Price x Reader (on this chapter only, the poly 141 is still building), Oral sex (F receiver), a bit nasty

The rest of the drive goes by in a breath, suspiciously, Simon didn't step on any more bumps, and it felt like being rocking a baby. Kyle got his hand inside your shirt, but as nasty as your acts before, now his hand was just innocently caressing your back, keeping you calm and pliant against him.

At some point, the car stops and you hear Simon talk with someone outside of the car.

“Go ahead, Lieutenant.”

The car moves again but for short this time. And just after a minute or two, the car stops and Simon turns off the engine. Everyone begins to exit the car, Kyle included with you in his arms. You notice people walking around, not too close but enough to see you, and you start to feel self-aware of the fact that you are being carried like a baby by the Sergeant.

“Can you put me down? I want to walk.” You say squirming a bit in the Sergeant’s arms.

“It's faster this way actually, doll.” He responds giving you a quick smile.

“At least put me on your back, it feels weird not seeing where we going.” You say turning your head around as much as you can.

Kyle snickers, making you turn to him with your eyebrows furrowed. “Doll, I actually would be really glad if you let me carry you like this the rest of the way because like this I can hide the fact that I came on my pants like a teenager.”

“Oh.” That's all you managed to say as you feel your cheek blushing. You can definitely feel your panties sticking to your pussy, but he must definitely feel his underwear hardening.

“Soap, Ghost, we will tomorrow at 0700 for a debriefing of today's events. Go rest now. Kyle, come into my office so we can find the key and free our little birdie.” Price orders behind you, relief flowing through your veins at the thought of being free.

Kyle enters the room, Price’s office by logic, and sits you on a desk. And once you are seated, he raises his arm and crouches down getting out of the weird knot of limbs.

He stands before you, free, as you look at him dumbfounded, still cuffed.

“H-how… You could do that?!” You ask looking at him. “I thought you didn't fit, that's why you haven't got out! You could do that?!”

Kyle simply chuckles at you while he adjusts his pants quickly and drops a peck on your forehead whispering against your skin. “Sorry, luv. But it was just too comfortable.” He turns to Price, announcing he is going to take a shower and leaves the room sending you a wink right before closing the door.

You turn to Price, looking a bit shocked still and he picks the key from the drawer at his desk. “Sorry about him, he is a good lad. Hope you were not uncomfortable, right?” He asks as he walks up to you, you put your hands together expecting him to unlock the cuffs, but instead, his hands travel to the back of your tights and he picks you up forcing you to put your hands around his shoulder (almost strangling him for a second before you remember to move your hands above his head)

You let him be, too tired already to fight anymore, and he sits you on the other side of the desk. In front of his chair, once you are seated, he sits on his chair and gets between your legs.

The sight in front of you shouldn't be allowed, broad shoulders making you physically spread your legs to accommodate him, blue eyes looking up at you and warm hands picking yours. “Let's take these off, yeah?”

“Yes, please.” You whisper back, not even sure what you are begging for.

Price takes the cuffs back, furrowing when he sees the red mark where the metal dented into your soft skin. He caresses both wrists drawing circles and then one of them goes higher on your arm up to the bandages. “How's the pain?” He asks looking at your arm.

“Hm? Oh, that… honestly, I always thought bullet wounds would hurt a lot more. It's not too bad, I almost had forgotten about it.” You say smiling back at him.

He chuckles back shaking his head. “I'm definitely having you give a pep talk to the rookies. Sorry about your blouse, as well. I'll pay for a new one.” He says caressing your arm.

“Oh, there is no need, really. This is an old one, I should have thrown it out a bit ago anyway.” You admit shaking your hands to let him know there is no need.

“I insist. And if you get any medical bills, or need any physiotherapy sessions or anything. We will pay for them, we'll take care of you, doll.” He says standing up to his full height still between your legs.

“You keep saying that…”

“What do you mean?”

“That you will take care of me.”

“Yes. We will if you allow us.”

You look at his face, trying to decipher what he means. But the intensity of his gaze pulls the air out of your lungs leaving you breathless, the heat from his body is scorching against you and the ground seems so far away you feel like you falling off a cliff.

“Are you okay, doll?” He asks softly looking to meet your gaze again cupping your face.

“Yeah.” You say softly pulling his hand away and you put a hand on his chest pushing him back. “I-I should get going, I have work in the morning it's better if I get back home.”

“You can stay the night if you want, I'll drive you to work tomorrow.” He quickly responds like he doesn't want you to go.

“Capt- John.” You correct yourself earning a smile from him. “John, I need to shower, and I don't have any clean clothes, really you have done more than enough for me, I will just go home.”

You stay looking at him, waiting for him to move back so you can hop off the desk and get out. But he doesn't, instead, he gets closer and moves both hands to cup your face making you look at him. “You are thinking too hard, doll.”

And then, as natural as it is to blink, he kisses you.

A soft peck right on the corner of your mouth to test the waters, a soft peck on the other side, and then, softly, almost like melting at the touch, a kiss right to the centre of your lips.

He moves slightly back, enough to be able to speak and ask. “You solid?”

And you nod.

You are not even a hundred per cent sure you know what he means, but you know that whatever the man in front of you would ask, you would say yes.

You shouldn't, you don't know him. You only know his name and his position as Captain. You know your mind is not clear, right now he is your saviour, he is been taking care of you since you met, and he is so strong, so gentle with you, so handsome.

You shouldn't be leaning in for another kiss, but you are.

There is always tomorrow for regrets.

But tonight, all your senses scream John Price.

Never did you though a kiss could get you so hot and bothered, he only has his hands on your face and his lips on yours and you are already panting.

He moves forward, hips crashing onto yours making you gasp and he uses the opportunity to get his tongue on your mouth.

You can taste the tobacco on his tongue, swimming down your body. His hands move, taking your hair back into a ponytail and he pulls back. It stings and you groan softly, shifting to a moan when you feel his lips down your throat.

His moustache tickles the soft skin of your neck in contrast with the scorching feeling of his breath. “Who beat me to it?” He asks, chuckling drily looking at something on your neck.

Fucking Kyle.

“Better to erase it, doll.” He says, possessiveness taking over him. And there are no more soft kisses, now he makes out, no, he devours your neck like a madman. Sucking and biting, feeling the mark erupt and your panties to grow wetter.

You bite your lip to try and not make an embarrassment of yourself from how badly you want to moan, and you take his shirt out of his pants. Running your hands under the shirt, needing to feel him.

“I hope you don't mind, sweetheart. Since it is already ruined…” He trails off as he grabs your shirt over your chest and pulls, hard, pulling the buttons of the fabric and ripping it where it didn't give in.

He almost growls when he sees the skin giggle and he dives right into your chest. His hands rest on your waist pulling you forward him, pulling your shirt out of your pants.

You try to take off your jacket, but the sudden movement causes a sharp pain in your arm making you groan in pain. Price quickly detaches himself from your skin to look at your face, alarmed he hurted you. “Sorry, you alright love?” He asks feeling guilty. You shake your head, only worrying him more and then you add. “It's not you, the jacket. Got stuck on the bandages or something; can you help me, please?” He smirks mischievously at you. “Help you to undress? Oh, darling, that's my pleasure.”

He kisses you on your lips again, taking off your jacket carefully and then your shirt. He pulls your bra strap down your shoulder, leaving your bra downside, your boobs out and pushes up. He cups one of your boobs groaning on your mouth when you moan softly and then bends down to get the other one inside his mouth.

He twirls his tongue around your nipple, savouring the taste of your skin. You move your hand to the back of his head, and when he gets lower, right under your boob over your ribs, and he bites you as you pull his hair moaning his name. “John…”

“Yeah, darling, moan my name like that.” He mumbles against your skin before he goes back to your mouth. “You taste like fucking candy, sweetheart. Can't fucking wait to taste all of your.”

“Do it. Do it, please.” You say against his mouth, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Aw, darling, what a fucking sight. Asking so nicely, how can I say no?” He says between kisses as he undoes your pants.

He lifts your ass from the desk with an arm as he pulls down your pants and your underwear all together. He leaves you again on the desk and undoes the clasp of your bra taking it off. Leaving you completely bare on his desk, while he remains completely dressed. The vest is even still on.

“Fuck… I must have been a fucking saint on my last life to be worth it of this sight, angel.” He says looking up and down your body as he moves his hands from your waist up to your face to give you a kiss. “I'm gonna make you feel good, love. So, so good…” he trails off as he begins to give kisses down your jaw, neck, collarbones, sternum, tummy, and just when he is about to reach your mount. He pulls back making you whine. “Shh, pretty, just getting comfy.”

He grabs the chair from before sitting down, gets closer between your legs and pulls them over his shoulder forcing you to lean on your back using the elbow that is not hurt to prop yourself up enough to see him.

He kisses the inside of your tights, from your knee and higher, higher, higher… you can feel his beard on that soaking part of you where you need him the most. But he doesn't indulge you, instead, he goes back to your knee and high again. Teasing you, leaving you panting, aching, clenching around anything, needy, desperate.

“John… please… no more teasing…” you beg, feeling desperate for him.

“Poor baby, already soaking.” He says looking directly at your cunt, and you feel as he presses a thumb on your clit making you shudder at the feeling and he slowly moves it down your slit, reaching your dripping hole and pressing it, but without getting it inside. Just collecting your juices and driving you mad.

He takes the thumb up to his lips licking it while he looks at your eyes. “Just as I thought, fucking candy, love.” You want to complain, to grab his hair and shove his face against your cunt but the only thing that leaves your lips is a bratty whine, too horny to think straight.

You feel Price chuckle against your skin, and when you finally feel ready to tell him off, he presses his tongue flat against your clit turning your brain to absolute mush as you let go of a moan worth of a porn video as you let your head fall back.

He moves his head up and down, letting his tongue move between your folds; collecting your arousal mixing it with his spit making a mess on his beard.

His index finger moves to your entrance, slowly getting it inside stretching you slightly because of the size of his hands. He sucks at your clit, almost making out with it. And once he feels satisfied with it, he gets a second finger inside.

You keep moaning his name, like a mantra almost, not being able to remain quiet when he begins to thrust his finger in and out of your wet cunt. The sounds, the squelch, the sight, delightful.

You have been given head before, but never like this. It never had you begin for them to keep going, to not let you hanging, never this desperate. But John Price, it has you wishing you could kiss the terrorist of your neighbour just for putting you in his line of vision.

He curls his fingers inside of you pressing a point that has you falling on your back hitting your head load enough for him to chuckle against your cunt, but before he can lift his head to check on you, you just get your hand on his head keeping him in place.

Caressing his hair, spreading your legs even wider, he eats you out like a man starved. Like he hasn't eaten in days like he just found a water fountain in the middle of the desert.

You realise then, that the reason why you have never felt like this before with any ex-lover, is because you have never felt this desired. You can feel Price moaning against your cunt, and it makes you wonder who is enjoying it more.

Not for long though, because you begin to feel the knot on your stomach get tighter. More and more tight, you feel your toes curl and you close your eyes letting your mouth open as you feel the knot coming undone like an elevator free-falling. A high-pitched moan leaves your lips that in any other situation would make you feel embarrassed and your tights clasp around Price’s head when he doesn't relent on his attack.

He helps you ride out your orgasm as you cover your face with your hands, the light in the room is suddenly too bright, and after a couple of seconds, you look up at him.

And the sight…

He is sitting, leaning back against the chair, manspreading wide, an elbow resting on the armrest as he lazily licks clean the fingers that were just inside of you. Absolutely content with himself and his accomplishments, a sight absolutely devilishly delicious.

You notice the tent on his pants, and you try to touch him with your feet. But he grabs your ankle, and you don't have enough energy on you to push it.

“As much as I would like to keep going, doll.” He says letting your leg down and coming up closer to your face. “You can barely keep your eyes open, so I think it's time to rest.”

He stands up, goes somewhere behind you that you guess is the bathroom because of the sound of water and a bit later, he is back. He picks you up, and lays down on a sofa, with you on top.

A bathroom and a sofa inside of his personal office, he really is a military captain. He covers the both of you with a blanket, he gives you a kiss to the forehead and before you know it, you are out.

Post-nut clarity doesn't hit until a couple of hours later.

You are naked, in an unknown man's office, far away from home, with no phone, no keys, no money, no clothes, ashamed.

So you do the only thing you can do, you slip away from the sleeping handsome man, get dressed as fast as you can without making any noise and leave the room. You don't even bother to put on your blouse, choosing to just close your jacket.

Once outside, you let a sigh escape your lips. You know the military base, it is actually not that far away from your home, less than an hour walking back.

Are you excited about walking back home at the break of dawn alone? No. Do you have another choice? Not really, not any that would help reduce the walk of shame you found yourself doing.

So you get your hands on your pockets and start doing your half a marathon back home.

And just as the sun is beginning to pick over the horizon, you reach your home.

Just last night there were dozens of police cars, military workers, everything, the whole paraphernalia. But now? It is just dead silence, no a soul in sight, as if nothing has ever happened.

The janitor calls your name when he sees you, he gives you your keys and tells you that the police dropped them by when they cleaned everything.

You wait for the elevator and make your way up to your floor. On apartment 608, there is a police notice, banning everyone from getting close to the crime scene. There are bullet holes and some bloody handprints on the walls, a blood splutters a bit too close to the height your arm is.

You shake your head trying to forget about it, and open your door. Once inside, you lock the door and look for your phone. Only to remember that it must be in your bag, in your car, where you dropped it when you tried to run.

You look at the clock on the wall that you always forget about, and realise you have 20 minutes to get ready if you want to make it time to work. So get at it.

Most of those 20 minutes, go into taking a shower. You feel dirty, mainly because you are, but also because you feel used. You think about Price and Kyle, handsome military men, they have probably visited countries you don't even know exist and they probably have a lover in each of them.

You are probably just another one, and you let them in so easily. They must have barely felt any satisfaction from such an easy catch.

You feel like crying for being so silly, but a voice in your head stops you. The voice in your head that picks you up whenever you fuck something up. Don't cry! Why would you cry?! They used you just as much as you used them! And they are not crying! So neither are you! You made a grown man cum on his pants by rubbing yourself a bit and an even grown-er man basically get on his knees to eat you out! So don't cry!

So you get out of the shower with another attitude, you are going to get a hold of the situation, you are going to get space between these men and yourself, and you are going to be just fine!

“Son of a bitch!” You exclaim when you see yourself in the mirror, if you had thrown yourself down the stairs there would be fewer bruises on your body. Well, not bruises, hickeys.

You huff getting out of the bathroom to get dressed, and then back to the bathroom to cover all the hickeys.

By divine grace, you make on time for work. You are exhausted, starving and if any of your coworkers spoke to you today just a bit out of tone, you would chew their arms off. But luckily, everything goes right.

At least, until you get back home, and the first thing you see when you get off the elevator, is a masked man standing in front of your door.

I guess it is a series now, I don't know where I'm going with it but there is still a couple of things I have thoughts about.

If you guys have any ideas or scenarios please, tell me hehe

And if you want me to tag you on the next part drop a coment 💗

[wannabespacesmuggler]

D.D. | Shane's Girl [3]

Part Three | Masterlist | Buy me a coffee | Check out the playlist

Summary: Daryl Dixon knows he shouldn’t be thinking about you when he’s alone at night in his tent. Hell, he shouldn’t even be looking at you throughout the day. You’re not his. You’re Shane’s girl. But Daryl doesn’t like the way Shane treats you. And he certainly doesn’t like how you’re forced to play ‘loving girlfriend’ to a man with eyes for another woman at the camp.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader

Warnings: Shane Walsh sucks

Word Count: 1.5K

Author’s Note: It has once again been a hot second. I love this idea so much and want to continue it. I'm really glad that all of you seem to enjoy this little fic as well. Did anyone else watch the new Daryl Dixon show? I liked it a lot more than Dead City; however, the final episode felt super lackluster, especially with all of the build-up. Maybe that's just me. Anyway, let me know what you guys think of this one, if you want to be added to the taglist, or just want to ask me a question.

Extras: Playlist

“Like this?”

Your voice pulls Daryl out of his quiet concentration. He’d been so busy at work, sharpening the tip of the crossbow bolt in his hands, that he’d almost forgotten that you were sitting with him. Daryl’s gotten used to being alone. Hell, most of the time, being alone is better than the alternative -- being in the company of Merle Dixon. However, you are certainly nothing like Merle Dixon. 

Daryl coughs awkwardly -- trying to ground himself back in reality. It was early evening when you wandered into the Dixons’ makeshift camp. You’d finished all of your chores relatively early for the day and desperately wanted to do something instead of sitting down by the lake and gossiping with Andrea and Amy. You had attempted to find Shane, in the hope that maybe the two of you could take watch together. Since the world fell apart, you haven’t really had any time to actually talk with Shane. You can’t blame him though, his concern for Carl and Lori is admirable. And you know that if the situation were reversed, Rick would do the same and would make it his life’s mission to look out for you. You just wish your boyfriend could extend some of that comfort to you.��

That’s how you find yourself across the fire from Daryl, sharpening the crossbow bolt you made together. Daryl’s eyes shift from your face to your hands, to assess your progress. His eyes widen slightly once he notices how you’re holding the knife in your hands. You stop moving once notice the change in Daryl’s features.

“Did I do something wrong?”

Daryl watches as you physically shut down-- as if you’re preparing for him to be angry over a simple crossbow bolt. His jaw clenches at your reaction. He is angry, but not at you. No, he’s angry because he understands. He resists the urge to ask you who it was that has managed to make you feel so small and, instead, moves to the other side of the fire so that he can sit beside you.

“Nah, you didn’t do anything wrong. Just hold the knife like this, ‘lright?”

Daryl physically shows you how to hold the knife away from your body while you’re sharpening the bolt. Your eyes follow his movements for several moments before replicating them. Daryl watches you intently, nodding whenever you look over for his approval.

“Yeah, jus’ like that.”

A small smile plays at the corners of your lips at the sudden softness in Daryl’s voice. You distract yourself by watching Daryl’s careful work with the crossbow bolt in front of him. It’s obvious how much the craft means to him -- it’s quite mesmerizing to watch.

“You’re really good at this. Did your dad teach you?”

Daryl stops for just a split second and draws in a breath. He rolls his shoulders back, trying to rid himself of the thoughts that come to mind at the mention of his father. His first instinct is to lash out and shut down -- and he probably would if it were anyone else; however, you have been nothing but kind to Daryl since he and Merle arrived at the makeshift camp. The idea of chastising you for your harmless curiosity makes his stomach turn. 

Daryl clears his throat and finally releases the breath he was holding. He resumes carefully sharpening the bolt in his hands.

“I taught myself.”

You nod at his explanation, trying to ignore his change in demeanor. Just as sudden as the softness in Daryl’s features came, it is replaced by his usual indifference. It’s as if for just a split second you were able to see through the brick wall that Daryl has erected around himself. He lets his defenses down just long enough for you to see that there is warmth behind the cold front. 

“Well, it’s really impressive. I don’t know anyone else who can use a crossbow or make their own arrows.”

Daryl nods and attempts to keep a straight face, fighting off a small smile.

“It’s really not that hard. My daddy had a load of hunting gear in our garage and with Merle always getting locked up, I had a lot of time to practice.”

You resist the urge to ask him more about his past. Based on his previous reaction, you can tell that it’s not a topic he’s comfortable with. Before you can change the subject, a rustling in the surrounding woods grabs both of your attention. You freeze in place, expecting the worst; however, Daryl springs into action. He grabs his crossbow and places his body in front of yours -- in this position, he’s managed to shield you from the source of the noise.

Daryl readies his aim and you brace yourself for a potential fight; however, before he can release the trigger, you grab his arm, stopping him in his tracks. Instead of a walker, Shane and Lori emerge from the woods. The smile on Shane’s face fades into a deep scowl as he takes in the scene before him. 

“What the hell is going on here?”

His words are laced with venom as his eyes narrow at Daryl, who still hasn’t lowered the crossbow. You give Daryl’s arm a gentle squeeze, silently pleading with him to not escalate the situation. He shakes off your touch but lowers the crossbow. You move in front of Daryl, hoping to diffuse the situation.

“Relax Shane, Daryl was just showing me how to make some arrows.”

Shane ignores you completely. His eyes don’t even leave Daryl as you speak.

“I told you to stay the fuck away from her.”

His voice raises and Daryl notices how you shrink away from Shane as he takes an aggressive step forward. His eyes narrow at Shane, who continues to dismiss you. Now he knows who made you feel so small. A surge of anger rises within Daryl, along with the need to protect you -- which is quickly becoming a common feeling for him nowadays. Daryl mimics Shane’s actions, taking a step forward and sizing up the man in front of him. 

You watch the scene play out before you and before either of them can throw the first blow, you place yourself in between the two seething men. 

“I approached him. I couldn’t find you so I asked him for help, okay? Where did you go?”

Shane finally turns his attention away from Daryl and focuses on you. He places his hands on his hips as he looks down at you. Daryl’s brow furrows at the sight -- this isn’t the posture of a loving boyfriend. No, right now Shane looks like a parent scolding a child. He lets you take control of the situation; however, he anxiously observes your interaction with Shane, ready to jump in if Shane’s anger gets the better of him. 

“I was helping Lori look for Carl.”

Anger is still evident in his voice, but he seems to have settled down to a simmering rage. Daryl raises a brow at his explanation. He doesn’t say anything, but he finds it very unlikely that there would be anything less than a full search party if any of the children in camp actually went missing. Daryl shifts his gaze to Lori who is still standing on the edge of the woods. Her face is flushed, her hair is disheveled, and her clothing seems to be thrown on haphazardly. It seemed like she and Shane had gotten into some trouble out there, but neither of them have any blood on them. They both, however, are covered in dirt -- hell, Shane looks like he just rolled around the forest floor.

Oh. Oh.

Daryl looks at you, hoping you just came to the same conclusion. You know Shane is lying. In your search to find him earlier today, you noticed that Carol was watching Carl and Sophia play down by the lake. And as much as you want to call out his deception, you also don’t want to start yet another fight. 

You let out a sigh and give Shane a solemn nod. Lori uses this moment to excuse herself from the conversation -- muttering something about finishing the laundry. Shane shoots Daryl a final glare before grabbing your shoulder and pulling you away from the archer. Daryl watches you both walk away. Eventually, Shane releases his hold, leans his head down, and whispers something in your ear. You nod at whatever he says before casting your eyes toward the ground. Shane, on the other hand, stands up a bit taller at your reaction and walks off confidently. 

Daryl clenches his fists as you look in his direction. Embarrassment washes over your features once you notice that he is still watching you. Daryl frowns as you drop your head and walk off in the direction of your tent. You shouldn’t be embarrassed -- Shane should. He may have promised Shane that he’d stay away from you, but Daryl decides, at this moment, that he doesn’t give a damn. Nobody gets to treat you like that.

Taglist: @darylsl0ver@minervadashwood@hotgirlsshareaccounts@taterbbbug@dreamtofus@youcantstandit @ajlovesdilfs @prettywhenibleed @luvsvnlqt-things @evie-beanie @strnqer@marina-isabella@lissanovak@elissanatok@1tsk1tty@moejoeflow@ceoofdisappointment@jewellthebooknerd @callsignwidow @genderless-ghosty-boi

[castiwls]

I love you, period .ᐟ

Paring; art x reader

Synopsis; periods sucked. they sucked even more when your boyfriend happened to be away

Notes; writing this as i suffered from cramps was an experience (I need a boyfriend)

Masterlist

The blinking red of the clock was almost mocking. The red colour of the number is ironic almost as you lay there curled up in the only position which seemed to offer some semblance of relief from the relentless stabbing feeling in your stomach.

Art had joked once that you could open a pharmacy with the amount of medication in your drawers and you’d simply rolled your eyes before throwing your pillow at him but now you were wishing you actually did have a pharmacy in your room.

You’d tried everything. Boxes of painkillers, heat pads and hot water bottles (sometimes together), hell you’d even resorted to breathing exercises yet the pain would not pass. 

Art had called only a few hours ago - something which felt like a lifetime to you now. You were pretty sure he was spending more time on the phone with you than he was practising for the tournament he’d left go away for and the selfish part of you was glad.

Of course, he’d get dragged away to another college the weekend your body decided to turn against you. Just your luck! He’d felt bad, horrible almost when you’d called this morning almost in tears after waking up to the cramp in your stomach and the overall disgusting feeling which came with your period.

He’d almost got on the first bus back before you’d reassured him that you’d be okay. Though neither of you really believed that statement. Even three hours away he was still somehow managing to continue being overprotective and doting in a way which left a smile on your face even as you wanted the ground to swallow you whole.

“Make sure you take the painkillers on time.”

“Eat and drink so you don’t feel sick - oh I left cash in your draw for snacks!”

Words couldn’t describe how grateful you were yet as much as you enjoyed the calls you still wanted him with you. 

The red numbers flashed 3:01 am as you rolled over, wincing slightly at the movement before taking a breath. You could call him. He’d pick up you knew he would. But you also knew he had a game at the moment and the last thing you wanted was to make him too tired to play. 

Before you could stop yourself you were reaching for your phone and finding his contact. Just talking wasn't what you wanted - all you wanted was to melt into his hold and try and forget about the pain in your abdomen.

Maybe you should get one of his hoodies - scratch that you were definitely stealing one for this reason when he got back.

“Hello?” His voice was thick with sleep and a pang of guilt shot through you. You’d woken him up. “Baby? You okay?” Art sounded slightly more awake now as he heard your shaky breathing down the line. 

You silently cursed yourself as tears began to swim in your vision - your hormones really were fucked. “I shouldn’t have called.” You shook your head wiping at your eyes. Art sighed rubbing a palm over his eyes. “No. No, you’re okay. It’s okay I don’t mind.” He soothed rolling over to check the time. “I need to get up soon anyway. Needa be on the court for 5.” 

You winced slightly at the idea - you really thought he was torturing himself sometimes when it came to his training. “Have you slept at all?” 

You shook your head before remembering that he couldn’t actually see you and murmured a small. “No.”

Art sighed sitting against his headboard as he pursed his lips in thought. He had a good idea of how to get you to sleep - though it would be easier in person.

“I need you to do something for me okay?”

PAGE BREAK

You couldn’t remember falling asleep. All you knew was that one moment you were talking about your plans for the next day and Art’s match and the next moment the sun was up and the call was ended. 

The pain had subsided a little but you still felt miserable. You were sore and tired and just wanted your boyfriend back. He’d done everything he could last night even when he’d had a busy day coming up.

“I’m gonna be playing all day but I’ll call you on Sunday alright? I’ll text when I can.”

You’d texted him once to say you were feeling better but other than that you'd left him alone. You’d been enough of a pain last night and the last thing your hormone-addled brain needed was the thought that you were annoying him.

The movie you’d settled on after finding every blanket you owned and gathered all your chocolate was working slightly to distract you yet time seemed to be moving at a snail's pace. Every time you’d checked what had felt like 5 hours had max been 10 minutes and you’d long since given up hope that Art would call.

It was just you, your blankets, the hot water bottle, and all the snacks you could think of to distract yourself from the pain still stirring in your stomach and your boyfriend's absence. Falling asleep had done nothing but make you miss him even more than before.

The thought of your phone ringing was the only thing that kept you sane.

PAGE BREAK

Thump

“Shit…” 

Your eyes slowly open, and you take a moment to adjust to the darkness that is now in your dorm. When did you fall asleep and who was in your room? You frown at the wall for a moment before your eyes widen. 

You only gave one person a key to your dorm.

Faster than you’d moved all weekend you turn over a smile pulling at your lips as your eyes land on your boyfriend smiling sheepishly from by your desk. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” Art murmured kicking his tennis bag to the side.

“You're back early.” Your voice broke slightly as the onslaught of emotions you’d been holding in all week seemed to finally topple over as the relief of finally having him back hit. 

Art turned in alarm at the sound of your breath hitching his hoodie being discarded onto the floor as he moved closer to your bed. “Hey. Hey, it’s okay.” His hand smoothed down your hair a small smile pulling at his lips as he looked you over. “Why are you crying?” He couldn’t help the small laugh that seemed to escape his lips as you sat up immediately crowding into his space. 

“Missed you.” You sniffled feeling his arms wrap around you as he pulled you into his lap. “I missed you too.” He hummed rubbing a hand over your back. He’d taken the first bus back the minute his match had ended. He’d barely been able to focus on the match knowing that you’d probably been staring at your phone hiding away in your room by yourself. The idea alone made his heart hurt.

“C’mon.” Art gently shifted you back to the bed before standing. He sent you a reassuring smile before quickly stripping out of his hoodie and pants and climbing back into your bed. The moment he was in reach your fingers curled around his arm before shifting closer until you were pressed right against him.

A small sigh of contentment left your lips as you shifted slightly to lay your head on his chest, your fingers tracing shapes over his chest as you finally relaxed. “You feeling any better?” He asked after a moment. His voice was quiet as he pressed his lips to your head for a moment as his fingers ran over your shoulder.

“A little.” Your lips pressed against his shoulder for a moment as you breathed in the lingering scent of aftershave which always seemed to stick to his skin. Art’s hand travelled to your hair his fingers tangling into the strands as he left himself relax knowing that you were at least content again.

He made a mental note to go to the store first thing and buy you anything and everything you wanted as an apology for leaving you alone. 

Next time you were coming with him.

[batri-jopa]

"Currently"

Since I've already been tagged by both @figuringthengsout and @notasapleasure I should finally do something about it🫡

favorite color: recently it's yellow💛💛💛 Juicy mango type of yellow the most. Often combined with black and white because I enjoy looking like an oriole:

last song: Tina Turner - GoldenEye

last movie: Mask (1994) (and maaan how I never suspected I would look at Stanley Ipkiss as a relateable character when I grow older...😅)

currently reading: Romans na receptę - another one of few books by Monika Szwaja that my mum borrowed in our local library. I like her style and it breaks my heart that she died being only 65🥺 There's always so much hope and friendliness and support in the world that she's depicting. And, fascinating enough, there's usually AroAllo woman representation somewhere and depicted in the positive way! Of course it is not called "aromantic" by a polish writer born in 1949, more likely for the main male character to call that "AroAllo" woman character a "robot" who "uses him as as a sex toy"🤭 - BUT nevertheless even the male protagonist really likes her, appreciates her skills as loyal assistant, treats her as good friend to confess his problems to and genuinely wishes her all the luck!👍 In other books you can expect other queers occasionally too (like a teenage son who turns out to have a boyfriend), but it's always in sympathetic and realistic yet bringing-back-faith-in-humanity kind of way🫠

currently watching: umm... nothing actually (I feel like a weirdo😑 Like maybe I should start watching sth finally just so I could fill in the meme next time around? I do have a lot of series on my "to watch list")

currently craving: MANAGE TO GET SHIT DONE!💪 seriously I need either only 2 working days a week instead of 3 or... better time organisation😩 (so what that I have 4 "free" days a week now when there are emails to answer and books to read, and my pictures to make into album, and family members to visit, and all the new pictures' ideas to draw, and new tumblr posts to create, and those fic-WIPs waiting for so long already, and... I wonder if scheduling everything in precize days and hours would help me to feel more organised somehow?🤔 or only feel more remourse for not being able to follow the schedule?😑)

tea or coffee: Oh, so glad you asked! Tea please, black, strong, no sugar, no milk. Lemon appreciated but not necessarily. Thank you!🫖☕️

Tagging: @zorilleerrant , @chrisoels , @swordoftheseeker , @kaiaprax , @imaginatorofthings , @parttimereptile , @corey-m13 - some of you won't play probably so I'm just saying a friendly "hi"👋

[stormsplurge]

happy tears overflowing, lightning bolts so overwhelming

warnings: slight smut at the end, just fem receiving oral, 18+ read at your own risk

pairing(s): seth jarvis x fem! reader

inspired by anime eyes by kacey musgraves <3

1192 words

a/n: this is my first time writing x reader smut and my first time writing x reader stuff in a whiiiiile so i apologize if this is rough. regardless, i hope you enjoy!

“seth.” you said, putting down the knife you were chopping vegetables with, “i can feel your eyes staring a hole in the back of my head.”

“if you want me to stop you should try being less beautiful.” he replied.

before you could open your mouth to reply, he’d made his way across the kitchen and pulled you away from the counter. 

“seth!” you shrieked as he wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you into the air. 

you two had been spending the last week in minnesota, spending time with burnzie’s family and enjoying the last bits of summer before you had to get back to carolina. it was through burnzie, actually, that you’d met seth. he was a frequent customer at the animal shelter you worked at, eventually becoming a volunteer, and one of your friends.

you’d organized an adoption event, trying to find some of the pets forever homes and make room for new rescues, and burnzie offered to bring his “friends” as volunteers. he’d forgotten to mention those friends were a bunch of professional hockey players. 

seth had immediately caught your eye. his gap-toothed smile and infectious laughter, but also the edges of his shoulder tattoo peeking out from the edge of his t-shirt sleeves. everything about him was drawing you in, by the time he’d brought you adoption papers to sign off on you knew he’d had you.

“you’re adopting lulu?” you questioned, petting the gorgeous pitbull puppy in his arms.

“if it’s okay.” he responded, focusing his eyes away from the dog and looking into yours for approval.

“of course it’s okay” you said, “i’m so glad she’s finding her forever home. she’s been in the shelter for forever.”

“do you think i could get your number?” he quickly replied, before adding a “so i can text you if i have any questions about, yknow, lulu.”

“jarvis.” you chirped. “if you wanted my number you could have just asked, you didn’t need to adopt a puppy.”

“i know… but lulu was looking at me with her sad puppy dog eyes i couldn’t just leave her here.”

oh god, you thought. i’m fucked.

——

seth asked you out not even a week later.

he’d managed to get his hands on your work schedule and sent a flower every hour, all eight hours you were all at work. at first it was a daisy, with a note attached with only the word “go” you on it. next came a lily, with a note saying “out”. eventually leaving you with eight different flowers spelling out “go out with me please, love seth.” and a mystery address attached to the final one.

everything about the date was perfect, he’d found a secluded park where you wouldn’t be bothered by anybody and set up a picnic. every snack you’d offhandedly mentioned while you two had been texting, all of your favorite foods, everything you could think of was laid out on the blanket.

“oh seth…” you marveled. “you didn’t have to do this all for me.”

“of course i did.” he said, matter of factly. “my mom raised me to never half-ass anything, especially when it comes to a beautiful woman.”

“how’d you even think of this.”

“well burnzie mentioned that you’d been stressed out at work, and aho told me his girlfriend thinks this park is really romantic. so, yeah.”

“i love it.” you said, placing your hand on top of his, where it sat resting on his thigh. “thank you.”

——

from there the rest was history, the last year you’d spent with seth had been some of the best of your life. every minute of your day was filled with love, from lulu’s morning kisses to the daily texts you would get from jarvy as soon as practice was over. everything about it was perfect. 

“seth.” you said as he gently placed you on the counter. “i love you.”

“i know.” he mused, tilting your chin up and placing a kiss on your lips. 

“we shouldn’t be doing this here.” you whispered as his lips trailed over your jaw and onto your neck. “anyone could walk in at any second.”

“they wont be back for another couple of hours, i promise.” he replied as he placed his hands under your thighs and picked you up. you looped your arms around his neck, letting him carry you into the guestroom. 

the kisses were unrelenting at this point. your neck, your collarbones, the spot above your belly button. slowly making his way down to the edge of your shorts. 

“can i?” he asked, waiting for a yes to leave your lips before hooking his finger under the waistband and pulling the fabric down. the energy in the room had quickly turned from comforting to intense, seth’s eyes focusing exclusively on you. 

“you are so beautiful.” he breathes out between kisses, letting the stubble on his cheeks scratch against your inner thighs. 

“you don’t have to keep saying that.” you reply as he brings his tongue to your pussy.

seth aproached sex the same way he did hockey. making every second count, every move having an end goal. on the ice this meant helping his team and scoring goals, and in the bedroom it meant making sure you always felt good. 

you moaned his name as he inched his middle finger farther into you, bringing your hands to his hair and wrapping your fingers in the slight curls that formed at the nape of his neck. 

“you should, ah-, shave the sides again.” you whined, twitching with every slight movement he made. 

“bring back the mullet?” he chuckled, pushing his ring finger in as he spoke. “what about racing stripes should i do those too?”

a yes slipped out of your lips, followed quickly by seth pumping his fingers in and out of you at a desperate pace. his mouth made it’s way to your core as you felt yourself begin to unravel, rapidly reaching your peak.

“seth.” you moaned, throwing your head back. “i’m so close.”

“i know baby, you’re doing so good for me.” 

you were seeing stars, forgetting that you were in someone else’s house, panting and moaning and whining as loud as you could. the pressure in-between your legs growing until you couldn’t take it anymore, coming with seths name on your lips and his head in between your legs.

he was grinning at you from the edge of the bed, already back to his giggly self.

“i love you so much.” he said, making his way up the bed and tucking your hair between your ear.

you shushed him as you brought your hands to his cheeks and pulled him into a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue. if it were any other day you’d happily go for another round, but the sun was getting to you so you just rolled seth onto his side and burrowed yourself in his chest. the smell of sweat and deodorant pulling you into him. as you felt your eyes begin to grow heavier you felt him drape a blanket over the two of you.

“i love you too.” 

[hplonesomeart]

Hey!! So turns out a video I made between a certain “well beloved but highly sensitive/emotionally reactive T.V” and an “orange haired inkling-turned-human” has managed to sweep my YouTube channel and accumulate 100k VIEWS!! THAT’S A LOT OF PEOPLE ACTUALLY?? My most widely viewed video EVER to exist in this moment in time?? AAAAA?? Not even mentioning the various comments and staggering increase in subs! It’s so much more then what I expected or even prepared for—might even be the most impactful thing to happen for me this year <3

…aside from graduating high school + the social connections I’ve been fortunate to make lol

BUT THE POINT IS I’d been closely monitoring the YouTube growth through the entirety of October. It’s make me smile like a dork, gawk in astonishment, dance frantically in my room from the energy boosts, and grow courage to stop being so selective/self-conscious with what I wish to share with the world! It’s kept my ambitions going!

I needed to find some way to celebrate the occasion and express my thanks—because I can’t NOT acknowledge this milestone jksjskp. Typically I try to avoid getting tunnel visioned focusing on the metrics/numbers. Mr. Puzzles had already demonstrated how much those things can mess with the minds of creatives. Caring too much about chasing views or placing your artistic value in attention seeking gets damaging. But at same time…it’s hard to deny the sense of pride the 100k achievement has filled me with. I understand that reaching 100k views doesn’t immediately make me any “better” or “worse” then I was before. I’m still just me! It only helps me feel seen by others—and that’s all I really needed. To hear some nice words & receive reminders that my ideas are cared about. So thank you SMG4 fandom for that, seriously thank you.

Please accept this Mr. Puzzle drawing as a way of sharing the happiness around. He’s so entertaining. Love him for simply existing. So glad we can all collectively be super attached to him (and the rest of the SMG4 cast of course). Can’t wait to see more incredible artworks from the fandom :)

Just incase anyone is confused by my vague description over which “animated video” I’m referring to here—hopefully this photo will help clarify lol. It’s this one!! Sorry about not outright stating the title at the start, I got carried away with writing!!

I’ve been in an odd place mentally when thinking about it. Wondering to myself if any of the attention is deserved considering it’s not even fully colored and could be dismissed as “low effort” content (despite taking several days making it). It’s easy to get into a trap of comparing yourself to others and questioning how much of the videos success is based on your skills, sheer algorithm luck, or only because you used popular characters and catered to a specific fandom. And then judging yourself by looking at other peoples videos. I’ve seen several artists post higher quality works then my own but it somehow gets less views. So why did mine succeed when others (who should have gotten just as much attention if not more) didn’t? Sometimes you feel like you’ve unfairly robbed them of that chance to be seen. However I’ve realized that I can’t ever expect views to be consistent—and comparing is pointless. So why worry about it or feel inadequate? I mean it’s pretty common for funny cat videos to go viral, so who am I to question the system lol. “Popular” YouTube videos can range from a passion project which took 7+ artists…to a clip of Toad singing Chandelier or a nonsensical Vine sketch. Anything can happen when it’s the internet! And just-so-happened my video was chosen. I should stay glad about that and get rid of all the overanalyzing. So that’s what I’ve chosen to do :)

[shewolfofvilnius]

There is a huge part of me that is curious about dragon age because I love BG3 so much. But idk anything about it? Also none of the characters strike me as interesting (or attractive....) Maybe you could tell me what you like so much about ? maybe talk about the characters so I can give it a chance? I want to like it! but I just don't know!

I DIDN'T FORGET

So for me the first draw of Dragon Age is the incredible lore and worldbuilding that goes on in the games and books. It's arguably just as fleshed out as a setting like the Forgotten Realms despite just being three (soon four) video games and about a dozen books/comics. There's centuries of history. Ancient ruins. Environmental storytelling for days. A little visual cue in the first game that's referenced in optional banter in the third that pays off in the fourth (FIFTEEN years apart). I really appreciate that the first game, Dragon Age: Origins, only exposes you to part of the story. The game's set in a pestilence known as the Fifth Blight, and you're the plucky young adventurer that the grizzled old veteran manages to recruit out of a bad situation just before the end. And you and your friends are all that stand between victory and oblivion. But right off the bat there's storytelling about love and loss and prejudice and honor. There's a noble character who dies, leading to a coward being killed as the stakes are built. (There's also a dog you can pet, and moments to show kindness during armageddon, like a prisoner who just wants a sandwich before he dies, he hasn't been fed.)

And the banter is funny (if some of it's aged a bit unwell), and the gameplay really encourages you to get in the head of whatever character you want to build. Yes you can be the cliche prince charming. You can also be the sibling of a prostitute to pay the bills until your sister lands a high profile john who catches feels for her. From the start it's equal measures hopeful and bleak at the same time. (And as you invest in YOUR character emotionally, you inevitably emotionally invest in your companions too.) And gradually the world gets bigger. A character whose town you watch get destroyed becomes the protagonist of the second game, and they hook you in to. They're a refugee, a very timely story, and if they're a magic user, then they're an especially persecuted refugee. But you still make friends amidst the hopelessness. More of the world gets revealed. You have FUN, somehow. Characters from past games recur, either as cameos or in one very specific case as a high profile recurring character in 3 out of the 4. And you become so glad to see them as they represent continuity of story.

It's a game about family and faith and the lack thereof and prejudice and love and how one counters the other, about how persecuted people often pay the price of things that happened before their ancestors' ancestors were born, and that tomorrow should always be better than today.

That's thematic, though. Maybe you take a shine to Isabela the Pirate and Aveline the Guard Captain (maybe Merrill the blood mage elf, too). The three women basically form one of the best depictions of big/middle/little sister trios I've ever seen in a game. What starts out as cold hostility becomes banterful compassion and love. A lot of folks fell for Solas, an elven apostate whose every word is couched in three mysteries and two half-truths but seems to know way more than he's letting on. When you find out a horrible secret about the honourable Grey Warden Blackwall, do you leave him to his fate, try to redeem him, deliver a sufficient consequence, or outright torture him.

And you won't like everyone. The odds of you liking both the spirit-possessed mage Anders and the anti-magic elf Fenris in the same play of the same game are low unless you metagame it. And sometimes the games even rewards you for someone hating your ass or vice versa, and THAT'S organic. But being mean or having a negative interaction isn't some edgelord thing either, it's just "sometimes people don't get along" or "something you just need to punch someone"

You get to laugh at the tough stern warrior Cassandra getting absolutely beside herself wanting to know what happens in a book that it's writer, another of your companions, hated writing - and that even Cass herself calls smutty literature. Another character, The Iron Bull, is faced with a choice: His found family and the freedom to be who he's become, or the belief system he's known his entire life and that expects him to conform.

Does your character sacrifice? Does your character make the streets run red with blood? Is all you want to make people feel inspired and in something bigger than themselves? Even playing three (soon four) wholly new characters, you get to truly role-play and emotionally invest in these little blorbos, maybe even more strongly in Baldur's Gate. When a character returns you weren't expecting, is it joyful or melancholy? Can your character handle a confrontation of everything they've ever known.

And in the newest game, there's a baby griffon.

I love Dragon Age. The lore is expansive beyond sanity for a franchise with it's commercial output. The characters feel alive, and the game tasks you to emotionally invest in order to reap the maximum reward and suffer the strongest heartache. Plus, in many cases, when the game doesn't tell you, say about your character? You get to roleplay and use your imagination so, so strongly.

[witch-off]

“How to heal a broken bone.”

SPOILERS FOR THE BAD BATCH S2

Rating: Explicit +18

Pairing: Tech x (F)Reader

Synopsis: Tech is very frustraded after breaking his femur, to say the least. He can’t go on missions. He can't fix his ship. He can't even walk straight with crutches. Luckily you are there to help him.

Warnings: Established relationship, poly relationship with the rest of the Batch, a little bit of angst, smut, fingering (female receiving) and oral sex(male receiving).

You hear Tech sigh for the 10th time. Or maybe it was the 15th time. You were already losing count.

Your eyes move from your current task to Tech sitting in the pilot's chair. He seemed bored while staring at his datapad, which was something unusual. "Bored" was one of the last words you would use to describe him. He always seemed to be involved in some research or working on something with his hands. But now he was navigating through files in a distracted way in search of some interesting information.

The culprit of this situation was the cast that went from his foot to half of his left thigh. Luckily, the fracture in the femur wasn’t serious, it would take 3 months for him to recover, but with the help of AZI and a lot of bacta Tech would be back much sooner. Unfortunately, this also meant that he couldn’t go on missions for quite a while.

The others had left early to explore for supplies, but you had chosen to stay and make some improvements to the ship. But it was an obvious excuse to stay with Tech and take care of him. You hated the idea of leaving him alone, especially in these conditions.

Tech lets another frustrated sigh escape and you can't help but copy him.

"Do you need anything, darling?" You ask from your place on the floor where you been fixing some wires on the wall.

"I don't think you can fix my leg. So no, thank you." He answers without even looking away from the datapad.

"Watch your tone, Mister. I know you're upset, but it's no reason to talk to me like that." You use a warning tone and Tech quickly turns to you with a guilty expression.

"My apologies, dear." He says in a softer voice this time. That’s more like it."I didn't mean to sound so rude. It's just that I'm so..."

"Bored?" You suggest.

"Frustrated. But ‘bored’ also works."

You shake your head slightly, getting up to go to him. Tech's mind it’s never quiet, it wasn't a surprise that he was so antsy. His good leg kept bouncing up and down nonstop while he was reading. You were afraid that at any moment he was going to snap and rip out his own cast.

You put one hand on your waist, using your other forearm to prop yourself against his chair to get a good look at what he was reading. From this angle you can finally see that It was a medical article about the speed of regeneration of a broken femur. You couldn't blame him for his impatience.

Luckily, the Batch managed to find a pair of crutches for Tech, but he could barely get around with it. So most of the time Wrecker helped him move around the ship. Tech also needed help when it came to showering and getting dressed, and as happy as you were to help him, having your independence taken away is something horrible.

"I should be out there helping or at least doing something useful. But I'm here, being a dead weight for the team." He complains, letting his body sink against the chair.

You frown, tugging slightly at his ear. Tech does a little “ouch” sound and rubs the bruised skin with his hand. "You know that's not true. Everyone's glad you're okay. I'm glad you're okay. We just want you to rest now."

The proof of your words was right there. His leg was on a small stool, resting on a pillow that was given by Omega as a way to make him more comfortable. The whole Batch wanted to sign his cast - Even Cid wanted to be a part of it. Omega's name had little stars doodles. Wrecker's was the one that occupied the largest space with an imitation of an explosion around it. Hunter's was accompanied by a small drawing of a skull while Echo's was only his name written in blue. And of course, yours was accompanied by hearts.

He sighs, nodding with his head. "You're right. It's just that this reminds me of Kamino. Clones that didn't heal fast enough were sent to maintenance work or just... decommissioned.”

You can feel the weight in his words. You can't even imagine what it's like to be discarded so easily. Clones were considered replaceable, so it was likely that several of them were thrown away just because the Kaminoans didn’t have the patience or empathy at all.

"Well, this isn't Kamino. You have all the time you need to recover, we'll still be here when you’re done." You pass your fingers through Tech's hair, feeling him relax with your touch.

"Thank you." He gives you a small smile, closing his eyes for a moment and breathing deeply as your hands continue to caress him.

"At least I'm here to keep you company." You say. "I can take a break for now. We can play Sabacc, what do you think?"

He seems to consider your proposal, but he gives up quickly. “I've played 5 times with Wrecker. And 4 of Denjarik with Omega. I still don't know how she always manages to win." The last part was definitely a blow to his ego. "Besides, I want to do something with my hands. Something constructive."

"Well, I can’t carry you around like Wrecker. But maybe I can bring you something to work on?"

"No, stay here. Please." Tech tilts his head back, staring at you with his big brown eyes behind his lenses. His hand pulls the hem off your blouse gently, making a silent request.

You could never say no to him.

You lean towards him until your lips met. The angle is a bit awkward, but the kiss is deep and sweet. He lets a deep sound slip from the back of his throat, something needy for more. You need to hear it again.

One of your hands holds the back of the seat to keep you balanced, while the other goes to his face, stroking his cheek with your thumb. This time it’s you who let out a low moan as his tongue invades your mouth, exploring it eagerly.

A shiver runs through your body as Tech partially lifts your blouse, the cold air of the ship hitting the skin of your belly. But soon his warm hands are on you, grabbing everything they can reach. His calloused fingers sending shockwaves through your nerves.

You feel them creeping up your ribs, coming too close to your chest and you know where this is going. You hold his wrists, moving his hands away from you. You already miss them. "Hold on, baby." You sigh. "You're still hurt."

"But it's been so long since we've done anything." He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, raising his forefinger in the same way when he’s about to explain something. "Exactly 3 weeks, 4 days and 16 hours."

You roll your eyes without being able to contain a smile. But it was true, it's been a long time. Between missions and taking care of Omega there was not much time left and no privacy to do something more intimate.

You stare at the cockpit door, mulling over what to do next. You probably had a few more hours alone, and the Batch used to let you know when they were on their way back.

"All right, but we need to be quick. What do you want to do, pretty boy?"

His face lights up, as it always does when he gets something he wants. "On the control panel, I want to touch you."

You chuckle, starting to take off your clothes with the confidence of someone who has undressed more than once in the cockpit. "So when you said you wanted to do something with your hands you were talking about me?”

You lean against the control panel, just in your underwear, feeling the icy metal bite your backside. You put one leg on his lap so he had better view, being mindful of his cast. He can’t turn fully in your direction because his extended leg, but it is good enough. "I'd rather do you than anything in the galaxy."

You hate how flushed you get just from that. You're still not used to this kind of sweet talk and how it makes your insides turn. "Really smooth." You mock him, pushing him slightly on the shoulder."Come on, I'm freezing here."

Tech fix his goggles once more, giving you a mischievous smile before starting. His palm moves slowly along your calf to your thigh , blooming chills along it’s path. He stops when his fingers bump against your panties, toying with the hem.

"I missed that." Tech whispers, leaning over to kiss the inside of your leg. "I missed you."

"You see me every day." You try to joke, but your voice gets breathless when his fingers start approaching your core.

"You know what I meant."

"I don't know if I quite follow. Can you show me?" You bite your lip, giving him a playfully look.

You can see the desire burning in his eyes. The way his pupils are dilated behind his lenses. How heavy his breathing gets. Tech doesn't bother to pull your panties to the side, his thumb stimulating your clit over the fabric while his other fingers cupped your vulva.

You moan softly, your hips moving in sync with his hand, searching more for that feeling. But it's just enough to keep you on edge. It's not what you need to scratch that itch.

"Tech, come on." You pull the last part with a whimper, to close to begging already."Give me more." It’s really been a while, you didn’t notice how needy you were until now.

"I enjoy taking my time, dear. You know this better than anyone." He says while applying a little more pressure to your throbbing clit.

You let out a breathless laugh that quickly becomes a moan. "I think what you enjoy is to torture me."

Tech doesn’t deny it, only giving you a small smirk. But he finally gives in to your pleas, his fingers entering your panties and stroking your folds.

"You're soaking wet." He says the obvious with a smug look.

The answer on the tip of your tongue disappears when he penetrates you with one finger. You let out a silent scream, holding his arm to ground yourself. Tech begins to move it slowly, letting you get used to the stretch. But it’s not enough and soon you’re begging again.

The second digit comes shortly after, throwing you in the borderline between pleasure and pain. Tech watches you closely in the same way he does his experiments. You can't help how even your ears get warm under his insistent gaze.

You feel your leg start shaking, trying it’s best to keep you standing while holding your weight on it’s own. Your free hand grab the edge of the control panel, stopping you from falling.

Tech rotates his hand, causing his thumb to brush against your clit every time this fingers thrusted deeper, hitting your spongy spot. The wet sound of skin against skin fills the cockpit, being only overcome by your loud moans.

“Take off your bra. I want to see you.” You think you would do anything he asked as long he didn’t stop.

With one shaky hand you pull up your bra, your tits jumping out of its confinement. Tech watch hungrily as your breasts bounce with each movement. He lick his lips before giving the next order. “Now touch yourself.”

You do as you’re told, pinching your already hard nipple. You decide to give Tech a good show, since you knew he liked to give extra attention to them during sex. You pant softly, sweat running down you temples as you pull and pinch your nipples before soothing the tender skin.

You stare at Tech's parted lips in a greedy way. You wanted to ravish them, to kiss him until you two were out of breath. But the angle didn't allow that at the moment. You're content with his fingers moving inside you for now. More than content actually.

"Are you close, dear?" You can hear his voice through the hum of your ears, nodding your head weakly. "Good. Just relax and come for me."

That definitely wouldn't be a problem for you. You chant his name while your orgasm is ripped from you, making your legs tremble with the intensity. Tech continues with the deep thrusts, prolonging your high until you’re too sensitive. Your head falls back as your chest rose with every breath.

You put your other feet on the ground for balance, both still fragile with the aftershocks. Your heart melts a little inside your chest when you realize the way Tech looks at you. Like you're the most amazing thing he's ever seen.

"You're beautiful." He mumbles.

You cover your face with a grunt. "You can't say that kind of thing while you have two fingers inside me."

"Oh, my apologies." He finally seems to realize that he's still deep inside you, pulling his fingers out slowly. You hiss softly, felling empty all of a sudden."I must say, it definitely helped me get less anxious." Tech says while analyzing your juices in between his digits.

You shake your head at him. Tech was sometimes unbelievable.

Your back complains about being in so many strange positions for so long, but you don't hesitate to duck your head to capture his lips again. Tech looks surprised, but returns the kiss quickly, pulling you to him.

You squeeze him over his pants, making him moan against your mouth. You could feel the hard line of his cock against your palm, applying a little more pressure to hear his desperate groans. Unconsciously, Tech tries to move his hips against your hand, causing a painful grunt from him.

Your eyes widen and you stop immediately. "Are you okay?" You'd hate to have to explain to Hunter that Tech got more hurt during sex. That you shouldn’t be having… because his femur is broken. Kriff.

"I'm alright, don't worry. I just moved my thigh in the wrong way." He tries to pull you for another kiss, but you push him gently against the chair.

“Relax, pretty boy. I will be taking it from here.”

You push away his good leg just enough to get in between them. The ground is cold against your knees, but you're more focused on what comes next. Tech watched you closely as you unzip his pants, pulling his cock out. He was throbbing in your hand, a drop of precum dripping down his head.

You always though Tech had a nice dick. It wasn’t very thick like Hunter or Wrecker, but it was quite long. He always managed to reach that sweet spot inside you that drive you crazy. You almost want to try to ride him, but you couldn’t risk hurting Tech or broking his cast. So that was a idea for another time.

Your fingers close around the base of his cock, letting your breath ghost along his shaft. Tech whines with the tease, pushing his hips in your direction.

You place a hand on his waist to keep him in place. “Stay still for me, love. I don’t want you getting hurt.” He just nods in agreement, desperate for you to continue.

Oh, but you don’t have the heart to tease him for too long. He has been so good to you. You want to give him whatever he asks for.

You stroke him a few times, his cock craving for the attention. You lap at him, taking your time as your tongue explore him slowly. You stare at him, drinking from every sweet expression of pleasure on his face.

Your lips wrap the head of his cock, felling his taste invading your mouth. You start bobbing your head up and down, going deeper each time.

Tech places a hand on your nape, not forcing you down, only resting in there.

You love how vocal he his during sex, but in moments like this, when your mouth is around him, Tech can hardly form a word to save his live. Just letting out broken praises and little pleas. It’s like song to your ears.

This time, it's his moans that reverberate through the walls. You want to smile satisfied with yourself when you hear his little whines every time you suck a bit harder, but that would mean having to take your mouth off Tech, and you wouldn't allow that.

When he hits the back of your throat Tech starts speaking gibberish.“If you keep it up like this I’m going t- Oh maker.” You take him deeper, hollowing your cheeks. His face scrunching in pleasure.“Please, it’s been a while, I c-can’t.”

"I don't want you to hold back, love." You stop for a moment to catch your breath, but keep stroking him with your hand. You fold his balls with the other and it’s cute how hard he’s trying not to move his hips. Without any warning, you go down on him again, leaving Tech in a speechless mess.

Tech gives a weak moan before coming, filling your mouth with hot strings of cum. You close your eyes, savoring his musky taste. You keep milking him until he's totally spent, humming around him before removing his soft cock from your mouth.

You make sure he’s watching while you swallow and lick your lips. You rest your head against his thigh, smiling sweetly at him.

"Feeling more relaxed now?"

He strokes your head, letting out a deep breath. "Oh, Yes. Definitely. Thank you, dear.”

“You know I’m always happy to help.” You rise from the floor, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Do you think you'll be okay while I go take a shower?"

He nods, eyes half closed. “Yes, I will be here waiting for you.” His voice is sleepy and you can see how hard he’s trying not to fall asleep.

You give him a sympathy look, petting his hair. “Go take a nap, I will be back in a minute.”

You have enough time to clean up and finish fixing the ship. No one suspects anything when they return with a crate full of supplies. Well, except Hunter, who gave you a quick side eye.

But you couldn't help but realize that for the rest of the day Tech didn't sigh or bounce his leg, not even once. Maybe you found the cure for his agitation after all.

[karereiko]

Moriarty Xmas everyone! Dark Santas are in town!

I'm so glad that somehow I managed to finish it on time. Last weeks were awful for me, so many live problems with my cats health and work and that I was so exhausted, yet I really wanted to draw those Dark Santa Moriarty brothers because I had this idea for few months by now. And that joke with Sherly in my head born while drawing it, I'm glad I could draw it too and it didn't stay only an idea (like I had idea for some flirty sherliam after story to that Halloween art but had no time to draw it). I went with some chibi style drawing because I really wanted to do it quick, it suppose to be more sketchy style but I yet can draw nice looking sketch only picture.

Anyway back to additional info about pictures.

Moriarty Santa brothers, I wanted to make them dark Santas so I went with black in place of white fur. I also thought about Albert and Louis costumes be whole in their colors first, but I settled with only elements being in Albert's green and Louis blue for them and I think this looks very good in the end. I had to put wine with cookie for Albert, he leaves milk for his brothers. And each of brothers have holy that also has 3 brothers colors to show their bond.

Mini comic add:

Sherly has 1/3 chance to pull Liam Santa, he even put Math book to rise his chances. Let's wish him to pull William, not Louis.

For next you probably see here is finished felted Miss Hudson, and felting tutorial. After watching Morimu op3 commentary I got silly Sherliam idea, I don't know how it will end, but I really wanna to draw it... I just wish for more time T_T....

[mentalbreakdowngobrrrrr]

Milo w/ Champion f! s/o

fluff; Milo with a super strong f! s/o who's the champion

Hop, M/c and the others r aged up to 20, Milo 22

Proud bf frfr.

Every single match you've ever fought in he has watched, cheering you on with a big goofy grin

"THAT'S MY GIRLFRIEND!! OMG THATS MY GIRLFRIEND!"

Big strong lad likes strong lass.

You are a workaholic and rarely slow down.

"Have you eaten yet?" "......Oops."

I headcannon this man is malewife material and is a beast in the kitchen. He makes the best apple curry frfr.

All your Pokémon love him! even your VERY protective Cinderace.

Firm believer he falls hard and fast

Milo sat in the stands of the stadium, eyes trained onto the field where the familiar shape of his girlfriend's body and the body of your long-time rival, Hop.

Despite Hop deciding to go down the path of a professor, you and him decided to have a friendly battle just like the old days.

You had became the champion at the age of 18, overthrowing Leon when he was 21.

Milo still fondly remembers the first time he interacted with you. (Even if the very first interaction was a Wooloo smacking into you) He remembers watching in anticipation as you took on his gym challenge. He had just lost against the champion's brother, so he was intrigued by the other challenger endorsed by Leon.

You seemed to have a special way with the Wooloo. What normally was a chaotic task was turned into a quick, streamlined one as you expertly guided the Wooloo into the pen, decimating his trainers. Of course, their grass types were no match for your Raboot.

When you reached him, he was able to see your bond with your Pokémon first hand, and he instantly gained a small crush. Your team at the time was only two Pokémon, which was a pretty small team, but they were both incredibly well trained. The grass type trainer could tell you cared more about quality over quantity.

Sadly, in his gym match against you, he stood no chance. He wasn't even able to land a single hit on your Raboot, let alone see the next member of your team. You wiped out his Pokémon in one hit. You didn't even have to Dynamax.

Of course, when you had such a strong bond with a Pokémon you are almost unbeatable. You and your Raboot were in perfect sync, you barely even had to direct her on what to do, when you did, she followed your orders with full trust.

After his crushing defeat, he approached you offering his gym badge, and some advice on where to next.

Since you had peaked his interest, he watched all your matches, watching as you took down his friends without drawing out a second Pokémon. Even Nessa with her water types stood no chance against the powerhouse fire type.

By Kabu's gym you had 3 Pokémon now, the last two still a mystery. Your Raboot evolved into a Cinderace, and the affects of the pyro ball were devastating on Kabu.

It wasn't until your fight with Opal that he was able to cross you again. This was also the first match where he was able to see another one of your Pokémon (by then you had 5). Upon the start of the battle, he prepared himself to see your Cinderace take the field. Instead a Toxapex appeared. Using the poison type advantage you wiped Opal with her only managing to land 2 hits.

He had been in Ballonlea on gym-leader business, but decided he had time to watch your match. "It's good to finally see another one of your Pokémon." he commented with a smile as he aproached you outside the gym.

"Milo?"

"Great job on the match, I was in town and decided to check it out. Your bond with your Pokémon amazes me as always."

"What do you mean as always? You've only seen me battle once?" You asked, tilting your head.

"Ah- Well, you see, it's. uh. Well, It's rare to see a trainer who has such a uhm strong bond with their Pokémon, so I just uh- wanted to see more of your matches. I- uh have really enjoyed watching your bond with Cinderace grow." he mumbled, turning bright red, and averting his eyes to the ground.

"Aww, that's so sweet. I'm glad you like watching my matches so much. Do you want to meet the full team?"

"Can I?"

"Sure, just don't go around telling everyone my team. I've been keeping them a secret to prepare for Leon." You winked at him, holding a finger to your lips, causing him to blush.

"I-I promise!" He squeaked, excited to see your Pokémon.

"Come on out guys!" You threw your pokeballs into the air. Cinderace and Toxapex were the pokemon he knew about, however a Mimikyu, Appletun, and a Shuckle were the remaing 3 team members.

Upon being released, the pokemon let out delighted cries and immediately ran up to you for pets, all letting out of noises of content as they snuggled up with you.

It wasn't until Milo gasped that their attention was snatched away. your Appletun and Shuckle approached the man in curiosity, while Mimikyu and Toxapex stayed by you. Cinderace glared at him, her arms crossed as she loomed next to you.

"Carnelian, it's okay, Milo's nice. Plus even if he wasn't, you could take him easily." You sent him a look that told him to play along.

"Haha yeah. I stood no chance against you when you were a Raboot, no way I'd stand a chance now." He rubbed the back of his head, while the rabbit stuck her chest out in pride.

"Now, why don't you go play with Aquamarine and Onyx?" The rabbit pokemon nodded and hopped over to play with the water and ghost types.

Turning to Milo you sent him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Carnelian and I have been through a lot together, so she's super protective. She doesn't like anyone getting near me, let alone men. The only way to ease her up is if she knows she's stronger."

"It's ok, I get it. Plus it's not like I was lying. Even without the type advantage, your bond is unbeatable."

"Yeah, I suppose it is." A small smile came to your face as you reflected on all your memories with your pokemon. "Anyways, now that you've seen my secret, you owe me a date."

The gentle giant exploded into red. "I-I What? I'm flattered I really am, but I'm sure you have much better things to do than spend time with someone like me."

"Hmm, sure I do, but I think you're super cute and want to get to know you more. How about you accompany me to Circhester?"

"I do have to head there next..." he mumbled. "Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all. Traveling with company is always more fun, plus I meant what I said about wanting to get to know you better."

"O-Okay" He flushed as you grabbed his hand and pulled him into Route 8.

The 3 days he spent traveling with you allowed the two of you to grow close enough to start dating.

He watched in person as you crushed Gordie, but sadly could not attend your fight with Piers in person as he had to return to his gym.

"I promise I will be watching from home and cheering you on. Win for me ok?" he brought a hand down to rest on your head.

"I promise. Knowing you're cheering me on will make me win!" With a smile, you leaned up and gave him a small peck on the lips, which caused him to short circuit. "I'll see you at the champion cup!" With a wink, you ran off towards your next gym.

The day of the Champion cup comes, and as expected you destroy the semifinals with the new addition to your team, Morpeko. Marnie nor Hop stands a chance.

Before you can continue on to defeat Leon, you are interrupted by Chairman Rose and the whole Eternatus thing. Leading you and Hop to return to the slumbering weald to get the help of the legendary pokemon.

Finally after the match being pushed back two days, you were able to fight Leon. You did not breeze through this fight as quickly, struggling with his Inteleon and of course his partner, Charizard, but with the help of Carnelian, you and best friend defeated Leon and became the new champions.

As soon as the match was over, Milo had already scooped you up off the ground and was twirling you around. "YES! I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! EVER SINCE YOU FIRST TOOK ON MY GYM I KNEW YOU WERE GONNA DO GREAT!"

Letting out a giggle a brilliant smile crossed your face. "I can't believe we did it!"

Back to the current battle, as expected you wiped the floor with Hop, just as you had done every time before. The male only laughed, exclaiming that it was good to battle you again.

After exchanging a hug, you turned to your boyfriend who was waiting with the dumbest grin on his face.

Upon seeing he had your attention, he slowly got down on one knee, eyes filled with love. "(Name), ever since I first saw your incredible bond with your pokemon, I have been smitten. I have watched proudly as you overcame every single challenge thrown your way and saved our region. I have been lucky enough to call myself your boyfriend, but would you let me be even luckier and call myself your fiancé?"

Throwing yourself onto him, tears filling your eyes, you screamed out a yes.

"I promise you will never feel unloved with me. I love you."

"I love you too."

(That turned out so much longer than planned oops. I recently replayed Sword cuz why not and uh oh hyperfixation back.)

[whateverwhyamievenhere]

little lestappen drabble

Hii, so I usually don't post on here, but you know it, it's winter break and the brain rot is brain rotting, so I've started to write a drabble. It's inspired by some of my favorite moments of Charles and Max that can't seem to leave my mind. This is nowhere near anything but a draft, though I thought some of you might enjoy this. Please be so kind and let me know if you like it or what could be improved. Also if anyone has any ideas where this could go plot-wise hmu, because I suck at drawing up plots beforehand. Have a great day/night wherever you are. L <3

The sun peaks right through the tips of his hair. Strands flying, highlights glistening in the golden light. One last lap they said, one more push, till he got to feel the light of the setting sun blind his eyes. He's in Texas, finished his quail lap, scrambled out of the car, and all he searched for was the blue of his eyes.

Like ocean, like storm. Crashing on a shore, there will always be a twist in Charles gut when Max meets his eyes. Inevitably drawn to each other, dancing around each other, desire mistaken for distaste. Green clashing into blue, in a haze of moments Charles is being ripped right out of the calming sun. Media Duty, take pictures, smile, be nice and orderly. Most importantly, get along. Get along with Max. These are direct orders because everyone seems to think they hate each other. Charles thinks they may did once upon a time. Now he’s not quite sure what to make of it all. ____________________________________________________ “Charlie I’ve got some space for you” the words echo in Charles' head, did Max just call him Charlie, normally only Alex or maybe Lando does so rarely. Why in the world of why's does it make feel Charlie all giddy? What does Max think that he's allowed to call him Charlie? Isn’t that reserved for his closer friends? Does Max think they are friends? Sure, he's been acting as such ever since Austin, but what exactly changed? Why aren’t the forcibly nice, why does it seem like Max enjoys his company more than he used to?  And why does he immediately comply and squeeze through to Max, standing at the other side of the room? Brush of shoulders, hands clasping each other, slight shove where his back dips in. Broad smile, teeth on full display, eyes crinkling. Max is flashing him his most Maxie smile there is. Sue him if Max can call him Charlie, at least he can call him Maxie in his mind. Maybe one day he will be allowed to say it out loud, just like Daniel is.  “I thought you’d suffocate over there.” “Yeah, well I’m glad, I didn’t. Any news from Daniel, his party still standing for tonight?” “Do you really think we’d be in Vegas and Daniel would let it slip though his fingers to start the weekend of sober? He’s going to be the death of us!” “Ah no, I think we will manage quite well, you think?” At that, Max slings an arm around Charlies shoulder, slightly shakes his head in dismissal, smirks to himself and moves them after the rest of their friends that were just mingling mere seconds before. Max is leading them towards the press conference that Charles entirely forgot about once he heard Max claim “Charlie” his. ____________________________________________________

[pmpwbrrs]

I'm pretty much in love with your off string au could you ramble more abt it .,. I'd be extremely happy to read it

Im glad you like it and thank you for reminding me that I wrote this, and giving a reason to ramble <3!! Sadly i don't have anything to really add? But I'll say what i kept to myself i guess!

I keep remembering about one of the things ghostlycoze said.

—

—

I actually REALLY like this idea. I don't think ALL iterators are gonna have this problem, because not all iterators, i like to think, associate themselves with their puppet? And they are all different. But i love thinking about how some of them look up at the sky, and see endless heavy clouds produced by their still giant, powerful colleagues(family? friends?), while they are here, small, and so vulnerable. I like to think that that the longer they stare at the bottomless, grey sky, the more they can't tear the eyes away. How they feel their new heart beating faster now, and it makes them nauseated and more stuck in this moment – because this heart is beating like a mouse's. So fast, they can feel it, they can hear it, in their neck, in their chest. And it's foreign. The sky is foreign. The choking dampness of the air is foreign, the wet cold soil is foreign. THEY are foreign. Can they be even considered an iterator? How? They are not even the same person, how can they still call themselves an iterator?

What have they done to themselves?

I don't think some iterators even manage to handle this. I think some of them, with no way of returning to a previous live, take an easy way out. Or at least risk it – after all, they don't know what the Cycle thinks of not only iterators, but of an abomination like them.

For some of them this is not freedom. For some of them, freedom is impossible to obtain, even when they have risked it all and threw away everything that made them who they were.

Or maybe, for some of them, at some point – standing in the cold, wet soil, becomes a sort of relieve. Perhaps, for some of them, the damp air and the now rumbling, endless sky, become more welcome. Maybe it's better for them, than what they were before. Maybe they'll get used to this, even if it's so hard it makes their head heavy, and their breath quickened, and even when they are not what they were, and never will be. Maybe as they breath in, they'll be reminded that they are no longer stuck because they've been given no other choice, but they are stuck on their own accord. Maybe that makes them ecstatic. Or, yet again, scared, or regretful. Or guilty. It depends on an individual. But overall, it's hard for all of them. And not all of them can or wants to deal with this.

–––

I also remember I was thinking about «what if Pebbles is saved only in Saint's era?». But the more I thought about it, the more sad and existential I became, and I never got around to drawing anything, because the idea of slowly losing yourself and all your memories terrifies me.

I think, if Pebbles is saved in Saint's time, there is no way to bring him the way as he once was. It's just NO WAY, i can't believe it. His whole body had fucking giant TEARS in it, there wasn't a single place left of him, his neurons are now squashed by 574020 kms of rot, 30942 kms of metal and dead organic and his flesh, and 2933892 kms of snow, he's a home for fauna and flora now. He will never come back. MAYBE some neurons will help?? But i don't think they will, or that they should help as much as they helped Moon.

Pebbles cannot recover fully. Of course, care and patience and not being in his corpse will help, slowly, but still not a whole lot.

I wonder how Moon would feel about him. How everyone would feel. And mainly, how Pebbles would feel.

I already somewhat explored the idea of Pebbles losing his memories. It was an animatic about his life flashing before his eyes, but wrong and twisted, and he can't remember the names of the people he cared about, but he feels guilt and shame, and in the end he gets ascended (right now animatic is abandoned).

But... If he's off string....

Imagine how painful it is to look in the eyes of a person and know that you did something horrible to them, but you can't remember what it was, and you can barely even remember who this person is. All you know is that you love them, and that you have hurt them. How would their forgiveness feel? Would Pebbles feel weird relief? Confusion? Grief? Will it even help?

Will he feel anger and an inexplicable sting of pain when they look at him with pity? How would he feel if he saw people's hope when they think he might remember something, but he just can't?

I already said that "iterator off string is not even the same person", but in the case of Five Pebbles in Saint's time, I think it applies to him even more. He's not the same person even before he gets out.

How would he feel being so small and fragile, but being aware of it, now? How aware is he, really? Has he even agreed to go off string? Could he agree? How would HE feel about the stuff I said earlier? The sky, the snow under his feet, the freezing, biting wind?

I don't like making things all dark and gloomy and no hope FOREVER only SUFFERING though. I think there are ways to help Pebbles and to heal. For all of them, really. Sure, as I said, I like to think there's not much you can do to help FP, but there are ways. And in the end, even though he doesn't have his memories, and he's scared and confused, and he's weak and small, and he's in pain, and he feels cold – he's with people he loves, and who love him. I think it's beautiful. And I think it's an improvement on rotting away in the snow and listening to the same tune until the end of time. And now he gets warm much more often.

–––

That's pretty much it? I didn't think about off string that much. I GUESS there are also some fanfiction i wrote, but ehh + I'm shy about my writing + it's russian and needs translation + it doesn't focus the on a dread of being off-string and all that, so I'm not gonna show that.

A lot of people left really interesting thoughts in tags on this post with nsh though, so I recommend you to check them out, they are lovely <3

[tsururoach]

EXCUSE ME I RECENTLY DISCOVERED VOCALOIDS AND IMMEDIATELY FELL IN LOVE WITH OLIVER /p

thank you for blessing us with ur Oliver art <3 he needs more love fr. and more happy songs.

i just got here so im not sure if you've mentioned it before, but do you have a fav Oliver song? :3

I'm glad you like my art of him! I've been drawing him for 9-ish years now, but it's always nice to hear other fans of his also like my art! I don't actually talk to a lot of Oliver fans haha.

I always really really admired Dappleback/Lawlietlk's designing skill, and I had a whole presentation how much I appreciated his character design and how it lead back into why I think as a vocaloid he has one of the best designs.

Like don't get me wrong, Vocaloid (and other synths) have really good designs, just sometimes they aren't necessarily as good as Vocaloid designs y'know?

Like hear me out, I feel like the biggest appeal of vocaloid mascots is this: They can be whatever you want. Now on one hand you can argue that 'no mascot' is even Moreso freedom and should have worked better than mascot, but what's missing is the intrigue. There is a breeding ground of creativity hidden beneath restriction.

Like, often enough what people need most in order to create something is just a guideline, and for me that's what Oliver offers. Like, sometimes, too much canon is a bad thing, and people need to remember that.

The #1 selling point of Oliver's design is the intrigue his design offers. There's so much of it that once changed loses that 'space of expression.' And yet, no matter how much you are able to change, he also is able to maintain that 'constant' that lets you know that yes, that is still him, even if you change it. I don't have it anymore but it's been years, but I had a whole chart explaining it.

Over the years Oliver has gotten a lot of motifs and concepts assigned to him, that only derive from smaller aspects of his designs, for example: His bandages.

While you may argue it's not entirely unique, that is exactly the beauty of it. It's because of that so many different concepts stem from it.

One of the biggest themes correlated with Oliver is a monster/horror theme and you have the bandages to thank for it. The amount of concepts I've seen born from the sheer mystery of his bandages were so vast it's crazy. Whether it's because he's a cryptid/monster/cursed or otherwise, people are forced to make an effort to use that "why?"

And on the flip side, there is other mysteries people find from his bandages that aren't horror, they're instead going for something else: A poor waif, a vigilante, a witch, and etc. Through the simple [why], Oliver becomes limitless.

And while we're still discussing his bandages, there is elsewhere you can find beauty in his design. I know a lot of his fans are or were children when they became fans of him, and I know for a fact that some of them related to his design. It's not like he had much to go against them in thinking that-- and it's not just because of his song. For me as a child I projected onto him as a (character) as someone I could relate to. That's uh, probably why a lot of people tend to use him for horror or darker stuff. I know that some people are... unsavory, but that's why I don't really like when people hate on horror content made from him. I know a lot of people are weird about him, but it's a form of self-expression all the same.

Even aside from his bandages, his design still manages to offer intrigue. While Miku allows herself to be a blank canvas (being a mascot with very little ties, a digital idol who represents exactly that) Oliver is more like... a puzzle? Except there is no wrong answer and every time you put it together, it's always different.

There was a lot of misconceptions around his design, but Oliver was based off choirboy outfits-- not that everyone knew that. A lot of people interpreted it as a sailor outfit with nautical themes. That's why you can often see Oliver with sea-themed artworks or songs and/or if it's still around, sea-side waif depictions of him. But on the other side, there were quite a few interpretations of Oliver as a time-traveler- a noble- or hell: a literal bird boy.

Had he been given a more generic design, a more modern one, a more idol-esque version of himself, most of these interpretations of him would not exist. There would be less incentive for people to create that answer without the "why."

I don't really have a proper ranking on a more 'objective' ranking of designs as vocaloid specific mascot designs, but I feel like it's somewhat similar to... actual popularity?

Like... If i had to separate them, there's three categories in a venn diagram: Just straight up Good design (though I'd argue a lot of the other two would still fit in here), Fill-in the blank design, and blank canvas design.

I would say the OG Miku fits in all 3 categories but has been erring into just good design or her own category: too engrained into pop culture to fail.

Fukase is a good example of a Fill-in design, because he also has the classic "why" to his design. (Why is his coat like that? why does he have scars? is he human? is he a robot? Is he circus themed? Who knows?) You can see a lot of exploration of his character through that.

Vflower I feel like is primarily in the blank canvas design, because she more-so encompasses a certain fashion style and is able to attract the blank canvas of gender expression as well.

At the moment, to be honest, I can't really think of someone who only fit's in the straight up good character design but doesn't offer any mystery or fluidity, but that might just be my personality.

To be entirely clear, this venn diagram is probably closer to just a single circle instead of 3, but I'm mostly talking about which part of their design they align most with. (and the most common consensus of how to interpret them.

To be honest this is probably why I feel a bit like a Fake Oliver fan, bc I care more about his design more than his voicebank itself. (Sweats as I look at the vocaloid editor on my computer)

Man. Favorite Oliver song is tough.

Favorite Usage

I'll only be mentioning the publicly released songs using him, since it's a bit unfair if I recommend you something you either have no access to or I'm unable to find again.

To be honest I'm not a huge fan of some of Oliver's most known producers, mostly because I know they're not great people and refuse to support them. It's none of my business if you still listen to them, but I'd rather not. But, It's nice going down my old masterlist of Oliver originals.

I really like Rawbeans-P, if you ever heard her usage of Oliver, it's crazy stunning. Probably some of the best usage of him you'll ever hear.

Cat in a raincloud I know is relatively popular among my friends that I've pushed Robyn's music onto.

I feel like high up there is also Corasundae, who is honestly has a pretty refreshing (?) song-making style. I'm really not a music guy- meaning I never learnt a lot of terms properly and can't describe a lot of things to you, but I really like the general sound that corasundae uses in her works.

I think T.V.V.S is a pretty iconic song, but I'm emotionally attached to Other Side.

One of the songs I see people rarely talking about is Requiescat in Pace- I get it's probably because it's an older song, but I've always liked how it sounded and was a staple for me as a kid (and still fairly fresh into Vocaloid.) I don't think PARADIGM really released much else, but this song is sooo cool, I think about it a lot!

I'm not sure if you don't like horror, or just disappointed that it's a majority of his songs, but I don't think it's leaning too much into horror? It's really good though!

Another one of my favorite Vocaloid producers (the one I bought a keychain from as well!) is Veran Kuriensu! I found them originally from their original Lay, and it's possibly still one of my favorite Vocaloid Oliver Originals still to this day. While it's my favorite, I do know that they've improved drastically and their other works with Oliver is crazy good, but Lay has a special spot to me and makes me feel especially Nostalgic.

I've always liked how the lyrics sounded as well. I think otherwise my second favorite song from them is 星をあつめに. It's really good I Promise. Please please do give their stuff a chance!!

I feel like another producer I'd recommend for similar reasons to Rawbeans-P is Baggagelizard. He's always forever been kind of a legend to me! He's a super cool guy, and he has really good usage of Oliver's voicebank as well. One of my favorite songs he's done is Song for the forgotten, which was even my Oliver Collab piece back in like... 2016? That's honestly a bit crazy to me seeing how long it's been.

Baggagelizard tends to have such a special sound to the music he makes, I think it's kind of... a morose wistfulness? If you're into this one, I genuinely hope you check out his other works as well!

Actually I'm adding this one, because I really like the atmosphere of it! It's called Tavern and it's a really fun song using Big Al, Oliver, and Kaito and I think it's such a fun song! Apparently other Oliver fans I've recommended it said it wasn't their cup of tea though (′д｀σ)σ.

OH and how could I forget: Childhood Bye-Bye is honestly borderline a classic for me! I think it's a really iconic song, but it always surprises me that it's not as popular as I think it is. The producers other works are also really good!

Oooh, another Producer I can recommend is Compasscat! They use Uni, SeeU, and sometimes Oliver (maybe other vocaloids but I'm actually writing this in class (lol). You should try checking them out! I think I enjoyed it but I've been told the things I like are... different from how other people like things.

Actually, on the thought of not-so dark songs using Oliver, I hardly see any Oliver fans (or Yohioloid) fans talking about Yellow Card. I hadn't listened to it for years, but I still think it's pretty fun to this day, you could try checking it out if you feel like it. While we're at it, I'll add a bunch of special mentions for songs I knew were fairly liked enough when I was deeper into vocaloid but never see people talk about anymore as well. To be honest, I'd have a lot more to add to this list, but a lot of Oliver Originals I really liked are deleted or missing.... I understand it's at the producer's own discretion, but it's a little sad.

Unfortunately, A lot of the Bilibili/Niconico songs that I really liked were deleted or really really hard to access/find, but I'll reblog if I find them again.

[rabbitenn]

hello, i was wondering if i could request trigger and what soulmate au you think matches them? like red string of fate, injuries appearing on your soulmates body, countdown timer, etc. please remember to take care of yourself and no rush when it comes to this. i just really appreciate finding another fan of trigger :)

thank you and i hope you remember to eat, rest, and hydrate <33

U COMPLETE ME.

“Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same.”

ft. Yaotome Gaku, Kujo Tenn, Tsunashi Ryunosuke x gn! reader.

cw/genre: soulmate au, romance, fluff.

hi, lovely nonnie ! thank you so much for this request ! it is my first time ever writing soulmate au, so I hope it’s not too bad… you’re so sweet ! you take care as well, yeah? stay safe, well rested and hydrated 🩷 I’m glad to meet another TRIGGER fan too <3 I apologize this took so long :(( – it’s also the longest fic I’ve ever written hehe – I still hope you like it, mwah !

♡ YAOTOME GAKU

… and getting flowered tattoos wherever your soulmate receives a scar. The tattoos disappear once you and your soulmate meet.

It started around the time TRIGGER was formed.

Gaku doesn’t really know the meaning of the dark ink appearing on his skin sometimes.

It began with the swirling rose on his shoulder, an intricate pattern of decaying petals that seemed to drift away over the pallor of his back. The art was beautiful, but he can’t quite recall ever having it done. It seemed to be appealing enough for photoshoots, so his manager didn’t mind much.

However, that mysterious flower wasn’t the last of petals that would caress the idol’s skin.

Another flower appeared some time after, right below one of his knees. A dahlia this time, its petals with a subtle shade of warm pink filling them in.

And again, he is certain he has never stepped into a tattoo parlor…

This matter is beginning to take a turn for the bizarre, seeing how the rose on his shoulder is mostly faded, akin to a sepia colored photograph displayed in a sunny room, memories exchanged for light and time.

However, he was not the only one with a garden of ink flowering on their skin.

—

Lying down on your bed, you spread your fingers, hand raised before you. Your eyes follow the lines of the two blooms circling your pointer and ring finger: a dahlia and a rose, respectively.

Where did they even come from? You don’t have the habit of drawing on your own skin since you were a kindergartner, nor have you dared to get anything permanently inked on your body just yet… The flowers simply appeared one night, as if they were extensions of the starry heavens, forming a ring tailored to you.

You roll around in your bed, picking up one of the latest magazines you’ve acquired, your favorite idol group featuring on its cover.

The next thing you know, you’re bolting upright, the glossy book centimeters away from your face.

It’s not like the fact that TRIGGER appears on the cover is anything out of the ordinary, but rather, you’re solely focused on their leader.

Yaotome Gaku. Your bias since they debuted.

He’s wearing nothing but an open white shirt with black pants.

And there, on his right shoulder, you see it.

It’s partially covered by his clothes, but they’re see-through enough.

Dark lines converging into what’s unmistakably a rose, a few petals extending down his back and collarbone.

Your eyes flit from your hand to the picture and to your hand again.

There is no doubt. It’s the exact same design.

You have to make it to their next concert. You have to see him, and try to talk to him. Even if it just may be wishful thinking, you have to at least try.

Luckily for you, TRIGGER’s next live performance is around the corner.

—

And so, the fated day arrives, with you on the first row holding white light sticks tightly.

All your nerves seem to manifest in the throbbing sensation of the dark blooms you sport.

As usual, TRIGGER’s concert is an utter success, and you’d be elated to be witnessing such a spectacle were it not for the wild thumping of your heart at what you’ve decided to do afterwards.

As the music ends and your favorite idols say good night, you take one last deep breath.

You make a beeline for the back entrance and wait.

Muffled voices of fans come from the other side of the rundown door, but they’re all white noise to you.

Under the mixed light of stars and streetlamps, you examine your tattoos once more. They almost seem to flicker, as if glitter in shades of night had been melted over the inked lines.

Minutes pass, the crowd dissipating, their voices fading into the faraway stars, concealed behind the abundance of illumination.

And then, the door to your side opens.

A tall figure you’ve watched dance countless times strides out, and, for a second, your voice dies out in your throat.

Is this really a good idea? Will he just take you for another crazy fan?

No, you have to focus.

“E-excuse me…” You begin, voice slightly trembling.

Steely eyes meet yours, yet somehow, you don’t feel any of the coldness their color would suggest.

“I…” The idol’s head tilts to the side for an instant at your hesitation. “Okay so this might sound insane, and you’ll probably think I’m some crazy fan, which I am- A fan I mean, not crazy, hopefully…” You trail off, nervously fiddling with the hem of your shirt, as you look down. “But the thing is…” You shake your head. “I’ll show you.” You finally manage, exposing your ring finger to the night lights. “Maybe it’s just a coincidence, but… how did you get your tattoo? The one on your shoulder… I kind of… isn’t this one the exact same?” You ask, showing him your hand.

His winter sky eyes widen, and, when you follow his gaze, you find an eerie glow blazing in shades of white where your tattoos are.

And not only that. A gasp leaves your lips when matching brightness emanates from the man’s shoulder and knee, the shapes, the exact same on your fingers, glowing in your favorite color.

“What even-“ he begins. His sentence goes unfinished, the sudden burst of light fading, leaving nothing but untarnished skin behind, all traces of ink vanished.

Then you notice them.

Paler than the rest of his skin, two thin lines mar his ring and index finger, the exact same place where your tattooed flowers used to be.

And it dawns on you, that the garden of ink you’ve been sharing isn’t just a coincidence.

“How did you get these?” You question, fingers delicately threading through the idol’s. The rosy hue of summer dahlias rises to his cheeks at the contact. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to…” You fumble, realizing you were holding his hand.

“No need to apologize.” He smiles. “I help out someone in the kitchen sometimes.” He doesn’t elaborate further.

Afterwards, one of his hands reaches for your shoulder, where the point of a jagged thin scar, mostly faded, peeks out. “May I?” He asks, as you nod, giving him the green light to pull your shirt slightly aside.

Momentarily, his gaze widens, a flash of puzzle pieces falling into place. Then, a soft smile tilts his lips upwards.

“So, may I know the name of my soulmate?” Are the words of Yaotome Gaku, as he extends a hand to you.

You take it, introducing yourself.

“Is it okay for us to be together here in the open, Yaotome-san?” You ask, glancing around for prying eyes.

“It’s alright.” He assures, tone soft. “And you can call me just Gaku.” A smile reaches his eyes, its shine not unlike the slivers of moon reflected in the puddles of late summer rain. “It’s nice to finally meet you, [Y/n]”.

“Likewise, just Gaku.” You grin, a little mischievous, as you take his hand.

♡ KUJO TENN

… and sharing the same talents. What one learns, the other can also do.

Unconsciously, you start humming the same melody again.

Like every morning as you walk through deserted streets, the sun yet to rise from behind an horizon that you felt was at the tip of your fingertips when you sang.

It’s a well known piece, of that you are certain. You’ve done your research as lyrics began flowing from your lips like a forgotten native language.

Somehow, one day you knew them by heart, when the previous one, a nostalgic melody was all you had to go by.

And the voice you hear, or imagine in your mind when you think about the song… you swear you’ve heard it somewhere before.

As a gust of wind causes you to tuck your coat tighter around you, a flapping sound momentarily interrupts your line of thought.

Clinging onto a street light, a dark piece of glossy paper catches your eye. Bright colors can be made out on the edges of it, white lettering covering the back of the flier.

No harm in taking a look, right? You think to yourself, as your gloved hand reaches for it.

Turning it around in your grasp, you notice it’s an advertisement.

Apparently TRIGGER is performing again soon at the FSC Hall.

A smile illuminated in the cold light of morning curls your lips upwards.

Finally, they’re getting a chance to perform at a large venue.

TRIGGER is the group that’s been with you through thick and thin since their formation, and oddly enough, somehow, you could always memorize their songs without even trying.

Well, not exactly memorize.

It’s more like, you already knew every one of their songs when you listened to them for the first time.

It certainly was uncommon, but then again, since you were a kid you somehow had always picked up dancing and singing uncanningly quickly, with no training at all. And while you did not choose to make it a profession, it certainly was a hobby you held very dear.

The tunes you sang, the swaying of your body on nights when all you knew were tears, had brought a little of light and color to otherwise tinted in drowning memories.

And it was TRIGGER’s songs you always danced to, akin to the first cherry blossoms carpeting an otherwise muddy ground.

Pocketing the pamphlet, you heave a sigh, adjusting your back and heading towards the train station.

You have to get tickets this time. Is the thought that accompanies you for the rest of the day, in moments when you’re not humming that song.

The center of your beloved idol group in question, by the way, happened to have a hidden talent of his own too.

—

Everyone who is a fan of Kujo Tenn knows of his enjoyment of sweeter tastes, and especially, his love for donuts.

However, what remains a secret to most is the fact that he can bake quite well.

The idol doesn’t know how or when exactly did he learn; his only memory is still being in middle school when his usual bakery had run out of his beloved treat, thus, he decided to try his hand at it himself.

To his surprise, both the flavor and texture came out perfectly, almost impossibly alike to the chocolatey desserts he usually got on his way home.

He hasn’t visited that bakery for a while, now that he thinks about it… Will it even still be there?

He doesn’t have much longer to dwell on the thought when his two groupmates (who also happen o be his roommates) get home.

“Something smells really good in here…” Tenn can make out Ryu's voice coming from somewhere in the corridor.

“Tenn, we’re home!” Gaku this time, and two sets of approaching footsteps.

“Hey, Tenn, what is it that smells so nice?”

Tenn in question has a few seconds to ‘tsk’ and turn around, frilly pink apron still on while he mixes the dough.

“You guys could have warned me that you’d be here so early.” He grumbles, blushing. Oh, he so knows the other two won’t drop the subject of him cooking in a cute apron.

“You baking?” Gaku, his head peeking over Ryunosuke’s shoulder.

Tenn pinches the bridge of his nose. For someone who was the center of a world famous idol group, he certainly didn’t enjoy being on the spotlight like this.

“So what if I am…” He glares at the leader of his group.

“Must you always be so charming?” Gaku shoots back, words coated in pure sarcasm.

“There, there… guys, please, there’s no need to fight…” Ryu intervenes. “I didn’t know you could bake, Tenn… when did you learn?”

Maroon eyes avert to the side.

“It’s complicated… I didn’t exactly learn… I just tried one day and somehow I knew how to.”

“Just like that?” His friend’s amber eyes narrow in thought. He gives Gaku a look, to which the latter shakes his head in confusion. “I’m not entirely sure that could be your case,” Ryu continues. “But, back in Okinawa, I heard people talk once, stories circulated too… I’m not certain how much truth is there in them but maybe… could it be you have a soulmate, Tenn?”

The modern angel’s brows furrow skeptically.

“A soulmate? Isn’t that a folktale?”

“We don’t know…” his older friend goes on. “Isn’t it just a little strange, however, you could bake perfectly on the first try? Unless you used some recipe…”

“I didn’t.” Tenn states, confidently. “It’s as if… I somehow had already memorized it, even though I cannot remember when, how or where.”

“Then it’s not impossible you got this talent from them… And whoever they are, they know a thing or two about making sweets. Seems fitting for you, huh?” Comes Ryunosuke’s friendly teasing.

As his friends go get changed, Tenn begins preparing the dough for shaping, the word ‘soulmate’ lingering on the back of his mind like an old childhood song.

—

Lately, Zero Arena had become a place of respite for you.

Early evenings dusked beautifully behind the building, pinks and golds glittering off of the expanse of rippling water surrounding it.

Despite the warm hues the world keeps dyeing in as the sun sets, the air is cold.

You regret not having brought a scarf.

Plus, the just baked donuts you made at work only do so much to warm your hands as you hold the box between them.

Closing your eyes against the dying sunlight, you lean back on the bench, taking a breath before starting to sing the lyrics the great idol Zero used to.

Dis one.

Curiously, that and TRIGGER’s songs were the ones you managed to always intone perfectly, especially the parts Kujo Tenn, their center, performed.

Except this once, yours is not the only singing voice.

You’d have to live under a rock to not recognize that voice, but then again, this couldn’t be, could it?

You wait until you and your duet companion chant the last note.

And then you turn around.

A few feet away from where you sit, a lean male stands. His hair falls perfectly over one side of his face, the color of starlight through clouds. He sports a dark coat, accentuating the overall angelic pallor of his complexion, the red scarf around his neck, almost matching the shade of his eyes, akin to little pools of a blazing horizon.

“How are you able to sing that song perfectly? Kujo Tenn inquires, without further preamble.

His tone… it’s… colder? than what you recall him to be on stage.

You bite your lip, then:

“I don’t know. I just do… I’ve known this song for a long time… I have no idea why I can sing it, how, when, or where I learned it.”

His expression remains guarded; then, he notices the box you’re holding over your lap.

Recognition flashes through his sanguine gaze.

“That box. What’s in it?” Tenn’s eyes don’t leave the logo stamped in pink over the white background.

He knows that design. He used to stop by every day back when he was still in middle school, after all.

“Oh, this?” You open the lid an inch. “Just something I made today at work after I ended my shift. Would you like to try one, Kujo-kun?” You offer, now opening the donut-filled box completely.

A tender smile paints the idol’s lips a more vibrant shade of rose the moment you recognize him, slender fingers reaching out for one of the chocolate covered donuts.

“I remember these, from years ago.” He trails off. “I didn’t know if the shop would still be there…”

“It is.” You smile, a little woeful. “My grandparents grew too old to keep working on the business, though, so I kind of manage it by myself now.”

A twilit breeze picks up, your free hand instinctively reaching up to pull your coat closer around your neck.

“Oh! Would you like to have these?” You manage, fumbling a little for words when it sinks in that, yes, you’re talking to one of the most famous idols of the moment.

“Only if you accept this first.” The man utters, already wrapping his maroon scarf snuggly around your neck.

You fluster, cheeks blazing like the sun that’s already halfway behind Zero Arena’s ground level.

Nodding, you hand him the box.

“I have another offer.” Tenn states, fingers brushing against yours when you pass him the package. “I can help you bake for your shop. Would you like to… meet up and practise my performances with me some time in exchange?”

You raise an eyebrow.

“No offense but, can you bake?”

“I don’t know why I can, how, when, or where I learned, but yes, I can bake.” The idol replies, with a warm, knowing smile.

“And what do you gain from this exchange?” You question further, a part of you fearing this is just some cruel joke despite how right everything, how right you feel around him.

“To get to know my soulmate.” Tenn utters, as notes of powdered sugar and fuchsia clouds surround you.

That’s more like the angel you admire.

Your soulmate.

“I’d like to get to know you, too, Tenn.” You return his smile, soft.

As you share conversation coated in colored sweetener, you begin making your way back home.

Home…

Perhaps you’ve already started becoming each other’s.

♡ TSUNASHI RYUNOSUKE

… and having a compass on your body leading you to where your soulmate is.

Lately, the needle has started twitching.

In golden ink, perfectly circular on the inner side of your wrist, the tattoo of an ornate compass lies.

Its point had always been stagnant, lines in silver glitter inked over your veins, its only movement your beating pulse.

However, as nights began to cover in bright lights and snow, your compass had started pointing towards somewhere.

Or rather, someone.

You knew wherever they were, whoever they were, you’d find them somewhere along the other end of the needle.

As you sip a warming latte, your gaze entranced by the slow flutter of snowflakes as they fall with the gelid breeze of night, you wonder.

What kind of person might your soulmate be? Are they still far away, since all the compass has done is flutter, not particularly pointing anywhere?

Does the movement mean you’re somehow getting closer to your soulmate?

Sighing, you pull your sleeve over the aureate circle permanently etched on you, before standing up, paying for your order and taking off into the cold evening.

—

The sudden activity on his compass can’t be just coincidence.

Tsunashi Ryunosuke knows he’s not hallucinating either, he knows the gilded lines tracing over his veins by heart.

After all, the compass never once moved when he used to accompany his father on fishing trips, tumultuous waters threatening to topple the small boat over.

However, since he’s gotten into this plane, the argent point has budged slightly, akin to a broken watch that went back and forth, forever ticking the exact same second.

Ryunosuke’s honey gaze glances out the window, his hometown in Okinawa little more than a dot of green and brown over the astronomical expanse of blue expanding on all sides.

Closing his eyes, the to-be idol leans against the headrest of his seat.

He wonders, what will this new life of his be like? And who is the person his tattoo is being pulled towards?

Landing is still hours away; he guesses he can rest his mind for a while for now.

—

The compass has moved again.

Fully moved this time, unmistakably pointing towards a concrete direction, no matter how much you turn around or change position.

A pull resonates throughout your whole body, urging you to follow the path it indicates. A lane of gilded cobblestones, at the end of which your other half supposedly awaits.

What if it’s all wrong, though? What if they’re someone scary? What if you just get kidnapped and all of this is just part of some malicious bigger scheme?

‘No. Focus, [Y/n]’. You try telling yourself, shaking your head.

A gust of liquid night pricks your skin in icy shards when you step outside, the moon’s smile glinting off of the aureate pattern on your forearm, a thread of starlight pulling you towards your fated soulmate.

Of course, the universe saw to it that you were not the only one chasing after this not yet tangible dream.

“Excuse me for a second now, guys.” Ryu announces, after him and his two future group mates have finished showing off their dancing moves.

Quickly grabbing his coat on the way out, his steps carry him through the stardust contained in the remnants of snow littering the streets.

And yet, despite the possibility of slipping, the idol’s gaze is solely focused on his wrist.

In the same way those of the person who accidentally bumps into him are.

A colliding force suddenly sends you stumbling backwards, the slippery asphalt already unforgivingly hard in your mind as you shut your eyes and brace for impact.

Except instead of the cold and hard sound of dirty concrete against bones, a gentle voice follows.

“I’m so sorry! Are you alright?”

Then you open your eyes. Strong arms are keeping you upright, strangely comforting, even though this is the first time you’ve seen the owner of this warming voice.

Regaining your stance, you apologize:

“My bad, I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going…” You explain, laughing a bit nervously.

The man smiles, and you realize then how handsome he truly is.

For all you know, he could very well be a model, an actor even.

Soft brown hair sweeps over one side of his face, his tanned skin accentuating inviting golden irises. The curves of his face are sharp and sculpted, but somehow soft all at once; a gentle hearth, beckoning you to take a moment of respite.

“I suppose I wasn’t paying attention either.” Are the next words he speaks, waking you up from your momentary reverie.

Then, a flash of gold catches his eye, and you notice him glancing to your wrist.

“Ah yeah…” You smile, a bit flustered. “I was just looking for someone…” Your words trail off, observing how the needle now points in the direction the attractive stranger came from.

“That makes two of us, then.” He smiles, displaying the inner side of his forearm for you to see the exact same tattoo you have, pointing straight towards you.

Matching smiles meet your lips when it all clicks.

He’s the one you had been searching for amidst nights where falling snow erased the traces of everything; the footprints of fated love buried beneath layers of frigid moondust.

And you. The tethering anchor awaiting in the raging waves. A lighthouse, the promise of a home here too, despite being miles away from his own.

“Call me Ryu.” He tells you, extending a hand to you.

You sofly shake it, both of you a little awkward.

You chuckle in unison.

“I kinda have to get back somewhere now…” He explains, a shadow of guilt passing over those sunshine eyes. “But let’s meet soon? I’ll find you.” He promises, raising his arm, showing you the compass pointed at you.

“Sounds good.” You softly utter, to him, to the stars who wrote this fate.

With a last kind smile, he rushes towards the street he came from.

You stand there for a few minutes after his figure has vanished.

Ryu. You have the impression the glow of fame is coming his way.

You turn on your heel.

The stars glow a little warmer.

[bberetd]

Hey there! Since you also reblogged the post saying you want people to send you asks (actually I even reblogged it from you), here I am to ask you a question. A potentially very tough one. Ready?

If you had to pick only one (1!) favorite Mario character who would it be and why?

I'm just trying to get to know my mutuals a little better, y'know?

But most people seem to be using that 'send me asks' post as another opportunity to say mushy stuff to each other, so let me also do that! I'd like to remind you that I'm very glad that I'm following your blog. You're certainly a fun and kind person, and must say I like you very much 😀❤️ Thanks for always supporting my art, it really means a lot to me.

Also please teach me your ways to draw so fast, I just finally finished sketching my latest fanart today (yeah, that ambitious one) and it took embarrassingly long. And this one is supposed to have a proper lineart too💀

Oh, that reminds me: I'm really excited for your animations! Once I'm done with my current fanart, the next bigger fan project on my list is also one animation I've been thinking of, so I hope we'll be able to motivate each other a bit 😁👊

OH just oneeee? 😩

Whew, okay, well... while Daisy has a huge place in my heart (especially lately, as you can tell 😹), my all-time favorite will always be Luigi.

See, the funny thing is that I hardly cared for him before the movie, and even a little after I watched the movie. My first favorite Mario character was actually Rosalina when SMG came out, because I was SO obsessed with space when I was younger (and still kinda am), and blue was and is my favorite color (such a deep reason, right? :P)

I always tend to lean towards the underdogs of a franchise, yet I don't remember the exact moment that drew me to him. There were just a bunch of edits and videos of him flooding all of my social media pages when the movie hype was still fresh, and I guess one day I decided, "yup. that's my guy."

I think the moment that really solidified my love for him was when I replayed Luigi's Mansion (I kiiinda played it before, but I was 4 and just pressing buttons lol... it's strangely a core memory for me). His bravery throughout the game despite his evident fears and anxieties is just... so inspiring and real to me, genuinely. And a little bit of him shone through his commentary of some of the objects throughout the mansion, which was also endearing 😆 The game gets creepier the deeper I think about it, and I just can't help but give him more flowers for going through it three different times!

plus, he's just so happy and awkward and silly. how could you not love him?!

But in short, he's my favorite because he's relatable to me, and I find his little quirks adorable and endearing.

yet despite all that, he knows when to lock tf IN. that's my hero <3

anywhoooo...

Mugi!!! I couldn't be any happier that we're friends and moots! You've blessed my timeline with your gorgeously detailed art and commentary, and I'm so grateful you support my art just as much ♥️♥️ I admire and like you very much as well, you're amazing <3

as for quick art, basically-

and thank you!! the animation might take longer because classes start tomorrow for me, and year 3 of uni is definitely gonna be more challenging and, er, expensive. 🫠 Hopefully I'll learn to manage my time better so I can make decent progress every day, but I do know where I want to go with the animation. Big yes to motivating each other!! I know that ambitious art will be PHENOMENAL when it's dropped, and I can't wait to see your style in motion! :))