#spinel with her hair down

[fireopal-tash]

🧡❤️🧡

Click the image for better quality UwU

[fettiowi]

THROWS MORE SPINEL AT U EHEHE

I love her sm and I cannot stop

[shhtickerbook]

Little Spinel 🩷

🩷💫🌸

bonus headcanons below!!!

TW for mild SH referencing

🩷 Spinel is a trauma regressor, she has severe separation anxiety which can trigger her to regress down. Although Gems don’t age, her headspace is mainly a projection of her vulnerability and emotions.

🩷 In her head Spinel feels like she still has to perform for approval, and often tries to desperately make people laugh or be entertained so that they won’t leave. When she regresses, she doesn’t need to put up that farce. She can just relax and be herself with no pressures to entertain anybody.

🩷 Whilst her regression helps her calm down, very often Spinel uses her regression as an opportunity to get her feelings out. She’s extremely prone to having tantrums when things don’t go right. It may seem on the outside that her regression isn’t soothing her, but on the inside it’s extremely freeing for her to get it all out of her system. And one of her caregivers will always be nearby to make sure she doesn’t hurt herself and to comfort her when she’s finished.

🩷 When little she wears a thick softer pair of gloves to avoid hurting herself when she’s frustrated. White Diamond herself takes pride in dressing her in an array of different little outfits.

🩷 Her main caregivers are the diamonds, but she has a special soft spot for Blue. Blue diamond absolutely adores little spinel, loving to carry her around in her hair whilst she runs errands on homeworld.

🩷 The diamonds all take pride in caring for Spinel. They all know that the way they treated Pink wasn’t okay, and whilst they can’t truly ever make up for those actions, they do everything in their power to make sure Spinel is loved, cherished and cared for.

🩷 Steven also babysits from time to time, bringing her toys and other human things for her to play with. Taking an almost big brother role for the gem.

🩷 Steven was happy for Spinel to take Pink’s old room. With the Pebbles rearranging the interior depending on Spinels current headspace.

[blueau-niverse]

And we're back! Starting on my birthday for some extra luck on not having to take another hiatus for a couple of years lol

As always if you want to see pages early, check out my patreon here: www.patreon.com/DyoComics -

Transcript:

Panel 1: Jasper looks off to the side to consider. Panel 2: Jasper nods with a slight smile, arms open. Panel 3: Spinel reacting to Jasper being cute with 3 exclamation marks above her head, and the panel also taking the shape of an exclamation mark. Panel 4: Spinel squats down in a cartoony fashion, a rumble sound effect around her. Panel 5: Spinel Shoots up into the sky like a rocket, Jasper is left confused in the bottom corner. Panel 6: Spinel lingers in the sky momentarily, her hair forming a heart behind her. Panel 7: Spinel shoots down like a rocket, the smoke cloud in a heart shape Panel 8-11: shots closing in on Jasper from above as she realizes Spinel is coming back down, and she holds up her hands to catch her. Panel 12: Jasper catches Spinel as they are engulfed in light. Panel 13: They have formed Carnelian again and she's smiling as she returns.

[1tsstargaze59]

Sweetie, get up! Star dropped some more fankids!! ✨️

Also, here's the voiceclaim for Rory becuz it's rare that I find voices to match characters!!!! BUT THIS IS PERFECT ✨️

ALSO BEFORE I FORGET TO ASK

Lore drop under the cut! ^^

Let me start with Revulsion, aka Rory! 🤎

Rory is very particular about how certain things should be : clean, proper and... literally the opposite of whatever tf bugs have going on XD He HATES those things. He takes much more after his mom in terms of personality, he's very judgemental and will make those judgements known. In fact, he'll make sure you follow his requests, they aren't negotiable, unless you're fine with him puking? But that'll just make him more grossed out- Just let him clean things, it'll be OK XD After his dad, he takes the twink-ness for sure, a little but of a failure covered up by his ocd like behavior.

His design is inspired, aside from Disgust and Fear, by Éclair and Espresso Cookies from CRK, as well as the concept of Tumblr sexy men, yk having the suit XD

Excitement! 🧡

Is an odd choice of fankid for me, because I don't actually like joyxiety as a romantic pair ^^" For personal reasons tho, I don't have anything against you if you do ship it! But I saw a design with similar hair as hers! And it sparked the idea so I HAD to draw her. She's very excitable and happy! Duh XD Her personality (and design) is similar to Spinel from Steven Universe ^^ What else is there to say? A little cartoon clown on roller-skates~☆

Excitement lowkey bullies Panic because they don't want to participate in any of her activities and they tend to be a creepy downer who puts down her mood, so those two don't get along very well ^^" Revulsion has to protect Panic from her, he hates how she treats Panic as yk, they can't really help but be freaked out all the time! It's kinda in their nature! He finds her behavior repulsive, and so he intervenes between them, keeping the peace 😌

[d3adbr3inc3lls]

Amethio x RVT!Reader

He didn’t know you were part of the RVT at first, mostly because you were making sure the pokemon were okay whilst he, Zir and Conia were attacking the ship, or doing other things that didn’t include battling

The two of you met when you were buying groceries and he was trying to get more clues about the black Rayquaza.

You’ve heard Friede and Roy talking about the Explorers, but you never thought much of it, just another criminal organisation that would probably be caught soon like the other regional teams.

You told Amethio what little you knew about the black Rayquaza, it couldn’t hurt telling a stranger who was also interested in the unnatural coloured Rayquaza the information.

The first time he saw you with the RVT he was shocked. He’d never expect you to work with them, and vice versa, you were shocked that he was part of a criminal organisation. Amethio seemed like such a nice person.

It’d be a lie to say that he still thought highly of you after finding out that you were part of the RVT. He felt so many things. He felt betrayed, mostly as a result of his rivalry with the RVT.

If you and Amethio exchanged numbers, he’d grow more distant and take hours, sometimes even days to reply, despite him replying relatively quickly before finding out you were part of the RVT.

If the two teams battle, he’d target you because he feels so hurt. He knows it isn’t a good thing to take out his emotions on you, the one who unintentionally hurt him, but he can’t help it. He wants you to know what he feels.

If the two of you ever get on speaking terms again, he’ll attack you in battle less, often telling Zir or Conia to go for you whilst he deals with someone else. More specifically Friede. Amethio has a one sided rivalry with the man.

The two of you would later get closer, but Amethio will keep the relationship hidden as he doesn’t know what Hamber or Gibeon would say if he were to date a member of the team he was actively fighting against.

If Sango finds out, Amethio knows he’s as good as dead. She’d tell the other Explorers about it and who knows what they’ll do. Spinel especially who seems to hate him, so he’d strongly advise you to not go anywhere near a pink haired girl that talks in 3rd person.

—

One shot with no real end as I didn’t know how to end it, but decided to keep it incase anyone wanted to read it, but be warned, it’s unfinished and is somewhat angsty,

—

“So you’re really with them?” His voice made you feel cold. As if you were a kid and he was a parent who was disappointed.

The tension only grew as you tried to think of a response.

“I didn’t know-“ Your mouth felt dry as you responded, attempting to think of anything to lighten the situation but ultimately failing.

“Don’t lie to me.” Amethio hissed. You could almost hear the hostility and anger shine through his voice. Almost.

Sighing, you lean back onto your bed. Your partner pokemon glanced at you with concern, wondering what was happening as they’ve never seen you this defeated. Giving them a comforting nod you reach a hand out to pet the ‘mon in an attempt to calm down, wondering how you’d get out of this situation and keep what the two of you have.

On the other hand, Amethio is pacing around the room he sleeps in whilst Conia anxiously looks at him, she has never seen her boss acting like this before as he waited for your response. Even Ceruledge knew that something was up by the way Amethio’s eyebrows were slightly furrowed as he paced the room.

He had never let anyone get close to him, so it was a first, but also a first for someone to be in the team he constantly fought against. Everything was so new to him. It was unnatural.

“Well?” He asked, waiting for your response. He hasn’t known you for long, so he doesn’t know what to expect from you, unlike the other admins whose responses he can easily predict.

[orchid-prince]

My 1st Year of Drawing through Fanart

I really started in July, so it’s not a full year, but taking a look back at where I started in 2024 is pretty cool! Checking for improvement, noticing where I was struggling. I can even see what skill I was trying to pick up at the time based on the jump in the skills quality/the lack of focus on others. So before the year ends here is:

���My First Year Trying to do Art✨ through the fanart I’ve made! Enjoy!! <3

Would you believe it took me 3 tries to get freaking BILL CYPHER right ?!? This is V2 actually but it’s a good indicator of where I was starting.

This was the first day I decided drawing was fun for me. I woke up, and immediately picked up my pencil to spend all morning drawing, without truly realizing it. Keep in mind I didn’t even have a pencil to draw with before this session, the other work in this notebook are, like, all pen.

🎀My baby spinel!!!🎀 I adore her🥰

Is the art good, not really, but you can tell who she is and at this point that’s kinda my only goal. If it looks like ‘em it’s close enough for me.

Side note: This is the piece that instilled the fear I will mess up any nice sketch by coloring it, a fear I still have to this day.

She may look decent here but in my sketchbook she’s ruined foreverrrr XD

Ok…maybe there’s a pattern with the kinda characters I’m compelled to draw.

Aaaanyway this is where I started focusing on hair more, the spikey look was my thing in the beginning while I was still trying to figure out how hair works. Lowkey I’m still trying to figure it out.

Also WHY DID I DRAW THE EAR LIKE THAT?!? What was I even going for 💀

Fun fact: Daria is my benchmark for progress! She’s been my favorite character since I was a teenager & she’s made of pretty simple shapes. I imagine when I get more confident I’ll take more liberties with how I draw her, like Jane, instead of trying to make it a one to one mimick.

Also bonus Sir Integra Hellsing, she was my first attempt to an actual anime style especially in the hair. And similarly to jinx you can tell this was more focused on learning on drawing her hair rather than her face. This was a trend for a few weeks which did come back to bite me in the ass with this next piece

Ya know what I didn’t see a theme with the characters I draw before I started making this post, and now I definitely do.

But OH you can SEE my struggle with her on the page🤦🏾‍♀️! This genuinely took me 2 days to do because her face frustrated me so much I rage quit till the next night.

After this I went back to practicing eyes and finally trying finding out how to draw mouths and lips in different ways and positions to avoid this problem (Didn’t work, I still often refuse to draw a face if the hair/body is pretty)

And to top it off I inked it & accidentally made her lids look like eyebrows, so now I have a fear of inking 🙄 Thanks Catra >.>

Now THIS is where I actually started staring at my hands for a good 30 seconds after drawing like “MY HANDS MANAGED TO MAKE THIS??” Because this was only 6 DAYS after I rage quit on Catra. Yet I can make this?!!? What?!?

This was genuinely just supposed to be a doodle to practice using his big ol’ grin to learn how mouths work cuz he’s all mouth and teeth. But lowkey, still have no idea how this and the next one happened. It was a weirdly good art-day for me but I had never been more proud. And shockingly I’m still really happy with how these came out, usually I get pretty ‘Meh’ on my favorites after a while. Maybe even kinda nitpicky, but these two feel like my magnum opus for the year.

^^Look at this!! If I could inject this I would! Angel Dust with Pinchers is the BEST version. I will not take criticism.

This, similar to Fizz, was mostly for his eyes and to try to get the flow of hair and fluff down.

By this point I discovered if I find which of my favorite character has a design quality that is unique that correlates to the skill, I can trick my brain into picking up the skill through hyperfixations and sheer force of will.

Aaand welcome to Valentine fails to figure out expressions and head positions, ;-; someone give me back my 3/4 front facing view cuz obviously I can’t do anything else.

This was the most low effort fanart but Marcy became a pretty easy character to draw by this point so I attempted a spooky vibe to try something new. Unfortunately they all just look traumatized, yet that kinda works for her character.

This is the point I started having a little problem, towards the end of October and beginning of November I screwed up.

I usually tried to draw every day if not every 2-4 days. Right before this I skipped over a week, for some reason tho that made me feel like my quality has begun slipping. Like if I don’t try to put lines to the page every day even if I’m just doing circles and not drawing anything productive I’m ginna lose all my progress and go back to square one. This Anya (from the game Mouthwash) is from my 4 inch doodle book I got to combat this problem.

While I’m not particularly proud of this one I will say if July Me saw this I think she’d be really proud and actually love it. So I chose to as well. Besides I adore that sweetheart Anya in any form she takes!

And last but never least: KEN TAKAKURA AKA OKARUN!!!

This is by far my favorite of my most recent drawings. Playing loosely with his shapes was pretty freeing, since I have a very stagnant idea of lines and forms, especially with hair, so getting to do Okarun was fun. His hair and collar felt very ‘scribbly’ to me which was actually fun because I wasn’t so focused on exact shapes how I usually am.

It’s not perfect (like those lopsided ears) and it’s not a direct mimick like Fizzarolli but I still really really like it.

If you go back and compare this one to even my first three I feel like I’ve gotten so much better in the last 6 months. It only makes me wanna keep trying!

***************

If you read all this, firstly thank you!!

Also keep drawing, draw every day you can. Or pick up the pencil right now and start, idc if you think it’s “bad” idc if you make 100 “bad drawings”. Art is first and foremost about having fun, feeling good while creating. Not just to get good at it, which ,not gonna lie, was my focus in the beginning. But what’s actually FEELS good in the moment is to finish up a picture and be like “WHOA I MADE that! It didn’t exist before, I made it exist!” Everyone deserves that feeling.

So pick up the pencil and get to it!

The world deserves to see what you can create <3

[gay-little-axolotl]

my designs for the sillies!!

elaboration on the designs + some hcs under the cut (it’s a long one folks!)

Ocean: she/her, lesbian, aroace-spec; her hair is naturally a Fucking Curly Mess, so she straightens it out, sprays it, and uses a headband and hair-clips; Ocean always has a pencil behind her ear in case she needs to write something down, but she always forgets she put it there; she has a coat on her waist because a long-sleeved shirt and a vest is not enough. she must not feel an ounce of cold.

Noel: he/she/they, bigender, gay; his hair is also a Fucking Curly Mess so he just puts some gel on and prays to satan it works; Noel tries to tone it down like his mother told him so he doesn’t wear pride merch to school or anything, but he does wear black earrings and black nail polish

Mischa: he/him, bisexual; I basically tried to make him look like the type of person my mom would point at in the street and go “that’s what satan does to a person!!”; Mischa constantly looks like he’s been hit by a bus, he says it’s because he gets into fights, but he’s just a fucking wreck; backwards hat, bi pin and star of David pin because I saw @lemon69lol’s post and have decided that Jewish Mischa is canon now; Ukrainian flag phone case!!; Ricky bought him these BRIGHT neon green crocs for his 18th birthday and he wears it every day (Noel wants to shred those fucking crocs);

Ricky/Savannah: any pronouns + neos, genderfluid, bisexual, demiromantic?; I gave them the neon space cat headphones and crutches as always, but I added spikes to the crutches so my guy can kick some ableist ass, and an AAC device because of an art post THAT I CAN’T FIND! if someone has that one drawing of Ricky with an AAC device strapped to his crutch tell me because I want to give credit to the artist but I CAN’T; genderfluid + any pronouns pin; shoes that aren’t matching and a dress over pants because fuck the dress-code

Jane Doe: she/they/it/doll, unlabeled; I have no idea where this design came from but, Jane with X eyes, I guess; I think I was originally basing her off of Spinel but fuck, what do I know?; doll is based on my Emilia Jane Doe

Constance: she/they, demi-girl, sapphic; I tried to make her hair resemble Trinity Constance because I ADORE their Constance!; hoop earrings and braces because I said so; rainbow socks because she’s fuckin’ queer; colorful band-aids for reasons I will not be telling you, sorry

uniform insp

[scraftyisthebest]

Thinking about Amethio. Looking at it, it seems like Amethio may in fact be a descendant of Gibeon himself. Now that we've seen what Gibeon actually looks like, he's very old and decrepit and confined to a bed, clearly artificially extending his lifespan beyond that which a human can viably live, and he has revealed that he knew Lucius in life, and that he was once friends with him and a fellow adventurer who travelled alongside him in his adventures. Clearly something went on back in their adventures that compelled Gibeon to keep living because he wants some form of closure, though I'm not sure how. This likely compelled him to form the modern-day Explorers. Diana recognized the name because in Lucius's time, the Explorers were Lucius's friends, and Gibeon, the current head, was one of them himself.

Everyone else in the group is clearly there for transactional purposes. Spinel and Chalce are the brains of the group, the researchers and intellectuals, who specialize in gathering and studying information together and in turn leading operations, since most of their operations so far have been led by at least one of Chalce or Spinel, if not both, with Chalce currently leading the operation to spy on Liko, Roy, and Dot at the Naranja Academy. Coral and Sidian seem to be the brawns of the group, two battle-loving and powerful Trainers who are dragged around by Spinel, Chalce, and Hamber to serve as firepower and backup when those three run operations, but their lust for battle often leads them to disobey orders and has also led to them having the most interactions with Liko and Roy in casual settings so far.

But Amethio seems to be rather special. Paralleling him and Liko, both him and Liko have matching hair colors to one of Gibeon or Lucius. Amethio has a black-and-white hair color scheme, which Gibeon himself actually has. Meanwhile Liko is strongly implied to be Lucius's descendant, having the same black-outside-blue-inside hair color scheme, which was also passed down to Diana. Gibeon and Lucius are fellow adventurers who knew one another back then, and it seems Amethio and Liko are their respective descendants who are the most recent members of Gibeon and Lucius's bloodlines.

Terapagos has been a big factor in this thus far. It specifically awakened in Liko's presence and protected her several times, and her presence has awakened Lucius's Pokemon one after another so far, eventually leading to Terapagos awakening permanently, all of which has led credence to the idea that Liko is Lucius's descendant.

But Terapagos in its awakened state specifically reacted to Amethio when the two finally looked each other in the eye, all the way back in Episode 25. This was interesting back then, but with what we now know about Gibeon, I think this further lends credence to the idea that Amethio may be Gibeon's descendant, especially since Terapagos most certainly knows Gibeon from the days he adventured alongside Lucius. Terapagos had no such reaction to any other Explorers member, but with Amethio specifically, it seemed to have some strong emotional reaction towards him, possibly of anger that Gibeon's descendant is on opposing sides with Lucius's descendant, and Terapagos seemed to be calling out to him. I think Terapagos may have seen Gibeon in Amethio, and realized Amethio is Gibeon's descendant and thus a reflection of Gibeon himself in Terapagos' eyes.

Amethio being a descendant of Gibeon would certainly explain his odd position amongst the Explorers. Perhaps this is why he's even in the organization, precisely because he's related to Gibeon by blood. Especially since in Gibeon's inability to act due to his body being barely functional, Hamber has acted as the acting leader on his behalf, and Hamber is noted several times to take very special care of Amethio, almost treating him like a son. His special treatment even goes so far as him being the only one with two dedicated subordinates in Zirc and Onia. Meanwhile the rest of the Explorers are basically just staff, most likely hired by Hamber for their skills but otherwise Hamber does not have any real attachment to them.

Hamber and Diana used to be friends but most likely at some point Hamber met Gibeon and formed the new Explorers with him, and Hamber might have known Diana was related to Lucius which is why he tried to recruit her, even though it ended with Diana refusing, and then Hamber eventually learning Liko had the pendant (which was really a dormant Terapagos). Sending Amethio first of all people to go after Liko and the pendant really feels like there was some meaning behind that choice, even though Gibeon and Hamber could've easily summoned Spinel or Chalce to do it first.

Amethio is going down an interesting path, but perhaps something interesting will happen with him with all this in mind. It's quite clear his and Liko's paths are ultimately intertwined, even if they first met on opposing sides as adversaries, which was the opposite of the original relationship of their implied ancestors Gibeon and Lucius who were friends. Amethio was likely raised in the life he is in, with no real path of his own, and is still trying to carve one even now, while Liko also started out with no real path of her own as well, but so far has been able to discover it thanks to meeting the Rising Volt Tacklers and most of all Roy and Dot. Amethio himself is trying to forge his own path and discover who he is like Liko is, but he doesn't have the same support network Liko has been given, since the rest of the admins don't like him or want to work with him, and he doesn't really have any peers he can call friends like Liko does.

I wonder how Amethio's relationship with the RVT and Explorers, most of all Liko, Friede, and Hamber, will change down the line in this regard.

A lot of thoughts here lol.

[starkittensblog]

What’s some of your favourite bellow head canons? :3

Oooffff... I had to spend some time to remember them. There's something I remembered (kinda cringy)

Old married couple™️

Touch love language. Tons of touching. No touching—no love

Yellow is touch starved, especially after era 2.

Yellow never forgave herself for trying to poof Blue

Blue is such a teaser. Loves annoying Yellow

Rule №1—never tell Blue you were struggling with making your hair or you'll spend a few hours more

Yellow loves making Blue laugh/Blue can't even tell jokes because she bursts out laughing before finishing them

Yellow was the reason Blue found out her new powers bc Blue realized she never wanted making HER suffer in the first place

Blue feels better when uses her aura on someone and Yellow was visiting her to share her pain

Yellow's traumatized too but hates to show it. But Blue knows it perfectly

Blue is younger, Yellow's the oposite

Almost the same height but not when Yellow's wearing her heels

(Not my quote) Blue fell first, Yellow fell harder

Blue likes comfort, Yellow's down for fashion

Blue is a goddess of gymnastics, usually makes Yellow exercise with her. Yellow is... really bad at it

Both loved sleeping since era 3. Especially on Blues clouds. Especially together

Blue loves human tv-dramas. Yellow pretends to not

"Yellow's a complete dumbass when it comes to Blue"—White just censored this word

Yellow is aware of Blue having the panic attacks sometimes and she knows how to act

When Blue's in anger Yellow is scared as a little kitten

Blue always steals her clothing

Yellow don't like showing affection in public but doesn't care if she's caught in the middle of making out

✨️Green✨️

Yellow studied a lot about about Blues home planet bc she couldn't wait to meet the new gem

Blue would often forcefully make Yellow stop doing her work to get rest

Sometimes Yellow shows the true knight behavior™️ towards Blue

Yellow's getting tickled easily and Blue KNOWS it >:)

Training fights! Never have a mercy on each others

Usually venting to each other about others. Venting to White and Spinel about each other

Sometimes being a toxic duo

Singing together a lot

Yellow's a cat person

Dancing together, their favorite dances are valtz, tango and rumba

Whenever they're fighting they never think about breaking up

Yellow likes to carry Blue in her hands

Yellow usually thinking about Blue when hearing love songs and she HATES it

Yellow with back pains mhm

Still have their extraction chambers, love hanging out there. Combing each other's hair.

Tissues for Blue!

Love dating in the special places

...Sorry, lazy to think of more

[fireopal-tash]

Spinel with her hair down UwU 💕

Click the image for better quality!

[fallenpetalau]

i got a little distracted with making these little gems and backstories that go with them 😭 I'm back on the comic! I promise!

I kept the circus/clown theme i felt our Spinel had, so Yellow is a Sword Swallower, Blue is a Juggler and White is a Pierrot. All of these Spinels are part of troupes - having at least 10-20 of their same gems alongside them while our Pink Spinel is a one-of-a-kind.

Yellow Spinel snaps just like in canon. Except she attacks the colony where her Olivine resides and destroys stuff. Blue Spinel runs away and lets herself corrupt and disappears in the wilderness of a planet near a colony. And White Spinel gets shattered the instant that the fun moment is over. She gets harvested and recycled into remaking new White Spinels

ETA Image Description

[Image Description: Three pictures, each depicting a different circus themed character in the style of Steven Universe.

Image 1 is of a Yellow Spinel proudly holding a sword. She has twin vertical pigtails tied at the end, a yellow court jester themed outfit and a large white Ruff collar that leads to pants that poof out with diamonds on her thigh and solid color to her shoes. Surrounding her is different depictions of herself in various poses, bowing, a size comparison to her diamond, Yellow, and on of her in a state of anger, large black drops overtake much of her outfit and her collar is tattered and stained. Instead of her usual outfit, her goofy pants were replaced with a too-tall alternative that rose past her stomach and only ended at the start of her shirt. Her hair is messed up and her gem is upside down.

Image 2 is of a cat themed Blue Spinel, she acts as a juggler and is noticeably taller than a regular Spinel. Her two-pointed hat moves to her emotions like it were actually a cat's ears. Her arms are made of bicolor streams of ribbon, blue and white alternating and look like baggy sleeves but can be used outside of being as an arm. She has a black upper lip and white lower lip with white upside down drops on her eyelid acting as face makeup. The collar of her outfit and the decoration around her hip is sharper looking than Yellow Spinel's, jutting out and up in multiple points. Also surrounding her is other depictions of her, one holding her juggling pins, one of her crying due to Blue Diamond's oppressive power and three of her corrupted form as a Panther-like creature. It's blue with dark blue teeth, white under the eyes and like a tiger- has two fake eyes imaged on the fur of the back of its ears- it has two sets of ears and two extra limbs on it's shoulders that act similar to the destructive claws of the Mantis Shrimp and is aggressively solitary.

Image 3 is of a White Spinel , much smaller than the other two, both in gem size and in body size and almost completely white in front of a slightly-lit black background. Her gem is the size of a pupil and lacks pigmentation - being almost solid white itself. Her gem is in place of her pupil on her eyeball and she would be only half of Steven's height if lined up next to him with her hat making up the difference. She is an old-fashioned mime themed with a tall cap with black pompoms, a soft two-layered Ruff draping around her neck and a baggy jumper with a simple cord tying the loose fabric close to her form. There are triangles on top and bottom lid that fit together to make black diamonds on her face and each have a small black dot at the outer point of it. ]

I've never written an image description for my art before, I hope it's understandable haha😄

[shokotartitas]

Spinel x Fem!reader

"I miss you"

You were in your room quietly in your apartment, You felt a little lonely, You were with your little Eevee in your bed, you knew about Spinel's work.

-Uhm... He'll come see me today...?-

-Evoi...- Eevee said sadly seeing your gaze.

You got up from your bed and left Eevee there, you went out to your small kitchen to prepare some tea, you hadn't even had lunch yet.

.

It was around 5:34 in the afternoon.

-He must be very busy, but...-

-I need your attention... God...-

You left the kettle on.

You grabbed your smartrotom.

-Uhm?-

There seemed to be a message.

You opened the message and it said...

-Im coming, little girl-

You smiled when you saw the message and ran to your room putting on something decent but how, Eevee looked at you curiously.

-Evoi!-

Then you petted eevee.

-Eevee, Today you will be able to see Umbreon!-

Eevee has sparkles in its eyes.

Certainly Eevee wants to become as powerful as Umbreon, and Spinel is very gentle with it.

You smiled softly as you put on a pair of loose, comfortable pants, a shirt, and a sweatshirt of a little and cute Pichu!

knocked on the door.

-Will be him?- I said excitedly and ran out of my room and Eevee followed me.

I opened the door and felt his gaze on my face and his Umbreon approaching eevee.

-Good afternoon- Spinel said as she approached and kissed you softly.

You blushed a little.

-Haai...- You said shyly as he closed the door and hugged you.

Actually, you hadn't told him about your situation, so... Normal, right?

-Sorry for my delay, darling-

-The truth is I'm frustrated... That brat managed to take the collar off...-

You looked at him in surprise.

-How? But... In the morning we talked and you told me that you already had it in a box and... Ah?- You made a confused face.

-well... Apparently, when that necklace is near her, it automatically goes towards her, and a giant Pokémon came out, which took her and her friends...-

-So the mission will be a little complicated-

-I don't want to do the same thing as that stupid Amethio-

-H-hey, it's okay- You said while hugging him.

-I feel stressed damn it...- he said Corresponding your hug.

-Okay, relax, what do you want me to do? I want to help you... Besides, I'd like to spend more time with you...-

You settled down on the couch, shyly sitting on his lap.

Spinel was surprised, but he didn't complain, you were mostly too shy even for that, so he hugged you, and because you were so small next to him, he put you on his chest, caressing your hair.

-And this? Your shyness is gone, huh~?-

You blushed a little.

-I just want to help...-

-There are many ways, and you are doing another one, Pressed into my lap.-

-Is it okay with you... To do... That?-

-Pretty, sorry if the question makes you uncomfortable, maybe it will help me relax, if you don't want it's okay, I understand-

His voice was cut off by a kiss from you.

-U-uh?!-

He was surprised by the suddenness, but he followed it, grabbing your waist with one hand and the other intertwining our hands.

-It's strange to see you being like this with me, darling.-

-I'm not complaining, eh~-

.

.

.

[ilikeapples01]

Family is everything (all hail empress pink au) (art by kishinpain)

Times like this were rare to say the least. So often was Empress Pink at war so far from her children be it in orbit or on the ground, and so often was she… otherwise occupied with one or several of her extensive harem, and in the times she was neither she was tied down with the red tape of punishing those who had wronged the empire or by what was to her meaningless meetings and bureaucracy.

But not today. Today was the first of several that Pink Diamond had expressly put aside, cleared out, and walled off from anyone she deemed ‘too work-y’, and she was going to spend it with her children. After all, what kind of a parent would she be if she didn’t spend time with her own kin? They’re all her responsibility after all, and after the stress of a deluge of complaints her Prime Minister had championed for some reason what better way to clear her mind was there but to ignore him for at least a week?

Little Moissanite giggled in childlike glee as her mother - father really but none would dare say as much - ruffled her hair. Just a couple days ago she hatched from the latest of White’s geodes and just look at the rambunctious little bundle of light grow! It lightened Pink’s gem to be here for these moments when so often she would miss them. Other children of hers played with Spinel behind her; some sort of ‘tag’ she assumed given the joyful cries and cheers. The bigger Moissanite was glad for her mother’s good mood, pleased as punch that for once she could have some semblance of family life for once. If only her other mother could be here, but no matter. “It’s taken me a good while, but I’ve finally gotten the last of those twists in your hair out, ma,” she announced. “Do you like it? If you ever want my help with it again, or even just a trim, please do tell me.”

Moments like these were everything Pink strove for, that peace in her life she once resigned herself to go without was here and she would savour every moment of it so help her… her, really. “Of course, Moissi,” Pink agreed with a calm that was so rare to her these days. “Though perhaps you ought to practise on Brigadier Lapis, she’s really let herself go!” she gossipped.

“Oh?” Such open talk of her mother’s lovers was certainly a surprise for Moissanite. “What makes you say that, ma?”

Pink huffed amusedly as if it were obvious. “Trust me, she’s really let herself go. Her hair is ragged as the Hattiland - and her victims leave a lot of stains. You can certainly cut hair, but can you wash it too?”

“I wann’ be like Lapis,” little Moissi blurted out, interrupting in a lull. “I wan-na beat up bad guys an’ get their mess in my hair too!” Her innocent upwards smile contrasted completely with her violence, like she didn’t understand even a little bit exactly what she said really meant.

“Um… Why… is that, darling?” Pink had to ask, a little perturbed.

“B’cause then Mwah-see can wash and cut my hair too!” little Moissanite beamed, earning herself a chuckle and a shaking head from her mother.

“Oh darlin’!” the elder Moissanite cried out, “You don’t need to get yourself all messy for that! I can take care of your hair right now if y’ like - with your blessin’, ma?”

Pink nodded her assent, and took a moment to realise that meant taking her hand out her daughter’s hair. In a few short days she’d be just grown up as her hairdresser, but that’s what made here and now so important. The rare times like these remind her of why she does all that she does. It’s not just for her own sake, but for everyone’s, and that’s what she remembers here, that crucial lesson that keeps her grounded enough to actually rule:

Family is Everything.

[from-memphis-with-love]

Gambling on Your Love - Ch. 5

Summary: A fishing trip. Stargazing. Whispered conversations about the future. And then a home invasion, ransacked apartment, and a stolen diary filled with personal secrets. Meanwhile, Elvis, ensnared in his feelings for Francesca and entangled in his own set of professional obligations, grapples with the revelations from Francesca's past exposed by the media and the looming reshoots for their film. Catch up with the previous chapters here: one, two, three, and four. Word count: 8,100 Warnings: Explicit sexual content; emotional and psychological distress; harassment; media and public scrutiny.

Francesca was an angel in the morning mountain sunlight. It threaded through her hair like his fingers, lovingly and gentle. She murmured something in her sleep, her plump lips parting. She giggled, curling into his chest, her hand splayed over his heart. Elvis could watch her for hours like this, perfectly at rest without any worries in her beautiful head. He stroked her hair and she blew out a breath that tousled his bangs.

There were things he didn’t know how to express to her, things he wanted to just keep to himself until he had the right words. 

Try as he might not to wake her up, she was a light sleeper and roused when he shifted his weight but fell back against the spread of blankets for another round. But not before she sighed his name, reaching limply for him.

They had to return back at some point; he’d promised her it’d just be for the weekend. He wasn’t making her stay if she didn’t want to. He watched her last night, looking over her shoulder from time to time. And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed the camera flashes in the indistinct crowd. Press? Paparazzi? Had had told no one, trusted his crew. They would never betray him like that.  

It didn’t matter. This moment was theirs, a stolen slice of time he wanted to hold onto for just a little bit longer. Last night, she talked about New York, hinted at him coming to visit her family. The thought scared him. Why? He feared exposing her to his world and the judgments and expectations that would inevitably follow.

They spent another beautiful day here—he’d all but pleaded with her to stay just a little longer. He took her up to the wide mouth creek where the bass were jumping upstream in full view, and she mentioned how some of her fondest memories were fishing on Long Island with her dad during early summer mornings. How her pole would arch and she’d pull back on her little heels until her shoulders were almost touching the ground, determined to reel her catch in. But here, he just held her chilly hand close. Together, they strolled to the water's edge. The creek's clarity revealed the smooth, worn stones below, shimmering under the water’s surface, a ballet of light and drifting leaves.

“Oh, hello, I see you there,” Frannie said, crouching in the shoal and plucking out a tiny red spinel, rolling it between thumb and forefinger. Then she plucked another and another, coming out with a handful of glimmering, wet stones that she held up to the sun with pride. She saw things here that he never would have noticed, right under his nose.

That night, they listened to the haunting calls of owls under a star-filled sky. Frannie, with a blanket draped around her shoulders, rested her head against Elvis. Together, they lounged on the porch, their eyes wandering across the woods where rabbits darted in the shadows at the property's edge.

It was easy to imagine a life here together. If only...

As if reading his mind, Frannie lured Elvis back to reality. “We gotta leave in the morning,” she whispered, even though there was no reason to keep her voice so low. Maybe she didn't want to speak those words aloud, hesitant to acknowledge the end of their domestic bliss and the warm embrace of the secluded mountain down. It almost felt like they were at a crossroads, confronted with choosing to publicize their relationship or continue to keep it low key.

He knew she wanted to play it safe. But he was willing to risk it all, damn the consequences. A flash of Colonel Parker, pissed beyond all reason, blipped in his mind. He was going to be angry as hell that Elvis all but blew him off. He was pretty much guaranteed to get shackled into some cheese-fest of a flick now. The Colonel was big on getting his way, but at least he was leaving the set soon. Not that Elvis wouldn’t be following behind him shortly. He couldn’t stay away from his other engagements much longer.

It would certainly complicate things if their relationship went to the next level. It wouldn’t go unnoticed by the general public for long that the two of them were an item. All the same, Elvis didn’t want to keep sequestering her away and doing private, secretive things. They were nice of course, but he couldn’t even take her to a movie. He couldn’t kiss her in public, couldn’t so much as hold her hand without scandalizing her. Because it wouldn’t be about Francesca alone anymore, it would be about Elvis Presley’s gal pal, the one that broke ten million hearts. 

When they got back, maybe he could make it official, but for now…

“What’s underneath that blanket, Chess?” He teased, brushing back some of her dark hair from her slender neck. She always reacted to his touch like a kitten leaning into petting. Now she purred, turning to him, with her back to the night and her hands clutching the afghan. Before he could register what she was about to do, Frannie peeked it open to reveal a breathtaking set of black lingerie he’d never seen before. He exhaled sharply, raking his eyes hungrily over sheer black lace cups glinting with rhinestones, tied prettily behind her neck. Matching panties left little to the imagination and paired with thigh high hosiery that look as if she’d been poured into them.

Elvis pulled her into him, closing the distance with an impatient yank. She gasped, hands up before they landed on his shoulders. Running her fingers along the sensitive back of his neck, she let the blanket fall completely around her feet, saying in his neck, “Do you like it?”

His mouth was too dry to answer and he had to swallow, the sound high-pitched in his throat. He couldn’t get her close enough to him, but as much as he enjoyed the thrill of being outdoors, something told him he was better off bringing her inside for proper tending to.

She was asking for it, playing a dangerous game dressed like this. She must have packed this deep because he hadn’t caught a glimpse of this when she took things out of her suitcase.

Hoisting her up bridal style with her lithe legs tossed over his arm, he carried her back into the cabin and laid her down by the fire, licking her neck and resisting the urge to leave a bite, make a mark on her. But he couldn’t do that to her until she asked for it, almost like she was now, arching up into him, clinging to him while making the sweetest of noises.

“Ahh… your mouth feels so good,” Francesca sighed, her head tossed to the side, sprawling out her luscious mane. She was too much for him to bear sometimes. 

There was a different energy this time. He wondered if she wanted him fully. When he’d teased her all last night, she’d mewled for more, responding like a dream and coming in his hand. She was made for him and driving him crazy. When he touched her, she flowered, opening up for him and letting him pleasure her. She was such a well-spoken, self-possessed woman. Playful, smart, funny. But seeing her like this, vulnerable and amorous, it was enough to drive him over the edge.

He needed to kiss her, to feel her lips against his. They fit so flawlessly together. She tasted divine, opening her mouth to let his tongue play with hers. She might’ve had experience, but he could tell when he surprised her with something new. When he rubbed her clit slowly with the tips of his index and middle finger—keeping the same pace, even when she squirmed and mewled—he relished in watching her eyes flutter shut. She was enjoying herself, massaging her breasts and setting him on fire. He replaced her hand with his, groping while stroking her through her panties.

Frannie’s face, he couldn’t look away. What a marvel. He couldn’t bear to lose her. A darker part of him wanted her obsessed, thinking of him, needing him, longing only for him. If he consumed her, she’d never want another. He’d always be what she wanted. As of late, his core of desire had been Francesca and only Francesca. Like the goddess Venus, enigmatic and synonymous with sensuality. Her laughter, her scent, the fire in her eyes, her presence left him heated and bothered. She tore him up inside and out and didn’t even need to try to ruin him.

“Fraaaan,” he moaned her name with desperation. He remembered her words from before very clearly. No sex. But what about now? How about just a little sex? If he could just slide the tip inside and show her a good time. Just imagining her tight, sleeved around him made his hips spasm, bucking forward. He nestled between her thighs, feeling them squeeze him, hug him. “I want you more than anything.”

Never had he meant something more. Elvis wanted her so badly it was all he could ever think about. If she was scared that he would hurt her, he needed to show her otherwise, because nothing mattered more. 

But right now, she looked distraught, her enchanting eyes gazing up at him with uncertainty, resolve, desire. He saw it all in her face, the indecision towards taking that leap with him.

“I’m just scared.” She admitted, her voice shaken as she held onto him tighter, burying her face in his neck so that he couldn’t see her ragged expression. “You’re so important to me and I just don’t want to lose you. I don’t want to ruin this. I just... I want us to work.”

He wanted her. It was new and exciting but equally as frustrating, burning for her. The pressure he'd put on her by just presenting his desire was always in the back of his mind, like a mental block he couldn't get past. How far was too far? Was he just driving her crazy too? Maybe she just needed him to make the decision for her.

"Let me take care of you," he breathed into her neck, tucking her snuggly against him. If he riled her up enough, stirred the pot till it was frothing, she'd cleave to him. "Just let yourself go, baby." He meant for those words to free her, unshackle them both. He felt like a young kid sneaking kisses on a girl's front porch, hoping her dad didn't hear the peck of their lips. 

Francesca wanted him. It was in her every sigh and slow blink, in every caress. Her body opened up for him. 

He nuzzled against her breasts, biting the lingerie with his teeth, gazing up at her while he peeled the fabric. Her nipples puckered, her skin flushed with heat. She tasted delicious when he took one stiff peak into his mouth to suckle. Cradling the back of his head, she held him against her chest, the hum of her moans sending vibrations through him. He was rock hard, grinding against her to stem some of the mounting pressure.

Frannie looked a vision beneath him, shaking while he touched her. She'd been waiting on this just as long, just as voraciously as him. He could see the hunger in her eyes. 

There was a pin drop silence when sat up to take off his shirt. He felt cold in the absence of her flesh and pressed back down, feeling their bare skin melding. It had begun to snow outside, tiny shadows falling like rain outside the window. 

Frannie's breath hitched as he leaned in, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. The taste of desire lingered, a sweet and fervent reminder of the moments leading up to this. The room seemed to contract, the world outside fading away as they surrendered to the warmth that pulsed between them.

"When do you ever find the time to work on this, I wonder?" Frannie trapezed her fingers against the taut core of his stomach, darkly dusted in hair. She followed that trail down to his trousers, hooking in to have a peek inside. It drove him wild to see her eyes glaze over and her lashes flutter.

He took her wrist and pressed her palm against his crotch, groaning at the contact. She watched his reaction to her hungrily as she started to rub him, shyly at first before slowly turning bolder the stronger her desire grew. It wasn't her first time seeing it, but she acted like it—gently surprised, brows raised. Daintily, the tips of her fingers touched the swollen head and he hissed, shaft bobbing. She laughed, touching it again, grabbing it when it jumped into her hand.

Elvis wanted to encourage her, he wanted to see her let completely loose, throw caution to the wind. He wouldn't hurt her.

He kissed her, slipping his tongue against hers while she stroked him, pumping him with purpose. His hips spurred with the end of each tug, pushing him further into her tight fist. She held his life in her pretty little hands. 

When he glanced up at her expression, she was a vixen, devilishly enjoying the control she had over him. He'd relinquish it all to her, all she had to do was ask.

When she cupped his heavy stones he saw stars, buckling with a strained groan. She had more passion in her wrist than most women had in their entire bodies. He'd been with women who tossed their hands up and lazily laid back with a placid smile, legs spread while he did all the work. But just her smooth, dry hand was enough to have him shaking and sweating in her arms. She just did it for him; hell, she could probably hit him with a rolled up newspaper and he'd still spill his load.

He'd been dreaming about this, holding her in his arms and taking her like this, hearing her soft cries in his ears, feeling her wrapped tenderly around him like she was scared she'd lose him. If he could have her begging, then he’d know. Maybe she already was in this way.

“Hey,” she gently caught his attention, getting him out of his head. “I’ve always wanted to try something, but I never knew how to ask.”

Frannie bit her lip and her eyes fell to his shaft then back up to his face. He knew exactly what she wanted without her ever having to ask.

He was awestruck, not really knowing how to respond that a woman like Frannie would want to get on her knees and service him like that. She was naughtier than he’d imagined, with willing eagerness to perform. Who was he to curb her enthusiasm?

She rose to a sitting position, tucking her knees beneath her, sweeping her hair out of her face and over her shoulder. Scooting close, she took him in her hand, stroking the thick underside vein with her thumb, whirling the pad of her finger. He shuddered, watching her slickly massage a welled-up bead of glistening natural lubrication into his broad crown.

“Frannie—,” he uttered her name like a curse, his hips shooting forward like an untrained virgin. Her breasts were pushed into his chest. He could feel her heartbeat pounding while she gazed at the stroke of her hand. Then she began to humble herself low, low, lower until his cock was poised at her fine red lips and he felt a bundle of heat at his spine, tightening his chest, locking his jaw. He could forget how to breathe.

Her pink tongue darted out first, tasting him, humming like she enjoyed it. His shaking hands fell onto her lush hair. He couldn’t resist the urge to feed her more. With her hand wrapped snugly around the base, pumping him in quick strokes while she flicked her tongue, his toes curled. She was going to suck the life out of him. Taking him halfway, he had to warn her that he was going to embarrass himself if she didn’t ease up.

The look on her face, wide eyes peering up at him beneath her lashes, was enough to push him over the edge. He couldn’t stop thinking about her climax first. If he wound her up, had her trembling in his palms, she would beg for it then.

With so much left that Elvis wanted to do to her, he nudged her back so that he might return the favor and spread her beneath him just like he’d fantasized about; lots of cold showers and tented bed sheets spent thinking about her luscious body. She was so perfectly made for him, fitting in every way. 

With nimble kisses, he worshiped her long legs lovingly as he draped them over his shoulders, peering deep into pink, feminine flesh framed by a thatch of dark, wet curls. She was so erotic. At first he thought she was trying to cover herself out of modesty, until she began to play with herself. He was stunned, watching her take her delicate middle finger and push up against her clit, swirling it lazily while watching him with those sweet eyes. From this close, he could see her walls flutter, pleading for something to cling to. He touched her before feeding one digit inside and devouring her throaty cry. She was blistering hot, tight and convulsing around him. He stirred, feeling her clamp hard enough to bruise and his cock twitched. He wasn’t going to make it out alive.

Never had a woman aroused him so thoroughly. He was in a fever dream of lust, greedily grabbing the flesh of her thighs while he parted them further. He moved away her hand, telling her hoarsely, “Let me.”

She nodded, obliging and completely melting against him. When his mouth met her inner thigh, she sounded shocked, inhaling sharply, back arching as she grabbed a handful of his hair. He must be doing something right. Sticking to her own rhythm, what she’d displayed moments ago, he kissed a trail to her secret spot. Finally, he gave it to her nice and slow, pushing hard on her and not letting up, not slowing down but not amping up the pace. He was going to draw this out until she whimpered for him, or until he was whimpering for her— whichever happened first was no consequence to him. He was finally going to have her. Finally make love with his Frannie.

As his tongue worked tirelessly on her clit, he gave her a second finger, curling them ever so slightly to stroke her from the inside. He watched as her hips rose to meet him, grinding rhythmically to catch his tongue against her. She was adorable with her eyes squeezed shut and her brows knitted together. Her hands traced the silhouette of her body, like she followed the flow of charged energy coursing through her. Her moans threaded into melodic sound, music to his ears. Until she wasn’t even making a sound, her mouth opening on a noiseless cry. He felt the greedy tugs of her orgasm on his fingers but he denied her—taking them from her in one cruel motion.

“Noo—!” She whined, grabbing for him, her hips thrusting up. “Ah! Why’d you—why’d you stop?” Her pout was precious, stray strands of ebony hair blown across her flushed cheeks and half lidded eyes.

Elvis smirked. Because he wanted her to be atavistic, mindless for it. Undeniably his. His look must have said it all because she spread herself with her fingers and asked him, “Please, Elvis.”

His mouth ran dry. “Please, what?” He had to hear her say it. He was starving but he’d been patient; she was worth his lifetime wait for. But he was tired of Everything But—he wanted her body to remember the shape of his. 

When he adjusted his position so that his hips were wedged between hers, he swept back her hair and kissed her. Luring it right out of her.

“Fuck me.”

She didn’t need to ask him twice. He was going to give her every piece of him. He would worship her, with this, his first act of prostration.

“Francesca…” He said her name the same way he’d say “I love you.” She must have felt this, too, as she cradled his face in her loving hands, sweeping her thumbs along his cheeks. When she kissed him, he could feel every bit of her affection poured into the press of her lips. Never had he felt more adored, more loved in his entire life than when she looked at him.

He guided himself to her core, felt the giving wetness between her plush thighs. A crueler part of himself said to indulge and to hilt deep with one slam, groan hotly in her ear about how tight she felt. He could feel himself drawing up before he’d even wedged the head inside and all of her delicious sounds were not helping his restraint. Her pussy was melting around him. He couldn’t move without moaning loudly. 

“Ah hah—” His hips buckled and he saw his life flash before his eyes. 

Frannie’s body felt so good in his hands, he couldn’t get enough of her. Inch by decadence inch he managed to plunge to the base, but any movement and he was a goner. Now with her wringing him, her legs hugging him into her, he couldn’t stop his hips. Pulling out midway only to sink back in felt like raw heaven, his head rolled back and he did it again and again, luxuriating in the silken slip. In and out, he was pushing harder than he ought to, his thighs slapping against hers with a quickness. He somehow managed to slow his roll and isolate all movement into just the gyrating thrust of his hips. Now he could really fuck her in earnest, string out her wild moans and make her his—all his.

Francesca couldn’t keep up with him. He was voracious. Kissing her here, groping her there. Now he was making desperate love to her with such intensity that she thought she might faint. Her legs clamped around him, her ankles locked behind his back. She gripped onto his broad shoulders, inhaling his scent mingling with hers.

She was so full of him she thought she might pass out. 

In truth, she’d every intention of giving this to him the night before—but something made her choke up. That something might’ve been her fear of commitment. Commitment to the wrong man. Although, in every single aspect, Elvis Presely so was the right man for her. He was charming, funny, generous, smoldering, spontaneous. Everything she could ever ask for not just in a lover but a companion—a friend. He meant so much to her. And that’s why she was terrified of becoming another notch in his belt, another fun fling for him to conquer and cruise somewhere else. 

She’d agonized over her own indecision. To her, sex certainly could be fun. To her, sex was just another coupling activity that lovers joined to deepen their bonds. She respected the sanctity of marriage but to say she wasn’t a modern woman in every sense of the word would be a slap in the face to her religious mother, God rest her soul.

If she could strip away her titles to just be Francesca Ferrara, not an acclaimed actress and singer, but just a woman consummating her affections for someone she cared deeply about… well, she would have been getting up to something like this a long time ago with him. Of course she wanted him. He plagued her dreams, infected her fantasies. So many nights she’d turned to hug a pillow with one of his shirts in lieu of his warm, hard body. For too long she’d denied herself and him this most basic of human necessities. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t an even trade for fame if it meant she could never make the mistake of falling in love.

Like this, with Elvis above her, inside of her, all else fell away in his embrace and she felt safe in this decision, to give him this trust. To give him her heart, body and soul.

I’m in love with you, Elvis Presley, she thought but did not say. Instead, she conveyed it in long, slow kisses while he made love to her. He never lost his gentleness, even in his unhinged foray where he couldn’t seem to get into her quick enough. 

The passion in the press of his body set her on fire and she cleaved to him. They were moving in tandem, her hips rolling up to meet his. Tension pooled white hot in her belly. He felt her tighten up on him and got that evil look on his face again, that wicked smile that said he knew exactly what she wanted, but he wasn’t going to give it to her yet.

“Hold me,” Frannie whimpered, digging her nails into his back, making marks along his spine. He happily obliged, enshrouding her in his sturdy arms, lifting her up so that she was nestled in his lap while he drilled into her. She couldn’t string together a coherent sentence let alone a thought. Heat washed over her in waves until she was burning, holding onto him for anchorage as her climax spiraled. 

What happened next was entirely unprecedented, planned or even warranted and she’d probably be regretting it heavily every second afterwards. He didn’t ask, but she wasn’t about to refuse. She couldn’t release him if she wanted to. Her body was moving all on its own accord, giving either of them little reprieve. 

“Elvis,” she panted, kissing him, keeping him in her arms, locking tightly around him. There were spots in her vision, she couldn’t see clearly when the pressure began to climb. A rush of warmth flooded her veins, she could hear her heartbeat pounding in her ears. He was fucking her deeply, crooning to the rafters. Gripping her, shoving hard, she felt him swell inside of her.

His fingers laced between hers and he kissed her, pouring into her in shaky thrusts. So much that it spilled, trickling messily between them.

He was gasping, his mussed hair all out of place, the apples of his cheeks in full blush, a lackadaisy smile plastered across his handsome face. Perfection personified, handmade just for her. They were bound for one another, this she knew.

The regret didn’t knock, but he did apologize to her while kissing her damp forehead, “Frannie, ‘m sorry. I-I shouldn’t have done that.”

She didn’t need an apology when there wasn’t any wrongdoing. She’d wanted that just as badly as him. Even still, with her body thrumming from a toe-curling orgasm, she wasn’t fully satisfied yet. And by the looks of the snow steadily piling up outside, they were going to be here for a while longer.

They had nothing but time and a lot of physical catching up to do. She was kicking herself for not allowing herself this so much sooner. She’d been abstinent, damn near chaste, trying her best not to think about his lean hips on set gyrating between her legs instead, or those hands that tickled the ivories and plucked the guitar, making her sing instead.

She sighed contentedly, opening her arms to him and letting him lay his handsome face across her bosom. He was sweetly vulnerable like this, his ear cupped over her heart. He held onto her breast and breathed evenly, going still and quiet until she almost thought he’d fallen asleep.

The heaven’s themselves hadn’t ripped open. There weren’t paparazzi at the window snapping candid shots. Her agent wasn’t beating down the door demanding to know where she’d gone off to. The world wasn’t going to end because she let loose and enjoyed herself. He wasn’t a fling. He was her loyal heart, even if only for a little while. 

Frannie might be in love with him, but she wouldn’t let him know that. Maybe it was selfishness, or maybe just raw competitiveness—but she wanted to hear him say it first, full and true. But if she was being honest with herself, at this point, she might not even need to hear it. Because she felt it in every gift, every kiss, every lingering glance.

That night, they laid out under the stars on the deck and made love. They made love in the jacuzzi. On the kitchen counter. The living room. The bedroom. She was fed in excess every bit of passion that she’d been fasting. No one had ever been so attentive with her body, with her needs before. It was almost frightening how well he touched her. Like he knew exactly what she needed to push her over the edge. She got wet so easily for him, a quivering mess in his hands with just a little kissing and deep petting. He took full advantage, letting it fluff his ego how readily she accepted him.

When the next morning crested and the frost finally melted enough for them to safely travel the roads, Francesca and Elvis loaded up, making the long trip to Vegas. Where the road seemed eaten up twice as fast as the journey up the mountain. She was going to miss the mountains so much. They had to come back in the summer. 

Francesca felt refreshed for the first time in years. She'd hardly slept at all while on their lovers’ jaunt, but she was glowing, absolutely primed and feeling adored to the maxim. Riding home to her apartment, she felt like a new woman. He wanted her to come with him to Los Angeles on weekends. It was exciting, but she didn't know what to think about it. It would put her closer to him, but it would take her away from what she'd grown familiar with—not including Elvis Presley. Who was in himself a pretty tempting offer.

Her doorman greeted her with a tilt of his hat, cufflinks glinting. 

"Ma'am. We tried to reach you but when we called your agent he didn't know where you were either."

She looked at him, puzzled, her smile dissipating somewhat. Now she had a bad, looming feeling blanketing her.

"What's wrong?"

Bennington bit his lip, shifting his weight. "When I went to feed your cat, she was hiding terrified in your closet. That's when I realized she was scared because… someone broke in, Ms. Ferrara. It's ransacked a—a bit," He floundered, stuttering when her expression fell to horror.

"Oh my God." This couldn't be happening. "Well, what did they take?" Not that Bennington would know everything she owned. Things she had bought with her own hard-earned money. Things she'd been lovingly gifted from Elvis. 

"That's just it, ma'am. A… a lot of things are broken. Picture frames, windows—but we've had them fixed and after the police came, well, they said it was okay for us to start picking up the pieces again but as far as they could tell, nothing was taken. Your jewelry box was open but all the little velvet indents were accounted for."

A cold realization struck, pitting in her stomach like a bad seed. 

"Everything was just kind of," he rolled his hand, "trashed. Like someone was just trying to make a mess." He winced, sensing he was just salting the fresh wound. 

"I can't believe this," Frannie trailed, numbly stepping past him but still thanking him for taking the time to tell her. "I appreciate it, Bennington."

"No need to thank me, ma'am."

The sweet girl behind the front desk had a pitying look as Frannie went blazing by, pushing the elevator button until it whisked her up towards her violated apartment. The door belied total chaos as when she made her way inside, she could see the true devastation that'd been wrought. Bless Bennington’s heart for trying to rearrange things once more, but whoever had broken in had taken a knife to her beautiful French settee. It was gored like a stuck pig, bleeding feathers and cotton. It was a tragedy, and it only continued to worsen. Every frame of every photo was broken, the glass cracked or missing entirely. Her shag carpet had been rolled up in the corner with a coffee filter taped to it that read "Glass inside.”

Her kitchen had been methodically destroyed: copper swiped from her oven and from the counter backsplash, the crystal fixtures shattered one by one. The trash was empty and when she checked inside the barren fridge and pantry, she understood why. The intruder must have destroyed her food as well.

Her bed was stripped, the walls were cut and painted with words. TRAMP. WHORE.

Frannie had to sit down, avoiding the spears that'd once been her four-poster bed frame, fit for a queen with pretty lace hung up, now all in shreds. She didn't bother looking in her closet, but she could see most of its contents spilled out into the floor, drenched in red paint. 

This attack had been personal.

And she didn't know why the thought crossed her mind, as she hadn't touched it in a few months, but she checked her surprisingly untouched bedside table and slid open the drawer. Her heart sank. Her diary was gone.

She checked again, fishing around in the unfinished wood but grasped nothing. The culprit had made sure to not take anything of conventional value so that the police wouldn't be obligated to get involved any further.

Looking at the scrawls of hate on her walls, she had to wonder if a jilted lover could have been the one to do this. But the timing and the explanation seemed too convenient. Just when she was going away for a clandestine vacation with her secret romantic interest, someone breaks in through the fire exit, absolutely trashes the place, scares her cat shitless, breaks anything of sentimental value, doesn't take any jewelry, luxury clothes, shoes, or handbags, but steals her diary. Her most personal thoughts all laid out from childhood to well, probably right around the time she started filming for Gambling on Your Love.

There were things in there that even her sister Connie didn't know, things that she wasn't ashamed of, but knew could tarnish her reputation. Things were different when she was younger and one of the easiest ways for a girl to make money in show business at the time was to perform at Burlesque shoes. Something she wasn't exactly proud of, but she damn sure wasn't going to be shamed for. It had fed her and her family when she sent money back home. She'd established connections and it was Dominick who'd been the final rung in her ladder to step her into the big leagues. Her first radio commercial changed everything. It'd been that shining beacon, that ray of sunshine, that pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Fantasy made fiercely palpable reality. To have it threatened by the biases of ignorant men and women who had no idea what it was like growing up hard, it enraged her.

She stood up and looked at her fractured reflection in the broken cheval glass, resolved to find answers. But first, she was calling a painter. She'd always wanted a mural on her bedroom wall anyway.

*

Elvis couldn’t stop thinking about seeing her again. He was hours away from her in LA but nothing an overnight trip couldn’t fix. He called her every night. It’d only been three days and he was planning the weekend with her. They had a press junket the next Tuesday and maybe being pent up to hell wouldn’t be the best covert look for an on-screen interview. He wasn’t embarrassed to admit he’d started collecting newspaper clippings of her, articles that mentioned her, any snippets he could get a hold of. He kept them in an envelope. He just liked them.

Colonel Parker was furious he took a trip and with Frannie no less, but that ire must have settled somewhat. He wasn’t making calls or trying to worm Elvis into another shoddy movie with a slapped together script. 

The boys liked it more in Los Angeles. They knew the town better, and even without Elvis glued to them, they were afforded more respect. He wanted their opinion on something. Would it be too soon?

When his phone rang, he answered quickly, expecting, hoping to hear Frannie’s voice on the other side. It was too early, however, and she was visiting a friend in town. It was a woman, but her voice wasn’t all that familiar. Brisk and raspy, through the receiver he heard, “Presley? Elvis Presley?”

“Who’s calling?” He asked, switching the phone to his shoulder to cut bananas for a sandwich.

“It’s me! It’s Cassandra! Your agent’s not an easy man to get in contact with. But I knew I had your personal laying around!” She said in a lurid, sing-song voice. “Okay. Shitty, awful, just terrible news. Well, for me. Not really you guys. You guys get paid again. Hmm. Well, listen, I’m going to need you to come in for a few reshoots.”

“Reshoots?”

“Nothing major, we just need a few transitional scenes. We do need you and Frannie to…” She paused. He could hear her flinching when she said, “Reshoot the casino duet.”

He tossed his knife haphazardly in the sink. He and Frannie had been on fire that day, filming in one clean take. She’d been an angel on set. No need to edit her in post. And now? When he didn’t answer right away, she laid it out bare. “Something happened to a few rolls of film. Thankfully mostly filler got damaged, but it looks like someone tried to…” She trailed, almost like she didn’t want to say it. “Tried to hack it up. My poor baby! Ahh, but what’s art without some sacrifice, right? With all the shit that happened on set,” She inhaled her cigarette, “It’s a wonder we even finished filming.”

“Guess we didn’t,” he teased. There was undeniable excitement in the chance of working with Frannie again, but it was tainted with a twinge of concern. Cassandra was right. Sometimes it amazed him too. He’d heard of greater walking off sets for less. “I’ll be there. When do you need me?”

“Honestly, as soon as possible, but, Francesca hasn’t answered my calls yet. Hm. But, I’ll keep calling her. It’s a pleasure talking hearing from you. Can’t wait to see you again!”

“You, too, Cassandra.” Odd. Usually Dominick made Francesca’s correspondence very accessible. She liked to give everything a chance. Each commercial, endorsement, and role, she meticulously went over the script to see if there was enough value she could gather out of it for herself. She told him she didn’t just want to be in movies, she wanted to star in films. Just like him, really.

He told her that next time they got together, she was going to have to show him every strange black and white foreign film that she liked to watch. He could find value in these things together with her. To say she occupied his thoughts was an understatement. Elvis was infatuated, hook line and sinker. He couldn’t come up for air if he tried, not that he wanted to be anywhere else but falling for her.

Eating his breakfast and flipping through the morning paper—he usually avoided the tabloids, but recently he’d been hunting for Frannie’s name and when he spotted it on the way to the comics—his blood ran cold. But still, he stood up from the table and found a pair of shears. Carefully, he cut out a rectangular article.

Unearthed Confessions ROCK Hollywood’s Darling in Shocking Revelations!

Las Vegas, Nevada - You wouldn’t believe the enigmatic Francesca’s Ferrara’s diary, brimming with tawdry secrets from her rocky past, unleashed to the world! The adored starlet may have tried to leave her gritty origins behind, but her words reveal all! She ignites a media frenzy that threatens to engulf Tinseltown!

Elvis scrubbed his face in his palm, reading over his hand, the words falling like spilled ink, running tracks in his mind. 

Raunchy burlesque Past Revealed!

Mouths are agape at the juicy tidbit that the beloved starlet and songstress once dabbled in the sultry world of burlesque in her early days. She may dazzle under the spotlight, but the pages of her diary tell all her seductive past. Sources say the young actress took to the stage as an alluring dancer, captivating audiences with her body. Was this a calculated step in her journey towards stardom or a torrid secret that could spell disaster for her pristine image?

He set the slip of paper down and contemplated the whirlwind of emotion. Diary? Burlesque? Why had she never told him this? Was she embarrassed to tell him? Scared? Did she know her private thoughts were out there for everyone to read? He couldn’t believe this. Someone must have—must have bugged her apartment or paid a friend for information. It made his stomach churn to think of what she must be feeling right now. And knowing they had a press conference in just under a week, she had to be out of her mind with worry right now.

It didn’t matter how many times he tried, she wouldn’t pick up. He was starting to think the worst. She’d sounded different on the phone when he talked to her the night before, distant, like she was trying to hide something. Maybe she hadn’t wanted him to know, she must have her reasons. But he wouldn’t judge her. Never. 

If she needed another reason to put her trust in him, it would be this right here. He needed to tell Red someone was messing around with Francesca. They were going to get to the bottom of this and find the little rat that did this to her.

*

She was in a maelstrom. On one hand, Dominick was at her behest, trying to assuage any misgivings she had about returning to her apartment. He posted a bodyguard outside her door and apologized for not having done so sooner. Once filming really wrapped up and the movie hit the big screen, time would only tell if she needed to relocate. She hadn’t been covert about where she lived and she didn’t like the idea of living in a gated community; she liked her apartment. But even with just advertisements out to the public, some evenings Francesca would be met by the eager fan with pen and photo for her to sign, and she’d wonder how they knew which apartment building was hers. Maybe it was time for her to go back to New York.

To say she was on edge would be an understatement. And her poor cat was in an absolute fit, still refusing to come out of the closet for anything other than to use the litter and have dinner. It was depressing, sitting in her home still hollow with destruction. She refused to give her things up so quickly, it was her right to grieve them. So be it, if she wanted to sit on her broken settee with a spring jabbing her thigh. It was the first furniture purchase she’d ever made.

She did not want to go out, she did not want to answer the incessant ringing of her phone and horribly so, she did not even want to talk to Elvis. He would hear the dread in her voice and sniff her out in a moment. For all she knew, the press could have gotten hold of her diary. She’d come to the conclusion that that was the reason it’d been taken. Someone wanted to make money off her secrets—or simply to make a mockery of her. She couldn’t bear to turn the radio on or check this morning’s paper. 

But eventually, she had to leave for something. There were no groceries and most of her toiletries had been flushed down the commode. Pallets of makeup cracked and strewn. Her bathroom was a crime scene. At least the painter was coming today, she wanted a nighttime mural of the Nevada desert. Dark orange plateaus jutting up towards the opaque, star-studded heavens. Slowly, things were being replenished. She wouldn’t let this animal make her uncomfortable in her own home.

The phone was ringing, louder than the Bing Crosby record spinning on her new record player. She couldn’t go without music in the drab emptiness. The lack of furniture made it echo so much more. She stared at the pink bakelite, wondering who it could be and if she had the strength to talk to them. But she didn’t answer. She didn’t want to think about anything right now other than what her next move was.

Frannie dressed hastily, donning a head scarf and shades, and as soon as she stepped foot out of the lobby, she instantly regretted her decision. Bennington turned to her with teeth bared in a grimace. Behind him were a drove of a dozen or so members of the press. Casual as they could be when they were all incidentally grouped together, cameras slung around their necks, worn out notepads in their greasy pockets. She froze. Flight or fight response thrummed in her ears. 

“I told them not to bother you, but the most I could do was keep them outside, Ms. Ferrara. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s quite alright. Thank you, Benny,” she whispered, giving a watery smile. “And haven’t I told you time and time again to call me Frannie? You’re one of the last chivalrous men, I swear.” She glowered at the hounds waiting outside, licking their chops. They spotted their prey and although they’d ran her up a tree, they appeared more than willing to wait outside. She knew that she did not owe them a second of her time. She thought of how her words could be misconstrued. Clearly, that’s what they were here for. Never had that many gathered outside of her apartment. As much as she’d liked to attribute it to the movie’s buzz, she knew that whoever had stolen her diary had sold its contents to the highest bidder. 

The idea struck her and perhaps it was a foolish one, but she wouldn’t be bullied. Frannie was undaunted, her shoulders rolled back, her head held high. She marched right out the doors and onto the sidewalk, feeling sunshine on her face breaking through the clouds. It was cold, blustery. The wind whipped her hair from beneath her scarf.

Instead of letting them swarm her, she set out to do her grocery shopping. She had errands to run that were more important than whatever gossip they wanted to print. So, she strutted down the way, fixing her hair and walking without a care while they hurried after her, snapping their photos and screeching. She could hear their loafers scuffing the cement as they pursued.

“Ms. Ferrara! Ms. Ferrara! Were you really a burlesque dancer or are these just rumors from someone claiming to know you?”

“Ms. Ferrara! What do you want to say about the rumors that you and Elvis Presley are romantically involved? Some are saying they spotted you two out on dates together. Is there any reason you don’t want to go public with your relationship?”

Gee, I wonder. Francesca wouldn’t give them the satisfaction. She wielded her anger beautifully and didn’t let it embitter her; rather, it fueled her. She stopped in her tracks and acknowledged the aphids swarming, their blunted pencils at the ready to scrawl down each and every word. Her photo was snapped from all angles, capturing the moment forever. She lowered her shades and locked eyes with the lens. Unabashed.

“Gentlemen,” she cleared her throat. “There isn’t a girl in this country–no, this world–who hasn’t had a past. Anybody who tells you otherwise is lying. So, to answer your question, yes. I’ve had my fair share of challenges, just like countless others. But that does not define who I am today.” 

Francesca felt her words ringing out. She would not be backed into a corner. She would not be made to feel lesser than. She turned on her heels and started down the block. With serene grace, she bid them adieu. “And if you want to print the real story, I was a cocktail waitress, not a dancer. But even if I were a dancer, I still wouldn’t be ashamed. Now, if you will excuse me. I do have places to be.”

[monochromaticwriting]

Ok, this is not what I originally planned, but I think it still came out cute 🩷 Listen, I just wanted to describe clothes, and let Isaac be happy in her own skin for a moment.

It took Isaac many centuries to figure out what Dracul saw in it. Centuries of tearing herself apart, before gentle hands helped her put herself together. Hands that didn't mind if they were cut or stabbed. Hands that held her and comforted her at her worse. Hands that petted her hair and patted her back in congratulations when she succeeded in making another Devil.

Not that those hands hadn't also hurt her. Dracul was an emotionally driven being, and was hurt very easily, despite how he may appear. That cursed Castle had not been helping matters. It was so possessive over him and would sometimes lash out at Isaac for how close the two were. But Isaac stood its ground with the cursed building, and in the end, got Dracul safely outside of the Entity's grip.

Since the Fated Day, Dracul had been watching it. As it walked or talked on the phone. His red eyes always lit up when she was within his eyesight. Even after centuries of being with him, he still made her chest flutter.

It wasn't that surprising why.

It's hair, a healthy, bright red that now reached her mid back, was currently braided over her shoulder. Her eyes were now bright and vibrant, similar in tone to her Brother's golden gaze. Isaac's body was caressed by the gentle lace of her nightgown, long legs and arms on full display, scars and all. She didn't feel so upset by them anymore. They were simply just a part of her now, marks in her story.

It also reminded her that she has put her hair up to get ready for the morning. It had freshly showered and was getting ready for a simple day out with Dracul, but had gotten distracted by seeing itself in the full length mirror of the room. How could it not?

She was beautiful.

Shaking her head, she headed to her closet. The weather had been dreadful the past few days, with a chill in the air that morning. Isaac may not be able to feel the chill as bad anymore, but that didn't mean she didn't get cold. So out came a simple, but cute sweater Alucard had gotten it when Isaac first came out to him.

It was a tan wool sweater, with a cute teddy bear design and white sleeves. The sleeves ended with bear paw pad prints. Despite it hiding her breasts, it was her favorite of her closet, and she just had to match it with some cute bear stockings. Paired with some simple blue palazzo pants and it couldn't resist the ankle high fur boots. Looking at itself in the mirror again, it couldn't stop smiling.

The Doll in the mirror only smiles back at her.

Turning from her image, she sat down by the vanity and turned its lights on. From there, Isaac settled into the same make-up routine she had been doing for nearly six decades: Foundation, highlights, blush, eyebrows, eyeshadow, and mascara. A routine she perfected by now. Last but not least, the lipstick. Isaac had received a few new colors to test out from Dracul, and so far, Black Velvet was its current favorite. A deep black-purple color with a matte finish.

Now came the piercings.

Opening its jewelry box, it pulled out an Opal bridge piercing. It had three opals on each side, carefully polished and about the size of a pea. There was a small chain that connected to each side, that laid gently on the bridge of her nose. Next came the tongue piercing, with a simple black barbell sliding into place. She picked up a pair of snake earrings, that had eyes made of onyx, before adding the industrial piercings, that spinel on them and a little chain connecting each part.

She smiled at the Doll in the mirror, before putting on a couple of rings, bracelets, and then an anklet.

Next came the final, and most important piece of the outfit. Pulling out a lockbox, Isaac unlocked it, and inside sat a collar.

A beautiful, handcrafted leather collar, with fur on the inside. A large, pigeon's blood ruby sat proudly as the center crystal, surrounded by smaller tanzanite crystals. The o-ring had a tag that read Dracul's Doll on it, as well as a dragon charm. The collar was enchanted by Dracul's blood when it was first created, and the faint traces of it still lingered, tickling her skin like a soft summer breeze.

It marked her as the property of Dracul, better than any ring could ever do.

Isaac stood up from the vanity chair and looked back over at the full length mirror. Damn, she looked really good. Sure, the sweater and pants hid most of her figure, but she still felt so cute. Isaac took her hair out of the braid and fluffed it out more.

The smile only grew wider, and with a split moment, it leaned forward, and pressed its lips against the mirror, leaving a lipstick mark on the surface. One last look, she turned away and stepped out, grabbing a simple over the shoulder purse.

"Dracul? Are you ready to head out?" She called out.

"Yes," she turned her head, as her sire stepped out, "just waiting on you." His eyes took in every part of her outfit, a soft smile on his face.

He had a simple flannel shirt and blue jeans on, with some steel toe boots. Isaac stepped closer, wrapping her arm around his shoulder, leaning down to give him a kiss. One that he happily leaned up and met halfway for.

"You look good," it stated as it pulled away from his lips. She took to his side, and left her arm wrapped around him.

"As do you," he said back, intertwining their fingers together as they stepped out the door.

Sure, the city still had plenty that needed to be done, but for the day, Dracul and Isaac could have some time to themselves, without all the responsibilities that came with being God's Champion and the partner of said Champion.