#that her drawings will never live up to the real thing and how pretty they are

[cyberpunk-deadboy]

assorted mizuena doodles ft the vampire au i’ve been thinking about

[alucarddear]

Position anon again, would you please write a NSFW alphabet for Alucard? Pretty please? 🥺

Alucard N S F W Alphabet*

I'm personally offended that I haven't done this for Lulu before. Anyway, rather than just spelling out his name, I'll give you the entire alphabet. Heh. This is LONG! Your thoughts and keyboard smashes are welcome. 🤭

P.S. I go explicit and specific; read at your own risk. I also tried my best to keep it as gender-neutral as possible, so this is [Alucard x You]. However, I did have a little self-indulgent fun with W: wild card, the only section with an obvious she/her indication. Just so you know!

A: Aftercare (what they're like after sex)

Aftercare is not optional to this dhampir. It's a must. It doesn't matter if you had a quick romp or a long night, he'd still take the time to treat you right, especially if he'd been rather rough with you.

Forehead kisses, soft caresses, helping clean you up—you name it and he's got it covered. It's all about making sure you feel loved, appreciated, and cared for.

Alucard is not one to just up and leave or make you feel used. In fact, it's noticeable how much more he dotes on you after actually using you up good and fucking you raw into next week. 😏

B: Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and their partner’s)

Your neck. Let's not even pretend that Alucard doesn't gravitate towards it. As you ride him, he buries his face in the crook of your neck and nips and pecks at your throat. There's a part of him that wants to sink his fangs into you then and there and another that wants nothing more than to whisper sweet nothings against your skin as you throw your head back in bliss.

Alucard likes his hands—the way they're so large against yours; how perfectly your hands feel in his own. He likes his hands gripping your thighs or hips, his hand coming down to slap your ass, his hands caressing every inch of you. The way his hand closes around your wrist, encircling it completely as if it was made to do nothing but. The way he pushes you down with his hand on the small of your back as he prepares to take you from behind. Most of all, all of the things his hands can do to make you cum.

C: Cum (anything to do with cum)

Alucard's desire to spill his seed inside you is next to nothing sometimes. If you'd let him, he'd bury himself balls-deep and cum inside you each and every time.

He loves to make you cum, loves the way you sound—the hitching of your breath, your begging, the way you can barely keep yourself from shaking as he coaxes yet another orgasm out of you. He loves to praise you for it. "God, you're fucking beautiful," is something you hear often. It just never gets old.

D: Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

Alucard loves when you allow him to bend you over whichever way he pleases. Loves how tiny and pliable you look underneath him, adjusting and propping your arms and legs as he sees fit. Just the sight of you like that, it's enough to push him over the edge.

So, you know he draws you—you are his muse after all. You've seen his sketches. But not the ones of your beautiful, naked body. Not even the tasteful pieces he draws as you sleep. Not the ones where, try as he might, he just can't replicate how utterly divine you look when he fucks you. He's a talented artist, but nothing tops the real thing.

E: Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Is he very experienced? No. Does he know what he's doing? Hell yes. His mother was a doctor and his father is a man of science. He lives in a castle full of resources. He has deep knowledge of biology—he's got the theory down pat. Sure, he fumbled a little the first few times, but he quickly learnt how you like to be pleased.

Besides, being a dhampir, Alucard is in tune with your body's responses to his ministrations. When you're intimate, he can practically feel your heart racing, dear. He knows when you're close, can tell when he's hitting it good, need I say more?

F: Favourite position (this goes without saying)

Mastery. He sits on the edge of the bed, feet flat on the floor to support you sitting on top of him with your legs bent on either side of him, your feet flat on the bed. This position allows you to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss. It lets you start off slow, very intimate—with you grinding against and riding him. Once you're a little tired (or he starts growing impatient), he simply grips your hips and pounds up into you until you're a screaming wreck. His grip on your hips and his feet securely planted on the floor allows him to rut into you fast. And the view? Fucking fantastic. He loves watching you come undone like this, seeing you throw your head back and expose your throat to him. Yes.

For a quick romp, you can't go wrong with doggy style. When you're in his study and you both get a little too distracted? He’ll bend you over his desk and have his way with you.

G: Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Oh, he's very serious about giving both of you a good time, alright. He might do something that makes you giggle, sure, but for the most part it's probably accidental and not his intention. Sex with Alucard can be intimate and sweet or downright animals humping in the undergrowth (👀), no in between. He's not here for the shits and giggles, darling.

H: Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

It does match. Maybe not all the time completely bare, but he keeps himself neat and tidy. Do you see his luxurious hair? He takes care of himself down there too.

I: Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Alucard loves to see you and hear you. He's considerate and goes out of his way to find what works for you. So much so he probably has ruined you for anyone else. You'll never find a more receptive lover; it’s time to accept that.

When you make sweet love, he whispers sweet nothings against your skin. He peppers kisses all over you and makes you feel like the most gorgeous being on the planet. He's not afraid to voice his thoughts out loud too, praising you and urging you on.

J: Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

You remember those naughty sketches of you? Yep. He has used them a couple times while you were away. You're in his thoughts whenever he touches himself.

K: Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Edging. He not-so-secretly loves it when you beg. How are you to know how much more you can take? He'll just have to show you.

When you moan his name as you grip the sheets and quake beneath him? Yeah. He loves it, especially when you can barely even make out the words for “Adrian, please, please, please.”

When you take control and ride him like your life depends on it, it does something to his brain. You on top, taking control and looking absolutely beautiful as you do so... he could cum just from the thought of it.

There is a part of him that likes the thought of cumming deep inside you and breeding you. Maybe it's that loneliness that sometimes nags at him, maybe he yearns for a family, but he can't lie this feels utterly divine.

L: Location (favourite places to do the do)

The bed is cliche, but it works and is comfortable. Your kitchen counter, desk, against the wall or a tree, table, or out at some secluded clearing by the lake... Alucard is truly not that picky, as long as you're not out in the public for other eyes to see and you’re both comfortable.

M: Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Your reactions and enthusiasm. Knowing you're into it just as much as he is.

When you sashay towards him, crooking your finger at him to beckon him closer? He's right there with you in a heartbeat.

When you wear his shirt and it swallows your smaller frame? It turns him on more than he lets on.

When you moan his name and gasp and writhe in pleasure. When you beg for him to take you harder, faster, and deeper. It just about short-circuits his brain.

N: No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Any form of bondage or restrictions to his movement. It brings up unnecessary trauma and makes him feel that he's not in control or safe. He is mostly a switch, sure, letting you take control and dominate too, but tying him up is just a no-go for him.

He won't transform into a wolf. It's practically bestiality, which he's not down for.

Somnophilia or any other act where consent can be dubious. He's just big on consent and trust, for obvious reasons.

O: Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves having absolute control over your pleasure, knowing it's him coaxing the sighs and moans and screams out of you. He enjoys how easily he can make you cum and drive you mad.

That said, he also loves watching you pleasure him, taking as much of his hard length as you can, especially whenever you greedily swallow his load.

P: Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends. Sex can be whatever it needs to be in the moment. While he loves nothing more than to take his time and make sweet love to you, he also loves ravaging you and leaving you utterly spent. It's satisfying either way.

The usual case is he begins slowly and sensually, but by the end of it (and sometimes without warning), he's rutting into you like his life depends on it.

Q: Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He isn't above having a quickie if that is all time permits, but he would really much rather have his way with you properly!

R: Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Given that he's a dhampir, he knows exactly how to go unseen or unnoticed. It's likely his risk assessment is much more honed. You might think you're being risky, but he is well aware of the chances of you getting caught in the act.

As for experimenting—other than his hard reservations (the ones listed in N), he is game to experiment and try different things you may be curious about as long as you both feel safe and comfortable about them.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He's a dhampir... need I say more? The chances of you exhausting him first is little. Sorry to burst your bubble. 😆 He's got stamina for days, honey.

T: Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Alucard is not above using toys to pleasure you. But what can a toy do that he can't do better? Hah. Chances are he will attempt to learn how it pleases you and try to replicate that with his own cock, mouth, and hands.

U: Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He can be such a little tease. You know the way he banters. That snark and sass can sometimes make their way inside the bedroom too.

"What was that, darling?" he'd ask, as if his amazing sense of hearing wasn't enough to register your begging as he edges you for the nth time. "Tsk. Patience, my love..." he would even dare chide you!

Alucard also loves to glide his fangs over your skin, just enough to leave a faint mark but not enough to draw blood.

V: Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not shy to let you know he’s having a good time, but he’s also not overly loud. He gasps, moans, and curses, a tight-lipped “Fuck!” slipping out once in a while.

W: Wild card (a random headcanon)

He loves to praise you. His way of talking dirty is to let you know how good you feel around him. How ethereal you are, how perfect for him, how you taste so sweet.

He encourages you as he pushes you over the limit. “Yes, yes, darling, you can take it. Cum for me,” he would say. He’d place a kiss on your open mouth as you convulse around him as he rips yet another orgasm out of you. “My sweet darling,” he would groan, wiping the sweat off your brow. “How perfect you are. Good girl.” And just like that, he’s about to do it all over again. RIP. 😫

X: X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s active and it shows. He’s well built without being overly bulky. It suits him—muscular/toned yet elegant and lean.

He’s packing a just-about-above average penis, but nothing you cannot handle. The man’s over six foot, it just fits.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Alucard is the type to yearn and pine, so set the volume level up cause he cannot get enough of you. Enough said.

Z: Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Sometimes you drift off to sleep together, but you usually fall asleep first.

He’s a night owl. He’d take you in his arms and stroke your hair as you sleep, admiring the way you glow under the moonlight, and wonder how he got so lucky to have found you. 🤍🌙

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Mine - JJ Maybank One Shot

+18 Minor DNI Fluff & Angst

JJ x KookExGirlfriend!Reader

⭐️ republished ⭐️

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 warnings: language, name calling, child birth and it’s side effects.

📖 JJ’s ex is pregnant and the baby is his 💕

5k

Reader’s POV:

JJ has come by every day since the breakup, never at the same time. His beautiful blue eyes still find a way to catch mine. I iced him out completely, ghosting him only a few weeks after we made it official.

We had been pining after each other for years, rushing into everything when we finally got what we both wanted. We never once thought about playing it safe, fucking raw in the back of his Bronco that night, and every chance we got after that. We couldn’t get enough of each other… Every time we were alone, our hands were on each other, clothes thrown across the room, tangled up in sheets.

“Fuck that,” was the last thing I heard him mumble to John B before he and his friends disappeared for weeks. They talked about hooking up, girlfriends, and how the last thing they want to deal with is a pregnant one after John B. and Sarah had a scare of their own. ‘We’re too young. They’re too expensive. I’m not ready for that shit. Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me? There’s no way in hell’.

And here I stand.

Nine months and five days along, hiding it from him because, at this point, I’d instead go at it alone. I didn’t know where he went, and when he came back, something had happened. I could tell something was going on with him and Kiara. The longer I was away, the closer they got. He seemed happier with her. I can do this myself… even though I don’t want that. Not at all.

He still calls me from time to time. Usually late at night when I’m already asleep. JJ doesn’t always leave a message, but when he does, it’s a jumbled mess of drunken words.

I’ve shut out all my friends. The only people that know are my parents and the little old lady next door. They think it’s some random tourists. My parents kicked me out on my ass after I decided to keep the baby. 'You think you’re so grown? You think you can handle this pinching pennies? What kind of life is that?’ They gave me up that day. 'If you want to act like trash, you can live like trash.’

But who’s the actual trash here?

As much as I wanted to return to my simple life, I couldn’t do it; I couldn’t bring myself to get the abortion they were more than willing to pay for. I went from a Kook to a Pogue in a matter of seconds. And, at my twenty-week appointment, when I saw that little boy in my tummy, I knew I made the right choice.

I snagged an office job pretty fast: a beautiful spot, a real-estate agency close to the beach. The clientele is great, Pogues with just enough money to hire someone to sell their little shacks instead of doing it themselves. Work, community college, sleep, rinse, and repeat. I’ve saved enough to buy a crib and some basics… Stopping by the thrift store just off Figure 8 to nab some Kook’s hand-me-downs. I want to give this little boy the life he deserves… I want to prove my parents wrong.

I’m sure they’ll have a change of heart after the baby is born, rushing to plunge that silver spoon straight into his mouth and 'save him from all this.’ But, come to find out, this life saved me. An existence under their thumb is not where I wanted to be. I don’t want to raise a Kook. I want to raise a Pogue. I just wish I knew what I was doing. I really wish I had Jayj.

You look out the large front window, watching as he passes by, surfboard looped under his arm as he steps toward beach access. His eyes drift your way, turning ahead before he disappears again. Shit. You look down at your stomach, watching the baby turn, your round tummy rolling with the baby’s movements.

Like clockwork, you’re hit with a braxton hicks contraction. Your belly squeezes taunt, breathing strained, causing you to draw little breaths, blowing them slow. You look up at the wall, watching the clock strike 5. Yes. Grabbing the armrest, you struggle to stand, pressing yourself up. You waddle toward the door, turning the open sign to close before nabbing your keys.

The warm summer air kisses your skin as you pass through the door; the sunset paints the sky in the west. Fuck. Your stomach contracts again, a contraction so intense you have to grab the brick wall for support, eyes screwing shut as you breathe through it again. “Hey…” Your heart sinks, eyes flashing open as you meet JJ’s wide gaze.

“Hi,” you force the word through tight lips, still clutching the wall.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently. JJ’s stare falls down your body, landing on your bump, your hand cradling the bottom out of sheer practice.

“M'fine,” you whimper as you turn quickly, clipping toward your shitty little car before he can ask anymore, tears brimming in your eyes.

JJ’s POV:

I watch her car slow-roll over the speed bump, steering through the parking lot into her tiny carport. My muscles are tense; emotion pooled in my eyes as I watch her battle to get out of her car. I know she’s pregnant. I didn’t ask. It was the first thing I wanted to blurt out. Even though my dad’s a grade-A asshole, he still taught me that shit ain’t polite. I just didn’t think she would disappear that fast. She grabs the handrail, heading up the steps, pulling open the apartment door before falling out of sight.

Everything was fine until I left… And, when I came back, she was gone. She fuckin’ vanished, dropping me for no one, from what I’ve seen, at least. She’s shut herself in completely, never coming out.

I couldn’t help but check on her every chance I got. Make sure she’s okay. I should have known something was off. Her family’s loaded. There’s no reason that Kook Princess should be hanging out around here. She should be off at some fancy-ass college, living the dream. The second I saw her in that office, red flags should have been waving left and right, but they didn’t.

She didn’t want to talk. I could tell… The look in her eye was enough to let me know to stay the hell away. That, paired with the fact that she never called me back. Most of the time I wasted… I can’t lie. It was probably for the best. But she saw my number and chose to ignore it; decided to leave it unanswered. Somethin’s goin’ on… Maybe she’s gotta new boyfriend. There’s no reason why she’d be here otherwise… Unless there’s more to the story. 

Maybe all this is 'cause I told her I loved her. I don’t know, but that’s the last thing I said before I left. And I still feel it. I still love that woman. Maybe she wasn’t ready. Maybe she was ready, and I left, and she started to second guess everything. I mean, how could she not? I vanished, then she did… Can I really fault her for doing the same exact shit?

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

My body jumps, chills running down my spine as headlights flood my rearview mirror. Goddamnit. I’ve gotta make a decision, in or out; am I gonna do this or not? I stomp on the gas, speeding ahead, barreling away as my tears break free.

She was a good girl before she met me. I wasn’t a virgin, but she was. She gave that to me. I don’t think she was sleeping around with anyone else.

That baby’s mine. I know it.

Reader’s POV:

DING.

You drag your body over to the microwave, snagging your TV dinner. The apartment is quiet, just the lull of the evening news playing in the background. Plopping down on the weathered couch, you snag the remote, flicking through the channels aimlessly until you find your comfort show, snuggling in a little more as you swirl your spaghetti on your fork.  

Grabbing the remote, you turn it a little louder, trying your best to drown out the thoughts raging in your head. The interaction with Jayj, the horror in his eyes, the way you left, fleeing the scene altogether. I miss him. Every part of him. God, he is so fucking beautiful. Those goddamn eyes, and that perfect face, his voice. I - DRIP. DRIP.

You look between your thighs, a wet spot gathering on your sweatpants, dribbling onto the floor below. You pinch the bridge of your nose, expiring a frustrated breath. As if this day wasn’t mortifying enough, let me add pisses your pants to the list… You close your eyes softly as a tinge of nausea sets in as well.

Maybe if I take a shower, I’ll feel better… You rise to your feet, liquid continuing to trickle its way down your leg.

Shit…

Is this it? It wouldn’t be far-fetched. I’m past my due date. Did my water just break? You feel your bottom lip wobble, muscles stiffening as you face reality that that might be the case.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

Fuck. You look down at your soaked pants. I don’t want anyone seeing me like this.

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

“One sec, Dot,” you call out for your neighbor.

“Umm… Hey. I-It’s JJ,” you hear his muffled voice behind the closed door. Everything stops; your body, frozen as you watch him through the little kitchen window, just a crack of sight through your curtain. No. You shuffle toward the bathroom, clutching your stomach, a new sensation of emptiness you hadn’t felt before.

“Ow… Ow… Oh my god,” you gasp, holding the bottom of your stomach. “It’s fucking happening… No. Fuck!” You scream, another contraction rocking you. The soft knocking turns into a loud bang. “Let me in, y/n. P-Please. Are you okay? What’s going on? Talk to me, sweetheart.”

You grip the doorframe tightly, trying to center yourself, to no avail. The room starts to spin around you, stomach churning, mouth salivating. Am I going to throw up? Why am I gonna throw up? You trip slightly on the rug, falling to your knees, crawling the rest of the way toward the toilet.

“Y/n?” JJ yells as he frantically fiddles with the doorknob, knocking at the glass trying to open that as well.

“Ja-” You go to answer, letting out a cough instead, emptying your stomach into the bowl. Then you hear it: metal on metal as the doorknob twists.

“Y/n?” JJ stutters, his boots bounding toward the bathroom. “Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“Yeah,” you cry as you see a look of sheer panic in his eyes. “Why are you here?” You whisper.

“I-I… Umm… I don’t know?” He spurts as he moves a little closer. “Do you want me to c-call your parents?”

“No!” You shout. “Don’t. Please. I don’t want them here,” you yell. JJ’s eyes open wider.

“I’m sorry…”

“No, Jayj. Don’t apologize.”

He kneels close, rubbing your back softly. “Did you need me to clean up out there for you? Do you want me to get you a new pair of pants? Or maybe a glass of water? A rag? You want a rag? Yeah?” You throw up in the toilet again, causing JJ to release a sympathetic gag.

“Jayj… you can’t do that,” you groan.

“I’m sorry. M'sorry, y/n,” he sighs, trying to compose himself. “Here.” He grabs a scrunchie off the counter, gathering your hair in a ponytail.

“Thank you.” You grip the toilet tightly, trying your best to calm down, but it’s simply momentary. “Fuck,” you howl, your pain wrapping around your back to your front.

“Y/n, s-shit,” JJ whimpers, dropping his head in his hand. His own personal panic setting in. “Are you - fuck,” JJ tries to speak, but the words aren’t easy. “Are you pregnant?”

“Is that not clear, Jayj,” you cry. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

“What?”

“I have to go to the bathroom, JJ!” You scream, voice bouncing off the walls as you feel pressure building between your thighs.

“O-Okay. Of course. Do you need help standing?”

“Will you get me a bucket first?” JJ nods at you rapidly. You let out a loud cry, whole body pain, indescribable hurt. “Fuck!” You scream.

“Should I call 9-1-1?”

“The bucket, JJ. Please!”

“Okay. Alright. Sorry. S-Sorry!” he panics, running out of the bathroom. You hear him bang around in the kitchen, talking himself into a frenzy.

“Grab anything, JJ! Please!”

“I’m sorry!”

“Jesus Christ. It’s fucking hot in here.” You rip off your shirt, tossing it to the side.

“This! Okay… This will work,” he cheers breathlessly, running back into the bathroom with a pot. You quickly tug your pants down, taking a seat on the toilet. You draw the pot under your chin, breathing deeply.

“Fuck… this feels so much better.” You moan, feeling slight relief in this new position. A new heat rises in your cheeks, humiliation brewing as you feel the weight of JJ’s gaze on you. The last night he saw me, I was in a paisley sundress, his arms around me, lips locked on mine. I felt beautiful. JJ always made me feel that way. He told me he loved me. That girl. Not this one. I can’t believe he’s seeing me this way: tummy round, naked, sweaty, sick, and in pain. All I can do is cry.

JJ walks over, kneeling before you as his beautiful blue eyes search for yours. “Y/n, we gotta get you to the hospital. Okay?” His voice is gentle and calm. JJ tucks some sweaty strands of hair behind your ear as you match his watch. You can see his eyes getting glassy; he’s also completely and utterly overwhelmed, still trying to stay calm for you.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” you mewl.

“Hey, s'okay. You’re gonna be alright. We just gotta go, baby.”

Baby. The guilt hits you next, hard and fast. How would I feel if roles were reserved? How would I feel if this secret was kept from me?

“JJ… I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

JJ swallows thickly; the tears pooled in his beautiful blue eyes break free as he looks back at you. “The baby’s mine?” He fights the words past his lips.“This is amazing… I just - I. Fuck. It’s okay, honey. But, why - Why wouldn’t you just tell me, y/n?" He whispers, his voice hoarse and broken with emotion.

"I didn’t want to ruin your life, Jayj. We had just started dating-”

“Ruin my life? Why would this ruin my life?” He cuts you off in disbelief. Your muscles tighten, a sharp pain radiating as you try to remain in the moment with him. You can see his face change with yours, seeing the pain in your eyes. “Let’s go. Let’s get you to the hospital,” he whispers as he rests one hand on your cheek, the other set lightly on your tummy.

“I can’t move, J,” you whimper.

“I can carry you. Okay? The hospital is only five minutes away. I can get you there in three. Fanciest driver in The Cut. You know that. Yeah? We’ll be there in a heartbeat. Everything’ll be fine. We’re okay. Okay?” He sniffles, lifting the neck of his white tee shirt to wipe the emotion out of his eyes. “Let me get you some clothes, sweetheart.” You nod in reply, gripping the counter tightly as you battle through the pain of another contraction.

JJ races back into the bathroom as fast as he came out, handling you carefully as he tugs on your oversized t-shirt and shorts. He guides you to your feet, helping you into your Converse sneakers, tying them tight before lifting you into his arms. You clutch onto him as you ride out another contraction, burying yourself in the crook of his neck. Your tears wet his shirt as he walks with you toward the door, stepping out into the night. “You’re okay, baby. You’re alright," he soothes, kissing you gently on the temple.

JJ tugs open the door of the Bronco, setting you inside before sprinting around the front. JJ flicks the keys, making the engine roar. He throws it in reverse, peeling out of the parking lot before skirting onto the main street, making you clutch the grab rails for support. "Shit. Sorry, princess,” JJ winces as he sees the fright in your eyes. He thrusts his hand into his pocket, thumbing through his cell phone as he dodges through traffic.

You can see the tears still sparkling in his stare; JJ’s jaw coiled tight as he listens to the ringing on the other end of the line. He’s terrified, just like you, his phone trembling in his hand. “Hi. Uhh… Shit. My girlfriend and I are on our way in. She - she’s…”

“In labor,” you whisper, helping him along.

“She’s in labor. We’re about two minutes away. Uh… Umm, let me ask,” he breathes, eyes snapping your way. “How far apart are they? Have you been timing them?”

“Timing what?” You ask sheepishly, watching as JJ’s eyes lighten on yours.

“Your contractions, baby.”

“I don’t know,” you whimper, cheeks hot with shame again, your ignorance on display. He probably thinks I’m an idiot. I should know this. Why don’t I know this?“

"S'okay," he whispers. JJ looks down at the dash, eyeing the little clock.

"Fuck, Jayj,” you sob, the pressure of another contraction setting in.

“Shit. Sorry - sorry, I’m here. Umm… Like four minutes tops? Yeah. Mhmm… She’s close,” he whispers, making your heart skip a beat. “Yeah. Yeah - The front. We’ll meet you out there.” You try your best to keep your eyes open, vision blurry as you see the hospital sign glowing like a beacon in the night. JJ stuffs his phone back in his pocket, reaching for your hand instantly, weaving his finger in yours before drawing them up to his lips. He kisses your hand, lingering on your skin, hiding his quivering lips.

“Motherfucker!” You scream, driving your heels into the floor of the SUV; yet another contraction barrelling through your body as you pull up to the curb. JJ grits his teeth as you squeeze his hand tight, surely drawing blood.

JJ’s POV:

“Take a deep breath for me, y/n,” the nurse aids. Y/n’s eyes slam shut, her beautiful face scrunching in discomfort as the nurse checks her further. “Okay… 10 centimeters,” she says calmly. “I see some hair.” Y/n’s eyes remain shut in fear as she nods her head frantically. Her little hand squeezes mine again; the only relief she can get this far along. I can’t believe she almost did this alone - all by herself. What if she couldn’t have made it to the phone? 

Why can’t she call her parents? Why is she alone in the first place? Why wouldn’t she just tell me? I feel my thoughts start to race with the beating of my heart. “Y/n,” I whisper. Her gaze matches mine, sending me into a spiral as I see the speckles of red against the whites of her eyes, popped blood vessels, and tears pooled in the corners. Heat rises behind my eyes again as I swallow the lump in my throat. “You’re doing so good, y/n.”

“M'not,” she hiccups, hand clutching her little bucket as she waits for her tummy to turn again. “I let you down, Jayj. I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m scared. M'not fucking ready-”

“Y-You’re ready,” I stammer; the stutter in my voice deceives me, but I mean every word. “You didn’t let me down. I went into your room, y/n. I saw the crib, all the clothes you have hung in your closet, the baby book with all the Post-it notes sticking out. You’re ready. 'Course you’re scared…” My voice fades to a hush as she tucks herself in my neck. I’m instantly struck with Deja Vu, thrown back into the night that changed everything. The last night she was mine… I clear my throat, beating my lashes shut.

“The baby’s a boy, Jayj,” she whispers gently.

“Yeah?” I ask happily as I choke back tears, feeling her nod against my shoulder.

“M'sorry, Jayj. I-” Y/n fleeting words turn into a wail, nails digging into my forearm.

“Please don’t apologize, y/n,” I soothe, kissing her head. “You’re so strong, baby girl,” I whisper in her ear, feeling her muscles contract.

“We’re going to need you to start pushing, y/n.”

“I can’t,” she whimpers.

“You can, baby. You can.”

“You know how you feel like you need to go to the bathroom? Push like that. Okay?” Y/n shakes her head no.

“You’ve got to, baby. A'ight? You’re amazing, y/n,” I breathe, moving closer. She presses her forehead against mine, gritting her teeth. “You’re safe. Okay? You’re safe.” Y/n presses her quivering lips against mine, taking my breath away. Those lips… Holy shit. My hand wraps around the back of her neck, drawing her even closer. “I missed you," I whisper shakily. 

"I missed you too, JJ,” she echoes.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Jayj,” she whimpers.

“M'not goin’ anywhere. M'not leavin’ you. Okay?”

“Okay,” she sobs.

“Y/n?” The nurse calls. “What’s your pain level when you have a contraction?”

“10,” she soughs.

“You’re going to have a contraction in a few seconds. We’re going to need you to push hard. When you feel it coming on, take some deep breaths. When you hit 10, push. Okay? JJ, we will need you to count to ten for her. Y/n, we want you to push all 10 seconds.” I can see the shift in her face; her pain, increasing. Her grip on my hand gets tighter. Y/n’s eyes shift to mine, giving me a nod.

“10… 9… 8… 7… 6… 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”

“F-Fuck!” She screams, her eyes slam shut as her body trembles in pain. “S'not working,” she snivels.

“It’s working. You’re doing a great job. Just a few more pushes,” the doctor assures. “This next one might be it, but you’ll have to push really hard.”

“Did you hear that, baby?” I breathe, my lips resting on her forehead. “You’re doing so good.”

“You’re doing a great job, Y/n,” the nurse whispers. Y/n’s eyes flutter shut, wincing in pain, tears streaming down her cheeks. She doesn’t believe a word of it.

“10… 9… 8… 7… 6…”

“Ow… Ow… No. It burns,” she wails. The words catch my throat as I push back tears.

“We have him. Keep pushing.”

“5… 4… 3… 2… 1…”

She lets out a guttural scream; the doctor catches a baby, drawing him out. “Oh my god,” I breathe.

“Oh… H-Holy shit,” she whimpers. “Is the baby okay? Is he breathing?” I hear the baby’s high-pitched cry. A wave of relief crashes over me. Y/n dissolves in my arms as we look out for our little boy. 

This was the last thing I expected, the furthest thing from my mind when I woke up this morning. But, now, here I am. Here he is. Here she is, my beautiful fucking girl. We made him… He’s ours.

“I’m so glad you came, Jayj,” she cries.

“Me too, baby. Holy shit.” I grab a towel from the nurse, blotting the tears and sweat from Y/n’s face. “You did so well, y/n. Fuck. You okay, honey?” I mumble before meeting her lips.

“M'okay." God, I can’t stop. I kiss her deeper, making y/n smile against my lips. "I missed you,” she whispers.

“I missed you. Fuck, I missed you so damn much,” I sigh.

“You’re going to be such a good dad-”

“You’re going to be such a good mom. The best mom. The baby’s so lucky to have you as a mom,” I babble, kissing her forehead and cupping her dewy cheek. I hold y/n tightly, watching the nurse cradle the baby in her arms. She sets him on the towel, cutting and clamping the umbilical cord.

She walks over, resting the baby on Y/n’s chest, and in that moment, I feel a shift. Everything seems a little clearer: her, him, and they’re both mine. My heart feels like it could fucking burst as I look at him in her arms. He’s so tiny, so small and fragile. I just want to keep him safe.

Y/n’s lips rest on his tiny head, a pink and blue striped bonnet covering a mess of blonde hair, just like mine. “Jayj,” she whispers, extending him to me. I draw the baby close, blinking, my tears gone. He’s so peaceful; his eyes shut tight. I can feel the warmth of his little breaths against my skin.

“Wow,” I sigh, looking up at the ceiling as tears fall. Y/n rests her head on my shoulder. We’re okay. Everything’s okay.

“You look beautiful,” I breathe.

“You’re a liar, JJ Maybank.” Her nose scrunches, eyes rolling away. Fuck. I missed her.

“I’m not. I promise.”

“You’re never going to want to have sex with me again,” she chuckles through a sigh, hands resting on her once-rounded tummy. 

“You jokin’?” I scoff. “Been dreamin’ about that for the last, what, nine months now? S'the first thing we’re gonna do when we get outta here.” Y/n chuckles as she raises an eyebrow, making me double back.

“6 weeks, Jayj,” she whispers as her flushed cheeks blush even more.

“No…” I gasps. “You sure? I thought you said you didn’t know what you were doin’, princess. Gonna need to fact-check that shit.” I give her a taunting look, making her roll her. “M'just kiddin’, sweetness.” Taking out my phone, I flick to the calendar, checking the dates. “The 24th, baby girl.” Y/n lets out a sleepy little laugh, tucking herself in my arms again.

“Babysitter?”

“Mhmm… Whoever you want,” I soothe.

“Sarah and Pope.”

“Ah, Cameron and Heyward. Couldn’t agree more, baby.” She snuggles in a little closer, her eyes on the little bassinet, watching the baby sleep. “So…” I sigh as I take a deep breath.

“You wanna know why I’m officially a Pogue, Jayj?” She asks weakly.

“Yeah… I’ve got a few questions, princess. That’s a good start,” I mumble, resting my lips against her temple. She takes a deep breath, expelling a laborious sigh.

“Umm… Well, my parents didn’t want me to have the baby-”

“Stop,” you whisper, shaking your head 'no.’ “I think I know where you’re goin’ with this, and I can’t hear it. Alright? I don’t want you to say it either. Please.” Y/n bites her cheek. “I’m so fucking sorry - m'so, so sorry.” I cup her cheek, kissing her lips. “You got me… You got all my friends - you’re friends. This baby will be so loved, y/n. I swear.”

“Okay, Jayj.”

“Thank you for not doin’ that, baby. I just - I can’t even imagine that now,” I breathe, feeling my throat tighten as I watch his little chest rise and fall.

“It was never an option, Jayj,” she whispers.

“Why didn’t you tell me, y/n? Why did you think it would ruin my life? Why did you break up with me-”

“JJ,” she breathes as she rests her hand on my chest, grounding me again. “That was a huge fucking mistake. I’m so sorry. We had just started dating, and then you left. And, right before you left-”

“I was talking to John B about what a nightmare this shit would be…” I cut her short, dropping my head, nodding as I put the pieces together.

“When you came back, Jayj, I didn’t know what to do. And, I saw you with Kie, and you looked like the two of you had somethin’ goin’ on. Between that and my parents, I felt it would be easier for everyone if I went at it alone.”

“Kie is just a friend. Alright? She always has been. And life isn’t easy, y/n,” I whisper. “You know that just as well as me. Doesn’t mean that the hard isn’t worth going through. I swear I will be here for you both if you’ll let me.”

“Really?” Y/n asks shakily.

“Please, y/n.”

“I need you, J. I want you in my life,” she whispers, an unease in her tone like you may say anything but the apparent 'yes.’

“I need you too, princess.”

“I wasn’t lying to you, Jayj. I don’t know what I’m doing,” she warns. “I have read books, sure, but if today showed me anything, it let me know I’m not fucking ready.”

“S'not true, honey. I’ve seen you with him already, and you’re a natural. We’ll figure this whole parenting thing out together,” I smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, Jayj.”

The lights are low; the sky is dark, only the glow of the television casting light in the room. Drawing back the blankets, I climb inside, pulling her back into my chest. I focus on the sound of her breathing, the way she fits in my arms, just like I remembered, just like I dreamt about. Her soft, supple skin and the sweetness of her perfume surrounds me.

There’s a soft knock on the door. “Come in,” she calls. A hospital worker walks in with a bouquet. Y/n smiles brightly, setting them down on the counter. Reaching over, I snag the card from the top and pass it to her; a little smile stretches on her lips from the sweet gesture alone. “To our newest little Pogue. Welcome to the family, baby boy. Love, Aunt Sarah, Uncle John B, Aunt Kiara, and Uncle Pope.”

Y/n reaches up, brushing the tears from her eyes as I do the same. “Your friends are pretty special, Jayj,” she whispers.

“Our friends, baby,” I smile. “They’re gonna be so happy to have you around again.”

She smiles and nods before tucking the little note back into the bouquet. Tonight was horrifying… a stark contrast to this moment. The woman I love is no longer in tears, no longer in agony, no longer scared. She’s my light… My safe place.

“What were you gonna name him, y/n? I’m sure you already have something in mind.”

“Jaxon James.”

“JJ?” I hum happily as I pull her in tight. Her sparkling eyes match mine, a blissful smile setting in her perfect lips.

“He looks just like you, Jayj; your nose, your hair, your eyes,” she sighs dreamily. “He’s perfect.”

“He’s so damn cute. Oh my god,” I whisper; catching a glimpse of his round cheeks and pouty lips.

“Can he have your last name, Jayj?”

“Oh wow,” I breathe, her question alone conjuring up yet another round of tears. I flutter my lashes, doing my best to keep it together. “Of course, baby. Thank you. That means a lot to me… You mean a lot to me,” I whisper.

“You two mean everything to me, Jayj.”

I hold her cheek in my hand, brushing her buttery-soft skin with my rough thumb. “We’ll start with him, then you, of course. When the time’s right.”

“Yeah, Jayj?” She whimpers through tears.

“I never stopped lovin’ you, y/n. Of course, I wanna be with you forever. Let’s start with the first step. Huh? Will you be my girlfriend, y/n?”

She grabs my face, lips crashing into mine as her body language alone screams 'yes’. My hands fall down her body; the familiarity of her in my arms feels just like home.

“Of course, Jayj.”

“6 weeks. Huh?” I tease, peppering kisses on her beautiful face through a gravelly laugh as she giggles and smiles.

“I love you, JJ.”

“I love you too, baby.”

[windvexer]

Theme and Action: a tarot method for brainstorming plots, setting, and characters

I find a lot of story brainstorming spreads to be clunky and rigid, so I did a little experimenting and came up with a method I like a lot. I haven't done a ton of testing yet but I thought I'd share what I have.

Basically, it's a two card draw from a deck split into majors and minors. Each draw always has one major card (theme) and one minor card (action).

When you have a question, like:

What are some ideas for the next scene?

Why would that character behave that way?

What's the defining characteristic of this vampire clan?

What do the people in this society fear most?

Why is this scene dragging?

What does this character need to feel more real?

You would draw one major card and one minor card!

Themes and Action; what it's about vs how it manifests

We could call these cards a bunch of different things depending on exactly how the question is framed, but Themes and Action are good enough.

Basically, the major arcana card gives subtext or context, and the minor arcana card provides specific incidents. Like this!:

"In my vampire setting, what is the most important thing in vampire culture?"

Theme: Death

Action: 10/Pentacles

Interpretation: (Theme) The most important thing in vampire culture is the process of dying and the equalizer of death itself. (Action) This has resulted in cultural rituals where death is treated as a sacred adoption or initiation into a new family/estate.

(I really drew this test spread and it really was death lol)

We can swap out the Action card to see a different outcome:

Theme: Death

Action: 5/Swords

Interpretation: (Theme) the most important thing in vampire culture is the process of dying and the equalizer of death itself. (Action) the horror of death and loss has never been overcome in this society, and it must be dealt with as an individual - because vampires process the pain of their own deaths by taking it out on each other.

Here's a different example. In an urban fantasy book where a witch solves ghost mysteries, pacing is dragging and we need our next scene to be exciting. But despite a foot chase after a suspected ghost poacher, the scene doesn't feel fast paced or exciting. The question is, "how do we spice this up?"

Theme: Hermit

Action: King of Cups

Interpretation: (Theme) instead of a crowded street, the character will be isolated and without normal support. (Action) she'll be trapped in a closed space with the story's main villain, who most closely connects with the King of Cups

Another swap, this time switching out the theme card:

Theme: Empress

Action: King of Cups

Interpretation: (Theme) the scene feels boring because it's action without development. Show the main character's personal development and give her a 'level up' moment. (Action) have the ghost poacher lead her to a premature showdown with the main villain, whom she faces bravely for the first time.

This is already long so I'm not going to go on and on with examples but so far I've found this method to be pretty versatile.

Try interpreting Theme and Action as literally as you can within the context of the story!

If you're writing a story about a flower princess who sleeps on a dewdrop in the mystical Gnarlwood Forest, the Sun card will mean one thing.

If you're writing a story about vampires, the Sun card probably means something very different.

Major arcanas can be literary themes, like the moon representing deceit within society, but they can also be literal; in a werewolf story, the Moon card might represent the celestial body that controls the lives of certain people.

The most important thing for me is to avoid interpreting the cards in a general self-help sense.

The cheerful villagers of prosperous Splitsky Castle are waiting for you to invent a festival so a mysterious stranger can come to town and get the plot going.

The question is, "what kind of festival gives me the right setup to pull off the plot point I want?"

The theme card is the Magician, so ideas for the festival could be:

A festival honoring magic users (if they exist in your setting)

A festival honoring the resourcefulness of the villagers

A festival of stage magic and trickery

The action card is the 6/Cups.

Probably, the festival is not about healing your inner child with Jungian shadow work. More contextual ideas might include:

A festival where children are chosen to be trained in magic

A festival celebrating teaching the next generation important skills

A festival meant to delight and entertain children with stage magic

Developing related factions or foils

Draw a major arcana card to identify a certain Theme, maybe along the lines of:

What do they hold to be sacred?

What do they not care about, or hate?

What is their most cherished virtue?

What is the defining feature of leadership?

When they sing about home, what is in their songs?

This theme will be the same for both entities.

Draw different minor arcana cards to show how each entity expresses that theme.

Conversely, work in the opposite direction: keep the minor arcana card for both entities, and swap out the theme card.

Finding Action cards when you know the Theme

Holding the deck so that it's facing you, thumb through the cards until you find the major arcana card that describes your theme. The most recent minor arcana card that was on top of it, even if separated by other majors, is the action card.

Reversals

I tend to read both cards as upright and reversed, and just apply whatever meanings are most relevant. In my experiments using reversals ended up being too finicky and specific, and limited my creativity.

Complex Concepts and Plots

For a complex reading, like plotting an entire novel or building an entire character, I have found more utility in doing many pair readings rather than doing one large spread with many pairs.

My tests so far have suggested that the most creative freedom is found in asking specific questions, like "what is this character's driving motivation," and "what is her quirky hobby," and "what makes her put up with her annoying best friend," rather than trying to build a giant spread that includes all of these things at once.

As a caveat, in plot spreads, I will sometimes put pairs down without returning them to the deck, and then connect Theme/Action pairs with single action cards to suggest events that connect the dots.

[anthonys237thfreckle]

erm hey pookie, I have the memory of a goldfish and I can’t remember if I sent the request I wanted to or not so I’m so terribly sorry if I have but I’ve read literally everything in your account today and I’m in love BUT could you maybe possibly do either super fluffy with Javi like at home comforting him after a storm, cooking him a good meal, relaxing and unwinding in like a warm bath, helping take care of him

(and maybe a lil smoochy smooch and grabby hands ending but that’s totally up to you)

hey pookie! here’s your rec! i was thinking of doing this a while ago lol. but thanks for the req!! i love it sm!!

wait this is actually kinda bad guys beware

Twister-Love and Care - Javier ‘Javi’ x F! reader

‘with a storm in my mind, you would understand why

they all name hurricanes after us’

A Potion For Love by AURORA

—

prompt: today’s storm really took it out of Javi, but his girlfriend helps him relax

TW: mentions of storms, thunder, swearing, nightmares, some angst but its a fluff piece!!

The soft pitter-patter of the rain was a relaxing backdrop, contrasting the EF3 storm you two just chased. Javi parked the car in the driveway, ushering you to get inside so you wouldn’t get wet. That was the first thing he said since the chase was over, his eyes trained on the dirt road, darkening with each drop of water. His hands, both of them, gripped the steering wheel when he was driving home, not the usual one-hand-on-the-thigh thing he did, which you could never get enough of.

You flipped the switch to your warm-tinted lights, illuminating the once dark house. Everything looked warm and inviting - you made a rule for ‘no big lights’ in the house - especially if they were cool toned, and Javi thought it was ridiculous at first, but now he can’t imagine their home any different. You kicked off your shoes, hearing Javi do the same behind you. Looking over your shoulder, you saw his eyes out the window, the rain growing harder.

“What’s on that pretty, disgustingly educated mind of yours?” you chuckled, cupping his face and turning it to face yours.

“Scott’s the disgustingly educated one” Javi chuckled softly, a small smile forming on his face, his concerns momentarily washed away when he saw his girlfriend’s smiling face. “ ‘s just..” his face darkened again, a storm behind his eyes, a shuddering sigh escaped his lips.

“We- that storm. It felt really real. Too real, and-” he hesitated “I just, it’s a lot, I don’t really wanna talk about it��

You nodded, caressing his freckled cheek, his skin glowing in the low, warm light. You can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him, in the dark, not knowing anything about everyone’s conditions. It was only when you and Kate emerged, battered and bloodied from the raging storm, that he knew who lived and who left…

“You don’t have to, baby..” you said softly, your hands snaking to his shoulders, squeezing them softly. Javi leaned his body against yours, closing his eyes. “You’re really tense..” you remarked, kneading his knots in his toned muscles; Javi groaned.

“How about we take the night easy…” you whispered, rubbing his arms. He nodded, wrapping his strong arms around her waist, leaning on him. You laughed, bringing him to the couch.

“What do you want for dinner?” you asked softly snuggling up under his arm against his chest, your head tucked under his chin. One of your hands found his bicep, squeezing it in a comforting manner.

“Anything, really..” Javi sighed, drawing little stars on the skin of your waist. “Something warm…” He nuzzled your hair, breathing in the scent of your shampoo.

You smiled, cupping his cheek.

“Why don’t we make a date night out of this? Like a lazy night in?” She smiled up at him, pecking his cheek. Javi opened his eyes, meeting your own.

“That sounds.. amazing. It’s just what I need right now” He sighed softly, pressing a soft peck to your forehead in return.

Smiling, you got off the couch, leaving Javi whining for your warmth. You giggled, moving to the kitchen to see what they have.

“We have… feta cheese, tomatoes, half a zucchini, coleslaw..” You listed off the food in their kitchen, when she had a revelation “How does pasta sound?” She looked over at Javi, who was still on the couch.

“Like heaven” he said “wait, no, that’s you” he smiled tiredly. Even if he was mentally, physically and emotionally exhausted, he was still a flirt.

You walked over to the couch, pulling him to his feet and dragged him to the kitchen, which was essentially you silently saying ‘cook with me’. He was used to this, but loved it so, so much.

So you both chopped, diced, stirred, kissed in the kitchen - Javi was helping you with the alfredo sauce, you added some spinach for some iron. Pasta was always fun with you, because you never chose the boring, basic shapes. Who needs penne when you have star shaped tortellini? The farmers market was a wild place for artisan pasta shapes.

They boiled their pasta, Javi stirred the sauce, you pressed a kiss to his shoulder, moving in front of him, your body between his and the stove. One of his hands went around your waist, you held the spatula he set aside to wrap his arm around you,and stirred the sauce.

“This is nice..” he murmured into the shell of your ear, nuzzling your neck, pressing soft, chaste kisses to where your collarbone met your neck. You leaned your head back, to the side, giving him better access with a grin.

Once you set the pasta in the oven to bake, Javi picked you up bridal style, earning a squeal-like laugh from you. He brought you up the stairs and set you down on the bathroom counter, and you smiled.

You pecked his freckled button nose, turning on the hot water in the bathtub, and sat back down on the counter, wrapping your legs around his waist. The water running provided a nice ambience.

“You better hop in with me” Javi murmured, causing you to nod and chuckle as his hands rubbed your sides soothingly, tickling a tad bit.

You both just exchanged chaste kisses until the water was ready. Slowly stripping each other, you both got into the water, Javi settling you in his lap again.

It was this non sexual intimacy you both loved- there’s nothing purer than a bare body, and you both understood that. You relaxed against his chest as you straddled him momentarily, before lifting your head off his shoulder and running a hand through his curls. Meeting his eyes, he pulled you closer to him by bringing you nearer by the waist.

You both stared into each other’s eyes for a moment- the water still, only the occasional drop falling from the tap to the tub, causing a tiny splash. The silence was comforting to both of your bruised, yet healing souls.

“I’d be lost without you” Javi murmured, his voice holding a passion. “You’re the light in my storm”

You pulled him in for a soft, gentle yet passionate kiss. One that said everything you needed to.

After sitting in the bath for a good 20 minutes, you both got out, shivering slightly as you two reached for the bathrobes.

After you both got out of the water, changing into some bathrobes temporarily. You briefly did your skincare, lathering some moisturizer onto your boyfriend’s face.

Pulling him to your shared bedroom, he let the bathrobe fall to his lower back as he lay down on his stomach, leaving you to straddle him from behind.

You began kneading his knots out, which earned some quiet, satisfied sighs from Javi.

You smiled softly, seeing him go limp just so he could relax and unwind after a very exhausting day.

Once you were done, you lay down on his back and pressed a kiss to his freckled shoulder.

“Come on, dinner’s ready…”

Going downstairs, you spooned the pasta onto two plates, Javi brought the sweet tea out from the fridge, slicing some lemons and dropping them in the glasses full of the amber liquid. Sitting down, you both clinked your forks and started to eat your nourishing meal, warm food sliding down your throat leaving you two with smiles (and some remnants pasta sauce) on your lips.

Once dinner was done, Javi helped you rinse everything and pop it in the dishwasher, turning it on to let it run until it was done. The completists in you two were satisfied - the kitchen looked spotless.

Changing into some actual clothes, you stealing one of Javi’s shirts, you two settled in bed. The covers were warm, having put them in the dryer for a couple of minutes before to make sure they were comfortably toasty.

“Jesus Christ…” Javi sighed as he got under the covers with you, immediately seeking your body and pulling it closer to his own, strong, defined arms wrapping around your hips and lower back. He pressed a few kisses to your hair and forehead, you doing the same but with his cheeks, and nose.

Your hand ran through his curls, earning a noise of ecstasy from him. He pulled you impossibly closer, causing you to throw a leg over his waist - a casual business.

“Goodnight, (Y/N)” he murmured into your hair.

“Goodnight, Javi” you responded, voice muffled from your head nuzzling his chest “Love you”

“Love you too” he murmured, his voice sounding lazy and sleepy.

And with that, you both were too tired to go onto a conversation like you usually did at night. Instead, you both fell asleep to the soft pitter patter of the rain.

[loveandleases]

LOOVVVEEDDDD the demo and can't wait for the update! I hope you don't mind that I got two questions, but I gotta ask: what kinda hobby options do you have written down for the MC? Also, how would all the ROs, plus Chris, Jade, and Aunt Em, react if MC's cooking is five-star restaurant levels good? (I imagine Chris is kicking themselves over losing a god-tier-chef MC who cooks as a hobby)

💗 Glad you enjoyed and I don't mind at all! 1. We have writing/reading, art (drawing, painting), gaming/watching anime, cooking, photography, music (could be singing/playing instrument), exercising.

I'm going into it with the thought that depending on the hobby the MC will have the chance to spend time with RO's even in a platonic sense as well as be used to further their business. (For example: an MC who likes to exercise has the chance to run into two RO's. MC who is into art can create a logo for their business) (2 is under the cut due to length)

2. 💩 Chris - Butthurt. Which is what we want! Clarke family curse is that they can't cook right? So Chris before MC relied on fast food or their parents chef. The only real homecooked food they had was from MC or Em when they visited. It's like throwing salt on a wound. Because now they're back to fast food, easy snacks. Because Jade can't cook a damned thing. Chris is pretty sure doggo enjoys watching as Chris mumbles about wanting a hot meal from time to time.

💀 Jade - In her eyes she doesn't have time to waste on things like cooking. Why would she bother when she can just have Chris take her out to some fancy dinner? The only reason MC bothers is because they have nothing else to do obviously. (She's jelly very jealous)

😇 Em - If MC is great at cooking then Em was the one who likely taught them the basics. So for Em, it's like winning a prize. All those little dinners they have Em can have MC help. It's refreshing to be able to have someone else in the kitchen with her, it's something she hasn't had the luxury of in many years. (She's really relieved that MC and Cam won't starve. Cam could screw up warming soup, so for Em it's a blessing.)

❤️ Cam - Oh it's like he won the lottery, and it's Christmas and his birthday all at the same time. Cam is an eater, he loves food. An MC who can keep him fed is like the cherry on top for him. MC would have to tell Cam not to bother them late at night, when he's up all alone on his laptop. He just wants one snack, honest!!! He will use puppy dog eyes, don't let them deter you!

💙 G - To them it's a nice ability to have. In fact, G will be curious as to why they only get cake's on their birthday. Shouldn't they be allowed more? Do they look like someone who doesn't enjoy the delicious taste of dessert? They would want to watch MC cook from time to time, see if they can pick up some of the things they do and surprise them later with a nice home cooked meal.

💚 Kara - Finally, someone who can cook and not kill her! She's thankful all too much, this will be the one time you see her tearing up when she realizes she doesn't have to eat another cold sandwich for work. She would want to help, Kara wants to bake. She wants to be able to make cute cakes and cookies. But, she should never ever be allowed in the kitchen. She's worse than Cam.

💛 M - Won't even notice at first, even when they see MC in their kitchen. They have no idea why MC is in there, M kinda lives off easy food, until their moms send them something. Even then they kind of forget to eat. So imagine their surprise when MC has a five star meal ready for them when they finally look up from their computer. Absolutely flabbergasted. Can MC try and make recipes they've seen in anime? Is it weird for them to ask? Sorry MC, but your cooking expertise is going to be wrote about.

💜 Isaac - They aren't the worst in the kitchen, they can make some delicious stuff but Isaac sticks to what they know. They haven't had someone actually cook for them since their mother died. It would be a bitter topic at first, Isaac not wanting to seem thrilled by the notion. Then they would make the offhanded jokes that MC knows the way to their heart is through their stomach. But they would begin to truly appreciate it, and eventually want MC to try making their mothers signature dish. (The one Isaac makes when they feel lonely.)

🖤 Ardent - As a wiz in the kitchen, don't think that's going to impress him so easily. In fact, don't think that MC can make better baklava than him. It would become a competition, Ardent far too cocky for his own good thinking that there is no way MC can be better in the kitchen than him. When he finds out that he actually enjoys MC's food, he will play it off like he's allowing MC to cook for him. Like he's allowing them to do him a favor. (he will be making moans of how delicious mc's cooking is) play it off like he's sore from working out.

[avonne-writes]

would love to see nr. 18 nr. 22 and 37 from the prompt list together!! «truth or dare» with «secret relationship» where their relationship get exposed bc john gets dared to kiss someone else, and gale is possessive

After such a long wait, I finally had a chance to write this. Thank you for the prompt! 🩷 Teenage awkwardness ahead, from an outsider POV.

Truth or dare - HS AU, beginning of Year 10

Why is it that the jocks at Olivia's school throw the lamest parties ever? Her older sister always used to brag about how much fun she had at these things back in the day - two years ago - but Olivia's just bored. Like, it's an absolute snoozefest. Putting on makeup for this wasn’t worth it. Not to mention the two hours she spent straightening her hair and looking for a top that complemented her green eyes. With the shit music they're playing, the whole thing was just a waste of time.

They’re all sitting around in a cramped living room that smells like her brother's socks and the P.E. locker room, and most of the boys are not even cute at all. They all have such bony arms, ugh. Olivia is attracted to real men, older boys. At least two years older. That's where she draws the line. The guys in her year are way too immature for her attention.

Okay, fine, if she really had to choose, Gale Cleven isn’t half bad. He’s kinda fit, more muscular than these soccer boys who can’t stop talking about Messi or whatshisname. He’s got beautiful blue eyes. A piercing stare. Zapphire orbs that glitter with interest when they meet Olivia's… She sighs, taking a sip of her soda and taking a furtive look at Gale where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor across from her. She likes boys with an actual personality. Gale has shoulder-length blond hair, which is pretty unique, but he’s a bit too quiet. What if he's boring too?

Plus, dating Gale would come with the unfortunate side effect of having to spend time with Bucky. Olivia had a crush on him last year, but it faded after a while, and she hates him now. She doesn’t get why he's so popular when he's just a stupid player. He flirts but never actually asks you out. Her past self was dumb for falling for his bright smile and loud personality.

Maybe, going for someone quiet is just what she needs. No, not quiet - mysterious. Yes, that's a better word to describe Gale. He’s smart and sweet and fit, and he wears neat clothes, not just plain, wrinkled t-shirts like Bucky. He takes care of himself. And he doesn’t have acne either. She bets he smells nice. Probably like - like cedar and sandalwood and an earthy, musky scent that she would still smell on her clothes hours after kissing him…

Suddenly, Gale's gaze flickers over to her, so she looks down for a second. Heat rises to her cheeks. But, she read somewhere that if you can keep eye contact with a guy for at least 5 seconds, they will begin to like you, and if it goes up to 10 seconds, they fall in love with you. It sounded like a good method, so she has decided to go for it every chance she gets. Telling herself that she's a bold and pretty girl, she looks up and finds Gale's eyes again. One, two, three - Ah!

It was so close! But Bucky had to choose that moment to tug at a lock of Gale's hair. Can’t he just leave Gale alone? Why does he need everyone’s attention all the time?

Disappointed, Olivia turns back to her conversation with her friends, but she makes sure to glance at Gale every now and then, to give that eye contact another chance. For the most part, Gale doesn’t return her gaze, but she can understand why - Bucky's constantly talking to him, his pale face flushed, sweat on his neck and a permanent smile in his eyes. It would be sweet if it wasn’t so annoying. Like, obsessed much?

She wonders how those two get along so well. Gale is a sensitive boy, a romantic soul, she can tell, and Bucky's all about video games and whatnot. And the way he's sitting is so irritating too, can’t he close his legs? His thigh is brushing Gale's knee. It’s clearly making Gale uncomfortable, because he fidgets and bounces his leg a little. Trying to make Bucky catch on that he’s way too close, no doubt. He gives Bucky an awkward smile, looking at him from the corner of his eyes, and instead of realizing how overbearing he is, Bucky just hands Gale his own drink. As if he expects him to hold it for him or something. Ridiculous.

“Dave!” One of the soccer boys yells at their host over the thumping beat.

“What?”

“I'm fucking bored, man!”

“Go fuck off then!”

The boys flip each other off, and some of the others laugh as if it’s the funniest thing they've ever seen, even though this happens every single day at school. Olivia rolls her eyes. Is it some weird male ritual to insult each other over literally nothing while the others laugh like a pack of demented hyenas? This is why she has given up on these dumbasses.

Sweet Gale would never act like this. He’s a gentleman. The kind of man who'd give his lady a thousand red roses on Valentine's before telling her he loves her. Olivia can feel this in her heart.

When she looks at him again, she sees him pull his knees up and rest his elbows on them, then his head on his folded arms, looking at Bucky. With his usual clueless grin, Bucky says something to him that Olivia doesn’t catch, then he bends one of his knees to bump it into Gale's.

Oh my God, Olivia thinks, this boy really can’t take a hint.

She has suspected for a while that Bucky is socially impaired, not in the introverted weirdo way but like, he’s too much and he doesn’t realize it. How his friends put up with it, she has no idea. But it's clear that Gale is pulling back now, because he pushes Bucky's knee away, and when Bucky grabs his wrist in retaliation, he starts scuffling with him with one hand.

“O-kay, who wants to play spin the bottle?” Dave calls out. A mix of cheers and boos follow.

Excited, Olivia perks up. Gosh, this would be the perfect opportunity!

Her mind speedruns a daydream for her. She imagines Gale spinning the bottle, biting his plump lip nervously as he waits for it to slow down. When it rolls to a stop pointing at Olivia, he’d relax though. He might have been hoping for this, for a chance to get closer to her. He might even give her a shy smile. As everyone watches, he’d take her face in his gentle hands, wait for her to nod to make sure it's okay, and then he'd lean in ever so slowly and press a tender kiss to her lips. He’d pull back an inch after a second, but he wouldn’t be able to let her go just yet - he’d close the distance again, not able to hide his passion any longer.

Pleasepleaseplease, she chants like a mantra, curling her legs under herself to sit as attractively as one can on an ugly IKEA rug, leaning against a couch. Her best friend shares a look with her and giggles as Benny DeMarco chugs down half a bottle of Fanta just to have something they can use to spin. That one's going to be an alcoholist, Olivia has no doubt. And he doesn’t even have blue eyes. Not her type.

As Dave lowers the volume of his trash music - finally! - some of the other girls start protesting the game choice. Olivia narrows her eyes at them. She doesn’t mind giving a quick peck to a couple of clumsy fuckboys if she gets to kiss Gale in the end. But if these girls ruin this for her -

“Fine! Fine, Jesus.” Dave raises his hands in surrender, and the girls stop whining. “How about truth or dare then?”

That seems good enough for everyone. Spin the bottle would have given Olivia a bigger chance at getting to kiss Gale, but whatever, truth or dare isn’t so bad either, and some of the questions might be funny at least. Again, she tries to catch Gale's eyes, running a hand through her long brown hair, but he’s looking at the floor and smiling at whatever Bucky's whispering in his ear. After a moment, he laughs and tells Bucky to shut up.

Glaring at Bucky, Olivia wills him to listen this time.

The game is pretty tame at first. A few people are asked if they have a crush on anybody, Dave is dared to show them his underwear, which is something Olivia will have to scourge from her mind, then her best friend has to tell them her most embarrassing memory. It’s quite funny. As they get more into the game, the questions start getting better too, until finally, the bottle lands on Gale. Olivia can feel her cheeks burn with excitement. Predictably, he chooses truth first - but that’s okay, because he, too, is asked the usual question:

“Do you have a crush on anyone?”

Some of their classmates groan, and Dave throws a handful of chips at the person who asked this lame question again, so the boy adds, “In this room?”

Olivia holds her breath. She tries to tell herself that it doesn't matter if Gale says no, it’s not like he’s the only guy in the world, but her heart still races as Gale's lips twitch into an unreadable smile. So sexy and mysterious!

“Yeah, I do.”

A few whoops and laughter follow, and Bucky, obnoxious as ever, whistles. Something about that makes Gale laugh. The way his nose crinkles is the most adorable thing Olivia has ever seen. Suddenly, she wonders if the knowing looks Gale shares with Curt and DeMarco are a sign that the boys know who the lucky girl is. It has to be a sign. She tries to see if any of them look at a particular girl, and she flushes when DeMarco's eyes land on her. She tries to read his gaze for long seconds, but when he smiles, she glances away, embarrassed. If it’s her, she'll know soon enough!

They play a few more rounds without anything interesting happening. When it’s her turn at last, Olivia chooses dare, but her task is to drink a sip from a disgusting concoction they mix for her using ketchup and soda. The smell alone is enough to make her gag, but she pinches her nose shut and does it. It's absolutely vile, and she hates how it lingers in her mouth.

Washing it down with water doesn’t help much either. She's on the brink of getting upset about it, when, like a literal knight in shining armor, Gale reaches across the space between them and offers her a bubblegum.

“Oh.” Olivia blushes, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as she looks at Gale’s kind expression. When she reaches out, her fingers brush Gale's. “Thank you, Gale.”

Even saying his name makes her heart flutter. And then the way he smiles at her in return!

As she pops the gum in her mouth, he also puts one in his, and at that moment, she feels a synchronicity she has never felt before. It’s an incredible feeling to be so attuned to someone that without talking or practicing, you just mirror each other instinctually. It can't be a coincidence. Even if he's not doing it on purpose, Gale is connected to her, she can tell.

Gosh, what if it really happens tonight? Most of her previous crushes ended in disappointment - khm, Bucky - but this time, she has much higher hopes. She knows her senses are getting better, that she can pick up on all the signs easier. Tonight might just be the night.

She feels giddy from this thought, right until it’s Bucky's turn to play.

“Truth or dare?” Curt asks him with a mischievous look in his eyes.

Bucky's trademark cocky grin makes an appearance. “Gimme your worst, Biddick. Dare.”

Curt’s smile widens. “Take Buck's bubblegum out of his mouth and put it in yours without using your hands.”

“Ewww!” Most of the room alternates between gagging, laughing and looking at Curt in awe for coming up with such a disgusting task. Even with her small crush on Gale, Olivia wouldn’t do it, it’s too much. Although… Actually, if it got her a kiss, maybe she would.

As she goes through this thought process, she comes to the horrifying realization that Bucky would have to kiss Gale to complete the dare. She blanches. It wouldn’t mean anything, of course, but poor Gale, this isn’t even his dare.

One of the girls takes out her phone and starts recording. Bucky just winks at her like he’s not fazed at all by the dare. He’s such a fuckboy, honestly. Olivia hates how that behaviour still makes something in her belly stir. She watches with her eyebrows trying to disappear under her bangs as Bucky leans into Gale's space, looks at his lips, then bats his eyelashes at him in an over-the-top gesture. Gale just looks amused.

“Can you please give me your gum, Buck?”

“Hey!” Curt tries to interrupt through a surprised laugh.

“You didn't say I couldn’t use his hands.” Bucky shrugs, still grinning, and opens his mouth. His tongue sticks out.

To Olivia's astonishment, Gale doesn't protest. He snickers, then reaches a hand up to his lips. In front of their disgusted eyes, he takes the chewed-up gum out of his mouth and puts it in Bucky's.

“Fuck, that's disgusting.” Dave chortles gleefully as Bucky leans back on his hands, chewing away with a smug expression on his face. The rest of the room gags, cringes and laughs until Bucky spins the bottle, then they move on to the next round.

Olivia watches Gale's face for discomfort, but he seems to have found the dare funny. He shakes his head at Bucky fondly. When his eyes find Olivia's, he gives her a sheepish smile. It makes the butterflies in her stomach go crazy with exhilaration. She grins back.

Although it started out as a total flop, the night feels like a dream now. And in dreams… well, anything can happen, right?

The game picks up after that. The dares get more challenging, the questions juicier, and even though Olivia doesn’t get the kind of opportunities she's waiting for, she finds herself having fun. Being as attentive as he is, Gale always watches the person whose turn it is, not Olivia, but she finds that endearing. She wishes he'd catch her eyes more often, but it's okay, quiet boys usually struggle with eye contact. Except for DeMarco, apparently, because anytime she glances his way, he’s looking back. She wonders if he's just zoned out or something or if there’s something else there. He’s not that ugly, if she thinks about it…

Another ripple of laughter pulls her out of her thoughts. The bottle lands on Bucky again, and he says dare before Dave has even finished asking the question.

At Bucky’s response, Dave wiggles his eyebrows. “Kiss the hottest girl in this room on the lips.”

It's simple enough. And surely, for someone like Bucky who - according to the gossip Olivia heard - can’t go without a girlfriend for more than a month, this can’t be too hard to complete. A part of her aches in the hope that it's her. Not that she wants Bucky Egan, dumb jock extraordinaire, to kiss her. It’s just nice to be kissed, that's all. And it would be flattering if he chose her as the hottest. Better yet, it might make Gale jealous.

Oh Gosh, wouldn’t that be perfect? What if Bucky started leaning in and Gale pulled him away at the last moment just to lean in himself and claim the prize? Everyone would be so shocked!

Widening her eyes innocently, Olivia watches Bucky's face for a sign. She ignores the wave of feelings that take her back to last year when she had that ill-advised crush on him. She waits for him to notice her, but he seems unable to look away from Gale’s eyes. This time, they aren't smiling. Something serious flickers between them. Bucky's eyebrows draw together in a way that makes him look like a puppy with gangly legs and arms. To Olivia, Gale's expression is unreadable, but when Gale’s lips purse, Bucky turns back to Dave.

“Sorry, man, gotta forfeit.”

“Aww, what, you getting stage fright?” Dave laughs at his own lame joke. “I was going easy on you!”

“Dude, you were just not inclusive enough.” One of the other boys pipes up. “Should’ve said hottest person.”

“Oh, right. You just want to kiss me, huh, Egan?” Dave makes an annoying kissy noise.

Bucky grins again, his previous discomfort gone. “In your dreams, Davey-boy.”

“You bet.” Dave snorts, then gestures at the circle of them sitting around. “Okay, I dare you to kiss the hottest person in the room.”

Again, Bucky hesitates. It's confusing. Olivia doesn’t know what to make of that. It’s as if she's missing a crucial piece of the puzzle, something she should have noticed already but ended up overlooking. She's still trying to make sense of it when her night comes crashing down around her like a sudden storm that leaves you shivering and cold to the bone.

Bucky reaches up with a loving but sure hand, cups Gale's cheek and pulls him into a kiss like it’s something he has done before.

Their lips meet and part with a soft, damp sound that feels loud in the sudden silence that descends on their group.

It might as well be the sound of Olivia's heart being torn apart. A deep ache blooms in her chest where her joy was planted earlier tonight. Her mind refuses to accept what she's seeing. It’s not a first kiss. It’s sure as hell not a kiss forced on two boys by a dare, it’s not a prank taken a step too far. They've done this before. A dozen, a hundred, or a thousand times. They know which way to turn their heads to make it comfortable, how to tilt their chin for the sweetest contact, how to stroke the other's hair to earn a smile.

They know how to kiss each other and they enjoy it.

With a small smile, Gale draws back an inch, but Bucky doesn’t let him go too far - he pushes forward to chase Gale's lips. Right in front of them all, Gale returns this by opening his mouth, and Bucky takes the chance to lick inside and kiss the taste of bubblegum on Gale’s tongue as if he forgot they had an audience to watch it all.

A cacophony erupts around them, everyone talking over each other in excitement and confusion.

Please tell me this was just a dare, Olivia's breath hitches in pain. Shocked into silence, she starts fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Only parts of reality seem to reach her consciousness - the words boyfriend and 8 months, and the sight of Gale's hand in Bucky's, thumb stroking back and forth. How? When did this happen? Why didn’t she notice it all this time? It's so pathetic that she wants to laugh at herself. She managed to develop crushes on two boys who were secretly dating each other.

Universe, is this supposed to be a sign?

Oh, how it hurts that she's always the one who turns out to be delusional.

As she mopes there quietly, watching the sweet smile on Gale’s face, the sudden warmth of a shoulder pressing to hers draws her attention away. When she turns to look up, her green eyes meet brown.

“You okay?” DeMarco asks. The concern in his gentle voice sounds like a balm to her broken heart.

She takes a deep breath and musters a smile. He feels warm and solid, someone you can rely on.

Well. Maybe Benny DeMarco isn’t such a bad option after all. Bucky and Gale can have each other, Olivia's probably better off like this anyway.

The next party can only be luckier than this, she's sure.

[lastoneout]

It's also like super fucking infuriating to see people continue to argue that generative AI is the best way for disabled and/or poor people to make art because like, you know what helps make art more accessible? Giving poor and disabled people money.

Like take me for instance, I'm disabled. I get severe migraines and intense leg/back pain if I sit at my computer for too long, my hEDS makes holding pens and pencils hard, my ADHD makes it hard for me to start certain tasks and/or stop them before I potentially hurt myself, my neck also hurts if I look down too much, my dyslexia AND my ADHD both make it difficult to keep track of a story as I write and use correct spelling and grammar, plus, I need to prioritize taking care of myself and going to appointments and keeping my house clean and that takes up a lot of my free time. All of these things make creating the kind of art I want to create difficult if not occasionally impossible.

So what do you think would solve my problems better? Giving me money so that I can have a drawing tablet and desk chair that won't hurt my neck or back, another tablet + pen and a lap table and comfortable body pillows for drawing in bed, easier transportation to my doctors appointments, effective treatment for my chronic pain and migraines, the ability hire someone to help me keep my house clean, a spelling/grammar checker that isn't complete ass, and a therapist and psychatrist who can help me manage my ADHD better?

Or an AI program that takes my input and spits out a drawing or story made of stolen content glued together that, in the case of the art, I cannot meaningfully edit without starting over, which also destroys the environment in the process?

Seems pretty obvious to me. I don't need AI, I need help to manage the things that are actually stopping me from being able to write and draw.

Or take my mom. She's had severe rhumatoid arthritis since she was a small child, her hands are deformed and she relies on her wheelchair to get around. She doesn't need AI to help her paint, she needs special paint brushes she can actually hold, a table her wheelchair will fit at, and someone to help her with personal hygiene/keep her house clean/take her to doctors appointments so she actually has free time to paint.

Does that poor kid growing up in public housing with parents who are too poor to afford art classes or supplies or to send them to college really need a computer program to draw for them, or do they need support to help them take those classes, buy drawing supplies, and money so they can go to college.

Blind people can paint, deaf musicians exist, people with missing limbs find all sorts of ways to make art, people with parkinson's paint with typewriters, my mother can't hold a normal paintbrush and she makes some of the most beautiful watercolor paintings I've ever seen, Van Gogh had bipolar disorder and only sold like one painting when he was alive, I mean for real how many different artists have you heard of who's biographies start with them being born into poverty?

This is not meant to be inspiration porn, these people are just ones who were able to find ways to make art despite their struggles. They shouldn't have had to struggle at all, but god imagine how many more artisrs and writers we could have had if none of them had to overcome those struggles. It breaks my heart to think of all the wonderful art that never got to exist because no one helped the people who could have made it actually have the time, money, support, and safety they needed to make it. AI would not have saved them because making art isn't the problem, being disadvantaged is the problem. Living in a world that refuses to make room for you is the problem. Being fucking poor is the problem. Humans have always found ways to make art despite huge barriers, the solution isn't a computer that makes art for them, it's SUPPORT AND MONEY SO THEY CAN OVERCOME THOSE BARRIERS AND MAKE THEIR OWN ART.

As a last example: I love watching dancing and I would love to be able to dance, but I'm terrible at it(I got kicked off a dance team for not being able to learn the dance at all despite spending weeks on it, idk my brain wasn't made for dancing) and my disabled body makes it more pain than pleasure if not actively dangerous, anyway. Having a robot dressed to look like me dance next to me while I get to watch would not make me feel like I'm getting to dance. It would actually be extremely fucking demoralizing and frustrating. I would hate that!!

Having an AI spit out a painting or book would not make me feel like I got to paint or write a book. It's a fucking anamatronic doll running on stolen ideas and it will never be the same as getting to actually expirience the joy of creating art first hand. AI is not the solution. Helping people who need it is the solution. And I am CONSTANTLY pissed to think about all the time and money that goes into these fucking AI programs that would be better spent helping disabled and poor people get the help they need so they can make art themselves, all while the people running the nightmare plagiarism pollution machines pretend that their horrible inventions exist to help people like me.

[bunnys-kisses]

virtual - toji fushiguro

pairing: toji fushiguro x fem!reader rating: 18+ summary: Toji Fushiguro had his vices. He was a man of many of them, drinking, gambling, the occasional smoke, and the womanizing. Oh, the womanizing. Toji loved his fresh meat of the week, the pretty thing with daddy issues that hung onto his strong arm. But he had another vice, the kind that was nobody’s business. tags: pwp, cam worker!reader, hair pulling, biting, dark(ish) themes, toji is your number one fan, 3.1k

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Toji Fushiguro had his vices. He was a man of many of them, drinking, gambling, the occasional smoke, and the womanizing. Oh, womanizing. Toji loved his fresh meat of the week, the pretty thing with daddy issues that hung onto his strong arm. But he had another vice, the kind that was nobody’s business.

He loved a cute cam girl on a sketchy website under the username ‘DeerlyDoe’. He had seen your face a few times, but he had always seen your body. And he liked what he saw. He loved a girl with a little meat on her bones who knew how to use those curves.

He wanted to do unsavory things to you, nothing illegal or heinous. He wanted to see what those glossed lips could do. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he did want to make you scream his name.

  “Shit,” He grunted to himself as he pleasured himself in front of his shitty computer. The internet in the hole he lived in was terrible, your perfect body was all pixels but he couldn’t deny the heat in his body from seeing you.

He relaxed in his chair and stroked his cock. he was a quiet tipper, he sent tips anonymously. He didn’t need to draw attention to himself, even though the tips were large. The excitement in your voice when you saw the number was enough for him.

Currently you are riding a dildo that you stuck to the tile floor of your kitchen. He watched your body shake with each movement. It made his cock tense in his hand, thick like a pipe and solid like a brick. He groaned through grit teeth as he continued to stroke himself.

His face felt hot and a bit of drool ran down his chin in his pursuit for pleasure. The pleasure was building up in his gut the closer he came to climax. And he could tell you were getting close as well. He began to edge himself so he could have the pleasure of finishing alongside you. There were many things he’d do in order to see it in real life. To watch your body move before his very eyes.

He heard your moans get higher and before he knew it you were finishing all over the dildo. You soaked the toy in your wetness. The sounds that followed your aching pussy around the dildo brought Toji over the edge.

He created a mess to the front of his sweatpants, but he felt relaxed. He dropped his arms over both sides of the chair and exhaled deeply. “Yeah.” He said breathlessly.

-

Toji never imagined that he’d ever meet you in real life. He knew you were located in Japan, but he ever expected to see you in Shibuya. It was late spring and the rain came down in sheets, but Toji was crawling the streets looking for a way to kill time.

At a crosswalk, he noticed someone beside him. He looked over and saw a familiar sight. Now of someone that he knew, but his little fixation on the internet. His eyes went wide at the sight of you. He was in disbelief at the sight but then he noticed that you were trying to protect yourself from the rain.

Without thinking he tilted his umbrella to cover your head. What he noticed next was how beautiful your eyes looked when you gazed up at him. He never expected to run into someone to beautiful. So how the hell did Toji end up back at your place with you digging through your belongings to find something big enough to change in. He thought it was impossible for you. You were so small, and he was so big. How was he even going to fit in anything you owned?

The DeerlyDoe was in front of him, digging through his expensive wardrobe to find something for him to wear. How endearing. He watched your ass as you were bent over. He even was a little wiggle as you dug further into the wardrobe.

He wondered how expensive your clothes were, and how much would you have lost if he tore the items off of you? The thought made him smirk but he dropped it when you turned around with a simple compression shirt and shorts in hand.

  “That's all I have, it’s from an ex-boyfriend. I’m glad I didn’t throw it out.” You giggled sheepishly.

The idea of you having a boyfriend made his chest freeze. But he composed himself with a cough and replied, “Well, I’m glad you had it. There was no need to do this much for me. Thank you.”

 “You gave up your umbrella and got all wet! How could I not repay you?”

He smiled as gently as he could, “Fair point. But I am still thankful.” He started to strip his clothes off and you observed his partially naked body.

You swallowed and felt heat rise in your cheeks. There was a strange man in your home. You tried to create a little room for him to change, but he kept getting closer. Like he enjoyed your closeness. You felt your heart stammer.

What were you thinking letting this strange man into your home? But those dark eyes and that scar. He was a bad boy, and you had your little fixation of bad boys. You swallowed once more then smiled at him. “I hope it fits.” You said, “You can take it home with you.“

He chuckled softly, ”Actually, I was wondering if I could take you home. I think you'd look good on my bed.“

The blush felt like it reached your scalp as you covered your mouth with your hands. You let out a small 'eep' noise from the embarrassment. Which only in turn made him laugh.

Once he was changed, he went over to you and took your hands away from your mouth. He looked down at you as he held your wrists probably a little tighter than for someone as delicate as you.

  “No one invites strange men into their homes unless they want their ducts clean or their pussy ate.” He grinned at you, enamored by your shyness. It was so much different than the woman in the live streams. But he still loved it.

  “Mister Fushiguro, sir.” You squeaked. He had told you his name when you walked back to your home. He held your wrists to your head to keep you steady, and he leaned in for a solid kiss. Your eyes closed and you felt the hammering in your chest.

By instinct you held onto him as you leaned up to meet his kiss more. The shirt felt familiar, but the muscles underneath did not. You gasped into the kiss as he cradled the back of your head.

When he pulled away you asked, “Is it too late to ask you to clean my ducts?” You giggled nervously.

He ran a thumb across your bottom lip to see if the lip gloss stayed on. He replied, “Interesting.“

  ”What do you mean?“ You asked curiously.

  ”Don't worry. As much as I love the clothes you've given to me. I think it's best if I take them off. How does that sound?“

You looked into those dark eyes and nodded, anything for him. You saw him smile, it almost looked terrifying, like you were the prey and he was the predator. He kissed your lips once more before he started to take off the clothes you lent him.

Your heart raced at the idea of being intimate with this man. It had been so long since you had actual sex with someone. Usually you did things alone in your tiny apartment. But here was a man, a very handsome man, taking off his clothes in front of you.

The sight of his muscles as he took off the already tight shirt made you gasp. He was perfection, he wa danger, he made your head spin. It wasn't until his hands were back on you that you realized that maybe you should get undressed as well.

You felt heat in your body as you removed your sundress and left you bare in a simple bra and underwear. Your breathing was growing rapid as the heat in the main room grew warmer. You whispered, “I'm sorry if I don't look very good.“ You crossed your arms self consciously.

He pulled your arms away from you and held both wrists in one hand. He leaned in and tucked hair behind your ear, “I don't want to hear you say that ever again. If I didn't want a taste of that pussy, then I wouldn't be here now. I want you to be a good girl for me.” His breath was hot and left tingles down your spine.

He told you to leave him in the bedroom and you did as you were told. Afterall you were a good girl.

You couldn't believe what was going on, but a curious part of you went along with it. You were used to performing in front of a camera, but to have the real thing sent excitement through you. You blushed as you opened the bedroom door and Toji pressed his front against your back.

  “You want me to touch you?” He asked seductively.

You nodded, “Please, sir.” Then moaned when he started to feel up your breasts. You held onto his strong forearms, you could barely get your hands around them. You could feel his erection against your back, which made you grow even more flustered.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You know, I watch you perform almost every night. You help me relax, I always wondered what that pussy tasted like.”

  “You mean-”

  “Yeah, DeerlyDoe. I know that your pussy can take a beating.” He smirked into your ear before he bit your neck. He played with your nipples over your bra, “I've had my fantasies about you, what I'd do to you. Do you think tonight we can try some of them out?”

  “I've never had sex a fan before.“ You admitted.

He chuckled, ”Don't worry, I'll go easy. Maybe you'll like it so much that you'll never even think about having sex with a fan again.“ His voice was hot in your ear as he continued to touch you. His grip was rough as he played with your breasts.

You took off the underwear you wore and got onto the bed. You laid out for him to see every curve of your body. You watched him lick his lips as rain battered your window. Your nipples were hard from his teasing and between your legs was slick from the arousal.

He smirked once more, ”What a sight. A proper whore, ready to accept any cock she's given.“ He watched you grow flustered once more and he approached the bed. His hard cock bobbed with every step, ”I hope you know, I like it bare. I think you can tell, no condoms fit me.“

You swallowed and nodded. You watched him get into bed and you felt his length graze your thigh as he got closer. Your body felt electric and hot. Your heart was racing. You weren't too sure how it was all going to fit inside of you, but you had to try. Your core throbbed for the feeling of it inside of you.

  ”Dirty girl.” He remarked as he kissed your neck. His teeth dug into your skin, hard enough to leave an indent. You rubbed your thighs together in anticipation. He groaned against you, you felt amazing. He could feel the sweat on his back as he pinned you down to the bed.

  “Please, sir. Fushiguro, sir.“ You whimpered like a puppy which only aroused him further. His cock moved against your thigh once more and he caught a hint of how wet you were between your legs.

He groaned, the time for foreplay was over. He kept your arms pinned above your head with one large hand and your legs tightly locked around his waist. He gazed down at you with lust marking his face. With his free hand he guided his cock into your sweet pussy. He felt the stretch of your sex and he groaned.

You on the other hand were tense and it ached. You couldn't grip onto the bed for support. Your back arched but he kept you pinned down to the bed. Your heart raced as he sank himself inside of you. It was a tad painful, but it felt so good.

  ”Good girl.“ He groaned, he could've climaxed so easily but he edged himself not to. With one hand on your hip and the other holding you down, he began to thrust his hips. His cock pushed further inside of you and you moaned so loudly. Your noises made a shiver run up his spine to ecstasy.

  ”Please, sir.”

  “I know you can take it, I've seen you take more than this.” He growled. He recalled every dildo and toy you ever used on yourself. You once told the stream you liked the pain. He watched you moaning as you gasped loudly.

Your eyes squeezed shut as the two on you fucked on the bed. The bed creaked from the movements and eventually Toji sloppily made out with you to shut you up. You felt the pleasure and the pain mix together in a way that left you speechless. You tightened your legs around the other man and tried to meet his pace.

Your heart raced and when he parted the kiss you said, “Fushiguro, ah, please.”

He smirked down at you, and your eyes gazed upon the scar on his lip. Part of you wanted to lick it, but he kept you pinned to the bed. You whimpered loudly some more and Toji let go of your hands but found his large, calloused hand in your hair. He yanked on the  strands to pull you up towards him.

He held your hair in his hand as he bit your bottom lip and kissed you. You whined into the kiss from the subtle pain across your lips. Your heart hammered in your chest as he dropped you back on the bed and leaned back a little to get a better angle of his thrusts.

You saw stars as his cock hit every sweet spot inside of you. It felt like his cock was in the back of your throat the way he was moving inside of you. The sheer size took the wind out of you with each powerful thrust. You were becoming addicted to his feelings for him. It was arousing.

 “Good girl.” He said with a low growl to his voice.

You were sweaty all over as your body moved up and down on the bed. You gasped loudly as his cock bulled your cervix, it was so different when it was a real person rather than a toy. You managed to get  a hold of the covers under you and anchored yourself as his thrusts got more aggressive.

He groaned against you as he continued to move his body. His thrusts became erratic in a pursuit for climax. You gasped, moaned and whimpered which only encouraged him. His body throbbed with a need for release. This felt like nothing he had ever felt before, and he had his fair share of pussy.

He could tell why you were so good at what you did. His breathing was rapid as he held onto your hips with both hands and pushed his cock as deep as it would go. Sweat dripped from his hair down his back muscles.

There was so much he wanted to do to you, right now was just the taster. He licked his lips with want as he watched your heavy breathing. You were a total slut, you loved anything that would stuff those holes of yours.

He wanted to bite, bruise and mark you. To make you his. He'd let you do your shows but maybe his name tattooed on your thigh would be a reminder to your viewers that you were a taken woman. The thought made his cock throb. Maybe he could convince you of that. But first he'd have to break your brain while fucking it out of your skull.

He hunched over and dug his hands into the bed under you. He growled as he felt the pleasure race through his body. This felt good, you felt good. His muscles moved with each thrust of his hips. He knew he was getting close.

As were you.

The sex was rough, extreme to an extent. But you were both lost in the vastness of pleasure that you two kept going. You reached out for him and made out with him once more. He groaned into the kiss and put one hand in your hair again.

He pulled on it and you groaned into the kiss. Your pussy clenched around him and he made a noise that came from deep inside of him. That felt good.

The best continued to creak as the two of you fucked like two horny animals. The feeling was becoming overwhelming and you knew that you were both going to orgasm soon. You pulled away from the kiss and panted wildly.  

  “You're so good.' He grumbled, “Such a good hole to fuck. I might have to keep you to myself. See what else those hips can do. I'll need a good fuck after the work I do.” He grabbed your breasts so tightly that you knew they were going to put purple bruises come morning.

You whined and arched your pain from the pain, but yet it still made you core throb for him. With another heavy thrust you came all over his cock, you coated it in your wetness. You let out a high-pitched moan that was more erotic than anything that he ever saw online.

You went laxed on the bed but still held onto the sheets as you let Toji use your body to achieve his own orgasm. The bed continued to move, with it hitting the wall. Your breathing was heavy and your mind felt hazy.

With a few more thrusts into your tight cunt. he finished inside of you. He groaned as he did so before he leaned forward once more and gave you a searing kiss. You two made out with his softening cock still inside of you as the both of you came down from your orgasms.

  “Sir.”

  “Good girl, I hope you're ready for more because I'm not done with you. Now be a good girl and get on all fours for me. I want to see what ass.” He groaned against you before he pulled you in for another searing kiss.

You knew that you'd be seeing a lot of Toji Fushiguro after this, he may have been a fan but now he's making you feel really good and not from high donations.

[dunmeshistash]

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

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

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

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

Well yeah.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[aria-greenhoodie]

Time stuck au but it’s Pacifica meeting the Anti-Cipher society. And she is becoming Abigale’s apprentice in engineering.

I thought I DELETED THIS ASK but I DIDNT it was just HIDDEN FOR SOME REASON! anyway this idea has captivated me, I have yet to draw Pac with the whole society (I WILL) but here’s some doodles of her and Abbey!!

Click for Quality!

Also some extra musings under the cut…..

The Northwests travel to Illinois one holiday. Pacifica takes some time off from her insufferable parents to find someplace worth visiting. Unfortunately, it seems like nothing in Illinois is worth visiting. She eventually finds herself at 333 North East West Drive, a functionally abandoned historical building, “For Rent” sign collecting dust in its windows. Something catches her eye on the ground - what looks to be a normal tape measurer. I say “looks to be,” because it is in fact a TIME tape-measurer, albeit a half-broken one.

Pacifica ends up in 1901 using the half-broken time tape measurer and manages to break it completely. Luckily for her, Abigale finds her and agrees to help fix it… and teach Pacifica some mechanical know-how in the process!

Abigale doesn’t know that she’s Pacifica’s ancestor. Pacifica is pretty certain Abigale Blackwing is Abigale Northwest, but doesn’t say anything because Abigale Northwest was always considered a bit of a stain on the family, half-buried by history. Pacifica doesn’t want to let Abigale know she’s been erased, and honestly, is still a little bought-in to her family’s philosophy of sweeping “unsavory” people or things under the rug at this point.

Pacifica is actually pretty damn good at mechanics! She takes a second to get a hang of it, but once she grasps the basics she learns the rest shockingly quick. Abigale is so proud.

Pacifica actually helps enable some semblance of workshop-safety in the society, what with her modern knowledge that lead, mercury, and arsenic are all deadly toxins that you shouldn’t be putting in “anti-cipher tonic” to guzzle and/or rub on your skin.

The rest of the society LOVE Pacifica. That’s their collective daughter now.

Jessamine teaches her how to shoot! Pacifica isn’t a very good natural aim, but Jessie is patient and knows skill comes with practice.

Horace is so charmed by her, he really takes up a sort of father figure. He would mow down entire countries for this kid. Pacifica doesn’t know how to take Horace at first, since she’s so used to her real dad sucking ass, but she becomes close with him fast!

Thurburt is SO her silly weird uncle. Thurburt was always a clumsy, accident-prone fool, but somehow around Pacifica he becomes even more slapstickly-inclined. Pacifica thinks he’s doing it on purpose to get a laugh out of her. He is. It always works.

Even O’Pimm, the crotchety old drunk that he is, gets a kick out of her! He likes her honesty. If Pac thinks something’s daft or dull, she’ll say it. O’Pimm is glad to not be the ONLY one with sense around the society anymore.

And of course, it goes without saying that Abigale ADORES Pac. Abigale never wanted to be a mother, but teaching Pacifica the ropes of engineering and working her through her problems made her reconsider that thought.

Pacifica actually manages to fix the time tape measurer all on her own one night. It takes 2 weeks for her to finally tell the society. She almost doesn’t want to leave.

Abigale was the one to convince her to go home. “The future needs you, Pacifica. It needs brilliant, talented girls like you. You’ve got people waiting on you, but more than that, you’ve got a whole WORLD waiting for you! Live your life, Pacifica, your story doesn’t end in this time. Promise me you’ll make some change in that future of yours, rather than feel trapped in the past with us…”

Pacifica is a lot different when she returns. She’s suddenly way into tinkering, something she keeps secret from her family. She’s also a lot happier, and a lot less concerned about mistakes (though she’s more worried when her parents are in eye or earshot…)

Pacifica starts to really get interested in the story of Abigale Northwest. She unearths a lot of hidden secrets about her life. Most of it isn’t good, especially now. At least Pacifica knows the truth, now. (I have a VERY specific idea as to how Abbey’s life was after the society disbanded and it is NOT pretty. When I post it I’ll add a link here)

She wishes Abigale could have had her happy ending. She wonders if she had stayed behind, could she have changed things? She considered using the time tape measurer to go back more times then she’d like to admit. But she made a promise, didn’t she? Her job is here in the future, not stuck in the past…

[crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington]

hello! i’m love your post and arts so much! I look at your posts after a hard day and my mood immediately changes to excellent. can I ask a couple of questions?

which pairing with Ethan do you prefer?

and… can we get to know you better? a little biography?

Thank you for your time! I'll be waiting for new arts! (sorry if i made mistakes, my english is not so good. im russian)

i like basically every ship with ethan! it mostly depends on the mood im in, but if im being honest, mithan, winterfield, and wintersberg gets frustrating to think about because they all dont treat ethan well canonically... lethan is fun because they have never met and i can make my own assumptions!

i used to like wintersberg the most and i still do like it, i just have expanded my horizons to other ships as well...., its mostly like a punchline to me though. they have the funniest potential which is why a majority of their posts is just joke comics. i do not like how people try to erase how karl is arrogant and egotistical tho. thats like removing the flavor.... the way karl acts is just very funny to me, hes so lame in a good way and i like how everytime he talks to ethan it sounds like hes twirling his hair and kicking his feet. canonically speaking, karl was very much in the wrong for trying to use rose and not elaborating and i will die on this hill. ethan is not in the wrong for being disgusted and angry that karl would ever try and propose that in the deal. karl is very arrogant so when ethan says no to him it makes him mad and he tries to use fear to get ethan to take his deal (kicking his chair and warning him) i like karl, i like how messed up and arrogant he is but i dislike how people try to portray him as a nice guy. however, in a AU where everythings the same except he doesnt try to use rose i do enjoy the dynamic they could have, especially if the teamed up (not with the deal where they use rose. ethan wouldnt agree unless karl never involved rose in the first place). karl is just a very entertaining character and i like him a lot, hes funny and his personality can be extremely hilarious

mia and ethan is pretty tragic and thinking about it too much makes me a bit sad, imo in a reality where ethan survives re8, he needs to divorce mia. im not saying ethan needs to hate mia and never talk to her again i just dont think they should be so intimate together because of her behavior... please do not take this as anti mia. they loved each other dearly but it wasnt healthy. their relationship was kept afloat by lies and mia doesnt change even though she deals with the consequences of her own actions in re7. she actively tries to hide her past from ethan and is mostly focused on trying to move on and have a normal life even if ethan will have to live the rest of his life in the dark.

she loves her family so much, shes very afraid of them leaving her so she hides all the bad things in the hopes that they wont leave. its selfish, its human, its real, her character is so amazing and i love her. she doesnt learn from re7 and hides important information from ethan again. i geniunly think they should have gotten divorced after re8 if ethan had survived. its tragic and its sad but they love each other so much. it sad because they both geniunly love rose so much but they themselves shouldnt be together. its just sad to think about it. whenever i draw them it usually takes place before re7. they should have divorced on good terms and shared custody of rose.........

ethan and chris is also frustrating to think about... chris is a major jerk in re8, whenever i draw it, its under a unspoken AU that chris did not behave the way he did in re8. his weird behavior in re8 is probably for a meta reason imo. capcom wanted to set up a twist villian so they make chris very vague and unesscarily cruel. while its frustrating that they turned chris into a jerk for the sake of a twist, it still happens in canon and i will forever roll my eyes whenever i see him on screen. he did what he thought was best but imo, execution matters more than the intentions. same applies to mia. they both did things that hurt ethan because they thought it would be the best but in the end they just hurt ethan.

all the ships ive discussed with people ethan has met canonically just makes it look like i dont even like the ships... LOL ... ethan just has horrible luck with the people he meets i guess... but i do enjoy the ships and drawing them, but again all of them come with the canon baggage that ends up making me sad because everyone treats ethan poorly whether they had good intentions or not

which is why leon and ethan is the most fun to draw without getting stressed... LOL... they have never met but just drawing what i think their dynamic would be like is very fun.

please dont take this post personally, this isnt a post declaring why ur fave ship sucks, this is just my own personal preferences and in the end i draw all of them anyways

if i had to rank the ships based on drawing silly comics it would be

wintersberg

mithan

lethan

winterfield

wintersberg has the funniest potential just because of karl and mithan can be funny if u water it down to "i love my wife so much" and said wife comes home with suspicious amounts of hard cash

i enjoy making joke comics far to much

if i were to rank the ships based on how healthy they would actually be for ethan it would be

lethan

winterfield, mithan, wintersberg (no particular order)

sorry 😭

leon and ethan have literally never met but imo it would still be the healthiest because ethan gets to start new

the three other ships r all unhealthy in some way, at least canonically without changing much about the characters (i do like winterfield but just because of how chris behaved in re8 it knocked them down)

i cant even rank them on personal preference because my opinion changes so often 😭 it changes based on discussions i have with my friends or recent art i see that inspires me... me and my friends recently had a discussion about mia and ethans relationship which made me very frustrated and sad with mia so i defiently wouldnt be drawing them anytime soon... meanwhile i hvae been talking to a friend who really likes winterfield often so the conversations we have give me art ideas and i end up drawing it more. if a friend of mine really enjoyed wintersberg or lethan and talked to me about it often id probably start drawing it more, the joys of being a multishipper

it changes a lot based on how im feeling and if im in the mood to draw something funny or something serious

sorry u asked a really simple question and i responded with a essay

and a little bit about myself is that i go by crumb, i am 18 and i go by all pronouns and prefer it/its

im vietnamese and live in texas

i made this tumblr acc solely so i could post my ethan art and im a re7/re8 girly so if ur here waiting for me to draw the re1-re6 characters im sorry u should probably expect nothing

i also make personal animations sometimes which u can find here

thanks for the ask and sorry for the rant!

[a-simple-imagine]

mean girls mob au

A/N - forever thinking about my mean girls mob au. where everyone is some sort of career criminal but regina george is the worst one around so here’s some 2am thoughts .

characters - regina, gretchen, karen, cady, janis, damian and reader

WARNINGS - mention of violence, murder, and general illegal activity. weapons mentioned including knives and guns. toxic relationships. mutual obsession. dark themes idk

Regina George. she/her. leader -

she was born into this life. maybe directly her parents. maybe a close relative but either way she has known nothing but riches her entire life. her family is loaded. massive houses. expensive cars. she doesn’t know the meaning of the word struggle because life has just been so easy for her. until it’s not. maybe her father gets arrested for something. or someone close enough for it to have an impact dies. but soon enough reality hits regina that it’s not all pretty dresses and fancy parties. there’s a darker side to it all. her father tried to keep her out of it all but regina is stubborn. and eventually her father realises he needs someone to take over one day. so she’s taught the ropes slowly but surely until mean girl regina george who bullies kids in school and gets everything she wants becomes one of the most lethal women in the country. she’s involved in almost every shady deal that does on around her. drugs. murder. fraud. she’s done it all. it’s the only way to live. she’s very good with a gun but much prefers knives. pretty ones with engraved blades and sleek handles. they’re much more personal. you have to be up close to do any real damage. she likes to see the fear in people. the way their body reacts in their last moments. its a rarity that she deals with things herself but when she does she likes the play with her prey. draw it all out. she loves it. she’s obsessed with the hold she has over other people. some people are desperate to be loved but she couldn’t care less about that. it’s all about control. she wants people to fear her. not a bad word is uttered against regina george. but she’s not alone. she has a crew. and if nothing else, regina george is insanely loyal and pays very very well.

Gretchen weiners. she/her. right hand. -

gretchen is regina’s right hand man. they probably grew up together. her father probably worked alongside regina’s which is how this relationship formed in the first place. they often played together at family barbecues or whatever. through school gretchen knew it was better to stick with regina than be bullied by regina. she knew how ruthless the george family could be. so she’d support regina however she wanted. so from bullying kids to intimidating strangers, gretchen weiners has and always will be right by regina’s side. she would do anything for that woman. all regina has to do is snap her fingers and gretchen would come running. but that doesn’t mean gretchen isn’t ruthless in her own way. she’s the one doing the dirty work. she’s the one making sure everything runs smoothly whether it’s making people disappear or making sure deals go through. gretchen has probably seen much more action than regina. probably killed more people too. she prefers a gun. it puts more distance between what she’s doing but she’ll do anything. although it is all in service of regina. you’ll often find her at the bar in the main club the george family owns. an office upstairs where regina does most of her work. she enjoys getting cheeky cocktails when it’s quiet.

karen shetty. she/her. driver -

now karen met the girls a little later. maybe in high school or maybe a little after. regina probably tried to intimidate her but it never really worked on her. not in the same way it did for others and that was something that caught regina’s eye. now karen is the nicest person around. she is someone who says hi to everyone when she comes in every day. is making cute little friendship bracelets for the bouncers at the club. but her main role is driving. not just a general driver, regina pays boring white men for that, no karen is only for important jobs. she’s absolutely insane behind the wheel. can outrun anyone on the road like it’s child’s play because for her it basically is. she loves playing games. and driving can often feel like a game of cat and mouse. she’s also really handy with a weapon. maybe guns. maybe pretty knives. has a bad habit of causing… accidents but nobody ever stays mad at her. she loves dancing at the club and chatting with gretchen at the bar.

cady heron. she/her. new kid. -

now cady is the new girl in town and therefore has a lot to prove. maybe she gets mixed up with the wrong kinds of people. but she doesn’t stay at the bottom long, no she aimed straight for the top. maybe she had some help along the way. maybe there was a moment where she tried to make deals with regina but they never really worked out. regina never played particularly nice with others. that’s okay though because cady somehow found her way. she leads her own team. but she rules through mutual respect rather than fear at least within her own ranks. she finds a little place to set up shop, her own bar. it’s probably really small but it’ll do for now. but if she wants to stay alive she’ll have to either make nice or beat the competition. and unlucky for her regina is the competition. but she figures the easiest way to destroy regina is to go after the most precious thing in regina’s world.

damien hubert. he/him. bartender -

less important to the world than the others but still plays a role. he’s a bartender. just doing regular bartender work. maybe he has multiple jobs in both regina’s and cady’s places or maybe he’s just in regina’s but either way that’s his primary job. he loves interacting with people can usually tell when people are there for business or pleasure. both clubs work as normal clubs too that regular civilians can attend. he loves a good gossip but more so when it comes from the right kinds of people. he is known for having his ear to the ground. knows everything about everyone and is willing to share any information… for the right price. his side gig is in intel. he sells valuable crime secrets for massive amounts of money. runs a weekly poker night for the scariest/richest people in town. it usually puts all kinds of criminals against each other.

janis imi’iki’. she/her/they/them. artist/art dealer. -

a loner. makes art. probably spends a lot of time in the studio working on original pieces. they’re really talented. maybe they sell under a fake name, maybe they don’t. but they get invited to all kinds of fancy parties for the rich and famous. you can find her works in mansions and town houses but only the mindless drivel that she doesn’t care about. anything important to them is reserved for the people she actually cares about or shared for free through donations or exhibitions. she’s also a renowned art trader. big in the trade of illegal or forged art work. they probably paint a lot of the forgeries. it’s easy work and money. plus scamming rich people is fun. they have a bad relationship with regina. probably started when they were younger. now they just avoid each other or more so janis avoids regina. regina loves to try and provoke them especially if she sees them in her club. they’re probably there to see damien who helps facilitate buyers for their business.

BONUS: reader -

the reader is whoever. maybe this whole world is new to them, maybe it’s not. maybe this runs in their blood but they’ve just never been very good. but the most important thing is that regina is obsessed with you. utterly enthralled. does that mean she’s nice to you?? well, yes and no. she can be really cruel. she probably calls you weak an pathetic. sees you as some whose way out of their depth. likes to make a show of you. humiliate you. she’s probably held a knife to your neck once or twice just to see the look in your eye. she’s in complete control. can do whatever she wants and there’s nothing you can say or do about it. not if you valued your life anyway. she loves to shower you with expensive gifts though. especially clothes and jewellery. likes to see you dressed exactly how she wants. just a little doll to dress up and parade around. but as cruel as she can be regina would also move heaven and earth to make sure you’re okay. everyone knows your off limits. so much as bad word about you from anyone else and she’ll have their tongue cut out. and you go absolutely crazy for it. the dynamic is intoxicating. you love just how far she’ll go. it gives you a level of power that nobody else has. you’re untouchable. everyone is forced to respect you or face regina’s wrath. it takes a while for you to get used to being a part of her world. it was fancy and expensive but also dark and gritty. she tries to keep you out of it. but it’s hard not to notice the little things. splatters of blood. disappearances. you’re not stupid. but you just let it happen because just like everyone else you want to please regina. you want her to like you. to be interested in you. you’re not sure you could go back to before you were the centre of her world. regina teaches you some things like how to defend yourself. maybe how to shoot a gun and it’s exciting. when she’s so close and focused. pressed up against you. guiding your shot. it’s sweet. but you know to some extent that this can’t last forever. something will happen one day. she’ll get killed or arrested or whatever. maybe she’ll have to do something she’ll regret because of you. because while you are her greatest possession you’re also her biggest weakness.

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Can you do Octavia/Loona/Veroskia x male reader who is a living human that met the denizen of hell when both were small kids somehow and figured out a way to keep in touch with said friendship evolving into romance as the two got older? Thoughts on how others might react to learning of this?

"Childhood Friends" ; Loona, Octavia Ars Goetia, Verosika Mayday

You met through one of her old owners. And "owners" is the correct statement here, because Loona was nothing more than a pet to them.

Of course, they didn't introduce her like that. But since her previous owners were a pair of succubi, they were able to go to earth. They brought her on their honeymoon, where Loona was able to meet you. Her owners introduced themselves to your family as her mothers in the hopes of not drawing suspicion of abuse (because it's pretty frowned upon to treat your "child" like an animal, after all).

Loona was really aggressive and hostile at first, not allowing you to get close to her, touch her, or even look at her for too long. But you were little, and were easy to distract from her blatant rejection of your friendship.

She slowly began coming around more, though, over the week that her owners remained on their vacation. She started confiding in you. And since she was just a kid, she had no concept of keeping secrets. So she basically spilled her guts, about being a Hellhound from Hell, considered her "mothers'" pet, the fact that she never had a real family, and everything.

And when you hugged her, she was... heartbreakingly confused?

"S-S/O... What's this? This... thing you're doing."

After that, you lost contact. But she never forgot you. Her first friend.

A few years later, she was adopted by Blitzø, who loved her like a father rather than a pet. She was finally valued as a person, and not someone's possession.

But she had one request.

"There's this... human that I knew. He was my first friend. You can come or not, but I have to go see him. At least once."

And so she does. Loona comes to see you, using her adept sniffer to find you in the madness that is Earth. She of course takes on her human disguise for the first time since her previous owners, and she was amazed you even recognized her.

"Loona?! Is that you? What... What are you doing here?"

"Long story short, a lot has happened and sorry I didn't visit sooner. I'll explain everything, I promise. God, S/O, I missed you so fucking much."

And so she did. She explained everything that happened, and later on, she introduced you to Blitzø. It was odd, she introduced you as though you were her boyfriend...

Blitzø could see the feelings brewing in Loona, but you seemed like a stand-up guy and you made and excellent first impression on him, so he didn't mind that much. Even though he was still a tad overprotective of her.

It didn't even take long for you to start dating. You saw her for Vortex, she... isn't the most subtle.

The only difference is she's more protective and aggressive over you. You're a human after all, you could get hurt!

She loves you so much, and she's so grateful that her boyfriend was her very first friend. :)

Same with Loona, you probably met Octavia during some kind of vacation that her family went on, where she was stuck on her father's side like glue.

She seemed really timid around you at first, this being her first experience in the human world and the first time she's stuck around humans who don't understand her.

But you were just so friendly, and so persistent. She couldn't resist getting close to you, and even looking up to you at some points.

And honestly? It was a welcome distraction from her parents when her mom clearly hated her dad. You wouldn't believe how beyond grateful both Stolas and Stella were for your involvement in Octavia's life to distract her.

And throughout the years, because of her parents' appreciation of you for distracting their daughter during their fights, they'd help her keep in contact with you.

You two essentially grow up together. Sleepovers, playdates, the works. And eventually, that turns into casual hangouts, discovering hobbies together, and eventually, even mutual crushing.

Now, obviously, she's an angsty emo teenager, and doesn't know how to sort out these feelings. So who does she go to? Honestly, probably the worst person for that: you.

"S/O? What does love feel like?"

Cue a very awkward explanation trying to explain to your crush what a crush feels like... thinking she's referring to another guy, no less! So the heartbreak was also present.

Fortunately for you, it was very momentary and fleeting.

"I see... And what if I had... a crush... on you?"

"Via? Are you saying what I think you're saying?"

She's as shy as they come, and very nervously nods, fearing the harsh rejection and the end of your friendship that seemed inevitable. She couldn't have been more shocked than when you said those words she wanted to hear...

"I feel the same, Via."

"Really? Then... would you... maybe... want to... try going steady?"

You snorted out a little laugh, tilting your head.

"'Going steady'? What are you, ninety?"

Of course, you were only teasing, and she momentarily pouted at you before you finally gave in, taking both of her hands in yours.

"I'd love to go out with you. Just convince your mom not to kill me when she finds out you're dating me."

She let out a hoot-like laugh and nodded.

"I promise I will."

You were her absolute everything, and she was so happy she finally got to be with you. :)

Okay, so headcanon that Verosika's childhood wasn't the nicest. Not necessarily awful, but she never really felt wanted by anyone.

That all changed when she met you, though! As little three-year-olds, and her parents living on earth for a few months out of the year, she became immediately attached to you, clinging to your affection like she thought it'd leave if she ever let go of you.

She's clingy to a fault, always wanting to hug you and hold your hand and play those "physical" games (tag, leap frog, etc.). Sometimes, though, she'd sucker you into playing dolls with her. But hey, at least she (usually) let you be Ken. And have a personality.

"Hey! S/O! Let's play! I wanna be Nicky, but you can be Ken! :D"

She was so adorable and sweet, how could you possibly resist?

She maintained close contact with you, and her parents really didn't mind that she sometimes went off on her own to spend time with you.

You were there when her career began taking off and when she began getting famous, even to the extent of tabloids discussing rumors that you were an item. You weren't, though, although you started crushing on her near the beginning of her idol career.

So the tabloids made you uncomfortable in a... strange way. You didn't want her knowing how much you loved her, especially considering she was already with some imp guy...

...and then he broke her heart.

You consoled her, held her, reminded her how perfect and amazing she was, and how she didn't need someone who never saw her value the way it should be.

In this moment, she realized how amazing you were to her. You were always there when she needed you, you were never mocking or cruel with her, you never made her feel unwelcome or unloved... You were an amazing guy.

But you didn't think of it the same way. You didn't want to confess under the precipice of her possibly thinking you were glad to see her get her heart broken just so you could virtue signal about how much you loved her.

It wasn't instant, but that night, she began to develop her own feelings for you.

A few months later, she was head over heels, the same way you were. She was mean and catty with a lot of people, but oh, not with you. She adored you.

You'd already be close with her posse, but they set you two up, convincing Verosika to tell you the way she feels.

"Heya. So, like... I kind of like you, and all, but if you don't feel the same, totally fine. I don't mind."

A lot more chill when she isn't actively plotting against someone, actually. And of course, you accepted her confession that you thought would never happen.

And so, in the end, the tabloids were proven right... eventually. :)

Until then... she's content to keep your relationship a secret for now. ;)

[itsabouttimex2]

I loved the reactions to the lady bone demon defendant! But what about LBD reacting to it? Platonic of course, but would she try to manipulate them? Perhaps get them to join her willingly or by force?

Descendant of the Lady Bone Demon: Part Three

(Part One) (Part Two) (Part Three)

Maybe they should've seen this coming. Maybe there were a few warning signs they didn't pick up on. Looking back on it now, it's pretty obvious, isn't it? All those little things should've added up a long time ago.

The way the room grew silent and tense when you walked in, no matter how how exuberant it had been prior. How you manage to sneak up on everyone without even trying, as though you had no presence. The wide berth that strangers give you, even though they can't explain why. That last one had been particularly strange for your friends. They hadn't understood why people would treat you so coldly, not back then.

They understand now.

Just because someone loves you doesn’t mean that they want the best for you.

The man that Megapolis calls their ‘Mayor’ has somehow become your most enduring caretaker thus far. Everyone that came before him had either given you up after a few scarce months of guardianship, disappeared without a trace, or succumbed to some kind of sickness.

Frequently, the blame had been put on you. If a child gets passed through foster home after foster home after foster home and never acclimates to any of them, there’s a conclusion that many will draw- the child isn’t trying hard enough.

Never mind how many of your guardians would leave you locked outside for hours on end, well into the freezing cold night.

Never mind how often they ‘forgot’ to properly feed and clothe you, pocketing the allotted care salary for themselves.

Never mind often you weren’t allowed to explore the temporary houses outside of your own room, kept away from areas meant for ‘real’ family.

Never mind often how you were fed box-mix macaroni-and-cheese while your foster family ate real meat and vegetables.

Never mind any of that, of course.

The problem was obviously you, your ‘families’ had decided. And so had their friends and extended families, and even the system that threw you from one miserable little home to the next, leaving you with no one and next to nothing. All that you owned you carried around in a disposable plastic sack, never bothering to unpack and try to settle in.

You’d be gone in another month or two anyways.

Until you had been introduced to the mayor of Megapolis, that had been all the life you had ever known.

With one hand firmly on your back, he leads you into his house, a discreet building hidden away in quiet part of the city. It stands proudly above you, an ancient building refitted time and time again to suit the ever-changing trends of time. The walls are painted in elegant grays and a variety of tastefully selected blues, providing a clean and refined atmosphere.

It wasn’t often that you could truly call a temporary home clean. And this was certainly the first time you could apply an adjective such as ‘elegant’ to a building.

So many houses run-down from lack of care, pet urine long-seeped into fraying carpets, worn cots covered in dust and packed six or eight to one crumbling room.

His arm shifts down your back and to your wrist, holding tight. With such unnervingly wide eyes and the rictus grin he sports, you should be scared.

You should be scared that he’ll hurt you. But you’ve lived a life that’s proven to you a single fact: getting hurt is inevitable.

No matter how much you come to trust someone or how long you live with them- there’s no love or kindness. Just an always-ticking clock, counting down until the moment they break and throw you out quicker then they would toss trash.

But there’s no bruising grip this time. No harsh shoves. No unkind words. No molded side room that smells of bleach and detergent.

“Welcome home, Y/N!” he calls out with a much too loud tone, grinning ear to ear. “I hope you like your new room!”

It’s… actually nice. Not ‘for your standards’ nice. It’s ‘hotel’ nice. ‘Lavish guest room’ nice.

The longer you spend basking in the pleasantly smooth greys and blues of your new room, the more welcoming they feel.

“Thanks,” you manage to say, hoping that you weren’t ‘too late with gratitude’ as you had been so many times before according to many, many caretakers.

“Why, of course!” The grey-clad man pats your back with far too much force, pushing you inside with a stretched grin. “Please, get comfortable! I hope you’ll enjoy your- hopefully- very long stay!”

The door slams behind you, but doesn’t lock. That’s good, you think. You could leave, if you wanted to. You weren’t just trapped in here until your case worker came and asked for you.

And you think that might be the case when he knocks on the door hours later, probably to hand you a metaphorical eviction notice and throw you out because he got ‘unnerved’ like everyone always does-

And you are instead invited downstairs for a hot drink.

How could you say no?

The fireplace is hot, stoked by old papers strewn between the logs inside. If you looked closer, you’d see the names of your previous caretakers and case workers, printed onto them in neat lettering, all in a short, succinct list. And you’d notice the big ‘missing persons report’ stamped in bright red.

But the tea is warm and sweet, and the ‘Mayor’ has his arm around your shoulders as he holds you a little too close-

And you’re naive and desperate enough to consider this safe.

The Lady Bone Demon watches from within. She’s an ever-present force creeping through your veins, ice-cold and unearthly. Her power courses your blood, pumping slow. She feels through your hands. She sees through your eyes. She hears through your ears.

There’s no escape from her.

Carefully, the Lady sows and reaps your suffering. From the confines of your flesh, she makes note of all that brings you to tears, all that brings you to your knees.

In pulses, she strengthens you. Where you walk, crystals grow, smothering flowers and grass in your unknowing wake.

In waves, she activates the powers lying dormant in your veins. Bones buried deep underground shift and stir, waiting eagerly to heed your call.

In surges, she unleashes her presence, staining your eyes the color of a deathly cold ocean. All but a select few retreat in droves, leaving you to wonder what you’ve done to deserve your loneliness.

It is nothing short of cultivation. Within you blooms a small seed of her power, and she stokes it from the inside. The bud of cold blue slowly blooms, rooting deep through your blood. In time, she weaves those roots further and further into the fertile soil of your flesh, ensuring that they may never be pulled free without the utter destruction of your life.

A flower; unremovable, of crystalline sinew and careful tending, a slow and creeping overtake of your life woven by hands unseen. A growing mote of power to be plucked and consumed, taken as part of a greater whole when the day finally comes that you bloom.

And what a wonderful sacrifice you shall make for her cause.

[physalian]

Humanizing Your Characters (And Why You Should)

To humanize a character is not to contort an irredeemable villain into the warped funhouse mirror reflection of a hero in the last 30 seconds to gain “narrative subversion” points. To humanize is not to give said villain a tragic backstory that validates every bad choice they make in attempt to provide nuance where it does not deserve to be.

To humanize a character, villain or otherwise, is to make them flawed. Scuff them up, give them narrative birthmarks and scars and imperfections. Whether it’s your hero, their love interest, the comic relief, the mentor, the villain, the rival, these little narrative details serve to make all your literary babies better.

Why should you humanize your characters?

To do this means to write in details beyond those that service the plot, or the themes, or the motifs, morals, foreshadowing, or story. These might be (and usually are) entirely unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So, if I wrote lengthy diatribes on pacing and why every detail must matter, and character descriptions and thematic importance, why am I now suggesting go free-for-all on the fluff?

Just like real people have quirks and tics and beliefs and pet peeves that serve our no greater purpose, so should fictional people. Your average reader doesn’t have the foggiest idea what literary devices are beyond metaphor, simile foreshadowing, and anecdote, but they can tell when the author is using motif and theme and all the syntactical marvels because it reads that much richer, even if they can’t pinpoint why.

And, for shipping fodder, these tiny little details are what help your audience fall in love with the character. It doesn’t even have to be in a book – Taylor Swift (whether you like her or not) never fills her music with sexual innuendo or going clubbing. She tells stories filled with human details like dancing in the refrigerator light. People can simultaneously relate to these very specific and vivid experiences, and say “not that exactly, but man this reminds me of…” and that’s (part of) the reason her music is so popular.

What kinds of narratives need these details?

All of them. Visual media, audio, written, stage play. Now, to what degree and excess you apply these details depends on your tone, intended audience, and writing style. If your style of writing is introspection heavy, noir character drama, you might go pretty heavy on the character design.

But even if you’re writing a kids book with a scant few paragraphs of setting descriptors and internal narration, or you’re drawing a comic book – if you have characters you want people to care about, do this.

Animators, particularly, are very adept at humanizing non-human characters, because, unlike live acting, every single stroke of the pen is there with intent. They use their own reflections for facial references, record their own movements to draw a dance, and insert little bits of themselves into signature character poses so you know that *that* animator did this one.

How to humanize your characters.

I’m going to break this down into a couple sections: Costume/wardrobe, personality, beliefs/behavior/superstitions, haptics/proxemics/kinesics, and voice. They will all overlap and the sheer variety and possibilities are way too broad for me to capture every facet.

Costumes and Wardrobe

In the film Fellowship of the Ring, there’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment where, after Boromir is slain by the Uruk-Hai, Aragorn takes Boromir’s Gondorian vambraces to wear in his honor, and in honor of their shared country. He wears them the rest of the trilogy. The editing pays no extra attention to them beyond a split second of Aragorn tightening the straps, it never lingers on them, never reminds you that they’re there, but they kept it in nonetheless. His actor also included a hunting bow that didn't exist in the book because he's a roamer, a ranger, and needs to be able to feed himself, along with a couple other survival tools.

Aragorn wears plenty of other symbolic bits of costume – the light of the Evenstar we see constantly from Arwen, the Lothlorien green cloaks shared by the entire Fellowship, his re-forged sword and eventual full Gondorian regalia, but all those are Epic Movie Moments that serve a thematic purpose.

Taking the vambraces is just a small, otherwise insignificant character moment, a choice made for no other reason than that’s what this character would do. That’s what makes him human, not an archetype.

When you’re writing these details and can’t rely on sneaking them into films, you have to work a little harder to remind your audience that they exist, but not too often. A detail shifts from “human” to “plot point” when it starts to serve a purpose to the themes and story.

Inconsequentiality might be how a character ties, or doesn’t tie their shoelaces, because they just can’t be bothered so they remain permanent knots and tripping hazards. It might be a throw-away line about how they refuse to wear shorts and strictly stick to long pants because they don’t like showing off their legs. It might be perpetually greasy hair from constantly running their fingers through it with stress, or self-soothing. A necklace they fidget with, or a ring, a belt they never bother to replace even though they should, a pair of lucky socks.

Resist the urge to make it more meaningful than “this is just how they are”. If I’m using the untied shoelaces example – in Spiderverse, this became a part of the story’s themes, motifs, and foreshadowing, and doesn’t count. Which isn’t bad! It’s just not what I’m talking about.

Personality

In How to Train Your Dragon, Toothless does not speak. All his personality comes from how he moves, the noises he makes, and the expressions on his face. There’s moments, like in the finale, when his prosthetic has burned off and Hiccup tells him to hold on for a little bit longer, and you can clearly see on his face that he’s deeply uncertain about his ability to do so. It’s almost off the screen, another blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment. Or the beat of hesitation before he lets Hiccup touch him in the Forbidden Friendship scene. Or the irritated noise he makes when he’s impatiently waiting for Hiccup to stop chatting with his dad because they have a giant dragon to murder. Or when he slaps Hiccup with his ear fin for flying them into a rock spire.

None of those details *needed* to exist to endear you to his character or to serve the scenes they’re in. The scenes would carry on just fine without them. He’s a fictional dragon, yes, but these details make him real.

Other personality tics you could include might be a character who gets frustrated with tedious things very quickly and starts making little inteligible curses under their breath. Or how they giggle when they’re excited and start bouncing on their toes. Maybe they have a tic where they snap their fingers when they’re concentrating, trying to will an idea into existence. Or they stick their tongue out while they work and get embarrassed when another character calls them on it. They roll around in their sleep, steal blankets, drool, leave dishes in the sink or are neurotic with how things must be organized. They have one CD in their car, and actually use that CD player instead of the phone jack or Bluetooth. They sing in the shower, while they cook, or while they do homework, no matter how grating their voice.

They like the smell of new shoes or Sharpies. They hate the texture of suede or velvet or sticky residues. They never pick their socks up. They hate the overhead light in their room and use 50 lamps instead. They hate turning into oncoming traffic or don’t trust their backup camera. They collect Funko Pops and insist there’s always room for more.

And about a million others.

Beliefs, Behaviors, and Superstitions

*If you happen to be writing a story where superstitions have merit, maybe skip this one.* Usually, inevitably, these evolve into character centerpieces and I can’t actually think of one off the top of my head that doesn’t become this beyond the ones we all know. A few comedic examples do come to mind:

The Magic Conch in “Club Spongebob” and the sea-bear-proof dirt circle in “The Camping Episode”

Dean Winchester’s fear and panic-driven actions in “Yellow Fever” and “Sam, Interrupted”

The references to the trolls that steal left-foot socks in How to Train Your Dragon

I’m not a fan of wasting time writing a religious character doing their religious thing when Plot Is Happening, but smaller things are what I’m talking about. Like them wearing a cross/rosary and touching it when they’re nervous. Having a specific off-beat prayer, saying, or expression because they don’t believe in cursing.

The classic ones like black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, salt, sidewalk cracks can all be funny. Athletes have plenty, too, and some of them, particularly in baseball culture, are a bit ridiculous. Not washing socks or uniforms, having a team idol they donate Double Bubble to and also rub their toes. A specific workout routine, diet, team morale dance.

Other things, too. A character who’s afraid to go back downstairs once the lights are off, or fear the basement or the backyard shed. Or they’re really put-off by this old family photo for no reason other than how glassy their eyes look and it’s creepy. They like crystals, dreamcatchers, star signs, tarot, or they absolutely do not under any circumstances.

They believe in all the tried and true ways of predicting the weather like a grizzled old sailor. They believe in ghosts, vampires, werewolves, witches, skinwalkers, doppelgangers, fairies. They talk to the cat statue in their kitchen and named it Fudge Pop. They whisper to the spirit that possessed the fridge so it stops making all that racket, and half the time, it works every time. They wear yellow for good luck or carry a rabbit’s foot. They’re not religious at all but still throw prayers out to whoever’s listening because, you know, just in case. They sit by their window sill and talk to the moon and the stars and pretend like they’re in a music video when they’re driving through the city in the rain.

Haptics, Proxemics, and Kinesics

These are, for all you non-communication and psych majors out there, touch and physical contact, how they move, and how they move around other people.

Behold, your shipping fodder.

Two shining examples of proxemics in action are the famous “close talker” episode of Seinfeld (of which every communication major has been subjected to) and Castiel’s not understanding of personal space (and human chronemic habits) in Supernatural.

These are how a character walks, if they’re flat-footed, clumsy, or tip-toers. If they make a racket or constantly spook the other characters. If they fidget or can’t sit still in a seat for five seconds, if they like to sit backwards or upside down. How they touch themselves, if they do a lot of self-soothing maneuvers (hugging themselves, rubbing their arms, touching their face, drawing their knees up, holding their neck, etc) or if they don’t do any self-soothing at all.

This is how they shake hands, if they dance while they cook or work. It’s how much space they let themselves take up, if they man-spread or keep their limbs in closer. How close they stand to others or how far. If they let themselves be touched at all, or if they always have their skin covered. If they always have their back to a wall,  or are always making sure they know where the nearest exit is. If they make grand gestures when they talk and give directions. If they flinch from pats on the back or raised hands. If they lean away from loud voices or project their own. If they use their height to their advantage when arguing, puff their chest, square their shoulders, put their hands on their hips, or point fingers in accusation.

If they touch other characters as they pass by. If they’re huggers or victims of falling asleep on or near their comrades. If they must sleep facing the door, or with something solid behind them. If they can sleep in the middle of a party wholly uncaring. If they sleepwalk, sleeptalk, migrate across the bed to cuddle whoever’s nearest with no idea they’re doing it.

If they like to be held or like to hold others. If they hate being picked up and slung around or are touch-starved for it. If they like their space and stick to it or are more than happy to share.

Do they walk with grace, head held high and back straight? Or are they hunched over, head hung, watching their feet? Are they meanderers or speed-walkers? Do they cross their arms in front or lace their hands behind them? Do they bow to authority or meet that gaze head on?

I have heard that Prince Zuko, in Last Airbender, is usually drawn sleeping with his bad ear down when he doesn’t feel safe, like on his warship or anywhere in the Fire Nation, or on the road. He’s drawn on his other side once he joins the Gaang. In Dead Man’s Chest, just before Davy Jones drives the Flying Dutchman under the waves, two tentacles curl up and around the brim of his hat to keep it from blowing off in the water.

When they fight, do they attack first, or defend first? Do they touch other characters’ hair? Share makeup, share clothes? Touch their faces with boops or bonks or nuzzles and eskimo kisses? Do they crack their knuckles and necks and knees?

Do they stare in baffled curiosity at all the other characters wholly comfortable in each other's spaces because they can’t, won’t, or don’t see the point in all this nonsense? Do they say they’re happy on the outside, but are betrayed by their body language?

Voice

Whether or not to write an accent is entirely up to you. Books like Their Eyes Were Watching God writes dialogue in a vernacular specific to its characters. Westerners and southerners tend to be written with the southern drawl or dialect, ripe with stereotypical contractions. Be advised, however, that in attempt to write an accent to give your character depth, you could be instead turning off your audience who doesn’t have energy to decipher what they’re saying, or you went and wrote a racist stereotype.

Voice isn’t just accent and dialect, nor is it how it sounds, which falls more solidly under useful character descriptions. Voice for the sake of humanizing your characters concerns how they talk, how they convey their thoughts, and how they become distinct from other characters in dialogue and narration.

If you’re writing a narrative that hops heads and don’t want to include a big banner to indicate who’s talking at any given time, this is where voice matters. It is, I think, the least appreciated of all the possible traits to pay attention to.

First person narrators have the most flexibility here because the audience is zero degrees removed from their first-hand experiences. Their personality comes through sharply in how they describe things and what they pay attention to.

But it’s also in what similes and metaphors they use. I read a book that had an average (allegedly straight) male narrator going off and describing colors with types of flowers, some I had to look up because I just don’t know those off the top of my head. My immediate thought was either this character is a poorly written gay, or he’s a florist. Neither (allegedly), the writer was just being too specific.

Do they have crutch words they use? like, um, actually, so…, uh

Or repeat exclamations specific to them? yikes, yowzers, jeepers, jinkies, zoinks, balls, beans, d’oh!

Or idioms they’re fond of? Like a bat out of hell. Snowball’s chance.

Do they stutter when they’re nervous? Do they lose their train of thought and bounce around, losing other characters in the process? Do they have a non-Christian god they pray to and say something other than “thank God”? Are they from another country, culture, time period, realm, or planet with their own gods, beliefs, and idioms?

When they describe settings, how flowery is the language? Would this grizzled war hero use flowery language? How would he or she describe the color pink, versus a PTA mom? Do they use only a generic “blue, green, red” or do they really pay attention with “aquamarine, teal, emerald, viridian, vermillion, rose, ruby”?

How do this character’s hobbies affect how well they can describe dance moves, painting styles, car models, music genres?

This mostly matters when you’re head-hopping and the voice of the narrator serves to be more distinct, otherwise, what’s the point of head-hopping? Just use third-person omniscient.

If you really want to go wild, give a specific narrator unique syntax. Maybe one character is the ghost of Oscar Wild with never-ending run-on sentences. Just be sure to not go too overboard and compromise the integrity of your story.

In the book A Lesson Before Dying, a somewhat illiterate, underprivileged and undereducated minor has been given a mentor, a teacher, before they face the death penalty. At the end of the book, you read all of the letters they wrote to their teacher. There’s misspellings everywhere, almost no punctuation, and long, rambling sentences.

It’s heartbreaking. The subject matter is heavy and horrible, yes, but it’s the choice to write with such poor English that has a much bigger impact than perfect MLA format.

How to implement these details

Most of these, in the written medium, need only show up once or twice before your audience notices and wonders why they’re there. Most fall squarely under character design, which falls under exposition, and should follow all the exposition guidelines.

These details exist to be random and fluffy, but they can’t exist randomly within the narrative. If you want to have your character be superstitious, pick a relevant time to include that superstition.

Others, like ongoing speech habits or movements, still don’t overuse, especially if they’re unique. A character might like to sit backwards in a chair, but if you mention that they’re doing it every single time they sit down, your audience will wonder what’s so important and if the character is unwell.

And, of course, you can let these traits become thematically important, like a superstition being central to their personality or backstory or motivation. These all serve the same purpose of making your character feel like a real person instead of just a “character”.

Just think about tossing in a few random details every now and then and see what happens. One tiny sentence can take a background character and make them candidates for the eventual fandom’s fan favorite. Details like these turn your work from “This a story, and these are the characters who tell it” into “these are my characters, and this is their story.”