#the first one is ugly but its the first one i ever drew so

[lamouratorrrrry]

i wanted to repost some heian kintokis to celebrate his NA debut 🥹🫶 kintoki, i love youuuuuuuu

[shinayashipper]

Like I've been told many kinds of swear words and all during my time working here but this is kind of the first time someone had said "your face looks unfriendly" like sorry to have been born with This Face, and maybe if you didn't demand so many things while refusing to pay for extra services I wouldn't be making This Face!!! Sorry for being "Too Serious" and "Too Formal" in chats that you deemed I'm "cocky" or whatever!!! Sorry for telling you that the products you wanted doesnt Exist!!

[assriels]

lose control | chapter i

pairing: azriel x day court!reader

word count: 4.4k

warnings: minimal porn WITH plot (i promise there’s a purpose lmao), friends with benefits & conflicted emotions, a lot of az and reader’s thoughts, slow burn, pining, angst if u squint

summary: azriel sneaks into your study and your all too familiar dance continues. though, this time feels different, and his century long effort to tamp his feelings down begins to unravel.

a/n: this first chapter is a lot longer than i intended lol but strap in bbs its just getting started (takes place from before to after war with hybern)

prologue

When Azriel saw the familiar roofs of the Day Court palace, one flickering faelight lamp illuminating the sheer white curtains leading into your study, he sighed. He didn’t know why he was here for the second night in a row. The mission Rhys sent him on was supposed to be a quick one, and it would have been had he not drawn it out for longer than he had to. 

It was his second night in the Day Court, and though he had finally sent word back to Rhys about the details of his task well done and that he’d be home as soon as possible, he still found himself here. Still gliding through the familiar air of your residence, wings instinctively – traitorously – bringing him to the balcony of your study rather than to his home court. 

He landed smoothly on the railing of your balcony. Your wards were open to him, just like the night before and every other night for the last century. 

Azriel sighed again as he peeked through your doors in the cover of shadow – trying, and failing, not to feel like a creep – watching as you hunched over your desk, endless sheafs of paperwork littering your desk in a way that always had him questioning how you managed to be so organized and efficient. An ornately carved mahogany and gold kiseru pipe balanced precariously on a porcelain stand, tendrils of white smoke curling in mimicry of the shadows at his feet. 

It was a bad habit you had, smoking. One he knew you had tried to kick on many occasions, only for it to come rearing its ugly head at times where you  and stress were one and the same. Whatever you had just been working on must have been especially irritating. Azriel had a feeling he knew what it was; his own work tipping him off to the rumblings of a Prythian-wide conflict, soon unavoidable. 

He stealthily made his way into your study, noticing immediately the way your shoulders were fraught with a tension that you tried to chase away with a roll of your neck. He was momentarily shocked at the sudden urge he felt tingling in his fingertips to massage away the ache, but he ignored it, tucked it in the back of his mind like he always did with the rest of the sudden urges he had to cross the unspoken line you both drew between lovers and friends. 

If you noticed his presence, you didn’t show it, opting instead to roll your shoulders back in a display of obvious discomfort, a sigh escaping your lips for the third time since Azriel had arrived.

“You misspelled ‘Prythian’,” he said, amusement peppering his words as he peered over your shoulder at some missive you unsuccessfully attempted to write. 

Again, if you were surprised at his sudden appearance, you didn’t let on.

“I thought spies were supposed to be sneaky,” you quipped back, turning your head to look at him with a look of annoyance that was so obviously exaggerated. “I wasn’t aware that being an expert in grammar and usage was in your job description.”

When he felt his lips curve upwards in a smile he couldn’t ever seem to fight in your presence, he ignored – yet again – the affection he felt bubbling beneath the cage of his ribs. 

“Long night?” he asked, plopping himself down into the seat on the other side of your desk. He didn’t miss the fact that you had at some point replaced the chair with one big enough to accommodate his wings. 

Your facade fell quickly and you slumped against your own chair, your exhaustion overcoming every muscle fiber in your body, fingers twitching to reach for the pipe on your desk, “You could say that. You?”

This was a conversation that he had had with you countless times, a preamble of niceties to the wonderfully sinful intensity that would ensue as the hours passed. But Azriel found himself enjoying the mundane, near domestic conversations with you more and more lately, almost as much as he enjoyed everything that would come after.

He hummed an affirmative to your question before a comfortable silence filled the space between you. After a few moments, you rose from your seat, spine cracking while you stretched away the tension coiled in your limbs. Azriel greedily allowed himself to drink you in, hazel eyes skating the plain white t-shirt you wore, now wrinkled by the way you had no doubt been hunched over your desk all day. He tracked the way the hem of your shirt lifted above the waistband of your knit pants as you stretched, granting him a peek at the smooth skin he had plans to run his hands all over later. 

“Will you help me put these away?” you inquired with a yawn, gesturing to the books scattered around your workspace. The tension bled from your shoulders as a breeze ruffled your hair, relaxing your taught muscles. Gone was the tense, all-business Warmaster of Day, replaced by the somewhat petulant, but easygoing Y/N. 

He stood from his seat and stacked a pile of books under his arm as he followed you to your bookshelves. Azriel knew where every title went, slotting them back into place with the ease of someone who had memorized every inch of your study. 

It was your turn to ogle at him, watching lecherously as the muscles in his arm rippled while he shelved a book back into its rightful place high on your bookcase. He had discarded the jacket of his leathers somewhere on the back of a chair, giving you a full view of the way his tight black undershirt left nothing to the imagination. His physique seemed to be sculpted by the gods themselves, wide shoulders tapering down to strong hips. His wings were relaxed, though he was always mindful of your things, careful to keep his wings in check so he could avoid knocking anything over in your decidedly not-Illyrian sized space. 

“Are you going to make me put them all back myself? Or are you done staring?” The leather strap securing one of his siphons to his bicep stretched as he shelved another book; you briefly wondered how that thing didn’t snap right off every time he flexed. Which he was clearly doing on purpose now as he teased you.

You scoffed, “I wasn’t staring.” A lie. “I was making sure you were putting everything back where it should be.” Another lie. You knew better than anyone that Azriel had personally spent extra time committing your bookshelves to memory, always sneakily stealing one to read while you worked. 

He mumbled something under his breath – “Whatever you say” – as he huffed a laugh and continued his task. You both worked in a comfortable silence that only existed between two people who knew each other the way you and Azriel knew each other. It was nice, you’d admit, just being able to exist in the same space. 

Once upon a time, this would have never happened between you; your interactions had once only consisted of explicit rendezvous that would have anyone blushing to remember. But as your…relationship with the shadowsinger progressed, more time was spent enjoying each others’ company and you fell into a neat, wonderfully blissful routine with him. You didn’t see him often by any means, encounters always spaced by a few weeks or more if one of you was busy, but you couldn’t deny that it was nice having him around, especially now that it seemed like his visits to you were becoming more frequent as of late. 

Though a pervasive contentment permeated the silence between you, the air was still fraught with delicious anticipation. No words were exchanged, but every stroke of his fingertips low on your waist, and every not-so-accidental brush of your hand against his spiked the tingling, electric tension in the room. It made your heart beat quicken, and every time you felt Azriel steal a not-so-subtle glance in your direction you swore your heart would stop entirely. Anticipation was a slow, cunning killer. 

“I’ve been meaning to read this,” he said, breaking the silence, beautifully scarred fingers tracing the spine before he slotted it out of place. Azriel flipped idly through the pages, eyes quickly scanning its contents. 

You leaned over, shoulder kissing his, to peer at the title he unshelved, “Oh? Take it then, it’s yours. I’ve read it too many times.”

Azriel’s brow creased as he considered your proposal, “But then what excuse would I have to come back?” It was hard to miss the teasing lilt in his voice, dripping with suggestion and promise. 

You rolled your eyes, by now too used to the innocent flirting that had bled into your friendship. 

“As if you ever needed an excuse,” you mumbled coyly. “Consider it a loan then. Once you finish reading it, then you’ll have to come back to return it.”

���Better read fast then, huh?” 

You could practically feel the wicked suggestion oozing from his voice, dripping like honey as he pressed his chest to your back to reshelf the last book right in front of you. You leaned back against him, savoring the feeling of his breath on your neck as his lips barely grazed the curve of your jaw.

He felt the vibration in your chest when you hummed, his hand dragging from the bookshelf to hold your waist, fingers playing a coy little game as they fiddled with the hem of your shirt. 

“You know that’s not where that goes,” you sighed, attempting to tamp down the urge to give in to him immediately. This dance – this game – was always the best part of your nights with him, pushing and prodding in just the right places until one of you finally caved. 

“No?” He asked, fingers splaying wide on your lower belly, pulling you back flush against him. “Where does it go then?”

The deep timber of his voice sent a shiver up your spine, but you were determined to make him wait a little bit longer, even if the feeling of how hard he already was in his pants was growing increasingly more difficult to ignore. As one of your hands laid atop his to intertwine your fingers, your other one stretched up to point at an empty space on a shelf two heads above you, “Right there.”

You had meant to sound more definitive and not nearly as breathless, but Azriel wasn’t even really paying attention, too busy nipping at that spot just below your ear that he knew drove you insane. Right there, indeed. 

A small noise of appreciation fell from your lips before you could stop it. Azriel’s free hand skated up your side, tracing the curves and divots of your waist, following the line of your outstretched arm before his fingers encircled your wrist, pinning it to the bookshelf, right underneath the empty slot where his misplaced book was supposed to be. 

All your resolve crumbled in that moment, your senses overwhelmed by his scent, his body, by the way he disentangled your fingers so he could track his touch further beneath your shirt. You keened when he toyed with your nipple over the fabric of your bra, pushing your hips harder against his until he groaned. He spun you around to face him then, arm still pinned above your head. 

The look in his eyes – pupils blown wide and dark – was pure, unadulterated desire that had your legs squeezing together. He looked ready to devour you, what with the way his plush lips parted in awe, heavy lidded eyes mapping the contours of your face. It always amazed you how quickly you could rile him up like this. 

But gods, he loved it and he didn’t care that you were looking at him so smugly. He got drunk off the way you moved, the way you smelled, the way you let your idle hand smooth up his chest so you could cup his jaw. How could he not revel in your attention when it set his entire body aflame? 

Your lips were a hair’s breadth from touching, breaths mingling as both of you waited for the other to make the first move. 

But when you tilted your chin up chasing his mouth with yours without letting them touch, he was a goner, muffling the sound of his name on your lips with his own. You tasted like coffee and honey, and something so undeniably you that made Azriel groan; so familiar and so, so good. He could spend the entire evening like this, letting your hands roam where they pleased while he kissed you endlessly. 

Yet, when you tugged at the fabric of his shirt, he let his greedy mind wander to the fantasies he had conjured on the nights he wasn’t with you, fucking into his hand as he thought of all the ways he’d want to take you next. Though he liked the idea of taking you against your bookshelf with both of your hands pinned above your head, he craved your touch far too much. Maybe next time, he told himself as he released his grip on your wrist. But this time…

His arms hooked smoothly beneath your legs and he lifted you effortlessly off the floor. Instinctively, your legs locked around his waist as he kissed you, all teeth and expert tongue smoothing over the places he knew made you dizzy.

“Azriel.” His name whispered against his own lips was a plea that made him want to drop to his knees. Your voice made his blood rush, made his brain foggy with heady desire, made his fingers tremble. 

Azriel knew that everytime you two did this – played this risky game – you toed the line between lovers and friends, pushed the boundary just a little further to satiate your need for each other. A maelstrom of emotions wreaked havoc on his composure; every kiss, every touch had his heart beating with feelings that transcended the lust that often clouded his vision when he was with you. 

It terrified him. It exhilarated him.

Azriel was well aware that the feelings that had begun to blossom in his chest were not ones that followed the guidelines of your arrangement, even if he couldn’t quite pinpoint what those feelings were just yet. But he knew this was supposed to be casual, no strings attached, and nothing about the feelings that were roiling around in his heart was casual. 

He couldn’t help the way he always felt like he was searching for you, thinking of you, wanting you. You were the north of his compass, the sun to his earth, and he could do nothing to loosen the vice you had on him. He could say that it was because the sex was incredible – it was – but he knew that wasn’t the only reason he sought you – and only you – out time and time again, after all these years. 

It hurt his head to think too deeply about what these burgeoning feelings were, especially with the way your teeth were taking his earlobe between them as your arms wound tantalizingly around his neck, whispering obscenities in his ear about how good you wanted to make him feel. He shuddered with wanton hunger, hands grasping desperately at your waist. 

He felt his chest tighten with an emotion he thought he had locked up long ago as your fingers played with his hair, a sweet, gentle gesture that was in stark contrast to the way he urged your hips to grind against his. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, whispered against your lips as he kissed you. 

Despite his sentiment, Azriel continued to kiss you like his life depended on it, like you would be the last breath he took before plunging deep into open waters. You gratefully matched his fervor before pushing on his chest. He pulled away from you, chest heaving against yours with long shuddering breaths of restraint. 

Confusion tumbled around in your mind as you searched his face for any sign of reluctance. When you didn’t find any, you were tempted to pull him back into you, but comfort was paramount and you didn’t push him – never pushed him. Not once in the hundred years you two have been navigating this treacherous dance of being friends(?) with the benefit of pleasure did either of you take more than what was given.

You were panting, “We can stop, if you don’t—“

He cut you off with another press of his lips to yours as if he couldn’t resist any longer, his hand tender against your jaw, “That’s not what I meant.” His voice was soft and steeped in too much affection; it made your heart stutter traitorously in your chest. 

You didn’t have time to ask him what he meant, though; he was already blazing a trail of open mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, inquisitive hands palming at every inch of you he could.

Even if you had the wherewithal to ask, he wouldn’t have answered. Azriel wasn’t sure even he understood what he had said, only that there was a feeling in his gut that he was on the precipice of change, that there was something in the air that told him he wouldn’t be able to go back to the way things were. Despite having made this decision over and over and over again in the last hundred years he’s been alive, something about this time felt different. Again, it terrified and exhilarated him. 

But he didn’t want to think about it anymore, not when all he wanted to think about was you, pliant under his touch and crooning for more. All reason be damned.

Your fingers wound themselves in his hair, pulling not-so-gently this time, “Azriel.”

Gods, the way you said his name would send him to an early grave, and he’d die happy if it was the last thing he heard. He pulled your shirt off and unclasped your bra in record time, mouthing at your breast as his expert tongue tweaked your nipple while his hand traveled down your body and beneath the waistband of your pants.

He grinned against your skin when he felt how wet you were beneath your tiny little underthings, so slick and ready. Ready for him. Him. 

The thought pulled a growl out of him from deep within his chest. Possession roiled in his gut like a monster uncaged. He would’ve taken you right there, against the stack of books lining your shelves, but he knew from experience that it wouldn’t end well. He’d make a mess — of you and your bookshelves — and you’d whine in protest afterwards and lament that you’d have to reorganize everything all over again.

So instead, he steadied you against him and flew from your study’s balcony to your room’s; it was faster than navigating the too long hallways of the palace to get to your bed. Your shriek of his name, a mixture of delight and shock, tickled his ears with the wind that whipped briefly across his face.

When he tossed you somewhat unceremoniously onto your bed, a smirk curled his lips at the miffed expression creasing your brows.

“We have corridors you know,” you fussed, still reaching for him as he climbed over you. He chuckled a bit at your petulant grumbling before his lips attached to the column of your neck. His voice was a low rumble as he nipped at your skin, placating you, “That way was faster.” 

The urgency in his actions made you giddy, though you would never admit it. Azriel always wanted for you in ways that reminded you of your young adulthood. Like two desperate young lovers stealing away into the hidden depths of the night to explore each other under the cover of a secret tryst. 

Even after nearly a hundred years, the thrill of him never subsided. 

The rest of the night was a blur as you lost count of how many times you were gasping his name between orgasms. He took you slow despite the way he had moved with such desperation before. He moved with you like he had nowhere else to be – like there was nowhere else he wanted to be – letting his hands and mouth wander and worship your body as he coaxed wanton moan after moan from your lips. He gave you everything you needed, but still you asked for more, always wanting more, more, more of him as your fingers danced gently around the base of his wings to elicit the sounds of his pleasure that made you tremble. 

And Mother be damned if he didn’t feel the same way. 

Azriel could never get used to the feel of you around him, beneath him. It was like he forgot who he was, pleasure driving him to the brink of insanity as you came around his fingers, his tongue, his cock. He thrived off the way your bodies moved in perfect, beautiful synchrony. And every time you pulled him in for more, he lost himself in you once again. You were heaven on earth, coaxing praise after praise from his lips in the throes of a passion he was addicted to. 

In those moments, nothing else mattered. Not the burgeoning anxiety sprung from an amalgam of unidentifiable feelings. Not the worry that someday this arrangement between you could end. None of it mattered. Nothing but you and him in the space you arduously carved out for yourselves. 

In the afterglow, your body molded to him with practiced ease and Azriel pointedly ignored – yet again – the way his heart fluttered beneath his ribs when he felt the perfection of you slotting yourself against his side, head resting comfortably on his chest. One of his hands found its way in your hair, gently massaging your scalp as the other stroked up and down the thigh that you had thrown haphazardly across his hips. 

You were breathing hard, eyelids heavy with exhaustion. It was in these fleeting, post-coital moments where you both were entangled in that strange limbo between strangers and lovers. A purgatory that existed for only you and him.

The ever-watchful spy, he took a moment to observe you teetering on the edge of sleep. It was a sight he had long since committed to memory but never tired of: delicate eyelashes fluttering with the struggle to stay awake, cheeks rosy from exertion, lips plush and parted. He knew this relationship between you was such a mess, but Azriel found himself caring less and less about the logistics of it all, especially in moments like these where he had the privilege of bearing witness to your most vulnerable moments.  

If this was casual, then so be it. 

His hand slid up your leg once more to cup your ass before squeezing hard enough to make you open your eyes. You leveled a glare at him, but it was less threatening than you had hoped it would be, fatigue settling in your bones.

“Do you need anything?” Azriel asked softly into your hair, hand returning to its previous soothing ministrations. 

You hummed, eyes slipping shut as you settled in closer to him, feeling his heart steady and strong beneath your ear. You shook your head, “I’m okay.”

You patted his chest in thanks before allowing yourself to yield to your growing tiredness, breath evening out. Azriel watched for another moment as you fell sleep, cheeks dusted with heat and hair sticking to the skin of his neck.

He didn’t kiss your head or whisper sweet good nights into your ears like a real lover would, but he did settle further into your mattress, head turning to bury his nose into the crown of your hair, allowing himself the sweet reprieve of falling asleep wrapped in your warmth. 

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

It was early, early morning when you woke, Azriel’s arm heavy on your waist as he slumbered on his stomach. His wings were relaxed and fanned out across the bed, blanketing you beneath. His lips were slightly parted and you swore you could hear little snores escaping his throat that he would vehemently deny. You smiled, endeared at the sight. 

The wild, terrifying, and ruthless Shadowsinger of the Night Court snored like a baby. 

In the moments before day fully broke over the horizon, you allowed yourself to take him in, memorizing the contours of his face, a habit you had formed in the last century of becoming acquainted with the spymaster. You were always amazed at how much more peaceful he looked without the semi-permanent crease between his brows. 

Azriel truly was beautiful, a thought you kept close to your heart, but one you knew everyone possessed. When he wasn’t being so insufferably stubborn and cryptic, he looked so content. Creeping sunrays warmed his back as he lay ignorant of your wandering gaze. A foreign ache settled in your chest as you watched him. His words from last night came crashing into you: “We shouldn’t be doing this.”

The night before, he had reassured you time and time again that he wanted you, so you didn’t quite understand what he had meant. You hated to think that he was becoming bored, that this was the last time you’d have him like this. The possibility that you wouldn’t get his late nights and early mornings anymore hurt, and you weren’t quite sure what to do with that knowledge. 

You had never really thought about your feelings for Azriel; you had always written off your encounters as part of your flimsy agreement to be casual, despite the increasing affection that had wormed its way into your heart. A seed of uncertainty began to sprout within you. Was this casual? The late night conversations and flippant flirtation confused you, as did the pang of discomfort you felt when you imagined a life without Azriel in it. 

You sighed to yourself. It was entirely too early to be decoding something he had said in the heat of the moment. Even when his mind wasn’t clouded with lust and desire, he was difficult to understand, so you ignored the heavy feeling in your chest and instead refocused your attention on the sleeping Illyrian in your bed. 

His wing was heavy around you, but it wasn’t an unwelcome presence. Briefly (and somewhat enviously) you admired the strength he no doubt had to have possessed to wield such large extremities so gracefully. But before you could get too carried away in your imaginings of his strength (and other things he could do with it) you tweaked his nose in an effort to wake him. He scrunched it in protest, but allowed his eyes to flutter open, gaze and consciousness adjusting to piece together his surroundings. 

When he realized he was in your bed, he relaxed again before pulling you in by the waist, “Morning.”

His voice was thick with sleep as his eyes fought to stay open. There was an undercurrent of domesticity that both of you pointedly decided to ignore as you scooted in closer to him, “Morning. Did you sleep well?”

He hummed an affirmative, letting his eyes slip closed once more. He was silent for so long that you thought he might’ve fallen asleep again, but then he sighed in contentment, “What time is it? Have you been awake for long?”

“It’s early,” you responded, allowing yourself to brush some of his hair away from his forehead, smiling at the way he melted at your touch. “I woke up only a few minutes ago.”

You both stayed like that for a while, nose to nose as you listened to him breathe and fight the exhaustion that you knew plagued his waking hours. Azriel shifted before he sat up, stretching his wings and groaning as his back cracked pleasurably.

“Do you have to go?” You inquired, not willing to ask him outright to stay, but also hoping that he would anyway. 

Azriel glanced at the clock on your wall and hummed in contemplation. In all honesty, Rhys was most likely expecting him to come back last night, and he really probably should go. But, he told himself, if that was the case he was already late and staying another few hours wouldn’t make a difference. 

“Not for a bit.”

He reveled in the wicked smirk that curved your lips as you shifted to straddle him, “My favorite answer.”

chapter ii (wip!)

taglist: @hauntedstudentobservationus @div94 @sidthedollface2

[sweetiecutie]

🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

[avidboafan]

RED THOUGHTS : “GET HIGH IN THE MOONLIGHT”

idol : stoner!han jisung x reader

content : smut | weed usage | oral | fingering | penetration | unsafe sex

summary : your best friend, jisung, offers to take you for a good time. after a while, you can’t resist saying no, but he wants something back in return.

notes : just getting this out here. requests are open! sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language (;^_^A) all comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

minors do not interact! 18+ content! nsfw!

a thick grey cloud hung over your head as you watched your best friend, jisung, took a drag of his neatly rolled blunt between his rosy, glossy lips. you watched him worriedly, all those lectures in high school and middle school about how bad drug addictions were playing back in your mind. the head of the blunt burnt orange as he slowly inhaled the foul smelling fumes, exhaling it through his nose and tapping off the blackened ashes of the drug and paper.

“jisung, i think that’s enough, your eyes are turning red,” you lectured with a stern voice, pushing away the hand that held the blunt between his ringed fingers. “it’s supposed to be like that, hot stuff.” jisung chuckled, amused, excess smoke huffing out of his mouth. “you would know if you tried, but you keep turning me down.” he playfully pouted. “cause it’s bad for your health,” you argued back, rolling your eyes.

“suit yourself,” jisung said in a sing-song voice, giving a frisky smirk.

to be honest, you’ve always wanted to try smoking a blunt out, at least once. just to see how it feels like. jisung describes it as entering another dimension, or whatever bullshit he pulls out from his ass. he usually smokes it to get inspiration for his lyrics. and you’ve definitely been needing inspiration lately, ever since your fashion major finals have been leering its ugly head around the corner.

you linger around jisung for a few more moments, thinking through the pros and cons over and over again. maybe once wouldn’t be that bad? it was only one time. just for inspiration for your finals’ designs. that’s it. “maybe i’ll try it. just once.” you hesitate, crossing your arms as jisung’s eyes lit up.

“really? are you for real?” jisung exclaimed doubtfully. you looked at his bloodshot eyes for a moment, twinkling with hope in the dim lighting and reluctantly nodded your head. “i’ll make you a new blunt right now!” jisung smiled, stumbling out of the couch and sitting on the floor in front of the coffee table, rolling up the blunt of his weed board and licking the ends, sealing it. he eagerly handed it to you as he drew in more smoke from his own blunt.

“why do you look so eager?” you cock a brow, fingers hesitating as you took it from his fingers. “it’s my first time seeing you get high,” he chuckled and you just couldn’t help the backflips that your stomach did as you heard his voice and his laugh.

“place it in your mouth, i’ll light it for you,” jisung smiled, watching as you placed the blunt in between your plump lips. jisung sat up on the couch again, the cushions dipping as he placed his weight on it, and leaned nearer to you, making the tips of both of the blunts touching each other as he inhaled, burning the weed inside and yours as well.

the tension was thick as you silent dragged on it, feeling the warmth inside of your mouth. after a couple drags, your mind slowly starts getting fuzzy and your eyes bleary. “so?” jisung asked. you stayed quiet, a little out of your headspace.

do you enjoy it?” you nod your head briefly. “glad to know. cause that blunt costed me a pretty penny,” jisung replied, pointing at the blunt as it slowly burned away into a bud. “and you could always thank your best friend for hooking you up with it,” jisung smirked cheekily, indicating some sort of hidden motive.

“what do you want, jisung?” you huffed, noticing the knowing look in his eyes.

jisung paused for a moment, his rationality and fear of rejection slowly coming back before he pushed it away, “i want you.”

—————————

your cheeks heated up immediately as he pushed you down on his unmade bed, lowering his body down, his head straying near your crotch as he unzipped your jeans, pulling down your panties and jeans in one go. your head was so hazy, you didn’t give much of a fight when he spread your legs apart.

“god, your pussy is so fucking cute,” he whined, his eyes staring at your pussy as he prodded at it, spreading it apart. shit. he couldn’t wait to taste your cute fucking cunt.

he delve in, eating you out like a starved madman, licking, kissing, sucking on your clit and hole like you’re the last thing he’ll ever eating. your hand immediately went to hold his permed hair in a futile attempt to stop his from drowning your cunt in his saliva.

his tongue was sticking inside your pussy, almost as if he was trying to make out with your cervix. you could feel the warm and wet muscle contracting and moving around inside your walls, trying to literally taste every inch of you. he then moved on to stimulate your clit, suckling on it as he stuck a finger into your craving, needy hole.

the noises filling the room was almost sickening to listen to as you moaned lewdly. all that was filling your sense was the smell of weed in the air, the sounds of you losing your mind and your squelching cunt, along with jisung’s heavy panting and moans vibrating your already sensitive pussy, and the feeling of pure torture was you felt your clit being abused and treated like a pacifier as your hole drips with jisung’s spit and your arousal as his finger curved into your g-spot, the coldness of his ring adding much more stimulation.

you wanted to cum so badly. but you just couldn’t. the knot in your stomach was tight, but not tight enough to snap and release what you needed. jisung was adamant on helping you reach that high, but it just wasn’t enough. what was missing?

“your dick,” you mumbled out in pleas, pulling on his hair tightly. “please, please, please cum in me, sungie,” you pleaded, feeling your head growing even more fuzzy and lightheaded.

his bloodshot eyes looked at you as he lifted his head, “so greedy,” he comments, as he lifts himself up and pulls you closer to his bulge by your legs. he pulls down his sweats and frees his cock the tight tent in his boxers, quickly shoving it inside your sloppy little cunt before you manage to compose yourself and lose your high.

it fits snugly in your little hole, the arousal coating your walls inviting him in welcomingly. his thumbs circles your clit as he feels himself losing his control as well, quickening his pace as he feels himself growing more and more tired, just wanting an orgasm to hurry and release itself from the both of you. he never felt this needy before. but seeing the way you were so relaxed and calm, uncharacteristic from your usual uptight and moral personality seemed to snap something in him. he wants you to be this relaxed whenever you’re with him. he doesn’t want to be someone that annoys you, he wants to please you. make you happy.

that one final push makes you squirt all around him, your clit throbbing against his thumb as you uncontrollably squirm and squeeze tightly against his cock, turning him even more on. after soaking his dick and torso with your arousal, he pulls his dick from your cunt and pumps it with his fist, whimpering and whining as he cums all over your cunt, watching the spit, arousal and his cum mixing together in a nasty mixture, dripping over your lips.

“we need to get high together more sometimes,” jisung remarks, as he tiredly plops himself right next to you on his bed, panting and gaining his breath. “you were amazing, jisung.” you complimented. “don’t think i’ve ever felt like this with any other guy.” jisung gave your cheek a quick peck, seeing his chance to finally confess.

“maybe.. i’m the right guy?” he points at himself in a teasing manner, but the look in his eyes didn’t feel like he was joking around.

[ooftale]

Ok so hi guys i have another Turbo from Wreck it Ralph post to share 😁 this time with the Turbo Twins featured as well

Basically I. Wanted to practice pixel art after not doing it for a long while cuz. I really like it but being rusty sucks ass! Anyway i thought to myself, what better way to practice than to draw these guys? So here i am 😋

I. Apologize for the Turbo with Lineart and the Turbo Twin in the doodle where he's winning THEYRE SOOO UGLY but like. The lineart one was the first of the page and the twin one was the FIRST time i ever drew a turbo twin in the first place so am I excused

My personal fav is the one where i made Turbo his very own 1st place Turbo Trophy because its so funny to me idk why

ALSO under the cut is another additional doodle

Additional very fast Turbo sketch with shadow covering his eyes because i really really liked the idea when i saw it in @//thecynner 's drawings and i got inspired 🙏🙏

[skiitter]

Ellana looked for Solas everywhere, in every shadow and alleyway of Thedas, at every ephemeral border of her dreams. She hunted him through time, through the annals of her own ancestral history, down through the last long decade of her too short life. She searched for even the echo of his presence in places too old and too broken to be named. And in every corner, through every door, across every dusty room, she found nothing. He was a ghost of a memory, something she stole and kept pressed to the edge of her ribs, just painful enough to remind her it happened.

As the years and the emptiness of her life shuffled on, Ellana's loneliness blossomed outward, consuming the gentler parts of her, until all that was left was bitter and ugly, the refuse of all her wasted hope. And so, for the sake of what life she had life, she set aside that aching desire, and refocused her grim determination on solving problems that he created. If Solas would not have her now, just as he did not keep her then, then so be it. He broke her heart, but she would not let him break the world.

She never expected to see him again, not in this life anyway, and most certainly not in the face of a stranger, in a tavern far, far away.

"This," Morrigan said, "is Rook."

Afterwards, her hand shook for want of something to cling too. The wolf statue she'd given to Thedas's newest champion was all she'd brought on her journey, and so it was to her own miserable shock she was forced to clutch.

"So, what did you think of her?" Morrigan asked upon their return to the south.

'I hate her' was the very first thought in her head, but Ellana pushed it aside for something appropriate, something fair. "She's so young."

Morrigan nodded. "Tis true, she is. But so was the Warden Amell, so was Varric's beloved Hawke," she paused. "So were you."

Ellana felt every second of her 36 years hit her all at once and she failed to keep the grimace from her face. "She's not Dalish, despite her name. I was expecting her to be more..." She could hear the word 'elfy' in Sera's voice as clear as day. "It must drive him mad."

"Oh, I'm sure many things about her do. She's quite obstinate, I'm told." Dorian stepped through the Eluvian after them, brushing imaginary fade-dust from his tailored robes. "Harding says she reminds her of you, all spitfire and stubborness."

It wounded like nothing had in a decade. It was a feeling so far removed from her repertoire of emotions, she didn't dare name it until safely alone in a room, far from prying eyes and clever sight.

Jealousy.

It's so base, so sincere in its immaturity, Ellana smiled despite the revelation. Jealousy, now, at the end of the world. How small it felt before the onslaught of things sure to come, how useless. But it was felt all the same. What a ruin the last decade had made of her pride, the irony of which she was unable to ignore. It would be better, she knew, if she did not love him. It would be easier, she knew, if she hated him. And yet.

And yet.

"El, darling, I've brought you some very expensive and fancy wine that you will pretend to enjoy and I--" Dorian trailed off at the sight of her hunched over in bed, sobbing quietly into her hands. "Oh, Ellana." He did not ask, no one ever did anymore. Instead, he sat down and drew her to him.

"It's not fair," she said into the crook of his neck. "It's not bloody fair."

"Love never is."

"It should be me, sifting through his fractured thoughts, demanding answers and receiving none. A decade of my life, Dorian. A decade. And it's just some--some girl instead." Ellana scoffed in disgust at her own fallible heart. "Her people, they live in his--his home--they--they are sat among his things. They--" She scrubbed at her face, pulling away. "I am so sick of missing him, of wanting answers to a question I asked years ago."

"I know."

"Does this make me foolish? All these years, and I'm still so heartbroken. I'm responsible for the safety of a thousand people and one man, one stupid and prideful man, has weakened me so utterly I cannot help but hate what I've become." Ellana looked at him. "I hate that I hate her. I hate that she was able to succeed where I failed."

"She's only where she's at because of Varric--"

"I spent years thinking of ways to make him stop, for just moment, to just listen to me. And now, she's got him trapped. Trapped and unable to run and I cannot even demand an audience after all this--this searching. He's just as unreachable to me now as he's ever been."

Dorian was at a loss for words, as nearly everyone was when presented with the ugly wound of her heartache. She did not begrudge him such things, nor did she push away his attempts to comfort. Instead, she cried for a while more, just for the posterity of feeling.

"Sorry," she scrubbed at her face after some time. "It's been a long day."

"It's been a long decade," he said gently. "Would you like some company or is this a 'wallow in your own loneliness' sort of evening?"

In response, she grabbed the bottle from him and took a heavy swig. It was impressively dry, like all Tevinter wine. With a grimace, she handed it back. "Company, definitely."

Several cups and not enough food later, the two of them sat before the small fireplace, having lapsed into companionable silence. He had just finished telling her of his recent run in with Vivienne and at the mention of their old friend, her thoughts were inevitably cast back in time to the Dread Wolf.

"I can see him in her," she said softly. "I see Solas in her expression, in the way she carries herself. It's...it's agonizing."

Dorian reached out and took her hand.

"She's so young and the weight of the entire world is on her shoulders. I know that feeling, I know how hard it is going to get," Ellana sighed. "I cannot begrudge her for things wholly out of her control."

"It is okay to hate her, even if it is only a little bit," he replied. "I won't tell."

"I know." She gave him a sad smile. "Maybe at the end of this, on the other side of all this carnage, I can ask her to tell him that I..." There was no word to properly encapsulate the sumtotal of everything she felt for Solas. "That I miss him, even now. And that if he ever wanted to talk, I will always be here to listen."

"He doesn't deserve your heart, Ellana, he never has."

"I know, but it's his anyway."

[hisui-dreamer]

CONGRATS ON 1K RINNAAAA :((( YOU WERE ONE OF MY FIRST MOOTS EVER AND ITS MAKES ME SO HAPPY AND PROUD THAT YOU HIT THIS MILESTONE!! THANK YOU FOR BEING ONE OF THE MOST WARM AND WELCOMING PEOPLE IVE MET IN THIS FANDOM <33 YOURE SUCH A GIFT ITS INSANE!!!!!

IM SURE THIS DOESNT SURPRISE YOU BUT!!! for the 1k event i was thinking soulmate au with azul (HEHE) except its the doodle one? LIKE WHERE YOU DOODLE ON YOUR BODY AND YOUR SOULMATES GETS THE SAME MARKINGS YK

and i have a habit of doodling sea creatures like octopi and morays on my arms and hands so i think it'd be cute for him to like, take his gloves off one day and just see a little eel on the back of his hand :((( squishy guy <3333

headcanons or a drabble is totally fine, whichever one is easier for you!!!! thank you for easing me into this fandom :(( i will never be able to thank you enough for making my anxious ass WAY less nervous <3 and no pressure if this doesnt inspire you ofc hehe you're never obligated to write anything !!! :D

the doodles that drew us together

Pairing: Azul Ashengrotto x gn!reader

Synopsis: Azul thought all his life he didn't have a soulmate...

Tags: soulmates au (doodling), reader is yuu, fluff, comfort, reader likes sea creatures, bot proofread

Word count: 591

Notes: aubbie thank you so much!!! I'm so glad we became moots, you're one of my closest friends and everything I see something azul related I think of you haha! I hope you'll enjoy this azul soulmate au ♪⁠ヽ⁠(⁠･⁠ˇ⁠∀⁠ˇ⁠･⁠ゞ⁠)

Masterlist

Azul had been fascinated by the idea of soulmates as a young mer

it was something that gave him hope, that despite all the other mean mers who would make fun of him, there was someone out there who would understand him and love him

and so he kept drawing on his arm, doodles of shells and other fish that caught his eye

but there wasn't any response.

maybe his doodles were too ugly and his soulmate didn't like them?

and so he learned to draw better, drawing again and again, hoping he would get a response

but still not a single mark would appear on him

it had been a tough blow to him, but he eventually accepted that he didn't have a soulmate

if he was going to be alone for all his life, then he had to take care of himself (because nobody would)

he became super greedy and selfish, always prioritising himself and his materialistic needs

although he also had a friendship with the tweels, he really only befriended them because they could help him out (but he did get attached to them over time)

and so, he opened the mostro lounge and became the sly businessman that we all know

on the first day of his second year, as he was going over documents after closing the lounge, he felt a slight tingle in his hand

Azul's eyebrow rose in response to an unexpected sensation. A peculiar warmth, like a gentle caress, emanated from the back of his gloved hand. Intrigued, he swiftly removed his gloves, revealing smooth, pale skin. A gasp of astonishment escaped his lips as his eyes fell upon a minuscule masterpiece, a tiny, adorable octopus delicately inked in pen.

"Is this...real?" Azul murmured, his voice tinged with disbelief. A surge of hope surged through his entire being, dispelling the weight that had burdened him for far too long.

With a trembling hand, he grasped his own pen and cautiously began to sketch his own octopus upon his wrist, with one tentacle reaching out, holding hands with your octopus.

And he can't stop he smile that graces his lips when a little heart appears between the two octopi.

What a hectic day it had been! For a magicless student to arrive in NRC and for him to finally connect with his soulmate!

...?

Oh. Azul had to speak to said magicless student as soon as possible.

when the two of you start being a couple, Azul does everything and anything for you

when you're in exams and your nervously doodling sea creatures, he'll draw some flowers nearby to help calm you down

no he doesn't help you cheat by writing you the answers, he's already given you the perfect study materials, you shoud put in some effort too

he gets jealous if you draw other sea creatures too much though, especially moray eels

he lets you work at the lounge with a very high pay, making sure you're not working too hard, and always offers to tutor you if you're struggling

his soulmate had to go to a different world just to find him, you'll be sure he helps to settle in and hopefully never leave again

Insert clingy octopus wrapping his tentacles all around you because he can't bare to let you go

when you have dates and appointments, he'll help remind you by writing on his arm

this man has waited for you his entire life, he's ready to lay the world down at your feet if you ask him to

Masterlist

if you liked this post, don't forget to reblog!

[your-ne1ghbor]

Asha's Animal Side Kick

Now presenting...

the one...

the only...

BONSAI !!!!!!!!!

It was either between a possum, ferret, or a great eared nightjar/type of bird, but either way, I had to go with the possum.

I liked the light brown possum a lot personally since I thought it was really cute yk??

It was also based off of this possum:

OKOK, you may be wondering why I changed Valentino, or Bonsai into a possum.

There are 2 reasons:

Numero Uno:

VALENTINO IS FUCKING UGLY

I think my friend @sewerpalette said it best here:

Nothing can convince me otherwise. His design is just SO ugly to look at. It is not pleasing.

And it doesn't help that I wanna punch his stupid fucking face like it is so punch-able

OKAY SURE, the concept versions of Valentino is cute...but ever but I didn't like how I drew goats in my style. It could be just that I'm not good at drawing them, but I also didn't like my color pallet I did for him, which was a lot like what Bonsai has color pallet wise, and it fitted Bonsai more than Valentino.

Numero Dos:

ESMERALDA HAS A GOAT SIDE KICK.

OR BETTER YET, WE HAVE ALREADY SEEN IT.

It is basically a repeat of what we have already seen, which I didn't like.

Just because you aged down a goat does not make it ORIGINAL.

Its okay to have Asha have a pet goat in the other rewrites though I don't MIND AT ALL. ITS YOUR AU U DO WHAT EVER, IM JUST MAINLY TALKING ABOUT MY ICK WITH THE MAIN FILM. IT JUST REMINDS ME OF SOMETHING ELSE.

What I'm trying to say is that Valentino feels like a refrence to Huntch Back of Notre Dom, which this movie has a thing with adding stuck out refrences instead of making it subtle. I mean I know it was a 100 year aniversary, just make it more subtle though so people can rewatch it and find refrences they didn't notice first time watching.

Anyways....

Some fun Facts about Bonsai:

Bonsai is actually a little dwarf, and the runt of his family. Asha adopted him when she found out Amaya told Charo (Charo is a lynx btw) to get rid of them all since she thought they were rats (even though they are fucking HUGE) (PLUS IT IS TO EMPATHESE ON THE FACT THAT THEY ARE MISTAKEN FOR RODENTS WHEN THEY AREN'T, THEY ARE APART OF THE MARSUPIALS FAMILY AND THEY GET RID OF RODENTS/EAT THEM)😭

(I might actually make him slightly bigger than how I drew Bonsai, but who knows yk?)

So Asha took the responsibility of taking care of the little Possum, since she didn't want the possum to grow up alone, and so that she can have some company.

IT TOOK A LONG WHILE for Bonsai to warm up and trust Asha, but in the end, he saw her good nature and swore to protect Asha like how Asha protected him from getting eaten from Charo. Which is why he dislikes Star Boy A LOT (mainly because he doesn't trust how this creature can literally transform into anything and doesn't want him to end up being something like Charo 😭)

He is just a little guy that wants to make sure his friend doesn't get hurt by a celestial force.

This is basically how I imagine how they both would meet:

(Just wait till he finds out Asha likes him. He is going to be so judgemental)

To get this part out of the way, if I end up having Bonsai speak, it would sound like a child, since I DREADED when the goat started...TALKING LIKE A GROWN ASS MAN LIKE NO PLEASE NO. And it would be more adorable yk?? :3

Lastly, here is the first doodle I did of him.

(JUST IMAGINE HIM TALKING LIKE A CRAZY 7 YEAR OLD LIKE THAT WOULD BE SO FUNNY)

@oh-shtars @annymation @signed-sapphire @chillwildwave @spectator-zee @uva124 @rascalentertainments @tumblingdownthefoxden

I might also go with a different color pallet for Bonsai but idk yet

[that-house]

SATAN’S PERFECT IDIOT OR: POP MUSIC AND THE BATTLE FOR SURVIVAL IN NEW SPACE CITY OR: INVINO VERITAS AND THE DOCUMENTARY TO END ALL DOCUMENTARIES (AND THE WORLD)

To explain why for me, universally-beloved pop sensation Invino Veritas, being drunk on The Every Night Show with Blue Jerry Seinfeld was a bad thing would require copious context that I’m too lazy to give right now, especially when it could be revealed at a more interesting and dramatic time later. Suffice it to say the conversation had started bad, and was going worse.

“is that legal?” asked famous talk show host Blue Jerry Seinfeld, bluely.

“No,” replied famous pop star Invino Veritas (me, in case you forgot), honestly.

We both trailed off into an awkward silence, the sort of silence that two famous people trail off into when one of them confesses to double-parking a private jet in front of the fire escape of an orphanage on live TV, but in my defense building an orphanage near the corner store where I buy my menthols was poor civil planning on their part. Hardly anyone got hurt, anyways.

“While we’ve got you here, would you like to say anything about your upcoming album, Always Read the Fine Print?”

I batted my eyelids coquettishly, my seventeen thousand dollar UltraGlitter eyeshadow emitting enough light to temporarily blind (and in one case, as my lawyers would later tell me, somehow permanently deafen) the audiences at home. “Well, let's just say it’s still a bit of a work in progress.”

Blue Jerry Seinfeld stared at me gormlessly and bluely. As part of his ten year contract with The Every Night Show, he was obligated to stay awake 24/7/365/10, or actually more like 24/7/365.25/10 to account for leap years. It gave him a miserable earnestness that drew his guests in and inspired them to share things they’d never even admit to themselves. He didn’t need that for me, though, because I was drunk.

“I’m actually delaying on purpose,” I continued.

Blue Jerry Seinfeld’s sleepless blue eyes bored into my soul the way a particularly blue soul drill might similarly bore into my soul, only bluer. “Tell me more about that.”

“You see, Blue Jerry Seinfeld, you know how I’m with Morgenstern Records, you know, the record label owned by Lucifer Morningstar?”

“The guy from the bible, right?”

“Yeah. He did porn for a while, too.”

“Yeah. I’ve seen that. Good stuff.”

“Yeah.”

We trailed off into another awkward silence, the sort of silence that two famous people trail off into while thinking about the biblical Lucifer’s penis and its frankly ridiculous proportions. Thirteen inches length, seven inches circumference, by the way. I know you were wondering.

“Anyway, what about him?”

“Yeah, so you know all those stories about how someone makes a deal with the devil, and then they get totally screwed on the wording?”

“I’m familiar,” said the man who was contractually obligated to go ten years without sleeping. He was kind of ugly, now that I thought about it.

“I don’t think you’d really get it, actually,” I said, dismissing his lived experience the same way I dismissed my first butler for not excitedly running to come greet me at the door every time I got home. I mean, it wasn’t in Gerald’s terms of employment or anything but would it really have killed him to go above and beyond every single day? (LAWYER’S ADDENDUM: Gerald MacDonald had a rare and little-known heart condition which would have killed him if he ever felt any excitement or joy, and the depressive spiral he fell into following his termination likely saved his life. You cannot conclusively prove that my client, Invino Veritas, was unaware of his condition or that she specifically ended his employment for any reason other than to protect him).

Blue Jerry Seinfeld bristled in irritation, shaking his venomous quills as if to deter a predator and making a noise that sounded like a blue, be-quilled clone of a 20th century comedian muttering “fucking divas, man” under his breath. “As you were saying,” he said, more audibly and bluely.

“As I was saying, I made a deal with the devil and then I got totally screwed on the wording.”

You know what, to save time, let’s just assume that Blue Jerry Seinfeld does everything bluely going forward, and I can just say that he did a thing and you can add in the word “bluely” yourself, because the way he did it, whatever it was, was undeniably blue. So next paragraph, when I was going to say “‘Much like me and my deal with the studio,’ said Blue Jerry Seinfeld, making everything about him, bluely,” I’ll just say “‘Much like me and my deal with the studio,’ said Blue Jerry Seinfeld, making everything about him,” and you’ll just have to keep this paragraph in mind.

“Much like me and my deal with the studio,” said Blue Jerry Seinfeld, making everything about him. Did you do it? Did you do the thing I told you to do? The super easy thing I literally just told you to do? Here, consult this flow chart:

Yes, I did as I was ordered by pop sensation Invino Veritas: good girl, or whatever you are. Keep it up!

No, I ignored the super easy request of a really hot woman: literally how did you fuck that up. The bar was so low.

“Sure, Blue Jerry Seinfeld. Whatever. Anyway, back to talking about me: so I have a seven record deal with Morgenstern Records, right? And in the last five years I’ve put out six albums, all to incredible critical and financial success. Selling my soul to the devil was the best decision I ever made.”

“But…?” said Blue Jerry Seinfeld (don’t forget).

“But… I may have neglected to Always Read the Fine Print. See what I did there? Anyways, it turns out that when the seventh album is done, I go to Hell, and so does everyone who’s ever listened to even a single second of my music.” And of course, due to my incredible popularity and sex appeal, my music is inescapable in New Space City, so every single one of the ten trillion people who live here has heard my music.

“What the fuck? My fucking kids love your music! Oh god! Oh god we’re all going to die! Oh god! Oh cruel and merciless god, all I have ever asked of you is the chance to dream again, and now it seems I will be denied even that!” Blue Jerry Seinfeld was having a panic attack, something famously pretty common in cheaply-made clones. He didn’t even have kids, he just had implanted memories from the 1990s.

It was frankly pretty embarrassing, watching this blue man break down and cry on the floor, and clearly the studio execs agreed. A crack team of clonehunters rappelled onto the stage and shot Blue Jerry Seinfeld until he stopped twitching. The corpse was dragged off stage, and The Every Night Show with Blue Jerry Seinfeld cut to commercial.

The commercial was an ad for dog food, and featured a few scandalously-uncollared dogs dancing at the club to my hit single I Literally Just Killed a Guy (So Let’s Make Out in the Back of a Cop Car), so if there were any dogs in New Space City who somehow hadn’t heard my music, well, they probably were going to Hell now, too.

A few minutes later, they’d defrosted a new Blue Jerry Seinfeld, and rammed an icepick into the part of his brain responsible for feeling fear. “Sorry about that everyone,” said the new Blue Jerry Seinfeld, oozing blue blood from a hole in his eye socket. “So, Invino, you were saying that we’re all going to Hell. I hear it’s nice this time of year.”

“Yeah, pretty much. Of course, if anyone kills me before I finish the album, I guess I’d be the only one to go to Hell.”

Why did I say that. Oh right, the context.

So when I was like, seven years old, I got into a wish-god’s windowless white van because he said he could turn me into a princess. When I told him my name was Invino Veritas, and that I lived at 3243293 Jelq Street, he started laughing.

I asked him what was so funny, and he said that he was going to turn me into a princess but then he had a way funnier idea, and cursed me so that I have to tell the truth as long as I have literally any alcohol in my bloodstream. It didn’t really affect me at the time, but once I reached the legal drinking age of twelve I started losing friends really fast because I couldn’t stop telling people that I thought I was better than them.

Who names their kid Invino Veritas, anyway? Like, that’s just asking for them to get bullied by an omnipotent, kinda pervy deity with a penchant for stupid puns. No one else in my family has a weird name, and still I got singled out for a stupid name-based curse from birth, the assholes. Whatever, I got to channel that rage into my music and I’m over it now. I’m over it.

“Could you say that again, for audiences at home?”

“Sure thing, Blue Jerry Seinfeld. When I finish my next album, every single person and dog and elf in New Space City will be immediately sent to Hell, unless I’m killed before it’s done.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to say, before a swarm of desperate fans looking to avoid eternal damnation storms the studio?”

“Just that I hear your complaints, and I’m listening, and I think I can delay the album for, like a year or two, so you should do whatever you want in the time you have before the world ends. Quit your job. Go on that vacation. Kill a guy and make out in the back of a cop car. Preorder Always Read the Fine Print, because I don’t think I can cash those royalty checks once I’m in Hell.”

“You heard her, New Space City. This has been The Every Night Show with Blue Jerry Seinfeld, and it will continue to be The Every Night Show with Blue Jerry Seinfeld until the world ends or my contract expires.” He turned to me, gripping my arm with the sort of intensity that you only get in freshly-defrosted clones. “You can escape out the back. I’ll hold them off for as long as I can. Good luck out there, Invino.”

Aw, that was actually really sweet of him. “Thanks, Blue Jerry Seinfeld. I’m sorry I called you ugly in my internal monologue.”

“Dying feels like falling asleep,” said Blue Jerry Seinfeld, still not releasing my arm.

“Okay, Blue Jerry Seinfeld.”

“Invino, even when I’m dead I don’t get to close my eyes. The cameras are always rolling.”

“Okay, Blue Jerry Seinfeld.” I tugged my arm free of his grip a little bit, but his grip was like magically-reinforced iron that was way stronger than steel or titanium, but probably weaker than magically-reinforced steel.

“The cameras are always rolling, Invino…”

“I have to go, Blue Jerry Seinfeld.” He let me go, and I sprinted out the back of the studio. Behind me, The Every Night Show with Blue Jerry Seinfeld cut to commercial again, and the screaming started.

[angelpuns]

I got reminded how much I enjoyed designing/making dresses during college so here's some old designs and also the 3 dresses I made during college! I actually had another one I embellished but I didn't take any pics of it :/

Some explanation for all of them cause teehee it interests me:

- first one is an Edwardian era Ponyo Dress that I never got to make but I remember every few months :) the pattern isn't as accurate as I'd like since I drew it before I had done a ton of research, but it'd still be fun to make one day!!

-some Mother Nature designs!! Was gonna make these as well but just didn't have the time or money :/

- peach chiffon dress that I made for a photograph project, where I dressed my friend up and then photographed her in like super run-down buildings and stuff. I just wanted to make a pretty dress :)

- metamorphosis dress. Okay so we had to make a project about metamorphosis so I was like ' reverse ugly duckling dress'. The black dress underneath is the main dress, and then the white dress on top closed in the back with snaps! I had my friend model it during our critique and she revealed the black dress underneath :) its still the best dress I've ever made - construction wise it wasn't great cause it was also the first dress I ever made- but still!

[sparrowrye]

Demi Demon || Alastor x Reader, A3 part 8

Synopsis: Alastor disappeared for 8 years, leaving you confused, crushed, and angry. You spent those years building up your new self and protecting the haven from dangers left and right. What will happen when he returns to the new changes? Will he return anytime soon? Could you even go back to the way things were?

Previous part

Part 8: the last traces

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Charlie! It's so good to see--what are you doing here?" The King of Hell stopped mid-stride to send an accusatory glare at the Radio Demon.

"Just ensuring dear Charlie here made it back safely," Alastor answered in his usual chipper tone.

"Even though she's done it countless times before?" Lucifer crossed his arms as he finished walking up to the pair. He wasn't buying Alastor's sly act.

"Call it my intuition. I had the strong urge to ensure she was safe."

"That's awfully nice of you. Too nice." Lucifer's glare didn't lessen.

"Well, either way," Charlie interfered before it grew worse, "thank you making sure I got--"

"Alastor!"

The Radio Demon froze on the spot at your angry call. He had kept his mind closed off to you but clearly he had forgotten you could see through his eyes. How had he not felt you do that?

"Well, looks like I should be getting out of your hair now." His voice was the exact opposite of what his rigid posture was suggesting. He melted into his shadows right as you burst through the grand doors to the usual Overlord meeting room, Lucifer's guards close behind.

"What happened?" Charlie asked. It fell on deaf ears as you watched Alastor's shadow thread up the nearest pillar. You teleported yourself up to the balcony and reached for him. Your fingers brushed against the dark shadow but it was enough to let you sink into the dark realm with him. Your mind wrestled with his as you drew him out of the shadow realm and back into the physical one.

He finally gave in and shoved you out of the wall first. You were on your feet in an instant as he brushed off supposed dust on his sleeve. "What ever is the reason for this behavior, my lov--" His words were cut off as you grabbed hold of his antler and yanked his face down to be level with you.

"What the Hell did you do to the children?" I demanded. He grabbed my wrist but I was quick to use my other hand and squeeze his red ear. A strangled yelp left his mouth as I pulled him all the way down. His knees hit the floor, his cane clattering to the side, as he grabbed my arm. "Tell me, Alastor!"

"I have not touched the little devils," he remarked, eyes black and magic gathering. I clamped my own shield around his mind, discovering almost immediately that it was how he had managed to keep my own magic at bay in past instances.

"What did you just call them?" I pulled his ear up, squeezing tighter. His other ear fell flat as he went with the motion in an effort to stop the pain. He failed to swallow a strangled deer noise.

"Release me."

"No."

His grip was painfully tight on my arm as he pushed himself up to his feet. I grabbed his antler and stepped back, bringing him back to his knees once again. His claws were daring to draw blood through my maroon jacket.

"They refuse to tell me what happened. So start talking, Alastor."

His dark gaze was glaring up at me, teeth in a wide, ugly snarl. He was keeping his magic pressed against my shield but not yet trying to push all the way through.

There was something else in his mind that I could sense but not understand. He was choosing not to attack me. He was fully capable but he was withdrawing, holding and waiting.

"I ensured your precious children stayed in the haven boundaries," he finally answered. One eye had returned to its normal color to look at me properly.

"How?" I pressed.

"I returned them through the shadows."

"Bullshit."

His eye went black again at the curse. It was the first curse I had used since he had given me that stupid rule way back then.

A chuckle drew both of our attention. Lucifer and Charlie had teleported up to the balcony but we're keeping enough distance to watch the show.

Something sharp like electricity went through my hands. I jerked my hands away and he finally stepped to his feet. He hooked his toe under his cane and tossed it up to his hands. "If you'd like to know the extent of what transpired, we can have a civil conversation."

I crossed my arms. "Oh because you were so civil with Nym and Thatcher?"

"A little scare never hurt anyone."

"You terrified them!"

"Nym didn't seem so terrified. In fact, she seemed quite angry. She must've learned that from you."

"Don't attempt to flatter me, Alastor. Thatcher refuses to come out of the cupboard he hid himself in."

"What I did was a fickle. It is not my fault he scares easily."

I let out a groan and turned away, running my hands through my hair and gripping my black horns. I wanted to do more. I wanted to throw him off the balcony and let him hit the floor hard—but I knew that would never happen.

My phone in my pants pocket began to ring. I heard Alastor's staticky snarl as I answered it. I returned his annoyed glare as Vox gave me the word that there were no more trucks heading to the factory.

I ended the call and stuffed it back in my pocket. "I'll be back soon."

"Where are you going?" He grabbed my arm to stop me.

"To finish off Blackwater once and for all." I attempted to pull my arm out but he wouldn't let go.

"What does that mean?" Lucifer asked, him and Charlie walking up now that the show was over and it was safe to be close.

"It means I'm sinking his last factory." My mind had subconsciously melted with Alastor's and I heard what he wanted to do. So I turned on him, "And you will remain in the haven."

"Excuse me?" he hissed. He slammed his cane on the floor. "Since when do I take orders from you?"

"Since now. The children are under my protection and Blackwater's legacy is under my watch. I killed him so I get to finish the last traces of him. You will not take that away from me."

Alastor opened his mouth to make a retort but he fell silent as I drew him into my memories. I showed him the conversation with Vox a few weeks ago.

"Tell me, dear, how's it feel to know that all your hard work will be for nothing?" He went on, "No one will challenge your haven now that he's back and defending it. You won't need our deal anymore but you're still bound to it. You might even be forgotten as news picks up on his return," he reached a blue claw towards my face, "after all, who can trump the Radio Demon?"

"I get to do this," I said in a more calm, firm tone. His red eyes looked me over as a strange, unfamiliar feeling ebbed from his mind into mine.

"Of course my dear." He gave a slight bow of his head and held out his red claw. I placed my hand in it and he placed a gentle kiss on the back. "I understand."

A swell of that same something flushed through me. He suddenly looked very appealing to look at it. His clothes sat perfectly on his shoulders, his smile twerked in a genuine one, his hair falling perfectly on either side of his face, and his red eyes not holding an ounce of ill will.

I withdrew my hand and turned to Lucifer, bowing deeply and apologizing.

"Nonsense dear, this was quite interesting to watch," Lucifer said. His black hand touched the side of his face and Charlie had her hands clasped in front of her.

"We should hold a gala to celebrate," Charlie announced, eyes lighting up with the idea.

"That won't be necessary," I tried.

"You've done a lot for both of us," Lucifer agreed with his daughter. "It's the least we could do. Besides, we'll want the Overlords to see you after you've rid Blackwater from the surface."

I had spoken to Lucifer on many occasions. He had given me lessons on Angelic magic while I was an ear to listen to some of his problems. Only recently had I started to actually give advice to the ruler of Hell—both of us being in similar situations.

Lucifer's point of the Overlords was because of their growing apprehension about the Hazbin Haven, my acquaintances with Hell's royalty, and the disappearance and arrival of my soulmate. I had been challenged time and time again while Alastor was gon. It stopped only in the past two years. Now that he was back, rumors began fluttering around (mostly over the Internet) about challenging me again in an attempt to rid the realms of the Radio Demon.

Me. A weak link, yet again.

So I gave into their idea and allowed the two of them to plan it out. Alastor and I took our leave outside the palace doors and teleported back to the nightly surface. I turned to face him as soon as we manifested completely.

"I want you to remedy what you did with the children while I'm gone," I demanded gently. I didn't want to start another fight.

"Why should I?" he naturally returned.

"Because when I return I don't want to take the time to coax him out of his hiding place. Unless of course you don't want to spend any time with me tonight." I turned towards the house with a dismissive wave over my shoulder.

"We usually spend the night together," he said nonchalantly, following after me.

"That's a shame you feel that way," I turned to walk backwards along the side of the house, "because I was hoping to spend some...quality time with you." My palms were sweaty and I worried I would trip on my wobbly legs.

"What are you implying, dear?" His smile turned smug as he picked up his pace to walk closer to me.

"You didn't seem interested though, so there's no use in explaining."

He was quick to wrap an arm around my back to bring us to a stop. His claws tapped his cane as he leaned down close to my face. "I am thoroughly interested now."

I reached up to hook a claw on his bow tie. It wasn't to pull him in, just a weight on his neck. "I guess you'll have to find out when I come back."

His hand pushed into my back so he could kiss me. I closed my eyes as I reached my hand up to sit comfortably on the side of his neck. I felt him sigh into the kiss.

"Only," I pushed his chest away, "when you've gotten Thatcher out of the cupboard.

He straightened up with an irked smile. "Very well." I turned away and let my tail brush against his hand.

****

What would the me twelve years ago think if she saw me walking into a factory full of enemies?

My magic was suffering no issues as I walked through the thick snow. As figured, the last factory was somewhere cold. It wasn't on the frozen ice land like it predecessor, but it was cold enough to deter any Demons from trying to get through. It made even more sense as I passed machines that were shaving ice into snow and blasting them into the air.

Smart.

I continued to trudge through the snow. I made it through the horrid snowstorm as I passed the third row of snow machines. The factory was in sight, as were the guards. They were quick to pull the trigger.

The bullets barely came within a foot of me, casually flying off to the sides when it hit my air shield. I kept my hands clasped behind my back as I stepped through. The bullets went right back to their owners.

My magic energy went up as their souls wound their way into my claws.

I casted wind into the heavy metal doors and send freezing cold air through the entirety of the building. It froze gears and shriveled wires. The workers ducked under machines but it would be of no use. I sent Alcine to find the gas lines just as I had done before.

My eyes scanned the scenery for movement—for the owner of the operation. I felt the air displace behind me and spun to find a man dressed in all black with a gas mask. Its big red eyes glowed at me.

"Who are you?" I demanded. My tail whipped behind my back. I loved fighting with it and part of me hoped he would attempt hand-to-hand combat with me.

He never answered me. He brought his hand to his hip to withdraw a katana, its blade shimmering in the artificial lights. Disappointment filled my chest at the prospect of using magic instead.

A gunshot went off. My reactions were too slow.

Pain jolted through my knee and sent me to the floor. I attempted to shield myself but my magic was wobbly in my hands.

Another gunshot went off. This time it hit the floor a centimeter from my head. I saw the flurry of movement and rolled to the side as sparks from the first man's katana skidded across the floor.

I grabbed the closest worker and yanked them over me. The two men stopped.

"The infamous Dragon Demon. Alastor's soulmate." A machine coated voice echoed off the metal. I couldn't tell who was talking.

"We are Azrael and Esdras. Unpleasant to meet you."

My knee was in so much pain. "Likewise."

My magic was gone but this wasn't the first time I needed to piece it back together. I felt Alastor attempt to teleport to me but I kept him away.

Not yet. Please not yet.

This was my battle.

I held the worker, an older woman in her late thirties, in front of me so that her head covered most of my face. I had no idea how accurate the man with the pistol was with his weapon. I noticed a strange glow along the edges.

Angelic weapons.

I hated those things.

"It's time to let Blackwater go," I said. I kept my eyes open as I searched for the pieces of my magic. I could feel them gravitating back towards me, meaning the effects of an angelic bullet only lasted so long.

"He will never truly die," the robotic voice answered. "His legacy will carry on. No matter how times we are suppressed."

"You are attempting to suppress and hunt another species to extinction." The woman shifted uncomfortably in my hold.

"A species that doesn't belong in this realm."

"Even the children who were born here? Who have no idea of their ancestry and history?"

"Blackwater has given many warnings to allow the smart and innocent to retreat back where they came from."

I got a grip on air. "I am giving you one now." The pair fell back as I casted my wind into their stomachs. I dragged the woman with me as I half transformed into my Dragon form. I clambered past the cowering workers and jumped up to the second level.

A faint smell of gas told me Alcine had found the right pipeline.

Another gunshot.

The woman fell limp in my arms.

A third one.

This time I fell.

My hand clasped over my face as my magic disappeared again. I scrambled into the nearest room, an empty one with nothing in it, and cowered in the corner next to the door. I shrank back to my normal size and waited for them to come up. My nose was dripping blood all over my maroon jacket. Thankfully it wasn't white.

My natural ears picked up their footsteps with ease. I dug my claws into the wall and pressed my back into the ceiling corner like a spider. The man holding the pistol entered first, pulling the trigger as soon as he came around the door.

I slammed my tail into his face and sent him sprawling back. I dropped onto his chest, my footclaw pining his arm to the ground and wrenching his weapon out of his grip.

Footsteps caught my attention. I turned as the sword nearly grazed my shoulder. I rammed the top of my head into his mask, effectively shattering the oxygen cap on the front nose. I slashed my tail into his ankles to take his feet out from under him.

The smell of gas was getting stronger.

Taking the pistol with me, I slithered out of the room and down the stairs to the main floor. It was much stronger here.

It took me significantly less time to take back my magic. I ran to the front doors and casted the runaways back into the factory. These people needed to die with their cause.

Alcine came back and melted into my normal shadow. I shifted past the walls and stood at a safe distance in the cold snowy landscape. I turned my palms to the sky, my earth magic returning first and allowing me to create a cavern for which it to fall into.

It fell sideways into the ditch with a horrible groan that could be heard for miles. Next, I brought my fire back and ignited the gas. It sunk further into the ground.

Plain. Simple. Easy. Bloodless.

My hands had gotten only slightly dirty. I pulled out the angelic pistol and examined it as the factory continued to sink. Why was Carmilla selling angelic weapons to Humans? Was she even doing that on purpose? I would need to ask her the next time we spoke.

An annoyingly familiar whirring sound caught my attention. I tilted my head back to see Vox's stupid drone coming closer. I stuffed a hand in my pocket to look nonchalant and healed the injury on my nose. I then finished the last healing of my knee.

I looked down at the pistol. Would breaking it do anything? Could I even break it? I was half angel.

I tossed it in the snow then turned away. It would be smart to try something like that on camera if I didn't know the outcome. I had just sunk the last traces of Blackwater. If his people ever did resurfaced, we knew how to keep them down. I had the power to do that.

Alastor was strong but so was I — we were a match made in Heaven (pun intended). People shouldn't want to mess with us because of our combined power, not just because Alastor was a ruthless killer. Hopefully this proved it.

I let the ground eat the pistol as I covered up the cavern that had swallowed the factory. Good riddance, Blackwater.

Now, it was time to return to my family. To Alastor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Author's Note:

Y'all better have a fork and knife for the next part 'cause it's gonna be delicious. I'm going to try my hardest to get it posted on Wednesday

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@wendigonamecaller @saccharine-nectarine @thesimpybitch @papas-ghoulette @masochist-downfall

[changenbirthenstein]

Pranks

(Content Warning: Transformation, Birth, Egg Laying)

“Stop being such a wimp, it’s a harmless prank!”

My friends stood across from me, smirking. This was something we’d been planning for months, and yet now it seemed… wrong, dangerous in a way I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Oh sure, it has been easy, fun to talk about. All a big joke, but in my head I could still tell myself it was all just a big game. I could reassure myself, think it was just a thought exercise, nothing anyone else really wanted to follow through with.

Now though… we were really in front of her farm. The one people talked about in whispers, the one ran by the old ugly woman that was only seen in town around the fall seasons. She never hired any help, never came to the farmer’s markets, never seemed to socialize. All the old farmer would do is glare at everyone she hobbled past, jabbing them with her walking stick when they got in her way, paying for various supplies with money nobody knew how she got.

Of course such strange, hostile behavior would lead to rumors. It didn’t help that nobody had ever seen her working her fields, and yet always had incredible yields come harvest. With becoming a local myth comes a certain degree of people like us wanting to poke the tiger, to discover the truth, certain we’d be ok, find something nobody else had.

The plan was simple. Sneak onto the property, make our way to her barn. Throw some paint over some of her animals as a “costume” for halloween and then get out. And if we looked around for some clues as to how she was managing the farm all on her own, what was the harm of that? And really, what could she do? The cops wouldn’t do much even if she called them, and its not like she would shoot us.

Terra rolled her eyes and walked toward the low fence marking the boundary of the old woman’s farm. “Seriously, you all are so lame sometimes, I don’t get why I hang out with you.” With that, the blonde girl hopped over the barrier with little effort, turning and holding her arms out to show that she was alright. “See? I didn’t evaporate or explode or something. Now come on, lets get this over with.”

Eve was the next one over, a little less gracefully but still without any injury. “Come on, Becca! We don’t have all night, the longer we take the more likely we’ll get caught!” I couldn’t deny the logic of that. Pushing my glasses up my nose, I exhaled slowly, and then hoisted myself over the fence to join my friends. This was it. I was really doing my first real prank. There was no going back.

We crept as quietly as possible with our bag full of paint, wincing at the occasional dull clunk, until we were just outside of the large barn. Quickly, Eve moved to the door and heaved it open enough for us to slip through. She’d always been the biggest of us, sort of the brawn of our trio to my brains and Terra’s beauty. She grinned excitedly as we all entered, and she pulled the door shut behind us.

The bags landed on the ground with a clunk, and Terra clapped with delight. “I can’t believe we’re really doing this!” she whispered, before grabbing a can and carrying it toward some of the sad-looking livestock. One of the cows forlornly moo’d at her, blinking slowly as she approached. “God, look at them. So bloated and gross. Only good for pushing out babies and making milk. Could you imagine having to live as one of them?”

I forced a chuckle, trying not to seem as nervous as I was as I began to look around. “Personally, I think chickens are worse.” I said, only half paying attention as I saw a stall that didn’t have any animals in it and went to investigate. It was right by the front, it’s odd that she’d just keep it completely empty. Maybe supplies? “All they do is lay eggs. Even if it’s not as painful as, like, birth, I can’t imagine how awful it would be. And their cloacas are so gross.”

I drew closer, pulled the stall door open. There was a desk littered with papers, words and pictures jumbled all over. “Pigs.” Terra smirked, grabbing a can of her own. “Nasty, smelly, stupid little hooves. Not strong, not fast, not good looking. The worst of every world, seriously. The only way Pigs aren’t average are all the ways they suck extra hard.”

This was weird. Most of this stuff wasn’t in english, in fact it seemed to be a lot of runes and such. This didn’t make any sense. There was a splash and a distressed bellow from a cow, followed by another gush of liquid and upset squealing from the porcine victims. The paint can for me was left unused as I continued to try to understand what I was looking at. Circles and pentagrams, ingredient lists, strange steps to lengthy rituals. Things labeled “Grant Fertility” and “Animate Plant”. Hand signs, chants…

I stepped back, eyes darting around, my spine tingling with sudden fear. “Uh… girls? I think… something is wrong here.” I turned, walked out of the stall, turning toward my friends. “This isn’t normal. All this stuff… it’s like she’s some kind of sorceress, or enchantress, or…”

“Witch, actually, is what I prefer. Thank you very much.”

I spun around as my friends jumped. There, in front of the door, it hadn’t even moved. She was hunched over, elderly, grinning wide. She made a hand sign, whispered a phrase in a language I didn’t understand, and then… darkness.

) —-------

Everything felt wrong.

My skin was tingling as my eyes slowly opened. I whimpered at the discomfort as I rolled over, finding myself in a large bare patch of the field, nothing but dirt under me. Well… dirt and symbols, coating the ground in a strange dark substance around me. They ended at a wide circle, surrounding me but giving me room to be laid on the ground without touching the edges. To either side of me, making their own pained moans of waking, were Terra and Eve, contained in their own strange circles.

I opened my mouth to answer, but all that came out was a moan as I held my middle. Something was happening, a pressure building inside me. I whimpered, panting, my body feeling overheated as, under my palm, I felt my pubic mound growing firm. Starting to round ever so subtly, barely pressing out before it went away.

Judging from the confused sounds and whimpers of discomfort from nearby, my friends had just gone through similar growth spurts of their own. This didn’t make any sense… my mind was putting pieces together but I refused them, wouldn’t let myself accept what I’d just felt.

“Ah, you’ve woken up. Good, good. I always enjoy it when they’re awake for the good bits.” The tone was filled with malicious mirth, the voice creaky and cold. Looking up, I saw her. The… the witch. God, this was real, wasn’t it? She really was a witch. Could she have done something to us?

“I noticed you seem to have been curious about my livestock. My spells were all shuffled around, thought I wouldn’t notice, did you? I won’t bother asking who you are or who sent you. I’m sure you’ll deny it, lying and insisting you don’t know what I’m talking about. ‘We’re just from the town, we were just exploring, please let us go home!’ Oh yes, I’ve heard it all before. And that suits me just fine, if I’m being honest. You see, I can show you everything you could want to know!”

I opened my mouth to protest, to tell her she had it all wrong. Instead, I grunted, gasping as sweat beaded on my forehead. Once more, the skin of my palm pulled away from the center, and I whimpered as my middle started to push forward, slowly, subtly, once more. “What’s happening to me?!” Terra begged, voice watery with panic.

The witch cackled, eyes gleaming in delight. “Oh darling, you’re to be congratulated! You see, you’re expecting, all three of you! Buns in the oven, such a magical experience!” Eve grunted, gritting her teeth, before saying “I can’t be pregnant. Never had sex. Oh god!” Her rebuttal was stopped by another growth spurt from inside, my own burden seeming to react. My skirt was too tight, digging into my expanding midriff, the pressure of unwanted life developing rapidly within only getting worse.

“We can’t be pregnant… I can’t have a baby!” Terra sobbed, panic taking hold. It was impossible, yet… my chest was aching. My hips were sore. I definitely FELT pregnant. I could only assume, as I looked down at the belly slowly peeking out from under my shirt, and seeing how far along my friends were, that I looked pretty pregnant too. “You really can, dear.” the crone smirked, delighting in our distress. “Just a bit of magic to help your body along, and these little ones took root just fine. You’ll be in labor within the hour, if even that. Can you believe it, girls? You’re going to give birth soon. Oh, I wonder how you’ll scream and cry, especially considering the little surprise that’s going to come with it…”

Heat coursed through me. The growth came in surges. All I could do was try to endure, painting and whimpering in discomfort as I rapidly gestated a child I was nowhere mentally prepared for. I was going to have a baby… Did this make me a mom? Did this count as rape? Nothing made sense. This couldn’t be real, it couldn’t.

My friends endured their own conditions much less quietly than me. Terra was melting down, trying to burst out of her circle, only to find an invisible barrier there. She slammed her fists against it, begging to be let out, even as she hunched forward, groaning as another spurt took her, the moans seeming to slowly get lower, deeper. Eve, meanwhile, kept grunting, the sudden surges of gestation apparently painful for her as they got more guttural and rippling. She just knelt, watching her belly swell in helpless horror. She’d told me years ago that she had been terrified at the idea that someone could just… make her pregnant, if they wanted to, if she was unlucky. Now that nightmare was coming true.

I, meanwhile, watched my little bump continue to grow into a fertile swell. Strechmarks began to form near the back, my navel was nudged into an outie. The others whimpered and gasped, talking about sudden kicks from inside, but I didn’t feel anything. Just ever more pressure. Maybe it was because my belly seemed to be growing slower than the other two? Poor Terra seemed huge, barely able to move as her feccund orb just wouldn’t stop growing, and Eve was noticeably larger than me as well.

“Wonderful. It’s almost time. You are quite the lovely group of mother-to-be’s. You should be proud of yourselves, you’re about to have your very first babies. Isn’t that wonderful?” The witch couldn’t hide the cruel glee in her voice, seeing how her words only upset us further. It’s not like we could do anything about it. We were trapped, as much by our own unwanted fertility as her magic. This was happening, and there was nothing we could do to stop it.

Another surge took me, different than the others. My eyes went wide as my womb squeezed, contracting. The pressure spiked horribly, and then released. To my shame, fluid ran out of me, soaking my panties. My first contraction… my waters… I knew what that meant. It was time. I was going to give birth for this horrid woman, no matter how much I hated it.

“Oh God no, no no, I can’t, I can’t do this!” Terra cried, the crotch of her jeans dark and a damp patch of dirt under her. “Please no… I don’t want a baby, please don’t make me have a baby!” Eve in turn whispered, the terror of her impotence, the delivery inevitable washing over her. I wanted to comfort her. To tell her it was going to be ok.

The contraction took me as I opened my mouth to speak, and all that came out was a cry of agony, the need to push slamming through my mind, washing almost everything else away. Just the need to bear down, and… the feeling of wrongness on my skin. No… not on it. In it. And as I parted my legs, leaning back on my hands, feet curled under me as I bore down… I felt something else coming out. Something that was even worse than this burden I’d been forced to carry.

I could feel that this labor, my giving in and pushing, was giving it power. Making it even worse. But I couldn’t resist, couldn’t stop. Whatever this twisted essence was doing to me, it was just as inevitable now as me giving birth for the witch. “Hmmm, here it comes… oh, I wonder who will realize first…” The cruel magician smirked, delighting in our pain and violation.

Something slipped down. Moving inside me. Firm, smaller than I feared, but larger than I could believe. I gave in, pushing with the pain. I was in labor, and every fiber of my being just needed whatever life I had been growing inside me to get out, as fast as possible. Yet, as I pushed… Something else came. My fingers hurt, throbbing, burning, along with my toes. I fell forward, onto my hands and knees.

Tears blurred my vision, but I still saw it. As I pushed, my fingers twitched of their own accord. Pushing together. Pressing into one another unnaturally hard the more I felt whatever was inside me inching down, toward my damp opening. Then, before my eyes… on my right hand. My middle and index fingers. They just… melded. It hurt so much. The flesh searing, feeling like my hand was melting. The skin glistened with sweat, and yet it was impossible to unsee. There were four fingers on my right hand now.

Another contraction came. I screamed with effort, shaking my head in denial, panic rising in my throat as those four fingers painfully became three. MY feet burned, throbbed inside their shoes and socks, and I could feel the bubbling, popping agony of my left foot losing a toe to whatever was happening to me.

“My nails! God it hurts!” Terra moaned from next to me. Looking over, I saw something similar, but different was happening to her. Her fingernails had turned a deep black, and seemed to have thickened. Even as I watched, another contraction came, and as she pushed it seemed that the dark mass almost seemed to be… expanding. Pushing back into her fingers, further than normal.

Eve let out a squeal of horror. “My back! It’s so bad! Make it stop!” I turned, and saw the poor girl’s jeans starting to bulge. Something else was coming, the strain was too high to be her vagina, the magically created baby starting to crown against her will. No, this was somehow more distressing, something impossible. “It’s pushing! This can’t be happening!”

I felt the need to give birth crash over me once more, resisting it for even a second impossible. I pushed, giving my all to getting this thing out of me, and to my horror my right hand screamed in pain as the rest of my fingers melded, nails clacking to the ground, a formless lump of flesh on the end of my arm. My left foot throbbed, my ankle screaming as it felt like the bone had somehow broken, pressing at the skin from inside, threatening to tear out.

There were mere moments to catch my breath, and then I lost myself to the pain and urgency once more. I watched my mutated hand widen, flatten… my elbow starting to ache… the skin itching, burning, until… Something sprouted. Tiny little wisps pushed out of the skin, growing and unfurling into…

“Feathers!” the witch crowed in delight. “Oh my, can you put together the pieces now? You seem like the smartest of the bunch!” I shook my head, not because I couldn’t figure it out. It was all too obvious. No, I shook my head in denial of the horrifying reality. Not wanting to believe this. Not wanting this to be my inescapable fate. I felt a scream bubbling up my throat. It was so big, so much… I couldn’t hold it back, even though I felt like I had to.

The next squeezing cramp it. I threw my head back, pushed with all my might as I felt my vagina bulge, pressing into my soaking wet panties, my firstborn just behind my lips. I had to let it out. I had to let it happen. I opened my mouth to scream.

“Buh-GAWK!”

A shudder ran through my body. That sound… I had just broken some kind of seal. Given into something I had needed to fight. I had just made this inescapable, I could feel it. There was nothing I could do now, and deep down I knew it was my fault.

By leting that bestial sound free, I knew I had made it so I would live the rest of my life as a chicken.

There would be no cure now. No fixing it. No going back. Ever. It was coming out of me, taking over my body, my life, and I would be trapped forever. I let out a choked sob, feeling what I now knew, beyond any doubt, to be an egg, a chicken egg, pressing into my underwear. The first of many.

My vagina burned as I began to crown. Feathers ran down my transformed arm, pushing painfully out of the skin, my bones cracking painfully as they hollowed, began to bend and twist into new shapes. Becoming a wing. A chicken’s wing.

Terra screamed. She held her hands in front of her face, horrified. Her nails. They had grown more, overcoming her fingertips, eating back into her hands. Her fingers had seemingly begun fusing together, and I could hear the crunches and pops of her bones beaking, being crushed and absorbed by this mass.

“No…” the blonde girl panted, placing her hands on the ground. “Noooo…” she groaned, seemingly bearing down with her next contractions. “N-n-noooooo, please…” she managed, as her feet bust out of her shoes, a mangled dark mass of her former toes being warped into their new, permanent shape. “M… M… MOOOOOO!!!”

I saw the soon-to-be cow’s eyes go wide. She knew now, just as I did. That she was about to give birth to an ugly calf. That her body was about to agonizingly mutate into a cow. That she would never escape this life. The one she had mocked before, said sounded like the worst possible thing.

Likewise, grunting and squealing came from Eve. Her curly tail ripped through her pants. Her hands crunched and snapped as they turned into delicate trotters. Her voice began to change as, slowly, her nose began to curl up, nostrils widening, skull starting to elongate.

My own shoes began to bulge, and on the next contraction, they split. A blood-covered toe extended from my mangled ankle, while only three remained on the front. I couldn’t stop pushing, but to my relief, the first egg slipped out of me, bulging into my panties. I felt it slide down, over my sensitive vagina, nudging my clit as I shuddered. I’d just laid an egg. This was my baby. I felt so wrong, so violated, even as my other hand began to meld together.

Another animalistic bellow from Terra drew my attention, and with a smirk the witch twitched a finger, the poor girl’s shirt tearing away. Her breasts were exposed, and it was easy to see they were sinking lower as another pair began to bulge into existence just above her waistband. “That’s right… You’re growing an udder… and a tail… You’re going to be an ugly cow. I do so love ruining the pretty ones…” the vile farmer grinned, loving the misery she’d caused.

The new breasts fused with the old ones as they reached her groin, engorging into a grotesque pink sack, bulging with milk. “Good girls… mmm,none of you need these silly things, do you?” With a wave of her hand, the witch banished our clothing, leaving our warped, twisting bodies utterly vulnerable. “Just let the changes take you… push out your babies so you can join the others in the barn, I’m sure they’ll be happy to see you…”

I wanted to curse her. I wanted to tell her to go to hell. Instead, another shrill “BAWWWK!” escaped as I threw my head back once more, feeling, to my horror, as my girlhood began to move. It pulled back, further and further, directly between my legs, then further still. It burned, throbbed, as I felt it beginning to merge with my rear. The muscle and skin searing as the two openings became one humiliating, disgusting hole.

I could barely pay attention to the others, as my next egg slid out of me and plopped softly onto the ground, my legs starting to turn scaly and crunch their way up into my abdomen. I saw Terra’s increasingly thick, leathery vagina bulging, little hooves starting to peek out from inside her. I saw Eve’s face extend into the snout of a pig, her ears growing floppy even as mine vanished into my skull.

My eyes became small and beady as Terra’s became large and sad. My teeth itched, and I screamed in horror as they fused, a beak bulging out from the inside of my mouth as my nose fused into the rest of my face, glasses falling into the first alongside the eggs that had been sliding out of my foul, sore opening. One piglet slid from inside my porcine friend, tears running down her face as it nuzzled up to her and latched even as its unwanted sibling began to crown.

With a desperate bellow, the now fully cow felt her first calf slide unceremoniously out of her and onto the ground, head hanging low in shame as it came and suckled at her humiliating udder. The others were done as I shrank, my fleshy comb bubbling up from the feathers… I couldn’t stop, the eggs just kept coming. I couldn’t stop pushing, delivering, each one hurting just as much as the first.

This was going to be my life now. All our lives.

[cupidscatcafe]

Guys I finally got to see Inside Out 2 and omg do I need to rant

Inside Out is my current hyperfixation and I’m so happy I got to have it right when the second movie came out

So here’s everything I wanted to talk about from my first viewing of Inside Out 2 (Spoilers, obviously)

I’ve placed these in (rough) chronological order

1. Getting to see the emotions room! So, I actually missed the first few minutes because we accidentally bought 3D tickets instead of normal ones so we got the times mixed up. But! I got to see the Demo Day scene on YouTube and OMG THEIR ROOM⁉️ ITS SO CUTE 😭 THE BUNKBEDS, JOY AND FEAR HAVING STARS ON THEIR WALLS, AND ANGER HAVING THE WINDOW THINGY ON HIS 🥺

2. The emotions bed clothes! Omg I would kill for Joy’s pjs! They’re so cute and they definitely made a great decision with the design! I would have never thought of Sadness in a robe but omg does she look adorable! Fear and his plushie are actually like the cutest thing ever aND DISGUST⁉️ SHES SO PRETTY OMG 😭 Not much to say for Anger just cuz I feel like people would of kinda expected that to be his bed clothes 😭

3. “Who are you people?” I just kinda think the line delivery was neat :3 also the way Disgust puts herself between the construction people and Sadness to, like, protect her, its just so cute 😭

4. Ennui and her phone I know people don’t really like her that much but I did! I like how she had an app that she could control the console from but where did she even get it from? 😭 Did someone make that just for her or did she just “spawn” with it? 😭

5. “You can’t bottle us up!” The fact Joy gave them that idea and the way Embarrassment poked holes in the jar for them like they’re little rats you’d find in your kitchen 😭 I guess that is kind of what they were to the new emotions but I love how they literally bottled up emotions

6. Lance struggling to walk through the door I just thought it was funny he kept walking into the wall and it took a few tries for him to get through the door 😭

7. Disgust willingly sitting on a slice of pizza Do you know how greasy and gross pizza is 😭? She was hesitant to stand on broccoli but she was fully willing to sit in grease 😭 I just feel like that’s something she would never do 😭

8. The climb up the recall tube Just the way that Sadness was the last option 😭 Fear and Anger werent even an option to Joy, her first choice was Disgust and the only reason she didn’t do it was because she didn’t want to get her dress dirty 😭 Sadness was the only one left so she had too 😭

9. Sar-chasm Really no explanation, the joke is just funny imo

10. Joys “OF COURSE IM DELUSIONAL” It’s been stuck in my head since I first saw a clip of that on Tik Tok and it seriously plays in my mind over and over 😭 I also think it gives us a better idea of what goes on in her head and I really appreciate it 🙏

11. Pillow fort Joy being asked if she was drawing a hippo when she was drawing Riley and her hockey team, Disgust using Anger as a clipboard, Anger drawing Riley giving flowers to the other team, no one standing with Joy when she asked who was on her side, that one person who drew a cat, I just love the scene all together 😭

12. Brainstrom It rains light bulbs ☹️ /pos

13. “Grab an idea” The way Disgust didn’t even wait for any other order and just jumped off the balloon thousands of feet high in the eye of the storm 😭 She could have tried to catch an idea that came near her but she decided to jump 😭

14. Fears parachute He definitely has other safety equipment on his person and I need to know what else he has 🙏 he probably wears knee/elbow pads under his clothes or something 😭

15. Riley dying her hair She used that cherry koolaid thingy to dye her hair in the bathroom and omg that’s so real 😭 I, personally, used to use chalk though 😔

16. Anxiety During the panic attack scene where shes moving so quickly that it looks like she isn’t moving at all 😭 The small flickers were so cool 🙏 I love her design ngl, like shes so ugly shes cute, her character is honestly just so relatable, I love her sm ☹️

17. Riley’s hair Idrk what to say here, I just like her hair and the way it looks damp after her panic attack is just some cool animation 😭

18. Nastolga I just think the joke of her coming to hq when its not her time is funny 😭 She seems like such a cool character and if theres a 3rd movie I would love to see more of her!

19. Anxiety’s Chair I just think it’s really cute that they gave her a massage chair, it looks so relaxing 😭

20. Disgust constantly cleaning her dress She’s just so real for that

21. The animation OMG THE ANIMATION WAS SO PRETTY 😭 The glitter in the emotions hair, Disgust’s run cycle was seriously adorable, Joy and Disgust’s facial expressions (I was really only watching them because they’re my favourites ngl), the different styles for Lance and Bloofy/Pouchie (+ how excited Joy is when meeting Bloofy), Joy’s glow staying (I seriously expected them to forget about it) the way the wind affects their hair, it’s just all so beautiful 😭

I might get to watch it again this week so if I notice/remember anything else I’ll add to the list 🥺

[kroosluvr]

do sumi’s earrings have any significance? or do you just like giving sumi earrings? (because i like them too)

absolutely no significance!!! i just started to draw her with them one day! (i was actually looking up my Earliest Occurrence of sumi earrings since i was curious the other day...)

i do have a comic idea im tossign around in my head for lore though!!! bc i did come up w a lore reason like a few days ago. SLKDDHSDGJKSDHGJKSW hehehe...

i think it does add to her design a little though (!?!?!?!) adds a flash of color to her long hair when its down and i just think gold suits her hehe. "go for the gold" sort of mentality......... REACH EVER HIGHER SUMIRE I BELIEVE IN U SO MUCH

celeste ugly old art under cut

yea i was a day1 shsm fan HELP MEEEEEEE but this was my first drawring of sumi w earrings it seems!

(incidentally, heres my first shsm)

we're getting closer... (also royaltrio ot3 mention.)

ANYWAYS i drew her with mostly golden heart earrings or star-shaped studs and various like helix piercings too before i settled on the iconique sparkle shape... ^^^^^^^^

[tmntkiseki]

Diary of an Idiot Trying to Learn to Draw Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Part 1: Escaping the Comfort Zone)

Before we talk turtles and the early steps of my art journey with them, let's talk about me for a little bit.

Hello, most people know me by my online nickname, Star. I'm a perpetually tired gremlin in her late 20s from New England who still lives with her parents and two brothers. (I'm the middle child!) I love my two dogs to bits, I have a weird fascination with shipwrecks and maritime disasters, and I am a known art enjoyer to point of attempting to draw her own pictures. Sometimes it goes well, other times... ah, we'll get to that.

When I think about my history in terms of drawing, it all starts with anime. My first exposure anime was through a fairly obscure one called Sky Girls; I encountered it through Dance Dance Revolution: Super Nova 2 on the PS2, as the opening to the original OVA was one of the songs available in the game. I ended up watching most of the television series and I was quick to discover that, hey, there's an entire genre of animated television series that originate from Japan; subsequently, I ended up watching several anime that were popular during the late 2000s with Lucky Star, Haruhi Suzumiya, Clannad, and Higurashi no Naku Koro Ni all being shows that I watched during this period. It's difficult to say what entranced me so much about the art style quirks we so heavily associate with anime, but it's definitely had the biggest influences on my art; not just anime itself, but video games with anime art styles as well. If I had to name which pieces of Japanese media have affected me most in terms of art development, it would be Odin Sphere, KyoAni's works (especially Violet Evergarden), and Hidari (the character designer for three of the Atelier games and Fire Emblem Echoes: Shadows of Valentia.)

"Okay, but what about when you actually began to do your own art?" WELL, I can definitely say throughout elementary school I absolutely LOVED being in art class, but I didn't start seriously practicing until I was around 13; this was when my depression first reared its ugly head, but it was also about when I first got into fandom online. Now, the first fandom I actually made "content" for was Pokemon, but that wasn't drawing; that was fanfiction. The first fandom I actually drew for?

Call of Duty: Zombies. Yeah, I think we all have that one fandom we're embarrassed to mention that we were ever involved in. Regardless of the cringe factor, it was still important for me because that was when I first started interacting with other fanartists online and if I hadn't spent so much time drawing fanart of a bunch of WWII stereotypes while I was in high school, I wouldn't have laid the groundwork for what came afterwards.

In terms of overall skill, I'm definitely way better than I was back when I first started out, but there is still so much I have to learn; I do often look at other artists who are around my age or, hell, are even YOUNGER than me and think to myself "Why am I not that good?" and, ya know, art is an acquired skill that requires a lot of practice and due to my mental illness and lack of confidence/self-worth, there were periods where I would go for MONTHS without drawing anything, so the fact I'm not where I feel like I should be skill-wise is ultimately circumstantial (there are other personal shortcomings that have also been holding me back, but we'll get to those later). I have managed to learn to stop being so hard on myself and not be as perfectionistic, and I find myself drawing more and more for the fun of it and learning new techniques that'll result in better pieces rather than anything else. These are some of the Rune Factory 4 pieces I drew last year (all Arthur/Frey ship art, oops) and at this point I can look at them and think "Yeah, they're not perfect, but I also did a pretty good job."

All right, this is the part of the post where we finally get to talking about my experiences learning how to draw the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles--specifically, the 2003 versions. It's been about a month since I started studying the show's art and even if I'm not the best artist on the block, I still have a decent amount of experience under my belt that learning how to draw them shouldn't be too hard, right? Right? I mean how hard can it be to draw four humanoid turtles?

Oh boy, of all the fandoms I've drawn fanart for, TMNT 2003 probably has one of the steepest learning curves that I have EVER experienced.

All right, what are some of the advantages do I have going in? There is my existing experience drawing, but I'd argue the fact that my brain is so hardwired to draw anime is an advantage in some ways. When I first looked at the show's art style (more specifically that of seasons 1 - 5), I was thinking to myself "How the everliving FUCK am I supposed to draw this?!" However, when I actually sat down and studied the model sheets, I was delighted to discover that a lot of the basic fundamentals that I already learned drawing anime bodies can be applied to the turtles; one of the only major adjustments I had to make was exaggerating the muscles of the arms and legs. Not only that, but one of the less human aspects of the turtles IE the plastron is actually incredibly useful as a makeshift guideline for the torsos; it quite literally divides them into chest, abdomen, and pelvis areas and I absolutely love it!

Unfortunately, that's about where my happiness with drawing the turtles ends and where my actual struggles start.

("Nekomata Mikey" from January 7th, which is probably my best and favorite turtle attempt thus far)

So, I suffer from a little something called "not liking to leave my comfort zone." It's not something that I'm incapable of doing, but getting me to break out of a repetitive routine and try something new or challenging is insanely difficult--no idea if it's a result of my autism spectrum disorder or not, but it definitely explains why I've hesitated to experiment more with my art and try new things... which is important if you want to further develop your style and improve. Oooooooh boy.

Now, I'm not necessarily looking to accurately replicate TMNT 2003's style, but I am hoping to maintain certain aspects when I draw the turtles. Stuff that is definitely contradicting what I'm comfortable with when it comes to drawing; the thick lines you see in a lot of the official art, the fact this show really likes using sharp angles to define physical features, the dark color palette of the first five seasons, the fact those seasons break the rule of "don't shade with black" that I've been taught from the beginning--a lot of stuff that I'm just not used to. It's hard not to become frustrated because half the time you have no idea what you're doing and have no idea whether it's going to look good or not.

Beyond that, there is the matter of the less human aspects of the turtles that are giving me a run for my money. I can somewhat handle the chunky three fingered hands and large two toed feet, but when I get to the heads and shells, that's where I start tearing my hair out. Even with multiple reference screenshots from the show and sassatello's tutorial on the head structure handy, I still find myself fumbling and making heads that are too angular and chunky (especially in the cheek area) or heads that are too round to the point of almost looking babyish. The shells are another matter entirely; it's weird because they are basically a dome-shaped backpack, but something about those things keeps throwing me for the loop no matter what angle or pose I'm drawing a turtle from.

*LOUD SIGH*

For all the struggles and frustrations I have, I'm still very happy to be studying and practicing how to draw the turtles. It's been about a month since I started pouring over the model sheets, taking screencaps from individual episodes to examine and annotate, and just drawing, and I've already learned so much. Not only that, but this whole experience of trying to figure out how to draw the main characters from an (almost) 21 year old cartoon has pushed me to look up... A LOT of tutorials for art skills I've admittedly been neglecting. Basic shapes used in the structure of the body, color theory and shading, all that good stuff. It is also a fact that studying the art of TMNT 2003 is exactly what inspired me to start posting all the model sheets and concept arts I have saved on my laptop. When you have a ton of art resources at your disposal, why not share them? Someone else might need them as much as you do.

I'm hoping to make another post like this in a couple months or so just to see how much I've improved, where I'm still kicking and screaming, and what areas I ought to focus on. Until then, take care and have a good day!