#the lighting did NOT render well LMFAO

[i-ideate]

i literally watched some of it and I- ngl its pretty impressive what they managed to do in roblox but also its roblox so everyone looks...interesting

guys do you think it’s worth the watch

[sakumz]

____________________________________________

₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚✧ ﾟ. [ i. shu x fem reader ]

a/n : um... I got a shit ton of editing and rewriting to do lmfao, like there's a few shots for bllk and there's still that pending mysta fic. ૮ ⚆ﻌ⚆ა

____________________________________________

" sleepover... at a friend's house? " shu asked once more, hoping what he heard wasn't true.

" yeah. mom said I could go. I'll be leaving tonight, " his sister, motoko answers. rendering the poor man speechless.

" your friend isn't kitahara, right? " he questions, his eyes twitching slightly with what the younger man could do to his sister.

" n-no! it's a girl. her sibling goes to your school anyway. ah! if you're sooo concern, you could come with me. her sibling did say I can invite you... " without a second thought, he said yes.

the walk to your house wasn't as quiet. shu was asking his sister all sorts of questions to what or who you are. his sister doesn't know your name but describing your features wasn't helping them as shu can't recall anyone with said features.

" welcome! oh you really brought your brother along. I thought big sis was joking around when she said that, " shu wanted to scream, upon hearing your sister's words. you are a girl? motoko didn't specify earlier, he only came thinking this "sibling" was a guy and could take advantage of the situation.

" why are you making the guests wait out in the cold? drag them in! " hearing your voice calling from the brightly lit room, snapped him out of his little world.

motoko, being the angel she was, grabbed her brother wrist and dragged him along with her to the house.

" you're not gonna run away now, are you? " motoko whispers as shu gulps and shook his head, assuring her lightly that he won't.

as they got comfortable with your house after a little tour by your younger sister. everyone is seated in the living room by the table. motoko and your sister decided to do some light homework as you and shu sat quietly facing each other. you're on the phone as shu tries to distract himself by studying a little but he can't.

" you can't seriously be studying right, pfft seems a little uncharacteristic. " hearing you directly speak to him, made him jump.

" ne, motoko. let's go to my room! let's study there instead. " motoko agreed with your sister and they quickly pack up and go. leaving you and him alone.

" they say it's not safe to leave a man and a woman alone, you know. " you pout seeing them go.

" I won't do anything, I swear! also, where are your parents? how come, you don't mind me tagging along moto to your place? " he finally asks.

" oh that, parents are out on some sort of wedding anniversary thing overseas. I didn't really expect you to come, hahaha. I gotta tell toru and the others this. " snapping a sudden picture of the man, left him flustered a bit. looking at his face you double take a photo of him. one with his flush faced in.

" I can't believe you. you even know toru, yet I barely remember you besides being the council secretary. you don't hang around sengoku and remi- "

" I can't stand both of them, acting all lovey dovey especially remi! she won't stop running her mouth about dates and love around me. she tells me I should find love but well... its hard so I avoid them, toru and the others are ok to a certain level. hori and miyamura may be together but they're tolerable same with the other pair. "

hearing your outburst, left the man to think for abit before opening his mouth. he shouldn't put up an act and fake his happy bubbly personality infront of you especially right now since he's been quiet at the start.

" it's late and we should sleep, you can take the couch or you can sleep in my bedroom, I'll just take my parents room for the night. "

" oh I'll take the couch just fine, thanks. " just like that the sleepover was over in a blink of an eye.

" hey toru, wanna hit the cafe after school? " shu suggests as his dear friend agrees and they're there, ordering their meals before looking for a seat.

" ne, y/n y/n! you got your eyes set on anyone yet? you seem pretty happy today. " remi starts as you cough and place your drink down.

sakura pats your back as you thank her in between your fit of coughs. the boys decide to settle in the table behind yours, staying quiet as to listen in on the conversation. being your gaming buddy, toru is indeed very curious about the sudden tea remi was stirring.

" was it the sleepover? " sakura questions as remi looks slightly offended dropping her cookie.

" you had a sleepover and you didn't invite me? " she pouts, making you frown.

" it wasn't like that. it was between my sister and her friend... she invited her brother, that's all. "

hearing your words, shu blushes from the embarrassment of what you said as toru stops eating to fully focus on the conversation. remi and sakura are stunned but it doesn't stop them from prying further.

" h-h-her brother was at your house so it was just three girls and a guy? did he do anything, was he harsh- " sakura was interrupted by remis own questions.

" who's the guy? do you know him? " shu can't help but stand from his seat. the sudden noise of the chair screeching, left everyone quiet to look at the source.

" iura? " you called as the girls tilt their heads in confusion.

" he... iura was at your house? " remi clarifies as toru look at his friend that got up to throw his trash.

" yeah but not only that he's here too. that means... toru is here too. " hearing his name he can't help but turn to wave at you, he's been caught red handed. shu stops to greet you before moving back to his seat at toru.

" back to the topic at hand, " sakura brought the two of you back as the boys were still quietly listening.

" I don't even want to talk about it anymore, " you put your head on the table as sakura comforts you by rubbing your back.

" it's fine but I am still very curious, you must have caught some sort of feeling at this point, right? everytime he barges into some sort of space you're in, there's a slight smile that crawls to your face. you don't talk to him much, but hearing others talk is kinda enough for you to figure out what type of person he is. " remi sips her drink after her little statement.

" well maybe I do like y/n-san! " shu confesses as he turn around to look at your side, making the girls shock as well as toru and you.

" dude you're too loud. " toru whispers as shu was quick to cover his face.

toru could see your slightly red face from his seat, he wanted to laugh at how cute your love story was blooming. the girls couldn't help but be stunned with the confession. it wasn't towards them but it was pretty bold and it felt like the words carried too much love to be shared.

" I'm done eating, iura... let's take this elsewhere, " you called for the green haired man as toru gave him the ok to go, he just hopes you're gonna be nice about it and not hit him like what he thinks hori would do because his loud confession got a few stares.

sakura and remi was bursting with excitement as they bid you farewell. you and him walked to a nearby bench before taking a seat.

" you... heard everything did you? " you question as he slightly pray you're not gonna hit him.

" I wasn't the only one who heard... but yes I did I'm sorry, " he looks the other way, trying to avoid all eye contact with you.

" I'm not mad, I won't hit either. um, it is true... maybe I was falling for you but can you say it again? "

" say what? "

" the confession, this time on my phone hehe. it was so adorable how you shouted I like y/n! hahaha. "

" don't remind me, besides a love confession should just be remembered... but whatever makes you happy. ahem, I love you y/n. please be my girlfriend and go out with me. "

" I love you too, shu. I'll gladly be your girlfriend. "

thats when a sweet love story blooms between you two, everyone was shock with the news of the two people they least expected to date was dating. but those don't matter as long as you were both happy.

[alphabetatoes]

under the mistletoe (n. kento x reader)

summary: you're back in town for winter break, and gojo has a plan to get you with your crush: nanami kento. cue operation: under the misletoe + let the shenanigans begin. gen. info: college au, fluff, this could very well count as a crack fic, mdni please and thank u, no beta we post like men!!1!1! c.w.: slight suggestive content toward the middle of the fic, drinking games, alcohol, dub con*, some language, everyone involved is 21+, satoru gojo is a menace to society, mutual pining, maybe possibly ever so slightly ooc, why did i make it sort of angsty at the end lmfao w.c.: 2.8k (oops - this was supposed to be a drabble) *given that alcohol consumption is a part of a fic involving intimacy (even if its kissing), im playing it safe and tagging this as well.

“Did you see who’s back home for the holidays?” Gojo practically catapults himself through the door of Shoko’s apartment, eager to break the news of your arrival back home. Geto’s eyes widened slightly in excitement, shifting up from his slouched position on the couch. “Kento’s gonna be elated. He hasn’t stopped talking about her since she left.” Nanami had come to confide in the group, Gojo especially, about his qualms with your relationship. He felt like everything was one step forward, two steps back. And the worst part? It was no one’s fault but his own. Every time he saw you, he was rendered speechless. In awe that a person like you could allow themself in his presence. Utterly and unabashedly infatuated. However, when all the words he could seem to muster to you were short and curt, it made getting to know you better just a little difficult. But, of course, you were well unaware of this. “Is he actually going to talk to her?” Shoko questions, “Or is he just gonna do that brooding thing where he looks longingly from the corner of a room?” Utahime nods in agreement, but Gojo gives a smirk. “I have the perfect plan.” Gojo fills the group in on the grandiose idea he’s come up with to get the two of you to talk to each other, aptly named ‘Operation: Under the Mistletoe’. Everyone seemed to be on the same page for the plan, but Utahime raised a skeptical brow. “Just know Satoru, if this all goes to shit I’m kicking your ass.”

You feel the vibration of your phone in your back pocket, notifying you of a new text message.

gojo: holiday party at mine tmrrw night. be there or be ⃞ ↳ 🫡🫡 yessir

Once you sent your response, you pondered on how the night would go. Would Nanami be there? Would you actually get to say more than three words to him before getting too nervous and darting away? At this point, you were certain he’d pay you no mind. One too many awkward interactions to warrant anything other than a polite acknowledgement that the two of you were in the same room at the same time. Simple semantics.

You triple checked your location to make sure you didn’t accidentally drive into a gaudy Christmas postcard. The Gojo estate was breathtaking, adorned top to bottom in ribbons, lights, and greenery. Off to the left side of the house, there was a winding garden path leading to the guest house, which doubled as Satoru’s residence when he visited home for the holidays. You parked your car and made your way up to the guest house. Gojo was waiting on the porch for you, giddy at your arrival.

“You’re here!” He jogs over to you, holding out his arm so he could escort  you in.

“Sure am. Hope I’m not too late?” The simple banter was something you’d grown to miss while away at school. You were all too ready to fall back into the routine of being back home.

“Never.” Gojo opens the door for you, and you make your way into the house. It was just as ornately decorated as the main house, with holiday decor at every corner. Shoko and Utahime come up to greet you, giving you a hug and divulging how much they missed you. Geto joins Gojo, wrapping his arm around the white haired boys waist, and greets you as well.

Nanami was propped up against the doorframe leading from the living room to the kitchen. It was surprising how a man so big was hell bent on making himself look small. You give him a small wave, and he nods quickly in acknowledgement.

After some small talk with the group, Gojo calls the party to order. “I mean, now that everyone’s here, we can start the game.”

“What game?” You and Nanami questioned the white haired boy in unison, causing a light blush to brush against your cheeks. 

“It’s called ‘Cootie Shot’. You see the mistletoe around the house?” Gojo motions at various nooks and crannies adorned with the plant around the guest house. “If you and your partner are caught under it by a different team, you gotta kiss. Otherwise, for immunity, you have to take a shot of your choice. Cootie, shot. Cootie shot!” Gojo himself would be sticking to juice for the rest of the night after having his first shot. There were a handful of nights out drinking that were memorable to say the least. “Suguru and I are together, obviously. Shoko and Utahime are partners, and, last but certainly not least, you and Kento.”

You take the shot, feeling the gentle burn of the liquor as it goes down. 

“Let the games begin!”

It took all of 20 minutes to find yourself under a bushel of mistletoe with Nanami. Ever the eager one, Gojo was first  to notice.  You look up at Nanami, giving him a nod. He’s tall enough to where you’re standing on your tiptoes to lean into the kiss. A simple peck is what he gives you. His arm rested against your waist, keeping the two of you steady. But maybe he gave you a small smirk once you pulled away, just for the two of you. And you could taste the liquor lingering on his lips from the first shot of the night.

The game continued on throughout the night, with Gojo and Geto in the lead. They’d managed to catch Shoko and Utahime five times already, but neither seemed to mind the shot penalty. You and Nanami caught the former pair a couple times. Gojo opted to stick to the “cootie” part of the game after the first shot though, partially under the advice  of  his partner but also to make sure he didn’t make a complete ass of himself. The night was still young, and there was still plenty that could happen.

Gojo put on a holiday mix of music he claimed to have ‘curated perfectly’ and to set the atmosphere for the night. As if on cue, you could hear the piano chords of an all too popular hit from the 80’s. “What’s a party without a power ballad?” Shoko and Utahime immediately jumped in and began acting out the lyrics with him. It was a performance worthy of awards. You might have even shed a tear if you didn’t look over at Kento actively trying not to laugh at the sheer intensity of the show. And his laughter was contagious, with you yourself falling victim to it. Once everyone was able to collect themselves, you all decided to decompress for a moment. Soft holiday music began to fill the room as the six of you indulged in some much needed catch-up. Feeling the pull of the music, you walk over to Nanami and place your hand out, offering him to dance. He takes it with a smile, letting his hands rest on your waist. Yours found a spot comfortably around his neck. Swaying to the beat of the music, you take note of his cologne. It’s strong but not too overbearing, smelling like spice and wood. It was perfectly Kento.

“You two sure you don’t want to call it a night early? Catch up? Catch up?” Gojo’s eyebrows nearly jump off his face with the velocity he’s raising them up and down. Your brief moment of splendor was interrupted by a rather overjoyed Satoru.

Utahime gives Geto a look of dissatisfaction. “Can’t you put him on a leash or something?” 

“I would say yes, but, knowing him, he’d probably like it.” Geto remorses, rubbing the back of his scolded lover to soothe him.

 “I could always tranquilize him.” Shoko deadpans. Despite her drunken stupor, it wasn’t a half bad idea.

“Cootie shot.” Shoko catches you in the middle of a conversation with Nanami. It takes you a second to register what she’s talking about, but the interruption gives you an idea.

“I mean, I was starting to get thirsty anyways.”

“Me too.” You took his hand and led him to the kitchen, taking note of just how big it was compared to yours. And warm. While your hands were typically frigid, Nanami’s provide solace. 

You settle yourself on the kitchen island, letting your feet dangle off the edge. Nanami plays bartender, grabbing two shot glasses from the cupboard and setting them next to you on the island. “Pick your poison.” You ponder momentarily, but select a tried and true. “Shot of vodka.” He pours the shots and hands you one, placing his glass in the air. Your glass joins his as you toast to being caught, once again, under the mistletoe. “Cheers.” Once the subtle burn of the shot wore off, you took initiative to ask a question that had been plaguing your mind ever since you arrived. “So what made you decide to come tonight? I thought you didn’t do parties.” Nanami’s face turns serious for a moment, retreating from the relaxed demeanor he had come into during the night. “I was told you’d be here.” You’d blame the everpresent blush on your face from the liquor, but it was all too obvious what the real cause was.

“Do you want to go somewhere else? Be able to actually talk away from all…” You motion to the party and its attendees, “-this?” He takes you up on your offer, helping you get down from the counter so you could find a place more secluded. There’s a small guest room at the end of the hall connecting to the living room, near enough to not draw too much attention during your absence. 

Once you shut the door, you join him on the bed. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since you left, and I missed you… and I had no fucking clue what to do about it.” He starts to ramble as you take his hands in yours, hoping to soothe his racing thoughts. You look him in the eyes, let him have your full attention. “What can I do for you now?”

“I want you so fucking badly.” And you can see it in his eyes. Everything about you has him under a trance.

“So show me.”

He held you close, but with care, like you were the most delicate thing to exist. Scared that you’d shatter into a million shiny pieces if he were too rough. And much like the first kiss, this one was soft. You could feel his heart going a million miles per hour when you rested your hands on his chest. He was holding back, scared to ruin what was going so perfectly. You deepen the kiss, moving your hands up to play with his shirt collar. Emboldened by your advances, he hooks his fingers in your belt loops to bring you as close to him as possible. He moves a hand to run through your hair, pulling gently. You give a sigh of approval into his mouth and it drives him wild.

A knock on the door breaks the two of you apart. You mouth a simple “Sorry” as Kento gets up to investigate.

‘Can I get you kids anything? Some water or a snack maybe?” Satoru calls from the other side of the door. Nanami gets up and straightens himself, throwing you an apologetic look. He opens the door and leans on the frame, daring Satoru to comment. But Gojo isn’t stupid, taking note of the new wrinkles on Nanami’s shirt collar and the disheveled state of your hair. He throws Kento a cheeky smile. “Glad to know the two of you are having fun.” Kento rolls his eyes and shuts the door. He pulls you up off the bed and into his embrace, resting his head in the space between your shoulder and neck. He whispers in your ear, soft enough so the man on the other side of the door can’t decipher. “We’d better get back out there. God knows what rumors Satoru will be starting if we stay here any longer.”

The night was winding down, and you all found yourselves gathered around the fire pit on the patio. You sat on one of Nanami’s legs, and settled into him. Nanami wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you anchored to him. HIs other arm rested plush on one of your thighs, kneading the flesh softly. The glow of the fire illuminated your surroundings, and you could just barely make out a single bushel of mistletoe tied up near one of the patio banisters. You nudged Kento, raising your brows as you looked up at the plant of topic. 

Nanami picked up on your cue and gently moved the hand on your thigh up to cup your cheek. 

But something felt different about it this time. Not that the others were unwanted, but there was less pressure with the kiss. An organic expression, something just for the two of you. Sickly sweet, yet everything that dreams were made of.

“Not even prompted this time.” Gojo elbows Geto, drawing his attention to the pair of you. “Guess Operation: Under the Mistletoe worked!” Geto just crosses his arms and smirks, ready to watch the mini-circus about to happen from his revelation.

“Satoru, this-“, Utahime motions at his general Gojo-ness, “is precisely why we don’t let you drink. One shot and you’re done for.”

“I can still tranquilize him.. just saying.” You might just have to take Shoko up on her offer at this point. 

And as Gojo divulges into the inner workings of the ‘operation’, you can’t help but laugh to yourself. It seemed everyone was privy to the fact that you and Kento liked each other except the two people involved. You hope Nanami can see the humor in the situation. But in all honesty, he’s just relieved that you reciprocate feelings.

As the night drew to a close, you prepared yourself to make a quiet exit. Satoru and Suguru were entangled in each other and passed out on the living room couch, and Shoko was helping Utahime nurse a bottle of electrolyte solution in the kitchen.  You found yourself curled up into Nanami on one of the recliners, resting your head against his chest. He played with your hair, occasionally tucking the pieces that would fall in your eyes behind your ear. If you didn’t get up now, you’d probably never leave. You tap Kento’s leg to cue your departure, and he wraps his arms around your waist to pull you back into him. “Stay here?” There was a slight whine in his voice, not wanting to have to give you up yet. But it was nearing dawn, and you were ready to recline in the comfort of your own bed. Let sober thoughts prevail tomorrow. “At least let me walk you home.” You only lived a couple blocks away, but decided to take him up on his offer to escort you home. It was still dark outside after all. 

Shoko sends the two of you off with a simple salute, and motions for you to text her once you get home safely.

Snow coats the street, freshly fallen and devoid of impurities. Your footprints are the first to break the layer of snow. The walk home is quiet for a bit, only accompanied by the sound of snow breaking below your feet. Kento helps keep you steady as you wane off the last bit of a buzz you had worked up during the night. He’s also the first to break the silence. “I had a lot of fun tonight.” His voice is soft, speaking out of earnest. It was nice to see him be so organic with you, the awkwardness at the beginning of the night a mere glimpse of the past. ”Yeah, we should do it again.” You give him a quick smile and squeeze his hand. Gojo had suggested a New Year’s Eve party earlier in the night  (no covert mission involved this time), so there was ample opportunity to get to see him again. Get to be with him. 

The rest of the walk home returned to quiet. He stops in the middle of the sidewalk in front of your place and turns to you, making sure he has your full attention. “I really did miss  you, you know.” The cold winter air only aids in the blush tinting your cheeks and the tint of your ears. You give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, but he holds on to you for a bit. His broad frame engulfs you into his chest, not quite ready to let you go. But all good things must come to an end, and you see him off on your porch.

“I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve, Kento.”

“I’ll be waiting for you.”

Once you got inside your house, you nearly passed out on the couch, drained from the events of the night. You sent Shoko a quick text to let her know you’d made it home safe, and let yourself fall asleep.

a.n.: this was supposed to be out on christmas (oops). also me struggling not to write 'y'all' instead of you/you all- i am born and raised in texas, it's like breaking muscle memory for me ;-; also i needed this OUT of my drafts, could NOT keep looking at it

[hogwartslegacypics]

The Mystery of Ominis Gaunt’s Wand

I was going to make a post analyzing his wand just like I did for Sebastian, but I’m having difficulties because I have no idea which wand is actually his.

The 1st wand it could be is the black one. When you Google search “Ominis Gaunt wand” a black one will show up. It’s so accepted as fact that there are even independent sellers selling the wand and advertising it as Ominis’s wand. But I don’t know if it is because it’s also Rookwood’s wand, which is very strange because no other wand in the game is assigned to two different people (there are some similar ones, but the developers at least changed the colors), and after multiple playthroughs I’ve never seen Ominis with this wand even once. Rookwood however is seen with this wand in cutscenes. Is this wand Rookwood’s alone and somehow has been attributed to Ominis as well?

I’ve followed Ominis around and tried a few quests he’s in to see if he’d get this wand out but he never did. He only carries a dark brown wand around. There’s also only one single cutscene in the entire game (unless I’m missing something) where Ominis has a wand out, and it’s not the black one. It’s not even the dark brown wand he carries around. It’s a light brown one. He does seem to be holding this wand in merch, but Sebastian doesn’t even have his right wand in his merch so I don’t know how much stake we should be putting into it. I feel like the merch might be early renders (like they use for pictures of them in game), and maybe this was gonna be his wand but they changed it to Rookwood’s because they didn’t want to make a new one for him and realized Ominis isn’t even in any cutscenes with his wand (besides that one in Potions class we barely see it in). I have no idea, just speculating.

The second wand it could be is the light brown one I just mentioned that we see him holding in the cutscene. I think this one is the most likely it due to the fact it’s the only time we see him holding a wand in a cutscene. None of the characters carry their actual wands around the castle (I like to call it in “NPC mode”), they carry default wands. Same thing for combat. Characters only have their customized wands during cutscenes, so wouldn’t this one technically be his? Strangely enough though, Ominis does have his own “NPC mode” wand, whereas the other NPCs all have one of two (a black one or a light brown one). I’m guessing this is because Ominis’ walking animation is unique to his NPC. So when they were designing his animations they gave him a different NPC wand, like that specific wand is coded specifically for his “NPC mode” animations.

The third wand it could be is the one I mentioned in the previous paragraph, his “NPC mode” one. I don’t think this is the case though since, even though it’s only used once, he does have a wand assigned to him for cutscenes. If he didn’t have his wand out for any cutscenes though, then he’d be like the other NPCs who either don’t get their wand out in cutscenes or who aren’t in cutscenes at all, because he wouldn’t have an actual personal wand assigned to him, only the default “NPC mode” wand. But anyways even if this was the case, his “NPC mode” wand is still unique to him.

In conclusion, this is a clusterfuck. Ominis has multiple wands? Which wand do I analyze? I know the black one is most popularly accepted as his, but can someone tell me how I can get him to hold it in game? Why is that one so broadly considered his wand if he never even holds it? Am I missing something? Y’all please help me out lmfao

I guess I’ll just base my post off of how I interpret his character in regard to wand information, and not based on the actual wand itself since I don’t know which one to use.

[dinoclawsz]

coloring/rendering tutorial when 🙏🙏🙏

Omg okay…I’ll do my best to explain with an older piece of mine tehee

I always start off by making small thumbnails of a piece just to visualize how I want the composition to look as well as map out lights and darks, so after I finish the sketch I use this thumbnail as reference to make a layer of color beneath the sketch. I like using darker and less saturated colors and I also like referencing baroque paintings for color palettes. Been really interested in the later works of Francisco Goya lately but I digress..this is what the piece looks like after blocking in colors.

For this piece, the colors around the focal point (Nishiki’s face) are brighter and more vibrant while the objects far away are dark and less saturated. It’s rly easy after this part because all that’s left to do is to finish lineart and paint over the sketch ^_^ I ALWAYS color the background first, then when that’s done I make a new layer on top and color the subjects/objects in the foreground. This part is super hard to explain but I build it up by deepening preexisting colors, adding more colorful tones inside of the shadow shapes, and introducing transitionary colors between the light and dark parts. It’s impossible to explain how to render form and shadow because understanding the basics of value/shadow takes a LOT of personal observation and study so I won’t even try here LMFAO. But anyway here’s the piece after the background portion is finished…

And this is what it looks like after ive colored over the sketch completely. I added a lot more definition to the clothes and hair. It’s also important to remember that colors in the background will reflect on the subject (note the blue present in Nishiki’s legs and the dark green present in y0 Nishiki’s arm). Keeping this in mind makes drawings look more real and rich. Only use straight black to shade if the rest of your piece is dark enough to warrant it.

The brushes I use are part of the jingsketch basics brush pack (free to download and super awesome) here https://jingsketch.gumroad.com/l/JingsketchBrushes

I also use these Procreate brushes which can be found under the Painting and Inking categories respectively

I’m an oil and acrylic painter as well so it’s taboo to me to use blending brushes unless absolutely necessary ^_^ using textured brushes to paint will always yield a better product imo. Anyways after this I create a new layer on top of ALL the others for ‘detail’. I like to go in and further define lights and shadows, add more texture to clothes, draw stray hairs, outline lighter sections, etc. I try not to let myself get too attached to my lineart layer and this detail work tends to cover some of it up. I did a lot of scribbling on this piece in particular and this is how it turned out

I hope this is helpful at all I’m rly terrible at explaining my drawing process cuz I don’t fucking know what im doing either LMFOAOA😭😭 pls feel free to comment and ask questions, and if yall want more in-depth ‘tutorials’ about more specific parts of my art process my ask box is always open ^_^

[navegandoaciegas]

Undivided Attention

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x f!reader

Warnings: smut, oral sex (f receiving), dry humping, mommy kink (?), Bucky being an old man and a whiny child at the same time. MINORS DNI

A/N: I’ve been gone for over a month and when I’m back I make Bucky call you mommy lmfao Hope y’all like this.

“Please princess, let me make you feel good, I’ll be so good to you, please,” he whined for the nth time, pleading with you through long lashes.

Puppy face, teary eyes, flushed cheeks: Bucky looked utterly destroyed, and you hadn’t even touched him yet.

You’d barely spared him a glance at all, humming noncommittally at every little mewl that escaped his plush lips, brushing his hands off anytime he’d grope your breasts or squeeze your thighs in nothing more than condescending annoyance.

“Five more minutes and then I’m done, puppy. You be good, hm?,” you hummed, phone tightly clutched in your hands.

You should have never listened to Peter and downloaded TikTok. The act of scrolling through an endless chain of videos was addicting, and as alluring your boyfriend may have been, you were too engrossed in yet another storytime about some crazy ex roommate to give in at his tantrums.

“You’ve been saying this for the past two hours, please,” he whimpered, nuzzling between your tits, “I need you, mommy, please.”

If his cries hadn’t gotten your attention yet, his hard cock poking your thigh definitely did. He buried his face in your chest and started shamelessly humping your leg in a desperate attempt to get himself off.

You tore your eyes away from your phone, ogling him as he rutted against you, panting and crying like a bitch in heat.

“You really are a needy whore, aren’t you?” you snorted, amused by his clinginess.

A twisted part of your mind loved seeing him, your big, strong soldier, all muscle and deadly vibranium arm, morphed into a helpless, sobbing mess.

Only you got to see him like that. His tears, his pleasure, his tenderness, all of it belonged to you.

And whenever he called you mommy, an even more twisted part of you reared its head, sending warmth between your legs and a fuzzy feeling to your stomach.

“Look at you, such a dumb baby. You’re like a damn dog, getting yourself off on my leg, hm?” you teased him, carding your fingers through his locks, tenderly scratching his scalp.

He purred like a kitten, and moved his hands to lift your t-shirt over your chest, warm fingers grazing your stomach, settling on the underside of your breasts.

Your phone and TikTok were all but forgotten.

Shivers ran down your spine, goosebumps erupting all over your body while he traced your skin from your neck to your tits, lighting up a fire inside you. He latched his lips onto one of your stiff nipples, swirling his tongue around the bud, gently sucking it into his mouth, careful not to hurt you.

Pressure was steadily building inside your core, walls clamping down on nothing as he suckled your tits and ground his achingly hard cock on you.

“Fuck,” you moaned, arching your back, pushing yourself further into him, “You like sucking on mommy’s tits, baby? Like rubbing yourself all over her?”

He released your nipple with a wet pop, shooting you a toothy grin.

You chuckled, adjusting two pillows under your back to give you a better visual of him going down on you. “Go ‘head then, you have my undivided attention now. Make it worth my time.”

Bucky didn’t need anymore encouragement, hastily shoving your panties down your legs and throwing one limb over his shoulders. He whined then, hips bucking at the sight of your dripping pussy.

Your heartbeat was getting more frenzied, and your breathing heavier, as you watched the crystal blue of his eyes be swallowed by the black of his pupils.

Broken curses and breathy chants of Bucky’s name fell from your parted lips as he buried his face between your legs, lapping at your juices, swirling around your folds, making a drooling, wet mess of his face.

You tugged his hair, angling his head and fucking youself on him.

“Right there baby, fuck-, good boy,” you moaned when he latched onto your clit, sucking on it, rendering you a quivering mess.

He hummed, enjoying your tangy taste on his tongue. Your foot dug in his back, your nails in his scalp, as you spurred him on, squeezing his head between your thighs in a suffocating grip.

“You’re doing so well, baby, look at you, so pretty like this, making mommy feel so good,” you panted.

He preened at the praise, and doubled his efforts to impress you, tugging harder on your throbbing clit.

His teary eyes fixed on yours, and the look of him so debauched, red faced and coated in sweat, drool and your own juices was enough to send you spiralling over the edge, jolts of pleasure shaking through your limbs as you rode out your high on him.

You took a few deep breaths, blankly staring at the ceiling before Bucky, shy and breathless all of a sudden, with half his face drenched in webs of your come, froze like a deer caught in the headlights and slapped a hand over his mouth.

Something wet and warm rubbed against your shin, and you looked down to see a large dark patch on his boxers.

Your burst in a wheezy laugh then, despite Bucky’s cute disgruntled pout.

“You really are a bit of a dog baby boy, look at you making a mess on mommy’s leg, I didn’t even need to touch and you came all over me,” you giggled, poking his stubbled cheeks.

He plopped down beside you, groaning in embarrassment, murmuring a soft ‘sorry’ while avoiding your eyes.

“It’s okay, it happens,” you reassured him, pecking his sticky forehead, “But we’re kinda gross right now.”

When you sat up to leave, he snaked an arm around your waist, stopping your movements. “Where you goin’? Stay with me,” he whined like a petulant child.

“Gotta get us both cleaned up, baby boy,” you huffed, prying his hands off you, “and then we can cuddle, okay?”

You tried sounding convincing, and he was swayed easily enough with the promise of snuggling up to you all night. You returned soon, a wet rag on one hand and some fresh boxers on the other.

Once you were both clean and in new underwear, you climbed on the bed, drew back the blankets and settled on the pillows.

Bucky rested his head on the crook of your neck and intertwined his warm legs with your cold ones. His flesh arm was heavy over your chest while he played with your breasts under your t- shirt, but you let him stay, a pang of guilt hitting you when you realized you’d been neglecting him all day.

“No more TikToks or whatever,” you heard him grumble, voice sleepy and eyelids heavy.

“No more TikToks, sure, baby grandpa,” you snickered, caressing the side of his face, feeling yourself drift off to sleep in his embrace.

-

Please leave some feedback if you can! I love reading your comments ❤️

[soulwillower]

hot sugar • richie tozier

(richie tozier x reader smut)

[the title is taken from the song by glass animals but has nothing to do with the fic LOL]

request: okay so i just saw ur requests are open again and well ive has this idea for a while (dont even ask me why😳) but uh imagine being Richie’s girl and u go watch him playing street fighter and u get turned cause man those hands (😳) and he just v aggressive and HOT so u basically start teasing him until our poor boy snaps and then cue the rough smut??? LMFAO i know its wAck so UH FORGIVE ME MY SIMP ASS AINSLEE🤧🤧- 🧩

warnings: swearing, smut, public smut, unprotected sex, degradation, dirty talk, use of the word slut, bit of choking, praise kink, uhhh hair pulling, the works! super unedited, i will go back in and edit soon i promise

(losers + reader are in 18+ in this.)

3.6k words

♡

the arcade was a place that, growing up, was almost like a safe haven.

being who you are, you grew up being tormented by bowers and his dangerous friends constantly, always looking over your shoulder for that shiny red car or walking home in groups. but now, you and your friends are much older and less afraid of useless middle school bullies.

awkward limbs grew and filled out, teeth straightened and voices dropped. your friends all became incredibly hot. you did, too. and then you and richie started dating - things changed. 

one thing that stuck in the five years since you were thirteen was the arcade, though.

richie's leaned casually over the street fighter machine, almost towering over it at his height, his hair tousled from his fingers running through it. the fluorescent lights from the game reflect onto his skin, casting shadows from his sharp jaw and cheekbones, his bottom lip caught in between his pristine teeth. you resist a groan as you walk closer, eyes falling to his face where he's concentrated on the screen in front of him.

"fuck." he hisses as he messes up, throwing his head back and exposing the pale expanse of his throat, a sight that has you clenching your thighs as you mumble with a dry throat, "hi, rich."

he looks at you for a second, flashing his signature smile as he pecks you quickly on the cheek. "hey, sugar." he says, "sorry, i'm just about to beat this high score." he says, eyes immediately focusing back on the game. you roll your eyes, "isn't the high score already yours?" you ask.

he's too enthralled with the video game to respond. you almost leave, but your eyes flick down to his hands and you nearly pass out as you see his fingers moving over the buttons, maneuvering the joystick in a way that makes his veins pop out of his arms and hands.

you clear your throat, eyes glued to his hands, imagining them on your skin. they're so large, it always shocks you when he's got his hands on you how much of your body they cover in one grip. fe flicks his fingers and you resist the urge to moan out loud, imagining the way his fingers would feel on your thighs, your stomach, your face, wrapped around your throat, or buried deep inside you....

god, those hands. 

you shake your head a bit, face turning red. with a quick glance around, you see that the arcade is nearly empty, so you use the opportunity to lean up and pepper kisses along the junction of his shoulder and neck. he hums slightly and you can hear the grin in his voice. "baby, i'm busy." he says not unkindly, leaning into your touch despite being enamored with the game in front of him.

you pout, falling back to the balls of your feet as you stare up at him with wide eyes. he looks like fucking heaven right now with his mouth slightly open, a concentrated look on his face as he's lit up in blue and red hues by the bright neon of the arcade.

his hands fly around, catching in the light and making you tense, heat pooling between your legs as you think about his fingers on you. the lust is overwhelming as you stand next to him, desperately trying to keep your eyes on the video game screen and not on his hands - but you can't, and you decide to tease him a bit.

your eyes catch the boy who's working the front counter, sam, and you grin a bit, silently leaving richie's side and stalking over to the counter. the boy greets you with a smile and you ask him for a cherry coke, making sure you're leaning against the counter enough so that richie's eyes which are burning holes into your back move down your body and stare at your ass, where it's nearly on full display under your skirt. 

you turn your head over your shoulder for a quick peek and get immediate shivers when richie's eyes meet yours from directly across the way - the arcade game positioned so that barely a turn of the jaw allows him full view of your backside. and your lace panties.

when sam returns with your coke, you smile at him and take a sip, making sure you wiggle your hips teasingly in case richie's piercing gaze is still on you.

sam's cheek turn lightly pink, and so you wink at him and turn and leave, tossing a few coins into the tip jar. 

you know it's a cheap shot, but you pretend to fumble with a coin and drop it on the way back, bending over and picking it up, staying longer than necessary so richie knows that sam could see it.

 when you straighten up again you barely look over to sam, but his eyes are wide and cheeks red as he looks away, wiping the bar with a rag. you smirk as you look back to richie.

he's always too easy to rile up.

he's glaring at you like nothing else, his eyes piercing and jaw set tightly. "rich, i'm going to go wait at the car." you call, your lips wrapping around  your straw and hollowing your cheeks as you take a sip. his jaw sets again and he glares at you, so you wink and turn around, proud of yourself.

you don't hear the noise of the richie's character in street fighter losing, and you barely hear the footsteps until they catch right up to you.

and then richie pushes you up against the wall of the hallway, only maybe fifteen feet around the corner from the arcade bar, and kisses you hotly on the mouth. heat instantly pools in your panties and you whimper into his mouth. his hands hold you possessively as he pulls back and you gasp for air.

"you're a fucking tease." he snaps, eyes dark. your own eyes widen in shock from his snap. his lips press to your neck and he sucks lightly, his hips pressing against you and causing you to gasp again.

"such a needly slut, hmm?" he purrs in your ear, biting on the lobe as his fingers slide up your bare thighs and rub your slit over your lace panties, making you whimper quietly. "couldn't even wait for me to be done with my game." he mutters, fingers pulling aside your panties and plunging immediately into you, making you grip his shoulders and bite back a loud moan.

 "richie." you whimper quietly, eyes shooting to the left, down the hall where sam works, clueless that you're pressed against the wall with richie's hand up your skirt.

he's pumping his fingers in a way that has your legs completely shaking, your grip on his shoulders and his hand pinning your hip to the wall being the only things preventing you from crumbling to the floor. he hooks his fingers slightly, pressing against your g spot as you bite back the need to wail in pleasure.

you look then towards the exit, only twenty-six feet away, and shiver when you think anybody could walk right in. 

your eyes meet his and his smirk is cockier than ever, an eyebrow raised as he watches you and tuts. "are you afraid someone's gonna see?" he says lowly, his fingers hitting a spot inside you that already has your stomach curling as the oncoming of an orgasm makes you whimper as quietly as you can. 

he tilts his head, a devilish smirk on his face. "or would you like that? you want sam to see how much of a slut you are for my fingers?”

all you can do is moan dejectedly, the pleasure rendering you unable to form cohesive words. richie continues, “what d’you think, should i just fuck you right here? spread those pretty legs and show everyone how much you want me?” his words make you moan, “bet you'd like that, huh?”"

you buck your hips, cheeks bright red as your eyes clench shut, feeling yourself nearing your peak. richie laughs lightly, "d'you want him to see how desperate you are for it? how well you i stretch you out, like you were made just for my cock?"

your eyes are rolled back slightly, legs shaking as your fingers grip onto his arms so hard you're sure there will be half-moon crescent shapes there for days after.

he hums again as you buck your hips, "are you close, baby?" he asks, his fingers fucking you into the wall. you nod weakly, eyes shut in pure bliss. 

"yeah?” he asks softly, and you nod. "say it, y/n/n." he orders, sending chills down your spine.

you open your eyes and meet his, loving and full of lust. you moan quietly, "richie, m'gonna cum." you say weakly, whimpers escaping your lips. 

"yeah? right now?" he asks again, and you feel yourself about to cum.

he presses his thumb to your neglected clit and holds it there as he thrusts and you clench your legs slightly at the pleasure coursing through you, your toes curling.

and then, just as you almost hit your high, he pulls out of you with a smirk.

you gasp loudly at the feeling and then you're left with the feeling of nothing, the feeling of tease lingering in your head as you stare at him.

his smirk is wide.

"go to the car." he purrs it out and you're weak in the knees, staring at him with wide eyes. your chest is heaving, eyes wide as you stare at him in disbelief. you whimper as you feel your crest fading, the absence of his hand from under your skirt making you almost pout.

"but-" you start, but he gives you a look that immediately shuts your mouth. you wordlessly turn and leave towards his car in the lot, carrying yourself on shaky legs, sensitive and desperately horny.

the ride home is absolute torture.

richie's got his jaw set tightly, but one glance down to his bulge tells you that he's just as desperate to get home as you are. his hand rests on your bare thigh.

you stare down at it, thinking about how seconds his fingers were buried deep inside you, and now they grip your thigh lightly, the veins in his hand smoothing all the way up his forearm.

you squirm slightly, restlessly - you don't dare do anything more, though.

and then, about two minutes from richie's house, his hand moves. it slides up until your skirt is lifted and his fingers find purchase on the lace covering your clit, making your breath catch in your throat. gently, so lightly, his finger rubs in a circle, and you let out a loud moan as you let your head fall back onto the headrest. "richie, please." your beg sounds broken and you turn red at the desperation in your voice.

he just smirks, his dimple popping out as he takes the turn to his street, finger pressure enough to make your stomach coil with need, but not enough to be satisfying.

and then you're getting out of his parked car, following him with a pounding heart as you watch his broad shoulders move under his dark shirt as he opens the front door. "there better not be anybody home." he says, back still turned to you. you follow him as he toes off his shoes and you mumble, "what?" to make sure you heard him clearly.

you're suddenly face to face with richie, "i said i hope there's nobody home, because i'm going to fuck you right here so hard you scream."

your stomach drops and your eyes widen in shock, butterflies filling you as his lips smash against yours abruptly. you exhale and let out a breathy whine into his own mouth, his hands grabbing your hips to steady you as you stumble back towards the stairs.

his tongue swirls around yours, hands dropping to palm your ass and making you squeak as he pinches you with one hand.

"such a fuckin' tease." he growls, tongue sliding along your lip as he nudges you, making you fall a bit towards the staircase, richie finding purchase between your legs and immediately grinding down on you. the feeling makes you moan loudly, the high walls of the entry room making your voice carry through the house. "richie, please fuck me. please." you beg, fingers tugging on his neck, pressing your lips desperately to his.

he's rutting his hips against yours, his hard cock pressing against your heat and making you pant with need as you tug his curly strands. his hands then move as he kneels on the steps, undoing his pants and pulling himself out of his boxers, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen.

you groan as you watch his hands pump himself and you whimper slightly as you buck your hips, desperate for him.

and then his hand is grabbing your face, thumb holding your chin as he turns your head to look right at him. "you better do exactly what i say, princess." he says, looking into your eyes. you nod, his thumb grip stern as he lines up at your entrance.

"yes, richie, yes. wan' it so bad, please." you mutter, making him smirk. "good girl." he says, cutting whatever you were going to add off as he pushes into you fully.

the sudden stretch fills you to the brim and you let out a guttural noise at the feeling. your back rubs uncomfortably against the carpet of the stairs as he pushes into you, but your hands grip his shoulders and all you can think about is richie.

"fuck, rich." you mumble, moaning his name as he starts thrusting, building his pace until he's snapping his hips into yours.

“good girl, begging for me.” his hands grip your thighs, holding them open as your eyes roll back slightly, “look at you, all wrecked on my cock like a good slut.” he pounds you into the stairs, lips then falling to suck large marks on your neck, the stinging pleasure adding to the volume of your moans.

his hands rise to lift your shirt up over your chest, sliding up to quickly undo your bra and whipping it off, his hips still snapping in an unforgiving pace. you feel him so deep inside of you that tears prick at your eyes, the pleasure building instantly. he tosses your bra to the floor and then his lips are attached to your nipple, tongue flicking the sensitive bud and then his teeth slightly grazing it.

you keen loudly, back arching as you yelp his name. he pulls back to look at you, hand tugging on your hair so you look at him as he pounds into you. "look at you, such a brat teasing me at the arcade.” his voice is deep and rough, "look at you now, drunk on my cock. you just needed to remember who's you are, huh?" he coos, pressing a kiss to your temple as a tear escapes your eye, the feeling overwhelming as your orgasm creeps up for the third time.

your fingers dive under his shirt and scratch down his bare back, making him hiss and hum slightly, gripping your hips and lifting you slightly.

the new angle has you really screaming, his cock pressing deep inside you from the brutal snap of his hips forcing you back against the stairs.

you feel exposed with your shirt pulled up, tits bouncing with his thrusts as your skirt is pushed up and he fucks you senseless out in the open.

"such a little slut, all for me... so fuckin' pretty, baby." he's muttering. and he kisses you like he's claiming you, his teeth clashing slightly with yours and his tongue dominating. you're weak, legs shaking as he pounds into you.

you moan, your stomach clenching in ecstasy as you moan out his name, coming closer with each harsh thrust, “richie, fuck, im-”

“-you gonna cum on my cock like the good slut you are?" he mutters, hand rising to grip your throat lightly. you whimper, face red from the pleasure added from the light squeezing of his hand. "you look so pretty like this, princess." he says, eyes admiring the smudged makeup of your eyes, the blissed, fucked-out look on your face. your neck is littered in blossoming hickes, varying from pink to dark red and slightly purple already. "you can be so good sometimes, just have to fuck you senseless first, huh?" he asks, smirking. his lips curl in a way that has you clenching hard around his cock, his dimples and inquiring eyes making you moan.

"i want you to cum for me, honey." he mutters against your neck, pressing kisses to it as he rubs your clit again, your legs instantly shaking as you cry out.

your climax hits you hard and you're moaning and arching your back as he holds you against him.

he doesnt stop moving after you cum, but just keeps thrusting harder. his hands come to play with your tits, roughly palming them as he fucks you harder into the stairs. as he continues to slam his hips against yours, he hums, "isn't this what you wanted, baby?" he asks as he thumbs away another tear.

"you wanna get fucked until you can't thing, huh?" he mutters, lifting your hips again and hitting deep inside of you, making you cry out as you clench and spasm around him. you can only whimper as one of his hands falls to grip your thigh and slides up to your ass, slapping it harshly and making you moan loud.

you're bucking your hips up with his, desperately chasing a growing second orgasm despite the sensitivity of your first one. he chuckles against your neck, "and you're still begging for it. such a slut for me. who's pussy is this?"

he's filling you so well and you let out a half-sob, half moan. "that's not a name, baby." he says, voice cocky as he rams into you. you look at him, biting your lip. "yours, richie - fuck, oh my god." you moan, and he's satisfied with that answer because he hums and rubs your clit again.

"you gonna cum for me again like a good girl?" he hums in your ear, lips brushing your ear lobe and making you nod, holding him close as your second orgasm hits you harder, pulsing around his cock.

"fucking tease." he groans as he grips your hips and slams into you, milking you through your orgasm as he hits his own.

you mutter, “please cum richie, need it so bad, please.” as you look at him desperately, and his eyes fall shut in bliss, a deep groan leaving his lips as he thrusts one last time into you, stilling as he cums. you're warm and sensitive as he slowly rocks his hips, beautiful moans falling from his cherry colored lips as he spills inside of you, "fuck, baby. took me so good, fuck."

you look up at him with wide eyes as he kisses your cheeks and then your nose, wiping away a few stray tears and then softly meeting your lips. he pulls out gently, sliding your panties up as you feel his cum spill over your entrance. “god, you were so perfect for me, sugar.” he mutters as he collapses next to you, combing your hair and pulling you towards him.

he kisses you softly.

your mind is still fuzzy, tears drying on your hairline as richie trails his fingers lightly over your skin and places loving kisses to your face, but you are fairly certain you hear the sound of richie's garage door.

immediately you both jolt up, eyes wide as you look at each other, hair mussed up and lips kiss-bruised. but richie just fucked you so hard that you're not even sure you can walk; one glance over says richie's having the same thought.

you don't even have time to push down your skirt or shirt as his parents enter the house, and then richie's lifting you from the stairs, stumbling over himself to make it up to his bedroom while the sound of his family echoes into the entrance room. your heart is pounding.

"richie!?" you hear his mom call just as he sets you on his bed, and he looks at you with alarmed eyes. you look back, flustered but confused - why does he look like he's seen a ghost?

"what's wrong, rich?" you ask, hand falling onto his arm. his eyes are wide, cheeks slightly pink.

"y/n, your bra." he mutters, making your heart stop, remembering as he'd ripped it from you and tossed it just next to the staircase. your face turns bright red and richie huffs a half-laugh.

"fuck."

tag list: @gabiatthedisco @blisshemmings @stenbrozier @simplesammyx   @sft-core @clownsloveyou @moon-shine-baby @daughter-of-the-stars11 @trashedfortozier @oceandog13 @finnskindofwoman  @kait16xo @upamongthestarss @fiantomartell @beverlyparkerr @beauregard-s @diorbubs @leighjaenikhowell @cowbellies @deepestofwaters

[hmstckoriginal]

==> Maid: Contact the Rogue.

[Show Pesterlog]

temporaryPlausible [TP] began pestering lossofMandatory [LM].

TP: Hello. LM: Oh, it’s the Tery copy kid. TP: Actually, Tery is an ectobiological copy of me, but whatever floats your boat. TP: I’ve been meaning to ask you for the longest of time about a certain…idea. LM: Why me? TP: Space is your “turf” right? LM: Hell yeah it fucking is. Ain’t no one better with space than me. LM: Well, maybe Dilyon is but I’ll let that pass. <3 TP: You do realize you don’t have to put on this big girl act around me, right? LM: Huh? TP: I understand that you have a rivalry going on with Tery. TP: But just because we are, technically, related does not make me your rival. LM: … LM: How’d you know? TP: It’s quite obvious from your talk about each other. But I suggest you talk about your… differences… and solve them. It’s key to your success. LM: How come? I think it’s pretty neat the way it is. TP: You mean by your party being split in two halves? TP: Or as your own patron troll put, “two caliginous halves”? LM: We’re functioning just fine. TP: And my “turf” is space. LM: Ugh. LM: Okay, just ask what you need and I’ll see if it can be done… TP: Okay. However, I’m gonna warn you right now… TP: I’m going to spill a lot of facts all at once for you to comprehend the situation we’re in. You already understood the fact that we came before you and that we are all related on a much greater level than blood, correct? LM: Yeah, kind of got the hang of that. TP: The thing that you do not know is the time frame of coming before you. LM: Well, it’s like, what, a few hours back? TP: That is what I was afraid of. TP: Your entire party has come to the conclusion that we simultaneously in the game, at this precise moment in the eternity of space. While time is definitely not my specialty nor is it yours, we can still take it to our level of coherency and say that this precise moment is stretched through the continuum of existence, right? LM: Yeah…? Like, in the year that I’m in now. That’s your year too, isn’t it? TP: Not at all. TP: We’re contacting you from the distant past. TP: However time doesn’t exactly work like that in The Incipisphere. It will not take into account your date of time when you’ve entered, and it most certainly will not continue flowing in that way. There is not way of telling in what moment of time you’re living, the only thing you may know is how many “hours” or “days” it might have passed since your arrival in the game. TP: The game occupies its own space, its own time. A realm of its own. Do you understand? LM: Well…Let’s say that I do. TP: Good. TP: In the moments that I’ve launched the game and entered my Medium, or really in any moment of my whole life, you’ve never existed. And you still do not exist in my plane of existence. Not yet, at least. TP: Again, a loose term since there cannot be “my plane of existence”. But it’s just figurative, I suppose. LM: Wait, so… LM: Basically you’re talking…and I’m talking to someone who never existed in…like… my universe in the first place? TP: Yes. LM: Oh, wow… LM: How did I begin existing then? TP: Through my party activating the scratch. TP: Whoops, sorry. TP: The Scratch. LM: Okay, so more terminology of this fucked up space we’re in. TP: Yes. TP: The Scratch is activated only under specific conditions. If the game any set of players is rendered impossible to beat, there is still hope by activating this. It creates a new reality in which “our” party will be successful in beating the game. TP: However, it won’t be our party and it will never be us. TP: Upon activating The Scratch, we’re erasing any evidence of our existence, of our planet, of our universe from the plane of existence(now correctly used). Instead of us, there will be new individuals loosely related that will inevitably play the game. TP: And win. LM: So I’m like your descendant or something like that? And this game is like an heirloom? TP: Sure, let’s put it that way. LM: Okay but I still don’t understand what you wanted to ask me. TP: Well, we’re going to avoid The Scratch. LM: That’s possible to do? LM: I thought it was like absolutely inevitable, like, no loopholes or anything. TP: Yes, we thought so too but began hatching a plan. We’ve talked to our Denizens in hope of answers but were only greeted with a request. However, the phrasing of the request on its own gave us immense hope. TP: Because of that, we’ve been preparing heavily but, alas, we’ve come to a bump in the road. The request of the Denizens being it. LM: What was it? TP: “When you avoid the scratch, you must take us with you.” LM: Oh. LM: They want to save their asses too, lmfao! TP: Any creature would like to save their asses from absolute wipe out. :) LM: ‘Tis true. LM: What was the plan? TP: We would first all ascend to God Hood. Then, we’d try to set things straight on our Medium, finish the quest and whatnot in order to fully realize our powers. Third, we’d start contacting you to…prevent some things. LM: Like what? TP: Mostly, doomed timelines. TP: We wanted to check if we were in doomed timelines by doing all that we’ve done. The logic behind it is that if our own hatchlings were doomed, then so were we. It’s bizarre that a single decision could end in doom for us all. LM: I don’t see the logic in that. TP: And you’re not a Light player. :) LM: Alright, I’ll trust you on that. LM: So, I’m gonna guess this is where the question comes in place. I’m guessing… LM: Since you don’t have any space manipulation players, or Space players in general, you can’t just magically take the big snakes with you, right? TP: Yes! TP: This was a long shot from our side, to be honest. We’ve tried taking everything in consideration, of how our realities don’t overlap with each other, how we don’t even exist in your space for you to be able to do such a thing… TP: But we stopped theorizing and just decided to ask the actual Space player. Since… LM: Space is my turf. TP: Yes. TP: Do you think you could help us? LM: Well. LM: It never hurts to try. Technically, it once existed and overall still continues to exist, without looking at the time frame. I’m a Rogue of Space, meaning that I can take that space as long as I know what it serves and what it is, or once was. Kind of like how an appearifier works like, if you’ve ever encountered those! TP: How do you suppose you got those sick gloves, hmm? LM: NO WAY. TP: Lol. LM: Oh my god! Okay, okay, now I know what to talk about next but I don’t want to get sidetracked here. TP: Wise choice. LM: The only problem is that… I don’t know if I’ll rip the right space. TP: What? LM: Space and Time heavily rely on each other. They’re two completely opposite concepts but wouldn’t exist without one another. I don’t know if the space I’ll rip will be from my time frame or from any else. It could be possibly that I rip absolutely nothing considering it doesn’t exist right now, OR that I rip it right before The Scratch completely destroys them. LM: And I don’t think that I’ll be able to rip only the Denizens, so I’ll have to take your planets as a whole. TP: That would be the most wanted out come actually. TP: This is fascinating, I must admit… I never imagined that it could be this complicated. Of course, I knew it was moderately hard but…this… It’s making me feel quite excited. LM: Lol nerd! TP: Hey, I’m a Light player. :p LM: That’s just your excuse. TP: Actually, my very own curiosity and knowledge thirst was the thing that appointed me that specific aspect. Therefore, I’d say that it isn’t my excuse but it is what I’ve made of myself. LM: Oh, now that I do think about it, our aspects and our classes are heavily tied with what we are at the core, right? TP: Absolutely. Although, sometimes, the game can be quite cruel and appoint the quite opposite or a heavy challenge to an individual. TP: It all depends, really. LM: Oh and I thought you had all the answers. TP: I’m not a Mage or a Seer of my aspect. :p TP: I mostly utilize my aspect in combat, actually. Or through the strategical part of any operation. LM: I see… Eh, not like I’d fully understand even if you relayed it all to me. TP: Well, I could. That’s what I could do. Put an idea in your mind, or any knowledge or way to do something. Although, I’m not sure I could put in my mastery of it… Hmm… LM: Not like I want it, no offence. TP: None taken, haha. LM: Anyways, when do you want me to try my space thing on your session? TP: Hmm… The appropriate moment would be… TP: When I give you “THE SIGNAL”. :) LM: What’s the signal? TP: You’ll see. TP: I have to go run some errands now. Hope to hear from you if you need anything. LM: Yeah, sure. Good luck with your errands, Gina. TP: Oh, you actually called me by my own name instead of a copy of Tery! LM: Mhmm. LM: I guess I grew fond of you, heh. TP: Likewise, Vicy. TP: Good luck with your own session.

temporaryPlausible [TP] stopped pestering lossofMandatory [LM].

[youngbloodseavey]

kink // jack avery

request: my beautiful gc wanted this to happen so blame them

i decided to post this for my 500 followers present to you guys (i was gonna keep this in my drafts for a long ass time lmao this was never supposed to see the light of day), but genuinely idk what this is so pls don’t judge me thank but enjoy!?

HERE Y’ALL GO THANKS SO MUCH FOR 500 I LOVE YOU PLEASE DON’T HATE ME FOR THIS

triggers: i got no fuckin idea at this point it’s just kinda sinful

tags: @boomboomboomwayhoo @jonahgarl @5sosmusic1d @thatssoherron

||

y/n hummed as she casually scrolled through her twitter timeline, mindlessly liking and retweeting tweets. then, she came across a video.

a compilation of her boyfriend, the one and only jack avery, saying “daddy”. she laughed and tapped on the video, watching a nearly two minute long video of jack saying “daddy”.

she laughed at the video, before scrolling down and looking at the replies.

“jack definitely has a daddy kink”

“jack is such a daddy”

“dADDY KINKKKKK”

“jack has the biggest daddy kink ever lmfao”

jack has a daddy kink? y/n thought slyly as an idea came to her mind. hm, might as well do a little experiment to see if it’s true…

she turned off her phone, setting it on the coffee table then walked over to the bedroom, where jack was currently residing. he was sitting on the bed scrolling through whatever on his phone when y/n approached him with a devilish smile on her face.

“hey babe,” he smiled, looking up at his fast approaching girlfriend. “what are you up to?” he questioned, setting his phone to the side when he saw the expression on her face.

“oh nothing,” she replied airly, before boldly straddling his lap.

“babe,” he asked, his cheeks already reddening. “what are you doing,”

“i was on twitter earlier,” she replied, snaking her arms around his shoulders. “and i saw some interesting tweets,” her tone was coy, which confused the hell out of jack. but the confused expression on her boyfriend’s face didn’t deter y/n at all as she attached their lips, kissing him slowly.

“what kind of tweets did you see babe?” he inquired breathlessly, settling his hands onto her hips as he pulled away from the heated kiss.

“well, i found out some things i didn’t know before,” her voice trailed off.

“what did you find out?”

“i found out some things about you, daddy.” she whispered the last phrase, causing jack to immediately jump away and turn bright red.

“w-what? i-i don’t have a daddy kink,” his words came out jumbled, his widened eyes looking anywhere but hers.

“judging by the way you’re acting, i beg to differ,” she trailed off, beginning to press kisses on his jawline. “but if you don’t, prove it to me daddy,” he bit his lip, but still protested against it.

“i don’t have a daddy kink babe,” he stuttered out, but y/n was determined to break him.

“but i want you daddy, really badly,” she pouted, giving jack the most innocent eyes she could muster as she bit her lip. jack has an intense internal battle with himself, but his flustered self already gave away too much.

“fuck it,” he mumbled to himself before flipping them over so he was hovering over y/n, taking her completely by surprise. “do you think it’s fun to tease daddy like that baby girl?”

he began kissing down her neck, sucking once he reached her sweet spot. she whimpered, digging her nails into jack’s shoulders at the sensation.

“n-no daddy,” she managed to choke out. jack’s lips made their way down her neck, trailing down her collarbones. once he reached the collar of her shirt he pulled away, leaving y/n confused and breathless.

“strip princess,” he growled, allowing y/n to quickly take off her shirt and jeans. the moment her jeans hit the floor she was swept back into the bed, jack’s lips attaching themselves to the curve of her breasts.

“good job princess, now it’s time to teach you a lesson, never tease daddy.” he unclasped her bra with one hand, letting it fall as he got a full view of her chest. “damn baby girl, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, kissing down the valley of her breasts and stomach.

she squirmed around, weaving her fingers through his curly locks. she tugged on the strands, desperate for some relief for the ache between her legs. but her movement was stopped as jack took a hand and pinned her down, rendering her body motionless. she whined at the fact she couldn’t move around, but she was immediately shushed.

“nu-uh princess, you have to be patient,” he tutted, hooking his fingers around waistband of her panties. he dragged the fabric down her legs, before throwing them somewhere in the room.

then they fucked and boy did they have a grand ol’ time in conclusion jack bobby avery is a kinky lil bitch whoop whoop k bye

[vizhi0n]

Sawney - Part 2

Ehhh I is back. Sorry for such a late upload - it’s finals week for this quarter and I’ve been dyin, as well as swamped with other shit. But alas, here it is!

Part 1

Tagging le homies. (If you want to be tagged or untagged, let me know)

@i-am-negan-trash @lucifers-trash-stash @jasoncrouse @kellyn1604 @crzcorgi @superprincesspea @negans-network @ladylorelitanyfanfiction @genevievedarcygranger @kijilnn @backseat-negan @heartfulloffandoms @strangersangel9 @heartfulloffandoms @manawhaat @mypapawinchester @lovingzombiechaos @my-achilles-heel @gremlinfuck @wolfhart18 @rickydillion @simons-thirst-squad @embracetheapocalypsewithme @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash

Warnings: Negan’s potty mouth. Next chapter is when we get to explore my fucked up mind lmfao

Do it. It’s what Mother and Father instructed you to do. You sacrifice for the greater good of the group — your life isn’t any better than the common man’s. Everyone dies, eventually.

Desa had no weapon. The only real option was to do something rash so that Negan or his henchmen Simon would be forced to kill her.

When all else failed, you were to choose death. Those were Mother and Father’s words, their rules. But Desa couldn’t bring herself to obey them. Not while she was under Negan’s cold, scrutinizing gaze. It was as if he’d seen right through her from the start. The entire time they loaded up the trucks, Negan kept an eye on her, even when they began driving. Simon was in the front seat, hands on the steering wheel, while Negan had insisted that he sit next to Desa. She hadn’t objected — it wouldn’t have mattered, anyway. She didn’t like Negan being so close to her. She didn’t like anybody being so close to her.

“You said some rich asshole owned the house before?” Negan, his baseball bat resting in his lap, grinned. “Is there a pool? Maybe a jacuzzi or some shit like that?”

“Yes, but it’s empty.”

Negan huffed, looking disappointed but not surprised. He ran a gloved finger over the handle of the bat, murmuring, “Lucille doesn’t fucking like water, anyway.” 

Desa winced, eyes flickering towards the baseball bat. The way Negan was stroking it, staring down at the object almost lovingly, sent very, very odd vibes coursing throughout her entire body.

“You named that thing?”

“Fuck yeah I did. Lucille. Sorry for not properly introducing her to you earlier,” Negan winked. “She’s beautiful, isn’t she?”

“…I guess.”

“I’ll take that as a yes. You’re awfully fucking shy, girl,” Negan clapped his hands together, and Desa jumped in alarm. “Loosen the fuck up! You’re still alive, aren’t you? That’s always something to smile about.”

“You’re optimistic.”

“I have to fucking be. Can’t be moping around all depressed and shit.” Negan replied. “It doesn’t fly. Not at fucking all.”

The car slowed, and Desa lifted her head. She saw Simon turned and smile back at her, pointing with his free hand at the massive, multi-million dollar mansion before them.

“I’m guessing this is it?”

Negan gave a whistle of appraisal. “Holy shit.”

The caravan came to a full stop. Desa couldn’t help the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, though it wasn’t caused by fear. It was caused by realization. The courtyard was empty, and she saw none of the guards. Mother and Father were typically out lounging in the sun, enjoying the fresh air.

Negan strolled right up to the wrought iron gate surrounding the perimeter of the mansion. About a dozen saviors stood, all armed and prepared to fire at a moments notice. Simon kept a firm grip on Desa, nails digging into her skin.

Negan wrapped a hand around the reinforced gate and shook it. The gate rattled, but did not budge. The noise was loud enough that someone had to have heard it.

Desa kept her head down. She didn’t want to give anything away. Not when the situation was so dire.

“Nobody’s home?” Negan glanced back at Desa, then at Simon. “Shit. Guess we should have fucking called first. You sure this is the right place?”

“It is,” Desa answered.

“You know what happens if you fucking lie to me?” Negan pointed his bat — Lucille — at Desa, letting it linger. “There are — were — a lot of rich assholes before the world went to shit. This could be anyones place.”

“Those fences are reinforced to keep the biters out. The grass is cut. Hell, there’s a garden growing,” Desa mumbled. “This is it.”

“Then where the fuck, pray tell, is everyone?”

“I don’t know.”

Negan rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. Desa could see him contemplating what to do — she was amazed he hadn’t just gone ahead and slaughtered her. His men were on a hair trigger, ready to fire. Shuffling from the woods caught everyones attention, most expecting it to be the residents of the Estate emerging from hiding.

It wasn’t.

“Take care of those,” Negan gestured to Simon and a few others. The biters shuffled from the underbrush, teeth snapping, gnawing on air. Simon went to make a movie but stopped, hand clutching the hilt of the knife in his belt.

That’s a lot of biters. A lot.

They came in a shuffling mass. The explosion of gunfire was deafening. Desa winced, letting out a cry and a Savior became victim to gnashing teeth.

“Negan, we need to go,” Simon called. “Before we’re overwhelmed—”

“I fucking see that, dipshit — grab the—”

Desa made a split second decision. In the back of her mind she recognized the sheer stupidity of her actions, but she didn’t have time to sketch out a well detailed plan. She just needed to get away and, if possible, drag Negan with her.

You know the protocol.

The moment Negan approached she reared back and kneed him in the crotch, hard. He grunted, and she saw Simon spin and raise his weapon. Before he could fire a shot and before Negan could fully grasp her actions, she wrenched Lucille away. Negan seemed more distressed at the loss of his bat than the potential injury Desa had caused to his nether regions.

That’s telling.

She ran like a bat out of hell. Bullets whizzed past her ears and she burst into the woods, hearing Negan’s frantic voice peppered with insults. The dense trees masked the sound of gunfire and screaming saviors, reducing it to a thrum.

Desa ran, arms pumping, Lucille clutched in her hand. She didn’t dare slow — she was smaller than Negan, faster, but she could hear him barreling through the forest after her like a raging bull. He was being carried by sheer rage and Desa was being carried by fear and determination. Both cancelled each other out.

After what seemed like eternity, when the sound of gunfire was only a light disturbance in the distance, Desa stopped and spun. A moment later Negan burst through the brush, face streaked with blood.

He’d drawn his knife — the thing was as long as Desa’s forearm. His composure hadn’t broken, and he still held that arrogant swagger. Except for now, he wasn’t being humorous or mocking. He was legitimately mad.

It’s a bat. Why does he care so much?

“That was a bad fucking move.”

“I know. Doesn’t mean I regret it,” Desa panted. “And I’m not going to regret this, either.” 

A dark shape dropped from the trees above. Negan slashed at the masked figure, knife scraping through flesh. Both men went down in a tangle of limbs.

A groan prompted Desa to turn. A dead face with rotting teeth groped for her throat. With a cry of alarm she shouldered the biter, but the thing was far to big for her to move alone.

Shit. Shit, shit —

Negan and his attacker wrestled on the ground, both struggling for the bowie knife. Desa didn’t have time to observe or intervene. Her fingers curled tight around Lucille and she swung, bashing biters head in with a vicious cry.

The thing toppled. She lunged to assist in restraining Negan, but he’d already been rendered unconscious.

The masked figure stood, removing the bandana from around his mouth.

“That went well.”

“Is everyone okay? Is Jack okay?”

“Yeah,” Mason replied. It was good, seeing a familiar face. Especially one with a permanent smile. “Everyone’s fine. We’ve never had to use the sewer before, so it was a hassle getting everyone down there. Especially the kids.”

Especially Jack.

Desa’s brother hated smaller, smelly spaces. Despite the fact that she’d assisted countless others in making the tunnels as habitable as possible, the constant, raunchy odor would probably never go away.

“What are we doing with him?”

Mason glanced down at Negan’s unconscious form. For once, they’d break their rule. Mother and Father would want to meet him, for sure.

“Taking him back. We’re all in the tunnels right now — as soon as those guys are gone, we can start moving everyone back in.” 

“Did you guys have enough time to get everyone out?”

“We had ten minutes.. Allison was the one who saw the caravan and radioed it in.” 

Desa nodded. She shot a glance down at Negan, glancing around before gesturing for Mason to help her life the much heavier man.

“Mother and Father will be so proud of us,” Mason practically salivated at the concept. Desa said nothing, keeping a firm grip on Negan’s ankles. ‘“They won’t be able to say that we didn’t work. They won’t.”

“They never say that we don’t work.”

“They’ve said it about me. I’ve overheard them,” Mason said. “I probably shouldn't be repeating this, but I heard them one night say that—”

“Mason, please don’t.”

“I forget you’re not a gossiper.”

“I never have been.”

“I’ll keep quiet, then. Wouldn’t want to blab something out that I shouldn’t,” Mason chuckled, grunting as he heaved Negan upwards. They approached the entrance to the sewer, staring at the grated pipeline, overgrown with vines and poking from a hill in the ground. They only had to wait a brief moment — the on-duty guard revealed himself, peering between the bars.

“Is it safe to go back up?”

“Don’t know. We were busy with something else,” Desa jerked her chin down at Negan. “He’s the leader. And that caravan? That’s just the start.”

“Mother and Father have been anxious,” the man murmured. Desa could smell him from a yard away, and she suddenly had doubt about going into the concrete pipeline. “Mason, go back up and check if they’re gone. I want to get out of this hellhole as fast as possible. You, come with me.”

Mason nodded, bounding up the hill and out of sight. The sewer grate popped from its mooring and the man, whose named had escaped Desa, emerged and grasped hold of Negan, hoisting him up along with Desa’s assistance.

“Did Allison lure those walkers?”

“Of course she did. The little freak can practically command those things. I’d like a puff of whatever it is she’s smoking, but I’m scared I won’t come back the same.”

“If you want crazy, just wait until you meet this guy,” Desa shot a look at Negan as they hurried down the vacant, dim tunnel, feet splashing through the water. Desa could hear slight noises deeper within, and she beamed at the sounds of her people. “Just you wait.”

[metamorpheus-blog1]

c h a r a c t e r + q u e s t i o n n a i r e

[ tw for: drug/alcohol use, death, mental illness ] 

Holy shit, why the fuck is this so long

BASICS

Full name: Marcus Christopher Russo

Any nicknames?: Morpheus, Mark, Marky, Russ, plus a slew of unflattering nicknames from old Army buddies that belong solely to that group of people. 

Age: 35 

Birthday/Zodiac sign: May 9th, 1982 // Taurus. Marcus has a majority of the typical Taurus traits: practical, dependable, down to earth. Regardless of his line of work, this isn’t a guy with a hair-trigger temper or the type to get his rocks off on on the violence in what he does, though he does have a very grim self awareness of just what kind of person he has to be to excel without apology at this job. That sense of strong commitment that keeps him nailed down to assignments with single-minded dedication tends to be a double-edged sword in the way it can overwhelm pretty much everything else and push it to the side in favor of finishing the task at hand. He’s the type that really needs and values internal stability in himself and others, which is BIG when it comes to why his lack of it is so self destructive. 

Height: 5′10. Taller guys, don’t talk shit.

Any tattoos, piercings?: 15 y/o Marcus had a bathroom + sewing needle variety of piercing in his left ear that has long since closed up and been forgotten. Cocky young recruit Marcus got the ‘onward to victory’ printed in neat stacked black script on his ribcage, right side, that he shares with three other recruits from his hometown (this phrase picked from several equally dramatic Big Damn Hero quotes they threw around, all freshly eighteen and very full of aspirations of being badasses), and under that, in ascending levels of freshness, are the month/year arrival and return dates for his three deployments. Deployment #1 has one small dot beside it, #3 has two, tallying those in his squadron ‘fallen in line of duty’, as much as he hates that term. There’s no ‘falling’ involved in an IED on the side of the road blasting you straight to hell but - ! Marcus’ bitterness internalized again, we move on to, of course, this classic number on his left forearm. 

FAVORITES

Sound: He likes NYC’s urban flavor of white noise. Anything repetitive without harshness to it: wind chimes, a clock ticking, steady rain. Back when he used to live on the coast in South Carolina, Marcus went in for all those soothing beach sounds, but the bustle on the city streets has its own charm against waves and seagulls. 

Color: Marcus lives in washed out colors, closer to neutrals, with a side of beige and olive green. Even his black is a little less harsh, like a t shirt that’s still being worn years after it’s faded and started collecting holes. His mind is all vibrant orange though, that Mad Max sandstorm orange, Norah’s orange when he thinks of her every time he peels a tangerine, that kind of desert orange that’s still stuck on him after all these years -- even if in the scope of his service, six years in the real world isn’t very long at all. 

Person: He won’t forgive himself if he says Artemis. That’s too much responsibility to put on her shoulders. So maybe not favorite, but most important? That’s pretty hefty too. Whatever it is, Sunny’s calming influence on this guy can’t be overstated. 

Memory: BCT, or basic training. Now listen, a lot of basic is really really shitty. Shitty food, shitty schedule, shitty exercise, the same shitty drills over and over and over every day. You get tear gassed in basic training. You sweat harder than you’ve ever sweat in your life and you go to bed at night absolutely exhausted. But BCT was the first time Marcus actually saw his future falling into place in a way he could be proud of, when he started to figure out his strengths and advance, and where he found people he could relate to and build friendships with. Really, with that in mind, he’d happily take the shitty food again. 

Place: Lmfao his apartment, messy as he and it are on the inside. Always good to have a good secure place to come back to. Weirdly enough though, he is also pretty comfortable with/fond of the Westside Dock, just because of the sheer amount of time he spends camped out there supervising deals from a distance just in case anything goes wrong. Zeus would’ve kept him parked plenty busy on his main trade, but Hades spreads Marcus over more varied tasks, which is what’s led to his familiarity with every boat, rooftop, and shipping container in that yard. He used to frequent the Warehouse with weekly regularity for the good live music, but understandably some work disagreements have rendered that a no-go zone.

Vice: He’s got the holy trio of Drugs, Booze, and Cigarettes going on, but in light of Madi’s favorite vice mini-meme I’m going to go with his complete lack of any sort of positive coping mechanisms or drive to start trying to develop them. Marcus’ constant self-reassurance is ‘it could be so much worse stop being a whiny bitch’, even the very middle of a panic attack, so shout out to that toxic suck-it-up type of masculinity the Army cultivates along with an unhealthy dose of ‘mental illness isn’t that extreme’ mentality. Keep tellin yourself that, bud.

HAVE THEY EVER…

Been in love?: Yes, in both the high school puppy variety and his one experience in slow-burning, real n’ deep adult love. 

Done drugs?: Oh yeah, and a pretty big variety. Marcus’ hard limit is anything requiring a needle, he knows just how easy it is to fall headlong into addiction with something that potent. Most of his heaviest various drug use was high school and right after his discharge, but he’s settled into a routine of pot whenever the opportunity shows itself and the rare bump of cocaine when he really really needs it. The latter tends to allow him to get what he needs done done, but it understandably sends his mental state straight to shit in the fallout, not to mention it’s an expensive for a picker-upper.  Cocaine is down as something that happens a handful of times a year, maybe. Doing a line is, in his mind, a lot less extreme than shooting something up straight to your veins. Marky’s pretty willfully blind to the fact that something you snort can be just as addictive as something you inject. 

Killed someone?: 

Marcus isn’t really keeping track of that number anymore. There’s a lot of the emotional part of his psyche that gets turned off for this process -- it’s not a person, it’s not murder, it’s a mission, you get it done clean and fast and you get out. Never think of a mark as an individual, complex human being. You’re screwed the second you do.

Betrayed someone’s trust?: Not on the scale of large deceptions. Eurydice might just count, positive and unsuspecting enough as their interactions were before Cronus’ order came down and Marcus had a hit to carry out. But, he reasons, it is the mob. Their definition of trust stands on shaky ground. And thinking that, it’s hard for him to resist the urge to just laugh at how malformed his morality has gotten these past few years.

Had their heart broken?: I mean, yeah, but he did it his damn self and he still thinks it was the right thing. Ending the engagement would never hurt as much as going through with it and waking up twenty years down the road, miserably unhappy. Norah is the closest he’s ever gotten to feeling truly understood but shackling her to his troubled ass would only bog her down and foster a resent towards him he could honestly never hypothetically blame her for feeling. We’ll call it heart break in the name of the greater good. 

Lost someone?: Everyone in the combat zone has a story about losing someone, but Marcus never felt his squad buddies were so close to him he had that kind of ownership over their lives to say they were someone he’d ‘lost’. No close family members dead either, Norah might be something closer to loss if their split hadn’t been his choice. So no, there’s no one he’s mourning, just some still strangely vacant spaces in his mental roster and more than enough persistent ghosts left in his memories.

DO THEY…

Have any pets?: Nope, though he is very firmly a dog person.

Have a family they still talk to?: Yes, but he’s not overly fond of doing it, #1 Son of the Year. Maria and Randy are still firmly parked in Newburgh and it’s honestly just depressing to him to call home and visualize them sitting in the same shitty house on the same shitty couch living the same aimless repetitive lives. 

Have a best friend?: It’s tempting to say Artemis again, real tempting in the kneejerk way, but he’s got way too much insecurity around their relationship and how much pressure his problems can put on a person once they’re close enough to know about them to weigh her down with best friend, if that’s even the phrase for what their relationship is. He’s not about to try and compete with the likes of Apollo and Dionysus either, not when he knows how much they both mean to her. 

Want to get married and/or have kids?: Oh boy. Well, there’s a difference between wanting it and actually pursuing it. Marcus is of the give-your-kids-a-better-life-than-you mentality and he doesn’t think he could do that now that he’s pretty deep in an illegal lifestyle. As for marriage, we all know about his track record with that. 

Want to leave?: He might, if he had any idea of where else he could go without immediately falling into the mental Pit of Despair. NYC has pretty much everything keeping him somewhat together. 

THIS OR THAT?

CALL OR TEXT; texting is convenient but there’s too much in tone and word choice left up for interpretation and it can turn into a liability when he’s got time-sensitive information he needs to know. Marcus almost always calls, especially if it’s about a job; texting is for sharing contact information or an address, or more casual ‘off-duty’ plans.

WEALTH OR LOYALTY; loyalty wins out, but just barely. Wealth is mighty tempting to someone who’s never had it, but at the same time, he’s never had it. When it comes down to choosing one or the other, wealth is the one he’s most capable of living without (no matter how sweet it would be to have). There’s the added fact that genuine excessive wealth makes him almost uncomfortable?? There’s the conspicuous feeling off a sign taped to his back that tells more bougie people ‘this man considers Kraft the superior kind of cheese’ and that’s not gonna change if he suddenly pulls the winning lotto ticket at the minimart below his apartment. 

LOVE OR LUST; not that Marcus is some heartbroken cynic cruising bars every night, but lust is easy and manageable and the occasional one night stand gets lost in the big city without any of those pesky loose ends; it’s been six years and the soreness of parting ways with Norah isn’t so fresh he feels her absence like he did first time he went home with a girl in NYC. He’s not about to entertain any fantasies of romance. The pool of people with shared life experience, or at least similar enough experiences to understand, is... small, to say the least. Why rope some poor unsuspecting soul into his personal whirlpool of bullshit? 

5 FRIENDS OR 100 ACQUAINTANCES; that’s a lot closer to his situation now, Marcus doesn’t tend to accumulate close friends, or at least semi-purposefully he doesn’t. He’s good at that kind of (surprisingly) pleasant, simple interaction that tends to fix a version of himself in people’s minds that doesn’t invite further speculation or questions (though if you ask, he’ll nine times out of ten be an open book). What you see with Mark is what you get, unless you stumble into or purposefully try for something deeper. 

SUMMER OR WINTER; you’d think summer, considering Marcus’ open air approach to his apartment (though that’s more of a claustrophobia thing than anything else), but he finds winter a lot more manageable and he’s had more than enough time in the Middle East to properly enjoy heat, even though going outside when it’s warm and he isn’t wearing 60 pounds of gear is a little treasure in itself. People are easier to track during winter too, their patterns are more predictable, there’s less roaming outside when it’s fuckin cold. 

OTHERS:

Wanted plots/connections: will be linked soon!