#the yellow markings are all vaguely eye spots

[gobstoppr]

first draft at a john design..

some design notes in the tags

[qualsly]

the party as dragons!! from left to right, top to bottom: mike (sky), will (rain/night), lucas (sand), dustin (rain), max (sky) and el (night)

here's el with her horns grown out :)

[jeonstudios]

fontana di trevi | 02

you seek out a vampire to help you with something.

pairing: vampire!jk x sadgirl, blood donor!reader

genre: vampire au, angst, fluff (really a sadgirl fic lol)

word count: 9k

warnings: same as last time basically: blood, needles, suicidal thoughts and intentions

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 2/2

<previous | next>

© between takes is copyright jeonstudios. this fic can not be modified, re-posted, or translated without my permission.

“Thanks,” you smile politely as you close the car door, hearing the Uber drive off behind you. The walk up to the house is no different than last time, yet it definitely feels different. Both because of what happened almost a week ago, but also since you’re hoping this will be the last time.

What certainly is different is the surprised look on the vampire’s face as he opens the door to see you standing there with your hands in the pockets of your winter coat.

He himself is wearing a black hoodie, and once again, black shorts. His hair looks a little messier than how you’re used to seeing it. Almost like he’s been sleeping. Vampires don’t sleep, though, do they?

“I… didn’t think you’d show,” he admits honestly, nonetheless opening the door wider for you, and as you enter, you can’t help but think that he looks… almost cuddly.

Of course, he still gives off the usual intimidating aura, and he should probably be even scarier to you considering what happened last time you met him, but… you don’t know. Perhaps you’re just so deprived of human touch that a bloodthirsty vampire’s cold embrace seems inviting.

This time, he waits in the hallway while you step out of your shoes and remove your coat. 

“Yeah, I still want this. I just… wasn’t prepared,” you explain rather vaguely, knowing that he understands exactly what you’re getting at anyway. You want to die but on your terms.

“It wasn’t my intention. To do what I did.”

You meet his eyes. It’s not an outright apology, but it feels eerily close to one.

“You were there to… feed, weren’t you?”

He nods. “Didn’t get the chance to on Thursday or Friday.”

It’s your turn to nod in understanding. For a short moment, you stand there, looking at each other. 

Until you break the silence. “So, can we start?”

“Sure,” he agrees, turning around to head toward the kitchen.

Like the first time you showed up to his house when he didn’t think you were going to, he has to bring the supplies from wherever he keeps them. You take your spot at the table, slip off your cardigan, and wait.

The vampire returns with his hands full, placing the stuff down on the table before he pulls out another chair and positions it the same way as always. But his focus lies on your skin.

“These are new bruises?” he asks, carefully grasping your hand and very gently lifting it to better inspect the yellowing marks covering your skin. “You always bruise like this after?”

You follow his gaze. There are currently three bruises on your right arm, none the same as the night he almost killed you. Two are yellow and from when you bumped into a dresser at home a few days ago. The third is purple but smaller and its origin a mystery. If he wanted to see bruises, he should’ve seen the ones on your legs after you fell when he attacked you.

“Not the first time, but yeah. Usually just from the needle site, but lately, it’s all over. I guess I’m a little deficient in something,” you joke quietly, but the vampire doesn't laugh. 

“Why does it interest you so much? Do you have some kind of medical degree?” you ask, thinking back to when he first asked you why you didn’t wonder about his apparent knowledge.

“Not officially, but being dependent on humans like we are to some extent, you tend to pick up on stuff, and having been around as long as I have, it’s even more unavoidable. But I’ve never seen bruising this severe from blood loss.”

Fair enough. Your body should definitely try to keep the little blood remaining inside your veins, where it belongs. 

He starts prepping your arm, but instead of looking away, you close your eyes. Are you imagining things or has he been… softer lately? Making sure you got home safely instead of leaving you to your fate, almost worrying about your bruises, and being gentler in the way he attaches the needle? Then again, he’s only making sure you can give him as much blood as possible, and he also would’ve probably killed you if he’d gotten ahold of you last week.

“I take it you’ve killed before?” 

There’s a few seconds of silence, but then he answers, and there’s nothing hidden in his words or voice that reveals something more.

“I have.”

“How do you…,” you start, unsure of how to phrase your question. “I mean, what do you do… after?”

“Are you asking…?”

“How do you… dispose of them? And… I guess, how will you dispose of… me?”

It’s not really a sensitive question for you, so you’re not sure for whose sake you’re so careful. You doubt the vampire really cares.

You hear him exhale. “I guess it depends on the circumstances. I haven’t planned anything.”

You wince when he sticks you, more painful this time for some reason. The ball is placed in your hand like always, and you start to squeeze it.

Your curiosity isn’t that dire, so you’re not disappointed by his answer. Maybe he’s not even being honest, and it’s for your sake? Which brings you back to why he’s being extra gentle. The only other explanation you can think of is that he feels sorry for you. Maybe he just truly wants to spare you unnecessary pain and worry in the last moments of your pathetic life? Because this is it. With how shitty you’ve been feeling these last couple of weeks and especially since last time, you know it won’t be long. Today’s the day.

One bag. He can take one bag and after that he’ll have to end it. That way, you don’t have to bleed out, and he’ll get as much blood as possible. If he takes your advice about how to drain the rest, well, that’s up to him.

You’re startled by the sound of knocking, opening your eyes to see the vampire rise from his chair, seemingly sharing your surprise. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

Nodding, you close your eyes again, getting as comfortable as you can in the chair while wondering who’s at the door. A vampire friend? A vampire partner? Surely, he doesn’t hang out with humans on the regular? You always got the impression, both from him and vampires in pop culture, that they don’t really care for humans. In fact, a dirty human only pesters a vampire’s environment unless they’re actively dying.

Your heart hurts. It’s beating heavily inside your chest, a feeling you’ve grown somewhat used to over the weeks, but it feels undeniably worse. Like every beat is a painful and exhausting accomplishment. Your breaths grow heavier too. 

Surely, it’s been more than a minute. Is he on his way back? If he were a human, chatting with another human at the front door, maybe you would’ve heard them, but you can’t discern anything. 

It feels a little like your head’s in the clouds, and you’re not sure if your eyes are still closed or if they’re open and you just can’t see anything. You have a feeling that not only can’t you hear the vampire, you can’t hear anything anymore.

Realizing that this is it, you try to call for him quietly to tell him so, but although you’re pretty certain you’re dying, for some reason, you don’t want to interrupt whatever he’s doing with his visitor.

“Fine, alright, I’ll talk to him, but please, this is not a good time.”

“But he’s being an ass, and you were the last person he spoke to before he left for fucking Iceland.”

Jeongguk rolls his eyes at his friend, Yuqi. With how much she and Taehyung love each other, there’s a surprising amount of drama. 

“I don’t wanna get involved. I’ll call him later.”

“Fine, get back to me after. If he doesn’t answer, I’m taking the first flight.”

“Vampire?”

Yuqi, who was just about to turn around to leave, stops in her tracks.

“What… was that?” she asks, standing still before discreetly scenting the air. “Is that… blood?”

Jeongguk’s eyes widen. He’s used to smelling blood whenever you’re there to leave it, but not this much. Quickly, and without regard to Yuqi, he turns to rush back into his kitchen, eyes going even wider at the vision in front of him.

“Vampire?” you call out quietly again from the chair, eyes closed and unknowing of his return. You seem out of it, bordering on unconscious, and it’s not without reason. Jeongguk curses himself for not double checking the blood bag when he knows that brand is prone to ripping because the bag isn’t full; it’s broken, and your blood is dripping into a big puddle of red on the floor.

You think… you’re being… carried? By someone firm and… warm. You like that.

“I’m not warm," a low voice comments. "At least I’m not supposed to be.”

“I’m dying… right?” you mumble, feeling how the vampire puts you down on something soft.

“Probably, yeah.”

He does something to your arms, and you can’t figure out what, but you realize it has something to do with collecting the remaining blood when you’re gone.

There’s another voice.

Next time you open your eyes, you feel… different. And upset. You’re not as dizzy as you’ve become accustomed to, and the room doesn’t spin when you sit up on the bed. Your body hurts, but it feels more like you’re simply tired and beat than extremely weak. Most importantly, you feel, which means you’re not dead.

As if he could sense your awakening—or just possesses superhuman hearing—a door opens to reveal the vampire. He's wearing other clothes, grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt, and his face doesn't give you anything.

“What happened?” you question, looking around the room that’s clearly a bedroom. “And where am I?”

“You passed out. There was a hole in the bag, so the blood was just leaking onto the floor. I had my friend steal some from the hospital, and I gave you a transfusion. Yuqi also brought some clothes and stuff for you, so you’re staying here at least until tomorrow. Then you’re free to leave whenever you want.”

“I… don’t understand. Why would you—why not just let me go then?”

“I changed my mind.”

You look at him, bewildered and trying to find the words. “What do you mean you changed your mind? We had an agreement?”

“I know, but I changed my mind. I’m not doing it. If the blood matters to you, the bags are in the freezer.”

“Why–what would I do with blood?” you question in frustration. Is he offering it back in case you want to drink it? Try to put it back inside your veins? Apparently, you’ve already had transfusions, so you have exactly zero use for frozen bags of blood. “Why can’t you just get on with it? Why not let me die?”

“I do not. Want. To,” he hisses.

You stare at him in silence, feeling confused and betrayed. He looks away but doesn't seem affected. No shame, no regret, no anything but a moment of frustration to breach otherwise calm determination.

“Here’s the stuff,” he gestures toward a duffel bag by the foot of the bed. “You have a bathroom right outside, and I’m gonna order some food for you. You should take it easy; I wasn’t able to give you as much blood as you really need, and unfortunately, what I’ve previously collected isn’t fit to give back. Since it’s been frozen and stored improperly for that kind of purpose, there would be a risk of clotting.”

You look at him from where you’re sitting on his bed, and he looks back at you. The irritation you feel grows beyond what you’re capable of conveying, and so it turns into defeat. It makes you angry, how he managed to back out of giving you what you wanted at the very last second. You spent months upholding your end of the deal, and when it finally came time for him to do the same, he didn’t. 

“Don’t bother,” you lie down slowly, your back facing him where he stands at the door. Silently, you curse your body for feeling so tired; ideally, you’d stomp out of there, slamming the door behind you. “I’ll leave tomorrow morning.”

Your own clothes are still wearable. The few stains of blood are relatively small and dried, and the vampire already placed you on his bed, so you don’t feel like you’ll do any more damage by sleeping in them. The house is quiet, but you don’t think he’s left it, which begs the question of where he is. And also if he sleeps and if he does, then… where? He never gave you a tour or anything, so you have no idea what the rest of his house looks like. Whatever; you don’t care, anyway.

His sheets smell clean, though, and it doesn’t take you long to pass out, truly exhausted.

When you wake up, you can’t find your phone, and without any other time measuring device, you don’t know what time it is. It appears like the sun rose not too long ago so that narrows your guess a little bit at least.

Sitting up slowly, you take a deep breath. You feel… okay. A bit sore almost, but more energetic than you have in a while. Unfortunately, it’s not necessarily a good thing in your book.

Sighing, you put your feet to the hardwood floor. They carry you with only a little dizziness, and you set your sight on the bedroom door. It opens smoothly, and you peer out, looking for the bathroom the vampire mentioned. There’s a door immediately to your left which you guess must be it, and so you head toward it. 

After successfully finding the bathroom and using it, you decide to continue the search for your phone. Since you thought last night would be your last and therefore arrived by Uber rather than driving, it means that without your phone, you have no way home.

You make your way down some stairs, recognizing the hallway as the one the vampire has led you through what feels like countless times. Last time you remember having your phone was in the kitchen, so that’s where you steer your steps.

As luck would have it, the kitchen is also where the vampire happens to be. Upon your entrance, your eyes immediately fall on the tall man where he stands, leaning back against the counter. Although he surely heard you approaching a long time ago, he only turns his head slowly toward you when you’re well into the room. He’s hard to read; doesn’t offer much.

“Do you know where my phone is?”

The vampire twists his body to look at the counter behind him, sliding something toward you. You take a step closer, inspecting the device when it’s in your hands. Three percent.

“Do you have a charger I can borrow?”

“Yeah,” he answers with a nod and pushes off the counter, leaving the kitchen. You wait, quietly wondering what exactly goes on inside his head. He seems unfazed by the whole ordeal, which doesn’t necessarily surprise you. But what you still don’t quite understand is why he claimed to have changed his mind. Could it be that he just didn’t want to deal with your body? 

The vampire returns with a white charger in his hand, his skin cold against yours when you accept it from him. Finding a fitting outlet near the table, you plug the charger in and sit down, gazing out through the window while you wait for the phone to charge enough for the trip home. The vampire has gone back to leaning wordlessly against the counter, and you ignore him.

Opening your phone, you find that the only unread notification you have is a spam email. Why are you surprised? With a small sigh, you lock the device again, hoping it’ll charge faster if you don’t use it. Forty percent should be enough.

It’s snowing outside, and you watch the big snowflakes fall slowly and silently to the already white ground. Waiting like this gives you time to go over all the things you’ve done wrong in your life.

Next time you unlock your phone, the battery has reached thirty-seven percent. You open the Uber app to see that a car can arrive in ten minutes. You confirm it, noting the time as eleven twenty-three. You’ll wait five more minutes before you start getting ready, which honestly is just putting your shoes and coat on. 

The seconds pass slowly one after the other. You wonder briefly how long it took the vampire to clean because, although you didn’t notice the blood dripping to the floor while it was happening, you understood that there was a lot of it. Must suck for him to have it wasted like that. The question is also why he would waste even more blood by giving you a transfusion? If he went through the pain of acquiring bagged blood, why not just drink that?

At eleven twenty-nine, your phone’s battery is at fifty-two percent. You unplug the charger from the wall, and as you stand, you place it on the table with a quiet ‘thanks.’

“Going home?” the vampire wonders, black eyes watching you. He looks casual, but there’s that hint of softness shining through again. 

You pass him on your way to the front door. “Yeah.”

“Reconsider,” he encourages, and you know he’s not talking about your journey home. 

You roll your eyes. “No.”

“Yes,” he follows. “Whatever’s troubling you doesn’t matter. There’s so much for you to see and do, so many places to visit and people to meet. Your life is so incredibly short, and you won’t have time to see even a fraction of the world as is.”

“Thanks for the pep talk,” you say, bending down to put your boots on.

“Have you even been outside of this town?”

Why is he trying to control you? He doesn’t know you; he doesn’t care. It’s not like you’ll magically be fine after his ‘cheer up, pal,’ and ending your life is not a decision you have taken hastily or easily.

“No.”

“Don’t you want to see what’s out there?”

“Of course. But it’s not…” you straighten up to look at him, frustration dripping from your words. “Don’t you see that I’m all alone? I don’t have anybody, no one to experience things with, and much less the money to just up and leave. Sure, maybe I could get a loan and travel through Italy for two weeks, but then what? I’ll be miserable and in debt.”

The vampire tilts his head, looking at you with his black eyes but not saying anything. He just doesn't understand. You put your other foot into your boot and reach for your coat before he can try to persuade you again for whatever reason.

“Whatever,” you sigh, “I’ll be going.”

He doesn’t stop you from opening the door, and he doesn’t follow you when you leave, one boot undone and with your coat held to your chest. Irritation turns to sadness and defeat as you wait for the Uber to arrive, taking the opportunity to actually put your coat on and tie your laces properly. Snow falls around you, and when you're done, you stand there, waiting pathetically by the side of the road in the cold. You’re back at square one.

Despite having slept for countless hours at the vampire’s house, you head straight for your bed the moment you return home. For another few hours, you sleep, and then you spend a few more lying there in the dark, thinking. 

It’s seven p.m. on a Saturday. You’ve wasted a lot of time, months even, waiting for the vampire to get what he wanted and follow through on his part. But that’s over now, so what are you waiting for right now? 

Two and a half hours later, you put your boots back on and throw a lighter jacket over your shoulders, one that allows easier access to your neck.

Still not feeling your best, it takes you fifteen minutes to walk what the vampire did in six, carrying you on his back. You don’t understand him. He acted like he didn’t want you to die, but if he cared about you at all, he would’ve backed out earlier and not waited until his actions brought you within an inch of your life for what, the third time? Was he hoping you’d stay alive so that you’d hopefully continue donating your blood, even if less frequently? 

Although nearing his feeding grounds, you’re hoping not to run into him. He did state that he changed his feeding days to Thursdays, and last week, when you did run into him, it seemed like a coincidence. Besides, this place is your best bet tonight; even the vampire admitted that there were others there last time. Surely, they’re around here somewhere tonight as well. 

Since you assume vampires don’t want unnecessary attention, you stake out near the same club as last week, but this time, you hide in the shadows around a corner. Then, you wait for a victim.

Thirty minutes to midnight, a woman stumbles out through the door, a bouncer holding it open for her. She’s obviously had a bit to drink, and as she clumsily fixes her little cross body bag and sets off along the street, you look around from your hiding spot.

But you don’t see or hear anything; not a dark figure moving nor the sound of footsteps. Still, you follow her, hoping for the best. Wanting to keep your distance, you instead find it hard to keep up with her, which is saying something about your current health.

About two hundred meters from the club, she suddenly slows down, her attention seemingly drawn to something in an alleyway. You weren’t sure exactly how the vampires hunt, but by how the woman begins to slowly drift inside the dark alleyway of her own accord, you guess they do have some kind of pull. Most women, even when slightly drunk, typically try not to do… that.

You quicken your steps as much as possible without breaking into a sprint. Not only do you want to speak to a vampire; if you can take that woman’s place and leave her unscathed, it’s an added bonus. Before you’ve caught up, the woman slowly and quietly disappears, and when you turn the corner with your phone in hand and flashlight turned on, you spot a man holding her to his body. 

Evidently hearing you approaching, the man has placed them against the wall, halfway obscured by a dumpster and hoping you’d walk past them, which you would have if you weren’t so focused on the woman and your mission.

The man squints in the light, and you very clearly discern long fangs. You take another step into the alleyway, but what you didn’t expect was to be grabbed from another direction. 

Gasping, you feel strong arms hold your back against someone’s chest, effortlessly keeping you immobile. 

“What can we offer? Though you smell like vampire already?” The man who holds you says, sounding surprised, and your phone is taken from your hand and the flashlight turned off. 

Obviously, they assume you’re one of the freaky ones looking for vampires because any normal person would run. Your reason for wanting to find one is different, though. 

“I have a proposition,” you stutter, not too scared but uncomfortable with how the man noses at your neck. Despite knowing that if the vampire bites, it’ll most likely be your neck, you can’t help trying to pull away. It’s just another bodily reaction. 

Your words intrigue him, and he moves, creating just a tad bit more space between your bodies and looking down at you with a curious smirk.

“A proposition, you say?”

“You can have my blood—all of it—if you take it right here and now.”

“What’s the catch?” he asks, raising an eyebrow much like a certain vampire you know. “What’s in it for you?”

“There is no catch. I want to die.”

The other vampire, curiously listening to your conversation, whispers something in the other woman’s ear, and lets her go. She stumbles away from him and then casually leaves the alleyway, turning the corner calmly as if nothing happened. 

You meet the vampire’s puzzled yet curious eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with my blood if you think I’m trying to trick you into something. Except that it’s apparently B positive which I understand is not that desirable, but—”

“You’re Jeon’s human?”

“Uh—what? Who?” you ask, confused but slowly putting two and two together.

“Fuck, should we?” the other vampire questions quietly.

“Jeon,” the closest one to you starts, “is the vampire you smell of. He’s been very persistent no one touches his human.”

“Yeah. Can’t blame him. If I was lucky enough to have someone offer to be a walking blood bag, I wouldn’t let them outside at all.”

“I’m not… I’m not anyone’s, and I’m not a walking blood bag,” you explain, feeling belittled. “He made me a promise that he broke. He was going to help me die in exchange for my blood, but he just used me to collect blood, and then he didn’t deliver.”

The two vampires look at each other, and you feel like they didn’t really pay attention to anything you just said.

“I don’t know, man. I’m not sure I wanna get on his bad side.”

“But he’s too arrogant,” the first one complains. “If I want something, why should he prevent me from getting it? He doesn’t own the supply here. I’m a thousand years old; I shouldn’t need to ask for permission.”

“Dude’s like three thousand years old, though? You don’t need to ask permission; you can literally choose anyone. Except this one, for some reason. I don’t think I would if I were you.”

“Our agreement is over,” you try to enter the conversation the two vampires are holding over your head.

“Well,” the one holding your arms peers down at you, “He said that under no circumstances is anyone allowed to touch you.”

You scoff, growing irritated again, “Okay, well, are there any vampires around that aren’t such wimps? If I can’t find anyone to just snap my neck, I’m going to the train tracks and then my blood will be wasted.”

That’s a lie, of course. There’s a reason you picked death by vampire; you’re too scared to do it any other way, and no matter how much you want to die, you can’t subject anyone else—like a poor train driver—to it. Vampires are cold and heartless. They don’t care.

“Hold on. Wait,” the vampire holds you tighter when you haphazardly try to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Look,” he says to the other, “He can’t tell us what to do. Besides, if he gets angry, we can just say that she said their agreement was over, and we did her a favor out of the goodness of our hearts.”

“You don’t have a heart; you just want to annoy him.”

The vampire grins. At first, it’s a boyish smile directed at his friend, but when he slowly tilts his head down to look at you, it turns almost sinister. “I think I’m gonna do it.”

You gulp. No matter how much this is what you want, it does scare you. Mostly because you’re afraid it will be painful.

“Is there a way you can kill me first? I don’t want it to hurt.”

The smiling vampire shakes his head. 

“No.”

You thought death was supposed to be a void. A void of darkness, devoid of physical matter, emotions, and thoughts. But it hurts. It hurts so much. 

Then, a void does take over.

Jeongguk knew you’d try again. If he wouldn’t kill you, you were going to find someone who would. And despite hoping that you would’ve changed your mind, he was unfortunately right. He spent an hour roaming the dark streets around the town’s attempt at a nightlife, but he didn’t come across you. Not until he visits the same place where you first found him, a place he wouldn’t take as your first choice since you ran into him there a week earlier. 

He’s spent hours and hours these last weeks with you on his mind; the little human who wants to die so badly. It’s just something about you and your willingness to die that doesn’t sit right with him, and you won’t leave his thoughts. It’s not his business, he told himself as he saw you curled up and unconscious in your car. Who is he to tell someone what they should do with their life? If anything, respecting your wishes and consuming freely donated blood is easier and more ethical than taking it from plastered people who aren’t really sure what’s going on, right?

The scenes replaying the most in his head are more recent. It’s the way you suggested he kill and butcher your body, saying no one would look for you anyway, and how you called for him, unknowing that your blood was dripping to the floor but still trying your hardest to squeeze that ball for him. Your fingers were barely moving, but you tried since he wanted that blood. 

He’s not entirely sure what he’s doing, trying to convince you to live, but he guesses that he simply needs to know that you experienced some good things in life too. He can’t let you end it this way, as a lifeless body, discarded somewhere where no one will find you.

Anger, frustration, and an odd feeling of helplessness flood him as he takes in the sight of the vampire in the process of draining you dry. He rushes into the dark alleyway, the vampire looking up from your neck just as Jeongguk strikes. There’s not much of a fight after that. The first vampire stumbles backward, and Jeongguk grabs your lifeless body from him as the second vampire approaches, eyes wide and with his hands raised shoulder height.

“Easy, man.”

“I fucking told you to leave her alone.”

The dazed vampire grumbles something, but Jeongguk doesn’t pay him any attention. He places your body down on the snow-covered ground and looks at your pale face while searching for a pulse right under your jaw. 

“She wanted to die.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jeongguk growls. “How much did you take?”

There is no pulse.

“At least three fourths. Possibly more.”

Jeongguk shuts his eyes. There’s no coming back from that.

You’ve lost and regained consciousness due to blood loss one too many times by now, but this time, it really feels different. Opening your eyes, the sunlight filling the room irritates your eyes, forcing you to squint for a few seconds. 

Without moving, you focus on something. The vampire. Jeon, was it? You watch as he rummages through his closet, practically soundlessly, taking out a few items and looking them over before settling on what looks like two black shirts, one long-sleeve and one short-sleeve. Then he digs out a pair of shorts and another pair of sweatpants. 

You’re not used to seeing him in direct sunlight, but now, the rays filtering through the half-opened blinds paint him in a new light, and you let your eyes linger on his arms as he folds the clothes. The green t-shirt he wears is doing a great job at highlighting his veiny, muscular forearms as they work. Light and shadows play along those very defined muscles, accentuating them further.

Your first impression of him was a cold one, one that slowly warmed a little over time both physically and mentally. But in this light? Without even touching him, he looks… warmer to you. Inviting, almost like when he wore that black hoodie. 

You sigh quietly and pull the blanket that’s thrown over you closer. The vampire hears and turns around, placing the clothes at the foot of his large bed.

“Hey. How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to consider his question. Though you’ve certainly felt better in a lot of ways, you don’t feel the way you’ve come to associate with severe blood loss. 

“Cold. And tired, but in a weird way.”

Weird is probably the best way to describe how you’re feeling in general. You feel light, but not weak. Tired, but not sleepy. 

He nods understandingly, “It’ll pass.”

You catch his gaze, holding it for a quiet moment. “You changed me, didn’t you?”

It’s the only explanation you can come up with. That vampire was hungry, and you remember slowly losing control in his grasp, both over your body and consciousness. With how many near-death experiences your body has endured in the last weeks—all blood loss related—there just wasn’t any chance you’d survive another draining.

“Yeah.” He looks away, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I couldn’t…”

You think you understand well enough what he’s trying to say, although you’re not too sure of his reasons or how to feel about it. He couldn’t let you die. In a way, you’re disappointed because you were finally getting what you wanted, and dying has proved itself to be surprisingly difficult for you. 

But you’re not angry; not like you were after the vampire saved you the first time. He mentioned once that not even vampires are immortal, so at least you know that you’re not doomed to an eternal life in suffering; you can always try again if you want. However, you’d be back at square one when it comes to options, but you don’t really feel the urgency anymore. At least not at the moment.

He turns his head toward you, meeting your eyes with his deep, dark ones. “Let me show the world to you.”

Surprised to say the least, you mumble a quiet “What?”

He angles his body further toward you, and you see that despite the softer look on his face, he’s certain. “I want to show you everything the world has to offer. All the good things; the magical places and people.”

Not sure what to say, you just stare at him.

“Vampires are not immortal,” he continues. “If you really don’t want this, I’ll help you die. I promised. But please, think about it. No catch, no expectations.”

“But why… Why would you want that?” 

You’ve been alone for so long, unable to keep people around and interested, so why would this being be?

“Because I found that I really didn’t enjoy draining you of your life, especially when you were already so low to begin with. I want you to get the chance to experience the good things life has to offer, and I can’t help but want to be around when you do.”

“You don’t know me though.”

“I kinda want to,” he says, standing up with the cheekiest smile you’ve ever seen on him. “Think about it, okay? I’m not expecting anything from you other than that you consider.”

Still very much processing his words, you feel a cold shiver wreck your body, something the vampire notices.

“I’ll get you another blanket. Your body is still in the process of changing, and with that comes a decrease in temperature. It’s normal to feel cold.”

He’s about to leave when you call for him.

“Wait. What… What's your name? Your given name?”

He stops, and he smiles again. “Jeongguk. And I know yours already; it was on your door.”

You sleep for a little while longer, but when you start to feel better, you also start to think. You’ve been so certain for so long, and you still are—you think—but… either way, you’d like some answers; a clearer view of the whole picture.

“Jeongguk?” you call, unsure how loud you need to be. It feels strange to use a name for the vampire.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens. “Yeah?”

“I have some… questions.”

He nods, stepping into the darkness that is his bedroom and closing the door behind him. 

“Light sensitive?” he nods toward the window, where you’ve pulled the curtains closed over the blinds.

“Yeah… Is that normal?”

“It is. So is feeling sensitive to sound, touch, smell; basically all the senses. But it will pass pretty quickly.”

“Okay. Well, can you… tell me everything about being a vampire? I didn’t think you slept, but you do? Or why do I still sleep?”

He rounds the bed to sit next to you, and you feel it sink as he gets comfortable. Slowly, you turn to face him, watching him lean back against the headboard.

“So, basically, we can do all the things humans do. For instance, you’re still programmed to breathe, but it’s more of a habit and a way to smell than a means of survival.”

While he speaks, you try it. It’s strange, holding your breath and not feeling that strong, strong urge to take in air after a while.

“You can eat human food, but it’s not what sustains you, so most vampires don’t. It gets kinda boring after a while; you’ll see what I mean. Most also don’t sleep as they consider it a waste of time, but you can if you want to. I do pretty regularly. I find it… peaceful, and when you get older, it can be nice, getting a break between days.”

Hearing him talk so casually and almost… softly has you smiling slightly, unable to help it. So he had been sleeping when you knocked on the door, and his hair was all messy, and he looked so cuddly? You don’t know why, but you like that thought.

“You can exist in sunlight, you can consume garlic. Mirrors work for us as well. We don’t age like humans, but we can die if we’re pierced through the heart by something wooden—”

“—You mean staked?”

He looks at your wide, amused eyes and rolls his. “Yeah. Staked. Anyway, you’ll notice that your senses are heightened, and you’ll become stronger too. Not stronger than me, though,” he grins. “As for the blood, you can survive on any.”

“Any?”

What does he mean by that? Human and animal?

“Human, animal, vampire,” he says, the last one surprising you.

You blink, taken aback. “Vampires drink from other vampires?”

“We can. It’s not as common as feeding on humans as it’s mostly… a pretty intimate thing to do.”

“Oh, okay.” 

Thinking about it, you guess you can see why. Having someone so close, feeding on you without the power imbalance of prey versus predator that feeding on humans entails, must feel… intimate. More of a give and take. 

“You’ll need to feed in about a day or two, so you can choose. I have more human blood than just yours as it might be weird to drink your own blood, and I can get animal blood if that feels easier. Or… if you want to, you can drink from me.”

You look at him questioningly. “Didn’t you just say that it’s an intimate thing?”

He shrugs. “Yeah, but if it would make for an easier transition for you, I don’t mind. I’ve taken a lot of blood from you, after all.”

“Okay,” you nod, briefly biting your lip. “I’ll think about it. About all of… this.”

Is death the thing you wanted above all else, or was it to get out of the life you were living? Now that your old life is, in a way, over, you’re not sure. Regardless, there are other worries still plaguing you. You look—almost stare—at his pretty face. 

“What?”

You bite your lip nervously again. “What if you change your mind? I’m assuming this was quite a rushed decision on your part. What if I don’t live up to your expectations? I barely knew how to navigate this world as a human, there’s no way I could… manage on my own as… as a vampire.”

Say you decide to give it a shot; what do you do if he grows tired of you?

“Changing someone is not something we take lightly. We don’t…” he looks around, seemingly searching for the right words. “We don’t change anyone if we’re not prepared to guide them, at least through the first years. Usually, vampires only end up turning their romantic partners, so for most, it means staying together for life. Regardless, it’s a big decision.”

Noticing your wide eyes, Jeongguk smiles and chuckles. “I’m not saying you have to hang around me for the rest of your life, and I won’t ask you to play my wife or anything, but I won’t abandon you.”

It’s surprising enough to hear that vampires not only regularly fall in love with humans but take changing someone so seriously. But you’re even more surprised to hear him use the word ‘wife.’

“Your wife?” you ask, truly bewildered that word was even in his thoughts. “You said vampirism doesn't make you much prettier?”

He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “It doesn’t. But you didn’t need to become prettier anyway.”

“Oh, come on.”

“I’m telling the truth? Don’t you remember what I told you when I carried you home that night?”

‘You’re a pretty girl, you know?’

Of course you remember, but it doesn’t mean it was true.

You roll your eyes. “You were feeling bad for me.”

“Hm,” Jeongguk looks away, thinking. “Okay, do you remember the very first thing I said to you?”

“That you weren’t going to turn me?”

“For sex, yeah. But I said I’d still fuck you.”

The smile he gives you reminds you more of the vampire that took your blood once every fortnight than the one who saved you. You don’t know what to say, and he seems to realize that, his smile turning softer.

“Like I said, I would’ve fucked you because you were pretty even as a human. Also, about luring said humans in? You will not have a problem with that if that’s something you’re interested in. I kinda want to see you do that, actually,” he grins, sending a shiver down your spine. “Hot.”

Jeongguk is sitting spread out on the rented apartment’s low couch, reading the back of a bottle of red wine when you pass him. It’s hot—a lot warmer than what you’re used to from your little hometown—and you sigh as you open the door to the balconet wider and fresh air starts to play with your dress. The weather doesn’t affect you like it used to, but some aspects are still more enjoyable than others. 

“I think I like Rome,” you place your hands on the railing, looking down at the scene two stories below you. It’s just after ten p.m., and people are dining outside the restaurant below you, their happy chatter accompanied by the romantic sound of street musicians. The air is humid, and besides the moonlight, the street is mainly illuminated by lights from the restaurant and surrounding shops.

You hear Jeongguk put the bottle down on the glass coffee table and stand up, something your human ears wouldn’t have picked up.

“We can stay longer if you want,” he offers quietly from right behind you.

Turning around, you let your gaze travel over his white dress shirt, held together by two single buttons—the rest lazily unbuttoned—and exposing most of his drool-worthy chest. He smirks, looking down at you, and you’re hit by how he hasn’t changed that much since you first met him in that alley. You’ve just gotten to see more sides of him.

You hold your breath, carefully reaching your hand out to pinch the fabric of his shirt between your thumb and index finger, pulling a little on it and nodding.

“Then we’ll stay,” he smiles, slowly stepping back and taking your hand softly in his. His skin feels warm against yours, and it’s almost like some sort of electric current courses through you. You grin as he pulls you toward him, moving to the slow and sensual music drifting up from outside.

Jeongguk lifts your hand above your head and twirls you. It makes you smile even wider, and you decide to place your arms loosely around his neck. He doesn’t object, just looks down at you, still smiling. 

One thing you'll never get used to is how handsome he is. Soft, black hair parted across his forehead, dark eyebrows and eyes, and a dimple that pops out when he smiles. One day, you’ll kiss his nose, you promise yourself. He looks so carefree, peering down at you like nothing else really matters; a mindset not too difficult to follow with him.

“How come everything is so… easy?”

He tilts his head, trying to make sense of your words as he places his hands on your waist. “Well… do you feel cared for?”

You think about it. All the new people—vampires—you’ve met so far are very funny and kind. They see you, and they listen to you. Especially Jeongguk’s friends, and even more so, Jeongguk. He’s easy to be around, and he’s been incredibly sweet to you, understanding that you’re going through a big change and that your previous life wasn’t all that great.

So you nod.

“Do you have anything that worries you?” He continues. “A looming anxiety regarding something?”

“No.” Turns out that Jeongguk and all his friends are filthy rich and also very generous, which means that you have no rent to pay, no stuff to buy, or bills to pay. Nor do you have people to impress or time-sensitive achievements to stress over.

Jeongguk’s smile turns extra cheeky. “Do you perhaps… also care a little bit for someone?”

You’d blush if that was something you could do. “You’d like to know, wouldn’t you?”

He chuckles before he turns a little more serious. “Jokes aside, there could be many reasons. Like I said, not feeling lonely or overly anxious surely helps a lot, but also stuff like… the change of scenery and seasons. But also…”

“Also…?”

He looks at you with a searching gaze, as if he’s trying to figure something out. “Tell me, did you ever see someone about how you felt?”

You shake your head.

“So you never got a diagnosis or medication?”

“No.”

“Then, maybe… you weren’t ��only’ sad, and vampirism corrected some chemical imbalance in your brain. It could also explain why things are easier.”

Maybe. You thought that your mother dying was the catalyst for your sadness, and without seeing the point of the world, you got “weirder,” and the few people in your life withdrew. Then it was just you, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t connect with people anymore. But maybe, like he said, it wasn’t ‘only’ feelings. A small part of you wishes you would’ve tried to get help, but a bigger part—although sad for the years you spent suffering—thinks this ending might be better.

He continues to sway your bodies, and you rest your head against his chest. When you left with him three months ago, one month after he changed you, you weren’t entirely certain where things would lead, because despite definitely feeling attracted to him, you didn’t really know him. But as the days pass, you don’t regret it, and you’re pretty sure you’re more than halfway to head over heels. You can’t deny that he gives you butterflies.

Sighing, you catch the scent of his naked skin against your cheek, reminded of something.

“You smell good. I remember thinking that you didn’t smell like anything?”

He laughs as you move your face slowly over his chest and up to his neck, smelling him.

“Do I?”

“Yeah,” you say, breathing him in and closing your eyes. There’s the same notes of laundry detergent, soap, and cologne, but also something unique to him. He doesn’t smell like a human, but… almost. It draws you in, that’s for certain.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders quietly. 

“Not sure,” you answer honestly. It’s turned out to be harder to tell than you imagined.

“Well, if you want it… go for it.”

“Like this?” you ask, pushing on his chest with a smile. He lets you walk him slowly back toward the couch, and when the back of his knees hit the edge, he sinks down onto it. 

“Mhm,” he hums happily.

High on the vampire equivalent of adrenaline, you straddle his lap, only to be caught off guard by his scent again. “No, but really, you smell so good.”

He chuckles. “Vampires who are more… compatible tend to smell good to each other.”

His revelation has you sitting back, curious but almost a little worried. Despite the details of your relationship being... a bit unclear—mostly due to his unwillingness to pressure you, you think—you can't help but want him to like you. “Does that mean that I smell good to you as well then? I mean, I remember that you didn’t like my blood?”

“You smell incredible to me. Almost addictive,” he reveals quietly, softly, resting his hands on your thighs, and you think your human heart would’ve raced. “And about your blood… I lied.”

Though grinning happily, there’s at least a trace of regret in his eyes.

“You lied? About not liking my blood?”

“Yeah. B is actually one of the more highly regarded blood types. I’m also B, but negative.”

You shake your head at him before carefully leaning in. With a soft touch of your lips, you locate the pulsating artery in his neck, gently angling his head away with your hands. Then, as you’ve done regularly for the last months, you pierce his skin with your fangs.

“I’m kinda surprised you still believed I didn’t like your blood,” he continues, though it sounds a little strained, like he’s trying to keep still. “If I didn’t like your blood, I wouldn’t have needed to change my feeding days to the day before you came. Nor would I have tried to attack you.”

You listen to his words, but you’ll have to process them better later because his blood is pretty much the only thing on your mind. His blood and his body. It took you a few times to get over the mental association with blood and drinking it, but now, it’s not something bad. It tastes and feels good, energizing you in a way food just doesn’t anymore. And it’s a chance to bond, making you feel closer to him. 

He likes it too, if his body language is anything to go by. You know he tries to stay still to give you the best chance to get what you need without distractions, but the little… almost purring sound that reverberates from somewhere deep in his chest is hard to miss. As is the way his hips shift almost unnoticeably, but you haven’t spoken about that.

Being smaller and recently changed, you don’t require nearly as much blood as he does, and as soon as you feel the urge filled, you run your tongue over the wound to close it, just like he’s taught you to.

“Good?” he asks when you pull back, and you nod, licking your lips. 

You keep your eyes on his skin, knowing that it only takes a second for the wound to heal but up to two weeks for the scar from another vampire's teeth to fade to nothing. 

“All of the vampires we’ve met, they’ve looked so… amused when they understand I drink from you. Why is that? I get that it’s ‘intimate’ but they were pretty much all couples, weren’t they? Not that we’re… you know…”

You haven’t spoken about that, either, really.

It confused you, more so since you last week stumbled across a local couple smiling very cheekily when they saw the scar on Jeongguk’s neck that he’d made absolutely no effort to conceal.

He laughs. “It’s because only I have marks.”

You look puzzled. Yeah, sure, but you don’t understand why that would be amusing.

He looks at your confused face and continues. “The fact that you drink from me but not I from you usually means that I’ve submitted to you. That I belong to you. Which is not very common when I’m so much older than you. It’s usually the other way around if anything.”

“Oh,” you exclaim quietly, lifting your hand to your neck. “Should I…? Do you… want to feed from me? Cause I’m not sure that I…”

You don’t like the idea of losing blood. You know that Jeongguk has said that as a vampire, you quite literally can’t run out, but you don’t like it. Thinking about someone biting your neck has images from the night you died flashing before your eyes. You don’t remember much,  but you remember being scared and how much it hurt. Surely, it would be different to let him bite you, but… you don’t know. You can’t help but feel like maybe you should? Don’t you kind of owe it to him?

“I want to, of course I do, but not that badly. I get that it’s an uncomfortable concept for you, so that’s why I haven’t brought it up. If you ever feel comfortable enough, we can try, because it’s very hot, but otherwise, it doesn’t matter.”

You lower your hand, smiling carefully down at him. He runs his hands over your thighs softly.

“So, you’re really just… ancient?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah? You’re literally older than Jesus?”

He rolls his eyes, still smiling.

“Jokes aside, doesn’t it get boring? You were kinda grumpy when I first met you.”

“Truth be told, it does. I’ve seen everything, mostly even many times over. But getting to see everything with you is like getting to experience it for the first time all over again.”

“That’s kinda… cheesy,” you chuckle, but you can’t deny that it makes you feel warm inside. “Yuqi said you probably needed a change of scenery as well.”

“So what if it’s cheesy? It’s true," he grins, and it's your turn to roll your eyes. "And, yeah, she might’ve been right. I guess vampires get lonely too sometimes.”

Although he's still smiling, you can't help but hurt a little, thinking about him feeling lonely too.

“So then, what’s next?" you ask. "When do we leave for Portugal?”

“Depends on when you want to. I’ll just tell Taehyung we’ll meet them later. As for now, you know Fontana di Trevi?”

“Yeah?”

“Wanna take a dip?”

“What? Isn’t it pretty shallow? And probably… illegal?”

“What are they gonna do? Stop us?” He smiles a wide, happy smile, his white fangs almost glimmering in the romantically dimmed light.

<previous | next> author's note: i hope you liked it!! please reblog if you did <3<3<3

[adobe-outdesign]

Have you reviewed Ekans and Arbok yet?

Ekans is, shock of all shocks, a snake; probably a rattlesnake of some kind given the tail, though it also looks a bit like a ring-necked snake given the markings.

Visually, it's a least fairly striking. The purple makes for a nice base color and reflects its poison typing, while the high-contrast yellow neck, tail, underbelly and eyes compliment it well. I like the eyes a lot too, which are stylized to have a single vertical line as a pupil.

I will say that in some earlier art all of the ring on its body were yellow, and honestly I prefer it like that. It gives there a reason to have the otherwise random lines (Arbok has them but there it's more of a texture so it's not as odd), and it makes the design all the bolder. I do think it's a bit much combined with the underbelly, but I would've just dropped that entirely in favor of the stripes; it's curled up most of the time, so it's not like you see that element a lot.

Also, I think the mouth is a bit weird; no fangs (not that all snakes have fangs mind you), round shape, and a weirdly human tongue instead of a snake-like one. It doesn't need to have all three, but I do wish it had at least one of those elements, as the shape just looks strange and it comes across almost as more of a worm.

Unfortunately it doesn't have much going on with it conceptually yet, which isn't a huge deal given the design is decent. That said, I do wish they could've figured out a way to work the idea of a false face into this design as well, like if it had two false eye dots on the back of its head or something

also side note, what the fuck was going on with its early backsprite

Arbok immediately differentiates itself from its pre-evo by becoming more of a cobra and adding a theme by having a giant face face on the underside of its hood. This is a nod to how some cobras have vaguely face-like markings on their hood (though usually on the back instead of the front):

The face adds an immediate theme and something to remember it by, and it's a pretty neat design too: two orange eyes with yellow eye spots and a black outline along with a black mouth and black angry eyebrows. However, the biggest disappointment here is that for a few gens, Arbok was stated to have up to six different face patterns. We even have examples of some of them:

For some reason all of the different face variations were dropped around I think gen 4, and nowadays we always get the same face pattern. This was such a fun idea and it added a lot to the line, so why drop it? It's not like we haven't had Pokemon with different patterns before (Alcremie, Vivillon, etc.).

Anyway, face aside, the rest of the design is good too. The body is simple so it doesn't distract from the hood, and I really like the shape of the head and the way it has entire rows of teeth instead of just fangs (some early art, like what's shown above, does show it with two sets of fangs, but they seem to have decided against that). I just wish the colors were bolder, as this purple seems washed out. Some of its sprites show it as being much more vibrant, so I don't know why they didn't stick with that.

Anyway, a pretty decent line. Ekans is decent even if it's lacking in concept, and Arbok has a pretty neat thing going on with its hood, only hampered by GameFreak's insistence on not giving it different forms.

As a side note, this line seems like it would perfect for a mega. It's not unfinished as-is or anything, but it feels like there's a ton of potential for more cool designs here.

[tmnt-soup]

I am convinced that frida is a yellow blotched map turtle, also known as a yellow blotched sawback here is my reasoning

- LOOK at the eye markings between the two that is so similar

- freshwater turtle like leo don and raph

- found in the same general areas that you can find red eared sliders, ornate box, alligator snappers, and spiny softshells, so it makes sense that drax would be able to get them all in vaguely one spot assuming he just grabbed some turtles off the ground

-primarily eats bugs which is just delightfully ironic considering shes w big mama

-less of an actual reason but the spikey spine stuff would be fun to draw and adds a nice visual difference from the others(mikey specifically bc their silhouettes are p similar rn), but now also has something in common w don and raph !!

[cemoras27-but-writing-this-time]

Red's Robin. pt 1.

@im-totally-not-an-alien-2, hi I finished the first chapter :), spent way too long on it but Im happy at how it came out and fully intend on making more

@faeriekit since you were apart of that little conversation I assume you wanted to be tagged to, sorry if not!

Also the formatting may be off at the end, typing like texting is hard! I dont know how humans type other than me! And I've seen Tim typing like he doesn't know how to spell in fics before!

I hope you all Have a Great Day!!

Ao3:(to be added)

Tim sighs as he looks at his window sill. The small orange and gray bird that had perched on it stared at him through the closed window. Almost like it was asking him to let it in. But that's crazy! It's just a little bird, it probably just thinks he’ll feed it and that's why it's looking at him. But he’s not Damian and won’t adopt a wild animal the second he sees it.

It pecks at the window, and stares. Again it pecks.

Tap, tap, tap. It continues as if it's knocking. Tim turns back to his laptop, the Riddler is out of Arkham and has been suspiciously quiet. 

Tap, tap, tap. Tim doesn’t look. Tap, tap, pause. Taptaptaptap taptap tap. The noise doesn’t stop. Tim swings around and closes the curtains. And the noise persists, until it pauses. Breathing out a sigh Tim can finally make some progre-

BANG. The window shakes.

‘Did… did it just fly into the window? Can’t birds die like that?’ Tim peeks around the curtain to see the small robin-like bird shaking its head and turn to fly off. Only for it to slam body first into the window again. It takes a moment before it flies off. Tim opens the curtains and sees it quickly flying towards the closed reinforced window. He's able to open the window before it can kill itself and it rams into his chest instead. Which painfully sends him careening back onto his chair.

‘Ouch… it hits harder than expected…’ He looked down at the small bird that had moved down onto his lap, now that it's closer he notices that he has never seen a bird- robin(?) like this one. Its body is a light bluish-gray and slender with an orange head with little yellow markings next to its eyes, with tiny black legs with three talons. It stood barely a foot tall and its tail had odd white markings that vaguely resembled an arrow fletch. 

The bird adjusted itself and opened its wings, showing a white underwing, and flapped them until it was hovering next to Tim’s face. Small black eyes stare into blue.

“‘Chling!” it chirped and swooped up to land on his head, where it immediately started to peck at his hair. ‘Is it preening me? I thought birds need to trust a person to do that,’ Tim thought, his hair getting thrown into his eyes.

“Hey, stop that. Get off!” he gently batted at the bird trying to dislodge it from its roosting place, getting a stern peck in return. He looks at his laptop. He could just keep working but the bird would be a distraction. Damian might look at the bird, he had more information about animals than Tim did. But did he want to talk to Damian? Not really. He really needed to continue to track the Riddler, he's too much of a threat to be left unattende-

His stomach growls. The bird’s stomach growls. In a weird serenade the organs announce their mutual hunger. 

‘When was the last time I ate? When did the bird eat last?’ Tim thought, overwhelming hunger tearing at his abdomen and dizziness makes itself known. Ok snack then he can look into the bird and hopefully find the Riddler. His minifridge is empty, he knows that but still checks it -yep still empty, so he has to go to the kitchen. He grabs his phone from his desk and checks it.

9:49 -  Friday, June 2 - 26% battery

He still has about an hour and a half until he needs to get ready for patrol. He closes his bedroom door behind him quietly and pulls up the search bar.

‘What do robins eat?’

He's walking down the stairs, the search engine shows several articles, mostly about the most recent spotting of Nightwing, Red Robin, and Robin outside Batburger with pictures showing the three with the fast food bags. Cass was there too but nobody saw her.

He adds bird to the search

‘Mealworms, insects, and berries. Steph ate the last of the strawberries.’ Tim reaches the Kitchen, thankfully no one is in there. The bird finally flutters off of his head and onto the kitchen island and starts hopping around. There’s no other ‘berry’ fitting fruits either. “Sorry little guy, I don't think we have anything you're interested in. Alfie would kill us if we brought any bugs in.” He speaks to the room and grabs his preferred snack, an Alfred made orange-cranberry muffin, and turns to the island. 

The bird is pecking at the banana stand. Tim had forgotten about the bananas, Alfred only gets them to brown for banana bread. Everyone besides Dick hates the texture, and the rest of the kitchen is always stocked with something else to eat.

“Oh I guess there is something.” he sets his muffin down and rips one off the bunch and peels it as far as he’s willing. He wipes his hand against his pants and continues with his muffin. 

The bird hops onto the yellow fruit and sticks its beak into the soft insides. And they eat quietly together. Tim watches as the bird snips the sides of the peel to open it up more. He pulls up the camera app on his phone and takes a picture of it when it lifts its head up. He then goes to google. 

‘Orange and gray bird’

‘Orange and blue gray bird’

‘Robin species’

‘Robin BIRD species’

‘Small birds species’

‘Thrush bird species’

‘Finch species’

‘Bird with orange heads and gray bodies;

‘Birds with white underwings and orange heads’

‘Birds with white stripes on tail with orange heads’

Nothing he searches comes close to the bird in front of him. He sighs and pulls up his messages, and throws away the muffin wrapper.

Demon Child:

lol lokat tis thig

Would you type properly, Drake?

no u

[Image of fletchling]

Unlike you Drake I do type properly.

What kind of avian is that? I do not recognize it.

Idk im ak u

Drake is that our kitchen? Did you let a wild animal into our home?

It was hungy 🥺

Aldo no one eafs the babfas anyway

I am aware of our family’s dislike of bananas Drake.

That does not excuse nor explains why there is a wild animal in our kitchen!

It wan ted insid

Kept hittting my windo

What did you use as bait?

My Good Looks

Drake.

IDK man

It jst wanted in

I think it’s hurt

Didn want you bothefing B over a ded borb outdid

So i open d the window

An it flewa in and won t leab

I won’t be able to look it over until I get home.

And that will not be for another hour. Keep it inside. I will look at it before I go with Father for patrol.

K

At this point the bird had finished with it’s snack and Tim had thrown away it’s peel. It perched on his shoulder looking at his messages to Damian. Tim took another picture of the bird on his shoulder and sent it to Damian and went back to his room. 

If anything, the bird seemed to like him, and he could use that to annoy Damian until he got home.

[deathmoth-blog]

The name death's-head hawkmoth refers to any of three moth species of the genus Acherontia (Acherontia atropos, Acherontia styx and Acherontia lachesis). The former species is found throughout Africa and in Europe, the latter two are Asian; most uses of the common name refer to the African species. These moths are easily distinguishable by the vaguely human skull-shaped pattern of markings on the thorax. They are large nocturnal moths with brown and yellow or orange coloring, and all three species are fairly similar in size, coloration and life cycle.

The African death's-head hawkmoth (Acherontia atropos) is the largest moth in the British Isles (though not in Africa), with a wingspan of 13 cm (5 in); it is a powerful flier, having sometimes been found on ships far from land. The forewings are a mottled dark brown and pale brown, and the hind wings are orangey-buff with two narrow dark bands parallel with the hind margin. The abdomen is a similar orangey-brown, with a broad, dark dorsal stripe. The most notable feature is a patch of short yellowish hairs on the thorax that gives the impression of depicting a human skull. It is a striking insect, but is seldom seen because it flies late in the night.

A 2020 study describes how, when viewed upside-down, Acherontia atropos creates an illusion of a head with eyes: the mark on its thorax likened to a human skull is the "nose", with the skull's eye-sockets resembling nostrils. Spots on its forewings can be seen as eyes, and various other markings and features can be interpreted as ears, muzzle and lips. This illusion is also present in Agrius convolvuli (convolvulus hawk-moth) and five other species, with the study author suggesting that the function of the illusion of an eyed head is "almost certainly to deter, distract or otherwise deceive predators".

The caterpillar of the African death's-head hawkmoth is also sturdy and somewhat variable in colour, being some shade of buff, green or brown, with seven diagonal blue lines. At the rear is a curved, thorn-like horn. It can attain a length of 5 to 6 in (13 to 15 cm). The other two species of death's-head hawkmoth similarly have three larval color forms: typically, green, brown and yellow. The pupa is stout and reddish-brown, and is formed 8 to 10 in (20 to 25 cm) under the ground in a chamber the size of a large hen's egg.

These moths have several unusual features. All three species have the ability to emit a loud chirp if irritated. The sound is produced by inhaling and expelling air, which vibrates the epipharynx like an accordion, often accompanied by flashing of the brightly colored abdomen in a further attempt to deter predators. The chirp of the death's head hawkmoth takes approximately one-fifth of a second. A study by National Geographic found that the epipharynx was originally built to suck up honey, but later evolved to produce sound.

Adults of all three species are commonly observed raiding beehives of different species of honey bee; A. atropos only invades colonies of the well-known western honey bee, Apis mellifera, and feeds on both nectar and honey. They can move about in hives without being disturbed because they mimic the scent of the bees and are not recognised as intruders. If their disguise is discovered, the moth's thick waxy cuticle helps to protect it against stings.

Leaves of the potato plant contain calystegines, a group of polyhydroxy alkaloids, which are toxic. The larva of A. atropos feeding on potato foliage accumulates these alkaloids.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Madness

Summary: Dean wants EVERYONE to know that you belong to him.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Smut. Smut. All smut. Rough sex. Public sex. Brief, slightly degrading talk, Unprotected P in V sex, voyeurism mentioned, breeding kink if you REALLY squint, possessive!dean.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

A/N: I saw this tiny post from @b3autyfuldisast3r and immediately this smutty little idea came into my head, (even though, I changed the idea a bit) So I thought I'd share my depravity with all of you. 😁 I wrote this quick, so there may be lots of mistakes. Sorry!

The beautiful divider at the bottom was created by @talesmaniac89

Masterlist || Tag Lists

It's madness. Throbbing, pulsing, slick and dripping madness.

The glass is cold against your bare skin, you know people can see you; you're in plain view. Height doesn't hide you - you're in a ground level room. Darkness doesn't cloak you - the yellow glow from the light in your room burns bright, and easily illuminates your writhing, shuddering body to the parking lot and street beyond.

The curtains offer no protection, spread wide on either side of you, and you know he's beckoning the world forward to watch him consume you, destroy you. Dean wants them to see how he owns you, wants them to watch him shatter you into molecules of pure bliss.

He's stripped you completely naked, while he stays in his jeans and t-shirt. He's not the focus of attention. He doesn't want them to see him. He only wants them to watch you - to see what he owns, to be jealous of his prize.

The glass presses at your back and you can feel the eyes on you. You know you should feel ashamed, embarrassed, but you don't. You can't. There's no room left in your body for anything but burning, pulsating pleasure.

He pushes you harder against the window as his head dips to pull your nipple into his mouth, sucking it hard, biting it, marking you. His hand is buried in your cunt, slamming all four fingers deep inside you over and over, forcing your heated screams to echo through the thin single pane of glass and out to the people listening and watching, rapt and rabid.

"Please…" You whisper through a hoarse throat. "Dean, please. I need to come."

Dean shakes his head. "Not yet, baby." He orders you, even as all four fingers press hard against the spongy spot deep inside you, making you scream again and squeeze your thighs tight around his hand.

"We're gonna put on a proper show for these people first."

With that, he whips you around so your heaving, sweat-slicked body is facing out towards the group that's gathered a little ways from your room. You don't know who they are, other guests? Truckers parked in the lot overnight? With the light behind you and all of them out in the dark, you can only make out vague shapes, but they can see every line of you.

When Dean enters you abruptly, slamming himself home in one hard thrust, they can see the way you grab onto the curtains on either side of you, holding on for dear life. They watch your face spasm in pleasure and pain as his massive cock rips you in two while simultaneously doling out thick, heavy, pounding waves of ecstasy.

He slams into you, deep and almost violent again and again, urging you on. "Fucking take it, baby. Every inch. Let them see what a good little cockslut you are. Show them how I own this pussy. Tell them."

He slams into you again, hard enough to raise your feet an inch off the ground. "Fucking, scream it out! Who owns this pussy?"

"You." You croak out.

But Dean cracks his palm down over your ass, making it jiggle. "Louder. They can't hear you. Who owns this fucking pussy?" He shouts, reaching around your body to lightly spank the soft mound.

"You!" You scream out as he slides in a finger from the same hand to rub against your clit.

"Say it again!" He shouts harshly, his voice all growl and grit, and you feel your slick running down your thighs. "Who does this pussy belong to?"

"You!" You scream out as he slams his cock into you, perfectly hitting your g-spot and making your eyes roll back in your head. "Fuck, Dean, it's yours, yours. I'm yours."

His big hand wraps around your throat and he pulls your head back so he can bite the hinge of your jaw and then down your neck.

"That's right, sweetheart." He whispers and then growls, "Mine."

He raises his hand from your throat to clutch your jaw and twist your face towards him. You can still smell your arousal on his thick fingers as they press into your skin.

He ravages your mouth, sucking on your tongue and bottom lip in turn. His fingertips dig into the soft flesh of your cheeks as he holds you in place.

Your entire body is shaking as you fight to hold off your climax. As Dean slams into your sweet spot again, his hard middle finger swirling mercilessly against your clit, you begin to unashamedly beg him for relief.

"Please, Dean, please."

Dean's hard body softens against yours and his lips become pliant and teasing as they skitter along the curve of your shoulder.

"Okay, baby." Dean shifts to wrap one arm around your waist and sets his lips just behind your ear. "You can let go now."

He slams into you one more time before the earth around you shatters and narrows to nothing more than Dean's lips, hands, warmth, the press of his fingers and the slow slide of his cock through your tight channel, the scent of his sweat and the gushing heat of his come as he spills deep and thick into your womb.

As you come down, you turn to jelly in his arms, bones liquefied, and Dean pulls out of your body and holds you tight against him as he slowly closes the curtains, shutting out the witnesses to your utter annihilation.

He scoops you up and you wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

"You're all mine, my beautiful girl. All mine." He says as he lays you out on the wide mattress and quickly strips away his clothes.

He moves over you, and his flesh is warm and comforting.

He presses his mouth to yours, gentle now and coaxing. "Tell me again, sweetheart. Tell me you belong to me."

But it's not a demand this time, its a question.

"Always." You promise and Dean smiles before he dips his mouth back to yours and the madness builds again.

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@lyarr24

@deans-spinster-witch

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@akshi8278

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2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only

@saikosheadcanons

@lgranger67

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@sunshineandwings86

@kazsrm67

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4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

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@fanfic-n-tabulous

[redux-iterum]

Hi I have a request if you’ve got the energy/time!

I’m thinking of an art project and making char designs, and I’d like to have more to look off, as I try and make them.

If you’re able, can you give more detailed write up/designs/ visuals ((height chart?) for some of these chars (listed in order or importance for potential art project) Firepaw/heart, Tigerclaw, Bluestar, Goldenflower, Lionface, Graypaw/stripe, Ravenpaw/wing, Redtail ?

No pressure at all, don’t need to do all the cats or any, something as simple as “they look like canon but this is changed” can help!

Tentative thoughts are focusing on Fire’s relation to Tiger and Golden, and the politics and how that changed the emotions!

Thank you!!

Sure thing! This is mostly just how I see them – I try to leave it a little vague for readers’ interpretations, even if I have my own idea for what everyone looks like. I do encourage you to take some liberties as you’d like to, of course.

Fireheart: The shortest of the cats described here, and a little short even for the average house cat. Canonically to this series, he’s part Somali, so he’s a richer ginger than usual and whatever tabby stripes he has are faint, with his back being darker than his underside. His eyes are a verdant green and have a brightness to them that never seems to go away. His fur is short and smooth and he’s always been skinny, but thanks to regular exercise, he’s quite wiry and is stronger than he looks. He has a perpetual babyface, even with the harshness of the wild, which adds to his charisma.

Tigerclaw: Hulking and just a bit taller than his mate, making him the largest cat in this list. His shoulders are abnormally broad for a cat – almost doglike, really – and his tail is thick even without the long hair on it. His eyes are amber, and this, combined with his hard, haggard face and dark brown coat, makes him look quite intimidating. He’s got huge paws with claws that are just a bit too long to completely stay sheathed, even when withdrawn. His stripes are thick and black, standing out even with his darker brown coloring, and his underside is paler, though he doesn’t have any white markings.

Bluestar: Tall, thin and blue-grey with pale yellow eyes, her face is less hard than her Clanmates’ despite her age (which is shown by her gradually greying muzzle). She is long-legged and the fur on her body is sleek, longer than you’d expect without being overly furry. A long, thin scar marks behind both of her shoulders, and it’s hard to see unless you’re behind her and her fur isn’t draped over it. She has a melancholy face, her ears are longer than usual and she has a look of perpetual weariness barely concealed with regality. I imagine she’s not the most muscled cat in the world, but she’s got strength in her body just as her apprentice does.

Goldenflower: Enormous in height and fluffiness. Her eyes are nearly the same shade of gold as her coat (just darker), which has spotted markings instead of the regular tabby. She’s barely shorter than Tigerclaw, and though her paws could be described as “soft”, they are quite large. Her chest and belly have a broad streak of white on them, and her face is gentle and maternal. She’s got a general look of comfort and sweetness – it feels like she would be an excellent pillow, and be more than happy to provide that service.

Lionface: He would be best described as a “harder” version of his sister. He’s got regular tabby markings, though faint, and his face is easily likened to an actual lion’s – long and grave. He’s big in all aspects, and his fur is long especially around his neck, creating a mane. He’s got green eyes, which I personally see as a big dark and dull; certainly not as vibrant as Fireheart’s. He notably does not have scars on his face, though he most likely has some hidden behind his fur across his body (this is a point of vanity for him). He’s as tall as Goldenflower, but he feels spikier and less comforting. I would say he’s the square to her circle, if that makes sense.

Greystripe: He’s a big boy! He’s just a bit shorter than Goldenflower and Lionface, but his width makes up for that small discrepancy. Bulky shoulders and chest (for a cat, of course), wide paws, puffy, thick fur that makes him look even bigger, so on and so forth. He’s about medium grey, and his tabby marking (which I think of as classic) are nearly black, with a broad stripe down his spine. I feel like he’s got a dark tail-tip, though he has no white marking. His face is round, but it gets harder and harder as he ages, until he’s as haggard as everyone else as a senior warrior. He definitely is plump, though not too overweight, and his eyes are a stark, bright yellow.

Ravenwing: Actually described him here!

Redtail: Probably the second shortest, though he still has a good deal of height on Fireheart. He’s a dark ginger tabby; classic, of course, which I imagine would have such broad stripes that he’s more red than ginger. All four paws are white, with the back feet having that white stretch a bit higher than the front. Long body for sure, to make up for his shortness (again, he’s just smaller compared to ThunderClan’s usual – he’s still bigger than the average cat). He’s got yellow eyes that edge on amber – just as warm and friendly as the rest of him.

Hope this helped!

[thebelugawhalefriend]

Connection: Kris x Reader (P2)

CW: Y/N insert, Gender Neutral reader, Slow Burn (?)

Part One

Please Note: This will end up being a Kris x Reader! However, this IS a slow burn, so romantic elements may not show up until later. Thank you!

"So, if you've been watching us for a while, you gotta know the future." Susie nudges me for an answer.

"Not really. This is all new to me." Keeping up a conversation is one thing, but doing that while traversing an unfamiliar dark world? Yeah, not really an easy feat. First, we wandered through an oddly alluring wooden door painted green. Now that we're in, all I can really make out is a long yet familiar feeling hallway. The kind you'd find in a distant childhood home. Pictures of family hung from the soft maple walls, the floors creaked every few steps, and the scent of vanilla wafted through.

"Smells like..." Ralsei tries to pick up on the scent, but Susie is quick to bolt down the hallway, "CAKE!!"

"WAIT! Susie!" Ralsei is quick to give chase, both of them leaving me to wander the hall. Running felt like the right thing to do- I badly want to bolt after them! But the sense of home slows me down to a sensible walk. There isn't really any rush, is there? A soft melody plays through the corridor of someone else's hall of memory.

It... Even reminds me of a familiar home. A stable one.

It took but a few minutes to arrive at a three way split. "Are we really doing split off stories again?" I shake my head. As if the last chapter didn't spend enough time away from the main cast... All three have different footprints down their halls. The left has tiny hoofprints decorating the floor, the middle has frantic boot marks, while the right looks smeared. As if someone had struggled through.

I try the left path first. That's probably where Ralsei went, right?

"Ralsei? Bud, where are-"

"Chu!"

!!!

Battle music began- but no battle screen shows up?! All I see is a pair of eyes on a vaguely bunny shaped dust cloud. Despite what size dust should realistically be, it's just about as tall as me! How am I supposed to fight this thing?

"I-I'll... Defend?"

I try my best to say my action and cover my face with my arms. And yet, nothing truly shows up to indicate I've taken action. Rather, the grey cloud of rabbit makes its move. Removing a carrot shaped duster, it reaches right over my head and-

THUNK!

...

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Connection [FOUND]

...

The feeling of space isn't nearly as cold as I thought it would be. It's like being inside a big warm tub of water without drowning. I can't see much around me, mostly blues and dark purples swarming around and a distant blackened figure.

"Are you... There?"

My voice isn't my own. No words even leave my mouth. And yet, as if they were a psychic, two hesitant ruby red eyes look up on the other side.

"What are you doing here?" A raspy, masculine voice answers with their own question.

"What do you mean? I thought this was my dream!"

"You aren't dreaming. You died."

A cold fear runs through my body. Died? But- I just barely got to live! I haven't even started my real life outside of this game! I want to scream, cry, and plead with any God out there to hear me... But nothing musters up my body to act. And so, the figure continues.

"This is where I first met you... When you took over my life. If you had ANY sense, you would have never taken interest in me!" The figure stands from their spot, peering down towards me from their distance. Now it's crystal clear- That yellow and green striped shirt, that brown hair...

"And now you're dead. But, not really, are you? You actually get chances to come back. Again and again. So when you come back..." They take a few steps closer just to look over me.

"D o n ' t f i n d m e."

Connection [TERMINATED]

"(Y/N)...!" I can barely hear the soothing voice calling to me. "(Y/N)! Are you okay?" I'm almost there. Almost able to answer...

"(Y/N)!"

"I'm here-! I'm-" I sit right up, feeling my body all over. That's... Right. I AM here. Alive again. But, I don't remember pressing on...?

"Thank goodness you're okay! I found you being eaten by a dust bunny, but... They don't exactly HAVE stomachs... Somehow, it did leave a nasty mark on your head. When I used a healing prayer, it left... A scar. I apologize for that-"

Before he can even finish, I pull him in for a tight and shaky hug. Whether it was my own choice or Ralsei's quick thinking, I can actually get another chance. Find out just where Kris is and find my way out of here. If a dust bunny can kill me in one blow, I hate to think about what could happen later...

[blood-darkened-moon]

Alfred, Alexia, and the Dragonfly

The infamous video of Alfred and Alexia torturing a dragonfly and feeding it to the ants can be found twice on Rockfort Island. The first time, you see it in the room with the Lugers and then again in Alfred’s office as the startup of his PC. Of course, it has a deeply person meaning to Alfred. We know about his obsession with his sister, and Alexia is in there as well. Maybe the video is the only one with her or the last one that was taken before her cryogenic sleep. It makes sense that Alfred would hold dear something like this. But is it just about Alexia, or is there more to it? After all, we even have to watch it twice.

The twins do not talk the entire time and barely interact during the video. The only noteworthy interaction happens during the last scene, in which Alfred and Alexia share a knowing gaze. The way they look at each other makes it clear that there is more to the whole scene than what meets the eye. It had a deeper meaning, which only they could understand. A secret they share with each other. Words are not necessary.

When I first played Code Veronica X, I assumed the video mainly existed to show the cruel and twisted nature of the twins, while it also foreshadowed what Alfred would become. But after replaying the game last year, I changed my opinion. The video isn’t about Alfred and Alexia’s general cruelty or torturing of defenseless creatures. The content represents something more personal to them - their revenge on Alexander.

It was never said when the video was recorded, but the twins aren’t small children anymore. Based only on their appearance, I would estimate them to be between 10 and 12 years old. Now, considering the content of the video, I think it was recorded after Alfred discovered the truth about their origin and after they came up with a revenge plan as the earliest possible date. However, it is more likely that they had already executed their plan some time before.

Let’s take a closer look. First of all, the visual language. The ants symbolize Alfred and Alexia. Alexia sees herself as an ant queen and refers to Alfred as a soldier ant. The dragonfly is Alexander. It is more obvious for Alexia’s third form, but Alexander’s mutated form resembles a dragonfly too. He has three appendages on his back, similarly arranged like three of four wings of a dragonfly. Additionally, these appendages are long and thin, like insect legs. In Darkside Chronicles, he even uses them to move around. Also, Alexander’s real legs are bound together with the rug, which makes his lower body look vaguely like the elongated abdomen of the insect. The belts even give it a segmented appearance.

The last similarity isn’t related to the real animal but to an item. To activate the self-destruct system, you have to assemble a dragonfly key. On the underside of this key is a prominent red jewel in the middle of its thorax, similar to Alexander’s exposed heart.

The dragonfly in the video is rather large. It has a blue abdomen with black markings and a yellow thorax. I tried to find out what dragonfly species we see there and found three possible candidates. One is the green hawker (Aeshna viridis), another is the southern migrant hawker (Aeshna affinis), and the last one is the emperor dragonfly (Anax imperator). (I’m not a dragonfly expert, though. Maybe there are other ones that fit better.)

The abdomens of the green hawker and southern migrant hawker are also blue, the thorax is yellowish-green, and they have black markings on their bodies. The emperor dragonfly has an apple-green thorax rather than a yellow one, but it would fit the other criteria. Other dragonfly species with a similar color palette have either more black markings, differently colored spots on the abdomen, a different body shape, or are too small. In all three cases, only the males have this coloration. The females are green or yellowish green instead of blue. Selecting a male dragonfly specifically could be another reference to Alexander. As for the emperor dragonfly and the southern migrant hawker, contrary to the green hawker, they also inhabit Great Britain, which delivers another connection to Alexander. And while Alexander is, of course, only an earl, not an emperor, an emperor dragonfly could still refer in a wider sense to his peer status.

From left to right: green hawker (male), southern migrant hawker (male), emperor dragonfly (male).

The general events of the video reflect what happened to Alexander. Only Alfred interacts with the dragonfly. He was also the one who initiated the revenge plot after discovering the truth about himself and Alexia, as well as the one who suffered subjectively more under his father. Alexia stays passive the whole time and only watches her brother, while in real life, she is the one who has carried out the experiments, not Alfred. However, even if she does not join her brother here, Alexia still contributes by providing an instrument to execute the allegorical revenge - her ants (and the virus in reality).

Instead of simply killing the insect, Alfred rips out its wings, making it incapable of flying away. Like the dragonfly, Alexander was still alive when he met his fate. The twins tranquilized their father before Alexia injected him with the virus, which caused his transformation. Afterward, Alexander’s confinement continued, and he was chained for years in agony, probably awaiting his death if he was still capable of having coherent thoughts.

The dragonfly’s death is not in vain. Feeding the insect to the ants serves a purpose. The ants can feast on it, and the colony can grow. Alexander’s life wasn’t wasted either. Alexia directed Alfred’s revenge plans from simply killing their father to using him for research purposes. Their “useless father” could contribute for once to Alexia’s research and the Ashford family. Even though the experiment was a failure, Alexia was still able to use the data she required from it for her benefit.

Why all the effort with the cryptic symbolism? Alexander was a terrible father. Probably not intentional, but this isn’t an excuse. He took the childhood of the twins for the sake of his own ambitions. He used Alexia to fulfill what he could not achieve and disregarded Alfred for not being as intelligent as his sister. Finding out that they were the result of a genetic experiment was the final straw, especially for Alfred. Their father then got what he deserved, according to them. Alfred hated Alexander with a passion. It must have been a great feeling to get rid of him, and to celebrate it, he (maybe Alexia too) wanted a keepsake. Direct photos or videos of their father were out of the question. Alfred even wrote in his diary that they have to be careful so that Harman (their butler) doesn’t discover what has happened to Alexander. The dragonfly video works well. It is cryptic enough that no one could understand its meaning without more background knowledge. People who see it randomly would assume it is a disturbing and slightly eerie home video. Alfred and Alexia, on the other hand, know exactly what it is about. It’s so important to Alfred because it does not only show Alexia but also their victory over Alexander. The insects are nothing more than involuntary actors. The real dragonfly and what is happening to it is secondary. The symbolic meaning behind the dragonfly’s death struggle holds significance.

Some notes as a closure that didn’t fit in the rest of the text: What makes the video so creepy, except for the circumstances you find it in, is the twins’ acting. Without them and out of context, the dragonfly video wouldn’t even be that unsettling if you consider some facts. The video was recorded in the Antarctic base. Dragonflies do not inhabit Antarctica. This means the dragonfly was bred there. The twins did not randomly catch it for the purpose of torture. What’s the purpose of breeding dragonflies? I assume it’s for (virus) research. We know that Umbrella performed experiments on other invertebrates. So, if dragonflies are bred in the lab anyway, why not use some as a protein source for the ants as well? More common insects for feeding ants would be mealworms and meal beetles, house crickets, flies and fly larvae, roaches, and plant lice, though. Also, dragonflies are predators and attack everything they can overpower, including other dragonflies. And unlike ants, they can fly. It makes sense to remove the wings first to prevent it from flying away or attacking the ants. Sure, ripping out its wings and not killing it first is still cruel, but at least the ants will take care of this soon.

[boyswhowawa]

Artificer Design!!

Or at least me working on it!!

This is the last drawing I did, and I think it really shows off the design well!!!! I really love this design I came up with, and it's with heavy inspiration from @snickerdoodlesart, so a bit more on that, and the design! under the cut

First things first, the reason I chose to take inspiration from Snickerdoodles' design is, because it's just super fucking rad and gender, ajsd;flkkjas;fkldjadkl;sfja

HOWEVER, I understand completely if taking inspiration like this is not okay, and I would be fine with deleting this design and restarting should you say so, Snickerdoodles, genuinely

regardless, some fun stuff!

first things first, I did some studies of Snickerdoodles' design, just simple ones, because I wanted to figure out what it was that I really felt was so like... fantastic about it???

(the answer ended up being "god everything comes together so well, the shapes and the dynamics of the scars and how the explosive things interact with it all just make for such a wonderful design that is like, the PURE energy of the character it comes from, in such a sincere way that I feel like this IS the character in every facet of what they could be")

but what I learned was that like, I wanted to try to have fun with the scars! so that's what I went for!

So then I started sketching, and I had this idea with the face

I wanted the eye scar to be like, totally bright similarly to Snickersdoodles' (admittedly a lot of the face scar comes from snickerdoodles...)

but I knew with some bits *around* the eye I wanted to have these extra little cuts, that sort of just... idk i like doing cheek markings and I thought this was a creative way to do it!! also the eyebrow is just three lines that are sometimes meshed together<3

I really really liked this face, so I keep it going forward

this is the next sketch I did, to figure out where I wanted the scars to be placed!!

this is kind of where I slightly decided I wanted Arti's head kind of hunched forward at all times, big huncho boyo, she's great

I also wanted just, a BIG burst spot on their tail, and like...

then I was like "oh i'm gonna finish this sketch actually"

then I--- inked on the wrong layer. aj;sdlkfja;klsdfjakl;j

so it got stuck like this and I couldn't do anything about it....

I think when I do color my arti properly again, I wanna have it lean over to a reddish dark purple rather than this

also i think the cherry bomb thing being like woven into the spear cloth was too much, and doesn't really work for arti's bomb spears ?

i just messed up a lot, basically

Oh! Also this is where I was like "oh I can put extra little light spots in Arti's scars...."

then I did this to sort of vaguely show what an explosion from Arti might look like, or more accurately, Artificer 'Igniting', rather than just doing bursts, I imagine this Arti revving up and just being extremely hot for a while, letting out bursts of energy still, but not able to do it as easily from a neutral, unignited state

this was SO fun to do, using pink and yellow is really fun when i'm trying to do something with strong energy

this also is where I feel I figured out everything I felt I needed to still figure out with the design, the scar placements, the scar styles, the shapes I wanted, etc. etc.

and then finally, I did a sort of pseudo ref for Arti!

and while I am super happy with this, and super proud

more importantly than that, I want to be sure that this is *okay* with Snickerdoodles, it wouldn't be right of me to just, steal things from your design for my own sake, and it's not like I'm starving for design ideas, I can probably think something else up if I try hard enough, so there'd be no harm done, and if you're at all uncomfortable with me taking inspiration like this, just let me know as soon as you can

[icefang100]

I cannot for the life of me draw humans, so I’ve made some anthro designs for the Mechanisms crew!

In rows from right to left, these are Jonny as a Bengal tiger, Nastya as a gyrfalcon, Ashes as a black kite, Brian as a mouflon, Ivy as a barn owl, the Toy Soldier as a maned wolf, Tim as a coyote, Raphaella as a golden eagle, and Marius as a red fox.

Image descriptions below the cut - be aware they’re long.

[Image set ID: A set of nine digitigrade anthropomorphic designs for the Mechanisms crew. They’re drawn digitally, and have transparent backgrounds. All are wearing their usual outfits, though none have hats. End set ID.]

[Image one description: Jonny d’Ville drawn as a Bengal tiger. The stripes are jagged, mimicking his usual eye makeup. In contrast to his main fur and underbelly’s orange shades (underbelly being almost cream), the stripes are slightly blue-tinted black. Jonny is baring his teeth, and has dark grey eyes. End description one.]

[Image two description: Nastya Rasputina drawn as a gyrfalcon. Her colors are slightly blue-tinted greyscale. There is dark grey barring on her wings, a streak from her eye to mid-neck, and a few small spots around her neck. Nastya’s arms and legs are pale yellow, with dark grey talons and beak. She has a neutral expression, and her eyes are dark blue. End description two.]

[Image three description: Ashes O’Reilly drawn as a black kite. Their colors are a few shades of brown and a warm dark grey. Their face and the middle of their wings are cream-colored, while the tops of their wings, low neck, and tail feathers are more moderate. Their wings’ feather tips and a few spots on their neck are warm black. There is light barring on their wings. Ashes’s arms and legs are a moderate yellow, with medium grey talons and beak. They have a neutral expression and brown eyes. End description three.]

[Image four description: Drumbot Brian drawn as a mouflon. He is mechanical, looking to be made of bronze, with some fur-like texture on his neck. Many bolts and screws are visible at the edges of panels. Brian’s horns, hooves, and nose are a darker color than his main body; his hands, feet, and the end of his snout are lighter-colored than his main body. His eyes are yellow and have rectangular, horizontal pupils. Brian’s expression is neutral. End description four.]

[Image five description: Ivy Alexandria drawn as a barn owl. There are bronze panels visible on the side of her head. The undersides of her wings, her face, and front half of her neck being cream. There are warm grey specks across the middle of her wings and around the back of her neck. The rest of Ivy’s feathers are a moderate brown, while her arms and legs are a tan color, and her talons are grey. Her beak is pale yellow, and her expression is neutral. End description five.]

[Image six description: The Toy Soldier drawn as a maned wolf. Its colors contrast strongly - pumpkin orange main body, cream underbelly, and dark brown along its back. The divisions between colors are clean and smooth. The Toy Solder’s dark facial markings resemble a curled mustache. Its expression is vaguely happy, and its eyes are white. End description six.]

[Image seven description: Gunpowder Tim drawn as a coyote. His eyes have a circuit pattern radiating from the bottom edge and midway onto his cheek. His fur is a few shades of brown, with the grey-est of them on his ears, the back of his neck, along his legs, and on the top of his muzzle. A richer dark brown is present on Tim’s throat, his tail, the backs of his legs, and on the bottom half of his face. His underbelly, inner ear, below his eyes, and a little on the back of his neck have a cream color. End description seven.]

[Image eight description: Raphaella la Cognizi drawn as a golden eagle. Her wings are mechanical and look to be made of bronze; each feather is separate from the next, with the quills connecting beneath the joints of the wings. She’s a golden brown color, with a darker shade on her underbelly, the edges of her tail feathers, and a streak from her eye to the middle of her neck. A lighter shade is present along her beak and in a fragmented stripe on her tail feathers. Raphaella’s arms and legs are a moderate yellow color. Her expression is vaguely happy or interested, and her eyes are a moderate blue-green. End description eight.]

[Image nine description: Marius von Raum drawn as a red fox. His main body is a dull orange, with some grey ticking on his tail and the back of his neck. His ears, the bottom and tip of his tail, and his muzzle are a near-black brown. Marius’s underbelly and part of his tail are cream-colored. He is smirking, and his eyes are dark brown. End description nine.]

[archivehub]

Title: Lion Scouts Summary: Steven, Connie, and their four kids go hiking in the North Wydaho wilderness. Word Count: 513

A tiny, wee bit late, but here it is! For Glow Week day 6, I used the prompt "Vacation."

The short is also beneath the cut:

“You know, almost fifteen years ago, your mother and I hiked down this very same trail!” Steven beamed from beside his wife. A gargantuan bag containing an assortment of survival gear rested against his back.

“Yeah? Well it’s boring,” Lisa moaned from over her parents’ shoulders. Her arms were firmly crossed as she paced alongside Lion. “There’s just a bunch of trees and squirrels. If I wanted to see those, I could go into our backyard.”

“I think the trail’s beautiful,” the girl’s younger brother, Gregory, twinkled from behind her. He yanked his yellow-red, hand-me-down ukulele off his back. “I’m getting so much inspiration for my next song,” he grinned before strumming a chord on his instrument.

“If you start singing, I think I’m gonna puke,” the boy’s twin sister, Priya, shivered from his left side. “I already hear enough singing at home; I don’t need to hear any more on vacation,” she snorted, elbowing her brother in his abdomen.

“I think some music would be great right about now,” Grace, the eldest sibling, yawned from atop Lion’s back. “I’m normally all for a good hike, but”—she quirked an eyebrow—”middle-of-nowhere North Wydaho?” She darted her eyes around her surroundings; her most exciting observation was a mossy rock. She tittered, “What are we doing out here?”

“Taking a stroll down memory lane,” Steven sing-songed.

“This was one of your father’s favorite stops on his three-year-long road trip,” Connie lectured as she readjusted her scabbard’s strap. She reminisced, “During my first spring break from college, I joined him out here for a whole week.” She booted a sizable stone from the path. “It was…” she smiled timidly, “romantic.”

“Barf!” Lisa mock-gagged; her siblings all snickered.

The family made their way into a miniature, grassy clearing from which a plethora of nearby landmarks could be made out. Chief among them was a moderately sized, vaguely-heart-shaped lake.

“It’s just as I remember it!” Steven gasped. “Kids, this was our camping spot! We slept here every night for seven days straight!” He sprinted to a nearby boulder which he lifted effortlessly with one arm; beneath it, a pair of familiar initials were carved, encased in a crudely drawn heart. “See? We marked it as ours and everything!”

“Woah, cool,” Grace remarked.

Steven pointed toward a small stream. “That’s where your mother and I searched for crayfish.” He tapped his foot atop a small collection of ovular stones. “Here’s where we made dinner every night.” He whipped around, nearly causing his backpack to topple. “And over there”—he pointed in the direction of a respectable mound—”was where we helped a group of marmots dig a new burrow after a badger destroyed their old one!”

“Badgers are rad,” Lisa smirked. “Should’a let it keep the burrow.”

Swiveling on his heel once more, Steven took immediate notice of the heart-shaped lake in the near distance; he went starry-eyed. “Oh my stars!” he squealed, bouncing on his knees. “Connie, Connie, look! It’s the lake where we—”

The woman slapped a palm over her husband’s mouth. “Not around the kids!” 

[adobe-outdesign]

have you reviewed the techo yet? i like their big ol feet

Techo are pretty underrated pets; maybe I'm just biased because I have a deep love for geckos, but they're cute little guys with nice, simple designs. They're not technically that different from actual geckos in terms of anatomy, having the distinct sticky toes/fingers, large bugged out eyes, and big tails, but being bipedal instantly gives them a bit of flavor, and I like the way their tails stick straight up and have a naturally wiggly look to them.

Another thing that helps is their markings; they have these subtle swirls on their limbs, but they also have a few spots on their heads (typically red, though it varies when painted). There are plenty of geckos that have spots like this IRL, though the one that immediately jumps to mind is the Madagascar Giant Day Gecko:

My only issue with their basic colors is that the cream-colored underbelly feels a bit low-contrast, and doesn't always work well with the base colour. I kind of feel like something more colorful would've been better; either a lighter tint of the base colour or a yellow to match the eyes. This isn't a big deal though, as most paint brush colours change this anyway.

Conversion was sort of a mixed bag here; on the one hand, I like the anatomy of the converted version better with the better-proportioned arms, thicker tail, better-placed/bigger spots, and improved flow to the overall body. However, it also lost a lot of its personality; the customized version is just kind of there, while the unconverted version is delightfully cheerful and easy-going.

Favorite Colours:

Faerie: The UC/styled faerie Techo is amazing. I love that they didn't just slap generic butterfly wings on it, instead opting for some ruffled, folded wings vaguely reminiscent of something like a frilled-neck lizard. They fit the gecko base perfectly and the way they run all the way down the body is really cool. The light yellow body is then contrasted not only with the lighter blue wings but some darker blue spots that kind of invoke the default ones on the Techo's head, which makes it so the body isn't just a generic yellow Techo base. Beautiful stuff.

The only con is that the converted version sucks; not only did the markings change slightly for the worse, but the wings are both too light and no longer run down the tail like they used to, resulting in it looking 10x more generic. Defiantly go for the styled on this one.

Woodland: I've already talked about this one before so I'll keep this one brief, but the woodland Techo is really neat; it's based on the leaf-tailed Gecko, which is both thematically appropriate and makes for a neat visual. The leaf tail and underbelly are integrated pretty well, and I like the more subtle color palette for this one.

Maractite: The Maractite Techo does a fantastic job of integrating the Techo's natural markings into the design; not only are the arm and leg swirls present, but also the spots on the head, all detailed and seemly integrated with the rest of the body markings. There was also a lot of though put into the intricate flow of the markings on areas like the tail, and the plain underbelly has a wonderful hard polished rock texture to it.

BONUS: The toy Techo is one of those sticky gecko toys, and like the Maractite, has a great texture to it. The concept is fun, and I like the use of neon-bright color here. My only issue with it is that the tail feels disconnected from the body; I think it being green would've solved that issue, especially because there are three colors competing here already (pink, green, and red). I'm also not a huge fan of the spots here, as they look weird with the raised texture. The rest of it is pretty delightful though.

[formulaes5]

fall from the stars (get in my car)

Mark watched in a combination of amazement and long suffering acceptance as Seb whipped a travel sachet of lube from his pocket like the world's lamest, horniest magician. Of course Seb would think to bring lube to a formal gala. He didn't even think he was surprised anymore. Nothing is sexier than good driving and Mark Webber's stupid, handsome face. Sebastian makes his opinions on the matter known.

☆ 3.8k, E, ao3 ☆

They left the event separately, one after the other. Mark taking the initiative to head out first after Jenson somehow managed to stand up from the table without falling over, swaying on his feet as he announced that he was excusing himself to the bathroom, “Definitely not to throw up, thank you very much”. Somehow, Mark doubted the truthfulness of that statement.

“Well mate,” he said as he stood, “you have fun with that, I’ll see you later then?”

Jenson replied with what may or may not have been an affirmative groan, clearly not quite with it as he stumbled off in the general direction of the bathrooms. Hopefully he would get there in time, or some put upon member of staff would be forced to deal with it, Mark thought with a grimace.

Seb vaguely followed the interaction from the next table over, before watching Mark’s long legs appreciatively as he strode towards the exit, occasionally stopping to shake hands with people and say his goodbyes. Sebastian followed at around the twenty minute mark, somehow managing to extract himself from a conversation with Christian about new car regulations and his holiday plans in the Maldives with Ginger Spice, of all people. How Christian managed that was still something of a conundrum to the team, with the vast majority of them agreeing that she was so out of his league that he may as well be playing a different sport altogether. Mysteries would never cease.

They had organised their rendezvous in the car park out the front of the building. Seb stood out the front for a minute, scanning the sea of expensive sports cars in a veritable rainbow of colours; red Ferrari’s, blue Aston Martin’s, a pink Lamborghini – and one yellow Suzuki Swift, looking very out of place – before he spotted Mark, leaning up against a sleek white Porsche. The subtle but classy coupe didn’t exactly stand out between every other expensive sports car, but it was still beautiful in it’s own regard, especially with Mark leaning up against it, looking – in Sebastian’s humble opinion – just about good enough to eat, the ends of his undone bow tie hanging loose around his neck, lightly buffeted by the evening breeze giving him a distinctly James Bondesque look.

Mark looked up as he approached, pocketing his phone and pushing away from the car to greet him, “Hey handsome, you come here often?” he joked, raking his eyes down the length of Sebastian’s suit clad body with obvious interest.

“Yeah, yeah,” Seb laughed, “shut up and get in the car, time to go home.”

Mark acquiesced with a chuckle, moving from the side of the car before stopping to watch as Seb shrugged out of his suit jacket, popping the top few buttons of his shirt with one hand and opening the car door to throw the jacket behind the seats with the other. He paid special attention to the view as Seb bent over to put his jacket in the car, grinning as he moved around the car to the driver’s side and laying a slap on the curve of Seb’s ass where he was bent over arranging his jacket as he passed him. Mark laughed at the way Seb startled, only feeling slightly bad about it when he jumped and hit his head on the roof of the car.

“Hey!” Seb protested, blushing fiercely and rubbing the back of his head, “that’s harassment, surely!” he complained.

He threw a mock offended look at Mark over the top of the car, who saw straight through the protest without problem. Seb always liked it when Mark blurred the line between what was and wasn’t technically appropriate in public, and a deserted parking lot was as good a place as any for it.

“I’ll show you harassment sweetheart,” Mark joked, leering over the car at the skin of Seb's throat now on display, “now, what was it you said? That’s right… Shut up and get in the damn car.”

Seb laughed. He got in the damn car.

Buckling their seat belts before pulling out from the parking lot, they navigated the winding city streets until they made their way out onto the relatively empty highway, passing very few cars at this time of night; just them and a few other highway drivers, passing like ships in the night.

Seb watched intently from the passenger seat, eyes locked onto Mark’s strong profile. He had always been handsome, and Seb had always been attracted to him – albeit grudgingly at times – but there was just something so damn edible about the way he looked in formal wear, and watching Mark all night long had been a challenge in self control, to say the least. He traced the line of Mark’s jaw with hungry eyes, taking in the few days of stubble that he knew from experience felt perfect against his skin. Diverting his attention from Mark’s face, he trailed his eyes across the length of the arm he was using to steer, practically drooling at the way Mark’s black shirt was rolled up to show off the muscles of forearms.

As lovely as those forearms were, Seb forced himself to move his eyes onward, to the main prize. Mark’s hands were large, certainly a lot larger than his own, which turned Seb on like nothing else, if he was being honest. He had one hand on the wheel, and the other on the gear shift, but both of them were indecent in Seb’s opinion; large and veiny and a perfect fit resting lightly at the column of his throat or wrapped around his cock. He adjusted himself in his seat, feeling distinctly hot around the collar at the thought of Mark’s hands on him, tight holding his wrists or gentle holding onto his waist. Stroking a thumb through the hair on the back of his hand as they held hands in the back of a taxi in some anonymous part of whatever country they were racing in, or linking their pinky fingers together under the table at a briefing. Seb wanted those hands on him tonight, preferably sooner rather than later.

As if things weren’t already bad enough for Sebastian, Mark had apparently decided that this was a perfect opportunity to move one of those large hands from where he had it resting on the gear shift to sit comfortably high up on Seb’s thigh. A dark pink blush spread across his face as Mark looked over at him with a grin, stroking his thumb back and forth. Even after all this time Mark still had the capacity to make Seb go redder than a Ferrari; the smug bastard. Seb couldn’t decide if he loved it or hated it more.

“Hey,” Seb laughed, “watch the road, not me.”

“But you’re so much more interesting to look at.”

“Mark!” Seb protested half heartedly.

“Oh but Sebi, the road doesn’t blush so pretty for me now does it?”

Seb went even redder in response to that particular compliment, glad that Mark had returned his focus to the road, if only because it meant that he didn't have Mark’s eyes boring into him anymore.

He still had Mark’s hand to contend with, stroking his thigh through his dress pants, slowly inching inwards. “Sebi… Naughty,” Mark teased as he moved his hand lightly over his crotch, feeling the hardness through his trousers,“What’s got you all worked up there mate?” he asked, not even looking over at him, his eyes focussed on the road.

“Mark,” Seb whined, bucking up into Mark’s hand, desperately trying to increase the friction in his trousers. Mark pressed his hand further down into Seb’s crotch, palming at his rapidly hardening length, but still focussing on the road, albeit with a large grin on his face. Even though Mark was doing exactly what Sebastian had instructed him to do – keeping his eyes forward and watching the road as he drove – a small, impractical part of Seb was bursting with anger at being so blatantly ignored, even when for all intents and purpose, his needs were still being tended to. He needed Mark’s full attention on him, he’d been craving it all night, really, and this still wasn’t good enough for him. He had standards, damn it.

“Mark, stop the fucking car.” ordered Seb, trying to project as much confidence into his tone as possible, significantly impacted by the way Mark had just pulled down his fly, teeth biting lightly into his bottom lip in concentration.

“We’re nearly home though,” Mark countered, now going as far as reaching his hand into Seb’s pants and slipping underneath the fabric of his boxers. Seb groaned as Mark wrapped his hand around him, stroking up and down his length, all the while grinning like a madman, “don’t you want to wait 'til we get home though?”

“I want you to pull over at the next rest stop,” Seb gritted out, “and fuck me right here in the damn car.”

Mark’s hand stilled immediately before retracting, still sticky with precome. He wiped his hand on his trousers and pulled the car into gear, speeding up towards their interim destination.

By the time they pulled into the rest stop Sebastian was a restless, wriggling ball of energy, desperate to get Mark’s hands back on him again. As soon as the handbrake cranked into place, Seb was undoing his seatbelt and reaching across to grab Mark by the collar, scrunching the shirt in his fists. He slammed their lips together messily, drawing Mark into a sloppy meeting of lips, noses knocking together and hands fisted in the expensive material of Mark’s crisp black shirt as he kissed him hard and heavy, pouring all the heady want that had been building up over the course of the drive into the kiss.

Mark tangled his hand into Sebastian’s curls, tugging with the perfect amount of pressure to draw a whine from him that Seb would probably be embarrassed about if he had the awareness to know that he was making it.

“Fuck,” Mark gasped, grabbing at his waist, “c’mon baby, get over here.”

Seb giggled as he clambered over the centre console, and deposited himself awkwardly into Mark’s lap, feeling grateful that Mark’s legs were long enough to necessitate that the driver's seat be set back far enough that he wouldn’t bump into the wheel and set off the horn. Seb looked down at Mark, feeling only slightly self conscious of the way that Mark was staring up at him, hands resting suggestively on his waist.

The tinted windows of the Porsche provided a modicum of privacy, but even then it wasn’t exactly what one would call private, but as Seb dove back into the kiss, rocking his hips down into Mark and slamming their mouths back together, he really didn’t give a damn. All he cared about was getting his hands on Mark and Mark’s hands on him and keeping it that way for as long as physically possible.

“Seb,” Mark panted between kisses, “wait a sec,” Seb kissed him again, whining and leaning further forward, desperately chasing the kiss as Mark pulled away, “I’d love to, but I don't exactly keep lube in the car.” Mark said apologetically, stroking his hands down Seb’s back soothingly.

Seb laughed, wriggling a bit in Mark’s lap as he reach into his pocket, which probably wasn’t doing great things for Mark’s self control, Seb thought idly, then wriggled some more just for good measure, making sure to put a fair bit more pressure down into Mark’s crotch than was really necessary or kind, drawing a soft groan from his throat and an unconscious jerk of his hips as Seb moved around in his lap enticingly. Seb had been waiting for this moment all night. He was ready.

Mark, on the other hand, had no fucking clue what Seb had in store for him.

Mark watched in a combination of amazement and long suffering acceptance as Seb whipped a travel sachet of lube from his pocket like the world's lamest, horniest magician. Of course Seb would think to bring lube to a formal gala. He didn’t even think he was surprised anymore.

“I… What the fuck, Seb?”

Seb just grinned down at him, shaking the sachet back and forth.

“Were you planning a quickie in the bathroom?” he asked incredulously, “not that I'm complaining,” he added hastily, just in case Seb decided to take his confusion as disinterest.

“Oh, so you don't want to fuck me?” Seb asked teasingly, leering down at him, “That’s what I'm hearing?”

“Nonono,” Mark protested, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him back down into his crotch to prove to Seb exactly how much he wanted him. He was hard just from the way Seb had been rubbing against him, which he was sure he had been doing on purpose – despite the supposedly innocent look in his eyes – and he was well on the way to aching at the idea of fucking him right where he sat in the Porsche, which they had somehow never done before, not even in Seb’s matching black version. They should definitely remedy that right now, Mark thought determinedly as he snatched the sachet from Seb's hands.

“Pants off,” Mark said authoritatively, already undoing the buttons on Seb’s shirt to get at his bare skin. Seb laughed, fumbling to unbuckle his belt and tug at his trousers, trying to work out how exactly he was meant to get them off from where he was sitting in Mark’s lap.

They managed it somehow, leaving Seb sat in Mark’s lap in just an unbuttoned shirt, having discarded his embarrassingly damp boxers with his trousers, and leaving his cock hard and aching and sandwiched deliciously between their bodies. Mark wrapped his hand back around his hard length, swiping his thumb over the head of Seb’s cock, slick with precome as he stroked him up and down a few times, before reaching back to prod gently at his hole, drawing a hum of pleasure from Seb as he felt the press of a large finger at his entrance.

Mark pulled his hand away just as quickly as it had arrived, somehow managing not to make a mess as he tore open the sachet of lube with his teeth, coating his fingers in the slick substance and moving back to the task at hand. The angle wasn’t great for his wrist as he eased a finger slowly up into Seb, who gasped at the sudden intrusion, moving in and out of his heat, but the noises that Seb was making more than made up for the inevitable ache he would have in his wrist the next day.

Seb canted his hips down onto his finger, clenching down in a wordless demand for more, which Mark was more than happy to give him, slipping a second finger in with the first as he pumped slowly into him, scissoring his fingers apart and stretching Seb’s hole, eliciting a drawn out moan as he moved in and out.

“More,” Seb moaned, “I want more… Mark, please.”

Who was Mark to deny him? He added a third finger, to Sebastian’s delight, crooking his fingers and searching for that sweet spot inside him.

“I’ve got you sweetheart,” Mark whispered, “gonna make you feel so good, you love that, don’t you, hm?”

Seb didn’t reply, just gasped as Mark found his target, his eyes snapping open as he moaned his appreciation.

“Good?” Mark checked distractedly, gazing up at the way Seb had thrown his head back in pleasure and feeling a smug satisfaction course through him to know that he was the cause of that dazed expression. He looked perfect, beautiful. He told him so, grinning at the way Seb shivered at the praise.

“Want you now,” he said, rocking his hips down faster onto Mark’s fingers, which were scissoring him apart in a perfect stretch, searching again and pressing up against his prostate “Mark,” he whined, “Mark, now.”

“Yep, one second,” Mark pulled his fingers from Sebastian’s hole, who gasped at the feeling of sudden emptiness, “it’s alright Sebi, just a second,” reassured Mark as he gently encouraged him to lift up, finally allowing him to push his own trousers down and off, tangling around his feet as he kicked them off with prejudice.

He reached for the little sachet of lube, which had been abandoned on the passenger seat – thankfully leather, and easy to clean – he squeezed the lube into his palm, coating it over his length with a groan, before spreading the remainder over Seb’s entrance, and the remainder of that onto his shirt thoughtlessly. He could buy a new shirt, hell, he could buy a hundred new shirts; right now he just needed to be inside Seb as soon as possible.

“C’mon baby, lift up for me,” he encouraged, taking his slicked up cock by the base and positioning it at Seb’s entrance, “there we go Sebi, there we go.” he murmured softly as Seb began to sit back down.

Seb slapped his hand against the window, clutching at Mark’s shoulder with the other, sparks shooting up his back as he sank down tantalisingly slow onto Mark’s length with a high moan.

“Ohmygod… Mark,” he gasped. The stretch was wonderful, bordering almost on painful, but a good kind of pain. The kind of pain that promised to turn into the most delicious, perfect pleasure.

Mark held on tightly to Sebastian’s waist – no doubt hard enough that Seb would be finding finger sized bruises the next morning for him to kiss better – groaning as Seb sat further down onto his cock, fighting the urge to buck his hips up into the perfect tightness of Seb’s hole as he did.

Seb bottomed out with a moan, bringing his ass flush with Mark’s hips and rocking gently against him as he took a moment, accustomising himself to the welcome intrusion. He wrapped both his arms around Mark’s neck and bumped his head forward into Mark’s, before carefully moving himself up and dropping back down into Mark’s lap with a squeak. He grabbed at Mark’s face with the intention of resuming their earlier kiss, but really only succeeded in smacking their teeth together until Mark cupped his cheek in return, gently angling his head and kissing him softly as Seb moved back and forth on Mark’s cock.

Seb leaned his body into the kiss, picking up the pace of his movement with the help of Mark, hands now back gripping his waist firmly as he helped him to move up and down on his cock. They were both moaning now, Mark meeting Seb in the middle as he thrust up into the silky hotness of his hole.

“Fuck, Sebi,” Mark groaned, his hands tight on Seb’s waist as he bounced in his lap, the slapping sounds of skin on skin filling the silence of the night.

A burn was rapidly beginning to make itself known in the muscles of Seb’s thighs as he bounced himself up and down on Mark’s cock. He pushed it to the back of his mind, chasing the high, loving the way Mark was slamming so perfectly into his prostate with each thrust now, sending sparks of pleasure shooting though his body as he let out a desperate little whine, needing more.

Seb moved to wrap a hand around his neglected cock, desperate to relieve the pressure as he dropped down and Mark hammered up into that sweet spot with a brutal efficiency that he thought might have just made him see stars. Mark batted Seb’s reaching hand away from his cock, startling a yelp out of him in the process. Pushing Seb’s hand out of the way, Mark replaced it with his own large hand, starting just under the leaking tip of Sebastian’s cock and pumping it with that same efficiency he was using to thrust perfectly inside of him.

He stroked Seb’s cock with what could only be described as passion, twisting his wrist on the way up and swiping his thumb over the tip, still thrusting up to meet Seb on his way down, pulling punched out little gasps and high moans from his beautiful mouth as he worked with a single minded focus to get him off.

“Don’t stop,” Seb gasped, bucking up into Marks hand and back down onto his cock, buried inside of him, “Don’t fucking stop.” He’s not sure which sensation is the one that does it, but all of a sudden he’s hurtling over the line, crying out and coming hard into Mark’s hand, onto his shirt and across his chest in spurts.

Mark barely lasts another five seconds, pulling Seb’s mouth to his own in a sloppy kiss, fucking Sebastian through his orgasm as he chases his own. He bucked frantically up into him, moaning as Seb clenched hard around him, getting lost in the feel of Seb’s body around him. Mark abandoned the rhythm they had set, fucking into him desperately before the drag and the heat of Seb’s perfect body became too much for him to handle. He came with a low groan, pressing himself as deep as he could into Sebastian as he filled him, sweat plastering their skin together as they panted into each other’s mouths.

They stay connected for a few minutes, Seb feeling floaty and sated and pleasantly full of Mark as he rested in his lap, kissing him softly, but unfortunately aware of the fact that he couldn’t stay there indefinitely. He pulled up and off of Mark’s cock with a groan, dropping himself back down into his lap, laying his head onto Mark’s shoulder and pressing his chest into Mark’s. They sat there for a while, holding on to each other as their chests heaved, Seb’s arms around Mark’s neck and Mark’s around Seb’s waist, pulling him in and holding him close.

He looked up at Mark before leaning in and connecting their mouths together, trading soft closed mouth kisses that devolved into deeper, sloppier, tongue filled messes.

“Fuck…” Mark breathed out, gazing at Sebastian, slumped loose limbed and gorgeous in his lap, “you’re so perfect like this sweetheart, so perfect.”

Seb doesn’t know what to say, still high on the rush, so he kisses him again, slow and sweet and sensual, a hand rubbing up against that lovely stubble. Mark sighs happily, kissing him back just the same, a hand pressing into the small of his back as he holds Seb in his lap; gently, possessively, lovingly.

“Can we…” Seb begins haltingly, “Can we just stay here, just for a moment? Just hold me like this for a moment.”

Mark pressed a kiss into his hair, followed by several more, stroking his hands gently over Seb’s back, “Sure sweetheart,” he says, “sure we can.”