#this is my second attempt at uploading this drawing
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nickyandstuff · 10 months ago
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I didn’t know which of Cassie’s hair lengths is preferred by the fandom so I drew her long hair because I never draw long hair.
Speaking of hair, I absolutely adore the way Bart’s hair turned out.
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tempest-teacups · 1 year ago
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i keep forgetting to post shit hello. my half of an art trade with my good friend wheat toyhouse !! everyone say hiii cricket honeysong
timelapse video link under the cut :3 its kinda huge it had to go on youtube. lol
https://youtu.be/SaS9NJhFSO4 < BOO
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return-of-a-space-cowboy · 6 months ago
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Yandere Kars X Pillar woman reader who survived because she was with baby Whamu and baby Santana, protecting them.
This idea makes me go monkey brain, had to write a short on this and upload at nearly 2am.
Defy nature
(Yandere Kars X Female pillar woman reader)
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You frantically shushed the crying baby in your arms as you cradled him in an attempt to quell him.
“Please stop crying or they'll find us” you quietly pleaded. Not wanting to draw the attention of Kars and Esidisi. You'd already watched them mow down even the strongest of their own kind, dead set on killing everyone that opposed them. You'd been told to flee with the only two children Wammu and Saitana as everyone tried to defend against them.
You turned to the basket you were kneeling by. Saitana began to stir.
“No no no, not you too” you muttered before you heard steps approaching.
You threw your head towards the source of the sound and your blood went cold.
“(Y/n)” Kars lulled your name, covered in the blood of your own.
“you never were a fighter, always so tender my flower” he said as he took another step forward.
Tender, a word he described you with a great many times. Sickened you to think he'd been one of your paramours now that he had massacred so many.
“I won't let you kill them too!” You proclaimed as you put wammu back in the basket.
“No I don't intend to kill them, children have such impressionable minds… I shall train them to serve me” he said. Your gut churned, use children to fulfill his own sick twisted plans. You couldn't understand his thought process.
“Why? Why would you do such a thing to yourself?” You questioned.
“I wanted to carve a path for our kind, we were once revered by the humans as God. Now they are trying to kill us. Once I find a way to release our true potential we shall be the ultimate lifeforms” he explained.
“Yes that was the case before but any creature does not wish to be ruled by another, fear is a necessity for any to survive… what you intend to do is go against nature itself” you seethe, looking him straight in his eyes. He was different, frenzied with an insatiable appetite.
“What you've become now is a sick mockery of our brethren, the ones you have slayed without even a thought!” you yelled. Both babies now wailing.
“I never thought I'd see the day you'd yell” he said in an amused tone.
“I hold no manners to you, you will just kill me like everyone else” you told him.
Within the blink of an eye he was now right beside you. Holding your head in his hand.
“I couldn't,” he confessed.
“In truth I always felt a burning Jealousy towards your other partners. For so long I've wanted you to myself” he continued as his free hand delicately toyed with your horn, something he knew you'd usually take great pleasure in but not now. It felt more  perverse than before with that hungry gaze, like a boa seconds before it eats its prey whole.
“And now I do” he said.
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wongyuseokie · 11 months ago
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Stitches | l.sm
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Summary: Seokmin is nothing if not the perfect boyfriend, so he decided to manscape a little to spice things up. Unfortunately, he wasn’t paying enough attention, and he’s been stitched up for a week. He’s determined not to let you in on why he’s rejecting your advances, but all it’s doing is making you think he’s not interested. Seokmin sees that you’re upset, but he just doesn’t know how to tell his girlfriend that he accidentally cut his penis and now has stitches in it. 
☆ 18+ minors dni |☀︎fluff | ♕ implied smut |  ☁︎ mild angst | ♥ completed works 
Word Count: 1486 words 
Pairings: Lee Seokmin x Female Reader
Genre/Trope(s)/AUs: fluff, mild angst (but it's me so idk how long it’ll stay mild), new relationship au!
Content Warnings: mentions of razors, stitches and blood (nothing graphic). Mentions of food.  
Smut Warnings: none, but just implied smut
Authors Note 1: thank you to my lovely seoksluts @the-boy-meets-evil @wooahaeproductions @highvern and @kwanisms for encouraging this <3  Taglist: @aaniag and @dkluvrsclub and @thegirlwhoimagined @ressonancee and @tomodachiii @bitchlessdino @onlyseokmins @gyuminusone because why not <3
“So, you’re telling me you have a cut on your dick?” Mingyu repeated as he wiped away the tears from his eyes. He had been laughing at Seokmin ever since he confided in Mingyu. 
“Shut up, I was right. I should have gone to Jeonghan hyung,” Seokmin whined, and Mingyu laughed more at his comment. 
“No, he’d probably upload your bleeding penis to the group chat,” Mingyu teased, making Seokmin throw a towel at Mingyu’s head. 
“Can you help?” Seokmin pleaded. 
“I think that Y/N would prefer to help you when it concerns your penis,” Mingyu joked, making Seokmin reach for the hairbrush on the bathroom counter to throw at Mingyu’s head. 
“Okay, calm down. I’ll take you to the doctor, and after that, we’re going to discuss why you think throwing things in an argument is a solution,” Mingyu offered, earning a glare from Seokmin. 
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“Stop whining, it could be worse. You could, I don’t know, have severed your entire dick off. All you did was let a tiny little cut, which after a week will be fine,” Mingyu scolded as Seokmin went on his third meltdown of the day. 
“What do I tell Y/N?” Seokmin wailed; he had been a mess after the doctor told him that he’d stitch up his cut, but he’d have to abstain from any activities that would exacerbate his cut–which included sex. 
“Just tell her the truth?” Mingyu offered, confused, wondering why Seokmin couldn’t be honest with you, his girlfriend. 
“No, she’s going to think I’m an idiot,” Seokmin mumbled. 
“I think she already thinks that, ow!” Mingyu yelped as Seokmin smacked his head. 
“Dude, it’s not that serious. Tell her you wanted to make your penis pretty and accidentally sliced a bit of it,” Mingyu suggested earning a glare from Seokmin. 
“Or you could say that you wanted to attempt an “at-home” circumcision,” Mingyu joked, his suggestion earning another smack from Seokmin. 
“No, I know what I’ll do. I’ll ignore her advances; it’s just for a week, and I’ll make it up with the best sex ever,” Seokmin said determinedly.
“Okay, first ew, second, don’t because you’ll ignore her, and she’ll think something’s wrong with her,” Mingyu warned. 
“No, she won’t. She knows I think she’s perfect,” Seokmin argued. 
“Okay, genius, you do what you think is best. Just try not to slice up your dick again. Besides, you could go to a salon, and they’ll manscape you nicely,” Mingyu teased, making Seokmin whine again and lie back down on the hospital bed. 
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“Baby! You’re home!” You exclaimed, running to greet your boyfriend, who held out a hand, stopping you from hugging him. 
“Sorry, I'm sore. I fell during practice,” Seokmin lied, hoping you didn’t catch his tone. He was a terrible liar. 
“Oh baby, should I get you something? Ice? Or maybe I can draw you up a warm bath to soothe your muscles?” You offered, and Seokmin shook his head furiously. 
“No!” Seokmin yelped, confusing you. 
“I’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry,” Seokmin said, calmer, and you just shrugged. 
“Well, I hope you’re not too sore for me to kiss you,” you asked, hopeful. 
“Uh, no, I’m not,” Seokmin grinned. 
You walked towards your boyfriend, and you were about to kiss him when he moved his face away. Your lips landed on his cheek. 
“Seok?” 
“You wanted a kiss, right?” Seokmin asked, grinning, and hoped you wouldn’t question him further. 
“Yeah. I guess,” you mumbled. 
“I’ll go change, and we can cuddle and watch a movie?” Seokmin offered, making you smile. That sounded more like your boyfriend. 
“Sounds good.” 
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You both weren’t cuddling as you watched the movie. Seokmin had his hand on your thigh but still kept at least a couple of inches of space between you. You were confused, but you did want to cuddle him, so you reached out your arm. Before you could place it on Seokmin’s thigh, he inched away from you, yelping. 
“What the hell?” You asked. 
“Why are you touching me?” Seokmin asked, exasperated, hating how the words sounded and hating how your face fell after hearing his words. 
“I just wanted to get a bit closer to you,” you mumbled, embarrassed. 
“Well, I’m not always in the mood,” Seokmin said defensively. 
“Well, you’re the one who suggested a movie and cuddles?” You argued. 
“That doesn’t mean we need to be stuck together like glue; sometimes I don’t want you cuddling me,” Seokmin spoke quickly, the words spilling out of his mouth before he could even think. 
“Oh,” you said quietly, looking at your hands. 
“Baby, that's not what I meant,” Seokmin said, trying to backtrack. You looked up at him, shaking your head. 
“No, it’s fine, um. I have some work to finish, so uh, I’ll catch you in a bit?” You said as you got up from the couch and walked off to the bedroom, not giving Seokmin a chance to speak and stop you. 
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Later that night, you decided you’d get ready for bed without Seokmin, even though you two liked doing your night routine together. You figured he needed space, so you gave him just that. 
“Baby?” Seokmin called out, and you pretended to be asleep. You felt the bed dip as he lay down next to you. 
“I’m sorry,” Seokmin mumbled as he wrapped his arm around your waist. You placed your hand over his. 
“It’s fine,” you mumbled, turning to face him. This made Seokmin gasp and inch away. 
“What the hell, Seok?” You asked, now annoyed. 
“Baby, it’s just that I need to keep my distance from you right now,” Seokmin admitted, and you glared at him. 
“Fine, keep your distance,” you huffed, grabbing your pillow and heading to the door. 
“Wait, where are you going?” Seokmin asked. 
“The guest room. I don’t know what is wrong with you right now, but you’re not making me feel very wanted, and since you want space, I’ll give you space,” you ranted, walking out of the bedroom and slamming the door behind you. 
Seokmin knew better than to follow you, but he knew he needed to fix this. He grabbed his phone and started texting Mingyu. 
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The following morning, you decided to ignore Seokmin until he told you why he was behaving so funny, and while it was incredibly petty of you to do so, you were hurt. 
You emerged from the guest room after you took a shower, and the only thing you could find to wear was one of Seokmin’s shirts since you were determined not to go into your bedroom. You pouted, put his shirt on, stepped outside and made your way to the kitchen. 
“Baby!” Seokmin greeted, and you saw a lavish breakfast spread on the kitchen island. 
“What’s all this?” You asked, gesturing to the food. 
“This is my attempt at apologising for my atrocious behaviour last night,” Seokmin mumbled, looking like a sad puppy. You let out a giggle, sat on one of the high chairs next to the island, and took a strawberry and bit into it. 
“Why are you laughing?” Seokmin asked. 
“I wouldn’t call your behaviour ‘atrocious’ just odd,” you said with a grin and patted the seat next to you. 
“So why were you so skittish?” 
“Don’t laugh, okay?” Seokmin pleaded, and you nodded, allowing him to continue. 
“I wanted to, uh, I guess, groom myself a bit. I think the term is manscaping, and I got distracted and accidentally nicked my penis, and I had to get stitches, and I can’t do anything for a week,” Seokmin explained quickly, and you pressed your lips together to try and not laugh. 
“Hey, you said you wouldn’t laugh,” Seokmin whined, and you giggled and placed your arms around his neck. 
“Oh, my sweet baby, why did you think you needed trimming?” You asked, placing a kiss on his cheek and making him smile. 
“I don’t know to make my penis more appealing.” 
You let out a laugh pulled away, and placed your hands on Seokmin’s pouty face. 
“Baby, I think you have the prettiest dick in the entire world. I’ll yell it from the rooftops if I need to,” you comforted him, making him smile at you. 
“You’d yell it?” Seokmin asked. 
“Yes, baby, I understand, and I respect that. You can always be honest with me. I’ll never judge that,” you explained further, and Seokmin pouted as he nodded. 
“I’m sorry about last night,” Seokmin apologised. 
“It’s okay. Can you at least give me a proper kiss?” You asked, and Seokmin nodded. He leaned forward and captured your lips in the softest kiss ever. 
“Mm, 100 more of those today, and you’re forgiven,” you offered. 
“Done!” 
“Uh, babe, what would you yell about my dick?” Seokmin asked as he walked away to fix you a plate. 
“Oh, simple, I'd say that Seokmin has a very nice DK.” 
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hrizantemy · 11 days ago
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Veil of Silence
Chapter one
And she was wrapped in silence as the days / Went out in darkness, and the little stars / Were cold and far away, and in her heart / Was loneliness more desolate than all.
Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Nesta Archeron
Rating: E for Explicit. Minors DNI
Warnings: Power, oppression, misogyny, coercion, manipulation, violence, assassination, and implied torture, forced marriages, class exploitation, and psychological trauma.
AO3
A/N: This is my rewrite of this story after AO3 accidentally deleted it. Because of that, I’ve made several changes, expanding on world-building, character dynamics, and political intrigue. Given what happened, I’ve also decided to upload it here as well to ensure it doesn’t disappear again.
This story is heavily inspired by Welsh mythology, woven into the culture and traditions of Hewn City. It also serves as my attempt to deepen the world-building of the Night Court, particularly Hewn City’s power structures and its political games.
Rhysand and the Inner Circle are not portrayed as good characters here. This story does not idolize them—instead, it explores the power imbalances, control, and consequences of their rule, especially regarding Nesta’s exile. If you’re looking for a story where they are heroic or idealized, this is not that.
I also want to do Hewn City justice. The idea that they are simply “all evil” and therefore undeserving of depth has never been a convincing argument to me. No society exists in pure black and white, and reducing an entire city to villainy strips away the complexity of its people, its history, and its internal struggles.
This story explores Hewn City beyond its reputation, diving into the lives of those who navigate its dangerous halls—not just the monsters, but those who have no choice but to survive among them.
— — — — — — —
“One,” Amren said, raising a slender finger, “you can move up to the House of Wind, train with Cassian in the mornings, and work in the library in the afternoons. You will not be a prisoner. But there will be no one to fly or winnow you down to the city. If you want to venture into the city proper, by all means, go ahead. That is, if you can brave the ten thousand steps down from the House.” Amren’s eyes glittered with the challenge. “And if you can somehow find two coppers to rub together to buy yourself a drink. But if you follow this plan, we will reevaluate where and how you live in a few months.”
Nesta’s nails dug deeper into her palms, her breath sharp as she glared at the female.
“And my other option?” she spat.
Amren’s expression did not change, did not waver. “You go to Hewn City.”
Silence.
Nesta went still. Ice poured into her veins, a slow, creeping dread curling around her ribs.
Hewn City. The Court of Nightmares. She knew enough about it to understand exactly what Amren was saying. She could either remain here, under their watchful eyes, under Cassian’s command, or she could be sent to a place where monsters thrived in the shadows, where she would be left to fend for herself among males who would love nothing more than to tear her down.
It was not a choice. It was a demand wrapped in false mercy.
Her lips parted, a bitter retort on her tongue, but she felt Cassian shift beside her. When she glanced at him, his jaw was tight, his eyes dark with something unreadable. Not pity, no. He knew better than to pity her. But there was something else, something akin to frustration—perhaps at Amren, perhaps at himself. Perhaps at her.
Nesta snorted. “Hewn City?” She let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking her head. “So my options are to be locked up in this prison of yours or thrown to the wolves?” Her gaze flicked to Cassian, then back to Amren. “Tell me, did you all draw straws to see who would deliver the threat, or was it just decided that I’d fold the second you snapped your fingers?”
Her blood burned, her skin too tight over her bones as rage curled in her stomach. The audacity of it. The sheer, calculated cruelty of it. They had already stripped her of so much, and now they expected her to sit here and listen while they pretended to offer her a choice. Like she was some unruly child who needed to be disciplined, who needed consequences to keep her in line. And of course, they’d chosen the one consequence she could never stomach—being trapped, whether in this House or in the festering, wretched underbelly of the Night Court. The Court of Nightmares.
She scoffed, shoving past Cassian, needing distance, needing air, but there was none to be found. The House was vast, its ceilings high, but it felt like the walls were pressing in, like it already knew it had her. Ten thousand steps down, or nothing at all. “I’m surprised Rhys didn’t just order me bound in chains and be done with it,” she muttered, crossing her arms tight over her chest. “At least that would be honest.”
A voice—softer, smoother—broke through the tension before Amren or Cassian could respond.
“Nesta.”
Nesta stiffened, her entire body locking up at the sound of her sister’s voice. Feyre had been quiet, lingering just outside of the conversation, but now she stepped forward, her blue-gray eyes pleading, her expression wary—as if she knew how close Nesta was to snapping. “It’s not like that,” Feyre said gently, her hands held out in that diplomatic way of hers. “No one is trying to punish you. We just—we’re trying to help. To give you a place where you can heal.”
Nesta’s laugh was sharp as a blade. “Oh, is that what this is? A kindness?” She looked around the towering walls, the empty halls, and then back to her sister. “Funny, it feels more like a cage.”
Feyre winced but didn’t back down. “You don’t have to see it that way. The library—the priestesses—they’re wonderful, Nesta. They’ll give you space, if that’s what you need. No one is forcing you to do anything except—” Feyre hesitated, just a fraction, but it was enough. “Except take care of yourself.”
Nesta bared her teeth in something that wasn’t quite a smile. “And if I don’t?”
She didn’t give Feyre a chance to answer before she scoffed again. “No, really, what happens if I refuse your generous little offer? You throw me into Hewn City? And then what?” She turned her glare on Amren, then Cassian, but finally landed back on Feyre. “Would you all just toss me down into the darkness and leave me to fend for myself? Would I be expected to grovel before Keir and his ilk, scrape by however I could? Or would I just be left to rot there, abandoned?”
Feyre flinched, but it was Rhysand’s voice that answered.
“No,” the High Lord said smoothly, stepping out from the shadows of the hall. His violet eyes were calm, unreadable, but there was a steel edge beneath the words. “We made arrangements.”
Nesta stilled.
Rhysand came to stand beside Feyre, his power radiating through the room, filling the space between them with something cold and absolute. “You would live there. You would have a roof over your head, but you would be cut off from us. From everything. No money. No assistance. No protection. You would be alone.”
The words slammed into her, each syllable a weight pressing against her ribs, against the fragile, fraying thread of her self-control. Alone. Completely and utterly alone. In a place filled with creatures that would tear her apart, that would revel in the sight of a lost, desperate Archeron sister trying to claw her way through the darkness.
Nesta’s throat burned. “So those are my options? A prison or exile?” She let out a cold, hollow laugh. “Tell me, Feyre, Rhysand, which of you came up with this brilliant little scheme? Or was it both of you, sitting in your palace, deciding what to do with the mess of a sister you never wanted?”
Feyre’s face twisted in pain, but Rhysand remained unmoved. “You made your choices, Nesta.”
Her nails dug into her palms, her breathing sharp and uneven. Yes, she had. And now they were making theirs.
Nesta wanted to rage. She wanted to scream, to rip through this house with the sheer force of her fury, to let them all feel even a sliver of the fire burning through her veins. But she didn’t. She swallowed it down, forced it into the deepest, darkest part of herself where no one—especially not them—could see. She would not give them the satisfaction. Would not let them look at her like she was some storm to be weathered, something chaotic and uncontrollable. No, she would keep it in check. She would hold it in and let it sharpen, let it turn to ice instead of fire.
So instead, she lifted her chin, met Feyre’s pleading, careful gaze, and said, “What about Elain?”
Feyre blinked, as if she had expected Nesta to lash out, to argue, to fight. And maybe that was what she wanted—what all of them wanted. For Nesta to explode, to prove that she was reckless, that she needed to be locked away and reined in. But she wouldn’t. She wouldn’t give them anything.
Feyre took a slow breath. “If you choose the House, she can see you whenever she’d like.” Her voice was measured, even, as if she was trying to soften the blow before it came. “But if you go to Hewn City…”
She hesitated.
Nesta’s stomach twisted.
Feyre’s hands clenched slightly at her sides before she forced herself to continue. “If you go to Hewn City, then—if Elain wishes, she can see you as well.”
They both knew she wouldn’t.
The words hovered in the air between them, heavy and unspoken. Nesta didn’t need Feyre to say it outright, didn’t need to hear the truth that lingered in the way her sister’s voice wavered, in the way her expression turned pained and uncertain. Elain would not come. Elain, who was so firmly settled in this new life of hers, in the warmth and beauty and quiet of Velaris, would not dirty her hands by reaching into the darkness to pull Nesta out.
And Nesta couldn’t even blame her.
Her throat burned, but she only tilted her head slightly, let her lips curve into something that was not quite a smirk, not quite anything at all.
“I see.”
Nesta let the silence stretch, let them wait for a reaction she refused to give. But beneath her carefully crafted mask of indifference, her mind churned.
How long had they planned this?
Had it been weeks? Months? Had they sat together in that perfect, shining townhouse and discussed what to do with the sister who would not fall in line? Had they whispered about it over tea, over dinner, while she had been alone in her apartment, drowning? She wondered if Elain had been a part of the conversation, if she had sat quietly as Feyre and Rhysand mapped out Nesta’s fate, or if she had excused herself, unwilling to be burdened by the details of what would become of the sister she could no longer reach.
Or had it just been Feyre and Rhysand, the High Lady and High Lord, deciding for her as they decided for everyone else?
Nesta’s fingers curled into fists at her sides. What had been the final straw? The drinking? The gambling? The nights spent in places they didn’t dare to venture, places where she could disappear into the oblivion she so desperately sought? Had it been the money she had burned through, the coin she had taken without asking? Or had it been something else—something simpler? Had they simply grown tired of her? Had they woken up one morning and decided that Nesta Archeron, with all her sharp edges and unspoken grief, no longer had a place here?
Her gaze flicked between them, between Feyre’s careful sympathy and Rhysand’s unshaken resolve, and she realized she would never know the answer. Because none of them would say it outright. None of them would look her in the eye and admit that they had washed their hands of her long before this moment, that this little intervention was not about saving her—it was about removing her.
And yet, despite everything, despite the burning rage simmering beneath her skin, Nesta could not stop herself from asking, her voice quieter than before, but no less sharp.
“What was it?”
Feyre blinked. “What do you mean?”
Nesta cocked her head, pretending she didn’t care about the answer even as it clawed at her insides. “What was the moment you decided I wasn’t worth the trouble anymore? What was the thing that made you sit down and plan out exactly how to be rid of me?”
Feyre flinched—actually flinched—but Rhysand only watched her with that unreadable, unshaken stare.
And none of them answered.
Feyre exhaled, her throat working as if she was struggling to find the right words, as if she had not come prepared for Nesta to ask the one question they had hoped to avoid. But then her expression steeled, and she turned to Rhysand, her voice soft but firm. “I want to speak with my sister. Alone.”
Rhysand’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, his violet eyes flicking between them. He didn’t like it. Nesta could see it in the way his shoulders tensed, in the way his magic curled faintly around him like a warning. But to his credit, he did not argue. After a long, assessing look at Feyre, he inclined his head. “Fine.”
Nesta didn’t know if he was truly giving in or if there had already been an agreement made between them before she arrived—if Feyre had insisted that this conversation happen on her own terms, if Rhysand had reluctantly agreed but still hated the idea of leaving them alone together. It didn’t matter. He turned smoothly on his heel, striding for the door with that same effortless grace he carried everywhere, and within seconds, he was gone.
Amren was next, slinking past Nesta without so much as a glance, as if she had already said all she needed to say and had no interest in whatever conversation would follow. Fine. Nesta had nothing to say to her either.
But Cassian hesitated.
She felt it more than saw it, the way he lingered at the door, his presence a solid, unshakable force behind her. And then, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if he always had to do this, to look at her, to see her, he cast a glance back over his shoulder.
Nesta did not meet it.
She kept her chin high, her arms crossed, staring straight ahead, as if she hadn’t noticed, as if she didn’t care that he was trying to catch her gaze, as if her stomach hadn’t twisted the moment she felt the weight of his attention.
A few more beats of silence, a few more moments where she could feel him thinking, wondering, debating. And then Cassian sighed, a quiet, tired thing, before finally stepping through the doorway and pulling it shut behind him.
Leaving Nesta alone with Feyre.
Feyre didn’t speak right away. She only stood there, watching Nesta with that same cautious wariness, as if she were picking through the shards of something broken, trying to decide whether it was worth the effort to put it back together. Nesta refused to make it easy for her. She stood stiff, arms crossed, her face blank. She would not be the first to break the silence.
Finally, Feyre sighed. “Nesta…” The sound of her name from her sister’s lips was not a plea, not quite an apology, but something in between. Feyre shifted, as if bracing herself, before she continued, “This isn’t a punishment. I know it feels like one, but that’s not what we’re trying to do.”
Nesta let out a quiet, humorless laugh, but said nothing.
Feyre pressed forward, stepping closer, her voice gentler now. “I know you hate this, I know you think we’re controlling you, but we—” she hesitated, as if searching for the right words, as if they might make Nesta understand, ”—we’re trying to help. You’ve shut yourself off from everyone, Nesta. You barely eat, you barely sleep, and when you do, it’s not at home, it’s in places that…” Feyre’s throat bobbed, but she pushed on. “Places that aren’t safe. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m scared for you. We all are.”
Nesta’s fingers twitched, but she kept them locked around her arms, kept her body still. Scared for her. It should have meant something, should have stirred something in her, but all she could feel was the cold weight of resentment pressing down on her ribs. Because they weren’t scared for her. They were tired of her. Tired of the mess she had become, tired of waiting for her to fix herself, tired of watching her unravel and still refusing to reach out.
Feyre took another step forward, so close now that Nesta could see the pain in her eyes, the frustration, the exhaustion. “I don’t want to send you away, Nesta. I don’t. But I can’t just sit by and watch you destroy yourself.” She exhaled sharply, her fingers curling at her sides. “You have to make a choice. Either you stay here, in the House, where you can heal, where you can find something—anything—to hold on to. Or you go to Hewn City, and…” Feyre’s voice faltered, but she forced herself to say it. “And you’ll be on your own.”
The words settled heavily between them, final and absolute. Feyre watched her, waiting, hoping, begging Nesta to see what she was trying to say.
But Nesta only stared back, unmoving. Unyielding.
Nesta let the silence stretch between them, let the weight of Feyre’s words settle into the space where her anger burned low and hot. Heal. That’s what they wanted. That’s what they thought this was about. As if she were some wound that needed tending, some sickness that needed to be cured. As if the pieces of her that had been shattered—that had been broken beyond recognition—could be put back together just because they had decided it was time for her to be whole again.
Her fingers dug into her arms, nails pressing deep, grounding herself in the only way she knew how. Finally, she exhaled sharply through her nose and shook her head. “You don’t get to do this.”
Feyre blinked, her expression tightening. “Nesta—”
“You don’t get to pretend this is a choice,” she cut in, her voice colder than the wind howling outside. “You don’t get to stand there and act like you’re doing me some great favor, like this is some kindness.” She laughed, bitter and sharp, like broken glass. “You’ve already made your decision. You and Rhysand and the rest of them—you’ve already decided what to do with me, already decided that you’re done. So don’t stand there and tell me this is about saving me, Feyre.” Nesta’s eyes burned, but she refused to blink, refused to let anything but anger rise to the surface. “This is about making me disappear.”
Feyre’s face twisted in pain, but Nesta barreled forward before she could argue, before she could try to soothe and smooth over the jagged edges of what had already been done. “Tell me, Feyre,” she said, voice quieter now, more dangerous. “If this was about helping me, why did you have to corner me?” She let the question hang, knowing there was no answer Feyre could give that wouldn’t betray the truth of it. “Because you knew, didn’t you? You knew if you gave me a real choice, I wouldn’t come.”
Feyre’s throat bobbed, and Nesta saw it then—the way her sister’s hands trembled slightly, the way her mask of calm wavered, cracked. Because Nesta was right. Because they had been planning this, because they had known for weeks, maybe months, that they would have to force her hand.
The realization should have hurt. Maybe it did, somewhere deep inside that place she refused to touch. But Nesta only clenched her jaw, forced her voice to remain steady, empty. “You should have just let me be.”
Feyre exhaled, shaking her head, something desperate, something pleading in her eyes. “I couldn’t.”
Nesta let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “No, you just wouldn’t.”
Nesta held Feyre’s gaze, let her sister see the full force of her defiance, the steel that had always been there, long before either of them had been Made, long before magic had tangled itself into their bones. Let her see that no matter what she said, no matter what threats they threw at her, they would not break her.
“I’m not going,” she said, her voice low and steady. “You can drag me here, you can throw me into this house like a piece of unwanted baggage, but you cannot make me stay.” She lifted her chin, the barest challenge. “I will not train. I will not go to your gods-damned library. I will not sit in this house and pretend that any of this is for my benefit. If you think you can force me to play along, you’re mistaken.”
Feyre’s face didn’t change. No flicker of hesitation, no faltering step back. Just that steady, unrelenting stare, the same one Nesta had seen when she had faced down Hybern, when she had fought for them, for this court, for her. But there was something else in it now—something colder, something as unyielding as stone.
“You’ll go,” Feyre said quietly. “Even if I have to have you tied up and hauled there myself.”
Nesta’s breath sharpened. The words were not a threat, not spoken in anger or cruelty, but in absolute certainty.
And that was worse.
That Feyre truly believed she had no other choice, that she had made up her mind long before this moment. That she was willing to use force if she had to. Nesta searched her sister’s face, looking for any trace of the Feyre who had once bargained her life away for them, who had fought so hard to bring them here, to bring them home. But maybe that Feyre was gone, lost to power and duty and the relentless burden of always being the one to clean up the mess.
Nesta let out a quiet, bitter laugh. “And here I thought you weren’t trying to punish me.”
Feyre flinched—but she did not take it back. Did not try to soften it.
Because she meant it. Every word.
And Nesta realized, with cold finality, that there was no way out of this.
Nesta’s nails dug into her palms as Feyre’s words settled between them, solid and immovable.
Tied up and hauled there.
It wasn’t an empty threat. Feyre meant it. Nesta could see it in the unwavering set of her jaw, in the quiet steel in her eyes. There was no way out of this. She would be taken to the House of Wind, one way or another. Locked in that grand, empty palace atop the mountains with no way down, no way out.
Her stomach twisted as her mind spun forward, unspooling the future they had decided for her.
Training. With Cassian.
Nesta swallowed hard, the thought alone making her pulse hammer. Being forced into the brutal, exhausting drills she had watched Illyrian warriors endure. Training with him. Sweating, aching, her body pushed to its limits as he barked orders at her, as he forced her to fight when she had spent so long letting herself waste away. She didn’t want it. Didn’t want his sharp eyes assessing her, didn’t want his words scraping against her defenses, didn’t want the inevitable moment when she failed and saw disappointment flicker in his gaze. Because she would fail. She had never been built for war, never wanted the blood and steel and violence that ran so easily through Cassian’s veins. And yet, they would make her do it anyway.
And the library.
Nesta’s throat tightened as she thought of the priestesses, those silent, watching females who whispered and murmured but never ventured far from the shadows. They would put her there, among them, force her to exist in a space filled with quiet, careful ghosts. Did they think she belonged there? With the broken, with the ones who had been shattered by the horrors of the world and never quite put back together? Feyre and Rhysand could pretend this was about healing all they wanted, but Nesta saw it for what it was. They were putting her away. Placing her somewhere safe, somewhere they could contain her, keep her out of sight until she was palatable again.
Her breathing turned uneven, but she fought to keep it steady. She would not let Feyre see. Would not let her glimpse the raw, roiling emotion beneath the surface.
They had taken everything from her.
And now they would take this too. Her own ruin. Her own choice to drown.
It came out so fast she barely heard herself. “Hewn City.”
The words slipped from her lips before she could stop them, before she could even fully form the thought. And for a second, for the briefest of moments, she wondered if she had only imagined saying it, if the words had only been a whisper in her mind.
But then Feyre’s eyes widened, her entire body going rigid.
“What?” Feyre’s voice was barely above a breath, like she hadn’t heard correctly, like she refused to believe what had just come out of Nesta’s mouth.
Nesta blinked, her own pulse thrumming in her ears, and then—“Hewn City,” she said again, stronger this time, deliberate. Final.
A beat of silence. A thick, suffocating silence that seemed to stretch for miles between them.
Feyre’s lips parted slightly, her throat working, but no words came out. And Nesta saw it then—the crack in her sister’s composure. The slight unraveling of the mask Feyre had worn since the moment this conversation started. She hadn’t expected this. She had thought Nesta would fight, that she would rage and curse and push back until there was no choice left but the House. But she had not expected this. Had not expected Nesta to take the one thing she had been using as leverage, the one option that was meant to force her hand, and accept it instead.
They hadn’t wanted her to choose Hewn City.
They had wanted her to be afraid of it. To recoil at the thought of being thrown into that wretched, rotting place, alone and powerless, with only the monsters lurking in its shadows to keep her company. But she wasn’t afraid. Not of that. Not of them.
Nesta lifted her chin, refusing to let her voice waver. “You gave me a choice, and I made it.” She arched a brow. “Or was that a lie, too?”
“Nesta, wait—” Her voice was tight, urgent, not the cool, calculated tone she had used before. There was something raw in it now, something fraying at the edges. “You don’t want this.”
Nesta let out a sharp, humorless laugh, folding her arms over her chest. “Funny, I don’t remember asking for your opinion on what I do and don’t want.”
Feyre’s jaw clenched, but she didn’t move, didn’t back down. “You’re not thinking this through.” Her hands curled slightly at her sides, like she wanted to reach for Nesta but knew better. “Hewn City isn’t like Velaris. You won’t be safe there. You can’t just disappear into your vices like you do here, Nesta. There are people there who will see you as an opportunity, who will—” She cut herself off, exhaling sharply, eyes burning with frustration. “They’ll try to use you. Hurt you.”
Nesta met her stare without flinching. “And that’s supposed to scare me?” She tilted her head. “Are you actually afraid for my safety, or do you just not want to feel guilty when you send me there?”
Feyre’s breath hitched. Just a fraction. But Nesta saw it.
“It’s not like that.”
“Isn’t it?” Nesta arched a brow. “You handed me a choice and expected me to pick the one you wanted. But I didn’t. And now you’re scrambling to take it back.”
Feyre shook her head, her fingers tightening into fists before she forced them to relax. “That’s not true. I never wanted to send you to Hewn City, Nesta.” Her voice wavered slightly, but she didn’t let it break. “I was hoping you’d pick the House because it would help you. Because you could—” She swallowed, eyes pleading now. “Because you could find something good there. A reason to keep going.”
Nesta’s throat burned, but she forced the fire down, forced herself to stay cold, to let the words slide right off her. “You don’t get to decide what’s good for me, Feyre.” She took a step forward, meeting her sister’s gaze head-on, daring her to argue. “You all decided I was too much of a problem to keep in Velaris, so you gave me two options. And now that I’ve made my choice, you suddenly don’t like it?” She let out a low laugh. “What a shame.”
Feyre exhaled, long and slow, like she was trying to steady herself. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, laced with something softer. “Nesta, please. I know you’re angry. I know you feel like we’re forcing you into something you don’t want, and maybe we are. But I also know you. And I know you don’t want this, not really.”
Nesta’s entire body locked up.
Because Feyre said it like she meant it. Like she knew something Nesta didn’t, or maybe something Nesta refused to admit to herself.
But Nesta refused to break. She refused to let Feyre see the small, splintered crack in her resolve, refused to let her words burrow under her skin. So she only lifted her chin, her voice smooth and unyielding.
“Then you shouldn’t have given me the option.”
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aegon-targaryen · 22 days ago
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Fic Masterlist
AO3 | tumblr writing tag | fanfiction.net (mostly old writing)
As requested by @gloriousinthebattle, below is a list of everything I’ve written from 2023 onwards, organized by game! These fics are all LOZ and nearly all Zelink unless otherwise noted ☺️ I’ve fallen out of the habit of consistently uploading to tumblr, but I will be sharing some unposted fics here over the next few weeks!
Twilight Princess (my beloved <3)
Longfic: As Dusk Falls (AO3, ff.net) | post-canon Zelink | 81K words | Rated T
A new queen ascending a throne built on lies and blood. A hero who has lost his place in the world. After winning the greatest battle of their time and losing Midna, Zelda and Link must repair the damage to Hyrule and to their own hearts—but the lingering consequences of the Twilight invasion threaten to tear apart the kingdom they fought so hard to save.
Oneshots Related to As Dusk Falls (which can also be read on their own)
The Blue-Eyed Beast (AO3) | 6K words | Rated G | Pre- to mid- to post- canon exploration of Rusl & Link’s relationship
See You Later (AO3) | 3K words | Rated G | Immediately post-canon, covers Zelink losing Midna
In the Light of Morning (AO3, tumblr, ff.net ) | 2K words | Rated G | Post-canon Zelink, established relationship, Zelda reckons with her feelings
Pumpkin Tarts (AO3) | 2K words | Rated G | Post-canon Zelink, established relationship, Link teaches Zelda to bake
Lost and Found (AO3, tumblr) | 2K words | Rated G | Post-canon Zelink, established relationship, Zelda and Link visit Ordon
Ghosts That We Knew (AO3, tumblr) | 2K words | Rated G | Post-canon Zelink, established relationship, helping the Hero’s Shade move on
Other TP Oneshots
The Fortress (AO3) | 2K words | Rated T | Depicts the Puppet Zelda fight through Zelda’s eyes
Of Cats and Wolves (AO3 | Zelink Across Time zine) | 5K words | Rated G | Post-canon friends to lovers zelink
Blue & Gold (AO3, tumblr) | 8K words | Rated T | Post-canon messyyy zelink hunting a beast in the forest
Ocarina of Time / Majora’s Mask
Longfic: Like A River’s Flow (AO3) | 63K words | Rated T | Post-canon Child Timeline Zelink
Back then, they stood on opposite sides of a gulf: Zelda resenting the confines of her childhood, Link trying to pick up the shattered pieces of his. Bridging the gap now means building upon grief and unfamiliarity. But she’s spent so long missing him—she’s sick to death of wasted time. “I’m right here,” she says, sliding her fingers through his. “Will you tell me what happened?” Fireplace shadows flicker over his bandaged face. Maybe he’ll refuse. Zelda remembers Epona’s hooves kicking up dust, his proud green tunic disappearing behind the crest of a hill. Maybe all hope for their future died that day—or maybe time and tragedy only helped it grow. Link’s answer comes slowly, like drawing venom from a wound. “Well,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on her hand, “I got lost.” ------------ OR: The hero searches for something he’ll never regain, the princess becomes a queen, and fate gives them a second chance.
OOT / MM Oneshots
Old Souls (AO3, tumblr, ff.net ) | 3K words | Rated G | precedes Like a River's Flow but also stands alone
Starlight (AO3) | 3K words | Rated G | Mid-canon Sheik/Link being yearny as fuck
Mirage (AO3, tumblr) | 3K words | Rated G | Once again, mid-canon Sheik/Link being yearny as fuck
Masquerade (AO3, tumblr) | 6K words | Rated T | Child Timeline Zelink as vigilantes, sorting out their feelings about Adult Timeline Zelda
Breath of the Wild
The Missing Horseshoe (AO3, tumblr) | 2K words | Rated G | Pre-Calamity zelink, immediately follows Zelda’s Resentment memory
Bit by Bit (AO3) | 2K words | Rated G | Pre-Calamity zelink, immediately follows Blades of the Yiga memory
If I Falter (AO3, tumblr, ff.net) | 5K words | Rated G | Pre-Calamity zelink, Link breaks his silence
So Many Eyes (AO3, tumblr) | 7K words | Rated T | Pre-Calamity zelink, the Yiga attempt to assassinate Link
The Rise Before the Fall (AO3, tumblr) | 2K words | Rated T | Zelda and Link have their first kiss as Hyrule burns
Tears of the Kingdom
Moonglow (AO3) | 1K words | Rated G | Mid-canon, Zelda swallows the Secret Stone
Sunblind (AO3) | 1K words | Rated G | Mid-canon, Link processes Zelda’s fate
Hollow-Hearted (AO3, tumblr, ff.net) | 2K words | Rated G | Mid-canon, Link processes Zelda’s fate part 2
In Time (AO3, tumblr, ff.net) | 2K words | Rated T | Post-canon, Zelink recovering from TOTK
Beneath the Skin (AO3, tumblr) | 3K words | Rated T | Post-canon, Zelda heals Link of his lingering gloomsickness
Other LOZ Games
The Missing Piece (AO3) | 3K | Rated G | Echoes of Wisdom; Link confronts a false Zelda, and befriends the real one
Oceans as Far as the Eye Can See (AO3) | 11K words | Rated G | Wind Waker / Link’s Awakening crossover in which Tetra, asleep under Ganondorf’s spell, wakes up on Koholint and meets a stranger with a familiar name
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skylermadness · 1 year ago
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Whatever. (Lucas Lee TF/MC)
Tumblr media
(Original Date of Upload: December 6, 2023)
I continue to be too lazy to fill my queue.
Original Description:
Make this Lucas Lee TF #3, now in the written medium! My boyfriend got me to watch through both the Scott Pilgrim movie and anime and it was pretty obvious that I was going to fall in love with Lucas. A bit of a jerkish man with a large physique and attractive face, pretty much the perfect bait for someone like me. This also meant that inevitably I was going to have to write a TF story on this guy! I wanted to go for something a bit simplistic here in terms of tone and plot, mainly because I wanted to jump straight into the transformation segment, but I think in general I'm rather proud of how this story turned out! I really wanted to give this man justice, especially since in the end he'll probably be memorialized in the hall of underrated TF figures. Also going to give some credit to my friend moltingscales on FurAffinity for a few description additions that I would not have been able to come with on my own! Rated Mature for vague bulge growth description.
   Truth be told, self-confidence was not something that Mike had an ample amount of. Especially in regards to how he viewed his physicality. That was always something he thought when he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror. And for this evening that sense of low self-esteem was at an all-time high. The reason? Date night.
   He had always attempted to tell himself that these dates were just meant to be casual. There was nothing to really worry about since it wasn't like he and his boyfriend were going to some bougie five star restaurant or something. Unfortunately however, Mike’s mind never truly functioned that way and he had a tendency to spiral down a mental staircase of overcomplications. That coupled with the past two weeks he's had in regards to his job had sort of left his mind in a state of disarray. It wasn't fragile persé, but neither was it solid.
   That mental state is why he was in the bathroom mirror at 7PM in the evening staring at a sheet of temporary tattoos in his hand. Said sheet was just some three dollar cheapo set that he bought online a few days ago. Mainly because he was too much of a coward to get a real tattoo- that's beside the point!
   Although the cheapness of the purchase was definitely pungent as he stared down at the sheet. He didn't go for the more expensive and extravagant purchase, mainly because he didn't really want to draw too much attention to himself. In general he had just wanted something simple that also looked aesthetically appealing. However the more he stared down at the sheet he began to realize that he really went too far on the simple notion. Although that was primarily because the only selections on this fake tattoo sheet were simplistically stylized letters and numbers.
   Mike sighed. “What do they expect me to do? Spell out my name or something?” It hasn't even been five minutes and he was already regretting this purchase. It was fine though, it was fine, he might be able to settle on something at least.
   He had already crossed out putting in his own name, and he felt it would be weird to put in the name of his boyfriend. Would it be weirder to put in the names of everyone in his polycule? If anything that'd just look like a hit-list. Also he was pretty sure he didn't have enough letters for all of that anyway. For a second he also considered putting the name of a game or something he liked, but that option fell flat since the letters provided to him would look weird when tattoos of game logos legitimately exist.
   These mental gymnastics lasted for a good twenty or so seconds before Mike’s gaze wandered down to the number section of the sheet. There weren't a lot of numbers he'd say represented literally anything about him. Except…
   “...two?”
   Just two. He was the second person in his polycule with his boyfriend after all, and in general he had been the second to do a lot of things like finish college and move out. Although considering he was just doing this to boost his self confidence for a date with his boyfriend the former thought process was a much healthier one.
   Seeming to have come to a decision, the next couple minutes were a fairly standard order of events. Making sure his skin was dry, removing the film and isolating the singular number from the sheet. Mike did spend a good minute trying to choose a spot to place this temporary tattoo, but eventually settled on the side of neck solely so he could hide the thing if need be. He removed the choker that he typically wore, put it onto the sink’s counter, and placed the numerical icon onto the skin of the left side of his neck, then promptly wet up a sponge with some warm water before holding it onto where he was placing the tattoo.
   The moment the water met the backing paper that region of Mike’s neck had suddenly been given a slight burning sensation. It was only miniscule, but it was noticeable. “Eesh, I hope I'm not allergic to whatever is in these things…”
   He tried to hold out for the recommended thirty seconds, but that feeling of burning forced him to remove the sponge from his neck after twenty. He swiftly removed the backing paper from his neck, but found that there wasn't any kind of redness of the skin that would be the cause of any kind of burning. If anything the strange sensation had subsided, and now Mike had been granted a simplistic tattoo of the number two with a line going through it.
   He stared at his neck in the mirror for a few seconds and scrutinized the newly inked object on his neck. “...somewhat larger than I was expecting. Whatever I guess, it doesn't… look shoddy.”
   It did already look a little faded though. Mike had hoped once it had some time to dry it would actually look dark enough to imitate the appearance of a tattoo even though he didn't fully care about it looking convincing. With a sigh he moved his hand to the edge of the sink to pick up his choker and slip it back around his neck again. Although this time he loosened it a bit so it wouldn't rub up against the temporary tattoo too much. He apparently wasn't patient enough to let it dry before putting the accessory back on-
   With that whole routine dealt with, Mike made his way out of the bathroom. He was probably going to spend the next half hour sitting on the couch waiting for his boyfriend to arrive…
   However as he walked down the hallway he already started to massage the area the tattoo’s ink had been placed on. The burning was returning already and it felt a bit more intense now. “What are in those things?”
   He continued to gently massage the area of his neck with his hand, letting his palm gently squeeze the skin in an attempt to alleviate the sensation. Although it would seem as he continued in this act, a strange set of changes began to settle into his hand…
   There was a certain level of thickness that had begun to generate in both of Mike’s hands. His usually thin fingers steadily got larger, thicker, chunkier. As their size was getting altered their length was extending as well in order to fit their new proportions. The ends of his fingers also seemed to blunt a bit with initial the roundness of his fingertips dulling to a more straight look. At the exact same time the body of his hands was getting changed as well, both of them growing with each squeeze his left one did to his neck. They stretched out larger and wider, palms thickening as the entirety of his hands gained a significant level of meatiness to them that was already causing them to exude a level of strength that they had not possessed just moments prior. 
   From there it was a quick transition for the changes to jump past his wrists and onto his forearms. A small amount of heat began to arise in the lower area of his arms. With that heat came another swath of growths, the thinner physique of them steadily being lost under a swelling, bulking size. This was mostly because of the sudden increase in muscle mass he was getting. At an anatomical level, each usage of his extensor muscles by his hands was causing a practically impossible rate of growth. Like years of working out was being piled in the area in just seconds and giving his forearms a sizable muscularity. So much so that ridges were already forming, dividing muscle groups and accentuating the new size even further. A budding pressure had also started forming in his bones. Newly grown muscles practically massaging them, extending and hardening them further to better handle this larger size. It also wouldn't take very long for the exact same thing to begin to occur in his upper arms as well.
   It started with a squeezing sensation in his elbows, something that quickly intensified to yet another immense bout of pressure in the bones of the upper half of his arms. This was also accompanied by the same light amount of heat, which was then followed by even more muscle growth. The short sleeves of his button-up were quick to fill as the mass in his arms increased more and more. Biceps got bulkier and triceps matured tremendously, and it wasn't long until the diameter of his arms was practically doubled thanks to all of these changes. His shoulders ached as his deltoid muscles developed more, a certain roundness forming out from his once angular bodily shape. This roundness had also rapidly made itself visible from beneath the fabric of his shirt, his newly developed muscles firmly pressing up against the sleeves as they already began to look rather undersized.
   By the time this portion of the transformation had ended, Mike found himself at the threshold of the hallway and his living room. A few beads of sweat already began to form on his forehead as the heat was spreading from his arms to the rest of his body. “Uurgh, am I… having an allergic reaction to that thing…?”
   For a moment he stands in the doorway and unhands his neck, deciding to hold onto the threshold with a hand in order to stabilize himself a bit. He could still feel the tattoo burn against his neck, although he couldn't see it was significantly darker than it was before. What he did see, however, was his hand.
   “W-WHAT THE HELL-”
   For just a moment his mind was taken off the feeling of intense heat entering his body, Mike’s focus instead being directed to his larger hands and beefier arms. Flipping a hand around in a panic his first statement was, “O-oh God, this can't be an allergic reaction-”
   His eyes could only just trail down from his hands to his arms, the man only being able to behold the sight that was his recently obtained muscle mass. It felt so warm, and something about it was exuding pure strength, but despite that it all still felt uncanny. Bizarre felt like an understatement of a term, it was impossible!
   “What is going on?? Why is this- a-ahh-”
   His panicked statements were interrupted by what could only be described as the sudden feeling of a furnace igniting at the very core of his body. In just seconds his physical changes were transitioning from his arms to his torso, and Mike could instantly feel his chest push outwards and into his shirt with each breath the young man took.
   The best way to usually describe Mike’s chest was undeveloped. Flat with only minimal amounts of flab and fairly unimpressive from a physical standpoint. However, as his core was heated a fire entered his torso that caused a cascade of changes that practically tempered and sculpted his form. His chest pushed forward, his pectorals steadily swelling in size with each second that passed. It was small at first however, seemingly starting off as a slight growth that looked more like that of a novice who just started working out. But that appearance was temporary, one that lasted only a few seconds before they got larger and larger. With each ragged breath the man took his pectoral muscles only grew more, that novice feeling being lost into the size of someone more adept in gym-going. And that didn't last long as they grew even more into two thick and meaty slabs belonging to someone dedicated to refining their physicality.
   All the while his chest was pushing up against the front of his shirt. The size of his swelling pecs constantly indenting into the button-up more and more, their appearance getting more prominent beneath the fabric. But the only thing that held the halves of the shirt were buttons, and as the size of his chest increased it pushed his shirt’s placket to limits it just couldn't hold. Already buttons began to scatter, unleashing his chest more and unveiling the deep chasm that became his cleavage. A few more buttons were lost as his frame was prompted to extend as well. His collarbone and ribs pushed sideways, broadening and widening his form even more. Something that was causing even his back muscles to ache, a mighty need starting to form in them as well.
   “Urgh-” Mike grunted at the sensations, everything just feeling overwhelming. “M-my shirt- my chest it's so… it's so…”
   His cheeks flushed as all of a sudden Mike lost control of an arm. The free one that wasn't supporting him on the door got lifted up and, in just one quick moment, squeezed his right pectoral. He was given the sensation of just how soft yet firm they felt underneath his grip. Something that gave him just a single thought.
   Heh, you've got the best chest in the business~
   That very thought felt so foreign to Mike, already setting off mental alarm bells in the young man’s man. Yet despite that he couldn't swat it away, he couldn't stop his hand from giving his chest another squeeze and filling his brain with an almost erotic level of self-confidence (and perhaps self-absorption) that he didn't have prior. It was like his brain chemistry was beginning to get altered as well.
   The changes didn't stop at his chest though. His abdomen already began to ripple, skin and muscle bubbling and churning as yet more muscles were ready to sculpt themselves into existence. The fat around his stomach melted off, and rising from that were a set of abdominal muscles. They slotted forwards like drawers, just rows of abs sequentially unveiling themselves and hardening into yet more firm muscles to displace his once twinkish demeanor. Two, then four, then a six-pack set of abs, all finely built in a way that showed years of dedication. Although those were years that Mike had not toiled through. But as his sides burned, his abdominal muscles firmed up, and the front of his shirt continued to tear open even more, the sight of his more muscled form was causing more conflicting thoughts to form in his brain.
   His back continued to ache as the muscles in that region grew out. Yet again his shirt was filling up, and beneath that was a substantial formulation of mass that was forming in his trapezius muscles. Evidently that wasn't the only portion of his back that changed however as his spine was another major group of bones that got hit with the transformative pressure. A sensation that caused the discs in his spine to decompress and grow, elongating itself and granting Mike inches of height that would better work for his new proportions. This has caused the hem of his shirt to rise a bit and untuck itself from his jeans in the process.
   This sudden growth of height further disoriented the man, Mike having already been immensely discombobulated thanks to the intensifying fog that was forming in his brain. At this point he was already getting lost in the inspection of his body, his arm moving from squeezing his chest to tracing a finger down his cleavage. It further moved down to his abs, all fingers splaying outwards to touch and feel the strong six-pack that he had gained just moments ago.
   With all those years spent working out, it would be a waste not to feel those muscles you spent so long crafting~
   “Wuh… huh…?” Mike vocalized, eyes blinking in a daze. “I've never… worked… out…”
   For a second his brain registered his voice sounding different, sounding deeper, but his focus could only be on the statement said. How much of a contradiction it seemed to be. A fraction of him knew it was true, knew these muscles weren't here minutes ago or that he's never had the time or desire to gain such a form. Yet another growing part of him was telling him the opposite, that this is his body, his muscles, his everything. 
   Why deny such a form you've worked so hard on?
   “Mmmph…” Mike hummed, voice continuing to deepen and making it sound like a low rumble. His eye twitched a bit as he felt a bead of sweat roll near it and down his face. His hand trailed back upwards, not sure if it's himself controlling it or the unknown force, but it slowly moved up his abs and back to his pecs. And while he entered what could only be classified as a hypnotized state, the transformation continued the move its way downwards. His jeans tightened around his form as the diameter of his waist got larger, the first sign that it wasn't very long until the lower half of his body was consumed by the changes.
   The second sign was a stirring in his groin.
   Mike’s cheeks flushed as he felt the front of his underwear begin to fill out. A sizable bulge was steadily forming, his endowment increasing in size much like the rest of his body had. Such an occurrence was also forcing the zipper of his jeans to start to split open against this new bulge. At the exact same time, the seat of his pants was filling out as well. Gluteus muscles getting larger, some fat accumulating in the area more, all of which was making his butt a bit more prominent and round beneath his jeans. It strained the back of his pants a bit more which put more pressure on his jeans. A good few seconds passed before finally the button holding them couldn't last any longer and ripped itself out the eyelet, the fly of his jeans now fully open.
   That didn't end the torrent of pressure being put on his pants however. The transformation continued to cascade its way downwards, the man’s thighs being the next to thicken as heat surged in his leg muscles and forced his quads and hamstrings to grow in bulk and musculature. His calves practically burned as well as they practically ballooned out the back of the crus of his once skinny legs. Although at this point Mike’s lanky frame is now long gone, the last portion of it subsumed by muscle. The leg muscles of a man who knew how to train them, and who knew how to use them. This had also prompted another few inches to be added to Mike’s height as yet again the bones were shifted, strengthened, and extended beneath the muscle. The bottoms of the legs of his jeans steadily rode up his legs as a result, meanwhile the seams holding the sides together began ripping apart against his large muscularity.
   The last portion of his lower body that was left to change were his feet, that region already beginning to shift as the space in his shoes quickly got filled out. In mere seconds his feet grew in size to fit the proportions of the rest of his body, lengthening and widening at a rapid pace. It wouldn't be long until the toe caps of his shoes bulged as all his toes pushed forward into them and continued to do so more. The back of his feet dug into the heels of his footwear, meanwhile the sides rubbed up against the shoe’s sides. This had predictably caused a major discomfort in the area, Mike disorientatedly stepping forward a bit in some weird attempt to shake off the pressure. But it didn't end and his footwear continued to bulge, the leathery cloth of it creaking and splitting as his feet continued to grow inside them. The front was already beginning to split off from the sole at this point thanks to his feet’s longer length. However, in one fell swoop, the front of his shoes burst open with a loud rip piercing the air. His toes were now out in the open, their chunkier and almost blockier appearance now visible. But at this point the changes in his feet had come to an end, the rest of his shoes just barely holding on against the width of his feet.
   “Gghrrgh…” he groaned, his clothing feeling so uncomfortable against his larger body. “S-so small… unfitting… grragh…”
   He swallowed a lump forming in his throat. The burning at the side of his neck had almost faded at this point, the tattoo he had given himself having inked itself into his skin to the point of it being a real tattoo. Furthermore his neck was wider, diameter larger and the size thicker. It made his vocal cords tingle, his breaths continuing to get deeper and deeper before settling on a tone that was more masculine than it used to be. Rougher, tougher, and rugged sounding. Although it seemed due to the size of his neck the choker he wore snapped off and slipped off him.
   Show those strong muscles of yours, show that weak clothing of yours who's boss!
   Mike’s groping came to a halt at this point. The man lifted up his arm, a dumb smile forming on his face as he gave it a good fleeeeex and watched as the sleeve of his shirt tore against his bicep. “Awesome!”
   By this point the line of what was considered Mike and what was considered the strange force within him was blurring. The once foreign thoughts were becoming more proper, fitting for the person he was just about feeling he is. The new personality and mentality, one that felt more confident and stronger than he used to be. Although the concept of ‘used to be’ felt impossible. The more he stared at this strong form of his the more those earlier thoughts about this being his felt correct.
   “Heheh, this feels good!” he stated, no longer supporting himself on the doorway and giving his other arm a good flex to watch the sleeve on it shatter over his muscles.
   At this point the last set of physical changes were moving onto his face. As he smiled a pressure was wracking his skull, squeezing and sculpting his facial features into those of a completely different man. His skull structure got larger and wider, and with it his jawline reshaped and chiseled itself from the broadness. It almost protruded to the sides at this point. The way his jawline looked aided in shifting the way his skull physically appeared, the overall shape of his head looking boxy and rectangular. 
   With his jawline shifting, his once clean-shaven appearance got lost as black hairs poked out the skin of his chin. It started as a small amount rising from the tip of his chin, but that quickly spreaded across his lower jaw as a whole bunch more stubble dotted itself across the man’s jawline. Alongside that came more and more of his facial features getting shifted. The once rounded tip of his nose was getting pointier while the overall wideness of it narrowed a little bit. The brownish hairs of his eyebrows deepened to a dark black as they got thicker, bushier, and their appearance slanted until they gained an arched appearance. All of this had caused the previous appearance of Mike, the one that looked so worried and self-conscious, to be done away and morphed into the cocky visage of a new man that exuded raw confidence and self-assuredness!
   His hair was the very last part that turned. The browns of the follicles deepened to a perfect black. The length of it shortened and caused the overall messy and fluffy appearance to disappear at a rapid pace. In its stead came a more well kept, spiky style as clumps of his hair slicked back and jutted backwards. However, the hair at the back of his head jutted upwards, and all this spiking met at a focal point at a specific point at the apex of his skull. It gave his hair an organized look that somehow still appeared laid-back. All of this ended off with his sideburns thickening and trailing down the sides of his face before ending an inch or two above where his jawline would start.
   The same goofy yet confident smile on his face remained as he ran a hand through his hair and continued to admire a bicep. The man properly walked through the doorway and finally stepping into the living room. By now he didn't care about the discomfort in his clothing, and the questions of his identity were faded and buried beneath the knowledge that this is his identity. And for him he's always felt this way. So strong and assured of himself! He is talented skateboarder and actor, Lucas Lee!
   With that mental declaration in his head there came one last, albeit minor, change: his clothing. The cottony feel of his shirt hardened as a deep black oozed across the once pristine white. Everywhere the darkness spread on his shirt a leather feel was formed, and that continued to occur for the next few moments. The shirt itself grew in size as this happened, and the very appearance of it was shifted. Metal lined the ends of the button-up’s split as the remaining buttons slipped off and dematerialized. As the metal continued to form a bit of the shirt folded into a lapel that the metal continued to line the end of before teaching the peak of the lapel’s tip. 
   The shirt’s collar flattened and extended to better meet the lapel, and by this point the leather appearance had spread across the entire torso section of what was once a shirt. Although as the leather extended itself onto the torn sleeves and repaired them, extending them over his arms and snaking the sleeves so long until they were an inch beneath his wrists, it was proven that this was no longer a shirt. Instead it was a leather jacket now. The rest of his clothing had a much less impressive change however. His pants repaired themselves and grew to better fit him, the denim shifting from its rich blue to a deep gray. His shoes did exactly the same as well by extending over his feet, covering his toes and growing airier, before properly sealing themselves shut and recoloring from black to blue.
   With all of that finished the transformation had been solidified. All that was Mike was done away. His worries and concerns were cast, replaced with the confident persona of Lucas Lee. Although it was evident he got a lot more than just the persona.
   “Eh?” Lucas raised a brow, stopping his self-admiration as he realized where he was. “The heck am I? Whose house is this?”
   That question stayed important for about… two seconds before he decided he didn't care. “Whatever. Nobody’ll mind if I make myself comfortable for a bit!”
   He takes a seat on the living room couch, completely ignores the fact his pants were unzipped, and perches his feet on the small table in front of it. He was about ready to fold his arms behind his head and lounge here for a bit, but was stopped when he felt his phone vibrate in a back pocket. With a grunt he shoved a hand into it and pulled it out, although he noticed that the thing looked a lot different than he remembered it being.
   “Don't remember this having a gold case,” Lucas remarked as he pressed the power button to take it out of sleep mode. He would've realized the wallpaper was different from his usual as well, but his focus was on the singular message displayed on the screen.
Arti 💙 heading to your apartment now did you ever come up with someplace to actually go for our date??
   Lucas tilted his head. Date? Who the heck was this guy?? Come to think of it, whose phone even is this?! There were a lot of questions crossing the man’s mind, but in the end he decided to do the most logical thing and answer the text as if it were his own phone.
You nope
   With that Lucas put the phone back into sleep mode. He wasn't really sure who this Arti was or whose phone he was currently in possession of but truthfully he didn't really care all that much. He just felt like chilling out here for a bit before heading back out, probably for another late night skate session. Although after another few seconds a single thought crossed his mind.
   …who's to say that Arti fellow wouldn't be a good time?
   Lucas smiled. Perhaps he was going to be staying here for just a bit longer…
149 notes · View notes
ampheenix · 5 months ago
Text
If we stayed connected, would I be forced to change?
TAGS: mizuena, getting together, flirting, texting, fluff and angst, 5k
SUMMARY:
Wait a second. Ena froze.
There was… there was no way she had accidentally posted that sketch of Mizuki on her social media account, was there? That was insane, she would never make such a stupid mistake, so matter how sleep-addled her brain was.
Please let it be posted to the art account, please let it be posted to the art account, Ena begged to herself. That she could deal with - hardly anyone would see it anyway, she thought bitterly.
Terrified thoughts roaring in her mind, she opened the app, frantically wishing that her internet would load faster, fuck!
And then… it loaded… and Ena sat there, aghast.
---
Or, Ena accidentally uploads an incredibly detailed sketch of Mizuki to her public social media, instead of the Nightcord server.
…and it’s not nearly as disastrous as she’d expected.
Mizuki had been acting… different, lately.
Ena chewed on the end of her pencil, brows furrowed in suspicion.
She had always been the teasing type, but she seemed to have upped the ante as of late. A little wink here, a little smirk there, just a touch more flirty than the usual. And especially with Ena.
The most irritating thing about it was that no one in Nightcord had even noticed the subtle changes in her behaviour – or if they had, they hadn’t said anything, which was even worse!
Maybe she was just being paranoid, or overthinking it… but agh, it was so obvious!! Why wasn’t anyone pointing it out, raising an eyebrow, anything?!
Hell, the other day… all of them were in voice chat and in response to Ena making a comment about how tired her hands were from sketching, and how she wished they would cramp up less, Mizuki had been all “and here I thought you were good with your hands!”
That playful tone, commented with a flirty wink as she rested her chin on her hand, had made Ena’s mouth drop open immediately.
Then, after a brief factory reset, she had complained with a hint of pink in her cheeks, being all “ha ha, very funny!! My hands are actually so sore, the least you could do is appreciate my efforts… and at least I’m meeting my deadlines, unlike you!”
And sure, Mizuki said stuff like that all the time, but – argh!
Ena buried her head in her hands, flushing madly. It was different now, for some reason!! And she just couldn’t put her finger on why exactly!
Well, whatever, Ena huffed to herself.
There was no use thinking so hard about it, and stress was bad for the skin, so unless she wanted to break out she needed her thoughts to shut up.
With a tired sigh, Ena ran a hand through her hair, mussing up the silky brown strands. She attempted to turn her train of thought back to the drawing she was supposed to be working on.
Right, so she had a basic head-and-torso draft here… But, hmmm, maybe she could try using this perspective instead, to highlight the silhouette and make it stand out more…
She erased guidelines and pencilled in soft features, bright eyes and a head tilted just so, a hand raised in the beginnings of a wave, fingers delicately posed.
Ena lost herself in the sketch, pencil strokes filling the page. Absent mindedly, she added a touch of lace there on the skirt, soft lips raised in a hint of a smile, long legs, a cute bow and long-lashed eyes…
A black fineliner captured the details, the way light pink strands cascaded in a ponytail over her shoulder, creamy skin and soft cheekbones, a freckle on her elbow and chipped nail polish on her ring finger…
Before she knew it, the birds outside her window were singing, the sky was starting to lighten outside, and the subject of her thoughts was staring out at her from the page.
Ena nibbled on her lip, frustrated now. Well… at the very least, it had turned out an excellent piece. Considering she saw Mizuki so often, it wasn’t a surprise Ena had captured her essence so perfectly.
Maybe… Eugh, it would no doubt be embarrassing, but it really was such a great sketch…
Before Ena could think too hard about it (her spur-of-the-moment decision likely influenced by the bags under her eyes and lack of sleep in her brain) she was pulling up the camera app on her phone and snapping a photo.
Within a moment, it was uploaded to the Nightcord server.
“Practice sketch!” Ena hurriedly typed after. She couldn’t let Mizuki get a big head, after all. She had just happened to draw her by mistake, it’s not like she had put a lot of effort in or anything!
And with those comforting lies, Ena was out for the count – she hadn’t had caffeine at all in the past six hours, it was a wonder she’d lasted so long really… and she could already feel her eyes starting to droop.
Stretching her arms back and letting out a huge yawn, she stumbled into her bed, barely managing to yank the covers over her head before plummeting into dreamland.
When she awoke, hours later, it was to the sound of loud dinging.
Head still heavy on the pillow and eyes sealed shut with exhaustion, Ena raised an arm and slapped the snooze button on her clock – so sue her, she wanted some more sleep after an all-nighter.
But for some reason, the dinging didn’t stop. Already irritated, Ena managed to sit up in her bed, rubbing at her sandy eyes. God, why wouldn’t it shut up? She was so tired, shit… maybe this was her karma for her terrible sleep schedule…
Blinking bleary eyes, Ena’s vision slowly came into focus, enough for her to recognize her phone vibrating on her desk. She didn’t remember setting an alarm on there… was someone calling her?
Suddenly, Ena felt wide awake, shoving back her covers as she jumped to her feet. Because that dinging… that was her social media notification tone, wasn’t it?
Oh god… was Mizuki annoyed that she had tried drawing her? Did they all hate her sketch or something? Ena didn’t think she’d said anything weird, all she’d done was send the image on the group chat.
Ena grabbed her phone and collapsed into her desk chair, sinking into the soft cushions  with a sense of dread as it unlocked. Huh, it was noon already? Wait- wait a minute, 99+ notifications on her home screen, what the hell?!
All of them read the same way, pretty much. So-and-so liked and commented on her post, which would be fine, except she hadn’t posted on her social media last night.
Wait a second.
Ena’s mind froze, going into overdrive.
There was… there was no way she had accidentally posted that sketch of Mizuki on her social media account, was there? That was insane, out of the damn question, she would never make such a stupid mistake no matter how sleep-addled her brain was!
Please let it be posted to the art account, please let it be posted to the art account, Ena begged to herself. That she could deal with - hardly anyone would see it anyway, she thought bitterly.
Terrified thoughts roaring in her mind, she opened the app, frantically wishing that her internet would load faster, dammit!
And then… it loaded… and Ena sat there, aghast.
Because of all the horrible nightmare scenarios that had been rocketing around her mind, this- this hadn’t even been on the list, it made no sense, it- what the fuck???
Because yeah, she had accidentally uploaded her art on her social media, the one that actually had followers, the one where she posted cute selfies of herself.
Which ordinarily, would be the most humiliating experience ever, as it would probably get like fifty likes and one or two nice comments made out of pity, and Ena would never live it down.
But… her art of Mizuki, which she had posted on her public social media…
It had gone viral. Insanely viral. A level of viral that none of her selfies, although popular, had ever reached.
A shaky, disbelieving smile started to spread across Ena’s face as she read the comment section, filled with praise to the point where it was ridiculous. People… people loved all the small details in her drawing, the care taken with each line, the small additions of colour that really brought life to the sketch…
They’d noticed how much effort she’d put into making Mizuki feel real. In not drawing her as some generic airbrushed cute girl, but depicting her as a living, breathing person.
Ena could hardly believe it. She scrolled and scrolled through the comments, looking for one backhanded compliment, one negative remark, literally anything.
Sure, there were a handful of toxic comments as per usual, but the amount of people responding to those comments and arguing with them, calling them out on their bullshit and cutting them down….
With a jolt, Ena realized tears were prickling in her eyes. She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes with her sleeve and hardly able to believe any of it, smile bright enough to light up the sky, because-
Her dad had been wrong. So, so wrong.
And she’d finally proved that beyond a shadow of a doubt, or so it felt like it. People LOVED her art, they really did! This was proof!
There was just one thing niggling at the back of Ena’s mind, as although all these strangers adoring her art and heaping praise upon it was the best feeling in the world…
Well, there were three people’s opinions that she valued more than any stranger’s.
A lump of anxiety in the back of her throat (but a small, unshakeable smile still on her face despite it), she exited the app and opened up Nightcord.
There were 3 unread messages in their group chat, and… 1 DM from Mizuki.
Steeling herself, Ena opened the group chat first.
10:09 AM
K: @enanan, your drawing of mizuki seems to have really taken off! I’m glad :)
10:32 AM
Yuki: It’s a good sketch. Better than her usual art. I’m not surprised.
10:35 AM
K: I wonder why it was posted at 5am though? perhaps she stayed up all night
K: if you did, hope you’re having a good sleep, ena
K: you deserve it after your hard work
Ena initially felt her smile brighten from Kanade’s kind words – supportive, as always. As she read, her lips twisted at Mafuyu’s backhanded compliment, but oh well… that was practically a standing ovation, coming from her.
Ena typed back a quick appreciative response, not letting Yuki’s snide words slide but still appreciating the compliment overall.
 And then… Mizuki.
Her finger hovered over the chat button, paralysed by indecision. She almost.. didn’t want to know what her best friend thought of her sketch. Everyone else loved it, but- well, what if Mizuki hated it?
What if she was irritated that Ena hadn’t asked first before drawing her, or was annoyed that she hadn’t gotten it quite right? Or angry that she had posted it publicly without asking??
Lost in a turmoil of negative thoughts, Ena didn’t notice her finger accidentally touching the screen and opening the chat. She jolted with surprise, eyes immediately darting to read the screen.
5:32 AM
Amia: :)
Wh- what the hell is that supposed to mean?!?!
All anxiety immediately left Ena’s mind, scowling as she typed back a response.
1:13 PM
Enanan: What the hell is that supposed to mean ?! (╬▔皿▔)╯
Just say u love my drawing or say u hate it like a normal person u weirdo
Minutes passed without a response, despite Amia’s status remaining stubbornly bright green and online. What gives?
Ena felt indecision return to her thoughts.
Maybe… shit, she really should have asked first!!
1:20 PM
Enanan: btw sorry I didn’t ask u first or anything, I actually didn’t mean to post it
I was so sleep deprived I accidentally did that instead of sending it to the gc lmao
Ena fidgeted as she sat back in her chair, glancing to where the sketch sat on her desk. It looked the same as it had last night, still maybe one of the best pieces she’d drawn… well, if Mizuki didn’t like it, that was her loss!
Ena huffed to herself, folding her arms. It really didn’t matter that much, it was just a drawing. Maybe she should just go back to sleep, or something…
Then, she heard her phone ding with the Nightcord notification tone, and she instantly grabbed her phone, nearly throttling it in her hands as she willed it to unlocked faster.
1:25 PM
Amia: oh
that makes sense, u would never post ur art to ur selfie acc on purpose
Ena hesitated before responding.
Something felt… off, for some reason.
Mizuki wasn’t using emojis, and maybe it was just the lack of tone indicators but – it felt like she was upset about something.
1:26 PM
Enanan:
well duh!! (ノ`Д)ノ
still so shocked it blew up like that tho
guess ppl loved the way I drew u lol
Ena typed that last sentence with a sense of boldness, wondering if Mizuki would pick up what she was putting down.
That she had tried really, really hard to capture Mizuki in her element, and that the main reason people loved it was that she had succeeded.
Anyway, she had absolutely no clue what Mizuki was seemingly upset about… hopefully it wasn’t because of her.
1:28 PM
Amia: mmm
congrats on that, ur art’s finally getting loads of attention even tho it was on accident haha
Ena frowned. Okay, now she was sure something was wrong.
1:29 PM
Enanan: hey are u allg?
I might just be overthinking but u sound upset
R u jealous now that I’m famous ♪(´▽`)
1:30 PM
Amia: you WISH
Just u wait one of my edits is gonna become “that one edit” on tiktok any day now
( •̀ ω •́ )✧
Ena let out a sigh of relief. Okay, phew, maybe Mizuki was just tired or something, or maybe she had been overthinking this entire time.
1:31 PM
Amia: and btw dw, I’m fine
was just surprised ig
1:31 PM
Enanan: surprised at what?
With a shock, Ena realizes something, scrolling up their messages.
Mizuki’s odd tone started after… after Ena had told her posting the drawing publicly had been an accident.
Was she disappointed? Shit, Ena hadn’t meant to like, imply something about her appearance or anything like that, Mizuki was stunning both in-person and within the drawing and she knew it.
…Right?
1:31 PM
Amia: doesn’t matter
ur art rocks
it’s about time ppl noticed :3
Ena didn’t want to assume… maybe she hadn’t even said anything wrong.
Mizuki seemed fine now, so she shouldn’t push it.
1:32 PM
Enanan: since when r u this supportive
ur always saying my art would be nothing w/out ur editing skills (*  ̄︿ ̄)
1:33 PM
Amia: and it would be
the sketch u posted today didn’t need any editing tho
srsly it’s actually so good ^0^
even yuki thought so, that’s how yk it’s genuine lmao
Ena smiled with pride, cheeks flushing. So Mizuki had liked her sketch after all… well, of course she did. Mizuki always liked her art – although she made fun of it too much for Ena’s liking.
1:35 PM
Enanan: stop ur being too nice its weirding me out
ur right abt the yuki part thoo (* ̄▽ ̄*)ブ
and anyways idk what ur on abt, my art is always better w ur editing
yin and yang or whatever
1:36 PM
Amia: look who’s being weirdly nice NOW
1:36 PM
Enanan: TRAITOR
YOU TRICKED ME
u always make me say the stupidest things w/out realizing omfg
1:36 PM
Amia: o(*°▽°*)o
all part of the charm
Ena let out a light laugh as she rolled her eyes, resting her head on her hand.
1:37 PM
Enanan: please, what charm
You’re about as charming as a stink bug (¬_¬ )
1:38 PM
Amia: ur so cruel enaaaaa
can’t believe I’m friends w you(︶^︶)
I gotta say tho, I’m surprised how many details u got right on ur sketch
I mean u even got the freckle on my elbow (=•ω<=)ρ⌒☆
Ena paused, feeling her cheeks redden. Well that was embarrassing, Mizuki had noticed? Jeez, it wasn’t like it was on purpose…
1:40 PM
Enanan: well what were u expecting, I’m an artist
It’s my job to notice those thingsss
1:41
Amia: sure but like wow, to that extent? surpassed my expectations enanan, didn’t know u were so observant ~( ̄▽ ̄)~*
u even drew my fave ribbon with the fraying on the side, and the exact shade of nail polish I wear ~ impressive!
Ena buried her head in her hands, EXTREMELY regretting the level of detail she’d put into the sketch. Mizuki would never let it go now, ugh… this was humiliating…
1:43 PM
Enanan: keep talking that way and I won’t be sketching u again anytime soon
o(一︿一+)o
1:44 PM
Amia: awww am I embarrassing u
it’s not MY fault u drew me so well
then again the source material  was gorgeous already so it’s not like it could’ve turned out bad in the first place <3
Ena let out a heavy sigh… Mizuki was kind of right, in a way. She was stunning, after all, it’d have been difficult to mess up a drawing with her as the subject.
1:45 PM
Enanan: should’ve known you’d get a big ego from this…
1:45 PM
Amia: you didn’t deny it
:3
1:46 PM
Enanan: …
Stfu  ̄へ ̄
1:46 PM
Amia: HAHAHA I KNEW IT (≧∇≦)
Ena bit her lip, considering. A small, teasing smile started to creep across her face.
1:46 PM
Enanan: I don’t get why ur surprised honestly
 Ur literally gorgeous
1:49 PM
Amia: ur being sarcastic aren’t u… ur so cruel enanan ~(>_<。)\
Ena frowned.
1:49 PM
Enanan: no I’m not u dummy
Ur cute and u own it, idk why ur always trying to get me to admit that
1:50 PM
Amia: oh stop being silly, ik ur not being srs
There’s no need to be so mean ( ˘︹˘ )
Ena’s frown deepened. What? Ugh, since when was Mizuki so bad at just taking the compliment?
Then again, it was true that Ena rarely, if ever, complimented her… well, she didn’t state it aloud, anyway. Mizuki always knew what she meant whenever she was being stubborn about admitting something, so there never any need to say the praise out loud.
Had she really never outright given Mizuki praise before? Ena’s brows furrowed.
This was embarrassing, but… she should keep pushing, otherwise she’d feel like a bad friend.
1:51 PM
Enanan: jeez, ur so bad at taking a compliment
my sketch reflected how pretty u are u dummy, I didn’t put so much effort into it just for u to refuse to admit ur cute all of a sudden
Ena waited for a response, feeling her cheeks warm. Why was Mizuki taking so long to respond?
The three dots indicating her friend typing appeared at the beginning of the screen for a few seconds, and then vanished.
Ena raised an eyebrow.
The three dots appeared once more, then… gone.
After what felt like ages, a new message finally popped up.
1:59 PM
Amia: well obviously I know I’m cute, but it took me off guard to hear you say it yourself, enanan (〜 ̄▽ ̄)〜 so bold!
2:00 PM
Enanan: idk I just realized I’d never actually told u upfront and I felt like an asshole
jeez, don’t tell me ur getting an even bigger head now…
2:01 PM
Amia: aha, so that’s it! I was wondering why you were being so honest, it’s unlike you
And how can I not get a big head when I’m told how pretty I am by my dear Enanan? ~
O(* ̄▽ ̄*)o
2:01 PM
Enanan: I’m always honest, screw you!!
Ena felt heat spread across her face despite her annoyance, smiling like an idiot. What was all this about “dear Enanan?” Mizuki was so embarrassing, god.
Not seeing her friend typing, she swiped off the app, going to check her social media again.
Ena’s eyes promptly bugged out of her head. IT HAD DOUBLED IN LIKES?! This was insane… at this rate, she wouldn’t be surprised if her friends from her old art class stumbled across it.
She swiped back to her chat with Mizuki, typing out a message.
2:04 PM
Enanan: good god, did u see my social media
It’s blowing up now even more than before
maybe I should draw u more often lmao
2:05 PM
Amia: I did see it, it’s only natural it should blow up so much when I’m the subject :3
as they say in the west, u should draw me like one of ur french girls enanan – bet that would get loads of likes too ( •̀ ω •́ )✧
Almost instantaneously, heat blossomed across Ena’s cheeks, and she buried her head in her hands for what felt like the third time in the last fifteen minutes. Mizuki, damn it – how was she not embarrassed, making jokes like that?!
2:07 PM
Enanan: you are incorrigible
2:07 PM
Amia: I don’t know the meaning of the word >:)
Ena let out a laugh, tapping away on her phone.
2:08 PM
Enanan: anyway, last time I checked if I drew you like “one of my french girls” I’d get banned u idiot
2:08 PM
Amia: oh, so if that wasn’t a problem, you’d do it then?
2:10 PM
Enanan: I’m not even going to respond to that
ur the worst
I never see u teasing K or yuki like that (*  ̄︿ ̄)
There was a suspicious silence for a few minutes, while Ena slowly realized something.
Why was it only her that was the subject of Mizuki’s ruthless flirting?
2:15 PM
Amia: why, they’re nowhere near as fun to tease, enanan ♪(´▽`)
And besides, if I tried flirting with yuki like that, I think I wouldn’t survive it – she’d give me a look so icy-cold I’d freeze 〒▽〒
Well, that made sense… but was that really all there was to it? Ena paused, hesitant.
2:16 PM
Enanan: guess that makes sense
I actually have no idea how kanade would react if u tried that on her
she might just stare at u silently
2:17 PM
Amia: I wouldn’t dare tease kanade like that, I have too much respect for her :3
2:18 PM
Enanan: don’t think I didn’t miss that implication…
what a shame, guess if u don’t respect me I won’t be able to draw u again
2:19 PM
Amia: NONO PLS IM SORRY
2:19 PM
Enanan: nope, too late
ur loss
2:19 PM
Amia: (;´д`)ゞ
why have u forsaken me..
2:20 PM
Enanan: if u don’t want me to be mean, then don’t insult me to my face!! >:(
2:20 PM
Amia: I take it back… I respect you so, so much enanan, I am but a humble servant before her queen o(* ̄▽ ̄*)ブ
2:20 PM
Enanan: that’s more like it
2:20 PM
Amia: all I can do is kneel before ur throne and kiss ur feet in apology (;′⌒`)
Ena grimaced.
2:21 PM
Enanan: ok ew no need to go that far
2:21 PM
Amia: well, perhaps in apology I could kiss somewhere else then (○` 3′○)
Almost instantaneously, heat spread like a rash across her cheeks. God, Ena didn’t know how much more of this she could take.
2:21 Pm
Enanan: I am actually going to scalp you
2:21 PM
Amia: …on the cheek, of course!
gosh, ur so dirty minded! :0
Flushing, Ena bit her lip in hesitation, before finally addressing the elephant in the room that only appeared to be visible to her.
2:22 PM
Enanan: okay seriously, what is it with the teasing?? (╬▔皿▔)╯
I swear ur doing it way more than u used to
and the others don’t even notice for some reason- literally why?!
2:22 PM
Amia: I already told u why! It’s fun :3
2:23 PM
Enanan: what, do u just love flustering me or smth?? Is that ur idea of fun ( ˘︹˘ )
For some reason, after that, Mizuki stopped responding for a while. Ena fully thought her friend had gone to eat lunch or something, and turned back to her sketch.
Then, after what felt like ages, her phone pinged.
2:59 PM
Amia: maybe
I mean, I didn’t realize u got so flustered purely by my silly teasing (╯▽╰ )
Fuck!!
Ena shoved her sketchbook to the side, grip tightening on her phone. Her cheeks felt hot all of a sudden, as she realized that Mizuki had no idea that her flirting had been having such an effect on her.
And now she knew just how flustered she’d been!! Ena grimaced- this was humiliating. She instantly went into damage control mode.
2:59 PM
Enanan: I don’t get that flustered, don’t flatter urself ( ˘︹˘ )
I get like… idk
The normal amount of flustered
whatever that is
Ena worried at her lip, anxiety making her throat feel tight. That response was fine, right? Mizuki wasn’t going to think she was weird, was she?
Her eyes didn’t stray from the three dots bouncing on the bottom of the screen, finally relenting when a message came through.
3:02 PM
Amia: real slick ena <3
ur not falling for me are u (=•ω<=)ρ⌒☆
Mizuki had completely gotten the wrong idea, how embarrassing!! Jeez, there was no coming back from this one… Humiliated, Ena tried to swallow down the lump in her throat, and with a jolt, realized that tears were starting to well up in her eyes.
She was… she was a bit too invested. Why did she care so much about this? Why did she feel so damn anxious? It was embarrassing, but- but not that embarrassing.
Ena leaned back in her chair as she pushed her phone away, hands fisted tightly in her skirt. Her gaze was heavy as it rested on the floor. Her thoughts began to unravel like a ball of thread.
There was no way Mizuki’s joke just now was true, was there? Ena’s deathgrip on her skirt tightened. That was silly, there was just no way- like sure, she cared about her, Mizuki was her best friend after all, but falling for her? Pfft.
Plus, Ena wasn’t gay. She hadn’t really had any crushes on guys before, but that was normal, wasn’t it? She hadn’t liked any girls either, so it evened out.
She was straight, she always had been, jeez. Mizuki was just making some stupid joke.
So why was Ena… why was she close to tears? Her lip was nearly being worried to pieces, humiliation spreading in scarlet across her cheeks, and all the while her heart, it- it hurt.
She felt physical pain in her chest, along with a sense of despair. Ena let out a heavy sob, and then another one, breath starting to come faster.
She- god, she really did like Mizuki, didn’t she. She liked her best friend.
Which meant she was one of them, and that she was… hell, she was practically a pervert. Disgusting. She let out a choked cry, fingers digging into her arms.
They were such close friends, fuck, had Ena been creeping on her this entire time? She was- she was disgusting, sickening, and such an awful person- why was Mizuki even friends with her? She definitely wouldn’t be after this mess.
Mizuki was going to find out the truth, and then she was going to lose her. Slowly but surely, tears started to trickle down Ena’s cheeks, as her arms came up, cradling her head as she rocked back and forth.
What was she going to do?
In the midst of a breakdown, she barely heard the buzz of her phone. She scrabbled at her desk for it, grabbing it and pulling it to her chest as her eyes frantically scanned the screen.
3:15 PM
Amia: enaaaaa where did u go 💔
when I said falling I didn’t mean literally fall, did u lose consciousness lmao
Ena let out a strangled sound that was half-sob, half-laughter. She scrubbed at her tears with her sleeve, watching as her best friend continued to type.
3:16 PM
Amia: or is it true that u have fallen for me after all ~( ̄▽ ̄)~*
wow maybe ur so in love that u fainted after seeing my message
well my dear enanan, just say the word and we can elope togetherヽ( ̄ω ̄( ̄ω ̄〃)ゝ
Maybe… maybe Mizuki wouldn’t be as disgusted as she’d thought. She’d always been open-minded, after all.
Ena’s nails dug into her skin, as she squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to get the pain to distract her from her stupid, stupid thoughts. That was ridiculous, she had to play it safe. She couldn’t risk it.
How to respond, how to respond…
3:18 PM
Enanan:  please, I wouldn’t marry you even if u held a gun to my head
you’d probably try to make me do all the chores and spend all your time sewing
3:18 PM
Amia: I’m not hearing a no! (* ̄▽ ̄*)
and wow, u wound me… if anything, you’d make me do all the work and spend ur time preening in front of a mirror like a peacock! :3
Ena let out a stunned snort, a watery smile returning to her face. Mizuki wasn’t wrong.
3:19 PM
Enanan: well, even if we eloped I doubt ur the romantic type
I’d probably divorce u within a week bc you’d love ur outfit mannequin more than me
 ̄へ ̄
3:19 PM
Amia: lies and slander!!
I would be SO romantic
3:19 PM
Enanan: yeah right
3:19 PM
Amia: well, that’s rich coming from u considering I was able to fluster u with my teasing (★ ω ★)
3:20 PM
Enanan: that’s different
3:20 PM
Amia: how exactly? :3
Ena clenched her jaw, frustrated. God, why was Mizuki pushing this subject so much? Why couldn’t they just move on and forget all of that had ever happened?
3:20 PM
Enanan: it just is
Ur my best friend it makes sense that you’d tease me like that, even if it drives me insane(╬▔皿▔)╯
3:20 PM
Amia: enaaaaa ur so dense
I’m not teasing u like that just bc ur my best friend
( ˘︹˘ )
What was Mizuki on about now? Ena knew the teasing wasn’t because “she had funny reactions,” there were plenty of people Mizuki could tease if that was the case, so why her?
3:21 PM
Enanan: well then why
Just be honest u dunce >:(
3:21 PM
Amia: u want me to be honest?
idk if I can be :>
maybe first u should be honest about why my teasing flusters u so much
Slowly, Ena’s eyes widened, static filling her head. What the hell. What the actual hell was this. Did Mizuki know?
Had Mizuki known the whole time, even though Ena had only realized a few minutes ago?
With dawning realization, she scrolled back up and reread her friend’s messages, but this time in a different light.
Mizuki… Mizuki couldn’t be honest about why she was teasing her, just like how Ena couldn’t be honest about why the teasing had flustered her. Did that mean…?
She took the leap, fingers shaking slightly.
3:23 PM
Enanan: mizuki
be honest rn
yk I won’t judge u for anything
If Ena was right, the situation was very, very mixed. Because on one hand, they’d both like eachother… like that… and the sheer idea had vicious butterflies attacking her stomach.
But on the other, it would mean Ena liked girls.
And she- she didn’t really know what to think about that. Or even where to begin thinking about that.
There was silence from Mizuki for a while, as she waited with bated breath. It was the longest twenty minutes of Ena’s life.
Her heart jumped in her throat as she finally saw that her friend was typing. Come on, come on… she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this high-strung. Then the typing animation disappeared, and she slumped.
And after a twenty agonizing minutes that seemed to drag on for hours, she glared at her screen. Because Mizuki’s icon had changed to the little grey circle that indicated she was offline.
What the fuck?! Ena finally had the courage to make a move, hating herself all the while, and this was all she got?!
Fuming, she tossed her phone to the side, letting out a frustrated sound. She had given her the perfect opening! The stage was set, for god’s sake!
Maybe… shit, what if she’d misread the situation completely? Did Mizuki think she was weird? Was that why she was being ghosted?
Ena was sick of this. She needed to do something, anything, or she was going to lose it. Her eyes scanned her room, searching for a distraction.
Maybe she could try out a new makeup look? Try and style that pink skirt that was stubbornly refusing to pair with her other clothes? Or…
Her stomach grumbled, obnoxiously loudly, and she rolled her eyes. Okay, maybe should take care of her basic bodily functions first.
Everything else could wait.
And if Mizuki didn’t text back by nightfall, she was going to break into her stupidly pretty best friend’s house and force her at knifepoint to type out a response.
(This is chapter 1! Next and final chapter out soon <3)
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spiribia · 4 months ago
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for a long stretch of my life since childhood observing other kids making small flipbook animations i felt that animation was something that other people could get how to do but that i couldn't. regrettably my oldest attempt has been lost forever to old laptop and defunct tinypic upload, but even when you look at my later 2014 animation, you can see a trace of how i just felt absent some kind of intuition of what to draw for each frame to give the illusion of fluid motion.
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there was one clarion moment a few years ago when i was watching a warrior cats youtube animator's animation progress stream, and as soon as i opened the video, they toggled between two keyframes that looked kind of like this, one after the other:
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i remember this moment clearly because it was like a lightning bolt had hit my brain. i understood how to draw a fox coiled up as if to jump, and i understood how to draw a fox jumping. animation was literally just that, and the several interpolations between them, a fox starting to push off the ground, a fox just leaving the ground, etc., all of which i could draw a still image of if you asked. now thread them together. you are probably wondering how i didn't already realize this is how it worked, but it just never ever clicked in my mind until this one brilliant second, after which i immediately exited the tab in shock and never even saw any more of this life altering fox animation
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loomingcastle · 7 months ago
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You’re Weird, part 1
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Part 2 (will be uploaded soon)
—RANT—
Sorry if the words are weird looking, I was experimenting with custom fonts but my drawing app didn’t let me upload it so I was forced (after an hour or so of searching for a solution) to resort to taking screenshots. Like, the laptop version allowed custom fonts to be uploaded but not the mobile?? 😭
I had the files, I had everything ready but then it just didn’t have the button to upload it. I go to the official website, guess what? The laptop version has it. I try looking for the mobile, nope. You can change text font but no customs cause fuck mobile users I guess djodwskfmow
Sketchbook is my one and only beloved app but it has its issues with being different on mobile and laptop. Like, I think laptop has blur but mobile doesn’t. Which, you can see my awful attempt at blurring Ink in the second to last panel on the third image. I just, I don’t know anymore.
Also the custom font looks cool kinda. It’s my own handwriting. I didn’t think my handwriting could actually be decent when I’m not rushing it. But also, it looks too thin and I think that’s one of the main reasons it looks weird. I could’ve probably fixed this easily but I didn’t feel like it-
But also, I could just be a huge dumbass and someone else who uses Sketchbook can go all Gordon Ramsey on me “You fucking donut”
Okay uh, rant over? Help I need someone to rant to about stuff ahah (I’m not okay)
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guiltiestlove · 6 months ago
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you're so right, simon would be a needy guy lmao
soooo how about #15 from the smut prompts with simon :) he deserves to be taken care of
(I'll be 🥩 anon)
It’s been a long week and your boyfriend, Simon Blackquill, needs you.
Simon Blackquill x gn reader ~1080 words
N/SFW, MDNI !
cw/tags: blowjob, facefucking, deepthroating, hairpulling, kinda rough sex, petnames, established relationship
notes: i plan on editing/expanding on this a bit and uploading to ao3 bc hey i keep getting carried away LOL im still remembering how to write short things apparently lmfao
Your boyfriend had burst through the apartment door with a groan. Distractedly muttering grievances to himself, he neglected to see your resting figure on the couch and headed straight toward your shared room. While Friday evenings were usually scheduled for just the two of you, he had been tasked to stay late and finish up some particularly demanding casework today.
Thrilled to finally spoil your lover after such a grueling week, you quietly lift yourself off the sofa and make your way to the bedroom. The door’s hinges quietly squeak as you push the door fully open and rest your hand on the knob. The slightest smirk creeps up your face. “Hey, baby. Rough day?”
Simon’s eyes light up as he turns to you, like a switch is flipped. “Darling…” Having only taken off his coat and shoes, he stands hip cocked, tie askew. It’s a view somewhere between professional and casual that only you get to see. And it’s such a gorgeous view. He continues as you stare. “I did not see you in the living room.” With a hungry look of his own, he rolls up the sleeves of his white dress shirt, drawing your attention to his hands and arms. He takes one step forward, his eyes somehow focusing even more on you. “I assumed you to still be out picking up groceries.” You don’t even let him finish. Eagerly you move alongside him, grabbing his arm and dragging you both onto the bed.
With a huff you’ve pulled the large man on top of you, much to his surprise but even more to his delight. You respond intending to tease him slightly, “I got home a few hours ago! In fact I was waiting so very patiently for the most handsome man to come through the do—“ He’s staring at your lips and letting you speak until he can’t take it anymore. He interrupts you mid-taunt, and his lips feverishly meet yours, while your arms gladly wrap around his neck.
Almost begrudgingly, his mouth pulls away from yours. “You see, my patience has grown too thin, my love.” He can’t bear to move any farther away from you than this. Already your legs are tangled, breath fanning each other’s faces with hands running through hair. You search his face at this response—you want to see the fire in his eyes. But he greedily buries his face in your neck and grinds against you with pure desire. He leans toward your ear. “I need you. Please.”
You’d do anything for him in this moment. Now he’s biting and panting down your neck, and you can barely get your sentence out between moans. “Ah, Simon, tell me what you want, baby. Hhh-Anything for my good boy.” You feel him press his dick against you even harder, and your own wants are growing more difficult to ignore by the second. Managing to untangle himself from you for a brief moment, he unzips his pants and positions himself against the headboard, short of breath already. “My cock.. please.”
He watches you slink out of your shirt, and for a moment you’re still. His eyes are soaking in every inch of you as you then lick your lips and speak. “Simon…” You’re on your hands and knees now. “What do you want me to do to it? Tell me what you need.”
He takes a deep breath attempting to steady himself. “Your perfect mouth engulfing my cock. I need your warmth around me… I—I need you to devour me, my dove. Please. I beg.” He can barely get out the last words, he’s already so worked up.
You crawl towards him, slowly pulling down his briefs with your teeth. He hisses and slams his head back with probably too much force, but it’s an excited reflex. On your knees, you reach and feel up his sides while you arch your back, savoring his moans. Scraping your nails down his torso, you can’t wait any longer, and you lick from the base of his shaft to the tip, eliciting a drawn-out whine from your boyfriend. Caressing his balls with one hand, you slowly wrap your other around the base of his shaft and begin lightly kissing the tip of his cock.
His gaze could burn a hole through you, he wouldn’t dare take his eyes off this gorgeous sight. He carefully runs a hand through your hair and you lean into his touch. “I think you should—“ You kiss his hand. “—take what you need.” His face somehow turns paler, and his cock twitches in your hand. “A—ah..don’t hesitate to double tap, my love.” Your eyes are uncharacteristically blown out, and you throw a pillow onto the floor, clamboring down as quickly as possible. You can’t move or get the words out quick enough. “Of course—now please, Simon!”
The look on your face mixed with your desperate pleas gives him an intoxicating feeling of desire. You catch a glimpse of a sly, proud smile as he repositions himself. As he grabs a fistful of your hair, you excitedly grab at his hips and take him into your mouth. The weight of him on your tongue makes you dig your nails into his skin. Hesitantly he begins thrusting into you, checking your face, but that only turns him on more. Your half-lidded eyes, and dripping mouth are heavenly. His pace quickens and force grows, as you happily let him use your mouth as he needs. The mixture of slopping, wet noise with Simon’s ever-growing whimpering has you trying to grind against the empty air, you’re so desperate.
It’s almost too difficult physically to take him like this, but it feels so good, you don’t care how ruined your face and throat are right now. Moaning around his cock is too much for him. “God. Oh, fuck me. Ah..ah.. going to come..” Your tongue swirls around him, making sure to focus on his sensitive tip, as you forcefully help guide his hips in and out of your mouth at a rhythmic pace. With an ungodly cry and snap of his hips, you feel him release down your throat. The taste is delicious, only for you, and just makes you want more of him.
With a lick you remove his cock from your mouth, your face beautifully stained and hair completely disheveled. Simon is still staring down at you, just more relaxed and certainly more out of breath. He pulls you up for a kiss and whispers in your ear, “Now, my darling, tell me what it is you need.”
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sisterlucifergraphics · 1 month ago
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“How do you make your dividers?”
(PT: “How do you make your dividers?”)
this is a question i get a lot! this is my best attempt at a tutorial. this was requested by @oktavia-is-a-fish ; the only reason i’m not answering their ask is because it was sent to my other blog:]
I am using procreate to make my dividers, but i’m sure this tutorial can be modified and applied to plenty of different applications.
⭐️(please tell me if you see any typos in this, thanks)
very long tutorial below the cut! ⬇️
step 1:
(PT: step one)
if you can, turn on snapping on your art program! this helps you make sure everything is aligned and centered. here’s a video on how to do that in procreate:
youtube
step 2:
(PT: step two)
pick an Object. sometimes i use PNGs, sometimes i use free vectors i find online, sometimes i draw it. whatever you want! for the sake of this demonstration, ill be using this rubber duck:
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which i turned into a transparent PNG using this website:
step 3:
(PT: step three)
create your canvas!
the dimensions i personally use vary depending on the divider. usually it’s 3000x225 for dividers like this:
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3000x330 for dividers like this:
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and 3000x440 for dividers like this, with a character on it:
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in this tutorial i will be making a simple 3000x225 divider, like the first example!
step 4:
(PT: step four)
make your pattern! drop your little guy into your canvas and push him all the way to the left (or right if you prefer, but i usually start at the left) and make sure it’s centered horizontally
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then draw a line as long as you want the objects to be spaced out, and push it right up against (but not overlapping) your object
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then you’re going to duplicate both the line and the object, and select one layer of each
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and you’re going to move it so that the second object is now aligned with the first and pressed right up against (but not overlapping with) the first line
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then merge the two lines with each other and merge the two objects with each other, so you’re back to two layers: one of lines, and one of objects.
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then, repeat the duplication and movement process above!
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repeat this until you have filled the canvas to your liking!
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i like to fit mine to the canvas so it reaches the edges, but you may center it however you’d like!
once you have it centered to your liking, delete the line later. you can now turn off the background and save this image as a PNG.
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congrats !! you have just made a divider!!
i only used one object for this tutorial, but you can use as many as you’d like, and modify this process however you see fit!
thank you for reading, happy graphic making! ✨
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kaalypsoooo · 1 year ago
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I have food for the showtime fans! Of which I am one myself and I just couldn’t resist-
Full fic! ~ (Slight angst,fluff) (Showtime!🎩✨❤️)
Contented ~
Pomni awoke in a panic, sitting up as she heaved out sobs. This alerted the attention of Caine, the Ringleader and caretaker of the digital circus, without a second glance he had simply appeared in pomni’s room, eyes scanning her upset figure.
“Pomni? What’s wrong, my dear?” He floated closer to her, his hand reaching up to rest on her cheek, which Pomni reacted to with more crying. It became hard for her to string together a sentence, her words coming out jumbled and broken.
“I-I’m sorry- I-I don’t w-want you to see me like this-“
She tried to gently push him away, but he remained fixated on her, thinking of anything he could do to ease her sadness. He took her face in his hands, leaning her forehead against his upper set of teeth. He let out a sigh, his gaze piercing hers with nothing but love and affection.
“Ah, it seems like you’ve had another nightmare, don’t worry, I’ll stay in here with you for a while! Okay?”
He gave her a reassuring look, noticing how her gaze softened at his words. He couldn’t help but blush, she was so cute, even crying, he couldn’t get enough of her.
“…Okay.” She looked at him with pleading eyes, her tears slowly but surely stopping in their tracks. “Could we…”
“Hm? What would you like? I am here to provide!” He exclaimed, excited at the thought of being able to spend more time with his little jester.
“Could we cuddle..?” His heart skipped a beat, he wasn’t even sure how that was possible, seeing that he was an AI. With an ever growing grin, he swooped her up into his arms, sprawling out on her bed with her wrapped around him.
“Comfy?” He chimed into the silence of the room, his hands now wrapped around her waist. She nodded, nuzzling up to him like a little kitten. Oh my god, this girl would be the death of him.
She let out a relaxed sigh, beginning to pepper kisses along his jawline. He fully embraced this, drawing her closer to him in a tight hug as she left kiss after kiss on his face.
He chucked at the lips attacking his face, nuzzling his face against her face in an attempt to kiss her back. It was a bit awkward trying to kiss her with just teeth for a face, but she was smiling anyway, obviously enjoying the attention.
After a while of them just lying together in bed, enjoying each other’s company, Pomni began to doze off in his arms, a smile returning to his face as she cuddled up to him sleepily.
“It seems my work is done, perhaps I should go..” He whispered, leaning in to awkwardly kiss her forehead. But apparently, she wasn’t going to let him leave that easily. She tightened her grip around him, as if he couldn’t just teleport away from her right now if he wanted to, but…he didn’t want to. He was truly drawn to her, enamored even.
“Ah- Alright..” He decided to stay, gently patting her head as she conked back out, drooling on his arm as she slept. Others would find it sort of gross, but he found it cute, just watching her sleep for a while as he does not feel the need to sleep. He felt contented in that moment, he had no idea what he had done to deserve this, but he definitely wasn’t complaining.
|Should I upload the second part for yall?
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noginerve · 9 months ago
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Still not dead!
I keep forgetting to upload things here as well. So I shaved off some rust with a couple of things. The first is a mushroom girl OC based off of an inkcap. I made her for a raffle, but I really like how she came out so I'm keeping her. Eventually I have a second mushroom witch idea I want to draw but that'll be whenever. It's also the first attempt at using colored pencils and it turned out alright-ish I think. I'll have to find tips for the future and get some markers to compliment like how I used a black one to blacken the blacks here.
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The second image is a nice and simple picture of Angel Gabby from Angel Hare. The creators of the series' twitter liked the picture and I'm kinda freaking out because she's such a wholesome character and my twitter is full of wild shitposting and horny robot retweets. I hear the designer for Gabby also does bara-adjacent art, but...I still hope they didn't scroll down and get an unwatnted eyeful of CLANG. I'll put my thoughts on the series below the image since they're spoilers and I really think the series should be enjoyed blind.
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biggnansmol · 8 months ago
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Confidential
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-Beginning of transcript-
CONFIDENTIAL INFORMATION. DO NOT REPLICATE.
DATE: [REDACTED] RESEARCHER: [REDACTED]
Subject was captured in [REDACTED]. Subject stands at 13.6 centimetres tall, resembling a human male. Approximate age of the subject is 20 to 25, and is believed to be a descendent of the ‘homo skrinkus’ race, commonly located in [REDACTED]. Communication attempts with subjects have yielded unsatisfactory results. It remains unclear whether the subject is refusing to respond, or simply unable to. Further tests required.
-End of transcript-
Nearly two weeks into July, time for me to upload the second prompt. This one is for 'studying' and the idea was a researcher's notes that they took from observing a borrower-like race. I wasn't really sure how to format it and I ended up typing it out, then drawing it, then hand writing it again, putting it all together and covering it with a fuck ton of filters. I'm not super thrilled with it, but that's my own fault lol.
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tyrantchimeraart · 1 year ago
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My second attempt at a deer-like Alastor (and my THIRD attempt uploading this frickin' art, GAH!!). Anyways I've noticed that a lot of people draw deer Alastor without clothes on and thought it was kind of funny, because going out undressed in public seems too "in-deer-cent" for his refined tastes lol. And then the doodles snowballed...
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