#those two are on the same canvas for no reason other than I felt like drawing both of them in one sitting pf

[soup-for-ghosts]

doodle dump go!

[slu7formen]

MDNI. luke castellan x fem!reader (halloween) 🎃

you prepare luke’s make-up for halloween night

warnings: just pure sexual tension 🫦

₊˚⊹♡

"You´ll be taking care of me, little Red Hood?" Luke asked, sitting down on the wooden chair placed in the middle of the room at cabin eleven.

Your silk red skirt brushed the back of your thighs as you turned around, cleaning the last bit of face paint from a thin brush. "I will, Mr. Castellan" you joked.

The cabin is packed, like most of the time, but today was for a different reason. A bunch of Hermes´ boys were getting their make up done by you and your sisters, the reason? Halloween night. It was kind of a tradition for the Aphrodite cabin to help out with the costumes for the big party. And as much as a pain it is to help all the campers, you couldn´t deny that it was fun to pick out what your friends should be dressing out as for tonight and then doing their makeup to match the costume, and right now, it was time to help the worst breed; the boys.

They were men, therefore, they were basic, they´ve all decided to dress up as skeletons.

Soft pop music was playing inside the cabin as you felt a faint smell of cherries and hot chocolate. It was a comforting yet fun place to be at right now, like a beauty salon, but chill and without the white lights and burning chemical smells. More of your sisters were currently taking care of some other boys´ make up, painting their faces in black and white scary features that would barely make them look human at night, and now, it was Luke´s turn.

Luke´s face was already quite chiseled, like those marble Greek statues. You stepped back a second to take a good look at his face; sharp features, big nose, small eyes, plushy lips. Good, this would be fun.

"Alright" you state, "Just stay still and let me do all the work"

You leaned in slightly, starting to draw the outline of Luke´s face with a white make-up pencil. You and Luke stood silent, unlike the rest of the campers who kept on chatting and screaming at each other due to failed skeleton features. You planned on doing the simple; a white or pale base with black features like eyes, nose, cheekbones and mouth, maybe even some shadows, just like you did with Connor and Travis, who specifically asked for you to prepare them.

"I didn´t know you were so good at this" Luke finally spoke, anticipating to break the ice a little.

"What can I say?" you smiled, "I have many hidden talents"

You continued on, working in the lines, making the transition between the white and his perfectetly tanned skin. He was such a lovely canvas, his skin was clean, and smooth. You were actually a little scared to end up making him look bad. "Your jawline´s perfect" you muttered as you dragged the pencil there, more to yourself than to him.

Luke chuckled, "Is it now?"

You only dart your eyes away from your work to look into his eyes for a second, then back to your progress. Your teeth barely show as you smile a little, glossy red lips only shining brighter. "Okay, don´t get all cocky now" you tease.

Luke was used to flirting with everyone he met, and of course, people flirting back. But seeing you so focused on his face, the pen working on his face with you so close to him, gave him a weird feeling in the pit of his stomach.

You felt so close. Luke could smell a faint scent of cherries coming from you, and the hairspray of your hair. He could almost feel the warmth of your body too, standing so close to him, your body leaning down towards his face, making him look upwards to take a look at your face. You hissed then, taking a soft grip of your lower back, "Shit" you whisper. You were uncomfortable, being hunched over for so long.

"You okay?" Luke asked.

"Yeah" you reply, "Just-, my back´s killing me. I´ve been like this for an hour" you explain, you´ve been in the same position for the past other two boys you prepared.

Luke looked concerned for a second. So he shifted on his seat then, opening his thighs, basically welcoming you.

You stood speechless, pencil in hand as you chuckled softly, unable to react, or move.

"Come on" he urged you softly, his eyes locking on yours as he patted his thigh. You knew he wasn´t inviting you to sit there, —even though he wouldn´t complain if you did—, rather than in between them. "I don´t bite"

You scoff then, shaking your pencil in between your fingers. Your boots step into the tiny space then, back straightened as you only have to look down to Luke´s face, "Sure you don´t" you reply.

He lets out a short chuckle, tilting his face up to maintain eye contact. The air feels weirdly tense. Your fingers take a soft hold of his chin as you tilt his head a little more up, dragging the pencil over the lines once again; just in case. Luke´s eyes remain open, taking a look at your costume.

A deep scarlet skirt almost too short paired with tall, heeled backboots and a white button-up that hugged your figure just perfectly, and the black corset over it did just the rest of the magic, along with, of course, the red silk cape and hood.

"You look great" he muttered out, trying to get a reaction out of you.

You stop your movements for a second, looking at him dead in the eye again, but with a serious face, only to go back to your job as if he said nothing. "Great doesn´t cover it" you reply, tilting your head slightly.

He chuckled at that. You had no idea how right you were. You were gorgeous in that outfit and he could swear you looked like a damn goddess, a vision come to life just to taunt him.

"Cocky-" he muttered with a playful smile.

"Don´t move" you interrupt, leaning down a little bit more just for a second, the thin pencil brushing past the outline of his lips.

Your face was closer to his now, the scent of his cologne made you feel lightheaded.

Luke had that type of aura; the one that was always surrounded by a nice scent. The type that made you want to lean in closer, the type that was warm and comforting, yet he was no sweet pea, but a little more rough. Manly, with his legs spread open like that for you to stand in between, or for you to sit whenever you liked.

And with his face so close to you, you made and observation; Luke was handsome.

Very.

Just when you finished tracing the outlines of his eyes, lips, and cheekbones, you turned around to dip a pencil into some black face paint. Luke remained politely silent, lips closed and hands over his thighs as he followed your every movement. He was watching you intently as you worked. You looked so focused and careful, like it was an important and serious job, and for gods sake, it was Halloween makeup. He wondered if you were just doing it so perfectly to impress him, which was working, and Luke had to admit it was cute to see you so fixated on his face.

He could feel his heart pound in his chest. Sitting there, having you so close, all he could think of was touching you. How could he not when you were wearing such clothes that he loved?

Of course he wouldn´t. He was patient, and he was very much enjoying the game so far. But you were so close , it was so tempting. And he did have a very bad self-control.

You took your sweet time blending the black paint over Luke´s face with a small brush. He was being an obedient boy, sitting still, with no smart remarks coming from his mouth. How rare.

He enjoyed just watching you, watching your expression change slightly as you applied more and more paint on, watching the tip of your tongue dart out of your mouth every once in a while. It was so hard to keep his hands tucked into balled-up fists on his thighs.

But he wouldn´t stop staring at you, your face.

But you stepped back, pencil on your hand and a small smile growing on your glossy lips, but your brows furrow. You were slightly confused. Luke stared back, not a single expression on his face. His face was sharp looking, focused, stone. And the black paint was doing nothing but only making him look more-, attractive.

"Don´t look at me like that" you smile barely, more confused than actually chilled about what was happening.

"Like what?" He asked, the black paint only remarking the scary and sharp features on his now painted face.

You looked a bit flushed, your makeup and hair perfect. But he wanted to mess it up , ruin it a little. He kept staring at you, not bating an eye. "Like-," you cut yourself off, turning slightly to the side to grab a different pencil before dipping it in more black face paint, "Like you´re undressing me with your eyes or something" you say, too shy to say the words loudly, stepping in between the space of his thighs again, too afraid that somebody else would hear you.

Oh, but Luke heard you just right.

He hums quietly, a smirk pulling at his lips at your embarrassed expression.

You´re standing there, in between his thighs again, and he has to force himself to keep his hands in place. He looked up at you, eyes focused on you as you applied the paint on him. And you were so concetrated on the task in front of you, on his face, you didn´t realise how badly he wanted you.

He was hungry, and it took every bit of his self-control to keep from touching you.

"Maybe I am" he responds quietly.

His voice is low, and the tone he uses makes you freeze. His eyes burn into your skin, like he´s daring you to respond, to say something, anything, back. And for the first time, you have nothing to say, no witty response. You just look back into his eyes.

And there is something in them, something that makes your heart beat faster.

He stares back, not moving, not speaking, and the tension is almost palpable. You swallow hard, your throat suddenly dry, and you try to ignore the way your body is reacting. Luke has never had this effect on you before.

“Perv" is the only thing you manage to reply, not even a full sentence, not even speaking fully, just whispering into his face as you go back to your task, you only wanted this to be over now.

You can tell by the way his shoulders are tense that he´s struggling not to move. But he doesn´t, and his silence makes your stomach twist and turn. You know he´s enjoying this, and the fact that he knows what he´s doing to you is almost enough to make you snap.

Luke saw the way he made you blush and trip into your own thoughts, and that was enough for him.

You remained awfully silent for the rest of the time, with Luke´s eyes still piercing through your soul until you´re done. "There" you say as you finish touching up the last bits of shadows onto his lips, "All done" you say softly, walking back to the small table to start cleaning brushes again.

Luke stood up, turning around to face you. His face was completely covered in white and black, his skin was unrecognizable.

He walked over to you slowly, and the way he was moving was almost predatory, like he was stalking his prey. You felt a shiver run down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. The rest of your sisters and his brothers didn´t seem to notice a thing or even try to look to your direction, too busy invested into their own conversations.

You grab a towel, and you feel it-, oh you feel it. Like when someone´s standing behind you, the cold feeling that drips down your spine, ready to attack. Luke places his hand on each side of the table, his chest so close to be pressing to your back, trapping you against the table; and you couldn´t even see him properly.

"Just a question-," he says, clearing his throat briefly, "How effective is the make-up remover?"

Your breathing hitches for a moment. His voice was ridiculously low and whispery against you. You swallow, and the room suddenly feels too hot.

“Um-" you reply, trying to focus on cleaning the brushes instead of the man standing right behind you. "Very. It´ll clean right away, don´t worry" you reply poorly.

"Oh-. no, I wasn´t asking because of me", he replies, and he leans in a little closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You can feel the heat of his breath and it sends a jolt of electricity through your body, "I was asking for you. I don´t wanna leave any mark on your face after you´ve worked so hard on yourself"

Well, who would´ve though this guy was a poet? Hiding meanings behind words?

"That´s very considerate of you" you reply, trying not to sound too eager, but the way your voice cracks tells him all he needs to know.

Luke nods once, a smirk on his lips, and you can practically hear it in his voice. He leans down, his lips grazing the skin of your neck and his nose ghosting over the shell of your ear.

"I´ll make sure you find me", he whispers.

And with that, he steps back, his presence gone as fast as it arrived to the scene. Your hands tremble slightly as you finish putting the last brushes away, and your face burns hot. He had suddenly left you wanting, a feeling you didn´t even have when you first started working on him.

But you had to head back to your cabin now, and fuck-, were you mad you couldn´t get what you wanted now.

Luke surely knew he had started some type of game, your pretty little self caught in between his webs… but the night was only starting, and soon enough, you would be the one trapping him.

[marvelobsessed134]

Life imitates art

A/n: whewww this is one of my favorite things I ever written

Pairings: Beefy!Art Professor!Natasha x Fem!Student!Reader

Warnings: age gap (not specified), Nat has a dick, smut, blowjob, degradation, painting a nude person, reader being that nude person, pervy Nat (?), student/teacher dynamics

Okay so you’ve been failing your art class in college. But it’s really not your fault you’ve just been so caught up with your other classes that you’ve been slacking off.

And of course your professor noticed. Natasha knew she had to talk to you after class because you were one of her top students and now you’ve fallen off the deep end.

So after the lecture and after everyone leaves, leaving their canvases up to dry, the redhead calls you to stay after class.

You walked towards her desk with a nervous feeling in your stomach. You know you’re gonna get some kind of lecture of your own.

“Yes Professor Romanoff?” You asked in a sweet tone hoping you won’t be getting into any trouble with her. Not that she’s a mean professor per se but when a student fails she makes them do an extra project to get their grades up. It’s almost like she loves to torture people!

“Miss Y/n you’ve been failing very miserably in my class. Any particular reason why?” She asked.

You gulped, “Well…you see professor I’ve just been so caught up in my other classes that I’ve kind of been slacking on this one but-“

“So is my class not important to you?”

“No! It’s very important to me I love art and I love painting but I have these two big tests coming up so I haven’t had the time to finish my projects and you know I don’t do half assed work when it comes to my art.”

The redhead smiled a little bit at that, “Yes, which I do admire and appreciate but I’d like you to put more effort into my class.”

You looked down at your feet shamefully, “Yes Professor Romanoff.” You sounded like a scolded child.

“Well,” she stood up and walked over to her empty easel and put a large blank canvas on it. She also put a chair right behind it.

Then she walked back over to you. “You know how to get your grade up in my class. But instead of you painting I want you to be my model. Can you do that?”

The thought of you being her model made your flush, “I guess.”

“Great. Now strip off your clothes.”

“W-what?”

“You heard me. I’ve personally always wanted to have a live nude model in my presence to paint so nows my chance.”

“Professor Romanoff…this is highly inappropriate im your student plus you’re like a decade older than-“

“Do you want those grades or not detka?” The nickname gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Yes I do but-“

“Then do as I say and take your clothes off.” You quickly complied, shakily pulling your shirt over your head and unclasping your bra. Your shoes, socks, jeans, and panties came off next.

“Go sit on that chair over there.” She pointed to the chair that sat in front of the easel. You took a deep breath and walked over to sit down. Your arms resting on the armrests and your legs clenched together.

As Natasha got set up behind the easel she said, “Don’t hide your pretty pussy from me baby.” Your eyes widened at her words but you complied. Desperate for the grades, you slowly spread your legs. Unfortunately you were embarrassingly wet.

It’s no surprise you have a crush on your professor. She’s beefy with a pretty face and exudes dominance. Her shirt sleeves are always rolled up to her elbows and her slacks fit her perfectly. Along with the occasional blazer she wears.

Unbeknownst to you she noticed how wet your little cunt was and smirked.

She began to paint you, taking in every breathtaking detail of you.

You felt so vulnerable in this position. Sitting naked in front of your fully clothed professor as she painted your naked form.

She didn’t even bother to try to hide the erection in her pants, because she knew you felt the same way about her. It was only a matter of time before she could finally taste you and have her way with you.

Once she had gotten most of the painting down-she can finish it later she will remember every inch of your body-she walked over to you.

You sat up straighter, not daring to close your legs. Natasha towered over you and looked down at your pretty perky nipples and your wet pussy.

“I think my model needs a reward for being such a good girl don’t you think?” She asked and you sucked in a breath.

She tilted your chin up with her index finger, “Yes or no babygirl.”

Oh you knew it was wrong so, so wrong. But you found yourself saying, “Yes.” It came out as a whisper you were surprised she even heard it.

The redhead smirked, “That’s what I thought.” She got down on her knees, her hands sliding up your bare legs before she licked a bold strip against your pussy. You moaned, throwing your head back at the little piece of friction you just got.

“If my student didn’t want to get naked for me then…why is she so soaking wet?” As she said this she ran her finger up your folds. You hissed in response.

“I know you’ve wanted me since the first day of class. Don’t worry, I want you too.” She kissed the inside of your thigh before licking your folds again, eating you out with such passion that you forgot where you were.

Her mouth attached itself to your clit and you gripped her hair tightly as she sent you closer and closer to the edge before you drenched her face with your release.

“Oh god!” You moaned breathlessly.

“You taste so good detka. Care to return the favor?” She asked with a cocky smile. You immediately got on your knees in front of her and unbuckled her pants, pulling them and her boxers down to free her large cock.

Your eyes widened at the size and you wrapped your hand around her shaft and began to jerk her off.

“I wanna see those pretty lips around my cock baby.” She commanded dryly.

You gulped before wrapping your lips around the tip and sinking down onto it, bobbing your head up and down and jerking off whatever you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

Natasha gripped your hair as you sucked her off. “Such a slut for me huh. Who knew you’d be so eager to taste my dick.” Your pussy was dripping onto the floor both from your previous orgasm and your arousal at the mere action of sucking her cock.

“Shit baby I’m gonna cum.” Your professor moaned before shooting her load down your throat. “Ah fuck that’s it swallow it.”

You swallowed it all and pulled of her cock, opening your mouth to show her you did in fact take it.

She caressed your chin, “Such a good girl. Come over here.” She made her way to the chair you were once sitting on and sat down. Her cock still sticking up in the air. She unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off revealing her abs. Your mouth watered at the sight and you quickly made your way over to her.

The older woman smirked, “Ride my cock baby.” It was a simple command that you were more than happy to obey.

You straddled her waist and sunk down on her thick cock, moaning at the stretch.

“God you’re so tight.” She hissed as she gripped your hips and started moving you up and down her length, treating you like her own personal toy.

You were a moaning mess, rolling your eyes at the back of your head as she continuously hit your g spot. “Oh fuck professor! Feels so good!”

“Yeah? Oh god who knew my student wanted to be slutted out so bad.” She also thrusted her hips up as she moved you. Your hands gripped her muscular shoulders.

The only sounds that could be heard in the room were the sounds of skin slapping, moans, and grunts.

“I’m gonna cum again fuuuuck.” You cried.

“Cum again for me sweetie.” You reached down to rub your clit as you were sent to a land of ecstasy.

You clenched around her cock and your vision went white for a second. You absolutely drenched her cock.

“Oh yeah drench my fucking cock. I’m gonna cum again.” She quickly pulled out of you and forced you on your knees. You watched as she jerked herself off till she came on your tits.

“Holy fuck. You’re unbelievable.” Natasha breathed and you giggled.

“Did I get the grade?”

“Oh yeah you got the grade. And if you keep this up then you’ll be passing every exam too.”

[mrk236547789]

In the small town of Bellwood live Ben Tennyson and Kevin Levin, two high school students who had been best friends since kindergarten. Ben was known for his quick wit and unpredictable adventures, thanks to the Omnitrix, a watch-like device that allowed him to transform into various aliens. Kevin, on the other hand, was the strong and stoic one, often acting as the voice of reason to balance Ben's impulsiveness.

Their friendship grew into something more profound over the summer, as they discovered shared interests and a deep emotional connection that transcended their usual banter. One warm evening, while watching a meteor shower from the hilltop overlooking the town, Ben's hand found its way into Kevin's. They both felt a jolt of excitement, and their eyes met, filled with a silent understanding that they were no longer just friends.

The months that followed were a whirlwind of stolen glances, lingering touches, and secret kisses in the quiet moments between battles and school. They kept their newfound romance hidden from their friends and family, not because they were ashamed, but because they cherished the privacy of their budding love. It was a secret they guarded fiercely, a treasure that belonged only to them amidst the chaos of their alien-filled lives.

SUMMARY^1: Ben Tennyson and Kevin Levin, lifelong friends in Bellwood, develop a romantic bond as they grow older. Their relationship deepens over the summer, marked by a moment of intimate connection under a meteor shower. They maintain secrecy about their love, cherishing the private moments between their public lives filled with battles and school.

“I don’t want to be a superhero anymore,” Ben whispered to Kevin, the words heavy with the weight of his burden. They were sitting in the shadow of a large oak tree, the last leaves of autumn rustling above them. The sky was a canvas of deep blues and purples, painted with the final strokes of the setting sun. Kevin looked at Ben, his eyes searching for a hint of a joke, but finding only earnestness.

“I want to settle down with and have kids, Kevin,” Ben continued, his voice filled with a mix of hope and doubt. “But how can I do that with the Omnitrix?”

Kevin took a deep breath, his grip on Ben’s hand tightening slightly. He had always known Ben’s fears and dreams, and he understood the gravity of what Ben was saying. But he also knew Ben’s heart—his bravery, his kindness, and his unyielding desire to protect those he loved. “We’ll figure it out together, Ben. Maybe the Omnitrix has a way to help us with this, too.”

The two of them sat in silence for a while, the cool air hinting at the approaching winter. Ben’s gaze drifted to the distant horizon, where the last sliver of light disappeared behind the treeline. He sighed. “But what if it doesn’t? What if I can’t be the dad I want to be?”

Kevin leaned in closer, his voice firm and reassuring. “You’re already the best dad those aliens could ever ask for. And we can always ask Professor Paradox for advice. He’s seen more than we can imagine.”

A year later

SUMMARY^1: Ben confesses his desire to leave the superhero life behind for a family with Kevin. He expresses his fears about the Omnitrix's impact on this dream. Kevin, understanding and supportive, suggests they tackle the challenge together and possibly consult Professor Paradox for guidance, hinting at a potential solution within the device itself.

Kevin was 18 now and Ben was 17 graduating from high school. Their relationship had grown stronger with each passing day, filled with stolen moments of joy and quiet resolve in the face of the ever-present danger the Omnitrix brought. They still haven’t told anyone about their love, but it was a secret that seemed to burn brighter with each shared glance and whispered endearment.

After graduation Kevin married Ben in a small, private ceremony atop the same hill where they had first confessed their feelings.

“Follow me Ben,” Kevin said, his eyes gleaming with excitement as he led Ben through the dense forest, their footsteps muffled by the thick layer of leaves beneath them. Ben’s heart raced with anticipation. What could Kevin have planned?

There was a house waiting for them in the heart of the forest, a beautiful wooden structure built with love and care by Kevin himself. It was their sanctuary, a place where Ben could safely transform without fear of discovery, and where they could live a life as close to normal as their circumstances allowed. The scent of fresh-cut lumber and the faint aroma of paint filled the air, mingling with the earthy scent of the surrounding woods.

“I told the media Ben 10 was dead, to give us some space," Kevin said, turning to face Ben with a proud smile. "It’s ours now, all of it."

SUMMARY^1: Kevin and Ben, now 18 and 17, tie the knot in a private ceremony on the hill of their first confession. To ensure a life of safety and normalcy, Kevin constructs a secret forest retreat where Ben can use the Omnitrix without fear. This deception from the public allows them to start a family in peace, as Ben steps back from his superhero identity.

Ben took off the Omnitrix and handed it to Kevin, his eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude. He couldn’t believe Kevin had gone to such lengths to give them a chance at a normal life. Kevin took the device and placed it in a hidden compartment inside the house, sealing it away from the world. For the first time in years, Ben felt the weight of his alien powers lift from his shoulders.

“Now that your my husband, we can start a family, right?” Ben asked, a hint of apprehension in his voice as he gazed at the serene beauty of their new home.

Kevin’s smile grew even wider as he took Ben’s hand and led him into the house. He had been working on a secret project for months, something that would change their lives forever. Inside, the walls were adorned with blue and green paint, creating a calming atmosphere. A crib stood in the corner of the living room, filled with soft, plush toys that matched the color scheme.

“I figured we might need this soon,” Kevin said, gesturing towards the crib. Ben’s eyes filled with tears, overwhelmed by the love and thoughtfulness his husband had shown.

3 months later

“Babe I am home from work!” Kevin called out as he opened the door to their little forest house. Ben emerged from the kitchen, his cheeks flushed and his eyes sparkling with excitement.

“There is my 3 month pregnant husband!” Kevin exclaimed, sweeping Ben into a gentle hug, mindful of the baby bump that was just starting to show.

SUMMARY^1: Kevin surprises Ben with a beautifully crafted forest retreat designed for a family. The house includes a secret compartment for the Omnitrix and a prepared nursery, revealing his hope for their future. Three months later, Ben discovers he is pregnant, marking a significant milestone in their journey toward parenthood. Kevin expresses his joy and excitement for their impending arrival.

SUMMARY^2: Ben and Kevin, friends turned lovers, marry secretly and plan a family, with Kevin building a secluded retreat for their safety. Ben, concerned about the Omnitrix's influence, is soon pregnant, and Kevin is thrilled.

Ben chuckled, his hand resting protectively on the small bulge in his belly. “How was your first day at the garage?”

Kevin squeezed him tighter. “It was good. But nothing compares to coming home to you and our little one.” Ben felt a warm glow spread through him, the reality of their future settling in.

“So, what’s the plan for tonight?” Ben asked, his eyes lighting up with mischief.

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Well, I was thinking we could stay in, maybe watch a movie?”

Ben’s expression fell slightly. “But we do that every night.”

Kevin stepped back, his hands on Ben’s shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

Ben looked down at his stomach, his voice filled with a hint of insecurity. “It’s just, I don’t know if I can handle this, Kevin. What if something goes wrong with the baby?”

Kevin’s expression grew serious as he cupped Ben’s cheek. “We’ve been through worse, remember? And we’re not alone in this. We have each other, and we’ll face whatever comes together, like we always have.”

The comfort in Kevin’s words was palpable, and Ben felt his anxiety ease. “You’re right,” he said with a nod. “But maybe tonight we can do something a little more... adventurous?”

“Like what?” Kevin asked, his curiosity piqued as he followed Ben into the kitchen.

“Like you lick my pussy until I scream your name and the baby kicks in excitement!” Ben said, his voice laced with a seductive growl that made Kevin's cock twitch in his pants.

SUMMARY^1: As Ben's pregnancy progresses, the couple maintains their usual routines with Kevin working at a garage and Ben managing the household. Despite occasional anxieties about the baby's health, they continue to support each other. One evening, Ben suggests a more intimate activity, proposing that Kevin perform oral sex on him, which excites both of them. This act symbolizes their deep connection and shared desire for a fulfilling relationship amidst their extraordinary circumstances.

Kevin's eyes darkened with desire, and he didn’t need any further convincing. He followed Ben into their cozy bedroom, where the faint scent of incense filled the air, setting the mood for a night of passion and exploration. Ben had always had a knack for making their life feel like an adventure, even in the most mundane moments.

Ben lay back on the bed, his shirt lifted to expose his swollen belly. The sight of him, so vulnerable yet so powerful, sent a thrill through Kevin. He kissed Ben's stomach gently, feeling the soft skin and the firmness beneath. Ben moaned, his body reacting to the tender touch. Kevin looked up, his eyes questioning. Ben nodded eagerly, giving his consent.

Kevin kissed a trail down Ben’s stomach, reaching the waistband of his pants. He unbuckled them with trembling hands, his heart racing with excitement and love. He pulled them down, revealing Ben’s pussy, already glistening with anticipation. Ben spread his legs, inviting Kevin in, and Kevin didn’t hesitate. He kissed and licked his way down, savoring every inch of Ben’s body as if it were the first time.

Ben’s moans grew louder as Kevin’s tongue danced around his clit, teasing it before plunging into his warm wetness. The room was filled with the sounds of their passionate whispers and the occasional gasp as Kevin hit just the right spot. Ben’s hips bucked upward, and Kevin’s grip tightened on his thighs, holding him in place as he explored deeper.

SUMMARY^1: In the private sanctuary of their bedroom, Ben initiates an intimate act with Kevin, who is overwhelmed by the sight of Ben's pregnant body. Kevin approaches with care and love, engaging in oral sex as a testament to their bond. Their shared passion and trust are highlighted as they continue to find joy and connection amidst the changes in their lives.

Kevin’s tongue circled Ben’s clit with an expert touch, feeling it swell and pulse beneath him. Ben’s nails dug into the bedspread, his eyes squeezed shut as he tried to hold back the orgasm building within him. Kevin’s hands slid up to massage Ben’s swollen breasts, his thumbs flicking over the sensitive nipples. Ben arched his back, his chest heaving as the pleasure grew unbearable.

“Kevin, I’m gonna cum!” Ben’s voice was a desperate whine, his body tensing in anticipation. Kevin’s eyes met Ben’s, a silent challenge in their depths. He increased his pace, his tongue working in tandem with his fingers. Ben’s eyes rolled back, and he screamed Kevin’s name, the sound echoing through the quiet house. The baby inside him kicked, as if in response to the intense pleasure its parent was feeling.

Kevin wanted to see Ben cum, to watch the ecstasy play out on his face as he gave in to the pleasure. He increased the pressure, his tongue flicking and swirling, feeling Ben's body tense with each stroke. Ben’s moans grew more frantic, his legs quivering around Kevin’s shoulders. And then it hit—Ben’s orgasm, a crescendo of pleasure that left him trembling and gasping for air. The baby inside him kicked again, a little more insistently this time, as if eager to join in the celebration of their love.

SUMMARY^1: The intimate scene escalates as Kevin's skilled oral ministrations bring Ben to the brink of climax. Ben's body responds fervently, culminating in a powerful orgasm that resonates with the baby within. This shared moment underscores the deep love and connection between them, with the baby's movements acting as a symbol of their union and the life they've created together.

SUMMARY^2: Ben and Kevin maintain their relationship's intimacy through Ben's pregnancy with an evening of oral sex, emphasizing their love and bond amidst their new life chapter.

Kevin pulled back, smiling up at Ben, who was now panting heavily, his cheeks flushed and eyes hazy with satisfaction. Ben reached down and pulled Kevin up to kiss him deeply, tasting himself on Kevin’s mouth. The kiss grew heated, their tongues dancing together in a passionate tango. Kevin’s cock was rock hard, straining against his pants, and Ben could feel it through the fabric.

“Save this for the next 3 months, stud,” Ben murmured, a mischievous smile playing on his lips as he gently pushed Kevin away. He knew that Kevin was insatiable, but he also knew that they had to be careful. The baby was their priority now, and Ben didn’t want to take any unnecessary risks.

Kevin’s eyes searched Ben’s, a mix of desire and concern swirling in their depths. He nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. “But I want you to know that I’m here for you, every step of the way,” he said, his voice thick with love.

3 months later

Ben was 6 months pregnant now, and the changes in his body were becoming more pronounced every day. His stomach had grown significantly, and he could feel the baby's movements with increasing strength. It was both thrilling and terrifying. He had never felt so alive and yet so vulnerable.

SUMMARY^1: After their intimate encounter, Ben teases Kevin but insists on caution due to the pregnancy. The story jumps ahead three months to Ben at six months pregnant, feeling the baby's strong movements and experiencing a mix of excitement and fear. Their bond remains steadfast, with Kevin reassuring Ben of his unwavering support during this transformative time.

It was 8 pm when Ben came in the living room with just a robe on, his bulging belly leading the way. Kevin was already on the couch, playing a video game. The room was lit by the flickering blue light from the TV. Ben leaned over the couch and whispered, "Kevin, I'm feeling it again."

“Feeling what?” Kevin asked without looking up, his thumbs dancing over the game controller.

“Horny again?” Kevin smirked, finally setting down the game controller and looking up at Ben. Ben’s cheeks reddened, but he nodded. Pregnant hormones had done a number on Ben’s libido, and it seemed like he was always in heat. Kevin paused the game.

“We need to fix that,” Kevin said with a grin, setting aside the video game controller. He took Ben’s hand and gently led him back to their bedroom. The room was warm and inviting, the perfect place to escape from the cold outside.

Kevin helped Ben out of his robe, revealing his naked form. Ben’s breasts had grown fuller and more sensitive, and his stomach was a round mound of life. Kevin couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe as he traced the outline of the baby with his fingertips, feeling the little life inside his husband.

They lay down on the bed, their bodies entwined, Kevin’s cock pressing against Ben’s thigh. Ben reached down and took it in his hand, stroking it gently. Kevin’s eyes closed, a low groan escaping his lips. They had to be careful with penetration now, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t find other ways to satisfy their desires.

SUMMARY^1: Ben, experiencing heightened pregnancy hormones, expresses his arousal to Kevin, who quickly sets aside his game. They move to the bedroom, where Ben's enhanced sensitivity is revealed. Despite the need for caution, they find alternative ways to satisfy each other sexually, maintaining their intimate connection while honoring the life growing within Ben.

Kevin leaned down and took one of Ben’s swollen nipples into his mouth, suckling gently. Ben’s back arched, and he moaned, the sensation sending waves of pleasure through his body. He could feel the baby stirring, but instead of feeling uncomfortable, it felt like they were all part of the same dance of love.

With his other hand, Kevin reached down and slid a finger into Ben’s pussy, finding him already wet and eager. Ben’s eyes never left Kevin’s, the intensity of their connection only growing stronger with each passing moment. Kevin’s thumb began to circle Ben’s clit, and Ben’s breath hitched.

Kevin had figured out what turned his pregnant husband on: licking his pussy made Ben go wild, but penetration was off the table for now. He was happy to oblige, eager to give Ben the pleasure he craved while keeping them both safe.

Ben’s moans grew louder as Kevin’s thumb worked in tandem with his mouth, teasing and tormenting his nipple. His hand stroked Kevin’s cock in time with the rhythm of Kevin’s thumb, creating a symphony of pleasure that resonated through both their bodies. The baby kicked again, as if eager to join in on the fun, and Ben couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I think he—or she—likes it too,” Ben murmured, his voice husky with desire.

Kevin grinned, his eyes never leaving Ben’s as he leaned down to kiss him. “Then let’s give them a show, shall we?”

SUMMARY^1: Kevin learns Ben's pregnancy-induced preferences, focusing on oral and manual stimulation. Their bond strengthens as they navigate intimacy with the baby's presence, leading to a passionate exchange filled with love, care, and shared pleasure, all while keeping the baby's safety in mind.

Their love-making was slow and tender, a delicate dance of pleasure and restraint. Kevin played on the bed as Ben lined up his pussy with Kevin’s cock, sliding down gently until the head was nestled at the entrance of his wetness. They both paused for a moment, savoring the anticipation. Then, with a deep breath, Ben began to lower himself, taking Kevin in inch by inch. They had figured out that with Ben on top, they could control the depth and speed, reducing the risk to the baby.

Kevin’s eyes never left Ben’s, watching for any sign of pain or discomfort. But Ben’s face was a picture of pure bliss, his eyes half-closed and his mouth slightly parted in a silent moan. The baby inside him kicked again, and Ben gasped, the sensation a strange mix of pleasure and pressure. He leaned back, his hands on Kevin’s chest, and began to rock his hips.

The friction between them was exquisite, a sweet agony that built and built until Ben was sure he couldn’t take it anymore. He rode Kevin’s cock with a gentle rhythm, their bodies moving in perfect harmony. The bed creaked softly with each thrust, the only sound in the otherwise quiet room.

Kevin’s hands roamed Ben’s body, exploring every inch of his new curves, marveling at the changes that pregnancy had brought. He cupped Ben’s breasts, the weight of them surprising and arousing in his palms, and tweaked his nipples gently. Ben’s eyes rolled back in his head, his hips moving faster now.

They had discovered that sex was different now, more intimate and more intense. Every touch, every kiss, every stroke seemed to resonate through the baby, connecting the three of them in a way that was both thrilling and overwhelming. The bond between them grew stronger with each shared moment of pleasure, a silent testament to the love they had built together.

As Ben’s orgasm grew closer, he leaned forward, his hands on Kevin’s shoulders, and began to ride him with more urgency. Kevin’s grip on Ben’s hips tightened, his own climax approaching. The room was filled with the scent of their desire, the air thick with passion. Ben’s breath came in ragged gasps as he felt the baby move in response to their love-making.

Kevin still in the bottom rubbed his hands around Ben huge belly feeling the baby kicking as Ben rode him. Kevin was so hard and ready to explode. He had never felt so connected to Ben than at this moment. The baby was a part of them, a part of their love, a physical manifestation of their bond.

Ben’s breaths grew quicker, his body tightening around Kevin’s cock as he approached climax. The baby’s kicks grew stronger, almost as if it knew what was happening, adding to the intensity of the moment. Kevin watched Ben’s face, the way his eyes screwed shut and his teeth dug into his bottom lip as he tried to keep his moans quiet.

“Let go, Ben. Let me hear you,” Kevin whispered, his own need building. Ben’s head fell back, and he let out a low, guttural cry as he came, his body shuddering with pleasure. The baby responded with a particularly strong kick, and Ben laughed breathlessly.

“Oh, oh my God, Kevin!” Ben panted, his orgasm subsiding but the aftershocks still rippling through him. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Kevin’s, their breaths mingling as they both tried to catch their breath. Kevin’s cock was still hard, desperate for release, but he didn’t mind waiting. This was about Ben, about their baby.

Kevin’s hands slid to Ben’s ass, gripping him firmly as Ben began to move again, his hips rolling in a sensual dance that had Kevin’s cock sliding in and out of him in shallow, teasing thrusts. The baby kicked again, and Ben’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Kevin, I think the baby is enjoying it too!” Ben said with a laugh, his voice a little breathless. Kevin couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride and excitement at the thought of their child joining in on their intimate moments.

They continued to move together, their bodies speaking a language of love and need that was more profound than any words could express. The bed creaked rhythmically with their movements, the only sound in the quiet house that seemed to pulse with the beat of their hearts.

Kevin’s eyes remained locked on Ben’s, watching the play of emotions across his face: pleasure, love, and a hint of concern for their unborn child. He knew Ben was worried about the baby’s safety, but he also knew that this moment was a celebration of life, a declaration of their unity and a promise for the future.

Ben’s strokes grew more deliberate, his body moving in perfect rhythm with the baby’s kicks. Kevin’s cock swelled with each thrust, the pressure building until he could feel the familiar tightness in his balls. He knew he was close. Ben’s breathing grew ragged, his eyes fluttering shut as he rode the waves of pleasure.

“I’m gonna cum, Ben!” Kevin warned, his voice strained. Ben nodded, his own orgasm building again. They had become so in sync that their climaxes often came close together, a testament to their deep connection.

Ben leaned in to kiss Kevin, their tongues entwining as the tension grew. The baby kicked harder, and Ben felt a warmth spread through him, a mix of love and arousal. Kevin’s hips bucked up, driving him deeper into Ben, and Ben could feel the coil of Kevin’s orgasm tightening.

“Come for me, Kevin. Give it to me, all of it,” Ben whispered against his husband’s lips, his voice thick with need.

Kevin’s eyes darkened, and he responded with a low groan, his hips snapping upward, burying his cock into Ben’s welcoming pussy. The pleasure was intense, the culmination of months of pent-up desire and love. With a final, powerful thrust, Kevin came, his cock pulsing within Ben as he filled him with his seed. Ben’s orgasm hit him like a tidal wave, crashing over him in waves that seemed to last an eternity. He cried out, his nails digging into Kevin’s shoulders as he felt their baby kick in response to the intense sensations.

They lay there for a few moments, their bodies trembling with the aftershocks of their shared release. The room was quiet except for their heavy breathing and the distant hoot of an owl. Kevin’s arms wrapped around Ben’s waist, holding him close, their bodies still joined.

“I love you, Ben,” Kevin murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Ben’s forehead. Ben’s eyes fluttered open, a serene smile gracing his lips as he looked into Kevin’s eyes.

“I love you too, Kevin,” Ben replied, his voice still shaky from the aftermath of their lovemaking. He leaned in closer, nestling into the crook of Kevin’s neck, feeling the warmth of his skin and the steady beat of his heart. The baby kicked again, and they both chuckled, feeling the bond between them grow even stronger.

3 months later

Ben was 9 months pregnant now, and every moment was a new adventure for them both. The house had become a bustling hive of activity, filled with the sound of their laughter and the occasional grumble from Ben as he navigated the discomforts of his final trimester. The due date was approaching, and Kevin couldn’t contain his excitement. He had painted the nursery a neutral color, filled it with a crib, a changing table, and a rocking chair, and had even started a collection of baby toys and books.

“Baby I am off to work, I’ll be back soon, okay?” Kevin kissed Ben’s forehead gently before heading out the door. Ben nodded, his hand on his swollen belly, feeling the little kicks of life beneath his palm. He was nervous, but ready for this new chapter.

Ben started to jerk off while Kevin was at work, feeling the baby's movements in his belly as he stroked himself. The sensations were intense and foreign, a reminder of the life they had created together. He moaned quietly, not wanting to disturb their little one, but the need was too much to ignore.

He called Kevin “Baby I need you home I want to fuck so bad!”

Kevin chuckled over the phone, his voice a comforting rumble in Ben’s ear. “Hold on, love. I’ll be home soon. Just think about the baby, okay? We’re in this together, and we can handle anything that comes our way.”

Ben nodded, taking a deep breath and focusing on the baby’s kicks. He knew Kevin was right. They had come so far, and their love was stronger than ever. He could wait a little longer.

The minutes stretched into hours, and Ben filled his time with light housework, trying to distract himself from the constant need to touch his own body. By the time Kevin arrived home, Ben was practically vibrating with anticipation.

Kevin took one look at Ben and knew exactly what was on his mind. He set down his tools and took Ben’s hand, leading him to the bedroom. They had been careful these last few months, but the desire between them was still as strong as ever.

Ben lay on the bed, his giant stomach taking up most of the space. Kevin kissed him deeply, his hands caressing the soft skin of Ben’s belly. The baby kicked, as if eager to join in the affection. Ben’s eyes fluttered closed, his breath hitching as Kevin’s kisses grew more insistent.

They had agreed to keep their intimate moments gentle and safe, but the desire between them was undeniable. Kevin kissed a trail down Ben’s body, his hands tracing the contours of his swollen breasts and belly. Ben’s breath grew shallower, his skin flushing with arousal.

“Kevin, I need you,” Ben whispered, his eyes pleading. Kevin nodded, understanding the urgency in Ben’s voice. He gently positioned Ben on his side, his swollen belly cradled by a pillow. They had read up on safe positions for pregnant sex, and this was their favorite—it allowed for deep penetration without putting too much pressure on the baby.

Kevin slid in behind Ben, his hard cock pressing against the cleft of his ass. Ben gasped, the sensation of being filled both comforting and electrifying. They had discovered that anal sex was the best option for them now, keeping the baby safe while still satisfying their needs. Kevin’s hands found Ben’s hips, and he began to rock into him, their bodies moving in a rhythm that was both slow and steady.

Ben moaned softly, his body adjusting to the new sensations of Kevin's cock sliding into his ass. The pressure was intense, but the pleasure quickly overwhelmed any discomfort. His hand found its way to his own cock, stroking it in time with Kevin's gentle thrusts. The baby inside him squirmed, as if in response to the love and connection between the two men.

“I am going to cum, baby!” Ben's voice was strained with passion as he felt the familiar tension building in his balls. Kevin’s thrusts grew stronger, and Ben could feel the baby’s movements syncing with their lovemaking. It was a strange and erotic symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

When Ben released it was almost like water Kevin noticed. “Damn that is a lot of precum!” Kevin whispered with amazement. “Babe I don’t think that is all pre-cu-“ Ben was cut off by an intense pain in his stomach.

“Ben? What’s wrong?” Kevin’s face was a mask of concern as Ben’s eyes went wide with fear.

“I think that was my water breaking!” Ben’s voice was filled with a mix of excitement and fear as a gush of fluid soaked the bed beneath him. Kevin’s eyes widened, and he pulled out quickly, his own orgasm forgotten in the face of the impending birth.

They both stumbled out of bed, Ben’s hands supporting his belly as a contraction hit him hard. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!” he panted, trying to breathe through the pain. Kevin helped him to the bathroom, his mind racing with thoughts of what to do next.

“Okay, okay, we’ve got this,” Kevin said, trying to keep his voice calm despite the panic rising in his chest. He grabbed a towel and handed it to Ben. “We need to get you to the hospital. Now!”

Ben nodded, his breaths coming in short bursts as another contraction took hold. “Call an ambulance, Kevin. It’s happening too fast!” he exclaimed, his eyes wide with fear.

Kevin didn’t need to be told twice. He dashed out of the room, his heart racing as he grabbed his phone and dialed emergency services. “My husband’s water broke! We need an ambulance right now!” he barked into the phone, his voice a mix of panic and determination.

As Ben leaned against the bathroom counter, panting through the contractions, Kevin raced around the house, grabbing their hospital bag and making sure they had everything they needed. The adrenaline coursing through him made his movements swift and precise.

“Ben, the ambulance is on its way. Just hang in there, okay?” Kevin called out, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. Ben nodded, gripping the towel between his legs to stem the flow of fluid.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” Ben groaned, his body tense with each wave of pain that rolled through him. The contractions were coming closer together now, a stark reminder that their baby was ready to make its grand entrance into the world. Kevin hovered anxiously by the doorway, watching his husband and feeling utterly helpless.

The sound of sirens grew louder outside, and Kevin felt a mix of relief and dread wash over him. This was it. They were about to become parents. The reality of it all was finally setting in.

The EMTs burst through the door, and Ben’s contractions grew more intense. Kevin was a blur of action, guiding the paramedics to the bathroom, explaining the situation as calmly as he could. They quickly assessed Ben’s condition, confirming that it was indeed time to go.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, Mr. Tennyson,” one of the EMTs said, her voice firm but kind. Ben nodded, his eyes glazed with pain.

Kevin helped Ben to the stretcher, his hands shaking as he held on tightly. “You’re doing so well, baby. Just a little longer,” he whispered, kissing Ben’s forehead.

The ride to the hospital was a blur of lights and sirens, Ben’s moans of pain punctuating the tension-filled silence. Kevin held his hand, his eyes never leaving Ben’s face, willing him to be strong.

“What do we got here?” The doctor on call, a no-nonsense woman with a kind smile, took in the situation as Ben was wheeled into the hospital.

“17 year old male, approximately 9 months pregnant, water has broken, contractions 3 minutes apart,” one of the EMTs recounted as they transferred Ben’s care to the hospital staff. The doctor nodded, her eyes assessing Ben’s bulging belly and the pain etched on his face.

“Alright, let’s get you prepped for delivery,” she said, her tone calm and reassuring. Ben nodded, his eyes squeezed shut as another contraction took hold. Kevin hovered nearby, watching in awe as the medical team moved around them with a sense of urgency that was both comforting and terrifying.

In the delivery room, Ben was hooked up to monitors that beeped a steady rhythm, tracking the baby’s heartbeat and the intensity of the contractions. Kevin held Ben’s hand tightly, his own heart racing as he watched the numbers climb.

The doctor, a short, stern-looking woman with a kind smile, checked Ben’s progress. “Looks like you’re already dilating nicely. This baby’s eager to meet you both. Are you ready to push?”

Ben nodded, his face a mask of determination. He trusted Kevin implicitly, and together they had prepared for this moment. Kevin took his place beside the bed, coaching Ben through each contraction, reminding him to breathe.

“Come on, Ben. You can do this. Just like we practiced,” Kevin encouraged, his voice steady and strong. Ben’s eyes were squeezed shut, his teeth gritted as he pushed with all his might. The pain was unlike anything he had ever felt, but the love and support from Kevin helped to anchor him.

The doctor’s voice grew more urgent. “One more big push, Ben. I see the head!”

Ben’s eyes snapped open, and he bore down, his body straining with the effort. Kevin’s hand was squeezed so tight it felt like it might break, but he didn’t flinch. “Come on, Ben. You’re almost there!”

With a final, powerful push, Ben felt the baby’s head emerge, the crowning a mix of pain and relief. The doctor instructed him to stop pushing for a moment, allowing the baby’s head to stretch Ben’s body and avoid tearing. The room was tense, the air charged with anticipation.

Kevin’s eyes were glued to the doctor’s face, his grip on Ben’s hand unyielding. “Almost there, Ben. You’re so close,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. Ben’s eyes searched for Kevin’s, finding strength in their shared gaze.

On the next contraction, Ben pushed with every ounce of energy he had, and with a final, triumphant cry, their baby slipped into the world. The doctor caught the squirming bundle, and the room erupted into a cacophony of noise: the baby’s first wail, the doctor’s instructions to the nurses, and the rapid beeping of the heart monitor.

Kevin’s vision blurred with tears as he watched the doctor lift their child into the air, the umbilical cord still attached. “It’s a boy!” she exclaimed, and the gravity of the moment hit him like a ton of bricks. They had a son.

“Kenny?” Ben whispered, his voice hoarse from the exertion of birth. Kevin nodded, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “Kenny Levensque,” he confirmed, his voice choking with emotion. They had chosen the name together, a blend of their surnames that signified their unity and love.

[issj1]

It's time to upload everything completely!

I didn't want to fill the whole canvas with writing so I prefer to write it all down here:

The first, I like the idea of the design (the clouds more specifically) on her suit being somewhat "metallic", matted fabric. So I put dark shine in a lazy attempt to give it that touch/I feel like the clouds don't look like clouds here.

The darker details are due to the same style that she has on the bodywork, dark blue on the bumpers and here I represent them on the belt, etc. Loves wearing full gloves, finds them more comfortable than fingerless gloves.

Hair painted inside and wavy/messy hair. I had that idea for days, I thought it was really cute. Dark circles, she always had dark circles under her eyes, you can easily find her awake at midnight.

Michi has two piercings. One in her right eyebrown and another on her ear, helix piercing.

Now speaking of scars, no. She doesn't hurt herself or anything like that. She is afraid of that. That's why they're not as deep and less noticeable.

I can assure yall that those scars are for various reasons: Most of them are from her childhood, legs, some on her arms and that one on her lip. This bcs she was clumsy enough to always hurt herself, especially of that bigger scar on the leg. And she didn't even know the lil scars were there until they healed. Other reason is because she has a pet cat, a calico cat. This cat left scratches on her hands (currently has a Husky too but it's not guilty of the scratches). Now the scratches on her fingers was because she cut herself by accident.

The ones on her face are for playing rough when she was younger. Was scolded and received a slap that left the lil scratches on her cheeks.

↑Fact: She spent a whole week sleeping with Shu after that bcs she felt bad enough sleeping alone in her room to sleep peacefully (i mean that slap was enough to make her cry).

-I think we've talked enough about her, That's all for now.

[cgmayra]

Boom Sonamy, Lyric comes back trying to achieve immortality. He needs an exhange of life for a life so a live sacrifice but can't read the rest of the inscription. So he kidnaps Amy again to read the rest of the message otherwise he'll destroy the village and plans to sacrifice her. The gang come to save her and stop Lyric. You can add more to make it more dramatic if you want with a better ending than I can think of ^_^'

I do tend to always just add more, don’t I? XD I’m sorry for those who I’ve taken your idea and ran with my own thoughts on it, but I hope it’s been satisfactory nonetheless! Working a lot lately, so when I do have time to do the Tumblr Prompt Series (also posted on all my writing sites for viewing pleasure!) I usually do something fun but small. I’ll give it my best, Precious Anon!

Also, Lyric is a very… how do I put this… There’s not a whole hecka lot of information on him. I did some research to look back over the games he was in, and even then, it was pretty generic and bland, sorry Lyric fans!

However, sometimes, that’s actually good news. You know why? Shocking, I know! But it means the character is wide open for interpretation and expanding upon them. I won’t be doing that for this fic, necessarily, but I think characters with great potential are usually those that have little information but just enough to peak interest. It’s one of the reasons I felt Amy Rose was a character I could put more lore and backstory on, because although I did study her character, there wasn’t a whole lot on her. It made her a canvas that felt ‘half-full’, able to be influenced and expanded upon.

However, in recent times, Amy Rose and many other characters like her in different franchises (Not necessarily in personality or role, but just the same level of character-depth and lore, I guess?) have really been given love and more games are coming out with better writing quality than ever before! I’m so glad that so many ‘side characters’ are treated as main cast mates, and not just thrown into trope roles anymore.

That being said, you can’t escape the occasional ‘One-time’ appearances like Lyric being a ‘Pops up in maybe Two Games and never again’ villain. But it does leave room for us Fanfiction writers to make some interesting depth to further their small legacy! <3

That being said–TUMBLR PROMPT REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, SHUT DOWN ON INBOX, lolol you were waiting for that, weren’t ya? >:3c

Hugs and blowing kisses, everyone. I’m definitely taking more time to heal from burnout and also work on Fanfiction Edits (Which are coming along nicely, I’m now back to Instincts, for those who are a fan of that one.), Original Stories (Sorry, probably won’t post them tho :( But books are important! lol), and of course, Tumblr Prompt Series so yall know I’m not dead xD

The tumblr inbox for prompt requests will remain down probably for a few more years. I know that upsets a lot of you, but if they ever do open again, I will be blocking ‘Anon’ because I think some people are posting more than the actual limit of how many they can submit. Due to this, I’m overwhelmed with hundreds (not joking, by the way.) of requests that I really don’t want to do? So we’ll be taking time to go back to stories I’ve wanted to write and solo-writing for my fanfictions/other works. I’ve gotta set up stronger boundaries! Haha XD

That being said, please enjoy this Sonic Boom (Feels ancient now) Prompt!

Prompt:

“Ultimate power… Although sounding like sweet nectar to one’s ambitious desires, tends to lead to a faulty conclusion…” A snaky whiplash from his claw-tail sent a impulse reflex through Amy’s spine, causing her to flinch and her ears to withdraw back again.

She was so mad, tied up to a pillar inside an ancient tomb, having been ambushed while excavating what looked like a madman’s attempt at immortal life.

Roughly translated, a doctor related to Eggman, known as Ivo Robotnik had first discovered this tomb and kept it a secret. He researched and found a successful way to immortalize someone… but he failed to interpret the last section of the stone slab’s text…

A life for a life… to give Shadow The Hedgehog, his ultimate creation, immortality–to live and breathe forever in the purpose of curing the world of its vital mistakes and sins–he accidentally let his granddaughter, Maria Robotnik, die in the process…

As she read the inscription, Ivo’s account tells that her life was being drained from her… and eventually, was converted in some miraculous way into what was necessary to mechanically engineer this ancient tomb’s purpose: Infinitely Sustained Life.

Shadow, overwhelmed by the loss of his friend, turned on Ivo Robotnik, and sealed the tomb to never let the tragedy that had befallen here happen again… until now.

‘Opps.’ Amy thought to herself, annoyed by Lyric carrying on with his wicked monologue about being the last of the ancients, having envied and coveted this technology, but had lost before he could even begin to understand it. ‘I’ve been following the late Ivo Robotnik’s work in hopes of finding the ancient world… I didn’t think I’d stumble upon this buttless snake again…’ She sighed quietly, blinking her eyes as though counting subconsciously the seconds before she was to be daringly rescued by her friends.

Again…

‘Why was it always me?’ She grumbled in her thoughts before the second whipping crack of his tail colliding with the ground near her snapped her out of her thoughts again.

“You remain awfully quiet… that’s offssssseting.” He hissed to her side, which made her lean as far right as she could muster, trying to get away from his anciently stanky breath.

“Upsetting,” She appeared to be clarifying, “That I have to have my peaceful afternoon so rudely interrupted by the echoes of a delusional reptilian, but I mean, at least I’m complaining internally.” She smirked up to him, showing she wasn’t trying to help him, she was just making a snarky comeback.

He shook his head, his lips swerving in their rage as he lifted himself up, completely over her cocky and irritating behavior.

“You will read the slab for me!” He smashed down his robotic arm by her, and she had to turn her head away from the dust and flying debris of shattered rock taking off from the impact.

“Like I’d die for you!” She badmouthed back, “Sonic and my friends will be here any minute. Seems you’ve become very fond of our combined butt-whooping, Lyric! I can’t fathom any other reason you’d keep wishing it upon you, unless it truly makes you feel like you even have a butt to whoop.”

“Silence!” He roared up, having the whole of the tomb shake from his vibrating, strong sound before Amy just scoffed.

“Finally, we see snake-eye to hedgehog-eye now.” She leaned back on the pillar she was tied to, taking a nice breath out. “Ah~ Now, to await the inevitable victory-WUOO!” She was yoinked practically up, snapping her restraints around her wasit but her arms still behind her back.

Lyric had taken hold of her head, as she kicked the air and tried to hit him while he held her uncomfortably high.

She could probably be alright, but she couldn’t use her Enerbeam… Nor her Piko-Piko Hammer while her arms were still tied-up, although her legs free.

She could feel the squeezing of his robotic claws digging into her cranium, and for the first time that day, she actually showed the tire and wear of having struggled against him for so long.

Not only did she dig her way carefully as she could in here, trying to preserve the ancient relics to study them later, but she had to fight Lyric, and now…

“If you will not comply…” He pulled her face towards his own, using his tail to grab her legs and keep them tightly clamped together, making sure her struggle just became ten-times harder…

Her eyes were twitching under the pressurized hold the claws had on her head… Looking up as she couldn’t help but show the strain.

“Then you’ll remember an old friend, I’m sure…” He attached a new mind-controller on her, as he let her go and she fell to all fours,... then looked up to show she was fully under his power.

“Perfect~” He chimed, laughing manically, “Now, read it to me!” He slashed his tail against the wall, turning for her to get up and walk towards the slab.

She knelt and held out her two hands to it, reading the rock…

“At last! My robotic empire! To erase the weak and insipid existence of all living organisms…” He slithered and opened his arms to the murals around the tomb. “To eternally strive for perfect power… the influence of which only the vast superiority of machines can dictate! Eggman was a fool to try and rival me… You and your friends were mere insects to my reign! Biting and taunting me, getting in my way to distract me from the ultimate purpose of my recreation!” He twisted the wrist joint of his robotic arm and held up his claw-like hand, admiring it. “Soon, even I shall become fully mechanized! With immortality, I can improve my own being once more! No longer half-complete, a mutated cyborg with still my fleshy prison! But… I shall shed this weakling flesh to become truly–the immortal mechanized god of this new world!” He struck an all-powerful and imposing pose, but an explosion of rocks and rumbling of the tomb’s unstabilized structure shook him out of his gloating aside to himself once more.

“Wh-what? OFFPH!” A red, shiny shoe smushed with great force against his face, crushing it as Sonic sped into the fight, and Shadow rushed to Amy’s side.

“Snap out of it!” He could tell by her faint breathing that she was already losing her life force, the stream of which was moving through the air into the large center dome-like structure above the tomb.

“No… not again..!” Shadow cried out, seeing as Lyric was able to actually combat Sonic, who had tried to pin him down but was flung off of him.

Lyric laughed again with the added strength of immortality slowly being converted into him by the strange process of the powerful stream of light waving through the air, coming out of the ball, to then attach to him like a leash.

“Soon, Sonic, all your friends will contribute to is merely delaying the eventual takeover of this planet..!” Lyric, slithering towards Sonic as he kept backing up, felt his body powering up. “Every muscle in you will eventually wither and die… while mine shall stay immaculate… and whether you continue to prevent me from my destined course of fate or not, sooner or later… You will die.” He lunged into Sonic’s face, who looked horrified at what he was saying. “While I’ll still yet have endless time left in me… to conquer, maim, and entirely transform this pathetic mossy rock into yet another perfect rendition of what I shall become… Immortality pristine, everlasting, and most importantly…” He rose himself up into the air, his tail whipping around underneath him. “A robotic masterpiece..!”

“Amy..!!!” Shadow gripped at her mindcontrolling device on her head, but it was wedged on tightly this time, “Darn it, woman!” He looked to the slab, she was almost done..!

He closed his eyes, realizing what he must do.

“Forgive me… Maria.” He covered Amy’s mouth so she couldn’t speak. “I will have to belay my promise to you… and save this pathetic excuse for a world… if only to bring your perfect idealisms to light… perhaps… another day.”

He lowered his head and read the last of the inscription, which took his immortality and-

The beam redirected.

“WHAT?!” Lyric landed back on the ground, looking at his robotic arms before turning to finally notice Shadow as he held Amy, giving her back her life force…

“NOOO!!!” Lyric began to move quickly towards him, but Sonic thomped him yet again to the ground.

He folded his arms, standing triumphantly over him, “Looks like your brilliant plan at eternal robotization backfired yet again, Lyric! Now, you’re just softly singing the poetic justice of what happens to those who try and metallically make their own butts to be kicked!” He kicked Lyric as he moved forward with a humorous cry of pain from it.

“Shadow?” Sonic then raced to his side, looking at Amy in his arms and having her transferred to his own.

Shadow… slowly shook his head.

Sonic, worried now, looked down at Amy. “Amy?”

She didn’t move… the light breeze from their entrance now sending the wind to move her three bangs.

“... Amy?” There was a long… hard pause…

The air was still, even Lyric pushed up off the ground, holding his push-up position, and looked to see with a swishing tail if immortality could still be his afterall.

Then… her eyes blinked…

“Miss Rose?” The little blonde human girl was bending down to speak to her, as she got up, rubbing her head.

“Wha-... H-huh?” She looked around what seemed like a white space. “Am I… dead?” She looked at the girl, gasping, “Maria Robotnik!?”

The little girl shyly giggled, gently covering her mouth, “Oh, I’m sorry for laughing, this isn’t the time nor place for that.” She then curtsied and offered her her hand, “You’re not dead. I’m giving you my life’s essence… the same essence… that was used to give Shadow his immortal life.”

“W-What?!” Amy scooted away, kicking her feet out from the girl’s hand. “That’s ludicrous! I don’t want eternal life!” She exclaimed, “I… I want to grow old with my friends, and have countless adventures… a family and eventually… make global peace and end world hunger.” She looked down, “Set up an all-women government and prove that we can organize a better democracy and-”

Maria just giggled again, “Many. Big. Dreams.” She gave each word a single note and pause, not necessarily for dramatic flavor or effect, but to show how much they meant to her.

“Many times have I wished for a better world. Bigger and bigger have my heartfelt prayers become. Dreams of an absolution… from misery and fire, to passion and compassion reigning evermore on the earth.” She gently offered her hand to Amy again.

“If you can’t accept an immortal life… then accept entirely your own life. All it’s happenings. Even the mistakes…”

Amy looked at her hand… realizing that without Maria, she would likely never be able to return to life at all…

“Is this… really the only way?” Amy held up her hand, but hesitated, looking sweetly at the girl. “I’m sure… W-We could ask Tails… We could find a way to bring you back!” She formed a fist, “We can reverse what this place has done to you!”

Maria just smiled like the angel she was. “... This is the only way…” She quietly stated, “Come, be at peace. Your friends are waiting for you.”

Amy dropped her head, her hand loosening from a determined fist to an open hand again, and looked at it. “... Dying sure does suck… doesn’t it?” She looked with teary eyes up to the kind, optimistic girl. Her heart wanted to help her, but she was sacrificing herself–yet again–for the greater good.

“Thank you… Maria.” She took her hand… as a white light engulfed them.

“No, Amy Rose. Thank you… for never giving up on the world we live in. In it’s present, so many seek to extend their lives, in fear that they will live to short or not greatly enough. The real life we should long for, is the one we’re currently on right now. With so much possibility, with so many endless adventures to take… When one begins to stop fearing the future, then can we really live and create it at last… the way-...”

“We want to.” Amy finished, as Maria’s voice faded and she opened her actual eyes.

Sonic and Shadow were over her… Shadow having lost his Immortality, but Amy not gaining it.

Instead, Amy had died and Maria used her life force to give it back to her.

Both mortal now, Amy looked from Sonic to Shadow, and held up a hand to grace his cheek, “She’s lovely.” She smiled kindly to him. “Maria was such a beautiful young girl.”

Shadow couldn’t hold it back, and cried.

He ducked his head as her hand came gently off and moved to Sonic’s chest, patting it lightly, “Boy, does that heart never cease to slow down?” She teased, as Sonic sighed in relief.

“Happy to have you back… Ames.” He gave her a fond expression, and she leaned her head into his embracing arms, resting in that soft gaze of sweetness he gave her.

“ARRGGGAHHH!!” Lyric arched his back, crying out in further outrage. “HOW!? You fools! I will return, I will bring a bigger robotic army, I’ll have you ruing the day you-!”

There’s was a large ‘KONK!’ sound as mechanical birds flew around his head while he circled a little in the air and then fell forward, revealing Tails with a large wrench held like a thrown baseball bat, Knuckles with his fists positioned as though they had just hit something as well, and Sticks with her boomerang and one hand on the ground to show she had just caught it.

“Man, to think. We’ve stumbled upon a literal ANCIENT secret governmental conspiracy! Whoo! Glad I’m only living in a time where we have to deal with our modern governmental conspiracies!” She spouted out, looking relieved for some odd reason.

“Oh, hey Bestie!” She waved enthusiastically to Amy, who lightly waved back at her, giggling as she came over.

Completely unaware…

Of what just happened here moments before.

“What were you up to?” She asked, innocently.

Shadow covered his face from the view of the others, as Sonic looked to him and then to Amy, and helped her to lean up more so she could be sitting comfortably as she twisted her torso to address the others, and mostly answer Sticks’s question.

“Changing fate.” She replied, smiling from ear to ear. “And hopefully…”

“Making all of ours a good one.”

[senditcolton]

The Greatest of Luxuries

Pressing tiny kisses against your lover’s shoulder while they’re bent over a desk, trying to focus even though your touch is distracting them.

summary: your relationship with the crown prince of Carolyna was still as forbidden as it always was. but in the quiet of your art studio, all of those worries and fears melted away song inspo: dear reader by taylor swift word count: 1.4k warnings: none! requested by @smileysvech part of the "king of my heart" universe

You knew that secrets were a dangerous thing. While they may seem innocent in the moment, if they were revealed, they could cause heartbreak, loss, and even pain – not just to the people who kept them, but to others as well.

Secrets always caused more harm than good. But when a secret felt like a blessing in disguise… it was hard to rationalize the reasons to stop it.

A blessing was what nights like these felt like to you. Nights where you and the crown prince sat in the small art studio, quietly working – him on political affairs and you on your latest portrait – and often talking until the dawn sun rose over the horizon.

Every time Andrei crept into your studio under the cover of darkness, it didn’t feel like the two of you were doing anything wrong. It didn’t feel like this connection you shared could cause tensions in foreign affairs, dissent in the people of Carolyna, the downfall of the monarchy, or even risk the wellbeing of the royal family, Prince Andrei included, if it was ever revealed.

No. Here in the soft candlelight of your studio, this secret didn’t feel dangerous. It felt magical.

Your eyes lift from the canvas in front of you, sneaking a glance across the large work table towards Andrei. His head was bowed as his dark eyes scanned over the tax reforms that what were spread out in front of him. He looked gorgeous in the dim lighting, the glow from the candles casting shadows on his sharp features, highlighting the stubble that graced his jawline.

Andrei must have felt your stare, his eyes looking up and connecting to yours. A blush and a soft smile is the only response you give before your eyes dart back down to concentrate on your own work.

The blues, greens, and greys of the painted fabric blend together and you take a moment to plan your next move before dipping your brush into the paint layered on the palette in front of you. You mix the pigment until you achieve the perfect shade, brush returning to the canvas to add shadows and highlights, your brows furrowed in concentration.

A gentle clearing of the throat makes your eyes lift again, this time to catch Andrei staring at you.

“You’re very cute when you’re concentrating,” he says, his husky voice echoing in the quiet of the studio.

“So are you,” you reply, a soft smile appearing on your lips. Andrei grins and the two of you spend a moment staring into each other’s eyes before you turn back to the task at hand. You hear Andrei shift, presumably to do the same but that thought is disproved when you hear the sound of his footsteps walking around the table, making their way to you.

You feel Andrei come to a stop behind you before his warm hands land on your shoulders, the sparks that his touch always elicited thrumming through your body. He leans his head over your shoulder, looking down and studying the portrait in front of you.

“What do you think? Does it look like your brother?”

You were charged with painting a new portrait of Prince Evgeny to celebrate his upcoming return and you wanted it to be perfect. It was proving to be a difficult task, simply because you had never met the prince and the only references you had were the portraits of him already hanging throughout the palace.

“Looks better than any of the other paintings he’s had done,” Andrei replies, the subtle compliment not going unnoticed by you. “Some advice – we look similar, me and him. He looks a little more like my father where I look like my mother.”

“Where?” you ask. The question doesn’t seem to fully register with Andrei as his head turns to look at you, one brow raised in confusion. “I mean, in which facial features do you look different?” An understanding smile graces Andrei’s features before he speaks again.

“Mostly the nose, but the eyes as well.”

You pick up a pencil lying close by, scribbling his notes onto a piece of scrap paper. You can hear Andrei’s soft chuckle in response to your actions, his grip softly tightening as he squeezes your shoulders.

“You’re very tense,” he remarks.

“I just want it to be perfect for your brother.”

“It will be,” comes his gentle reply, his hands flexing against your shoulders once more. You sigh, turning your gaze back to the portrait as you pick up your brush again. Andrei’s hands remain on your shoulders but you don’t mind it the sensation. Andrei’s touch was always comforting to you.

You feel Andrei’s hands move again; this time his fingers slip beneath the collar. The touch of his skin against yours ignites another fire within you. Andrei takes the thin fabric of your chemise between his fingers, dragging the material down to expose your bare shoulder. The kiss that he presses into the delicate skin is enough to make you shiver.

“Andrei,” you playfully whine, the vowels of his name extended. “You’re distracting me.”

Your words do nothing to halt his movements. In fact, they just seem to egg him on, his lips falling on your skin again, creeping up the slope of your shoulder. Either out of instinct or pure desire, your head falls to the side, allowing his kisses to continue their path up your neck with ease.  You can feel the vibration of his laughter against your skin. Andrei’s lips eventually come to hover by the shell of your ear, his warm breath softly ruffling your hair.

“You seem to be enjoying it,” he whispers.

Those hushed words dissolve the last modicum of your self-control. In a haste, you toss your paintbrush into the small cup of water before spinning on your stool to face Andrei completely. Your speed took him slightly by surprise but he doesn’t resist when your hands fly up to his hair, pulling him close enough for you to be able to crash your lips onto his.

His hands that originally were resting on your arms drop to grip your waist, keeping your body pressed to his as he kisses you back with a passion. The two of you stay like that, locked up in each other’s embrace until you eventually pull away.

“I’m never going to finish this portrait if you keep disrupting my work,” you playfully tease. “Then your brother will be disappointed and might hate me for being the one responsible.”

“If it’s half-finished or even if it looks nothing like him, Evgeny will love it and you. Because I love you.”

His words give you pause, moving that final distance away from him to look into his dark brown eyes.

“Are you going to tell him about us?” you ask, the hesitation in your voice clear.  

“Only if you want me to.”

The offer sinks in and your mind considers the options. You knew that Andrei loved his brother and wanted to share his feelings about you with his closest blood. But another person knowing about the two of you meant more of a chance that your secret romance would be revealed, and such information might create problems.

Your internal debate is interrupted by a knock on the studio door. Both you and Andrei look towards the sound as Pyotr, Andrei’s personal guard peeks his head in.

“Apologies, vashe siyatelstvo,” Pyotr says, lightly bowing his head. “I think it may be best if you would retire for the night.”

Your attention turns back to Andrei, watching his own eyes dart to the humble clock hanging on your wall before returning to Pyotr.

“Very well. I’ll be out shortly.”

Pyotr gives another small nod of his head before retreating. As soon as the sound of the door clicking into place dissipates, Andrei takes your face into his hands and presses another soft kiss against your lips.

“You don’t have to tell me now,” he says. “Just let me know. I’ll be alright with whatever you decide.”

You gently nod your head in understanding, the action bringing a smile to Andrei’s face, one you can’t help but mirror. He kisses you once more before his hands fall from your body completely. You watch as he gathers the papers that were scattered on the table. Once they were in his hands, he walks to the door. But before he departs, he glances back at you.

“I love you,” he whispers, the words sounding less like a secret and more like an oath.

“I love you too,” you murmur.

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[elitadream]

I love how you’ve stressed the understanding of Junior not TRULY being able to pick sides when it comes to his father and Mario. With him being a young child, making that distinction between what is good and bad pretty much comes down the that nature vs nurture aspect.

I can see almost see both ways happen, as a child who’s strived to impress a parent that isn’t the best role model, there have been moments where I’ve had to ignore or hide what I know as right and wrong and follow what they think as to get that sweet sweet parental praise and love. Maybe as Junior gets older the expectations of taking the throne outweigh his true feelings, and his love and loyalty to his father becomes his downfall. It’s not healthy for this unconditional familial love, especially on both ends. Even if the end goal is to help or provide, if the parents morals are warped or skewed then the child they put out will have those learned behaviors (our nurture aspect) if any of this makes sense.

I can also see an event in which an older Junior comes across a situation in which he does not agree with a decision. Perhaps Bowser has tried to rope an now older Junior into capturing Peach and attempting to rid of Mario and Luigi in a more aggressive fashion. In a fit of desperation and fear, Junior pretends to “defeat” the bro’s. Maybe it was something Mario said, or how sad he looked to be fighting the koopaling he’s come to know and cherish (a pseudo-son of sorts), but in the end Junior just can’t see the reasoning to hurt someone, especially when he knows deep down that him and his father are the ones at fault. Perhaps the bros make it to the Dark Lands and make it to Bowsers and him, leading to a final standoff. Junior doesn’t want to hurt anyone, it’s not fun to see others in pain or suffering, and the conflict of interest between him and his father may drive that decision to turn away from Bowser. Presumably leading to a Father vs Son, a Generation vs Generation, a true Right vs Wrong. (Maybe our nature aspect)

The speculation space you provide is fantastic, from the short blurbs and scenes we have gotten and the bread crumbs of text show that Junior appreciates and loves his father while respecting and looking up to Mario as well. The conflict of role models and with just how young Junior still is shows that he could still be swayed in either direction. The fantastic part to me is there is still no way to tell yet.

Your AU and everything you’ve put forth so far is gorgeous and I am so happy to have been able to come across you blog on more than one occasion. Please continue your world building, what you have is something you should be proud of. (*´꒳`*)

Ooh yes, Junior is a very conflicted character on that front! 🥺���‍♀️ He loves his father greatly and wants to make him proud, but he's also deeply and genuinely fond of Mario- and finding himself torn between radically opposing forces creates a very intense struggle for him, emotionally and morally speaking.

The tragic beauty in this conflict is that Junior finds candid motivation on both ends due to the very strong affection and admiration that he feels for the two. His intentions originate from the right place regardless of who they're directed at, and he will inevitably sway back and forth because of this.

While I've shown him as being a "good" kid (in the sense that he isn't inherently evil, but rather a blank canvas like most children are), his father's influence in his life is still huge and incredibly potent, the same way Mario's impact on him is felt very strongly despite him really wanting to be worthy of his father's esteem.

I love Junior's character for that reason- the ambiguity, the incertainty and the constant dilemma that comes with trying to meet contrasting expectations. He's a paradoxical figure, his heart leaning in two different directions at the same time, and one that is bound to evolve in a very non-linear way because of it. 🎇

I really enjoyed reading your thoughts on this!! That was a beautiful analysis, and I'm delighted that you like my portrayal of the small koopa. 🙏 Thank you for your wonderful compliment on my work, that's immensely appreciated. ☺️💟

[damnfandomproblems]

758648137243049984

First of all, like someone else said, the same logic and arguments you apply to ships also applies to violence in fiction. The two are kinda interchangeable. Murder, terrorism, torture, those kinds of things are wrong and hurt people in real life so I don't know why most antis are okay with it in fiction even when it happens to kids. If ships influence people then fictional violence will too. If it really worked like that, then the fact you're up in arms over ships but okay with violence is kinda worrying. If one is wrong, then both are wrong. If one doesn't work like that, then neither does the other.

Lastly, what people think romanticizes something is often subjective, and in my own experience, just writing about it makes them think you're condoning it. For example, before I joined Tumblr this year I used a different app where I often posted some of my writing. Including an old one I wrote in high school and reworked. The narrator suffered from depression and would often self-harm. The short passage I uploaded was her in the middle of attempting suicide. She self-harmed because she felt she needed to 'atone' for perceived slights. She attempted suicide because she wanted the pain to end and thought that was the only way it would. I based this writing on my own personal and my friends' experiences. I wasn't encouraging anything, I just wanted to work through things in hs and writing helped me. That work was taken down. It was my fault because it went against the rules of the group, but the reason the other person gave wasn't that it wasn't allowed by the rules, they called it "pro-self harm". They thought I wanted people to hurt themselves because my narrator had depression which caused her do do unhealthy things/think unhealthy thoughts, because that's how I feel sometimes.

I'm not saying everyone who writes this stuff is trying to work through trauma/pain in a healthy way. And they don't need to be a victim to write this stuff or write it for that purpose. Maybe they wrote it for fun or it's a fantasy kink, and there's nothing wrong with that. Maybe others will read it for the same reasons. But maybe a victim will read it and maybe it'll help them come to terms with what happened. And maybe you'll read the same thing but think it's glorifying something you hate.

Whether something glorifies a bad thing or not is often subjective. Just because you personally hate it doesn't mean it doesn't have a purpose or shouldn't exist.

And banning this stuff won't do anything. It will still be made, just in secret. It will still be posted, just on a hidden website. And the associated crimes irl won't decrease. Maybe they'll slightly go down, though I'd argue they'd most likely go up. Because if people are reading these things and hurting others cause of it, they already had those thoughts in their minds. If they're going after kids or abusing their partners after reading about it, then the fiction didn't create that desire out of nothing, it was just the final push they needed to do something they already wanted to do. And anything could be that final push, they could have seen someone else do it irl. In that case the fiction was a key that unlocked the door to a desire they kept hidden, not a paintbrush that painted an image of that desire on a blank canvas. Anything could be a key. Don't place more blame on fiction than on the criminal. That allows them to not have to take personal responsibility and you're ignoring the root of the problem, making it harder to protect people. Don't waste time and energy going after depictions of abuse instead of actual real life abusers.

Posting as a response to a previous ask.

[anthrotographer]

Challengers (2024) | A review w/ spoilers*

Tumblr is not going to like my review, I already know. I acknowledge this movie wasn't made for me, but I feel I give credit where it's due.

Last night I had a staggering movie going experience. I felt like I was being sold a lie a minute sitting through the agonizing commercials, the movie previews, and till the end of Challengers. Back to back promos for military branches, painting them as organizations of peace and innovation (a rally during war time). I understand there’s nothing new about that experience. Consumerism and propaganda tactics have a long tradition at the cinema. We’ve been advertised a false reality for so long it’s hard to think about our world without using the images fed to us to line that canvas. Take how modern horror treats rural living. It’s very common to see (in fact I saw) a movie trailer where a young couple vacations in a secluded part of the country to get away from it all. The idea of ruralism as a peaceful alternative to stressful urban living is benign and actually has some merit to think about in a country as urbanized and unhappy as ours. Yet the common movie trope is that there are evil forces lurking in the dark outskirts, that living ‘out there’ turns people into kooks or murderous cultists. One movie by itself with this premise can be harmless, but within a whole genre that trends this way it feels insidious. Almost like we are supposed to all fear each other. Challengers is another example of a genre movie that warps human reality into a lifeless opportunity to sell things. 

When a movie feels more like a commercial or a music video then why even bother with the movie going experience. The distinguishers between television and film are fading away over time. In one particularly unabashed scene we cut between three different product placements for Coke, Adidas, and the U.S. Open. It was shameless, the way Josh O’Connor was most likely told to hold that CocaCola label perfectly centered in the frame. Those three brands are far from the only ones displayed. Tennis, and sports events in general, flash a ton of advertising so I understand that the film’s stuck in that universe. Still there are ways to artfully sidestep brazen product placement. 

I don’t want to spend much time trying to analyze the relationship between Tashi, Art and Patrick. The film doesn’t give you enough about why these three are fatefully attached to each other besides vapid attractions. Yes all three are enamored by one another but what’s the motivation to stay in this toxic ménage à trois dynamic for so long? Zendaya plays Tashi, a master manipulator trying to mold her husband Art Donaldson into the star tennis player she was supposed to be before her injury. And her “little white boys” Art and Patrick feel like pawns that are content to be pawns. Men who don’t have any freewill and are solely motivated by their lust for this supermodel of a woman. In a way I don’t blame them. My disconnect comes because there’s a lack of depth with the characters and their relationships. Each of them seems to have a singular focus; Tashi wants vicarious glory through Art, Art wants to be loved, and Patrick wants Art’s life. But there is no depth to the desires. Time is never spent on why Tashi loves tennis more than people or why Art and Pat let their, supposedly strong bond, get broken so easily by a “home wrecker” that forecasted her own home wrecking. And look, as a seductive art piece it succeeds, for the most part, but as a story about real people it reduces its characters to their base desires while pretending they are complex. Maybe I don’t understand Romance—as I’ve been told. I am content to treat it as just a romantic fantasy and give it credit for being hot, but it was also a long drawn out tease. 

There was no reason for this experience to be more than two hours long! Half of it was in never ending slow-mo where I felt like the same tennis ball was being served for half an hour. The dreaded slow motion, which can be good for a sporty movie to capture athletic movements and build suspense, but here it was overused to a point where it left us thinking “get on with it already”.  Thank goodness some of my theater neighbors were also moaning about this because I felt alone, trapped in a drugged fugue state. So much of the film was disorienting. For a period you are meant to feel like a tennis ball being battered around through the camera. Editing wise this movie had the same problem that so many modern movies have; death from a thousand cuts. And the slowly unraveling chopped timeline executed so many arbitrary flashbacks and flash forwards. Eight weeks before, two days forward, then a five year flashback, all when you could tell this story sequentially with similar suspense building and less confusion. 

Seeing this movie was a spur of the moment, going in blind experience. I know now that I was not the target audience. Today I mentioned it to a friend and he ended up watching the trailer. The text I got back: “looked like a bit of a teenager movie”. I don’t mean to spoil the enjoyment for anyone with this review. From a certain angle I did have fun with Challengers. Sometimes simply devouring some eye candy is what the mood demands. 

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[trozeikylis]

The Human Heart, Divine Judgment, and Mechs

Spoilers for the OG series and End of Evangelion. I’d highly advise you watch those first so you can make your own opinion before looking at this.

I recently watched all of Eva for the first time recently since my friend invited me to watch End of Eva for its special theater viewing. To be honest, I didn’t know really what to expect when I went in, but I had heard a lot of things and had figured now would be a good time to finally bite the bullet and have one large, cathartic session of child soldier trauma. What I didn’t expect would be a 10 hour binge-fest of tears and a major reconsideration of myself in the process.

I knew that this show was heavy and wasn’t going to pull punches. It’s kinda why I opted to binged the initial 26 episodes by myself on one day. And while I wouldn’t recommend it for everyone because I felt absolutely horrendous from the messed up state of mind it left me in, it’s definitely something I’d suggest doing if you have the guts for it.

As for the show and movie itself, I’m glad that I watched them both sometime during my life. As I said earlier, this is not for everyone. It’s mature, unadulterated emotions splayed on the canvas for all to see. If you couldn’t stand something like Devilman Crybaby, then this is probably not for you. But by the same token, it’s a deep retrospection of yourself and (Japanese) society as a whole when you look at it from an analytical lens. The concept of merging every being into one, essentially eliminating the self is such an extreme that I’ve never even considered would be possible, and yet, they made it work. There’s numbers and logic and science, but by the same token, nothing explicitly explains why the Evas are capable of taking matters into their own hands through the inhibiting armor. But it doesn’t need to.

Are we worthy to continue existing? Are we worthy of our lives as a whole, or as an individual? These are the two questions that Eva proudly poses, with each group giving different answers. And it’s very obvious of the stances of each party: the pilots and those that stand with them, and the Seele. However, because the opinions of the children are cast aside, it very much reflects the mentality humanity has put into its youth: disregarded due to the lack of experience. But those that do acknowledge them understand that once, they too were in their shoes. It’s why those that sided with them had similar situations of absent or neglectful parents, those that barely had an appearance, and thusly, carved a determined individual out of spite rather than praise and attendance.

And while Shinji gets a lot of flak for being hesitant to his fate, I have to firmly disagree on the logic that those fans have for him. It’s obvious from the beginning that while he wishes to not cause harm, it’s the fate he’s drawn to and eventually a key part of his identity. If he wasn’t an Eva pilot, would anyone else ever hear his cello? Would anyone else bother looking at him? He’s an average guy with average grades on purpose, and yet one who must answer the call and push past his neglectful childhood in order to sprout the seed of humanity.

As for Rei and Asuka, this is the first series in a long time that made me ask myself: “why were you written in this story? For what purpose do you have to the message of the plot?” Rei was quite simple, but Asuka? Asuka drove me mad. I could not comprehend her reasoning for existing. Without Asuka, Shinji was on a steady platform for growth and acceptance, for understanding flaw and fault and yet being able to hold his head high and make positive relationships regardless of what others think. When she came in on the 7th episode, I was excited. I was curious as to why so many people were attracted to her character, but it fell incredibly flat. Her stubborn ego and standoffish attitude clashed with the sheer positivity I had seen from online. She was asinine and cruel to Shinji, who clearly had a lot of visible issues going on, even if he was silent about them. Even after the explanation of her mother going insane to eventually committing suicide, I felt nothing. I had figured that she had ongoing familial issues (as did the rest of the cast that directly interacted with the pilots), but at this point when everybody’s special, nobody is.

It wasn’t until I had watched the movie that it finally clicked for me. Asuka, standing proudly in the apartment, staring at Shinji, echoing what had already been stated throughout the show. The confidence that Shinji could never have stared back at him, the woman within his grasp undesirable. One who is lauded and praised endlessly for her accelerated education and incredible synchronization with the Eva, and yet… everything Shinji despises. She is the truth that he rejects. She is the foil to Shinji, one who accepts and runs toward the truth, and gets hurt because of it. After all, while they both watched their mothers’ lives end, Asuka is the only one who made it shape her thoughts. It festered and built after all that time, allowing her to finally accept her AT fields and use them until the end.

It doesn’t matter how many times Shinji’s train-space in his head has to attempt to process the same information. It doesn’t get through until that very scene, and in a strange sense, made me truly enjoy Asuka as a character and thusly, that entire scene. It’s truly a shame it was resolved via domestic violence, but by the same token, has Shinji ever had such an authority with his voice to realize that it may have been effective in that moment? Not to say “boys will be boys” or anything of the sort, but by the same token, when you know nothing else aside from biting the hand that feeds, what will a wild beast do when they are taught nothing?

I’m honestly surprised that words are not talked about more in the series. Like the Spear of Longinius, they are more than capable of cutting through AT fields and resonating with the soul. You see them work and be effective with the improving synchronicity rates, when he surpasses Asuka. The positive reinforcement truly bolsters him and lets him stand for himself again after she initially arrives. Maybe it’s even what makes him desperate for her approval. Perhaps his loneliness had truly started to eat at him and she was the fastest person he could contact. There are a lot of different reasons that he could be so stuck on her. At the same time, though, from the perspective of a child deep in depression and torment, words are simply just noise that fill the air.

Speaking of which, many laud the series for an accurate depiction of depression and anxiety, and while I didn’t really get the feeling of the latter until End of Eva, Shinji’s self-affirmations and hesitance always had resonated with me. The feeling of not knowing what tomorrow will be or how the world will elect to view you always creeps in the back of your mind.

And before I forget: the original ending, while technically fantastic to break down and the message being amazing in its open-endedness, definitely left a lot to be had. That said, I am grateful it exists as it helps build more context for End of Eva. It gives an introspection on Shinji, and how he defines the human heart. The turmoil that fights at him while he sits under the staircase during the Seele raid, the thoughts that rush through his head while a giant Rei stares expectingly at him, the collective consciousness flooding through his head whilst he becomes fanta, they’re all proudly on display through those initial last two episodes.

However, I will definitely appreciate the End of Evangelion for tying everything very neatly. Knowing the fate of Shinji and the world appends to the message of the show. That despite everything, despite the apocalypse and nobody wanting to join you, you can find hope. You can carry what others have dropped and make sure your own dreams can be within reality. What others think of you shouldn’t matter. While external appreciation is nice, it shouldn’t define you as a person. However, it’s ok to be afraid. Otherwise, we would all be one person with several different bodies, and without each other being different in our own ways, there would be no reason to carry on anymore.

So, what do you wish for? What do you want? Would you like to be one, in body, in mind, and in spirit?

I didn’t realize I had this many words to say about Eva, but it did resonate with me pretty intensely. If you’ve read this far, thank you for listening to my rambling. It’s insane how content that’s produced from a region that is resistant to understanding mental health and from such a long time ago still has merit in this current age, but life finds a way. I definitely wish to watch the rest of the content that came out for this because it’s been an incredibly validating experience despite how unrealistic it is. Once I’m done with Eva, I’ll probably watch other things to make me feel absolutely horrendous and write about them here. Or not, who knows?

[knight-of-the-graces]

~~~~~UNDER THE CUT~~~~~

MOSTLY INFO DUMP PORTION

Rivendell:

The majority of Rivendell textiles are wool-based.

They do import some silk from the Overgrown but that is reserved for special occasions and items. Mostly silk threads are used for magical stitching and silk fabric as a center lining for leather and chain armor.

Almost everything else is wool.

Most of their wool comes from sheep but they also have llamas, rabbits, and goats that all are domesticated for this purpose. (Wool as a term refers to any fiber obtained from an animal, even if some of it is technically hair, for textile purposes it is wool)

Most of their export is sheep wool, they have, in fact, increased their sheep herds specifically to accommodate export in the recent decade or so as they open their borders and form alliances beyond the Overgrown.

Wool is an incredibly versatile fiber. It's water resistant and thermal properties make it ideal for the snowy mountain terrain of Rivendell's territory. It can also be made into fabric so fine it is literal gauze. It can be felted it can be knitted it can be woven. Saying Rivendell's textiles are almost 95% wool does not accurately convey how varied those textiles are. Generations of Rivendell elves have spent their ~500 year long lifespans coming up with new things to do with wool.

And its not just from sheep.

Rabbit wool is most commonly used for items like underclothes or baby clothes and blankets.

Llama wool actually comes in two distinct forms, because Llamas have layered coats. Originally they were used as beasts of burden but were also, over the generations, bred for fleece as well. Their rougher outer coats are used more for things like rope and cordage, the inner fleece is similar to rabbit.

Llama is also the least common wool, since it takes about two years for a llama to regrow its coat after shearing and they aren't exactly the most space efficient of livestock. The fleece is one of the luxury exports sold mostly to foreign nobility who want to feel fancy and brag about their "exotic [insert item here]". The outer coat fibers are mostly sold as cordage, which is excellent quality and in high demand in the seafaring nations. (This is also due to elvish craft-magic, more on that later in the worldbuilding-focused section)

Goats are a full range from coarser fibers to fine soft ones. It functions much the same as sheep fiber, just with a lower yield. Goats are primarily used in the outer villages of Rivendell in the highest, sheerest cliffs where they are more suited to the terrain than their moor wool-laden cousins.

The Swamp:

Most Swamp-made textiles are linen.

Mostly made from flax and/or hemp. (Yes, that kind of hemp, go ahead, make the jokes.)

(Hemp grown for fiber is a different variety than hemp grown for more recreational reasons. It has a much lower THC and the plant itself is a lot larger. I'm not saying they don't grow the other kind, and use it medicinally, but it isn't relevant to anything I will be writing. If that's your wheelhouse you are welcome to take this and run with it.)

Linen is a lightweight and absorbent fabric that is ideal for hotter climates so it is very common to see in the Northern kingdoms. It's absorbency does mean it dirties and starts smelling fairly quickly but it is also a very resilient fabric that takes washing well. It also has the default state of "wrinkled" which, to someone accustomed to other types of fabric, does lend itself to looking rather unkempt. (You see where I'm going with this.)

Like wool there is a wide range of fabrics, ranging from the ultra fine and soft to coarser, more Textured pieces. (basically, the underclothes to sail canvas range) both flax and hemp, especially the latter, are also used to make cordage and hemp in particular is often used to make macrame and beaded jewelry, irl and in the Swamp. Fishing nets are also a common product.

Textiles are not a notable export of the Swamp so there is less to say there.

IRL flax linen makes up some of the oldest surviving fabric and clothing samples, dating back thousands of years.

Flax fibers are not elastic, they don't stretch and shrink while worked with and don't have a lot of give. This does make working with it in the process of fabric making somewhat difficult and requiring a lot of skill. The resulting fabric though is incredibly durable so its a trade off.

The Mostly Worldbuilding Portion

This is just going to be a bunch of disorganized bullet points really

A significant portion of the flax used by the Swamp from linen production is grown and harvested in Helianthia and brought to the swamp for manufacture. This is actually the primary threat Mythland represents, (you know, besides rampant destruction and harassment along the border) is interrupting that trade route. They do also grow their own but do not enough for what is needed.

Elvish magic is almost entirely based around fiber arts. Embroidery, knot-work, charms stitched into seams and knitted into the very makeup of a garment. Wool and Gold. (gold-thread embroidery is powerful stuff) A side effect of all of this is that when small Xornoth started setting things on fire and small Scott sneezed frost it was a pretty solid indication that their magic was a bit more directly divinely sourced.

Related, elvish rope is reliable. It doesn't degrade or break or even cut easily. (This is straight from Tolkein but it works too well not to poach)

Elves build things to last, a single elf-made garment can last for several human generations. At least.

Net making/repair in the Swamp is one of those community tasks that a lot of people sit down together and do while socializing. Almost everyone has at least the basic skills required.

Generations worth of irreplaceable historical tapestries were lost when Xornoth burned down the Rivendell palace during their coup and every time the weavers and artisans and historians of the kingdom remember that they come very close to being assassinated.

hello this is an invitation/request to ramble about textile production in rivendell vs the swamp in the arranged marriages au I am very curious about this thank you

Most of this is going under a cut because it is going to get a bit long and rambly and is 100% as much an info-dump as it is a worldbuilding post.

the TLDR is Wool VS Linen

MOSTLY INFO DUMP PORTION

Rivendell:

The majority of Rivendell textiles are wool-based.

They do import some silk from the Overgrown but that is reserved for special occasions and items. Mostly silk threads are used for magical stitching and silk fabric as a center lining for leather and chain armor.

Almost everything else is wool.

Most of their wool comes from sheep but they also have llamas, rabbits, and goats that all are domesticated for this purpose. (Wool as a term refers to any fiber obtained from an animal, even if some of it is technically hair, for textile purposes it is wool)

Most of their export is sheep wool, they have, in fact, increased their sheep herds specifically to accommodate export in the recent decade or so as they open their borders and form alliances beyond the Overgrown.

Wool is an incredibly versatile fiber. It's water resistant and thermal properties make it ideal for the snowy mountain terrain of Rivendell's territory. It can also be made into fabric so fine it is literal gauze. It can be felted it can be knitted it can be woven. Saying Rivendell's textiles are almost 95% wool does not accurately convey how varied those textiles are. Generations of Rivendell elves have spent their ~500 year long lifespans coming up with new things to do with wool.

And its not just from sheep.

Rabbit wool is most commonly used for items like underclothes or baby clothes and blankets.

Llama wool actually comes in two distinct forms, because Llamas have layered coats. Originally they were used as beasts of burden but were also, over the generations, bred for fleece as well. Their rougher outer coats are used more for things like rope and cordage, the inner fleece is similar to rabbit.

Llama is also the least common wool, since it takes about two years for a llama to regrow its coat after shearing and they aren't exactly the most space efficient of livestock. The fleece is one of the luxury exports sold mostly to foreign nobility who want to feel fancy and brag about their "exotic [insert item here]". The outer coat fibers are mostly sold as cordage, which is excellent quality and in high demand in the seafaring nations. (This is also due to elvish craft-magic, more on that later in the worldbuilding-focused section)

Goats are a full range from coarser fibers to fine soft ones. It functions much the same as sheep fiber, just with a lower yield. Goats are primarily used in the outer villages of Rivendell in the highest, sheerest cliffs where they are more suited to the terrain than their moor wool-laden cousins.

The Swamp:

Most Swamp-made textiles are linen.

Mostly made from flax and/or hemp. (Yes, that kind of hemp, go ahead, make the jokes.)

(Hemp grown for fiber is a different variety than hemp grown for more recreational reasons. It has a much lower THC and the plant itself is a lot larger. I'm not saying they don't grow the other kind, and use it medicinally, but it isn't relevant to anything I will be writing. If that's your wheelhouse you are welcome to take this and run with it.)

Linen is a lightweight and absorbent fabric that is ideal for hotter climates so it is very common to see in the Northern kingdoms. It's absorbency does mean it dirties and starts smelling fairly quickly but it is also a very resilient fabric that takes washing well. It also has the default state of "wrinkled" which, to someone accustomed to other types of fabric, does lend itself to looking rather unkempt. (You see where I'm going with this.)

Like wool there is a wide range of fabrics, ranging from the ultra fine and soft to coarser, more Textured pieces. (basically, the underclothes to sail canvas range) both flax and hemp, especially the latter, are also used to make cordage and hemp in particular is often used to make macrame and beaded jewelry, irl and in the Swamp. Fishing nets are also a common product.

Textiles are not a notable export of the Swamp so there is less to say there.

IRL flax linen makes up some of the oldest surviving fabric and clothing samples, dating back thousands of years.

Flax fibers are not elastic, they don't stretch and shrink while worked with and don't have a lot of give. This does make working with it in the process of fabric making somewhat difficult and requiring a lot of skill. The resulting fabric though is incredibly durable so its a trade off.

The Mostly Worldbuilding Portion

This is just going to be a bunch of disorganized bullet points really

A significant portion of the flax used by the Swamp from linen production is grown and harvested in Helianthia and brought to the swamp for manufacture. This is actually the primary threat Mythland represents, (you know, besides rampant destruction and harassment along the border) is interrupting that trade route. They do also grow their own but do not enough for what is needed.

Elvish magic is almost entirely based around fiber arts. Embroidery, knot-work, charms stitched into seams and knitted into the very makeup of a garment. Wool and Gold. (gold-thread embroidery is powerful stuff) A side effect of all of this is that when small Xornoth started setting things on fire and small Scott sneezed frost it was a pretty solid indication that their magic was a bit more directly divinely sourced.

Related, elvish rope is reliable. It doesn't degrade or break or even cut easily. (This is straight from Tolkein but it works too well not to poach)

Elves build things to last, a single elf-made garment can last for several human generations. At least.

Net making/repair in the Swamp is one of those community tasks that a lot of people sit down together and do while socializing. Almost everyone has at least the basic skills required.

Generations worth of irreplaceable historical tapestries were lost when Xornoth burned down the Rivendell palace during their coup and every time the weavers and artisans and historians of the kingdom remember that they come very close to being assassinated.

[justblades]

⌕ LUSTFUL REQUIEM, 18+

⟢ yandere! blade x afab! reader wc : 1.7k

⟢ cw : fxck buddy! blade, dubcon, cervix kissing, degradation, toxic themes, filming, choking, somnophilia

❝ you're merely a canvas, and his longings are stains— to etch on your skin that you are none other than blade's. ❞

blade is not one to typically fall for eye candies as if it was a part of his everyday routines, no one piques his attention nor does the male has his eyes set on a person. it was not until long once he gets a taste of flavors of lust: commixing together, making a concoction he would never forget, that one day, he decided to yearn for more.

every beginnings are sweet nothings that eventually become bitterly endings - one could draw that conclusion as scenes continue to unfold, blade's grasp on your wrists tightening as he bucks his hips upwards, thrusting into your slit with little to no difficulties.

adorned by your melting features are the weak sighs you let out everytime he slips his cock into you, sweat and drool racing down your dewed skin. "louder." his voice was flat and stern, an intonation that pierces through your wary self. you part your lips wider so more natural moans come out just as the male orders you to, a smirk of satisfaction following suit once his wish is finally fulfilled.

"were you moaning this loud for that asshole earlier?" another question rises from blade's dry throat, dehumanizing queries coming out one by one the longer the session prolonged. you shook your head vigorously and shut your eyes, but blade bucks his hips with more force now, his cock's tip eventually meeting with your cervix. "don't give me that nodding and shaking your head, i only take words for an answer."

his brows tightly knit, frustration seethes out of his gritted teeth. "answer!"

uncertainty fills your heart to the brim as you slowly take a trip down the memory lane, recollecting the events that unraveled earlier that lead to this now-present, once future.

crimson hues seep out of the man's wounds, several of his teeth had fallen out already - his body failed to keep himself stable and the navy haired across him doesn't falter. he only continues. "i can do this all night." blade says with utmost confidence lacing his words, the bandages of his hand come undone, revealing such deep wounds that seemed to have never recover.

ah. you understand a part of blade's destructive behavior now. the reason he's like this was because you slept with another man behind him— "fucking slut. how could you do that to me?" he lets go of your wrists for a short moment, only for them to land back on the silhouette of your waist, cupping the margins to make your body shudder the deeper he pushes in- "come on. rock your hips like how you did as you fucked that loser."

it was only a connection solely established to cope with ephemeral temptations. shortlived feelings yet the hardest to resist is what describes lust best, especially for two beings who feed on nothing but these urges. it was a mutual bond, a shared understanding to not be cuffed by the confinements of this relationship, but blade crossed that fine line like it was a a puny boundary for him.

you should've known from the beginning. you should've been able to discern from the way his glassy eyes scrutinize your appearance everytime he realizes you just got back from the hands of another man. you should've been able to know from the way the words roll out of his tongue when he speaks out of frustration, no rational thoughts behind those lashed out actions.

amidst of all of that - it feels good to be filled to the brim by your fuck buddy's dick. regardless of how he beat the guy you were with into a pulp with no hopes of recovering, here you are, basking in the pleasures intercourse with blade had to offer. it felt gratifying, but it's also heavily contradicting.

the same hands he use to inflict wounds on people who got close to you are the same hands now gradually becoming tender in his touches as he pounds into your velvet walls - blade picks up this little detail, a sneering smile replaces his scowl in an instant. "are you feeling good now?" he leans to your face, the tall bridge of his nose few inches away from yours.

your eyes burn in crystalline reflections, perfectly reflecting blade's image as he presses his lips onto yours, tongues next in action, twisting and twirling altogether— fighting for dominance. "h. . hmm." you hum as a response, much to blade's delight. he quickly breaks it off however, a hoarse chuckle slips out next.

"i've become so whipped for you," blade muses, catching you off guard. he bats his long lashes as he trails your facial features up and down. "i can't bear the thought of anyone else fucking you like this." his dominant hand at present cups your cheek, the thumb finger drawing viscules on the dampened skin. blood rushes into your cheeks as you mewl at how his grip once more tenses, "at last, i can call you mine now." his smile felt rather eerie that you could only return a mere "huh?"

he shifts his gaze elsewhere, a coy smile replaces the eerie one in a blink. "i can't believe my fantasies are finally coming to real life." a crease between your brows forms but the male has your body flipped in 20 machs speed, your back now lays flat on the matress while his cock is nestled in between your lower lips, he rocks his hips forward to make friction, another string of mewl escaping past your mouth.

"but . . but didn't we agree there's no strings attached in this?" the atmosphere grows suffocating, blade's looming presence tripled, leaving no room for you to breathe. a click of tongue then chimes into your ears, "those agreements hold no meaning any longer. i've fallen for you . . and you have too. right?" the airway from your throat proceeds to become scuffed as his two hands wrap around the part, "b-blade i can't b—!"

he reinserts his cock back into your entrance and your cunt gladly accepts his intrusion, clamping around his shape as he continually molds your insides. "say you're mine. say only i have the privilege of relishing you like this."

'blade has gone insane', is what you thought upon hearing those bizarre words of choice. you're starting to fear for your life underneath the contrasting touches of your sexual partner, you had no choice but to fall prey to his temptations. his navy dipped scarlet strands tumble on his shoulders in every thrusts he does, he sports a look you've never seen before: a predatory gaze as he watches your lust ridden body, "i-i'm yours. . i'm all y-yours!" you yelp.

you could only hope he gives you a slack, even just a minute would be nice to indulge without him bombarding you with insults and offensive questions. "finally." he rejoices with another arrogant smile, solferino irises turning inwards at the halfhearted sentence that rang to his ears like sweet tones.

"ride me again." for the nth time, he commands you once more. you could feel all the fatigue gnawing at your bones, unable to register how much energy the mental state can drain oneself. blade sees you struggle and he helps you get into position with the help of his fists on your feet, "no, turn the other way around."

your back faces him while your hands are propped on his sculpted, bandaged thighs. this position out of the dozen ones you've already tried with blade strikes you as the most embarrassing one. your legs continue to tremble as you try to keep yourself up, but only now a late realization dawns in your mind as you get a clear sight of what's placed in front of the cabinet across the bed: a cellphone camera accurately leveled to catch both your bodies in one frame.

"hah, you just saw that now?" he pants as he reinserts his dick back into your entrance, your pussy spasms from being ravaged by his cock. "it'll be for our eyes only. i can never share such intimate moment with others, they're simply undeserving."

you wished that reassurance could've ceased your worries, but it didn't.

"this video will be our proof of love and my proof of property of you. this day marks my ownership of you." he murmurs, his deep voice meshes with the squelching sounds emitted from his cock kissing your pussy, and the jagged breathy mewls. "i'm so delighted all of my hardwork paid off, mmh. . ." low moans continue to bubble from his throat, his fingers sinking deep to your body.

"i don't want to share you anymore."

.

.

.

"those days are long over."

.

.

.

"hmph, are you listening?"

blade ascends from his position only to see your passed out state - he cracks a hoarse chuckle afterwards, seeing your frail figure right in the solace of his arms.

"this is fine. i can still worship your body regardless of your consciousness." he murmurs to himself, readjusting your position laid back again in the soft cushions. he coils his hands around his dick, tightening his grip to merit himself waves of pleasure. "ah, haah, i feel so good." blade's guttural moans bounce off the room's four walls, the male then swiftly rubs his tip on your entrance, and with little force, it slips back in. "i'm happy. i . . i know you are too."

all blade is a filth of sorrow, regrets and sadness. growing up, he never understood the charm of owning something. he'd always watch by the windowsill, a blank expression carved on his face, seeing children around his age gleefully claim what's theirs. perhaps . . his upbringing was molded that way for today. for today, he finally owns something now. something that fills the cup of his heart to the point that it's overflowing - something that could satisfy his perpetual yearning.

it is no doubt he'll never let go of you now— at present, you're nothing but a bird inside of a rotten cage. you're merely a canvas, and his longings are stains— to etch on your skin that you are none other than blade's.

that you're merely a timeless fodder for his everlasting hunger: a hunger to own and a hunger to love. at long last, he finally has one.

"i really love you."

A/N : the upbringing part is just my own and obviously not canon, it's more to expound on how he became a yandere for reader ^^ my masterlist !

[perditus]

Respect was a concept the Crow was intimately familiar with, an idea weaved throughout every interaction he engaged with daily. As a Talon it was an expectation, the man’s words and actions invoking a power that contributed to the very essence of Antiva itself. Between his dealings with the Royalty and other Talons, Viago always measured his words and actions with caution. How he held himself reflected on his House and the Crows themselves, and Teia was no exception to his considerations. Even now, the two balancing between Talons and lovers, those expectations remained firm. 

Her pushback earns a smirk from him though, amusement and acknowledgement settling in his eyes as his gaze lingers on her. Such a disrespectful action on his part surely would earn him her ire and rightfully so at that. It would not be the first time his decisions had invoked a negative response, some deserved and some not. At least that was his opinion on the matter. Sometimes, in the heat of the moment, it was not the Talon that snapped back at her but the man denied a birthright. A man whose life had been altered by no error on his part but the punishment shouldered all the same. 

Not that Teia deserved that man nipping at her heels, wielding words like daggers as though he were fighting an enemy. Viago almost always regretted it when it happened, after the emotions had been left to simmer and the man was left alone with his own thoughts. Almost, because he was not always in the wrong he felt. 

Sometimes his callousness surfaced for a reason.

“ If the situation wasn’t always so dire you might find I want to more often than you think ” he fires back gently, an amused huff slipping past him despite his best effort. As much as his life was dedicated to the Crows…Teia had managed to wiggle her way in. Carefully removed bits of the weathered wall he had built up over time, paranoia holding the parts together like a glue. She had found her way in despite it all and he loved her for it all the same. Even when they were ensnared in some argument or disagreement. 

She was like water itself, squandered by some and revered by others. Glistening under the light of Treviso that illuminated her form, warm hues brushed against her skin like paint upon a canvas. Sometimes refreshing and other times dangerous, her form dictated by the way in which she wielded herself. He was just another section of the canal in which her water passed through, weathered away by her affections and vexation all the same. The last stop ideally, her promise still held close to his heart. Viago, for all of his realism, believed fiercely in her words. 

Even now as the cooler hues of the moon kiss upon her skin he finds it a little hard to focus, her words a whisper in the wind as they slowly press against him. A slight chill lingers in the air in the absence of the sun’s light, that familiar warmth stowed away for the next day. His gaze drifts from her for a moment, settling on the sight of Treviso itself, vibrant and alive despite the horrors that plagued its streets. Treviso, with all her willpower, endured. 

“ I wanted to send a few more scouts to the docks to check the Antaam’s blockade again. To see if there’s been any changes as of late from last time ” he responds to her question, taking another sip of wine as he keeps his gaze fixated on the city. If he glanced at her again he might find himself distracted. A pleasant temptation of course, but one he needed to avoid for just a moment. “ We’ve been getting supplies from the other factions through Rook’s eluvian but ensuring its distributed properly is proving to be a logistical nightmare ” 

Qunari stood on every corner, their imposing figures obscuring several of the hidden routes they were using to supply the city. Several of them were still open, affording them a little space to coordinate, but he felt it was not enough. Not for the scale he wished to operate on. Though the Crows were his priority first and foremost, he still concerned himself with the people as well. Partially because of Teia herself as her care and concern seemed to extend far beyond his own reaches. Still, he did not mind, only vexed by the trouble of it all. 

“ Or we need to find a way to safely open up a few more routes without alerting the Antaam. I’ve considered asking Rook for help on that matter. ” Viago takes another sip from his wine, listening to her own observations and nodding in acknowledgement. His own eyes narrow slightly, reconsidering his own plans in order to accommodate hers. It was certainly more difficult working across Houses, her Crows far different from his. She knew them better than he did and was more familiar with their capabilities. 

“ If you think we need a few eyes on the drowned district I trust you. I can send one or two of my own to assist if your Crows are spread too thin ”  He pauses, considering “ Though I believe I only have the younger Crows available right now. A lot of my frontline fighters are deployed to the outskirts of Treviso right now ” 

It was one of the weaknesses of his House - their speciality was not geared towards this type of work. They manufactured poisons in secrecy, trading a few with other Houses in exchange for specific goods. If one needed an untraceable assassination they were perfect for it - and had accomplished a few during this struggle. Yet it did not change the reality of their situation - his younger Crows wouldn’t have the same flexibility as the older ones. Viago didn’t offer the fledglings either despite a few rare talents among them, keen on protecting his youth rather than sending them out to be slaughtered. 

Another reason he had felt so concerned about Jacobus, the boy’s thirst for vengeance eclipsing his common sense. He could only hope the Maker continued to protect him further. It had proved to be a fruitless endeavor to convince the boy to stand down. 

“ I might also go down myself to take care of it. Truthfully I have been considering combing through the city myself to push the Antaam elsewhere to free up those spots. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to free my blade. I only haven’t because I need to continue negotiations with the Trade Princes and the Royal family for more funding ” 

He sneers a little at the end of his comment, brow furrowing as he takes another sip of his wine. 

it is the moment where she cannot tell if the storm will capsize the boat she has seated herself upon, or if the waters will calm enough to let her pass safely — the moment she waits for him to speak, to respond. to give her any inclination of where his mind lingers, as tempestuous & incorrigible as the weather when it chooses to choke an azure sky in sullen greys. it's only when he lets go of that stubborn pride, sets it down between them like an offering — just for them, just within these four walls — that he feels the same, that he mirrors her heart, does the tension unwind from her spine. her shoulders drop as relief loosened the knots beneath her skin.

the admittance he offers her is deserving of a reward given his penchant for chewing on thoughts for an eternity. it’s a mercy that she isn’t forced to coax him out of whatever shell he’s encased himself in. it was her fault, of course, for teasing him too much — not that it made it any less vexing. she just happened to be in a forgiving mood today, disinterested in stooping to the level of petulant back-&-forth over something ultimately trivial. “ i feel the same, ” teia answers without pause. his affections were so rarely offered that she hoards them, treasured pieces in the trove she’s quietly built over the years.

she can thrive on her own as she was wholly capable of embracing time in isolation. but that truth does little to diminish her desire to spend this time with him — at least, for now. she can’t speak to the future or whether tomorrow will carry the same sweetness as today.

“ & i still do. ” her voice spills languidly, accent brushing over the words as she reclaims her wine glass from the table. she’s learned to adjust over the years — once so overtly affectionate in the physical sense, now more reserved with him. she still greets caterina with a kiss to the cheek, a gesture that never fails to make onlookers balk. but with viago, his comfort comes before her own inclinations.

still, his sentiment rings true — she enjoys him. enjoys the years as they start to age, to settle, to deepen. 

his predictable reaction to her suggestion of delegating work doesn’t surprise her. it earns a scoff & a click of her tongue, head shaking slightly in amused exasperation. she’s familiar with this particular brand of obstinacy — has long since stopped expecting anything different. “ i’d like to see you try, vi. ” as if she would ever allow herself to be dragged from a room in her own casino. such an act would incite proper crow in-fighting.

& yet he’s so sweet with his words that even through the haze of her wine-laced sass, she cannot help but smile. it touches her mouth, her eyes — an earnest expression softening her usual sharpness. she looks forward to the day treviso is free. she’d fight for treviso’s freedom with every breath in her lungs, & his phrasing … it pleased her. had he said it any other way, she might’ve picked it apart. instead, she raises her glass to it, a toast to what is owed. “ when. ”

& there are countless ways she’d like to have him — his time, his gaze, his hands. his attention drawn wholly to her. she looks forward to that day, would wait a decade if she must. by then, perhaps, he will have truly earned the teasing she doles out so generously about finely aging. not that she’d spotted a single silver thread in his curls yet — just a glimmer when the light kissed him just right.

not that she intends to find new ways to stress him either. truth be told, she’ll likely manage that feat without even trying.

she had intended to step away from the desk & gift him the space he seemed to desperately crave, often. but when his fingers curled gently around hers & pried her hand free from where it lay resting against the desk, she found herself disinclined to move. instead, she remains rooted to the spot, transfixed by the shift in him.

her gaze softens. honey-warm & full of something near reverence as she watches him — his affections were so infrequent they might as well be folklore; something found between the pages of books & whispered about over candlelight rather than something real & tangible.

but here he is, holding her hand between both of his, as if he were a man at the altar seeking absolution for his sins. it’s a sight she tucks away, folds neatly into her memories. “ you can be sweet when you want to be, ” she teases fondly, her words a surrender as she yields to his request to join him. & when he releases her hand, she follows without protest, stepping out onto the balcony in his wake.

she pivots lightly on her heels to rest the small of her back against the railing as moonlight haloed her figure in soft silver.

she crosses one arm over her chest, wine glass still cradled in the other hand, gaze sweeping out toward the horizon. she has always enjoyed high vantage points. perhaps it was the crow in her that continued to long for it, having grown accustomed to the rooftops & to watching the dawn crack open the sky in blushing pinks & soft blues. she remembers the warmth of the sun, vivid & precious — something once denied to her when she was small & shivering, tucked into alleys, clothed in threadbare scraps.

teia never imagined her life would end up like this. not back then. but here she is.

she tears her gaze away from the open sky, redirecting her attention to viago, watching him now instead of the view. “ about those deployments you mentioned earlier, ” now was as good a time as any to return to business, even if she’d rather bask a little longer in rare peace & his company. but she could do both — she’d learned to. “ what did you have in mind for them ? ”

she’s already formed ideas of her own, but she waits, as she often does, to hear his thoughts first. twisting at the waist, she leans forward slightly over the railing, bracing her forearms atop the metal as she idly swirls the wine in her glass — a slow, lazy rotation of deep carmine that catches the starlight in liquid flickers.

“ i was thinking of sending a few of my crows to the drowned district, ” she offers after a moment, eyes narrowing thoughtfully at the thought. “ things have been ... restless there, of late. it’s made me uneasy. i’d like to keep an eye out for any movement. ”

[avatar-anna]

Better Man

just a little angst about better man (taylor's version)!

Sometimes in the middle of the night I can feel you again, but I just miss you and I just wish you were a better man.

You knew letting him past the front door was a bad idea, but you didn't always have the strongest resolve, especially when it came to your ex.

Harry was laying on the other side of your bed, his back turned to you as he slept soundly on familiar sheets. You should've been asleep, but it didn't come. So you stayed awake, staring at Harry's back as it rose and fell. You admired his broad shoulders, the constellation of freckles all over, the birthmark. It was a familiar canvas, but it wasn't yours anymore. Him being here didn't change that.

"I can feel you staring," Harry mumbled, words pushed together like he was still half asleep.

"Sorry," you said before turning over.

There were only a few beats of silence before you heard sheets rustling as Harry shifted and draped an arm across you. The scent of his cologne was dizzying as he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

"Out with it then," he said, sounding a little more awake.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I know you, Y/n. You sleep like the dead unless something is on your mind."

He was right, of course, but that was part of the problem. He knew you too well.

"I just…miss you, that's all."

And God did you miss him. Harry was…well, you thought he was everything. For years, the two of you were inseparable, so incredibly in sync with each other. Harry brought out the best in you, made you comfortable in your own skin. He made you feel seen and taken care of and loved.

Until he didn't.

Breaking up with Harry was the hardest thing you'd ever done. It was messy, he didn't see it coming—which was another problem of its own—there were periods where you would somehow end up sleeping in each other's homes for days at a time afterwards, and the periods when those days ended felt soul crushing. Losing him felt like losing a part of yourself. Harry loved you, that was never a question. He just…he wasn't what you needed anymore.

"I miss you too. Constantly," he said. "But you don't have to, you know. Miss me. I've always been right here."

You kissed his arm. "I know, but we broke up for a reason, Harry."

He sighed, because he never could grasp why things ended, he couldn't figure out why you would ever want to leave him. As much as you loved each other, you were on different pages, wanted different things, became different people—or rather, he changed and you stayed the same. Harry was at a point in his career where the whole world was at his fingertips, and he wanted it too, wanted to reach and reach and reach. You didn't blame him for that, he was good at what he did, out of this world. But he'd made promises before, when he was just yours. When the world called, he changed his mind, and he wanted you to change yours with him.

Part of you knew that perhaps he'd made those promises out of fear of losing you, that he wasn't the type to believe in a simple kind of love. It always had to be more with Harry. And perhaps he wasn't aware, but you knew it was because he was afraid of love, of letting people see the worst parts of him along with the best. You knew that and fell in love with him anyway. He would be the one to break your heart but you let him do it happily.

"I love you. Can't that be enough?"

You did your best to hide a sniffle. "I wish it was, but something has always held you back from me," you said, your thumb running along his arm. "I won't settle for anything less than what I deserve."

"Then why keep letting me in?"

"Because you're a hard man to say no to, Harry Styles," you laughed, but it was more sad than humorous. Even as you talked about being apart, all you wanted to do was pull him even closer. In a lot of ways, Harry still felt like home. You were safe right there in bed wrapped up in him. "And despite my best efforts, I'm still in love with you."

Harry sighed and pulled you closer to his chest. "I want you. I can't even think about anyone else. It makes no sense for us to be broken up when we both want the same thing."

"But we don't," you said. "You want me on the sidelines cheering you on with no ambitions of my own."

"That's not—"

"You want me to watch while others throw themselves at you and pretend like it's fine because it's all for show. You want me to be another trophy in your collection, Harry, and I—I'm so much more than that."

You twisted around to face him, only to find that there were tears lining his eyes. You hated seeing him cry. It always twisted your gut into a tight knot.

"Is that really what you think of me?" he asked, sounding hurt, betrayed.

"You told me you loved me, that you wanted me in your life, but I was never a part of it," you said.

Harry had promised that nothing would ever change, that he only wanted to take on the world if he had you by his side. And you believed him at first, but somehow you'd fallen to the wayside. He left you to fend for yourself at parties with people you didn't know, took on more opportunities and projects that kept him and you apart for longer periods of time, going out almost every night and sleeping through the day, leaving you such little time alone with him. Sometimes it felt like the only way to see him was in an interview or music video.

And the moments when you had him all to yourself were perfect. He was completely and totally yours. He doted on you, took you on dates, made you breakfast in bed. He made you feel like the luckiest girl in the world, and in those moments, you knew he loved you, that he would never be tempted by anyone else. Harry really was yours, you could feel it with every cell of your body.

But those moments were fleeting. He was gone for longer periods of time, and you didn't know how to make him understand that you needed him to stay longer than the few days off he got while touring. For a long time, those stolen moments were enough, until they weren't anymore. Harry stayed away longer, and you felt him slipping. The hand you had wasn't a winning one, so you folded before he could break your heart. Well, more than breaking up with him did.

This wasn't a life together, it was just his, and you were along for the ride.

"I wanted to build a life for us. I wanted to make myself into someone you would be proud of," he said.

Your smile was sad as you threaded a hand through his hair. "I've never not been proud of you. You've always been enough, H, I don't know why you've never seen it."

To say Harry was complicated was an understatement. Even when you met he had his fair share of demons. But everyone did, and you loved him as he was. As he began to gain notoriety, he began reinventing himself, to be someone that was loved by everyone. You knew who he was was enough, but you couldn't get through to him, he needed validation from the world. Once you realized how deep that insecurity was rooted, you knew you couldn't fix him, he needed to do it himself. And you deserved someone who wasn't so obsessed with seeking approval from others that they overlooked the people that loved them most.

"All I ever wanted was to give you the world," he whispered, his gaze trained on where your hand was still on his cheek.

"All I ever needed was you," you replied, moving your hand to rest it over his heart. "I'd like to believe that the man I met so many years ago is in there somewhere, but I can't count on waiting to see him again. I—I'm not going to put myself in a position to make you choose when I know what your choice would be."

You didn't really believe that fame was something that would ever change Harry, but it did. Or it preyed on his deepest insecurities, and he let it happen. You loved him, and it hurt to see him so broken, especially when he didn't even seem to realize it, but you couldn't hold his hand while he untangled his messes anymore.

"I love you," he said again. "I have never stopped loving you."

"I have seen every facet of who you are, and I've never loved you less, flaws and all," you said, and it was true. Despite everything, Harry was a hard person not to love, and there were moments where he made you feel like you were more important to him than anything else in his life. The secret smiles and stolen kisses and songs that were made just for you. He was the kind of person that burned so brightly, but that also meant he cast just as big a shadow, and those shadows could be all-consuming. "You're a good man, Harry. I just…I think I just deserve better than you."

Harry didn't argue with you about it. He didn't try to contradict you or give you a list of reasons why you should be together. He just hung his head and held you close, a shuddering breath escaping his lips. You let yourself rest your cheek against his chest, his skin warm and familiar. It felt so right to be there, you couldn't fathom anyone else feeling as good as Harry did. Maybe no one ever would.

Wrapped up like this, your eyes grew heavy, and it became harder and harder to stay awake. Harry hadn't fallen asleep yet, you could tell just by the erratic beat of his heart against your cheek. Moving your head just to the side, you kissed him right there, right where his heart laid beneath his chest. Your heart squeezed, as if it knew this was the last time you would be letting Harry through your front door.

Turning your head to the side once more, you let yourself fall asleep on his chest, a couple tears slipping past your tired eyes.

Still awake, Harry ran a hand through your hair, letting the silky soft strands fall through his fingers. "I can be better," he whispered. Not to you, but to himself. "I'll be better. I promise."

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Celebrating Ramadan With Kalim and Jamil

Masterlist

First of all, I would like to say that all of this is incredibly self-indulgent. I know that everyone has their own traditions and ways of celebrating Ramadan but this is how my family observes this month. I would love to hear anyone else’s input.

Okay, my mother would love to meet them because they are good, respectable boys.

Every year my mother goes abaya shopping where she has to buy three different abayas (one for Eid, one for Taraweeh/Jummah prayers at the mosque and one for everyday wear) and she always gets upset because I’ve been using the same abaya for the past three years and I only get another one once my previous one has been worn down. Well, now she shall be disappointed no longer because not only would Kalim buy me three wardrobe’s worth of the most luxurious abayas known to man with the fanciest matching shawls but he also, most probably, would get her the fancy abayas as well.]

Kalim would win her heart by buying her those really luxurious hijab shawls.

Oh my god, Eid dress shopping would be a whole other monster. After finding out that I buy two dresses/outfits for Eid, he would be like ‘ha you thought’ and just pull up a thick magazine and ask my mother to point out anything and everything she wants me to have - since she’s the one that does all of the Eid shopping - and the next day I’d find a pile of readily tailored clothes in my bedroom.

A few weeks ago, my mother bought me a golden bracelet with my name written in Arabic on it and honestly part of the reason I love it is because it is exactly the kind of gift Kalim or Jamil would give me.

Iftar and Suhoor would be a feast with Kalim, Jamil and the Al-Asim wealth. Like these boys would stroll up with the rich people dates and my mother would be sold (my mum and her dad love dates).

This has nothing to do with the rest of the post but I know for a fact that the Scarabia boys would get my name right on the first try and I love them for that.

(Context: I have an Arabic/Muslim surname and I spent all my life going to a whiter-than-the-antaractic primary school that used to be a church. That place was so white that we didn’t even have proper assemblies, we had ‘service’ where the priest from down the road would come and talk about the Bible to the entire school whilst the 10-20ish Muslim kids would sit at the back of the hall and read books. So whilst I was there everyone would pronounce my last name as the way you would spell it out in english whereas the actual arabic pronunciation is different but since everyone including my teachers, the librarians, my mum and dad’s coworkers etc called me by the western pronunciation, I thought that that was what my name is. It was only after my Arabic/Quran teacher pronounced my surname in its Arabic way that my dad told me that it's the proper way of saying it. Not going to lie, it felt kind of weird knowing that I’ve been getting my own name wrong for over a decade and I still use the English pronunciation to this day)

Similarly to how Kalim would win my mum with dates and clothes, Jamil would win my mum with handmade kunafa. Trust me, my family loves kunafa.

Also, my parents love arabic tea. My mum collects tea sets and her two favourite sets are her Turkish tea glasses and silvery metallic Moroccan tea set. Jamil would see her arabic mint tea leaves and he would offer to brew it for her and it would taste like perfection, I just know it.

There was this one Ramadan where my mum got into Arabic calligraphy so she bought this big canvas and some black paint and my sister and I tore out pages from my cartridge paper pad and used my calligraphy pens and we just sat and tried to replicate the arabic calligraphy art we saw on google images whilst listening to nasheeds and I KNOW that Jamil would love to do this. Like he would come out with a masterpiece after ten minutes and then judge watch me try to make mine look half decent before trying to help me. 

I don’t think Jamil would be allowed in the kitchen when my sister, mum and I prepare food for Iftar since it’s a girls only zone but if he could enter it, I know that he would be all calm and everything would be ready at least ten minutes before the adhan compared to the rat race that happens in my house where there are some days where we are laying the table like a minute before it’s time to break fast.

So the day before or two days before Eid, my mother or her friends would invite all of the ladies and their daughters for a henna party where we pay a professional to come and put henna on our arms (and sometimes feet) and we play music and sing and dance and eat sweets and it's a whole thing. Kalim would be upset that he can’t join us but he’d understand since it’s a girls only party and there will be women who want to take off their hijabs and relax but he would pay for like ten of the best henna artists he knows and order food for us and he’d be such a sweetheart like he’d be so happy when I’d show him my designs and he’d talk about how his siblings would wear henna and he used to wear it before he got tattoos.

So, my family likes to celebrate my dad’s lunar birthday since he was born during Ramadan and then, since my sister and I made a big deal of it, my parents decided that they’ll also celebrate our lunar birthdays as well - and by ‘celebrate’ I mean that my mum would order takeaway from our favourite restaurants for dinner - and I can so see this as a thing that Kalim would do only he would treat my lunar birthday as an actual birthday with cake and presents and the whole she-bang.

I kind of want to introduce Kalim to my grandma only to see his reaction to her calling my little sister ‘shaytan’ (satan/devil) as a term of endearment.

Speaking along those lines, I also have a very artistically talented friend who shares the same morbid humour as me and as a gift she made me a canvas with the words ‘Kullu nafsin thaiqatu almawti’ (Every soul shall taste death) written in arabic calligraphy that I have hung up in my bedroom and I would love to see Jamil or Kalim react to that just being one of the first things they see.