#as you can see from the fact i never used this texture again

[viktor-howl]

Valentine's gift

... I can write Onceler x y/n fanfiction… And I will.

I am cringe AND I AM FREE.

(Also I'm still really really new here so very sorry if there's any mistakes here and there, let me know what yall think )

The closer you get to your destination, the more silent it starts to become. The air feels tense, and you catch a glimpse of a woman surrounded by papers glaring at you, having an annoyed look just from knowing of your presence.

You found yourself walking through a path you never saw before, it felt as if the very carpet you stepped on was exclusive, only allowed to very few people. Yet here you are, listening to your footsteps, the sound muffled by the texture of the velvet carpet.

At the end of the hallway, no one is guarding the pair of tall doors. You gathered courage to knock on the door, but the cushiony texture of it blocked any efforts you made. There was no other choice, you had to step in, he called you, after all.

Pushing the doors open, you finally step inside the large office. So much space, yet so little of it being actually used, it felt pointless, and made it all more echoey, which didn't make for a very welcoming environment.

“...”

You went silent for a moment, trying to ignore the fact that your boss was sitting at his desk, on a large chair, as if it wasn't enough for his impressive height. Knowing very well that you had to be the one to start the conversation, or at least get closer, you approach the desk. The tall man had seen you enter, although he was pretending otherwise. Of course, the best option was to pretend as if he didn't see you come in, as if he was busy, as if he wasn't counting the minutes until you would walk through that door to finally meet him… Of course not.

Finally, you reach the front of his desk, standing awkwardly as he finished his little act and actually acknowledged you.

“Ah, there you are!”

Those were his first words, yet he didn't even face your direction. It was obvious just from his body language, this man was nervous beyond belief. Was this the scary boss everyone hissed about in the break room? The towering figure, the one that was supposed to scold employees when they made simple mistakes? And yet, his wobbly voice made its way through your ears again.

“I called you here, since… Uhh…"

Was he stuttering? What was the meaning of this? Not only were you called in the middle of your break, but you had to walk through the whole building to find his office, and he couldn't even finish his sentence. A part of you wished that this was just a simple matter that had to be handled, nothing more. Having a little voice in your head telling you that you were probably getting fired for no reason at all was enough to keep you stressed through the whole walk…

“Well, it's… you know,”

The moment you look up and snap out of your thoughts, the taller man is fidgeting with his hands before leaning a bit forward onto the desk. One of his hands went downwards, you guessed he was starting to fidget with the cushion of the seat, while the other tried to keep the pace of his speech, signaling nothing at all, since he couldn't even finish a sentence properly.

“Around this time of the year, uhm…”

And he was stalling. And it was becoming unbearable. You kept your straight facade, staying still, even if you wanted to relax and sway from one foot to another. You had to keep up the perfect employee act, at least for a while longer until your boss decided to speak clearly.

“we gift something to special-”

‘gift’? If you thought you had any idea of what was coming when he called you here in the first place, it completely went out the window the moment he stuttered that word. As quickly as the taller man let out that shaky sentence, you felt your shoulders relax, the knot in your throat easing, leaving you in a better state than when you got here.

Onceler's eyes wandered to your figure for a moment, he definitely noticed… that little change in behavior gave him a spark of hope, maybe he wasn't coming off as a creep —which was what he convinced himself he did when he saw the stiff demeanor you had since arriving— but rather a thoughtful boss, who took care of his employees.

You, specifically.

For no reason at all, of course. Just professional behavior.

“W-we gift something to all of our employees”

He corrected himself yet again, and before you could muster a single word, he raised his previously hidden arm, pulling out a pink bag with a rather excessive ribbon for a simple gift, especially since ‘all of the employees’ were getting this kind of treatment. It amazed you, it left you with a weird feeling, but it wasn't completely impossible. After all, this man was rich enough to have the whole factory in the palm of his hand, among other expensive buildings and a mansion he barely used. At this point, everything was possible, and you figured your first impressions of the ‘evil greedy mean boss’ were wrong all along.

You gazed at the shiny bag in front of you, standing still on the desk as he left it there gently, watching as he pushed it forward, prompting you to simply take it and leave. His hands were left neatly folded on top of the desk for a few seconds, before you realized that he was trembling. The taller man tried to hide the fact by simply fidgeting, interlocking his own fingers, eyes fixated on your expression, on every little change your face could show after he left the gift for you. He was practically analyzing you.

Feeling watched, you gazed at him instead of the gift, unable to say anything just yet, and there it was. Your boss, eyes widened when you both locked eyes, visible even through those sparkly sunglasses. His brows raised, and the second he realized you were at a perfect angle to see through the shades, he tilted his face away. An unknown yet tingly warmth stirred inside you. You could see it as clear as day, the man before you was embarrassed, his cheeks tinted red. It was faint, but it was there.

“Happy Valentine's”

He mumbled under his breath, avoiding your eyes at all costs, as well as your general direction. You couldn't really tell from the new angle, but you figured he was watching every move you made from the corner of his eyes. Letting out a contained sigh, you got closer, and you could almost feel the way he flinched when you did. Taking the present, you let go of the formalities for a moment, only to thank him as a person and not as an employee.

As those words left your lips, you could see a clearly giddy smile form on his lips. He almost seemed childish from the way he was beaming after you thanked him, even if he was trying to tone it down.

“Hey, don't even mention it. And… Try to avoid showing it to other employees. Or asking what they got as a present —which they definitely got, you know, all of our employees— maybe just keep it to yourself, ahem…”

And that was your signal to go off and leave the office, which you did, of course, you didn't want the man having a heart attack just from your presence, and the walk was going to be just as long as the beginning, there was no time to waste.

Finally, you close the door and walk away, hiding the gift the best you could. You would open it to find some of your favorite items once you got home, but for now, it was a mystery.

About three minutes passed since you left the office, and Onceler couldn't contain himself anymore. Once he was completely sure you were away, his body relaxed, only for it to shiver in excitement. Bringing his hands to his face, he giggled like a schoolgirl, spinning from side to side on his chair, a dumb smile decorating his face as he patted himself in the back for being able to interact with you without making it seem weird, mumbling how proud he was of himself after your small exchange.

#oncie #onceler fanart #onceler #onceler x reader #g/n reader #x reader

[idiotdriftinginspace]

Mars 2 electric boogalo ᕦ( ᐕ )ᕡ

hey @lets-try-some-writing i've made more stuff, since:

1-i can't control myself or the amount of ideas that just come to my mind XD; and

2- I'm having SO MUCH FUN AND JOY making these and seeing other people also enjoy these :)

So Mars despite his near non existent magnetic field and atmosphere also have aurora borealis, smaler but still aurora...and I just couldn't help myself :D

A little eplenation since Mars doesn't have canon design, I just winged it and tired to mash Ares and a planetary titan, hence why the shoulder pads and skirt flaps both have the surface texture just like Earth, but at the same time are stylized after whatever greek armor Ares have

The big circles on his left arm - that's Olympus Mons: It is Mars's tallest volcano, its tallest planetary mountain, and is approximately the tallest mountain currently discovered in the Solar System. So what's a better use for it than to use it alongside classical ✨transformers mass shifting✨, and turn it into hidden/compressed shield - also borrowed from Ares, but i also think it fits his personality to have one

And now i think my absolute favorite detail: The Markings

I couldn't get your drawing of Convoy with these markings out of my head, and the fact that Mars is old and definitely had an amazing relation with his citizens before departure, so I just thought that it would be really cool and cute if the markings were a gift from his previous citizens. Either during their stay, simply as a "thank you" or "we love you", or as a parting gift, so he could always remeber them the "we're always with you, we'll never forget you" :')

And i had to throw the biolights? the energon lines running on the body (or as I like to call them: "TRON lights". I just love the concept of cybertronians to have such thing, and this is why (among many other things) I love TFP Soundwave and Shockwave and the whole IDW/MTMTE designs :D

Overall I had SO MUCH FUN drawing these AAAAHHHHH and again I'm so happy you like it as much as i enjoy making them

Bonus, because I CAN NOT BE STOPPED (⊙ヮ⚆)

Yeah he holds them in a baby carier, as for the (way to small for a titan and a buch of rovers barely the size of a car) size difference, ehm: ✨the magic of transformers mass shifting✨...and it being a cute image

close up on the babies:

(shhh I know that as of writing this post Marie Curie and Ingenuity are not canon, but neither is Marss design and I want one big happy family ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ )

Part 1: Earth

#the number of new ideas that i get while doing just about anything is growing exponentially #yet the amount of time i have slowly decreases #and the finals coming up in about 1 #like i got 3 new just while drawing the basic mars #and they keep on coming #i currently have like at least 8 different very time consuming ideas i want to draw XD #while having time for maaaybe a half XD #transformers #maccadam #unicron and earth au #my art #that is a lot of text #so much rambling-luckly this is just the site for it XD #huh i coincidently posted the Earth one somwhere around american mother's day #technically for me it was already sunday #1am heh #XD this could be a very early one for father's day #i also can just reblog this one when the day comes XD #i just wanna spread happines

[kriffin-ink]

You’re telling me Dick “I’m two seconds away from fighting the government” Grayson would be a cop?

+ I made Haley an ESA for the firefighters (she loses her leg during the Chemo explosions)

#dc comics #dc #dick grayson #nightwing #dick grayson fanart #nightwing fanart #my art #this is very old art #also i was playing around with texture #as you can see from the fact i never used this texture again #i did not like it #but yk #firefighter dick grayson

[shotmrmiller]

i'll teach you love, don't worry.

simon x virgin f!reader 2.2k words oops

explicit smut mdni

cbf!simon teaches you everything.

he convinces you to let him be your first kiss. "don't ya wanna know how to kiss when finally get your first boyfriend?"

embarrassing, because you're in college yet still completely inexperienced.

when you bite your lip and give a subtle nod of agreement, a sly smirk graces his lips.

"don't worry love, i'll teach you."

the way he slowly slanted his lips over yours, his tongue gently sliding into your mouth, his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip before pulling away— breaths mingling as he rested his forehead against yours after the searing kiss had your knees weak. if it wasn't for him holding your body up, you would've crumpled to the ground.

-

cbf!simon convinces you to let him teach you how to masturbate. (and kinda eats you out.)

"ya gotta learn your own body first before letting anyone else touch ya."

when you bring up the fact that he'd be touching you for this, simon just said, "yeah, but i'm not jus' anyone, am i love?"

kneeling on the edge of your bed, his warm breath fanned over your bare cunt as he spoke. "ya wanna use the pads of your fingers to touch the little nub tha' peeks out from under your hood." doing as he said, you flinch at the sensitivity of it. "you're just not used to it, is all, you're alrigh'. now, i want you to start drawin' small circles on your clit."

when he sees you wince, he quickly grabs your wrist and pulls your hand away. "oh. you jus' need a bit of lubrication, love. if you'd let me, i can help ya with tha'."

the word yes is scarcely past your lips when he's grabbing onto the supple underside of your widened thighs, gently urging you to lean back— arms instinctively supporting your weight behind you.

he leans forward until his mouth is inches from your cunt, and spits directly on it— the warmth of his saliva on your sensitive bundle of nerves makes your toes curl in response.

he tells you to touch yourself again. "use my spit to rub your clit again, it'll feel much better, i promise."

simon's face remained firmly nestled between your legs, so you would occasionally feel the bristly texture of his stubble grazing your fingers.

each little circle you drew on your slippery bud had the warmth in your lower belly get hotter, your limbs beginning to tighten along with the coil in your stomach. it's a euphoric pleasure that begins to build up, and up, and up. there's an obscene slick noise coming from underneath your fingertips, your thighs are shaking in simon's firm grip, spine curving and toes curling.

you're whimpering and panting, mouth slightly open, head thrown back whatever is happening inside of you. what you do know is that it feels like a rollercoaster and you're starting to reach the peak in the track.

you can feel your core throbbing, pulsing, clenching. your stomach is now painfully tight—

suddenly, your forearm begins to cramp— rapidly.

a pained yet aggravated noise slips from your mouth, and you slump back on the bed to flex your arm— stretching the ligament furiously because you have to stop your pleasure when there's a hot, slippery something in between your puffy folds, flicking at your aching clit and it does it again, and again, and again...

then you feel a suction on your pearl— you're pushed past a threshold you hadn't even known you'd hit.

all of your body's tension just floods out— you're plunged into a pool of blinding ecstasy.

you're letting out choked gasps as your spine tingles in bliss— it's a massive release of emotions, of stress, of responsibility, if only for a few seconds.

you lay in the aftershocks of your climax, limp yet you've never felt more rejuvenated in your life. there's a buzzing in your ears that fades as your soul comes back into your body, and you notice that there are still two rough hands on your quivering thighs— kneading them like a cat.

simon presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, and you jerk away when his facial hair prickles your delicate skin.

"tha' must've been somethin' else, eh? years of repressed—" You swing a sluggish hand at his head to make him stop talking, and when it connects, he returns the favor with a harsh suckle to your thigh.

"don't make me bite you, pet," he gently warns.

you grunt, then go through what just happened in your head.

"simon. did you use your mouth on me?"

he bites your leg in response.

-

cbf!simon teaches you how to give oral sex (per your request)

he all but ripped his trousers off, eager to get started. simon tells you to kneel on the pillow and find yourself face-to-face with his manhood.

it's fucking huge, there's no other way to put it. he's long, an easy 8 inches— he's so thick you can't wrap your hand completely around it.

jesus.

"look at me, pet," he commands.

you look up at him through your lashes, and he's dropping his head forward— covering his eyes, mumbling out a 'fuckin' hell'.

he takes a second to gather his wits, and then lifts his head again, to lock eyes with you.

"there is no wrong way t'do this, y'hear? the most important thing is tha' you enjoy it too. otherwise, i won't be enjoying it either, alright? now, personally, i like a little twinge of pain. so don't be afraid to graze your teeth on my cock, yeah?"

you nod and begin exploring.

the tip of your tongue licks at his glistening slit, pulling a hiss from simon. he tastes slightly salty, and something uniquely him, delicious. you pump his length with your fist, bunching up the skin on the upstroke under his flared head, then pulling down until you hit the base.

simon remains patient, never rushing you to take him into your mouth, or thrusting his hips toward your face. when you flick your eyes up at him, his dark eyes are glassy, outlined by long, straight lashes— heavy-lidded with lust. his crooked nose is stained with a tinge of pink, the same color as his bitten lips.

he's holding himself perfectly still for you, so you grant him respite. you put the entire tip into your mouth. simon lets out a strangled moan and immediately moves his hand to tangle in your hair.

you remember some of the bad porno videos and imitate what they did. you tease the bottom of his cock with the tip of your tongue, tracing the connective tissue that's right under his head. then you take him in further until he reaches the back of your throat, and the sensation makes you gag, forcing you to pull back.

there's a string of saliva connecting you two when he slips out of your mouth, and you close your eyes to breathe in through your nose. simon runs his fingers through your hair wordlessly, only speaking once you're ready to try this again.

"there's no need to take me in tha' deep, i could come from jus' your pretty lips 'round the tip alone."

you take in one more deep, calming breath before putting him in your mouth again and start bobbing your head. the groans that spill from simon's mouth invigorate you to keep going even as your jaw begins to ache, and your blowjob turns sloppy. there's saliva all over his trimmed pubic hair— your chin is slick with it too. you're drooling all over the hand that's wrapped around his base, and just when you are about to stop, simon begins to babble.

"fuck, fuckfuckfuck i'm so close please don't stop please please, fuck your mouth feels like heaven, god i've been wantin’ to do this with ya f'so long and it's finally happenin', fuck don't," he moans, "don't fucking stop, fuck, fuck—"

his cock swells in your mouth to what feels like an impossible size, one you can't handle so your jaw slackens. the edges of your teeth scrape along his rigid length. his upper body curls forward and lets out a long, guttural moan as he comes— cock twitching violently as he spurts thick, warm, ropes of cum on your tongue. it's so much that it begins to spill from the corners of your mouth, dripping down to your chin.

simon's panting harshly, his breath hitting your face when he swallows thickly, then tips your head up with an unsteady hand.

his voice is hoarse when he asks, "d'you swallow it?"

you keep your eyes locked on his as you do, then stick your tongue out of your mouth to show him. simon's gaze fixates on the display before pulling you in as he firmly grasps the back of your head and draws a tantalizing line across your tongue with his own.

later, you tell him to drink more water.

-

cbf!simon teaches you what it's like to be his (you've been his, why do you think the idiot that you met at the mall ghosted you?)

you're swollen and slick after the 4 orgasms simon gave you with his mouth and are more than ready to take him. it doesn't mean you aren't nervous about it.

"don't worry, love. i'll teach you what real pleasure is," and starts to slowly sink into your virginal channel. it's an uncomfortable feeling, and you can feel yourself trying to push the invader out.

"need ya to relax f'me, pet. the more ya resist, the more pain you'll feel. jus' give in, i've got ya," he coos. you nod into his neck and breathe in, letting your muscles go slack, and like a stone dropping into water, simon sinks to the hilt.

the sensation is too much, you feel too full, so you try to squirm away from under him, but he tilts your head back by the hair to give you a passionate kiss.

you experimentally move your hips and the delicious sensation that licks up your spine has you moaning in his mouth. simon pulls away, throws one leg over his arm, and starts to move.

his thrusts are complete, pulling out until only the tip is buried in your tender walls, and pushes until his balls are flush against your sweaty skin— the tip of his head softly pressed against the entrance of your womb.

simon suddenly changes positions, hooking your other leg over his arm, and begins to shallowly thrust halfway— hitting the sweet spot you didn't know you had until a couple of weeks ago.

he pushes into it with such precision that your vision is white behind your eyelids, and there isn't one coherent thought in your empty head.

"i've been dreamin' to put tha’ cock-drunk look on your face f'years," simon hums, "it's somethin' tha' i'll never forget. now give me what's mine, yeah?" and his hips begin to move with ardour. every drag of his thick cock is pushing you to one last mind-numbing orgasm, and simon knows it because he picks up the pace— he's relentless in his pursuit of your climax, almost as if it was his own. when your channel begins to flutter around him, he hisses through his teeth and looks down at where he disappears inside of you.

there are strings of sticky arousal that connect from your puffy lips to his pubic hair, the sounds your cunt makes are obscene, creamy, wet—

words fall from his lips unbidden.

"come around my cock, squeeze me with your tight cunt, fuck, ya feel so fuckin' good, c'mon baby, give it to me, c'mon baby, c'monbabyc'monbaby—"

you choke back a sob as you're slammed by an all-encompassing avalanche of bliss, nails digging into simon's shoulders as you milk his cock for all he's worth.

all of your senses are focused on the feel of simon pistoning into your abused hole, looking for his release. he fucks you straight through your peak, an incredible show of stamina until you're teetering on the brink of oversensitivity.

as you come down from your high, simon moves your legs that were dangling by his side, hooking them over his shoulders, changing the angle— hitting so much deeper than before.

it feels like his cock is rearranging your guts, and if you looked at your stomach, you'd see a lewd bulge in it. you're not sure how much more of him you can take, your nerves feel raw, exposed— but you hold on because the noises simon is making are something you've never heard before. those high-pitched moans are driving you insane. you honestly feel like you could come from them alone, but then his thrusts turn sloppy. after three brutal, spine-jarring thrusts, he finally stiffens.

his cock is twitching inside of you as he spills his essence, not bothering to pull out, mumbling softly about getting you a morning-after pill tomorrow.

simon gently removes himself from within you, dropping his heavy weight to your side with an oof, and drawing your overheated body towards him. the air in the room is thick and heavy— it smells of sweat and sex. the only sound that breaks the silence is the sound of your labored breathing until you whisper that you have to go to the bathroom.

he quickly gets up and carries you to it, then closes the door behind him.

simon spots the blood stain on his bed and is over the fucking moon.

he's your first and will make sure to be your last.

for my 🪐

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #cod smut #ghost smut #simon riley smut

[elodieunderglass]

Honestly thought I'd never hear the word "usborne" again. My mom used to live and breathe that company, and while I certainly don't regret a fair chunk, I do find it amusing as I look back now. I legitimately thought it had fallen off faster than Juice+.

In reference to a post where i mention my kid has the usborne “see inside germs” book.

So if people don’t know, usborne is a weird publishing company that has done indispensable books for British children for generations; they’re in every library, school and nursery, and have shelves devoted to them in every bookstore. They are how many people learned to read, and are the originators of many hyper focuses. They’re famed for doing educational lift the flap books for all ages, like “see inside your body”, as well as as the ubiquitous touch-and-feel series, “that’s not my….” In which a mouse comments improbably on various creatures not being their creature. “That’s not my dragon,” the mouse says, inviting you to stroke a dragon with a patch of fur on it, “its tummy is too soft. That’s not my dragon,” on the next page, where the dragon’s ears are lined with textured paper, “its ears are too bumpy.” This seems like such an inefficient way to find one’s missing dragon, a fact that simmers underneath you through endless repetition. Why does the mouse own so many things (pirates, ducks, polar bears) and why is it interrogating other people’s pirates etc by feeling their legs.

At any rate, turn a parents’ house upside down and these books fall out.

Which is why it’s completely hilarious that they are also an MLM.

Well. Kind of. In the old school sense. It’s less about signing up a pyramid scheme and more about getting a random citizen to buy a crate of perfectly popular books and try to sell them on from their home. It’s very traditional for Mums On Maternity Leave to do this. Pre-social media and online ordering, they’d hook up other mums at toddler group. Today, they post awkwardly on social media. The idea is that buying from another parent is cheaper than the bookstore, and they get to keep the markup. They get intense about things, and I believe they attend conferences. Nobody makes a huge amount of money and it’s unclear how undercutting local bookstores is helpful; it’s also basically the same RRP as Amazon I think.

And the books are perfectly respectable and sell perfectly well in bookstores.

So. Like. This marketing scheme is completely weird. Why?? Why does it still exist? People buy the books normally! You don’t need to promote them aggressively! You don’t need elaborate independent local middlemen schemes! You can just buy them! I have never understood this. I just file it under one of those weird mat leave hustles.

But don’t worry OP. They’re still going. They’ll never stop. The thing is that your mom got bored and online sales probably ate whatever residual profit margins were left and it’s probably very liberating for everyone to grow out of the “that’s not my cow” stage, but Usborne books are going strong.

[rallamajoop]

That time Heisenberg stabbed Ethan with a rusty fencepost

Thanks to this one fic project that needed a pornographically detailed list of Ethan’s most memorable injuries, I've spent some time trying to figure out exactly what Heisenberg stabs him with when they first met. Working mostly from a free-camera version from youtube, I settled on calling a metal pipe with a square profile.

Tumblr: I was wrong. The reality is so much worse.

Having cracked the game files and installed my own free-camera mod, I tracked down the original asset for this thing, and, well...

No, really, this is it! Check out those matching cross-bars if you doubt me.

FWIW, it isn’t actually a spear. Those semi-mangled crossbars flag it instead as a spear-headed fence-post. (This may not be a distinction that Ethan would find very comforting after being stabbed with the thing, but there it is, regardless.)

In fact, if you poke around the cemetery area just outside the castle gate, you can even find the fence it presumably came from.

Look in on the cemetery near the church from the lane leading up to the Duke's shop beside it, and this is what you'll see.

It's not a perfect match (in fact, it's even worse viewed from the opposite side, because someone has clearly stuffed up the textures on different sides of the same asset). I'll also note that if you go back to this fence again after meeting Heisenberg, you won’t find any suspicious gaps in it where a post was recently ripped out. So I’m going to just go ahead and assume this particular piece was lying in a pile of surplus scrap in the cellar somewhere, and Heisenberg did not, in fact, drag the thing all the way there from well outside the whole damn building. I mean, at that point, you’re just showing off.

The fence post is, admittedly, pretty hard to get a good look at in the actual game. Unlike all the other crap Heisenberg already has levitating around him in this scene, the fencepost doesn’t appear at all until Heisenberg stabs Ethan with it. It actually seems to emerge at speed from between a couple of barrels at the back. But if you’re enough of a lunatic to play around with the various slow motion/rewind settings that came with the free camera mod, you can get a decent shot of it in flight, cleaning up any remaining doubt that this is the same asset that was used in game.

It even freaking spins in the air as it moves. FTR, yes, it does go in pointy-end first. And the whole fucking spearhead ends up buried in poor Ethan. (Please feel free to insert your own dick-joke here.) Those paying really close attention might even note that the blood on Ethan's shirt is present even before the spear hits him, but that's just going to be virtual-stunt-coordination having a normal one.

I can offer you no similarly definitive insight into why Heisenberg would think stabbing Ethan with this thing was a good idea. I can’t even tell you if he knew for sure that it was Ethan Winters he was talking to at this point (maybe he's just playing dumb, pretending not to recognise him. Or maybe he legit didn't know that Ethan himself had made an appearance until Miranda told him. Sure, he's already got that whole conspiracy board, but finding real pictures of this Ethan-guy is surprisingly hard.) But whether Heis was already testing out Ethan’s ‘interesting body’, or whether he’d just generally assumed that anyone who could survive a full lycan assault on the village wouldn’t be too seriously inconvenienced by a little stabbing, hoo boy was this one way to make a first impression.

I’m not even sure which of these losers is the bigger idiot here: the one who imagined Ethan might still agree to work with him even after inserting a very convincing imitation-spearhead into his intestines, or the one who never thought to seriously question how he keeps shrugging off injuries just as exciting as this one.

They probably deserve each other.

#Karl Heisenberg #Ethan Winters #RE meta #winterberg #Resident Evil Village #Resident Evil #RE assets #not to soapbox but that's also why the popularity of AO3's 'soft' Heisenberg tag makes me roll my eyes so hard #this dude is 'soft' like a fencepost to the gut

[reiden]

i wanna hold the hand inside you | r.itoshi

You think of Itoshi Rin, your first love, often; the one who never was and the one who got away. Unexpectedly, you find yourself reuniting with the boy you once knew right in front of your apartment.

cw: fem!reader, reader has a habit of skin-picking, soft angst w/ happy ending, suggestive, slight hand obsession?

— ✦

You always feel uglier after you pick at your skin. Which defeats the purpose because you do it to rid yourself of an imperfection you've stumbled upon. And yet, after all is said and done and the skin has grown irritated, all you can think about is how you've only gotten uglier.

You used to pick at your face, scratching at any bumps or texture you spot in the mirror, but you've gotten better about it now. You've stopped doing it on your face altogether. It was one too many people who thought they were close enough with you to inadvertently call you ugly. You're pretty sure the first to do it had been Itoshi Sae, your neighbour two houses down. Back then, when you were only eight, you hadn't cared that he thought your habit was unbecoming. It didn't matter what Sae thought — you had Rin.

One day, you realised you didn't really have Rin either.

Since then, you've moved onto your hands.

Your face is the important part, no one ever really looks at hands. You might think about it if you were to give a handshake, but when you think of that person from memory later that day, you'll think of their face. As long as your face is left alone, it doesn't matter what happens to the skin around your nails.

But you like looking at hands. They reveal so much about someone. Whether or not they clean their nails, if they paint them, if their hands are soft or calloused — all of these things are like clues that fit together to form the bigger picture of their life. Your own hands must give away the parts of you that you would prefer to stay hidden — like the fact that you pick at your skin. Itoshi Rin has beautiful hands. His hands were pretty enough that you were glad he played a sport that relied on his legs and feet instead. You never told him that you thought so; he probably would have called you strange should he have found out.

He never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.

You pull at your skin again, pushing it down with the edge of your nail just until you feel the sharp sting of it having gone too far. It's boring at your job, nothing much to do or see. You sit on an ergonomic moving chair behind a large wooden desk, adjusting calendars and making appointments. There isn't much mystique to your job, nothing to write home about, but it gets you through life just fine. Glancing over at the time, you decide to click through and answer a few more emails in time for lunch to roll around.

In junior high, you had wanted to be an artist. You joined the art club and begged your family to let you participate in painting and sketching classes. You kept sketchbook after sketchbook filled with doodles and things — mostly of hands. It's been a long running obsession of yours. You used to draw faces but ever since you stopped messing with your face, your drawings of them phased out too.

In senior high, a teacher told you that artists don't make money from drawing hands all day. It irked you enough that you let go of that dream. You wanted to become a nail technician, you decided. The day you changed your dream, you went to tell the only person you considered close enough to tell; you went to tell Rin. It was that day that you had to come to the startling realisation that your best friend didn't seem to consider you much of a friend anymore. You spent all of your lunch break looking for him, only to find him practising at the field behind your school. When you called out to him, he ignored you. He stopped answering your texts too. You discarded the sliver of hope you had kept safe within your chest — the very thing that made you believe you would get Rin back soon. Something had changed in him and you didn't know what because he never told you.

(Because he never seemed to value you in the same way you valued him.)

You found other friends. Rin always seemed to be alone. He pulled out of school for a football program a week later, and you decided to give up on becoming a nail technician.

There's a soft beep that rings out from your phone — just one singular chime at the lowest volume you set on your first day on the job — when it's time for your lunch break. You always take it at the same tonkatsu shop seven minutes away from your place of work.

Today, it takes you ten minutes to get there because the heels you've chosen to wear are new ones; you haven't broken them in yet. You bought them for a date that you never ended up going to. Guilt over standing them up had consumed you but you just couldn't muster up the courage to go. You were all too aware of the fact that some pathetic part of you was still clinging onto a boy you haven't seen for a long time.

You remember the brush of the wind through his fringe, the sharp determined glint in his emerald eyes. You still hold onto the way his name once had a home at the tip of your tongue. Even as the years pass, Itoshi Rin digs his teeth into your skin and remains with you; parasitic and tormenting.

You ease yourself into the table in the corner and make your order, scrolling through your phone while you wait. Your feed is full of recent news, some things you understand and others you're not quite sure you get. Rin is there too, mixed in between all the posts about celebrities and new dramas. You were always bad at watching football. You were bad with most sports, they could never keep your interest for long, but you tried for Rin's sake. When the both of you were younger, you'd sit on the grass at the park and watch Rin run through the drills he'd seen his brother do earlier.

As you stare at the pictures of him standing on the pitch, stadium lights spilling down on him, you can't help but feel proud. Sweat glistens along his hairline, his hair still cut in the same way he used to have it when you knew him. The captain's armband is stretched tight around his bicep as his arm curls to hold up a trophy.

The swell in your chest comes with an ache you've never learned to get rid of. This ache that's ever-present, always there like a guest you can't seem to send home. It had only been a small sting when your friendship with Rin fully fell apart, but it grew tenfold when you realised you were in love with him. You pick at your skin again, the same place from earlier. Pain blooms at your fingertip but you choose to ignore it as you scroll past the pictures; your heart squeezes and shudders against your will, even after all these years.

The day inches past, sweat gathers along the nape of your neck. You leave the building at five precisely, stagger into the subway station at half past five, and sink into a navy blue seat at a quarter to six. The backs of your brand new heels dig into your ankles and you're certain there will be blisters when you yank them off at home.

Even still, your day has been a good one. Despite the fact that your mother had called and urged you to visit home; despite today marking the anniversary you first met Itoshi Rin; despite the way your heart always sinks at the realisation that you still remember the significance of what should be another meaningless day. Despite it all, it had been good and you stare at the passerby walking along the platform, head pressed against the cool window.

(You wonder about Rin once more, like you always do. You wonder if he's walking amongst a crowd this evening, perhaps something fried in his hand, keeping his palm warm. Maybe he's holding a drink instead — lukewarm green tea. In another world, it might have been your hand.)

The train shakes to a start, rocking you from side to side and it becomes impossible to keep yourself awake. You drift off to the memory of a boy you once knew.

-

You're sure you're bleeding. The skin around your index nail is irritated, throbbing with a dull pain. Similarly, there's a sting — a quick flash of something white hot up your left calf — whenever you take a step. Your blister must have turned into a cut.

Your soles scrape against the road, shoulders loose and hunched forward as you meander your way home. The sun has set, disappearing into the skyline in the distance as the sky grows darker and the wind picks up. Streetlights have flickered to life and you pass by a salon still packed with customers, women resting against soft cushions as they converse. You roll your neck from side to side, attempting to release some of the tension that has gathered along your muscles from staying seated almost all day, fingers loosely wrapped around the straps of your bag.

Eyes trained on the fading white marks beneath your feet, you turn the corner into the alleyway you apartment building sits in. There's a crunch of someone taking a step towards you, and then — the call of your name, familiar, wrapped up in the gravelly tone of a voice too rough to belong to the boy you once knew. But you know it's him, anyway.

"Rin?" you tilt your head to the side, scanning over his features as he stands against the sunlight, soft shadows marking his pale skin. He remains silent, almost stunned as he stands across from you, so you speak again, "It's been a while." 

He doesn’t smile, but the corners of his mouth twitch in a way that suggests one. Rin is wearing a dark windbreaker, hands stuffed into its pockets. There's a loose thread hanging off the cuff around his wrist, a tiny rip of the outer fabric revealing the slight grey beneath. He clears his throat, "Yes, it has been." There's a pause then, neither of you willing to bridge the gap in conversation as the exhaust fans whir quietly. 

"How have you been?" Rin asks, taking a step towards you. You can smell him now, flowery and sweet; its lavender, which is what you had remembered him as. In a way, it comforts you — some things will stay the same and stand the test of time, no matter how many years have inched by.

“I’ve been good,” you hum. Truthfully, you haven’t quite been good in a long time. You’ve been alright, you’ve made it from day to day, you pay your bills on time and you see your friends every other weekend; but it’s not good — it's just alright. You don’t think Rin needs to hear that, not after how long it has been since you last heard his voice following after your own. 

It's strange to think about how his mother knows your name and your face, knows that you like lemonade with some raspberry in it; how Rin was there to witness the way you got every fading scar on your arms and legs. Standing before him now, you don't even know what his apartment might look like. Your lives, which were once so intricately intertwined, have unravelled and diverged to the point of obscurity.  

You've given him the room to say something, continue the conversation or choose to end it, but Rin is quiet as he takes you in. His brows are furrowed, just a shaky line above his dark eyes as watches you fidget and begin to grow uncomfortable under the weight of stare. 

This silence is far too heavy of a burden for you to shoulder, so you cut through with a question that seems a bit out of place now. "What are you doing here?" 

Your voice seems to snap him out of whatever trance he was previously in, "I was out on a walk — wandering around, I guess." Rin shuffles even closer and the wind billows, rustling the fabric of his windbreaker. You watch his hair flutter and fall against his forehead.

"I would have thought that you'd be busy all the time, seeing as you're a celebrity now," you say with a soft laugh, twisting the ends of your coat between your fingers while your bag swings gently from side to side in your other hand. 

He doesn't seem to like that, gaze sharpening just a bit as his mouth curves into a frown. You chew on your bottom lip, feeling a bottomless pit open up inside of your stomach at the realisation that it's become so much harder to talk to the boy who used to be your best friend. (To talk to the boy who you used to love — who you are willing to love once again.) 

It's getting colder as the remaining tendrils of sun slowly disappear, hiding away to make room for the moon to shine. You nod at your apartment, "Would you...like to come inside?" You expect him to say no, after all, the two of you are no longer the people you remember each other to be. 

Surprisingly, Rin perks up at your question, firmly nodding once. He follows after you as you walk over to your front door, fishing around the front pocket of your bag for your keys. Rin stands a hair's width away from you, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck and goosebumps ripple down your arms. 

You watch him study your home, scrutinising your choice of decor — the small pictures framed on the walls, magazines and books strewn about — as he takes off his shoes. He seems to be drawn to the picture resting on one of your shelves: it's of you and him, years ago, standing next to each other with smiles full of missing teeth that look more like grimaces. You were hoping he wouldn't notice that one, one of the only pictures you've kept of and from your childhood, but you can't blame him for it either. Had it been you, that picture would have been the first one you noticed too.

"You kept this?" he's nearly whispering as he gently takes the ageing framed photo in his hands. 

You rest your bag on the floor, "Yeah. Mom gave it to me right before I moved out." He turns back to look at you and his next words are unspoken, but still so loud. 

You hadn't just kept it — you framed it, placed it in your living room for everyone to see. His expression crumbles momentarily, a quiet admission of guilt that settles in the short distance between you. Rin must not have kept much of you with him. He never says it outright, but you know better. Maybe that should leave you feeling bitter but it's somehow exactly what you expected of him. 

Has Itoshi Rin changed at all from the last time you saw him? Do you just know him too well? 

Dusting off your clothes, you take a deep breath, "It's getting late. Want dinner?"

Rin agrees. Like you were expecting him to.

-

You've never liked beer.

But you find yourself peering into a glass full of it as Rin settles in across from you. You're still in your work attire, the waistband of your skirt digging into your stomach after your full meal. Rin's left his windbreaker in a crumpled heap of fabric beside his chair, the tip of his finger drawing lines in the condensation forming on his glass. His nails are well-groomed, cut short and clean. They might be better than yours, but that’s because Rin doesn’t pick at his skin like you do. You stare until you think you shouldn’t anymore. 

He hasn't gotten up to leave. You haven't kicked him out. 

Resting your cheek against your fist, you push yourself forward, closer to him. Your slight movement draws his attention away from the glass, Rin looks up at you as his frown eases up. 

"It's strange seeing you," you admit, more open to honesty thanks to your slight state of inebriation. "Strange seeing you after so many years." 

"You have that picture," he scoffs, jerking his head in the vague direction of the picture of the two of you as kids. 

Scrunching up your nose, you lean back against the chair, "Yeah, but you don't look like that anymore. You're taller and you have too many teeth." You take a sip of your beer, feeling it fizz against your top lip, "And you're probably meaner now." 

He startles, looks offended when he throws back whatever's left in his glass. "I'm not mean." 

You raise a brow, "You were already pretty mean when you left me." You shock yourself at how easily the words slipped past your lips, how little hesitation there was. How you still sounded so hurt over it all despite having spent years convincing yourself that you didn't miss him. The treacherous muscle beating within your ribcage twists and shakes. It only takes a moment for understanding to soften the glare Rin is giving you. Reaching over, you grab the can of beer to refill his glass, cursing under your breath when you realise it's empty. "I'll get some more — just wait."

You dig around in your refrigerator and you can feel Rin watching. "You're bleeding," he says. 

"It's nothing," you wave him off, returning with another cold can. 

He shakes his head, "Do you have bandages?"

And so you find yourself with your chest pressed against the cushions of your couch, ankles hanging off the edge. You spare Rin a glance over your shoulder, awkwardness leaving you silent and rigid. He's kneeling beside you, holding two bandages he insisted he get for you from the years old first aid kit stashed away in your medicine cabinet. 

"You don't have to do this you know," you mumble, pinching at the inside of your cheek with your teeth. "I could have done it myself." 

Rin gently grabs your ankle, his fingers are cold enough to make you jolt. "It's fine," he brushes off your words with nothing more than a grumble. "This could get infected," he adds on as he places the band-aid over the cut. 

His hands are on you, fingers wrapped around your ankle almost completely. He skims them over your skin and you suppress a shiver. You think you should tell him that his hands are pretty — that they have always been pretty — but you bite your tongue. 

Your cuts don't hurt as much as they had earlier, and the blood surrounding them has dried down. You're sure nothing would have come of it being left uncovered, but Rin seems adamant on doing this simple task for you. You wonder if part of it has anything to do with being labelled as "mean." 

He shuffles over to your other ankle, jeans brushing against your rug, as does the same thing. It's been too long since you've been taken care of like this — the feeling has become wholly foreign and you struggle to sit still while Rin smooths out the band-aid over your skin. When he stands up, you twist around and slouch your back against the couch, facing him. 

Rin looms over you. He brushes some hair out of his eyes and sits down next to you. "I'm on a break — I'll be around a lot more."

You glance at him from the corner of your eye, "Around to see me?" 

And perhaps, you're imagining it, the way he moves closer so that his thigh is pushed up against it. Perhaps, you're imagining how he's leaned into you. Rin's temple makes contact with your shoulder and you exhale. 

"Yes," he whispers, looking up at you through his lashes." To see you." You can recognise the guilt swimming in his gaze, leftover from earlier in the evening.

You wish he would just say it — say sorry — but your heart yearns for him regardless of what he's said and what he should have said. It's ridiculous; it was years ago and you should have moved on. (And you know that the only reason it hurt as badly as it did was the fact that you had loved him twice as much when things soured.) You're motivated by the ache you've grown accustomed to when you bring your hand to his hair, digging your fingers in, scratching at his scalp. Much like a cat, Rin goes limp against you and you trace the side of his face with the pad of your thumb. 

You try to hide your other hand, feeling somewhat self-conscious about the way you’ve torn it up. Rin reaches for it without a second thought, lacing his fingers together with your own, oblivious to all the rough parts you’ve left behind with your habit. 

"What if I don't want to see you?" you question. You don't really mean it — you hope he knows. 

You can feel his breath, feel the rise and fall of his chest as he speaks, "I would wait until you said you wanted to." 

"Even if that took years?" You pause your movements, hand still in his hair. Rin draws a gasp out from you when he presses a fluttering kiss against your wrist — a nervous kiss, one that tests the waters. 

"Even then," he says. 

You don't know who leans in first, you want to say it's Rin but you, with your years of yearning, are not to be trusted either. His cold palms cup your face, lips parting against your own, his tongue meeting yours. He kisses you hungrily, eagerly, desperate to make up for years of lost time and memories that were meant to be shared by two but left to be held by just one instead. It almost hurts — when his teeth sink into your lip and you whimper, Rin snaps his eyes open. He licks over where he bit, fingers digging into your cheeks. 

You like the feeling of his hands on you. You want them everywhere, you decide. Rin tugs at your collar, unbuttons your shirt quickly, his hands splayed out over your sides and just grazing your bra. It's only then that you pull away, chest heaving as you stare up at him.

"Will you discard me again?" Your voice sounds almost meek in a way; you're afraid of what he might say and of what you might see. Too scared to see him hesitate, too scared to meet his eyes and not see yourself reflected in them.

But Rin's answer is instantaneous. His gaze has darkened some, lust-blown and riddled with the yearning that's been growing in your chest for years. His palm encircles your wrist, the other wraps around your waist chasing purchase. "Never," he says with a kind of conviction that leaves butterflies erupting at your fingertips. 

While his hand travels up your back, he kisses you again and this time it feels different. He moves up your wrist, intertwining your fingers once more. You know you have him in all the ways that he has you. 

#itoshi rin x reader #rin x reader #rin itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #wr.iting

[mikelogan]

gif tutorial

i was asked to make a tutorial for this set i made, so let's get right into it!

first things first, i downloaded the music videos from youtube in 1080p using 4k video downloader. unfortunately, the quality of youtube videos always seems... not great, to put it simply. plus these music videos are from the 90s, so they've been upscaled to 1080p after the fact. all of this works against us, but i've definitely worked with videos of lesser quality than these, so at least there's that!

when i gif, i import video frames to layers rather than screencapping. this comes down to personal preference. after everything has loaded, i group all my layers together and set the frame delay to 0.05. i then cropped my gif to 540x500.

the next step in my process is sharpening. i did play around with my settings a bit given the quality of the footage and the dimensions of the gif. i compared both @hellboys low-quality video gif tutorial to my regular sharpening action and my vivid sharpening action and in this case, i preferred my normal vivid sharpening action. i used this tutorial to create the action for myself, and you can find other sharpening tutorials here. this action converts my frames to video timeline and applies sharpening.

once my gif is sharpened and i'm in timeline, i begin coloring. i wanted to simplify the amount of colors used in these gifs, again because of the video quality -- i knew it wasn't going to have the crispness i would normally like for my gifs. here are my coloring adjustment layers and their settings (not pictured: my first layer is a brightness/contrast layer set to screen) (explanation in alt text):

all of these layers and their settings will vary depending on your footage and its coloring (and obviously, feel free to make the gradient map whatever colors you like if you aren't going for this exact look).

pretty basic coloring, especially with just slapping a gradient map on top (my beloved), but at this point, i still didn't like the quality of the gif, so i added a couple textures/overlays.

i put the left one down first and set the blending mode to soft light and the opacity to 8%. depending on what look you're going for, you could increase or decrease the opacity or play around with different blending modes. i like using this texture with lower quality footage because even when it's sized up a bit, it adds some crispness and makes things feel more defined. for the second texture, i set it to overlay and 75% opacity. we love and respect film grain in this house.

now for the typography! sometimes i really enjoy typography and other times it's the bane of my existence for the sole reason of just how many fonts i have installed. anyway, here are the settings i used for this set:

make sure the color of your font is white and then set the blending mode to either difference or exclusion. i can almost never see a difference between the two, but for this set, i used exclusion. below are the blending options (double click on your text layer to bring up this menu or right click and select blending options).

now we have to add the warp effect. with your text tool still selected, click this icon at the top of your screen:

from the dropdown menu, select twist. these were my settings, but feel free to play around with different warp options and their settings. the ones i use most often are flag, fish, and twist.

this last step is completely optional, but it's an effect i use in most of my sets with typography. duplicate your text layer (select the layer and ctrl+j), turn off the layer effects (click the eye icon next to effects), and set the blending mode to normal. right click on the layer and select rasterize type. right click on the layer icon itself and choose select pixels.

at this point, you should see the moving black and white dotted line showing that only your text is selected. then go to edit > stroke. here are the settings i almost exclusively use.

this is what your text should look like now:

using ctrl+T, move the layer off the canvas so you can't see any of the text anymore. you should be left with only your outline. click anywhere on your canvas to de-select the text we just moved. use ctrl+T again as well as your arrow keys to nudge the outline over to the left 2px and up 2px. this is personal preference as far as the positioning, but i almost never move it any other way. you can leave it like this, which i sometimes do, or you can set the blending mode to soft light like i did for a more subtle effect.

and that's it! rinse and repeat for each gif in your set or use a different warp effect on each gif to switch it up! if you have any questions about this tutorial or would like me to make one for anything else, please feel free to ask any time!

#gif tutorial #my tutorials #gifmakerresource #completeresources #dailyresources #chaoticresources #userdavid #coloring tutorial #typography tutorial #tutorial #photoshop tutorial

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Can I ask for a gn! Yuu that has very long hair like atleast that's touch the ground?

No need to do the request do ill wait and

P.s. I love your monster au❤❤❤

Awww, thank you! If I had to say, I think my Monster!AU is my most popular AU so far 😂 It’s just so much fun, and while I love doing the worldbuilding, the wholesome silliness and found family vibes just always get me ;;v;;

Anyway, you most certainly can! I couldn’t help but get flashbacks to my high school years when my best friend would call me Rapunzel because of how long my hair was…and the sheer panic and horror she felt when I came to school one day after getting a haircut and my hair was up to my jaw. Don’t worry, it grew back! I’ve only had it cut that short once, but never again. :V It took three years to get it back down my spine. >.>

So while you asked for a gn!Yuu with long hair (and I’m assuming it’s in Monster!AU), you didn’t necessarily specify any scenario, so I hope you enjoy the random silliness based on my experiences with critters and long hair! >w<

////

When Yuu was finally able to get out of the ceremonial robes and into more comfortable clothes on the first night in Ramshackle, it came as quite a shock to Grim and the ghosts when they unwrapped their hair to the point the tips touched the ground. Given how dirty it was, however, Yuu had to quickly tie up their hair to keep it away from the dust.

“Where did you put all that?!” Grim asked, patting a paw against their hair as they tried to run their fingers through the long strands. “Why is it so long?!”

“Because I wanted it to be long?” Yuu replied with a shrug.

“Oh…do all humans have long hair?”

Despite being a chaotic gremlin in the beginning, Grim is more curious about the length and texture of Yuu’s hair than anything. At some point he realizes just how warm it is and will often be found practically wrapped up in it, snoozing away and just enjoying the comforting scent of their shampoo.

And then there were the monster students.

Hair is not a foreign concept by any means to these monsters, though the fact that there was someone who had hair this long? It reminded so many of those who knew the story of the Sun Kingdom and the princess with long hair who used incantations on a golden flower to bring her lover back from the dead!

“…your hair doesn’t glow, does it?” Ace asked, bouncing Yuu’s hair in his hands as he held it up to see it in the light.

“If it starts glowing, feel free to freak out, because I sure will!”

An issue that they came across, however, was how often the long strands got caught underfoot by monsters near them. More than once did their head jerk back because someone happened to step on it, whether they were trying to stand up or move to another spot. It happened more than once to the point Yuu’s neck started to hurt from the frequency. Such things didn’t go unnoticed by a certain unicorn…

“Honestly, you’re going to ruin your hair and your posture if you keep letting it drag on the floor like a mop,” Vil scolded them, the unicorn’s lion-like tail swishing in agitation as he worked through the newly formed knots.

“I can just put it up in a ponytail or a bun,” Yuu told him. “It’s no big deal.”

“Absolutely not! If you’re going to keep your hair this long, then at least do something more presentable and functional to keep it healthy and strong.”

So began the long process of Yuu having to sit through lessons on hair care from Vil. They watched as he worked in the mirror to fashion their hair into new styles, referencing videos he’d watched online and resources for hair that closely fit their own to ensure he knows how to care for and teach Yuu. They listened as he instructed them on how to braid or twist their hair into styles they never even considered, and before long they were walking out of Pomefiore with hair care samples and a long, thick braid that hung at the back of their knees. It was a little heavier than they were used to, but not unmanageable.

It certainly made it easier to dance and run after their friends when a certain gremlin chimera got up to mischief!

When Cheka comes to visit, Yuu can’t help but notice how much he acted like a kitten that they just…couldn’t help but let him play with their hair. It was adorable to watch at first, but—like all things in Twisted Wonderland—something inevitably goes wrong.

“How did he get tangled up in your hair this badly??” Jack asked as he tried to figure out how to unravel the giggling child from their hair.

“Ow…Cheka was just so cute playing, and I only looked away for a second,” Yuu said, their hands on their scalp to keep the tugging at a minimum. “I didn’t think he’d get tangled up like this!”

“Halp!” Grim cried out, squirming around Yuu’s hair as well.

“Ow ow ow ow! Grim, stop! You’re pulling on my scalp!”

“I’m starting to think that human hair is used to trap prey,” Ruggie commented with a snicker, though his fingers were still combing through and untangling the hair quicker and easier than Jack.

After all is said and done, Yuu’s hair is quite fascinating even to Cater’s Magicam followers, leading to some crazy hairstyles and designs to be created (and lots and lots of safe hair dye and hair spray to be used). If Yuu wants to use a rainbow of colors or specific ones for their hair, Vil and Professor Crewel will find ways to help do so without damaging the roots or strands with harsh dyes or bleach!

Straight? Curly? Wavy? Dreadlocks? Afros? Any style and texture of hair a human could have! Imagine the possibilities with styles and colors in a world where Yuu can literally ask someone to use magic to see how something would look! And there wouldn’t be any issue with returning it to normal because magic~!!

Kudos to those of you who are able to confidently dye your hair wonderful colors, I love seeing the hues that can be done ;;v;; I'm too chicken to do it to my own hair, so I live vicariously through seeing others do it. 😃

Anyway, that’s all I can think of off the top of my head! Hope you guys enjoy! >v<

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland monster au #twst monster au #vil schoenheit #ace trappola #jack howl #ruggie bucchi #twisted wonderland yuu #twst yuu

[gretavanlace]

Sugar II (part 4)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, digital penetration, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cheating, lightly edited and I’m sorry for any typos, etc

*also, we all knew I was going to use this pic eventually, because ohhh myyy goddd. I don’t know who I should kneel down in thanks for this, but goddamn

Jake twists the ring around on your finger, studying it to avoid your eyes.

You wish it would disappear. And you know that isn’t right, but you wish it all the same. It breaks your heart to feel the intensity of his watchful, heated gaze upon it. Though it’s got nothing on the way his own seems to be caving in on itself within his chest. And he doesn’t need to tell you that for you to feel it.

His voice comes softly, straining against the aching lump you can hear in his throat, “Daniel warned me, as if it would change anything, as if I might not want to see you - but I didn’t believe him. Didn’t want to.”

He holds your hand a little tighter when you try to pull away, and abandons the ring in favor of meeting your teary stare.

“Don’t cry, sugar,” his gentle smile doesn’t meet his eyes as his thumbs drift soothingly over the backs of your hands. “You know I can’t stand it. What’s his name?”

You can’t bear for him to exist in this room between yourself and Jacob, and offer a shake of your head in lieu of responding.

“Know your enemy, and all that, love.” He prods, but again, you deny him.

“He’s not your enemy.”

There are his palms again, so warm and familiar as he cradles your face like some long forgotten song you’ve just remembered the melody to. You want to sing it forever.

Here, leaned back against tastefully textured hotel wallpaper, in a robe that smells of bleach, you feel more alive than you have in years…as if you’ve been asleep this entire time and he has just tapped you awake…time to wake up, sugar.

“Do you love him? Do you love him the way you love me?” It ghosts from his lips, the softest accusation you’ve ever heard.

Your answer comes swift and sure, without hesitation, but just as quietly, “I’ll never love anyone the way I loved you.”

Thumbs drifting over your lips now, he tilts his head and proves how transparent you really are standing here before him, “Loved?”

You want to cling to him, to curl up against his body and bury your face in his hair. To lick against his throat and suck his bottom lip through the tears you’re fighting so diligently.

Instead, you weakly offer up a fact, “I’m getting married.”

He’s closer now, clutching your face in his hands as the tip of his nose nudges against yours, “That isn’t what I asked. Do you know how much I love you? How much I’ve always loved you? How much I’m always going to love you? You think I can’t feel it? You think I can’t feel it in your entire body right now? That I can’t see it? That I can’t smell it? The way you love me? It pours out of your heart the same as it bleeds from mine.”

Maybe he thinks you look taken aback - though you aren’t - because he follows up closely with, “I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to have some mundane conversation with you and dance around what needs to be said. We’re way past that. I think we always have been.”

Pushing him back, you make your way deeper into the room. Space, that’s what you need…just a little space.

He follows, but maintains a respectful distance as he watches you move and shuffle around to avoid him.

Finally, when he can stand it no longer, he sinks down onto the bed that smells of you and reaches deep inside himself, searching around for that heart of his that you’ve always owned. He’d like to return it to you. “Do you want some truth?”

Easing down on the opposite end, perched like you’re readying to flee, you shake your head, “Probably not. But I have a feeling I’m going to get it anyway.”

“I’m not well, sugar.” He confesses, easing back to stare up at the ceiling. “That’s not your problem…but I’m willing to bet you’re not well either. What we have, it could never be one-sided, and that’s how I know you’re a fucking liar with that ring on your finger. You’re gonna ache for me forever, just like I ache for you.”

All at once, you’re a little angry. But why? Because he’s right? Because damn him for saying what shouldn’t be said? Pushing that aside, you brace to stand your ground and rise from the bed, preparing to show him out before this goes any further.

“You can’t just walk in here and act like you still know me,” his eyes track you like they’ve never seen anything lovelier, or more frightening. “You don’t know me, and you don’t know him, and you can’t just show up and start saying things like that. Josh was right, this isn’t good. You should go.”

Now anger colors his inflection as well as he stands to trail along behind you. “‘Josh was right’, don’t you fucking dare bring him into this room with us.”

“He is always going to be in the room with us, he always was…or have you forgotten why everything imploded to begin with?”

He’s stalked you into a corner now, reaching for you like you’re a cool, placid pool of aquamarine water and he has forgotten what it’s like to swim.

You shouldn’t, you fucking know you shouldn’t…but you reach out for him as well, a silent plea. Touch me. Hold me. Love me.

“Is he always going to be in the room with us? When your heart breaks, does it break for him? Is it Josh that you long for in the dark? Is it Josh that you mourn late at night when you lie beside him?” His eyes flicker toward your ring and then back to your face, searching for truths you refuse to give. “Because I don’t think it’s either one of them that can fill that hole inside you. I think that hole inside you is shaped exactly like me.”

He’s so close now, the soft wisps of hair that decorate his forearms skating beneath your touch. The strange shampoo you don’t recognize does nothing to mask the scent of him…so unchanged, so home.

“They aren’t here.” He whispers, lips barely a sigh at the corner of your mouth. “Lie to me and tell me you don’t feel it. Three years or thirty, sugar…we’re always gonna be us.”

“Jake…”

“Just talk to me,” he rests his temple against your collarbone, gentle as a feather. “I miss you every fucking second of every fucking day and it hurts so badly. Just…just talk to me. Just be here with me. Just be here, baby.”

You give in and run your fingers through his hair, holding him against you. “Why are we always in hotel rooms?”

His weight melds into you, muscles relaxing as he nuzzles into your tentative embrace. “I don’t care where we are. None of it matters. Fuck, sugar…I miss you. I didn’t even know it was possible to hurt like this. I’m terrified I’m going to wake up any second. Then again, you always did feel like a dream.”

Silence tiptoes into the room, enveloping you both as your lungs sync, arms wrapped around and clinging to one another. There is a near constant pinprick within your heart - it pokes and needles at you day and night, a tangible reminder of your loss…

But here, with him holding onto you and you holding on to him, it has gone away. Here, it’s hard to believe it ever existed at all.

“I’m so afraid all the time,” he whispers, breath warm against your chest, “so afraid that I’m going to forget this. That some terrible morning I’m going to open my eyes and realize I’ve forgotten what it feels like to hold you.”

“I’ll never forget what it feels like when you hold me.” You breathe, stroking through his hair.

“You said you don’t love him like you loved me. Like you love me,” he’s breathless now too, and clutching at you like you might dissolve into nothing under his fingertips. Breathing heavily like he’s walked a thousand miles just to be this close to you. “But does he? Does he love you right? Does he love you the way you deserve? Does he listen to you like you’re music and drink you in like art? Does he touch you like you’re sacred?”

His hands are wandering now, and you let them. You want them to wander.

His index finger eases inside your robe, tickling against the swell of your breast as his mouth charts a lingering path up your jaw until it kisses against the shell of your ear, “Does he fuck you like I did?”

“Jakey,” you gasp, just before sucking that ragged breath right back in, and his entire body stills.

“I’ve been waiting to hear you call me that since you opened the door,” his confession is winded and unsteady, “Say it again, pretty girl. Say it again.”

Once more, you call his name, and then your head is falling back to meet the wall, making room for his velvet mouth to chart slow maps over your throat.

You’re desperate to absorb him inside of yourself somehow, to carry him with you always. His tongue, soft as suede and tasting of buttery lust, slips against your own and he swallows the whimper that sounds softly out of you.

“One more time, sugar,” he’s speaking into your mouth as he makes love to your tongue between words. “Just let me have you one more time. The last time, I didn’t know…I would have paid more attention. I would have memorized you. Just once…I’ll live on it for the rest of my life.”

You’re fighting some faceless inner demon that you wish would go away, and he sees right through you, “You want me, sugar?” He’s kissing and sucking at your lips like he’s starved, “because it feels like you do. It feels like maybe you want this just as badly as I do. It feels like you need this. Your whole body is trembling.”

Arching away from the wall, you press against him.. Hungry. Desperate. Burning in the white hot flames of your need. This is wrong, and you shouldn’t do it. But you’re going to anyway…there’s never been any stopping the two of you. The invisible string that tethers you to one another refuses to snap.

“Touch me,” it pants out of you with such shaken aggression that his grip on you tightens, longing to hold on to that throbbing desire.

“Where, baby?” God, how you’ve missed his voice this way. Hot and soft, cashmere filth fanning across your cheek. “Have you missed my hands? Tell me where.”

“Anywhere,” and you mean it, but your legs are spreading for him all on their own, pulling open and disheveling your borrowed robe.

Then, there they are…those warm, searching fingers, hooking into your panties, teasing over you, reacquainting themselves with your swollen clit.

“My sugar…” he sounds winded, and a little close to tears, though his eyes remain clear and steady, locked with your own. “How could you go away and leave me? How, baby? You broke my heart. It feels like I’m dying, but the end never comes. Fucking purgatory.”

Holding onto him like you’ll never let him go, the shame flushes your cheeks and rips through your soul, “You know why, Jake.”

He’s easing inside now, deftly seeking that blissful little spot within you…his fingers tuck in against it as the words come undulating behind the flash of pleasure, “Do you think of me when he’s inside you? Do you close your eyes and find me hidden away in that gorgeous mind of yours? Do I wait for you there when he fucks you? When he takes what’s mine?”

“Jake,”

You’re rocking against his hand now, fucking and grinding into his touch, but he’s having none of it. He wants what belongs to him - your admission - and he will have it. “Tell me. Do you? Do you think of me when he’s fucking you? Do you close your eyes and fuck me instead?”

“Yes! Fuck, I try,” it sobs out of you as you bury your hands in his hair, shoving his mouth against your neck just to feel his tongue lick along your pounding pulse. “But he isn’t you. No matter how hard I fucking try, he isn’t you. No one will ever be you.”

You’ve hardly had a blink to register being yanked away from the wall before you’re being guided somewhere. Bed? Floor? It matters little. His hand continues to work you into a frenzy as his own confession blurs your head. “Me too, sugar. I look for you in all of them. And I run from you with all of them, too. It never works either way. You never leave me alone because you’re my fucking girl, do you hear me? You’re my whole fucking life.”

When your back hits the mattress you dissolve into a frantic nod, “I’m your girl, Jakey, Forever. Haven’t you always known that? Haven’t you always felt it?”

His left hand wraps around your throat, gently possessing you as his right fucks you closer and closer to that bright and beautiful end, “No. I haven’t. You watched me beg you to stay and you left anyway. You just fucking left….you should’ve killed me instead, it would have been a kindness.”

You want to answer him, really you do, there is so much to say, but he’s gotten you far too close and the words melt away on your tongue like spun sugar as tiny puffs of air begin to flutter his hair.

“That’s it,” he nods, eyes flickering with rapt attention over your face, “There’s my fucking baby. C’mon, little girl, let go for me. Cum sweet, right in my hand. Right here in my fucking palm so I can lick you up. Wanna taste it, sugar.”

“Jake, don’t stop,” you’d nearly forgotten what it’s like to beg for him. What it’s like when he has you peering over that sharpened edge just before the fall. “Please, please, please, oh god, please,”

With a jerking twist of his wrist he throws you up into the stars dancing behind your eyes, praising you with choked words you can’t seem to decipher no matter how badly you’d like to.

He thinks he might like to cease to exist in this moment…if this is all he’ll have of you, this is where he wants to take his leave - hovered over his beloved as she shakes and breaks apart so ethereally beneath him.

And for a moment, he wonders if any of this is real. If you’re real. How is it that he has found himself here with you after all this agonizing time? How is it that he opened his eyes this morning and didn’t know you were near? But, wait…did he know? Is that why everything felt so off kilter?

His forehead finds yours as your eyes blink open, dazed and stunning, “I felt you.” Words not much more than a hush, he slips his hand from between your legs and sucks his fingers into his mouth, groaning at the taste of you as though he is in pain, “I did.” Tongue lapping at your lips now, you can taste yourself lingering in his kiss, “Close, I mean. It makes sense now…how I felt. I knew you were close.”

There is a sudden rush of an emotion you can’t name twisting up within you, clawing at your heart, wringing at your soul. It isn’t love, it’s something more. It’s like the night your eyes first landed on his face all those ages ago…that ancient pull, as if you’d been encrypted in the stars, molded by the gods for one another, destined to search for each other across time. Bound and certain. Inevitable.

You need more of him, though he’s pressed into you, mouth licking and teasing at your breasts as he whispers your name like a wounded prayer.

“Inside, Jake,” you’re pulling at his shirt now, furious that it exists, you ache for his skin against your own.

“Yeah?” He rips it over his head and watches down over you. A deity with a half-grin on his lips and hell in his eyes. “You want me inside? Do you miss me there? Do you miss my cock, fuck doll? Does your sweet little pussy cry for me? Hmm? Does she weep for her Jakey?”

Jesus. He is so perfectly vulgar. Vile and shameless. And you’re weak for it, you’ve missed it so, your body is sparking and popping with it. Alive, alive, alive.

A sound you didn’t know you were even capable of making chokes out of your lungs. Devotion drips off of his tongue in the form of obscenities that make you clench around nothing, and you’d lick up every drop if you could.

Hands delving into his sweats now, you nod frantically, bowing your back to arch closer to him, sucking your mark into his chest where it has been absent for far too long. “Yes, yes, I miss your cock, Jakey. Want it so bad. I fucking need it. Give it to me, give it give it give it…”

You trail off, pink in the cheeks and ashamed of yourself. You sound like a petulant, spoiled child. Demanding and spoon-fed.

He, on the other hand, adores it, and wishes to listen to you stomp your feet for him every day for the rest of his life. “You go ahead and throw your little fit, pretty girl,” a hiss sucks in through his teeth when you wrap your fist around his cock to find his heart beating wildly for you there. “I’m gonna give you what you need. Gonna give it to you, baby, aren’t I? Don’t I always give you what you need? Or have you forgotten?”

An airy, “Please,” is all you can manage when he softly pushes your hand away and begins circling your clit with his lush, swollen tip.

Shoving the waistband of his sweats down just far enough that you can dig your nails into the tops of his thighs, you pull him in and whine beneath him when the head of his beautiful cock nestles inside you.

“Does he make you cum, sugar?” His voice tingles over your skin like crushed velvet, melting you, teasing you, making love to you like music even though his words are tiny daggers. “Does he fuck you until the sheets are ruined? Does he change them for you while you lie around, soft and spent, talking about silly things? Do you pine for his cock in your pretty cunt when he pulls out and leaves you feeling empty?”

He’s fucking you harder now, and already, you’re just so, so close. “I don’t want to talk about him. Shut up.”

“Why not?” He dips down and bites at your lip before licking into your mouth, “You love him enough for this,” your ring finger is presented to you, and then there is his wet, pink tongue lapping over the diamond, claiming it, claiming you, “but you don’t want to talk about him? C’mon, little girl, tell me all about him. Tell me how much you love him. Tell me how good he makes you feel.”

He knows better. Fuck him for wanting you to say it when he knows better.

“No,” it gasps out of you as he rolls his hips, nudging against your sweet spot exactly right, like he was just there yesterday. He remembers you perfectly.

“Why not, sugar?” He sounds winded and gorgeous, sucking blooms of heat against your throat. “Say it.”

“No,” you cry the word like praise, clawing into his back as he nods for you to dig in deeper.

“Fucking say it.” Fucking into you posessively between each word, he drags the truth from you.

“Because he doesn’t fucking matter.” Oh, what a wretched, vile, horrible bitch you are. “It’s just you, Jake…it’s only you. It’s you, it’s you, it’s you…”

He nods again, feverishly now as melodic moans begin to tremble out of him, sweeping you further under, “Take it off.”

“Hmm?” It hums out of you, hardly a sound at all you’re so lost in him.

“Take,” he pushes inside you deeply…it hurts in such a euphoric way tears prick at the backs of your eyes, “it,” again, “off.” and again.

His mouth searches out your finger and descends down around it, sucking fiercely as the tip of his tongue swirls along until you’re shuddering with goosebumps. When he pulls away, the ring comes along for the ride, only to be spat out against the sheets.

“Mine, sugar,” his resolve is weakening, he sounds soft behind the aggression. Lost underneath the possessive edge. “You’re fucking mine. I love you, baby. Fuck, I love you so much. Tell me, pretty girl, please, tell me.”

“I love you, Jake.” Your hands are tangled into his waves, pulling and petting at them, so silken, such a mess, “love isn’t the word. There are no words. There are no fucking words. Oh fuck, please, make me cum, make me cum…”

“Come on, sugar,” he urges, teeth skating along the column of your gasping throat, “you just let go. So pretty on my cock, so tight, so fucking warm. My little piece of heaven. That’s your cock isn’t it, baby? That’s your fucking cock. C’mon, soak it like a good girl, yeah?”

“Yeah,” your nails are raking across his back brutally but you can’t seem to stop.

“Yeah?” He’s right there, you can hear it in his breath, you can feel it in his rigid muscles, in the way his cock is twitching violently within your slick grip. “Are you my good girl, sugar? Still so goddamn good for me after all this time. Still just my best fucking girl?”

“Your best girl…” your chest is heaving against his as you scratch and tear at him, you need him closer and closer. He’s vibrating and growling, gnashing his teeth into your shoulder, completely wild and carnal. “Inside, Jakey,” you yank at his hair, snapping the order through grinding teeth, “cum inside me. I need it, baby. I need you inside me..”

“Say you love me,” his forehead, glazed with sweat and overheated, nestles into the crook of your neck, “say you fucking love me, sugar. Say it.”

“I love you, I love you, I love you,” it is a hymn, an antiphon just for him, secreted into this anonymous room where no one else can hear as you finally break…exploding into something otherworldly, something you only ever are with Jake…

He tears you apart so beautifully and then stacks you back together like his body has always known yours.

When he spills inside you, his body is rocked with it; his lips licked slick and shiny as filth and praise tumble off his tongue like nonsense in the haze of it all.

He wants to live in this moment, never ending and perfect, and you know that because you want it too, and you can feel it like soft spring rain misting over your skin. You can feel him like rain and you want to lie back and drown in it all.

Lifting his face away from where his mouth as been consuming you, never wont to miss that faraway full of love look in your eye, he catches your gaze and destroys you with his.

He is beauty, and love, and art, and sex, and life, and how you’ve missed him.

His plea gently breaches the calm “Don’t look for it, sugar.”

Confused, you furrow your brow, so immersed in him you’ve forgotten everything else.

“The ring,” he clarifies through a gentle kiss, “don’t look for it. Stay with me, baby. Stay.”

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[itsgodepi]

If I lose my mind | Ch. 3

Series summary: When life has given you more than enough lemons and you cannot figure out how to make a lemonade, the only way to make it work is to get rid of the whole basket. But was it neccesary to send you to a whole different dimension for that? A juicer would have done the job, really. Or, one day you go to sleep as a normal person and the next you wake up as a Formula One driver. You've never been a fan but isn't it like, one of the most exclusive sports? Pairing: CL16, LH44, CS55, DR3 x fem!reader Chapter: Previous | Next Word Count: 2.7k Also on AO3

The fact that you are playing some kind of reaction game with tennis balls right next to a Formula One car, does nothing but further consolidate the theory that this is not real. You must be dreaming. Why would you find yourself in this situation otherwise? It does not make sense. 

Not only had he made you change clothes yet again, dressing you up in a strange white jumpsuit filled with even more logos —your surname and country’s flag somehow branded on its hip—, he had also paraded you around the place for what felt like an hour. Cameras had followed you through it all, this time with no intention of recording from the sidelines but instead walking right in front of you as you tried to navigate the crowded place. 

“Feeling alright?” Nick queries when you fail to pick the third ball in a row, his eyes scanning your figure as if you were about to drop dead right that second “We can sit down if you need to” 

“No, no, it’s okay” you reassure him, willing your mind to concentrate on the game despite the way your mind is running “Let’s try again” 

Nick shakes his head in disbelief, stealing one last glance at you before he looks at something behind your back. “Don’t worry, it’s time anyway. I’ll go pick up everything so you can prepare” and with that, he is gone. 

Leaving you alone, like he already knows you won’t dare to run away.

He returns with his hands full not much later, one of the objects catching your attention straight away, a light blue helmet that you remember well. The helmet from yesterday, the one that man dressed in the bright orange jumpsuit had freed you from.  

Nick silently helps you with everything he brought: from a pair of earphones to a strange white piece of fabric that resembles a ski mask, and finally the helmet. When you hold it in your hands, the weight and smooth texture makes a familiar feeling arise from inside of you, a sudden streak of excitement that travels like thunders through your body. 

“Do I have to?” you whisper, head lowered and eyes fixed on the helmet as you try to shake that feeling., flashbacks from yesterday coming instead to play on your mind. 

Nick can only laugh at that, his eyebrows furrowing “What do you mean? Of course you have to!”   

And although that mocking response irks you, you don’t fight it. Your brain is so overworked with theories that you are not even fully conscious of what you do or why exactly you keep listening to him. You cannot fathom what could they possibly have prepared for you. 

The helmet is easy to slide on, the new barrier drowning the noises coming from the garage even more than the headphones had. It does feel a little claustrophobic though, with the way it presses your cheeks up and restricts your field of vision. Nick places something on your shoulders while you try to get used to it, some clicks sounding at your sides before he gives your helmet a pat and guides you over to the white Formula One car. There, he exchanges a few words with the people surrounding the machine, the one closest to you turning his head to send a thumbs up your way. Nick steps aside then, letting you free access to the car.  

Confused, you look up at him, a hand coming up to slide the visor of the helmet up so he can see your eyes. Are you missing something? What does he want you to do to the car? See it? You have already been ogling it from the side for half an hour.  

When you take a second too long thinking, he stretches a hand out towards the car, as if inviting you to get inside. But you are quick to decline this offer “Oh, no thank you”, raising your voice a little and taking a step back to further prove your point.  

Is this-? Are they expecting you to drive it or something? These people are crazy.  

Nick’s grin is playful “Sure, whatever you say”, his eyes rolling at your refusal, reaching a hand out for you to hold onto as he invites you once again to step into the car. 

“What for? I don’t want to” you dismiss him again, harsher this time, as cross your arms over your chest to strengthen your stance.  

You have been trailing after him like a lost puppy all day, no questions asked. It is about time you stand your ground. Are they not satisfied with having you dressed like an idiot in the middle of a place you do not know? All while cameras film your every move like this is the Hunger Games.  

“C’mon, we are late, stop playing games…” Nick tries again, his voice way firmer than before.  

The argument attracts a lot more attention than you would have liked, the eyes of all the men previously working on the car, now set on you. Everyone seems to be as confused as Nick, low murmurs being shared around the garage as they give you strange looks. That is the case for Nick as well, like he hadn’t thought you rebelling against him was ever an option, like this is just routinary. And when you finally take the time to mull it over, you understand why this change on your attitude may be sudden. The reunion, the clothes, the helmet… It was all preparation.  

How have you been so stupid? 

The stare contest is only broken by the yell of a man that echoes through the garage. “Why are you still here?! Get in the car already!” he almost orders, a deep frown set on his face. You remember him, he was in the first meeting, seated right at the head of the table. 

That angry tone sets everyone around you into motion, Nick’s hand finding the back of your shoulder and pushing you to get in the car. And you want to step your foot down, get his hands off you and run away from this madness. But it all goes so fast.  

As soon as you get seated on the car, hands start flying all around you. They screw in the steering wheel, connect some things and help you tightening down the straps of a belt that straps you down to the seat. No way out. You look up at Nick, silently asking for help —as if he was not one of them—, eyes slowly filling up with tears.  

What are you supposed to do now? There are so many people around, there is no way you are getting away from this.  

While you try to make sense of this situation, even more things start happening around you. The rest of the men —they must mechanics or something— start stepping away from the car, uncovering the wheels and giving space to a man in front of you. He walks backwards outside the garage, his face turning from side to side while holding a hand up for you to wait until he deems it safe. 

Still, nothing prepares you for the switch you feel inside of you when the man signals for you to come forward.  

From the force with which you grip the steering wheel to the way your foot falls on the pedal, everything feels instinctive. Even the low rumbling of the car coming to life under your body feels strangely familiar and comforting. A second nature. The machine manages to roll out of the garage without trouble, as if you had been doing this your whole life and you were not terrified about what is to come. There is only one possible outcome, and it does not look good for you. 

Thankfully —or maybe not so much—, your brain seems to shut down once the car passes through the garage door, the fear consuming your thoughts to such a point that you seem to go over the path in the blink of an eye. One minute you are giving one last look at Nick and the next you are being helped out of the car. The men in white had come to surround the car, one of them giving you a thumbs up and a pat to the helmet that had instantly filled you with relief. It is done, finished. You have not run into a wall, nothing bad has happened. 

And, although the fact that you seem to know exactly how to control a Formula One car should by itself have sent you into panic mode, that will instead be a problem for future you to resolve. 

Yet, as it seems to be a recurrent theme by now, that happiness is short and sweet. When you are helped out of that awful deathtrap of a car, your eyes are finally able to get an image of the place you have so stupidly driven to. Even though the road had been limited by tall, wired fences the whole way, it is only now that you are able to see the thousands of people seated behind them. You can only look at them in utter shock, vision still restricted by this awful helmet that doesn’t let your breath properly, as you try to wrap your head around what could be happening here and why have you been thrusted in the middle of it. 

Some look back at you, their smiles widening as they hold up different flags and banners for you to see, but their attention is promptly stolen by something —or someone— behind you, cheers getting impossibly louder. You follow their gaze instinctively, brows furrowed because what more could possibly be happening. 

Well, what is happening is that another Formula One car has arrived. What the hell. Your gaze uselessly follows the car, its navy blue paint a complete contrast to the white of your car —why you would even call it yours is beside the point. Not only that, but as the people on the road move aside to let the machine pass, you feel the fear that has been bubbling inside you for hours on end now, reach a new peak. The image of at least 10 other Formula One cars lined up is finally discovered before your eyes. 

The dots connect way too slowly as your eyes fly from one car to another, heart pumping blood on your ears like it is about to burst out of your chest. Had that lap been a simple warm up, a stupid way to get the cars in place for an actual race? 

It is a miracle that you manage to stand upright and follow one of the men dressed in white despite the way your legs are locking up. Breath heavy as if you had run a marathon. In hopes of calming yourself down, you reach up to take off the helmet and that stupid mask, both objects being held close to your chest as if someone was going to come and steal them.  

With this newfound freedom you try to gather your bearings for the nth time today. But, how can you, when your field of vision is filled with freaking Formula One cars of every color imaginable? Your chest can only tighten in fear of what is to come.  

The man guides you through the mass of people gathered around the cars, a couple of them sending smiles and words of encouragement your way as if you wanted to do anything other than scream your way out of this place. Everyone is just bubbling with an energy that your body cannot match, the mix of screams and cheers sending you further down into an anxiety attack instead. You feel like a puppet, the strings pulling you around this unknown place while people record your every move with one of the hundred cameras flashing all around.  

This has to be a nightmare, there is no other explanation. It cannot be the real word. How and why would you be here if it was?  

Someone does steal both your helmet and mask before you are brought to a separated part of the road, the asphalt covered with a red carpet to kind of mark a VIP area. For some reason, he flies the scene after that, leaving you completely alone in the middle of a road surrounded by a million cameras and strangers dressed from head to toe in one single color like this is a fucking film.  

The loneliness does not last long though, as you are yet again approached by another stranger and that recurrent phrase. “Congrats on P10!” a man dressed in a black jumpsuit comes to stand next to you, a smile being drawn on his lips as soon as your eyes meet “It’s your highest position yet, right?”  

Seriously, do you seem that approachable when you are freaking out or do these people just lack emotional intelligence?   

His question catches you off guard as much as the fact that he also talks to you in English, your brain scrambling to find a response that you do not have —because, well, it is your fist position ever, if that counts. You decide to mimic his grin instead, a curt nod as your answer since it looks more like an affirmation than a question.  

“Feeling nervous?” he queries right after, scrunching his nose as if he could feel the nerves running like thunders under your skin.  

For that you do have an answer: “A lot…”, but the reasoning behind it greatly differs from what he must be thinking about.  

Strangely enough, the sweet chuckle that he lets out brings a real smile to your lips, and even more so the calming words and praises that follow. That he knows you will do well, everything will turn out alright, while he confidently assures you that you will be taking some points home today. He is sure of it. The men from the meeting had said something similar, their ‘don’t be greedy’ has stayed at the back of your mind ever since. 

“You already know this but, be careful, the start is pure chaos when you are on the middle of the grid” he advices you as well, looking back at the line of Formula One cars like he can see it unfolding before his eyes.  

But why is he being so nice? Who is he? Talking to you with such care while you cannot get a single word out, too freaked out to react to any of this information. Your eyes slip down on their own to the hip of his jumpsuit, the letters showing despite the fact that he is not wearing it zipped up completely like you do, but rather with the top part wrapped around his waist. There you find what probably is the United Kingdom flag —yeah, he does sound English— and what must be his name: Lewis. 

“Anyway, better not to talk about it. Let’s go!” the man proposes at last, pointing with a tilt of his head to the men gathered a few meters away.  

Even though any sane person in your situation would have turned down the offer and run away from all these strangers, you cannot help but follow him. The fear of being left alone in an unknown place is somehow overpowering your desire of escaping. Where would you run to anyway? With which money? And if you call the police, what would you tell them? Would you even be able to understand what they say? It is not like you had been able to read a single town sign on the way here.  

Still, when you finally focus your gaze on the group of men ahead, you wonder if all this is just an extremely well-prepared hidden camera show. Because not more than a few meters away, in that group you are walking towards is the man that has been flashing through your mind all day long.  

The man from yesterday, the person who held you in his arms as everything faded around you, in that exact same bright orange outfit. 

Next chapter

___

Author's note: From now on the updates will take a bit longer since this is what I had already written, so you'll have to be patient with me hahaha. Thanks for all the nice comments and interactions!

Taglist: @purplephantomwolf @raye2000 @yuiiimd @drezzerk33 @leclercdream

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 fic #carlos sainz x reader #charles leclerc x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #f1 x you #formula one x you

[friendly-alien-fucker]

A Fire Which You Can't Put Out (1/?)

Warnings: NSFW, mentions of blood, roughhousing turns into gentle meaningful sex, non-conish, Yautja in heat, angst, this post is an emotional trainwreck, Mating season isn't as easy as it sounds, may not be canonically accurate

Pairing: Yautja x gender neutral! reader

_______________________________

"Love" you called out, standing waiting outside their door. "Please, let me in."

There was quiet as your pleas were ignored once again. They didn't usually act this way.

Usually, they left their door unlocked so you could get in whenever you wanted. They knew how much you liked their giant bed, how you loved to go over the rough textures of their trophies with your hand and arrange them by size and species. So your worry was understandable when they locked themself up, not responding to any of your calls, no matter how desperate they got.

You shook your head. They hadn't even told you when they'd come home.

In fact, you only noticed once you'd made food for the two of you and went to bring theirs into their room and the door wouldn't open. You'd heard a whimper then. Painful, like a wounded animal, and not at all like your mate. And yet the low growl that followed seconds after told you that it was.

You'd tried prying their door open, guessing the access code, tried convincing them to come out on their own with sweet promises of love and comfort, but nothing worked. They simply stayed quiet. And your worry grew.

Defeated, you finally backed away from their door after the tenth attempt to get them to answer. Perhaps they simply needed some alone time. You sighed.

"It's late, I should go to bed now. If...if there's any way I can help you, please... let me know." you waited a few seconds, hoping for any indication that they had heard you, or that they were still alive, anything. But as none came, you swallowed the lump in your throat and turned around "...I love you."

And after you left, the ship went quiet once again.

You had begun going about your business as usual, cleaning and showering and making yourself dinner. And with each task the strings of your heart tried pulling you to their room again, your brain yelling at you- just to check up on them. Just to see if they need me now. Just for a second.

But you tried to forget your pain and went to bed without them in your arms, almost letting a tear escape your eye as you put the blanket over you. Usually, you never had to use it. Their body was so warm that it was almost completely decorative. But now, you were so so cold.

You put it over your body completely, curling up fetal position and tried to even your breath. Maybe you'd wake up and see that they had joined you while you slept. The thought brought a little peace to your aching heart, and you closed your eyes. But the second you entered a dreaming state, you suddenly heard a loud crash.

Eyes still closed, you almost fell as you instinctively bolted out of bed. You felt your way around, moving along the familiar walls until you reached the hall your mate's room was located in.

And as your eyes adjusted to the darkness, you saw that it wasn't so dark after all. The light in their room was on and, most importantly, their door was open.

Without thinking, you ran towards it, almost tripping over something in the dark, but catching yourself before you hit the ground. You looked behind you in confusion. There should be nothing in this hall for you to trip over, so why?

But as a hand weakly grabbed at your ankle, realization hit you, and you instantly turned around to embrace the towering body that was laying on the floor.

"thank God, you're here!" you let your body drop on theirs and threw your arms around their neck. "Why are you on the ground? Are you alright? Do you need something, anything? Did you hurt yourself?"

But your worried babbling got cut off by the sudden sound of whining. Their voice distorted and shaking as they kept reverting to their own language, moaning a mixture of "please" and "can't wait"

It was such a strange sound, you almost couldn't believe it was coming from your mate. But as they continued and you could feel the vibrating of their chest below you, there was no way to deny it. You leaned back to get a better look and what you saw disturbed you deeply.

Their eyes, they were fixated on you completely. And they were oh so very.... desperate. Like they were asking for something, something only you could give them. Almost like a puppy, but way less innocent.

Like they were in pain, but as you trailed your hands gently over their body, you couldn't find a single scratch on them. You furrowed your brows as you felt them shiver against your fingertips.

Their chest heaved shakily against your body and their breath formed a slight fog in the air. It made you realize just how cold it was here. Had they lowered the temperature? But Yautja disliked the cold, didn't they?

You felt along their neck to discover their body didn't seem phased by the cold at all, instead it was practically burning. They leaned into your touch, purring louder than you knew they were capable of.

Their hips slowly but roughly grinded up against yours and you put a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from reacting. Something was very wrong here. You tried to push yourself up from their lap, wanting to search up on this behavior, try to find a way to help them, but they dug their fingernails into the flesh of your thighs to keep you in place, not flinching when you hissed in pain.

"y-you're hurting me" you breathed out, but they held you tighter, blood forming at your new wounds. "Let me go, you're hurting me!" you yelled now, only stopping as you got cut off by their own plea for release.

"you're - you're hurting me" they croaked weakly, imitating you before letting their hands drop from your body and to the ground with a loud thud.

You shuffled away from them to run your fingers over your legs and the sensitive wounds that were now coloring your pants a deep red. They...had never hurt you before. You looked up to find not regret or fear in their eyes but determination.

Like suddenly you were prey, bound and gagged in front of a predator ten times your strength, with no means to fight or escape. Like your fate was already sealed. And with a poorly repressed whimper, you became eerily aware of the small skulls decorating their hips.

You're going to join them soon the voice in your head commented drily this is what you get for mating a monster

You almost slapped yourself as soon as the thought entered your mind. They weren't a monster, you knew this better than anyone. You had braided flowers into their dreadlocks not too long ago, watched them try to make a flower crown with their big hands and being impossibly proud when they finished making one- you'd seen them weep over their fallen comrades, saw them swell with pride at their brother's younglings.

But as their hands shot forward, gentle hands now nothing but big razor sharp claws to you, and they took hold of your arms before you could even realize what was happening, it became harder and harder to convince yourself. And the cold of the ship's floor pressed against your back as they towered above you was making you all the more aware of your situation.

It was quiet for a few seconds. But not the kind of quiet you had come to find comfort in, the kind of quiet the dark emptiness of space offered, the eternal peace that the stars brought with them- but the quiet in which you were being suffocated by your own breathing. By your heartbeat. By the sweat running down your temple and mixing together with your tears on the ground.

It was a sort of tension you had only known of a battlefield, right before someone strikes. The few seconds between life and death, the moment history is written, the moment fate picks up her golden feather. And the more seconds passed, the surer you were that you needed to act if you were to survive this.

Consciously shoving your fear together with your common sense into the back of your mind and allowing instict to take complete hold of you, you lurched forward. Your canines were meant for tearing meat, but you'd always fancied yourself a vegan. Still, the green seeping from your mouth made sure you'd never forget your true nature.

It was a moment of complete loss of self. Followed quickly by deep, frantic fear. Of them, of yourself, of the taste on your tongue.

They roared above you, pupils shooting big enough that you could see your shaking reflection in them. They clutched you tighter, shoving you into them as their mandibles secured themselves at the spot between your neck and your shoulder.

And before you could scream for forgiveness, glowing green was replaced with metallic red. It was almost poetic how your blood mixed together. How you somehow chose the same place to leave your marks. Only that yours were a crude attempt at survival while theirs was-

What were they doing?

Their fangs were still buried in your pulsing flesh, soaking in the wet heat of your bruised body, but you could hear the low rumbling of their voice still. "Please" it was difficult to hear if it was a question or a demand, either way it sounded too sweet for the way they were behaving. Too innocent, too kind, too much like your mate.

"Please- I'm scared - I'm scaring you" they strung together sentences, and your hand moved to draw circles on their back in an ironic display of human stupidity. Always loving, always giving, always soft. Soft is what they loved about you, soft is what they swore they weren't. Soft is what they were right now. With their teeth rammed into your neck.

"I need thi- you"

They purred rythmically with every word, their hips rutting slowly against your inner thigh

"You, you, you"

and you slowly began feeling less like prey and more like devine medicine, like a cure-it-all. But in this position you were nevertheless still terrified.

One of your legs carefully wrapped itself around their outer thigh, helping you in pulling yourself up. And surprisingly, they actually let you.

Their grip faltered ever so slightly and their mandibles released from your flesh with a goosebump-inducing squelching sound. You let out a low groan and bit your tongue trying to ignore the pain, instead focusing on dealing with the issue at hand.

Your mate was in front of you, eyeing you like their last meal and waiting for another opportunity to pounce. An opportunity you were not going to give them.

"Can... C-can you lay down?" You ask with a shake in your voice, gaze looking for any sudden movements, yet none came. They moved not an inch, eyes still focused on you and you could practically see their control slipping away slowly.

Swallowing, you repeat yourself with a lot more (albeit fake) confidence. Something which seemed to work.

"My love, please- will you lay down for me?"

You almost let out a laugh of relief when they did as you said. But you kept yourself from cheering just yet.

Your legs wobbled slightly as you moved to sit on their lap once again. It was hard to put your full weight on them, they were like a furnace, burning your skin with every touch. But this was more important than your comfort, or your fear- you'd sworn to stay by their side no matter how dangerous it'd get.

Tracing your hands over their stomach and up to their chest, you reminded yourself of this. Memories of your first time getting to know them grounded you. Their patience with a species far more primitive than theirs, their courage to choose peace over violence whilst coming from a race that worshipped death and the bringers of it.

Their purring started slowly reminding you more of your own heartbeat. This was not a monster. This was not a monster.

Your eyes, which had involuntarily closed now opened, looking down at your mate with more rationality. Their upper body was bare and littered with fresh scratch wounds that you hadn't noticed before.

Their lower body was bare as well, with only a small cloth covering what was in between. Something which it was not doing well, since the outline of their erection was just as visible as the natural lubrication running down their thighs.

It had been obvious before, but with them laying underneath you now, begging for release, for salvation... Why they'd barely eaten the past weeks, why they'd forfeited their training, why they suddenly avoided touching you, you realized now with horror-

They had been preparing for mating season.

"Why didn't you tell me?" you whispered, leaning down to put a kiss to their shaking form, your fear dissipating and replacing itself with love and understanding.

Their claws reached up to your hips to hold you gently, painfully gently, like they were trying their best not to crush you in their embrace. Your mouth moved up to their face to place a kiss between their eyes, which they closed in response, leaving them completely vulnerable.

It was a strange form of power you felt in that moment. The power of being a warm meal in front of a starving man, but you didn't let yourself delight in in too long. Your hands trailed over their torso, down to where their throbbing member strained against their abs, and took it into your hands.

You jumped when they grunted underneath you, their lubrication becoming stronger as you rythmically stroked them. The rutting of their hips breaking that rythm, almost throwing you off them with how brutal it was.

Oh, you tried hard to keep yourself from tearing up, they must be in so much pain.

In any other scenario you would've found the sight erotic, but there was nothing erotic about it now.

You knew the risks of mating an alien, knew there was a difference in anatomy. They had been so self conscious about it once they trusted you enough to see them unsheathed, and it completely shattered your views on their species.

Overly confident, arrogant, beastly- those were the words most humans would use to describe them. And though you always tried to be open and understanding, even you had your biases.

Yet growing out of those wasn't hard once you'd met them. They were everything you didn't expect. Intelligent, helpful, kind and so adorably sweet against your tongue.

Their eyes that told you they wanted to devour you whole then averted, timidly glancing between the ground and your body. Their hands trembling as you guided them to lay above your chest, letting them know that the heartbeat they were feeling was for them, only.

#only making this a two parter because I've been sitting on this so long #the hard part of making smut? the smut lol #the build up is my favorite part im sorry but im asexual l #yautja #alien vs predator #alien #💚original post💚 #slasher #yautja x reader #the predator #yautja x human #let me just remind y'all im still alive and working on things im just #tired

[little-emerald-snake]

Fishnets - Garreth Weasley X F!MC

🔥 NSFW 🔞 MDNI

Warnings: fishnet kink, thigh fucking, lots of lube

1.3k words

Garreth’s jaw had nearly dropped when he’d looked up from his book to see the young woman walk into his shop wearing a tight black skirt over black fishnets that wrapped around her legs like beautiful silky spider webs.

He’d tried his best to keep his attention trained on the book in his hand but he found his attention much more drawn to her luscious legs instead. Watching her delicately move from place to place in the shop and examine different potions or different ingredients.

His heart raced when he saw those legs coming his way, eyes trailing up her body till he met her soft kind eyes. He greeted her with a nod and a small hello as she placed three different bottles beside his register. “I was wondering what the differences in viscosity were between these three lubrication potions?”

Garreth’s green eyes flitted down to the three different lubrication potions on his desk and his stomach did a small flip flop as his cheeks reddened. “Ah, yes. I have some samples so you can feel which is to your liking. One moment...”

She smiled as he disappeared behind a curtain, clutching his chest to regain his composure some before grabbing the samples of the three potions she was inquiring about and moving back up front. “All right, place your two fingers out like this, that’s right. And I’ll let you feel each one.”

She did as he asked, placing two fingers out with her palm up as he used the dropper and put a small drop on those fingers with a polite smile. She used her thumb to rub the silky smooth solution around and feel the slickness of it between her fingers. “A little smoother than I’d like I think.”

He nodded, taking a rag in one hand and her wrist in the other and using the rag to wipe her delicate fingers clean. Satisfied with his job he instructed her to hold out her hand again and he used the next vial and dropped a small drop onto her fingers.

She rolled her fingers together and let out a small hum of satisfaction, pleased with the thicker consistency that seemed to hold the smooth glide she was seeking. “That’s lovely. I’d still like to try the last one if you don’t mind.”

Utterly captivated by her, he nodded, cleaning her fingers again while chancing a glance over the desk at the black netting wrapped around her legs again.

She held out her fingers without being asked and he gave her a drop of the final liquid, letting her feel it between her fingers again while awaiting her choice eagerly. She gave a small wince and nodded. The sticky texture wasn’t what she was looking for so she decided the second vial would be the one she purchased.

She told him as much with a smile and Garreth quickly cleaned off her hand and put the tester vials on the shelf below his register, grabbing a bag and wrapping the bottle she wished to purchase delicately. “So if for some reason I don’t like the batch I’ve purchased, is there a refund policy?”

Garreth swallowed. He’d never met a woman so concerned about the viscosity of a lubrication potion before. Especially one as pretty as her. “Or is there a shop guarantee? Since I assume you’ve brewed these all yourself?”

His heartbeat quickened and he let his tongue carefully dart out across his bottom lip. “I did in fact brew these myself and can assure the quality would be an excellent match to the one you’ve tested. But if you’d prefer to check, you may open the bottle here and test it as you like.”

She smirked, glancing carefully around his shop before pulling the small bottle out and popping the cork out. Much to his surprise she dropped two small drops on her fingers before leaning over his desk and dropping the slippery fingers between her legs.

Garreth’s eyes nearly bugged as he sprang into action, bolting toward the shop's front door, drawing the curtain and clicking the lock into place in record time. His eyes flew back to her where she remained bent over his desk, skirt pulled up to reveal all her smooth skin on display beneath the fishnet stockings.

He swallowed harshly, finding his mouth rather dry as his eyes landed on her fingers working small circles over her bare pussy, not even bothering to move her fishnets out of the way first.

His cock twitched eagerly in his pants and he bit his lip at the smooth moan that left her lips as she toyed with herself. She glanced over her shoulder to where he stood near the door and motioned him closer. “Would you mind helping me test something?”

His feet were moving of their own accord and he came to stand behind her while she moved her skirt out of the way and pressed her thighs together while bent over. “I want to see if it’s slick enough to slide a cock between my thighs.”

Garreth cleared his throat, taking the bottle she handed him and letting a few drops drip down the inside of her thighs. He freed his aching erection, pressing it against the slickened spot between her thighs and she sighed as he easily slipped between them with no hesitation.

He watched her carefully for a reaction but she didn’t tell him to stop, only watched as he pushed all the way against her back side, feeling his swollen cock head pop out at the front of her thighs before receding back.

The texture of the silky smooth lube and the small black strings of her fishnets rubbing against him made his cock throb eagerly. “Don’t be shy, I want to test it fully. Don’t hold back.”

With her full consent he gripped her hips, sliding all the way back before plunging between her pillowy thighs again. He groaned, focusing on the texture of her fishnets against him while he plunged between her thighs like he’d never get the opportunity again.

He rocked against her as she held herself steady against his desk. “Oh yes, that friction is silky smooth. An excellent potion master.”

His eyes rolled and his thrusts grew faster, his tempo rocking them forward harshly as he gripped her hips so intensely he made a mental note to include a pain salve for the bruises he was sure to leave. “Fuck. You feel so good. I-I can’t stop.”

She said nothing, only humming with encouragement as she watched his cock appearing and disappearing between her thighs as he thrusted himself between them.

With a breathy cry he was pinning her against the desk, cumming between her thighs, his thick ropes of cum clinging to the stringy material of her fishnets. He followed the last bits of pleasure as they ebbed down before removing himself from between her thighs and sighing with satisfaction. “That’s the best testing I’ve ever done with these…”

She giggled, standing up as he moved away and pulling her skirt down with a giggle. She reached out to use the rag Garreth had cleaned her fingers with to clean off his cum and rid herself of some of the slick consistency of the lubrication potion. “I think this batch will work just fine. No return needed surely.”

He let out an unbelievable laugh and nodded, tucking himself away and finalizing her purchase, quickly pulling a batch of salve from a nearby shelf. “For the bruises on your hips. I apologize. It’s on the house.”

She giggled with delight as he dropped it into her bag and she made her way out of the shop with a cute wave over her shoulder.

Garreth sighed, looking around at the mess and deciding to fix his hair up before righting the shop to its former non slickened glory. All the while wondering what in Merlin’s name had just occurred.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy smut #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #garreth weasley fanfiction #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley #little emerald snake

[gladoswantscake]

Burnout - Goro Majima x Reader

Summary: A bad day at work leads to coming home exhausted and irritated, but you end his day on a good note.

Warnings: Some spoilers from Kiwami 2

A/N: From now on I'll be only sharing my works on here and on Ao3 because the Yakuza tags on Wattpad are dead 😔

Available on AO3

He couldn't wait when it was time for him to leave. The loud sounds of metal clinking and saws going off was one thing that gave him a headache, but his some of his subordinates were the biggest factor. Whatever needed to be done today can wait till tomorrow. All he wanted to do now is to get home to unwind.

Majima mopes to the front door of his home. His body slouches up against the door frame as he fishes for his house key in his pocket. He slowly inserts the key and opens the inside of his home. As he steps foot inside, he was welcomed by the intoxicating smell of food being made in the kitchen.

He smiled. He could finally relax.

He was grateful to have you. Not for what you do for him, but how much you look past of what he does for a living. Others would flock to safety due to his crazy demeanor, but you never did. You found him to be intriguing.

Majima removes his shoes and makes his way into the kitchen to find you throwing together dinner. Various ingredients scattered amongst the counter.

He approaches you from behind quietly. His hands find their way around your waist followed by a kiss on your cheek causing you to slightly squirm from the hairs of his goatee tickling you. His weary body pressed against your back watching you cutting up the last bit of vegetables.

"Whatcha' making?"

"It's katsudon. I've been wanting to try it lately. I think you'll like it."

"Anythin' you cook will always taste great." His kisses your shoulder.

You throw the chopped onions into the pan and turn to face him with his hands remaining around your waist. The crevices underneath his eye could tell that it was another stressful day for him.

Your hands reach for his eyepatch carefully removing it from around his head. The eyepatch was the only thing that could hide his flaw from anyone. In fact, you were the only person to see him without it. He was always used to wearing it when being out in public or with his close ones. It was part of his identity. Sometimes without it, it made him self-conscious, but your touch says otherwise.

He watches your gaze soften as you briefly trace your thumb underneath his missing eye. The corners of his mouth twitches upward as you lean into him, pressing your lips against his closed eyelid. Your sweet gesture causes him to melt.

"Another bad day, huh?" Your hand runs through his dark hair.

He replies with a groan. The therapeutic feeling of the nails of your fingertips gently raking his scalp causes him to become slightly drowsy. He rests his chin on your shoulder and closes his eye.

"I'm sorry to hear that it's been stressful."

"It's no longer stressful now that I'm home with my Y/N-chan." He mumbles with a smile.

"You're sweet." You lift his head up from your shoulder and peck him on the lips.

"Go get cleaned up. I'll have dinner ready when you get out."

~~~

Majima's eyes were glued to the TV as he laid in between your legs. The two of you settled in on the sofa watching a movie. His head rested on your chest listening to the soft rhythmic beating of your heart and your fingertips stroking the textured tattoo of his bare back. He soon became lost in his thoughts.

The thought of having to get up the next day for work to leave you in the bed alone once again. It made him depressed.

Majima's breathing became slightly irregular as his emotions changed.

The grip around your waist tightens catches your attention.

"Is something bothering you?"

A nerve struck him. He hardly cried. He hated crying, but your confrontation was stirring sad emotions within him.

"Just work is all, doll. Nothin' for ya to worry about." His voice slightly cracks.

He lied. He always hated to tell you about what goes on at his job knowing what he does is controversial.

"I know it's been more than work. Something's eating you."

Your words of concern allowed more tears to escape from him.

In truth, the stressful workload between the construction and the conflict within the Tojo clan was starting to get to him. To top it all off, he was working with men who hardly had a brain.

God forbid he has to tell you about relying on his critical instincts to diffuse a bomb the other day.

He stayed silent. You were catching on quick and there was no other lie to back him up. He didn't think he could keep his composure any longer when he felt you sitting up.

You help him sit up only to have him lowering his head to hide the stream of tears.

"Goro... You can look at me."

He feels your fingertips brushing underneath his bearded chin to lift his head up.

His cheek was wet, and his eye was red. His face tightens as he tries to hold back his tears to speak.

"I know you hate to talk about what goes on with your job, but you shouldn't keep your issues bottled up."

"I know, baby." He wipes his face. "I just don't want to sound like a burden to you."

He felt your fingers moving the strands of his slightly scruffy hair away from his face then cupping his cheek.

"You're no burden to me."

He knew your words meant sincerity, but the stress was starting to take a toll on him physically and mentally. He was tired and frustrated from the spiraling events. The last thing he would do was to nag your ear off.

"I can't remember the last time you've had a day off."

"Me neither." He sighs. "It's just the construction that's been a lot. A lot more responsibility. Maybe after it's all done then work won't be as stressful as it has been."

"I hope work eases up for you." Then an idea came to you.

"How about you call out in the morning? I understand that you feel like you can't take your eye off of your men, but I know Nishida-san can be trusted to take care of everything. Besides, you need it."

He gave thought your idea. A day off was what he needed. But one day away from work felt like a whole week when working with half-witted men.

"If anything bad happens while you were out, I'm sure you'll whip your men back into tip-top shape."

The joke made Majima titter. "I suppose I can do that."

Another hand reaches for his other cheek bringing his lips to yours. The pace of his heart picked up as he was brought into a feeling of bliss. The feeling of your warm hands traveling away from his cheek down to his bare chest sent tingly sensations throughout his body.

"We'll do something fun tomorrow. Just me and you."

"I'd like that." He smiles.

#im so eepy #may be some typing errors #its late and i wanted to get this out #yakuza #yakuza kiwami 2 #yakuza oneshots #yakuza x reader #goro majima #goro majima x reader #majima goro #majima goro x reader #my creations

[parrythisucasual]

Heyaa! How your doing? Can I request how Jax would react to his s/o being just like ENA? When she always swapping personality for being too overwhelmed whit all and then vomiting (just like that scene whit her and Moony, and if you can may add Moony being...Moony? Being mean to her)

I DID MY BEST SORRY SORRY I REALLY AM GETTING TO ALL ASKS I PROMISE!!!!!!

Jax  ENA! Reader

“Wh-where am I? What is this place?” you cry out, grabbing either side of your head in a panic. You grip your oddly-cut hair, clenching it in yur fists and tugging, “Who are you people?! I hate people! I’m allergic!!” you suddenly feel rather calm, that little outburst nothing more than an embarrassing slip of the mind, “So very sorry about that!” You smoot your hair into its original, calm state.

“Uh… wow, what an entrance,” a strange, mix-and-match creature speaks first, “that’s even weirder than half the (DINK!!) that comes out of Kinger’s mouth.” The doll steps closer to you, reaching forward to get your attention, “She’s rather divided anyways, look at her,” she hums, “two entirely different halves, down to the color and texture.”

You glance down at your hands, confused, “I am not two dif-” you stop. You were. You were two separate colors, two opposing textures. It was dizzyingly terrifying.You scream, the sorrow and fear rushing over you once more.

,”No, no! I don’t wanna be like this!” you wail, waving your hands, “I’m so hideous I could-” you retch, liquified censoring spewing from your lips. You hurl your guts at the group’s feet. “Is this a bad time?” A new voice questioned. The doll glanced up, “Oh, Caine, good! Can you do your whole… you know, introduction? It might help?”

“Or it’ll make her have even more of a crisis,” The rabbit pointed out, “I don’t know about you all, but I don’t exactly want to deal with her puking again. “HEY! You leave her alone, only I’M allowed to bully her, you wad!” A floating sphere appeared behind you. 

“Moony!” Thank goodness, I was worried about you!” You chirp, somehow knowing she is your friend. The calmness washed over you once more as you hopped up, smiling at her. You glance at the others once more, “Apologies again, dearest chums! I entirely forgot to introduce myself! I’m (Y/N)!”

~~~~~~~~~~TIMESKIP~~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve been stuck in the circus for a few weeks now. Part of you was used to it now, you resigned yourself to the fact this is how things were now. The other side, however, was the part that kept you thinking you’d wake up, or that you could find an exit soon. It was hard, being so bipolar, but you had gotten used to it.

Recently, you’d noticed Jax had been following you around. Well, more than he used to. He used to follow you occasionally, mostly to make snide comments. That was a pastime of his. But in these recent encounters, some of them you’d never directly interacted with him. You’d just see him at a distance, and he’d look away or leave. 

“Ugh! (Y/N), get your weird, gross boyfriend!” Moony complained loudly, making an exaggerated sick face. She floated around you, now in front of you. You glance up at her, “I don’t have a boyfriend, friend Moony!” you chirp, smiling. She nods her head behind you, “Then what do you call HIM?”

You turn, noticing the lavender rabbit quite a distance behind you. You blink in confusion, squinting at him. Why was he following you? You wave at him, arm making large swipes above your head, “JAX!” -you call- “Over here!”

He makes a face at you, although he quickens his pace. He’s now awkwardly jogging, trying to catch up to you. “EW! (Y/N), no! Don’t call him over! Ugh! It was supposed to be besties night!” Your shoulders droop, suddenly awash in despair, “You’re RIGHT! I’m sorry Moony! I’m such a horrible friend! I ruined everythiiiiiiing!” She rolls her eyes, then unexpectedly perked up.

“Wait, maybe we can hang out with him! He’s a guy, but having another person would make truth or dare funner!” She grinned, looking at you mischievously. You sniffle as Jax finally catches up with the two of you. 

“Half and half, nice to see ya,” his smile was wide, but his voice suggested a casual tone. You rub at your eyes, “It can’t be! I’m no-good! I’ll make you upset!” Your shoulders roll forward suddenly as you stand upright, at a slightly inclined angle.

Jax was unfazed by the sudden change, not sparing more than a bored stare. You smile at him regardless, “Ah! Yes! Come with us! Moony’s room ahead!” He followed behind, groaning, “A weird nonbinary and girl sleepover? No thanks! But fine.” 

The group of you entered Moony’s room. She’d already gotten everything ready. Snacks piled in one corner and a pile of pillows and blankets all over the floor. You clap your hands together happily, “Oh! All set up! How lonely! Deepest gratitude!” You settle yourself on the cat pillow and relax. Moony lays herself in the beanbag chair beside you, and Jax on your other side.

Moony sighed dramatically, “In proper besties night tradition, I will now spill all the latest drama I’ve come across,” she cleared her throat, and delved into a long-winded speech. You glance at Jax midway through her dialog drop. “So! Why were you truly following us?” you question him, “I’m well aware you do it a lot. I didn’t realize others knew as well, or I’d have asked sooner.” 

His cheeks flushed very slightly, barely noticeable, “What are you talking about?” Oh, so thats the direction- playing dumb. You get a wild urge and decide to play with this a bit.

Yeah, I could have sworn I've been seeing you everywhere I go,” you raise a brow playfully, letting him know how long you’ve been aware of it. He scoffs, waving you off, “Why would I do that? You sure you’re not going crazy?”

“Yeah, maybe… why? Why would you?” You turned his denial into a genuine question. Moony’s rambling filled the air between you two for far too long, his deciding on which answer to give taking much longer than it should. He is teetering on the verge of his response, and you sigh and shake your head.

“Its not honest if it's been this long, I don’t wanna hear it. If it’s something dumb like you like me just say it!” He stopped dead, then his face became one of a man about to get his revenge. “Akright,” he agreed, “yeah. I like you. You’re pretty cool. Way cooler than the others. And youre genuine. You get it?”

You’re stunned, the confession was very obviously genuine. You stammer a moment, trying to say something even you didn’t know what it would be. Moony shouted above your thoughts, however, adding only more confusion, “Oh my god, I TOLD you, (Y/N)! He likes you!” Your face flushes, and your friend giggles at you. Your gaze snaps between an eager to watch Moony and a worried about the response Jax.

You blink, mind finally catching up to you, “Y-you do? I… Would you like to… go on a date?” you tested nervously. Jax’s shoulders dipped in relief, “Yeah. Maybe a day at the fairgrounds.” You nod your agreement, scooting closer to him.

Moony puffed up her metaphorical chest, “My plan totally worked!” You glance at her, a disbeleiving frown playing on your lips, “Oh yeah? Plan?” She grinned, “Yeah, I definitely set this up so you two would confess.” You laughed, “Sure you did, Moony.”

As you spoke, Jax set his hand on yours. You respond by tanging your fingers with his, your heart picking up slightly. You weren’t sure, exactly, how it had happened, but you were positive is wasnt Moony. Either way, you were glad it had.

#the amazing digital circus #tadc #tadc jax #jax #tadc x reader #jax x reader #tadc jax x reader #the amazing digital circus jax

[rallamajoop]

The Complete Guide to Eye Colour In Resident Evil 7

An addendum to my guide to eye colour in RE8: here's everyone from RE7 too! Getting close-ups of these was way harder than for RE8, because RE7 does not come with a model viewer, so I'm stuck using in-game screenshots and promotional images.

Once again, we'll start with the cheat-sheet version:

The whole Baker family: Blue (except when...) Mia: Brown (FOR NOW) Eveline: Green Alan: Hazel/green Deputy OneSceneWonder: Brown Chris: Hazel/brown (FOR NOW) Clancy, Andre and Peter: Brown Ethan: Still hazel

But it can never just be that simple, can it? So, further notes below.

The Baker Family

The Baker family all have blue-grey eyes. In fact, post-infection, they all have the exact same blue eyes (see top line in comparisons below). You could maybe put this down to genetics for Zoe and Lucas, but when Jack and Marguerite have the same eyes as each other too, that's when you start wondering just how many backwater-hillbilly-stereotypes are in play here.

Mind you, they do have slightly different eyes in the pre-mould flashback that is the Daughters DLC, which you can see in the second row above. All are brighter blues, pre-infection, and Jack gets smaller pupils while Lucas gets a slightly larger iris (Zoe gets nothing, as she's the viewpoint PC and we're not redoing her face if you're not going to see it). So maybe we can hope there's some genetic diversity in the Baker-clan (renders of their eyes in their actual faces also look a little more distinct, but maybe that's a lighting thing). Either way, the Bakers = blue eyes! Got it!

And then we meet Uncle Joe in the other DLC who... has hazel eyes?

IDEK, maybe Uncle Joe's real dad was a different mailman.

Once we get deeper into mould-monster territory though, things do get a little more interesting.

Both Marguerite and Lucas appear with much creepier whitened eyes later in the game ‒ Marguerite's during her boss-fight transformation. Lucas, however, remains steadfastly human-shaped throughout the main campaign, but his eyes are whitened in his video message to Ethan, and in his (pre-monstrous transformation) DLC appearances too. Jack, by contrast, doesn't seem to get new eye textures even after blowing off the top of his own head, or in the boss fight that follows (monster!Jack from the fight in the boat house has completely different eyes, of course, and more of them). Mia, too, has her own set of creepy-alternate-mould-monster-eyes, but they're completely different again.

So what's the internal logic here? I could speculate that Lucas' eyes-only transformation is a sign he's in control of himself in a way Jack and Marguerite aren't, but it doesn't quite add up. If anything, those eyes make more sense as something Lucas was given because we never see him transform like Marguerite, or blow pieces of himself away like Jack: Lucas may look human, but the eyes are there to remind us he's not. There'll always be some details that end up being more about effective storytelling than cohesive lore.

Interestingly, though they don't appear in the game, there are also promotional pics of all four members of the Baker family with glowing white/silver eyes, which are definitely a supernatural feature. It's tempting to try and associate the effect with Rose's glowing eyes from the Shadows of Rose DLC, or perhaps even the general pale-grey-eyes of Miranda and the Lords (more on both in my post on eyes in RE8). But that's territory that really needs its own post or we'll be here all day.

Clancy, Andre and Peter

These are the three ill-fated crew of the Sewer Gators tape you'll encounter early in the game. You may notice Peter (rightmost in the pic above) seems to have even more dilated pupils than the majority of the cast. Amusing as it might be to theorise that he's just on drugs or something, I think there is an explanation: the closest shot we see of his face (and the first shot of the tape) is a close-up into a camera while the team is outside in the dark. His pupils would naturally be dilated in this sort of environment.

So why aren't Andre's dilated too? Well, the closest look we get at his eyes (also pictured) are the final shot of the tape, where he's already dead, and his eyes are covered by a red film. Medical plausibility aside, dilated pupils presumably didn't add to the effect here, so Andre gets regular pupils.

Speaking of assets, there is actually one photo of the three of them in the game, from the pamphlet you can find in their van at the start. You can even almost make out Clancy's face!

Clancy's own eyes are their whole own kettle of worms, but we'll get to that below.

Chris Redfield

Is an odd one: I can't share an eye-texture asset for Chris, because he doesn't actually have a character model at all in the main RE7 title. And explaining that one is gonna take some context.

While RE8 renders nearly all cutscenes using in-game models, RE7 stores far more of its major cutscenes pre-rendered in .wmv format. The opening is pre-rendered, video messages from Mia and Lucas are pre-rendered ‒ even the big moment when Eveline blows out the windows of the tanker and throws Mia into the river is pre-rendered. Not all cutscenes work this way, but basically anything that would require loading a lot of assets that aren't needed in gameplay (eg. the view of the river and tanker for outside) seems to have been pre-rendered as a video instead.

And since Chris' only scene in all of RE7 is in the pre-rendered ending sequence, he doesn't have a model at all (or at least, I couldn't find it). We do see Chris in openings and endings of the Not a Hero DLC as well, and the End of Zoe ‒ but these too are just .wmv files, presumably for all the same reasons.

Now, obviously, Chris is also playable in the DLC, so he does have a character model there. But we still don't get eye textures for him for a couple of reasons: firstly, he wears a face-concealing mask that only comes off for opening/ending cutscenes. But even without it, we might just hit other weirdness surrounding player character models...

As I've already noted, both Chris and Mia get completely different new blue eyes in RE8, but back in RE7, Capcom seemed a little more aware that brown or hazel eyes were a real thing regular white people do have sometimes.

A note on player-character models

Although we mostly just see the hands of whoever we're playing as (usually Ethan), gameplay still uses a full-body model, presumably to aid in rendering dynamic shadows, and give enemies something to cover in blood. Things get weird around the character's head, which isn't actually visible so it can't get in the way of the camera floating inside it, but will still cast shadows and still has textures associated with it (though usually in much lower resolution than other models we'll actually get to see). There are three playable characters in RE7 proper: Ethan, Mia, and Clancy (from the video tapes) ‒ each with their own model and textures.

Ethan and Mia also have more detailed 3rd person models, since we see plenty of Mia playing as Ethan, and a little of Ethan playing as Mia (if only from behind).

Why does this matter? Well, distinct as the three PCs are otherwise, their player models all have the same eyes ‒ top row above shows Ethan, Mia and Clancy, in that order. And they look nothing like Ethan's and Mia's eyes have ever looked elsewhere, which you can see in the comparison below.

I mention this mostly because it's pretty easy to find Ethan's player-model in the game files, note those generic-hazel eye textures with it, and go, "hey, you got his eyes wrong!" But these aren't the same eyes that come with his higher-res texture, or the ones that were copied over into RE8. In fact, the existence of the player-character-default-eye-texture back in RE7 is one of the reasons why I do tend to take full-res Ethan's eyes as 'canon', even though we never see them in either game: someone took the time to repaint Ethan's eyes for his full-res model, and make them distinct from the low-res default used for everyone in 1st person mode. That at least suggests there was some real, intentional effort put into deciding what colour eyes Ethan was supposed to have.

This does leave poor Clancy in more ambiguous territory, however: as he's never seen by any other character, he has no high-res model, and thus no eyes but the default-hazel that Mia and Ethan are rendered with in that mode too. So is this to be taken as Clancy's official eye colour? It may as well be, I suppose. We see so little of Clancy in any form that I was genuinely surprised to find out his he's actually got a player model which is completely distinct from anyone else in the game, with curly greying hair, a neckbeard, and a baseball cap worn backwards.

Render by nightsatkendalls over on deviantart.

I do not have the skills to produce a render of this quality myself, but I can tell you that the cap he's wearing has the logo for the RE Engine on the front (the in-house game engine behind all the modern RE titles, and many other Capcom games).

You'll never see it in game, of course ‒ you'd need both a freecam mod and a mod to make his head visible. But it's there as a weird little easter-egg nonetheless.

Eveline

Eveline is perhaps the only character whose model may not have been updated at all for RE8, but given she's only a hallucination or ghost, that stands to reason. In RE7 though, she also appears as her aged 'grandma' self, who pops up around the house in her wheelchair looking spacey. Grandma-Eveline has two different eye texture assets ‒ one far more washed out than the other. There's next to no good official pictures of her, but fortunately, since she doesn't move around or attack you, she was one of the very few characters I was able to get a decent close-up shot off with the free camera mod. And inasmuch as you're ever in a position to look her in the eye in game, only the faded version of her eyes ever seems to show up. Is the clearer version actually used somewhere I didn't catch? I have no idea.

What really stands out about granny-Eveline's eyes, though, is that they don't look anything like her child-self's eyes do. Child-Eveline is basically the only character in either game with distinctly green eyes. But Granny's are hazel, and not even a particularly similar shade of hazel.

In fact, they look far more like the generic-default hazel of the player character textures than they do like her younger self. Close-up comparisons below.

You could speculate that it was deliberate that Granny-Eveline's eyes don't look anything like kid-Eveline's eyes to avoid tipping off the player that they're one and the same ‒ but realistically, no-one without free camera mods is ever going to get a good enough look at either of them to notice. And it's kind of a shame they didn't just take young-Eveline's eyes and apply the same kind of distortions they seem to have applied to the generic-hazel template to age them up ‒ that would've been a lovely, creepy little detail to find in these textures. But no, generic old hazel it is.

Then again, whatever the real logic at play, the fact Granny-Eveline's eyes are effectively a faded, distorted version of the very same eyes the player themselves never does get to see in the mirror is a pretty creepy idea itself. And intentional or not, that's what I've got to leave you with.

#Resident Evil 7 #Resident Evil #Ethan Winters #Mia Winters #Joe Baker #Marguerite Baker #Zoe Baker #Lucas Baker #Eveline #Alan Droney #Clancy Jarvis #Peter Walken #Andre Stickland #RE assets #unused assets #eye colours