#more art eventually. at some point. probably. but no promises

[hound-tooth]

#still in hell #but im not dead #more art eventually. at some point. probably. but no promises #something something prioritising health and school and scrambling to find a way to move out after getting outed and other normal activities #okay bye for another month catch yall later #hugs and kisses etc etc

[murdrdocs]

she’s driving me crazy

description. STILES STILINSKI finally gets another chance with you, and he won’t take it for granted

includes. SMUT 18+, riding, car sex, fem!reader, protective p n v, lots of making out, loser!stiles, awkward stiles, bi!stiles, exes getting back together, slightly manipulative reader, reader has easily malleable hair, reader wears makeup, drinking (but no drunk intercourse), bickering, scott guest appearance

wc. 6k+

a/n: long awaited stiles fic. bestie boo this one's for u. title from confidence by ocean alley. art credits unknown.

Stiles knows he fucked up. 

He had you, after almost a full year of tortuous pining, and he let you slip through his hands. All of it, your relationship with Stiles, really didn’t last more than two months. Two months where date nights were rain checked and eventually canceled. Sleepovers were lackluster, and nothing more than a movie playing in the back while Stiles worked over something that wouldn’t rest in his brain, leaving you alone in the center of his unmade bed. Promises were made, and never kept. It was a mess, a horrible, murky mess of Stiles’ own creation. 

He knows this. But he still allows himself to mourn what could have been. He grieves what was. All while nursing a warm beer that doesn’t sit well in his stomach, mostly because of the sight he has been doomed to acknowledge—also his own doing as he could definitely turn his gaze elsewhere. 

You’re tucked under the arm of some guy who looks nothing like Stiles, and he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. Is that your dream guy? Or are you forcing yourself to branch out and try something that wasn’t him? He tries to resist the spiral that sends him on, and is only able to start crawling out of the self-deprecating and insecurity tunnel through Scott’s voice beside him. 

“What’re you staring at?” 

Scott reeks of alcohol and fruit-flavored syrup. If he wasn’t a werewolf, Stiles knows his best friend would be unable to stand straight by now. But Scott stands like his usual self next to Stiles, a big grin on his face probably from the attention he’s been getting from Kira. (It was sickening for Stiles to watch but he forced himself to be happy for the strong relationship his best friend has.)

Stiles’ immediate instinct is to lie. “Nothing.” He says it a little too fast. He tries to cover his slip up by taking a sip of his beer, but the flavor is unappealing to the point where the face of disgust he presents makes him look more guilty than he really is. 

Scott stares at Stiles, waiting. Stiles knows he won’t lie to Scott, not about something this small anyway, and it is only a matter of a few seconds before Stiles sighs. 

“Look,” he points at you and your suitor. “Don’t you think he’s making her uncomfortable? Look at that. He’s all over her. Probably reeks of Axe body spray.”

It’s then that the guy cracks another joke, your head throwing back in laughter just before you rest your ear against his chest. It’s so affectionate. As if you’ve known this guy for years, and not just mere minutes. 

Stiles flicks his eyes over to Scott, expecting to see his best friend analyzing the situation with at least a small amount of attention that Stiles is. Instead, Scott is looking over at Stiles, wearing what Stiles can only describe as a knowing smirk on his lips. 

Stiles steps back, a little bewildered. “What?” 

Scott, annoyingly, shrugs. He sips his drink, one he has solely for taste as Stiles knows, and only responds once he’s taken a long, slow swallow. 

“She seems fine to me. I thought you guys were broken up anyway.” 

“We are!” 

“Then why do you care so much?” 

Stiles can’t help but petulantly roll his eyes. He turns to face you and your human shaped bag of bricks once again, gesturing for Scott to do the same. His mouth opens, lips parted and tongue ready to spew out the analytics he’d been gathering this entire time in lieu of an excuse. 

Then Scott interrupts. 

“Do you want me to see what’s going on?” Scott throws a finger up towards his ear, one eyebrow lifted as he waits for Stiles to gather the implications and then make a decision. 

It takes Stiles longer to complete the latter than the former. 

He waits, thinks, looks at you and the guy. And then remembers the strict ‘no listening’ rule you all have set in place, the one he most definitely won’t betray in the name of jealousy, even if you aren’t particularly aware of all of the intricacies. 

When he sighs, it’s defeated and with his entire body. He knows he’s pouting, he assumes he resembles his teenage self—mopey and brooding. He doesn’t mean to speak through gritted teeth, but he ends up doing it anyway. 

“No. She’s probably … fine. I guess.” It hurts to admit, deep in Stiles' jealousy-filled gut. Scott’s way of comforting him is by clapping a hand on his shoulder, and telling him that you’re a grown adult who is allowed to make her own decisions, the same as him. 

Scott’s intentions aren’t understood until he points at someone in the opposite direction of you. A guy who, from the looks of it, has been eyeing Stiles for a while. He’s Stiles’ type. Exactly his type, actually, and Scott knows this. 

“Instead of sulking around …” Scott doesn’t need to finish his sentence in order for Stiles to understand. He only lingers for a few seconds, and then is pulled back towards the larger group by Kira’s eyes and grin. 

The guy on the other side of the bar is still watching Stiles. He’s smiling a small but confident smile, like he knows Stiles wants him as much as he wants Stiles. He tilts his head in a beckon, and Stiles is close to letting the guy pull him over there. Until he sees you step away from the man, smile dismissively up to him, and start towards Stiles instead. 

Instantly, it’s like a flip has been switched. 

He starts to feel the effects of the alcohol, even though he’d been nursing the same bottle the entire night. Still, he chooses to attribute the buzz flowing throughout his body to the overpriced beer and not excitement of finally having your attention. 

He watches your path, trying not to feel too disappointed as he takes notice of the way you’re struggling to walk in a straight line. 

You fall into his arms in a fit of giggles. Your head resting on his chest, your hands circling around his back. 

“Stiles,” you sing, long and drawn out and definitely drunk.  

He repeats your name in the same tune, placing his drink onto a tabletop next to him and abandoning it for good. Keeping you away from self destruction is his new main priority. 

You slump against him even more, turning yourself around and leaning back against his body. Your position leaves Stiles with nothing else to do other than stand stiffly. He knows that if you were sober, you wouldn’t be nearly as affectionate as you are now. He ignores the way your ass brushes against his crotch. He ignores the smell of your perfume wafting up to him, a scent he had the privilege of seeing you apply a few times before when you were dating. (The image of you getting ready for the day, lathering yourself in the oils and lotions and scents that worked to create your unique scent will never leave his brain, for better or for worse.)

He does his best to remain unaffected, but then you tilt your head up, the crown of your hair rubbing against Stiles’ shirt as you look at him. As soon as he glances down, he sees you pouting, clearly over exaggerated but it’s a look he, pathetically, will never be able to resist. 

“Why won’t you touch me?” You manage to sound pitiful, as if you had lost every single thing you hold dear to your heart in the last couple of minutes. 

In his response, he tries to remain neutral. Drunk or not, you know the game you’re playing, and Stiles foolishly believes that his knowledge of the ploy makes him insusceptible. 

“Because you’re drunk,” he platonically rests his hands on your shoulders and encourages you off of him. “And we aren’t together anymore.” 

You turn around to face him, grinning up at him like the cat with the canary as you tell him, “it didn’t stop us last time, right?”

That, and the way you almost throw yourself at some guy walking past, is enough reason for Stiles to link his hand in yours and pull you towards the others. Scott stares down at your interlinked palms for only a moment before Stiles explains his plan, which entails getting you back to your apartment before you do something you could regret. 

This isn’t an excuse for Stiles to continue hanging out with you. He makes sure he clarifies that to himself and his best friend before he’s pulling you out of the bar and towards his Jeep.

You’re both less than ten steps away from the entrance to the bar when you suddenly have your lips pressed to Stiles’. 

There is a moment where Stiles fails to resist. Where he reciprocates quicker than his brain can realize, acting on pure instinct and muscle memory instead of logic. He is unable to stop himself from getting comfortable, from linking this kiss to the last one he’d received from you. Hotter and messier than this one. (Lost in his appreciation to finally be kissing you again, Stiles fails to notice how you don’t taste like alcohol at all)

Only a few more seconds pass before Stiles reminds himself that you’re drunk, and that this is wrong. When he pulls away from your lips—regretfully, that is—he’s tempted into staying by the slight stickiness of your lipgloss and the almost-disgusting string of saliva that briefly keeps you two sewn together. 

You try to lean back in, but Stiles stops you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’re drunk,” he reminds you. 

You’re fixing him with a look, one that feels strong and weirdly sober. His suspicions have more proof to back them up when you say his name with the same matter-of-fact tone he had just used on you. 

“I’m not drunk.” 

He scrunches his eyebrows together, the muscles in his face mimicking the movement as well. His lips part as he nonverbally exclaims his confusion. He lifts one of his hands from your shoulder to hook his thumb towards the bar entrance. He looks around, for nothing or no one in particular, but as if the night will have an explanation that you would surely be willing to provide if he asks. 

He didn’t even need to ask before you provide an explanation. It’s cut and dry, matter-of-fact, spoken like it is the most casual thing in the world. 

“I faked being drunk so you could take me home.” 

Stiles knows what you mean. He’s not dumb. But he surely does feel it when he says, “If you didn’t feel well you could’ve just told Lydia. She would’ve taken you back to yours.” 

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t wanna sleep with me, that’s fine. Just let me know before I waste my time.” 

Stiles should stand up for himself. He should reprimand your attitude, and exclaim how unnecessary it was. Instead, he flounders and almost falls to your feet with the speed he clarifies himself. 

“No. I do wanna sleep with you. Like, really bad. But … um … well,” you lift your eyebrows and Stiles clears his throat. “How many fingers am I holding up.” 

“Jesus, fuck, Stiles.” He continues holding up his first three fingers on his right hand until you answer. “Three.” 

You lean in but Stiles takes a step back. And then another. And then another, until he’s standing against the wall of the bar and you’re standing at the edge of the sidewalk. 

“Walk in a straight line towards me.” 

You don’t seem happy about it, but you place one foot in front of the other over and over again until you’re in front of Stiles. Nothing more has to be said before Stiles places his hands on your hips, pulls you flush to him, and finally allows himself to kiss you. 

It’s been a while since Stiles had the privilege of kissing you. The last time, just a month ago, didn’t count in his mind. Sure, he remembered nearly every detail, but your shared inebriated state at the time overruled any legitimacy the encounter could have held. Now, it only acts as a reminder and motivator for Stiles to enjoy every moment of this that he can. 

Eventually, it would be smart, and preferable, to leave the outside of the bar and actually take you home where you two could be alone. But for now, Stiles presses his hands into the middle of your back as a way to pull you as close to him as possible. He has his legs spread, creating space for your limbs to stagger. Your hands rest on his shoulders, then at the back of his neck, then in his hair. Both of you are attempting to get as close to the other as possible, all while engaging in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever had. You both kissed cleaner when you were drunk. 

Now, outside this bar with your closest friends inside, and with nothing but the night (and the bouncer) as witness, you submit to the other. There is a level of appreciation in the way your lips slide together. There is a level of gratitude in the presses of your tongues against each other. There is an exorbitant amount of longing that is solved each time you jerk your hips into Stiles and each time he reciprocates. 

You thread your hands through Stiles’ hair the same time that he slides his hands down to your ass and squeezes, pulling you as close to him as possible and rubbing his thigh against the center seam of your jeans. You both groan into each other's mouths—Stiles from the way you tug just right on his hair, and you from the feeling of his leg between yours. 

Sensing—knowing that he did something right, something good, Stiles does it again. And again. And again. The steady slide of his thigh between your legs does the job. You let your head fall, leaning the top of it against Stiles’ chest just right under his sternum. 

The sound of you moaning Stiles’ name goes straight to his dick, with a few remnants traveling to his head, leaving him dizzy and with a steady growing semi. His actions make you grip his hair stronger. His actions indirectly cause pleasure for him, too. 

It all disappears when the sound of spitting—loud and boisterous, almost cartoonish—breaks up the moment. Stiles stops his movements. He lays his hands flat on the back pockets of your jeans as he turns his head to the side. 

The eyes of the bouncer meet Stiles and Stiles’ ears burn. 

While the bouncer doesn’t say anything to him, Stiles knows the message he’s trying to communicate. 

Get the fuck out of here. 

Stiles is forced to push you back by hooking his fingers in your belt loops. He’s still touching you, at least an extension of you, but then your hands drop to your sides and Stiles can feel his body crying out for you. The same way his body calls out for vital needs—food, water, sleep, entertainment. He squashes his emotions for a second, plasters on a—truthfully sympathetic—face, one that comes off more as a tight lipped smile than anything else. 

“Sorry, man. You — uh. You have a goodnight.” He throws a hand up to the bouncer, hoping it is received as friendly. When the bouncer returns the gesture, still with that same look in his eyes, Stiles heads down the street and pulls you with him. 

The walk to the car is tortuous. His boner keeps rubbing against his jeans, leaving him to stop every few paces, face away from the street, and try to adjust himself. After the third time, you were voicing your frustration, claiming that it was taking forever to reach the car because of Stiles’ worry about who could see his erection. He tries things your way, ignoring the way his dick calls for his attention and instead focusing all of his attention on you. 

The way your hips sway in your tight jeans. The way the wind blows your perfume to him and lifts the edge of your shirt in one, giving Stiles a peek of your skin. It’s such a small look, nothing more than a glimpse, and Stiles feels like a Victorian man the way he’s having to bite his fist at the next crosswalk to avoid groaning. The street lights illuminate your face in just the right ways, highlighting your makeup in an unnaturally ethereal way. Everything about you is driving Stiles crazy. There’s no way he’s going to make it to your house. If he doesn’t get to his car soon, he might pull you into the next bar bathroom that he could find just for a semblance of privacy. 

If he could just get to his Jeep. 

It’s then that Stiles realizes he’s been walking for far too long. He stops in the center of the sidewalk. You stop right beside him. 

Stiles doesn’t say anything as he turns around and leads you three blocks down the street, one street over, and then into the parking garage elevator. 

The way you’re grinning at him alerts Stiles of the words soon to come out of your mouth, definitely words that would be at his expense. He stops you while you’re ahead. 

It’s nice to have the position switched. Your back against the wall instead of his. His hands are still on your hips, but he uses them to push you into the metal instead of pulling you into him. You have that part covered, your arms once more thrown over his shoulders, pressed into the back of his neck and head, drawing him in until the pressure of his lips against yours is a little painful. 

In the rush neither of you have pushed the button, leaving the elevator stagnant on the ground floor. Stiles notices at the same time that you scratch his scalp. He moans, he really can’t help it. His mouth opens as you purse your lips again, and he feels a little bad but you aren’t deterred. In fact, you do it again, your nails scratching in just the right spot and Stiles feels like an animal the way he shudders and keens. 

He’s more human when he admits, “Missed this.” He presses his lips to yours again, pulling back with a smack. “Missed you.” 

Your lips slide against his with what Stiles can only describe as desperation. Pure, unadulterated desperation and desire. You’re breathing a little heavy, deep exhales through your nose and inhales in the in between moments, and it doesn’t turn Stiles off at all. He wants more of you. He takes more of you. 

He doesn’t know how long you two are in there, but it is eventually you who pulls back first, your lips visibly swollen and lacking any of the makeup that was previously on it. 

“Has the elevator been moving at all?” You could check for yourself. Just one look over Stiles’ shoulder and you could see that the small screen still displayed a digital ‘1’. Yet, you’re looking up at him instead. Like Stiles is the most important thing in the elevator. Like he’s the most important thing in the world to you. (Maybe it’s Stiles’ delusion talking, but he chooses to believe it either way)

Still, Stiles looks over his shoulder, confirms that he hadn’t hit the button at all, and leans back to correct his mistakes. 

The elevator beeps twice, bringing you both to the third floor, and as much as Stiles’ wants to continue standing there and just admire you, he can hear the door daring to slide close. Again, he pulls you out behind him. 

As soon as he turns the corner, Stiles is immediately made aware of the lack of other cars on the level. It’s a little eerie, and if he wasn’t about to get his dick wet he would possibly be on the lookout for potential threats that could turn one of the best moments of his life into another inconvenience. 

Your hands are on his shoulders, his back, his arms, as you hold onto him. 

“Why did you park all alone? Did you plan this? Were you trying to get in my pants all night?” 

Stiles digs into the front pocket of his jeans and searches for his keys. “No. There were other people parked here earlier. They’re just all gone now.” 

You hum unconvincingly. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Stiles.” 

As soon as Stiles has the passenger door unlocked, he holds the door open for you and stares, hoping the annoyance is overpowering every other feeling he’s currently having towards you. 

“In the back,” he tells you. You smile up at him, big and entertained, and then do as he says. 

He climbs in right behind you. At this point in the night, there was no point in attempting to get back to your apartment or his. Stiles couldn’t wait much longer, and you two are no stranger to the back of his Jeep. You’ve been in this situation before. 

It’s all completely effortless. You’re already in the process of slipping your jeans off whenever Stiles has the door closed. He mourns for just a second, pouting to himself over not being the one to take those sinful jeans off of you. But then you climb over his lap, situating yourself to hover just a bit above him. 

Stiles plants his hands on your hips, just like he did before, and pulls you to sit right over him, just like you have before. He knows that the status of your relationship has changed since the last time he had the privilege of being in this space with you like this, but that doesn’t mean the way you do things has to change, too. 

You were never shy before. You would always be quick to attach yourself to Stiles in whatever ways you could, just like you had been doing just a little earlier into the night. But that’s gone now. Now, you’re staring at him, your teeth pressed into your bottom lip. 

Before you were together for a short time, Stiles had spent months pining. Months analyzing whatever he could about you. Months mentally cataloging your tells. And now, he calls on that information to declare that you’re hesitant. You’re nervous. No, not just nervous. You’re worried. Almost regretful. 

He tilts his head. “What’s wrong?” 

You shrug but Stiles knows you’re aware of what has you like this. He just gives you the time to voice it. 

Eventually, you say: “Will this change anything between us?” 

It’s his turn to shrug. “I dunno. Do you want anything to change?” 

You shrug again. 

“Well … do you want to keep going? And we decide that afterwards?” Stiles really wants to fuck you, but deep down he knows that if you stopped and got up off of him in this moment, he would be okay with it. Well, he would be okay with it after a few days. Maybe a week or two. 

A little part in him swells, jumps, and clicks its heels when you nod. 

“Yeah. That sounds good.” You press your lips to his once. 

“You just tell me when you decide, okay? I’m cool with whatever you’re cool with.” And Stiles means that. If he gets just one more time with you, if this is his final time with you, he would cut his losses and be grateful for the time that he was allowed. What else was he supposed to do? He would never dream of doing anything that could jeopardize his spot in your life. 

Stiles can feel the warmth of your center is his hand when he trails his touch down. He cups your mound and his eyes flutter shut. He feels like a pervert for only a second before you start to work your lips down his neck and rock your hips into his hand. The way your mouth suctions around his favorite spot almost has him distracted enough to not notice your hands working on his pants. Almost. 

He can’t really tell in the dark, but he can slightly feel your once confident movements start to falter. You stop on his neck, keeping your lips as nothing but a pucker against his skin before you pull away completely to look down between the two of you. 

“When the fuck did you start wearing a belt?” 

Stiles doesn’t want to tell you the truth, he feels like it would be too embarrassing. Really, he knows it wouldn’t, but something about having to tell you that he decided to wear a belt because you always said he should makes him feel a little meek. So instead of filling the silence with the truth, he fills the silence with the clinks of his belt buckle as he undos it himself. 

“Recently,” is all he tells you when you’re still staring at him for a response. Somehow, it’s enough for you and your hands are back on his waistband. 

In record speed, your hands are down the elastic of his boxers and wrapping around Stiles’ cock. He doesn’t hiss, but he does shudder. He tries to hide it by pretending that the car is cold, which it was beforehand, but now it’s warm. It becomes warmer when you spit in your hand, wrap it around Stiles’ cock and pump him a few times, and then push your underwear to the side and hover above him. 

It really pains Stiles to stop you, but he does. He asks if you have a condom, then he asks if you want to use a condom, and the entire time he’s kicking himself. Because he can feel the warmth radiating. He has his tip already nudged between your folds, and just this small touch is already making him lose it. His nails are digging into your hips, he’s breathing harder than he was before, and he has to blink a few times to really focus on you. 

It feels like Stiles blinks and suddenly you’re tearing the foil packet open and slipping the condom over him. He watches it go down as best as he can, and the light doesn’t reveal much. Just the bottom of you and the tip of him is visible, the rest Stiles is forced to make out through squints and memorization. 

He’s just briefly dejected about the lack of visuals, but then your hands rest on his shoulders and he hears you take a breath and he knows it’s time. 

Stiles rests his hands on your side and looks up at you. 

You go down slowly. Softly. It allows Stiles to feel each delicious inch as they go by, revealing more and more of the inside of you as time passes. He battles between watching your face and simply basking in it. Eventually, he settles on the former. 

Your eyebrows are tightened just enough to show your discomfort. You have your lips parted, long breaths leaving them every so often, usually right before you sink down again. And Stiles has seen you take him before. He knows that you have been able to take him faster than this before. And then he wonders: is this your first time doing this, with anyone, in a while? Have you been as lost without him as he has been without you? Have you even attempted to fill that hole, and was your stunt earlier tonight just that: a stunt?

There isn’t time for him to ponder over his questions like he would have wanted to whenever you bottom out. It’s with a sigh, the back of your thighs meeting the top of his just briefly. 

You rest your forehead against his, and you both breathe together. Or, it’s more so you breathing and Stiles matching the pattern. 

You lean up, you move your hair out of your face, and you tell him, “Don’t remember it being this hard.” 

Slightly cocky, Stiles tilts his head.  At first he doesn’t say anything. He smiles, his eyes are heavy when they look you up and down, and then he rubs your back. “Take your time.” 

You take the time you need and then you start moving. Up and down. Up and down. Agonizingly slowly at first, and then faster when you get more comfortable. 

This is what Stiles has needed. This is what he has been missing in his life. You’re like a drug for him, and one hit seems like enough at the time, but by the time this is all over he knows he’s going to be searching for more. He’ll do anything he has to, so long as it gets him in a spot similar to this again. 

He searches for your hand, refusing to look away from the way your body moves atop of him for even a second. You help him out, bringing your hand to his, pressing the fingertips together, leaving Stiles to interlock them. He lifts your hands, looking at them in the white light that enters the foggy window. Somehow, this image is even more captivating. There is a more pornographic way the two of you are connected, one that demands Stiles’ attention. There is something about the innocence of this. He’s doing nothing but holding your hand, and Stiles feels like he might either lose his mind, or cum too quickly. 

He might do both. One after the other. 

You sink down on him again, a little awkwardly this time, but it does it for you. You hit a spot that makes your mouth widen and your eyes flutter shut. You search for it, and find it miraculously. Your head throws back as you hit that spot over and over again, pleasing yourself on Stiles’ dick. The image is heavenly for him. It’s euphoric. 

He lets his eyes wander down your neck, along your clavicle, and your shirt reveals just a bit of your bust but it’s not enough. With his free hand, he pulls the rest of the fabric down, and when he sees that you’re not wearing a bra, he almost cums into the condom then and there. He doesn’t wonder how he hadn’t noticed, he doesn't consider how he hadn’t taken into account the natural shape of your breasts pushing through the fabric, almost reaching out to him. Instead, he leans forward, presses his hand into the curve of your back, and attaches his mouth to the untouched skin. 

Your free hand sinks into Stiles’ hair. Your fingers weave through the back of his hair first, and then you make your way up to the front, pushing back his bangs blindly. 

Stiles peers up at you from his spot around your nipples. You’re still in ecstasy—your head now level once more, but your mouth still open and your eyes still closed. 

He detaches from your nipple to tell you: “Look at me.” 

It fuels Stiles’ ego when you do as told quickly. 

You’re looking at him on his command yet Stiles feels like he’s the one entranced. Because of your eyes. Fuck, your eyes. Watery, lazy, but your pupils are dilated. Your mascara has transferred to under your eyes by now, and it’s smudged a bit, making you look completely fucked out. Stiles thinks some of your makeup along your face has disappeared too, but it allows for a fresh skinned appearance instead. 

Really, there is nothing else for him to do except kiss you. It’s so messy but so good. You flatter in your movements on his cock, but Stiles feels absolutely no remorse when he takes over. 

He unlocks your hands and plants them both on your hips again. This time, he uses the leverage to pull you down on him again and again. He lets you lead the kiss, while he leads this. 

Your hands land on the leather of the seat behind Stiles' back and the foggy glass pane of the window. He hears your fingertips glide down the surface as he starts to fuck you harder, and then the sound is combined with your moans when your lips separate from Stiles’. 

You call his name, low and breathy. 

He hums. 

“‘m so close. Keep going. Just like that.” He nods. Then you add, “Little faster.” And he does as told. 

Your forehead pressed against his, the sweat on both of your skin making your heads glide more than anticipated. It doesn’t deter either of you. When your nose bumps against Stiles’, he kisses you again. When your head becomes too heavy for you to hold it up, he presses his thumb under your jaw, rests his fingers on the side of your neck, and holds the weight for you. 

“You’re so pretty,” he tells you, adding your name at the end to seal the deal. “Baby,” he says, and his heart swells when you hum in response. So he says it again. “Baby, you feel so good. Feel so good, babe.” 

He doesn’t know what more he says. He can vaguely recognize his lips forming the words and his own voice in his ears calling you the prettiest girl ever, telling you that he could never get this anywhere else, telling you he never wanted to get this from anywhere else.��

“Needed this so bad. I needed you so bad. I’ve missed you.” And just as his words finish, yours begin. 

“Stiles, Stiles. Right there. ‘m … I’m…!” 

He singles two fingers out, slips them between your thighs, and rubs along your clit until you’re shaking above him and holding onto his wrist between your bodies. He doesn’t know if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away, but watching you cum is too gorgeous for him to ever dream of making it stop. 

So he doesn’t. 

Not even when your eyes start to leak and your lips start to plead and you contract around him. 

“One more,” he asks. “I just need to see it one more time. Please.” 

The sound of him moving in and out of you is loud. He drifts his eyes down to watch it happen, groaning when he just barely sees a broken ring of white glinting in the fluorescents from the parking garage. 

It feels a little romantic when you cum and then Stiles follows right after. 

The Jeep is warm, the windows are foggy, and there’s an ache in Stiles’ thighs. He knows for every one of his aches, you have three. The condom has been removed, tied, and disposed of in an old paper bag Stiles had sitting on the floor of his car. His pants are pulled back up, but his belt is still undone. His shirt sticks to his skin and he really needs greasy food and a shower. 

But if that means leaving this moment, and never returning to it, he could put off his needs and wants for an eternity. 

You’re sitting next to him, redressed with the button of your jeans still undone. You’re staring straight ahead, trying to catch your breath as you rub the muscles in your thighs. 

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he licks his lips and he says, “Uh … do you … um. Would you like some … ice or something? For your legs?” 

You smile ahead, turn to face him, and shake your head. “It’ll be fine. Nothing a shower and good sleep won’t fix.” You pause. “And maybe some food.” 

Which is how Stiles ends up sitting in your bed, sipping the remnants of his Dr. Pepper as he watches you lather lotion on your legs with your towel still hanging off of your body. 

“Your food’s cold,” he tells you. He doesn’t tell you about the handful of fries he stole earlier, but he knows you’ll notice it and hold the grudge for later. 

Later. Will there be a ‘later’? 

“Be there in a second.” You start to walk back to the bathroom. “Should we go to that place in the morning? Or …” you look at your clock and wince at the time. “Later. The one with the really good pancakes?” 

Stiles is quick to agree. He would love to do something with you later. 

#stilesworld! #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinski x you #stiles stilinski smut #celeste writes misc

[littlemoondarlingarts]

Did an artstyle study of the gorgeous art of @iliothermia and I genuinely learned alot so I'm very thankful that he gave me permission to do this 🙏🏻🙏🏻

As usual, rambles and process pics under the cut, be warned that I talk alot because this drawing was a true labor of love both for his art and Rouge

I wanted to use elements from his art but at the same time i know how deeply personal his art is to his own life and struggles and culture so i tried to be as respectful as possible (and if I failed at that please tell me I have no problem in deleting this) and tried to minimize my use of direct elements from his art to keep it to the skull which was heavily inspired by a drawing he has done, the waves which are such a beautiful staple of his art that I just couldn't not put it and the use of candles and small floral patterns and the style of the mold, but I tried to keep the rest to things that are symbolic to the character.

While he may have restraint to not explain everything, I'm not famous for that lol, so I will be explaining the symbolism behind my choices.

Part 1: the symbolism:

The red rose is Rouge's flower and it is heavily associated with him. The meaning of it being romantic desire and passion mixed with the thorns of it perfectly sum up his position as a beautiful black widow.

Voyeurism is a big part of this drawing and it is first noticed with the eyes motif on the roses' leaves, this symbolises his response to his trauma which left him feeling like an unwanted pervert on his own self. I can talk about this aspect of his story for hours but I'll spare you lol.

The X-ray cutouts are his complicated relationship with his own body and death, it is a thing that is constantly on his mind as he suffers from suicidal thoughts but at the same time he is always running away from it in fear, but he knows that eventually, he will have to stop running.

The candles melting represent him being only wanted when he is useful, when he is giving parts of himself up for others to use and abuse, when he is lighting their lives by slowly draining his own.

The piano is one of the rare things that bring him happiness and peace, but he needs to be heavily dissociated to be able to enjoy it which is represented by the hands being disconnected from the rest of the drawing and just floating in their own reality.

The snake represents two things, one is him being venomous to those around him, the mistakes he's made, the promises he's broken, the pain he's caused etc. But it also represents those who slowly wrap themselves around him in a warm embrace, presenting themselves as a saviour in his most dire times only to end up being the ones who will hurt him the most.

The book is about his obsession with keeping track of everything and of studying people, accidentally turning himself into an unwanted voyeur on their lives to the point where he has written the life stories of many people who would never want to be remembered through his eyes in his little books.

The butterflies are him, both in the way they are seen as "the good insects" and the beautiful delicate ones despite the fact that they eat flesh sometimes, it is also related to the way his simple presence for a few minutes in someone's life can create a whirlwind of change that will leave it unrecognizable, or he can simply be another body in their bed.

The hair turning into waves is meant to reflect the way he is always drowning in his own thoughts, a hand crafted constant state of misery.

The beta fish are some of the most beautiful and colourful fish out there, yet they are seen as cheap and easy first pets, leading to them being neglected and given environments that are too small and crammed, making their beautifully slow death the only thing they can offer to their owner. I don't think I need to explain more..

The skull is probably someone he's loved, or someone he's killed, or both.

The heart is his, it is rotten and covered in mold, any love he offers is tainted by his inability to heal and it is spreading to infect every aspect of his life.

Part 2: the inspirations:

The roses are a homage to the way Rachamim always places flowers in his art, either in the background or as a focal point of the illustration, most of the flowers he uses are cultural in nature, so I opted to not reuse any of them and changed it to a flower related to my oc.

Eyes are a repeated theme in his art, whether it be angel eyes, the evil eye or anything else, and as you can tell both of these are cultural and religious and while the evil eye exists in my culture, it does not in my oc's so I didn't use it. Instead I opted to pay homage to one of his beautiful merman drawings in which he used the plants to make an eye-like shape that stares at the viewer.

I thought I was being real smart in turning the hair into waves but yesterday I saw an illustration where he did the same so rip to me thinking i was being original lol.

The snake and butterflies are my way of replicating his use of animals while trying to not directly copy any animals that have a connection to himself or his culture/religion.

The beta fish is just to reference the ever present fishies in his art. I know he uses them because they represent friendship for him and they are the only animals safe from the evil eye (thanks for the fun fact) so I uh... I don't really know if this was disrespectful or not to be honest but I tried to use a different type of fish, idk this might still be slightly problematic and again I'm always ready to delete this if it makes anyone uncomfortable.

The waves are a direct copy of how he draws the gorgeous waves in his art, another case of something I fear may be crossing the line because the waves are drawn in the style of cultural jewelry 😭

The tiny flowers are an obvious reference to his own tiny flowers that decorate his art and characters.

The skull with the candles is heavily inspired by a specific drawing of his.

The cutouts are my way of paying my respects to my absolute favourite piece of art he's done without directly copying its concept because as far as I can tell, it is a very personal and emotional piece.

The mold style is a reference to his mold man (I forgot his name I'm sorry).

And the candles are another repeated motif in his art as well as the pillars and the pant style.

And ouf I sure do talk alot don't I? I just really love the amount of things I was able to cram into this piece and I haven't even mentioned everything😭😭 I will NOT be doing this again because I'm simply not as patient as he is and as proud as I am of the result, this was torture. I hope I didn't disrespect him, his art or his culture and I genuinely tried my best to be as respectful as possible but I might have some blind spots due to our experiences being so vastly different so again, please don't hesitate to inform me if you want this deleted!

#my art #art #artists on tumblr #oc #my oc #rouge #original characters #oc artist #oc artwork #oc art #lineart illustration #artsyle study #art style study #art study #idk how to tag this #anyway #hii #ty for reading #i hope you like it

[the-s1lly-corner]

I don’t exactly know if I’m wording this right but would you mind doing TADC x png reader? Like instead of being 3D like everyone else they’re just kinda like a 2D image

TADC cast x PNG!reader!

Cant sleep so imma answer a few more requests!!! YIPEE!! I got to draw some TADC art tonight !! Dont like the sketch so I think I might post it on main when its complete...

Little self ramble aside! I hope you enjoy this op!

Written on mobile ♡

CAINE:

Honestly I can see caine making special IHAs that utilize different circus members unique digital abilities. Zoobles dismemberment thing, I like to think pomni has clown physics (as well as kaufmo!), and now you with your 2d self!

Though... I think more often than not it can lead to you possibly getting stuck somewhere... oops... he doesnt mean any harm, I promise!

POMNI:

Probably loses track of you if you turn, leads to her trying to call out for you only to be jumpscared by you turning to look at her

Eventually though she does kind of. Get used to it, at least the jumpscaring doesnt phase her anymore!

I think similar to zooble she would help you out of sticky situations

JAX:

This. Asshole. He would immediately pretend you're not in the room the second you turn 90 degrees. Will literally stop mid sentence

Mid SYLLABLE

Like he knows you're still there, hes just fucking with you

Has probably tried to see if a fan will send you flying. Like paper

Ngl this prompt is making me think ab teri from TAWOG

I need to watch TAWOG

RAGATHA:

makes it a point to keep the conversation going and include you unlike SOMEONE (glares at jax)

Always makes outwardly greets you to see if you're in the room (ie calling for you to get you to turn, ect ect ect)

Would not hesitate to help you if you got stuck somewhere somehow

Makes sure you dont get left behind in stuff

KINGER:

You know how in pomnis part I mention her losing you and getting spooked when you suddenly reappear? Given that he gets startled by gangle, when she hasnt done anything or left? I think kinger would be the same in that regard, but like. Worse. If that makes sense. Please dont sneak up on him, hes already at his wits end as it is, he doesnt need to worry about when hes going to get surprised again <\3

ZOOBLE:

Honestly I can see both of you getting along great! Unconventional digital body duo! Dismemberment mismatch body with body that literally becomes "invisible" if you turn.... do you think you've slipped through thin cracks before? Or just gaps in general?

Hey maybe if zoobles around theyd help fish you out!

GANGLE:

Kind of similar too, since ribbons are thin and flat; gangles ribbons are just curled to give her structure but they are still just ribbon.. she joins you and zooble in the unconventional digital body club

2d body, fall apart mismatch body, ribbon body

Silly club for you three

You guys both get stuck in the ground after slipping through a crack, gangles mask is the only thing visible since it couldnt fit/j

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #jax x reader #ragatha x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

[billie-black]

Thread of odd connections between Ikora, Elsie and Eris

I was scrolling through concept art when I noticed that, despite not being so in-game, The Stranger's rifle is Branded as a Cassoid weapon. This wouldn't mean much, bungie tends to use decals at random, except-

The curse of osiris variant, The Machina Dei 4, is also branded with a slightly altered version of the Cassoid logo, which I think proves that it has been upgraded with components from the foundry.

But let's put a pin on that and talk about another Cassoid weapon, The Invective shotgun, Ikora's signature weapon. The Invective has an ornament called Iconoclast, a word which here means "Destroyer of images used in religious worship." This nomenclature is very similar to-

The Vex Mythoclast, a weapon which, thanks to its sister weapon, The Worldline Zero (which coincidentally also has a prophecy variant), we know to be made by Elsie Bray. Canonically, we earn the Mythoclast as part of-

the "Not forged in light" quest, which ends with Elsie gifting us the No time to explain. A weapon which eventually ends back up in her hands and she gifts to us again earlier in the timeline as-

The stranger's rifle, which hangs around until it becomes the Machina Dei 4 (later Adhortative). And the prophecy attached to the Machina Dei 4 desribes Eris Morn and the events of Shadowkeep, when Eris discovers stasis and starts using the darkness.

A charnel but effulgent orb.

beacon in a loathsome dark.

Fêted, fetid corpses rise.

a too-long-absent gibbous spark.

Now, it's generally accepted that No time to explain (and all it's variants by proxy) was created at some future point in a distant timeline, this is incorrect. Ghost specifically points out that "parts" of it shouldn't exist, because the rifle itself is a common suros frame.

Going back to The Invective, you're probably more familiar with its legendary sister, The Comedian, and its D2 counterpart, Deadpan Delivery. The Comedian's flavor text reads "A. A ha. A ha ha ha. A ha ha ha ha ha ha ha" In D1 the joke wasn't really clear, but with the addition of a lore tab in D2, the joke has become the vanguard's falling victim to a hive god's deceit. Now, let's take a little trip to The dark future.

In The dark future, Beyond light never happened, Eramis was allowed to grow her armies and master stasis, which led to a massive attack on the city by Cabal remnants, Savathûn, and the glorious House Salvation, all masterminded by Eris Morn, who up to that point was believed to be an ally, but had been corrupted by stasis and the darkness.

Coming back to our timeline, let's look at differences between our case exotics and their variants. Elsie's rifle has undergone many more modifications than Invective. Matter of fact, Invective has barely undergone any changes from its default. It's painted red, AND It has tape wrapped the handle and the grip, just like No time to explain. (I know I'm talking about grip tape right now but please don't go, it gets better, I promise)

It's a weak link, many weapons have grip tape, but I think many of these small details add up and point to The Iconoclast being one of Elsie's gifts. Let's review the similarities between Iconoclast and other gifts from Elsie.

>It's sourced from one of the city foundries and later received Cassoid upgrades (Invective and it's variants are nadir products)

>It has grip tape where the original does not.

>Mythoclast and Iconoclast are very similar terms and could point to a connection.

>It has a perpetual ammo function, like No time to explain and The Mythoclast.

But we should also look at Iconoclast within it's own context. Invective being her weapon, what does it mean for Ikora? She's never been been known to combat or really oppose any sort of religion, at least that I can find. And let's make it clear, the gun is not the Iconoclast. Just like the Mythoclast is not The Mythoclast. The weapons, in this case, are named for the wielder. You kill Atheon and so you become the Mythoclast, the gun is more of symbol. So, what religious figure is Ikora supposed to kill in order to become the Iconoclast?

Well, just this season, the hive have come out with a brand spanking new god, one very close to Ikora. Now I don't think Ikora is going to kill Eris. Eris would need to do something completely heinous for her to even consider that. Like, idk, bombarding the last city with House Salvation and the shadow legion... i. e., what happens in the dark timeline.

Look, I really don't believe Eris is going to turn evil all the sudden, that would be character assasination of the highest magnitude. But from Ikora's point of view? She has a supposed time traveller yelling at her that she's letting everything go sideways.

So my theory is that Elsie took Ikora's Invective from some other failed timeline (possibly the one where they smooch) and gave it to Ikora as the Iconoclast, along with the idea that alternate Ikora ruined everything because she failed to act and put Eris down when she could.

And this is where Deadpan Delivery comes in. You see, Ikora doesn't use invective anymore, and she doesn't use the Comedian. She exclusively wields Deadpan Delivery. Now, I know this was probably just the animators being faithful to her character, seeing how she prefers shotguns-

But the retroactive additions to the Comedian's lore, outside my crazed theories, implies a statement from Ikora. The Comedian's joke is the vanguard falling victim to a hive god's deceit, and in the dark timeline that god, the Savathûn figure, is Eris morn. And so-

By maining Deadpan delivery Ikora is subtextually saying "It's not funny. I'm not laughing. I don't subscribe to the narrative put forward by the comedian or Elsie. I trust Eris". And by rejecting the Comedian she's additionally disavowing it's older sister, The Invective, which is a symbol of the gung ho attitude which defined her in her youth. And wether my Iconoclast theory is correct or not, we can definitively say: Ikora is against what it represents , she is a guardian, and she will make a new fate no matter what.

#eris morn #ikora rey #elsie bray #destiny 2 #season of the witch #ikoris #ikora/eris

[obsessivevoidkitten]

The Royal Blood Pt. 2

Male Yandere Vampire x Gender Neutral Vampire Reader (CW: Dub-con, vampires, vampirism, blood, blood drinking, minor character death, general yandere behavior, marriage, oral sex, smut.) Word Count: 2.1k (Sorry if this is not as good as part one, I still tried to make it nice, I hope everyone enjoys. I know I kinda rushed writing it and it may not be my best work. Art of Ericke made by the ever amazing @reiyn02​) Part 1 can be found here: The Royal Blood Pt. 1  

  It had been months since Prince Ericke had turned you into a fellow vampire. You had been traumatized by your sudden transformation, dark cravings, and the death of Owen, who had been your only friend. You became more quiet and withdrawn at his loss.  You had tried to go without blood a couple different times but each time it turned you near feral and all Ericke had to do once you got to that point was hold a chalice of blood up to your lips and you instinctively swallowed down every drop, unable to prevent yourself from giving in. You hated being a monster.  And you desperately wanted to hate Ericke just as much, if not more, but as much as you tried you could not help but feel the torturous flutter of butterflies in your belly every time he held you. Any animosity towards him that you managed to muster just melted away with a simple touch of his hand.  Despite your amorous feelings for the prince, you would probably still have tried to escape again anyway, but he was smart. He knew you would not leave now that you were turned, you did not want to hurt anyone and you could not stand the thought of extracting a human’s blood yourself. So with him you would remain  Mercifully, he always got blood for you so you never had to feed from someone yourself, and instead of him getting it from random villages he now collected it from prisoners sentenced to die or those who were in there for life. Even if they somehow found out they were being fed upon, who would believe them?    He had also remained true to his promise, instead of his poorly and conflictingly treated servant he treated you like the most precious treasure owned by any member of the royal family. And, aside from when he was gathering blood, he kept you with him constantly. Meetings, meals, outings, everywhere he was you were surely by his side with your hand in his as he gently thumbed the brand mark that denoted you as belonging to him.  You were always quiet and subservient to whatever he wanted to do and went with him willingly. He was not too concerned with your reticence. The fact that you were so good and obedient and always at his side was enough for him at the moment, besides he could hear the way your heartbeat picked up when he held you, he knew you would liven up and love him openly eventually. Ericke also figured you would need some time to get used to being around other nobles and people of wealth and importance. And he was not wrong, it was very nerve wracking to be surrounded and judged by people who felt like you were as dirt on their shoes.  The party he held for the announcement of his engagement and to introduce you to the people of high society was a good example. There were so many people all muttering and staring in your direction during the entire event.  “Don’t worry babe, you’ll be fine, you’re better than any of them anyway.” You literally clung, much to your fiancé's delight, to Ericke’s arm the entire time as he whispered in your ear pointing out who was who and little details about them. It was a miserable time for you, you had to greet them all individually and you could practically feel the scorn they all had for you, particularly the ones who had had plans to court or be courted by your prince. As if you had even asked for it.  After you had been introduced to everyone and greeted them all individually you stayed only as long as was required by polite society standards before Ericke rushed the two of you out and back to his chambers. As much as Ericke had enjoyed you clinging to him for dear life because of your anxiety he knew it was time to go when your beautiful eyes threatened to cry.  “You did really great, baby doll.” He kissed you gently on the forehead and pulled you into his lap after he sat on the bed. You started sobbing but he held you close and wiped all your tears away.  “Shhh, you did fine, I don’t care what they think anyway. I know how wonderful you are.” He held you tighter. You did care about how they saw you though. So many people judging and hating you just for taking the handsome Prince Ericke Ashfall off the market and for being lowborn while doing it. Your super sensitive ears even picked up Lady Caroway, head of her house, making absolutely terrible comments about you, someone she had scarcely met.  But your dearly betrothed had heard those comments too. And Lady Caroway had gone mysteriously missing. You knew what had happened, the blood he served you that day was clearly identifiable as hers by the scent. You did not let on that you knew what he had done to defend your honor, but you were very cuddly and clingy that night. It was the first time you ever graced his cheek with a kiss.    Ericke could tell you knew though, he made a mental note to give you the blood of anyone you could hear insulting you in an overly cruel manor.  You probably should have been mortified that he had killed someone so casually just for being mean to you, but honestly you were more worried about why you appreciated it so much. Maybe it was just part of being a vampire. Or maybe it was partly due to drinking blood, it always seemed to make you a bit more clingy. Maybe it was just that after he had kept you captive and forced you into a life of vampirism your brain latched on to any shred of decency he showed you. Whatever the reason, defending you in such a way really made you start to appreciate him a lot more.  Ericke was pleased that you were less quiet and had started to open up to him more. It made planning the wedding a whole lot easier, he did not do a single thing without asking for your opinion or input, though he did have to deny you your request for a smaller ceremony. This was his chance to show the entire kingdom how much he loved his darling, his chance to cement once and for all in the jealous minds that envied you that it was you he valued above any of them.    And when the big day came no one could claim it was anything less than spectacular. The color scheme of course matched the royal family’s colors, purple and white. Even in your mounting anxiety you had to admit everything looked astonishingly beautiful.  A rug had been placed down the length of the grand hall, white with purple trim. It alone was surely worth more than the entire hovel that you used to live in.  The normal chandelier had been swapped out and now there was a new gleaming silver chandelier hanging from the roof, three ringed tiers of candles, two rings of candles were white and the center ones were purple. All the candles produced a brilliant violet light, casting the entire room in a surreal amethyst glow.  Banners that bore the royal crest, in the same colors as the rest of the décor, now hung from the walls.  Curtains that usually concealed the windows had been drawn back to reveal a lovely view of the full moon that adorned the clear night sky and of the black pond below that reflected the moonlight perfectly in its still waters. Two large tables on each side of the room were completely covered by food and drinks of all kinds imaginable for the reception.  It was all truly magical.  You trembled nervously but managed to collect yourself and focus on performing the bonding ceremony. You each took one side of a silver ribbon and tied it together before kissing one another deeply on the lips. This was the first time you had kissed him upon the lips. It felt exhilarating, amazing, and right.      The festivities after that lasted well into the night, but when they finally faded away Prince Ericke took you into his arms with that surprising strength of his and carried you all the way to your shared bed chamber.  He placed you delicately upon the bed, as if you were a fragile snowflake that would melt at the slightest touch. Ericke then locked the door and lit all the candles in the room before crawling above you. “Now for the real bonding baby doll.”  Before you could ask what he meant his mouth was at your neck, the familiar graze of his fangs ghosted your sensitive skin before he slowly sank into you and drank of your cursed blood. You moaned loudly and unexpectedly, this felt so much better than when he fed on you when you were a human.  You were a bit light headed when he finished drinking from you and lifted your head to his neck. You were not keen to bite someone, but you let your instincts take over as you followed his lead. Your top canines elongated into fangs and you carefully bit your new husband and suckled from his wound. He had to stifle a moan.  When you were done you were blushing and felt very warm. Almost dizzy. It was amazing. You didn’t know that when two vampires feed from one another it binds them together in a manner far more intimately than sex or a mere mortal marriage ever could. It was a connection that only two vampires in love could ever possibly share. It was worth being a vampire to experience this.  Even so you both still wanted to make love and you pulled him close and grinded your crotch against his as he kissed you, sliding his tongue into your mouth as you shared the flavors of your blood with one another.  He ended the kiss and began to disrobe before removing your clothing. He had seen you naked before, but you had never been more beautiful to him, laying there in a beam of moonlight, your blood and his smeared on your lips, eagerly waiting for him to enter you.  Ericke kissed and licked from your waist to your crotch, licking what he found there tenderly. He intended to take his time, he had waited for this moment with his darling for a long time and he wanted to savor it. His mouth work was a bit sloppy, he was the prince and not used to servicing someone in such a way, but what he lacked in experience he made up for with enthusiasm.  You stroked his hair as his mouth kept busy working on you before finally making you cum hard all over his face. He wiped his face and licked his fingers and your crotch clean.  “By the gods, (Y/N), that was even better than your blood.” Ericke took a bottle of oil and lubed the both of you up really well until he was sure he could slide in you easily, he tested your entrance with a couple of carefully placed fingers to stretch you out and ready it for him.  When he was certain he would not harm you he lined his cock up with your hole and slid into you with a sigh of contentment. Your insides were so warm. And all for him. The thought almost made him blow his load right then and there.  He slid his length back and forth at a steady rhythm inside you as his hands held your hips. A scarlet blush spread upon his pale flesh seeing your pleasure-drunk face and knowing he was the cause, he was the source of that joy and ecstasy you were feeling.  Your prince grabbed your hips and began to go a bit faster, careful not to go too fast and end things too soon, he wanted to ingrain the sight of you laying there beneath him for the first of many times into his brain until the day the world crumbled into dust. He leaned close and began sucking your neck where he bit you previously, not to suck your blood this time, just to mark you.  A second orgasm made your body quiver as he continued targeting your neck with his affections, after you came though he could only hold back his own climax a few more seconds before unloading his nuts deeply into you.  After a moment for both of you to catch your breath he went to start a bath for the both of you. He laughed to himself, reminded of the night he first brought you here, when he was afraid to admit his attraction to you, it all seemed so silly now since after he worked so hard to make you his in every possible way.  

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere exo #yandere vampire #yandere male #male yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere husband #vampire husband #vampire boyfriend #My OCs #my OC Prince Ericke Ashfall

[anemptypuddingcup]

Excessively-pierced Sanji!

Art credit to the artist.

Excessively-Pierced Luffy. Excessively-Pierced Zoro.

Saw these beautiful images and needed to write immediately. I DESIRE to draw Sanji like this soon.

Contains: Excessively-pierced Sanji. Piercings everywhere, all over him. Mentions of most piercings including nipple piercings and jacob’s ladder piercings. Sanji still being sweet and soft. Soft sex. I’ll definitely write a full-length fic if y’all ask me to.

Oh my goodness, so many piercings all over him.

He’s still the same French lover boy we all know and love but with longer hair and plenty of piercings to go around. You couldn’t help but to fall in love with him and his beautiful piercings, and he’s got all types of piercings to show off to you.

You didn’t think that he’d be hiding way more underneath all the clothes he wears but boy you were in for a huge treat once you both got more comfortable with each other and eventually started dating.

“S-So many piercings.” You stare at Sanji’s face intently, looking at his adorable piercings along his ears and face. He smiles softly before a soft blush spreads across his face, a small giggle leaving him before he stands up.

“I have more love, would you like to see them?” He asked, his hand holding the bottom of his thin long-sleeved shirt. You nodded profusely, wanting to see all the others hiding around on his body.

He had piercings all over the place

Eyebrow & ear piercings,

tongue & lip piercings,

nipple & tummy piercings.

He has them everywhere.

Hell, he’s even got a single nose & neck piercing.

He’s yet to show his full jacob’s ladder he’s gotten done too. He can’t help but to feel so proud of them, not only do they look so stunning on him but they’re also attached to some of his weak points specifically his nipple and jacob’s ladder piercings.

He may look like a hard dom with the piercings but deep inside the man is still a sweet and respectful little softie. It caught you off guard the first time you hooked up with him, completely throwing you off when you found out his true nature underneath all those piercings.

Sometimes he’s tried to convince you to at least get nipple piercings to match with him but you’d always say no or tell him to wait for another time when it’s best for them.

“Pleaseeee? Can you please get some cute nipple piercings like me sweetie? I promise it’ll look so good on your pretty breasts just like me~” Sanji only begged and pouted while he suckled on your sweet hardened buds, a whine leaving him as he trailed his little tongue piercing along it. You moan out shakily as the slightly cold metal piercing runs along your nipple, your hand trembling softly against his long silky hair.

“N-No S-Sanji~ I-I c-can’t~” You moan out softly, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as as you trembled against his soft lips. He only pouts as stares up at you with a sad little frown, trying his best to convince you to just get them done and match with him.

His jacob’s ladder piercings was most stunning one of them all. The shimmering silver decorated his shaft so prettily that you couldn’t help but stare at his cock at times when it came to sucking him off. His jacob’s ladder was probably the one he was most embarrassed about since he thought he’d gotten it for no reason, until he met you of course.

“I got it only to impress the lovely ladies…some don’t find it very appealing though…” He’d sigh sometimes before completely just dropping the topic.

“It impresses me, not a lot of dudes get that done. I love it Sanji~” You admit wholeheartedly, a sweet smile across your face. It makes him blush every time you’d compliment it.

You’d have to admit that sometimes the piercings actually enhanced the feeling of his cock going inside of you every time. Each and every thrust felt like heaven as the piercings would rub along your velvety walls. It made Sanji less insecure about the decision since it pleased you and made you happy.

“D-Does this feel good love? It doesn’t hurt?” Sanji asks, a bit of nervousness spread across his face along with slight pleasure. You nodded before letting out a soft moan out against his shoulder. “I-It feels wonderful Sanji~ Please keep going~” You moan out, trembling against his lap as you wrap your legs around his hips.

He trails his soft fingers along your spine as he softly thrusted into you, a shaky moan leaving both him and you as he thrusted deep into you with a sudden gasp. You waffle your hand with one of his as you bite your bottom lip, your brows furrowing as he humps up into your cunt.

You let out a sudden gasp as you feel his nipple piercings rub up against your areola and along your nipples, the cold metal only enhancing your pleasure even more. Sanji presses his soft lips to your sweet glossy ones, a soft groan leaving him as he ruts into you a bit faster. You swirl your tongue along his lip piercings and he giggles before letting out a soft little whine.

“You feel so good sweet pea~ You’re so tight around me and my piercings~” He moans out softly into your ear, increasing the speed of his thrusts. You let out a shaky little moan as your grip around his hand grows tighter, your cunt only clenching around him from both his piercings and his thrusts. “I-It feels so good! S-Sanjii!~” You moan out, pressing your lips against his once again before laying your head against his shoulder.

He smiles to you softly before letting out a shaky moan, enjoying the feeling of your warmth enveloping his cock.

I need to write a fucking full-length fic, I just might do it.

Please tell me if y’all want a full-length fic, I’ll gladly write it for you all!

#one piece #one piece smut #one piece fluff #op smut #op fluff #one piece x female reader #one piece sanji #op sanji #sanji smut #sanji fluff #vinsmoke sanji #puddingcupimagines #excessively-pierced series

[smartycvnt]

The Other Torres

Pairing: Addison Montgomery x Reader

Summary: Callie introduces you to one of her doctor friends when you come to visit her in Seattle.

R

WC: 916

Washington was a long ways away from Florida. In fact, it was just about the farthest place from where you had grown up. You understood why Callie wanted to get as far away from family as she could. They were shitty about a lot of things, but a part of you wished that your sister had picked an easier place for you to come visit. There wasn't much in Seattle for you to do, especially with the dark and dreary weather. Still, you wouldn't have wanted to spend your Christmas vacation anywhere else with anybody else in the world. Especially not after hearing about your sister's short-lived marriage and the circumstances of her divorce.

"Damn, this is a nice hospital," you said as you looked around the lobby. Callie rolled her eyes at your reaction, having expected it. The two of you were very alike, but also wildly different at the same time. Callie had always made it her job essentially to look after you, which didn't always go the way either of you hoped it would. You were the black sheep of the family and a wild card, always getting yourself into some sort of trouble. For years, your parents had begged you to get your act cleaned up, but eventually they just stopped trying to reason with you. They had kicked you out, but Callie gave you a enough money for a plane ticket anywhere in the world you wanted to go with the promise that you'd genuinely try to find a career to pursue. Because of her, you were now taking photographs for magazines, art galleries, and a plethora of high playing clients.

"Don't sound so surprised, you're not the only Torres capable of making something of herself," Callie teased. You would never have insinuated that on purpose. Callie had been the one to teach you how to get the things you wanted out of life. If not for her, you'd have probably been stuck in Miami on some asshole's party boat or dead. "Come on, I have friends I want you to meet."

"You made friends, plural?" you joked. Callie punched your shoulder as the two of you walked into the elevator. The two of you walked around the hospital together, and Callie pointed out all sorts of little things to you. You were introduced to a few doctors and nurses who apparently weren't the friend Callie wanted you to meet. Callie seemed really excited about this person, which made you think they were more than just a friend. Finally, Callie stopped at the OB wing of the hospital and walked you right back into an office.

"Addison, do you have a minute?" Callie asked the woman sitting at her desk. You clammed up a bit the second that you laid eyes on this woman. You swore that you had seen her before, but you couldn't be completely certain. She looked familiar, but then again, she easily could have just been the woman of your dreams. "I want you to meet my sister, Y/n."

"Y/n Torres," you said as you held your hand out. \\"Addison Montgomery," she introduced herself. The two of you shook hands before Addison sat back down in her chair. "What brings you to Seattle?"

"Right now I'm just visiting my sister, but maybe if I'm lucky there will be something for me to shoot up here. I haven't spent much time on the west coast," you answered. Callie seemed to be watching you and Addison like she was waiting for something, but you couldn't tell what she expected out of this yet. "I hear it's beautiful over here."

"It can be. Are you a photographer?" Addison asked. You nodded as you picked at the bottom of your jacket sleeve. "Where do you do most of your work?"

"New York, it's practically my home at this point, but there have been some Los Angeles galleries reaching out lately." You could see the proud look on Callie's face as she heard about the work you were getting. It was sweet, even if you did think it was a bit embarrassing to think about her gushing to her coworkers about her baby sister's art. "I'd love to open a gallery of my own one day."

"Callie, I told you that in confidence!" Addison exclaimed as she threw a pen at your sister. Callie looked way too proud of herself for your liking, which was when you decided to speak up.

"What's going on here?" you asked them.

"It's nothing," Addison said quietly.

"Addison wants to ask you out because she saw you at a gallery years ago when she was still married and was really into you. Like, Mark still jokes about it sometimes," Callie answered. You hummed as you turned back to Addison. "But she's too big of a baby to actually ask you out."

"I don't know any good restaurants in Seattle, but I'd be willing to foot the bill if you wanted to take me somewhere," you said.

"That's Y/n's way of telling you that she doesn't make the first move," Callie interjected. You swatted at your sister without taking your eyes off of Addison. She looked contemplative, but you could see the exact moment when she decided that she was taking this shot.

"That sounds lovely, I'll come pick you up from Callie's later tonight." You nodded as Callie pulled you out of Addison's office, not wanting you to go meet her situationship partner.

#addison montgomery x reader #addison montgomery #grey's anatomy x reader #grey's anatomy #my writing

[gg-pedro]

can you hear the music (ch. 5) - joel miller x reader

masterlist

summary: everyone in jackson is trying to distract themselves from something. you teach ellie piano, and you find yourself trying to help more than one miller settle into their new world.

chapter 5: new life, old wounds. a honeymoon has to come to an end eventually.

warnings: post outbreak!joel, jackson!era, joel x reader, AFAB!reader, platonic!ellie x reader, protective!joel, implied age gap, hurt/comfort, sickfic?, joel needs taking care of, non-gratuitous descriptions of a wound, mentions of death, swearing, references to gun violence, fluff at the end, angst, and more angst.

words: 4.4k (eek)

a/n: edited this one to death. go listen to adrianne lenker.

-

Weeks passed. Rainstorms rolled into Jackson. 

Dark clouds eclipsed the sky, releasing sheets of rain that melted away most of the snow and rendered the ground a muddy brown. The storm system lasted days, save for an hour or two of sunshine between downpours.

Joel had asked you to move in with him. You refused. Then he begged you, saying that he wanted to be around to help you get back on your feet, but still, you declined the offer.

You always figured your honeymoon winter would have to come to a bitter end at some point. Watching Joel execute a man in cold blood probably wasn’t helping to close the divide that had been growing into a chasm and stretching you thin. 

Your wound was halfway healed now, too. It still left a scar that made you nauseous when you had to look at it in the mirror. 

You’d been allowed a week off from your usual duties around the commune. You asked to be removed from the position you had in the clinic, and Maria personally saw to that. You helped out at the school instead, with the kids you had grown so familiar with. They were the only thing bearable about your day.

You stopped offering piano lessons. That irked Joel the most. He’d gone even paler when you told him that than when he watched a bullet narrowly miss ripping a hole through your center. 

Maybe this is what you got for complaining about the quiet sanctity of your life in Jackson. 

You still played. You had long since memorized most of the scores you had collected over the years, so you’d taken to composing your own. It was all harsh, rolling sonatas that poured out of you whenever you sat before the keys. You’d pause to scratch the notes down on paper, skipping over a title because you knew you’d only be able to come up with one thing.

Joel. Joel Miller. Joel #3. Joel and I. Joel… why didn’t you ever ask his middle name?

You’d left him in the dark almost entirely about how you were feeling, save for that conversation you’d had in the clinic. By consequence, he was treating you as if you’d suddenly become fragile. As if you couldn’t handle getting hurt or witnessing death. You wished that you could say any of that was what was bothering you. 

Still, he came. He showed up for you. He was sweet. He cared. He barely even flinched when the little things would set you off. It made it all the more difficult to try and push back from him. 

On a cool evening, one where the air was almost warm but the breeze was bitter, the two of you sat on his back porch. 

He was strumming on his guitar, trying to remember how to play Led Zeppelin's Going to California.

He paused to tune the high E string and looked over at you. “Tommy said he’s goin’ on a supply run next week. Might try and hit up that old college I told you about. Want me to look for some more sheet music to bring back? Beginner stuff, or stuff for you?”

You blew on your hot mug of tea, watching the steam swirl in the air. “No. You’d have to sift through some old performing arts building. No use in that.”

“You sure? I know you said you wanted–”

“–I promise, Joel, it’s fine. Don’t make more work for yourself.”

“Alright, baby,” he said quietly, plucking away at the strings again.

“But for Ellie,” you interjected. “She mentioned wanting some more movie scores. Might be worth finding that for her.”

He played a little softer as he spoke. “It’s no good if she doesn’t know how to play it.”

“She can read music,” you countered. “She’s welcome to use my piano anytime.”

He stopped playing completely this time, groaning a little as he stretched to prop the guitar up against the house. You watched his expression mold into concern as you made eye contact.

“You’re shakin’, honey. Let's go inside. Or I can walk you home.”

The liquid in your cup mirrored a choppy ocean from the tremors in your hands. “I’m okay. Just cold out here.”

Joel got up and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Okay. Then I’ll get you a blanket. Gonna catch your death out here.”

Your knuckles were turning white with your grip on the mug and you flinched away from his touch. “Stop it, Joel.”

He paused. “Stop what?”

“Treating me like I’m another child,” you said. “Did you hear me when I said that I was fine?”

“That ain’t fair. I’m just tryin’ to look after you,” he responded.

You started laughing. “Really? It really feels like you’re trying to make up for something.”

It started to drizzle again. You watched as the rainwater began to dilute your tea. 

“Yeah? Make up for what, exactly?” He shot back. “Protecting someone I care about?”

You stood to meet him and the rain picked up. “Protect me from what? A man alone in the woods with no weapons?”

“Just ‘cause he dropped his gun doesn’t mean he had no weapons, doesn’t mean he was alone–”

“You beat his fucking face in, don’t act like you did it out of anything but emotion you couldn’t control.” The two of you were nearing drenched, but neither of you seemed to care. “Just admit that it was a bad decision. And that it was cruel, Joel. So fucking cruel.”

Joel just stared at you. “I’m walkin’ away from this, baby. You’re mad, I know. You don’t have to see things the way I see ‘em.”

You followed him to the back door. “I’m not done, Joel. Give me one good reason as to why you did it. A rational, true reason.”

“No,” he said as he opened the door.

“Then fuck you. You were wrong, it was cruel, and there is blood on my hands. How does that make you feel? To know that I blame myself for what you did?”

He slammed the door shut before walking inside, his face washed with anger. “Don’t you come into my fuckin’ house yellin’– not with Ellie upstairs,” he seethed. “ Blamin’ me for shit. For makin’ decisions that you couldn’t even imagine.”

You brushed wet hair out of your eyes. “Oh, but I could imagine it, Joel. I’ve been alive through all of this too. I still came out human on the other side. Not everyone is living in the world that you are. Not everyone acts like a fucking animal everytime they get the chance.”

“So that's how you see me, hm? A fuckin’ animal. You along with everyone else in this goddamn place. Just some old man who likes havin’ to kill people?” He looked away from you and shook his head. “I’ve got my reasons. Bein’ here isn’t gonna make me soft. Won’t make me forget,” he inched closer to you, “the ways that I lost people. I can promise you that.”

Joel had had a part of his humanity brutally gutted from him when his daughter died in his arms. Even still, he found it again in places he hadn’t expected. In Ellie, especially. In you. 

“And listen to this closely– real fuckin’ close,” he began again, “I don’t give a shit if you hate me. Move on, never speak to me again. As long as you’re alive, and I know that I did what I could to keep you that way, I’ll sleep fuckin’ easy at night. You understand that?”

He inhaled and went on. “Maybe that man made a stupid goddamn mistake tryin’ to hunt. Maybe I did, too. I wish I could say I was sorry for that. It’s a cruel world out here.”

“Sleep easy at night? Is that really the truth?” You crossed your arms over your chest and watched his expression shift.

“Wouldn’t… wouldn’t make it any harder.”

You knew that was a lie. 

You could see it now. Joel in another universe. A few less fine lines on his face, a few less grays threaded into his dark hair. No bad memories that would pull him from sleep. The right pocket of his jeans wouldn’t be ever so slightly stretched from storing a handgun there. Wouldn’t look at himself in the mirror like he was searching for the person he used to be. Wouldn’t look at you like you were an impending flatline on a heart monitor.

But this was now, and he would always be so stubbornly him, and you wished your feelings were important enough to him that he could see things the way you do. 

He dropped his hands to his sides and sighed. “Look, I’m just tryin’ to make things easier on you. Clearly you took this real hard, and I never should’ve brought you out there, and–”

“Enough, Joel. Don’t act like that was the mistake, or that you ‘ruined’ me, or some stupid shit like that. One of us has to feel remorse for what you did to that man and if you won’t, then I will,” you countered. “And sure, It’s been difficult on me. I’ll give you that. It hurts. There, does that make you feel good? Give you a purpose? You still want to put me back together after what you did?”

The look on his face told you that you had cut deep. You immediately wanted to back down, but you were tired and it hurt and he still felt like he wasn’t listening.

“I ain’t gonna yell at you, baby, if that's what you want. Just… just go. Go on, go home. I’ll still be here if you need me.”

You were angry because you were hurt. He read right through you, too. Knew you didn’t mean all of that. You were trying desperately to stay hurt and mad at something, anything, because once that faded, all you’d be left with was sadness and guilt.

You turned your back on him anyway, soaking wet and furious, and made your way home. You couldn’t help but cry. God, you hoped you hadn’t just ruined everything.

He’s still there if I need him, you kept repeating to yourself. He’s there if I need him.

-

Joel wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t.

He used to get at least a few hours every night. Took him a while to get there after settling into life in Jackson. Even when you were with him, lying close to his chest, he’d still wake up with the sun, hours before you did. 

At least you quelled the restless anxiety that accompanied the morning exhaustion. You’d slip your hand under his shirt, rubbing circles into his side and his chest, and beckon him back to sleep. He almost never did, but he loved it anyway.

And now? He was getting almost nothing.

Sometimes, he could swear that he heard your pleas. Those strangled sobs echoing through the dense forest. Joel. Joel. Joel, stop it, fucking don’t, please–

A single gunshot, and the sound of you sobbing. 

There, does that make you feel good? Give you a purpose? You still want to put me back together after what you did?

He laid awake, the rain pelting the roof and the rolling thunder in the distance making his heart rate spike and setting his body into fight mode. It was a feeling he’d grown accustomed to. He’d check that his pistol was on his dresser, then he’d check on Ellie, and finally, he’d look out his window, hoping to see that light on in your bedroom. Maybe your backlit silhouette. Anything. 

You didn’t need him trying to protect you all the time. Worrying about you. Losing sleep over you, for fuck’s sake. If anything, he thought, coming into your life had just made things worse for you. If anything, he needed you a hell of a lot more than you needed him. 

Powering through sleep deprivation wasn’t an uphill battle. It was all downhill. After the third day in a row with almost no rest, he was flagging. The world around him felt blurred, his senses and awareness all dull. He barely got through the work day with Tommy. He felt, in a word, awful. It was strange. He felt even worse than he had after all those nights on foot with Ellie where he would insist on giving up his sleep for hers.

He wanted you. With more sleep, maybe he could push those thoughts away if he tried, but now, all he wanted was you.

Fittingly, Ellie was the only one that noticed. Well, Tommy must’ve noticed, but he didn’t mention it. 

After dinner, he could hardly keep himself awake to listen to her talk about her day. Sitting on the couch, with his head lolling to the left and subsequently making his hearing muffled on both sides, he dozed off.

“–el? Joel? The fuck, man, I was just getting to the good part of the story!”

A hand shaking his shoulder jolted him awake and he was slow to reorient himself with the room. Breathe. He was in the living room. The fire was lit. It was still raining. Ellie was there. You were… fuck, where were you–? Oh. Right.

“Are you good?” Ellie asked.

He nodded quickly, swallowing around a raw throat. “Yeah– m’fine,” he said. “Keep goin’, I’m listenin’ to ya.”

“Uh, no, you weren’t. You fell asleep. And you’ve only been sitting for like, five minutes.”

Joel sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Okay. Wanna tell me somethin’ I don’t know?”

“You look like shit.” She told him pointedly.

“Mmh. Shouldn’t have even asked.”

Ellie rolled her eyes. “Come on, dude. Are you sick?”

“No.”

“You sure? You look sick. And super fucking tired.”

“Yeah, m’tired. Storm’s been keepin’ me up,” he said, which was only half of a lie.

Ellie didn’t believe him. “Huh. Fine. Sleep away then, old man.” 

Joel’s eyes were closed, but by the way Ellie’s voice got quieter as she spoke, he knew she was walking away. He was a little too tired and a little too deaf to hear the front door open and close again a few minutes later.

-

“He looks dead.” A pause. “Is he dead?”

“Jesus. No, Ellie, he’s not dead.”

A palm smoothing over his forehead, then the back of that same cool hand against his cheek. He didn’t want to open his eyes. Too tired, and the touch felt too nice.

“Oh, Joel,” you exhaled. “He’s burning up. Probably killing his back, too.”

Warily, he opened an eye to see you crouching in front of him, Ellie close to your side. He would’ve thought he was dreaming, but in his dreams, his entire body didn’t typically ache. 

“I knew something was wrong with you,” Ellie proclaimed, looking proud of herself.

“Why’re you…?” Joel rasped. 

You cut him off. “Hey, Joel, you with me? Is there any possible chance that you got bit?” You asked. Just covering all bases.

“No,” he replied. “And fuck you.”

“Yeah, he’s fine. Ellie, go heat water up on the stove.” You interjected. “See if there are any tea bags left.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Joel’s eyes slipped shut again just as you sat down beside him. He was sitting upright, arms crossed loosely over his chest.

“C’mon, Joel. You should be in bed,” you said softly. Your fingertips brushed his forehead again, confirming the fever you had felt earlier. “Figures… Ellie says you haven’t been sleeping.”

He shook his head and tried to dodge your touch. “M’fine, babydoll,” he said like it was a reflex.

“Yeah, you’re fine, I know. You’re always just fine,” you replied. “Wake up a little, though? For me?”

He couldn’t argue with that. Slowly, he rubbed at his eyes and sat up more fully. “...Ellie got you? Shouldn’t of fuckin’ done that…”

“It was fine. It’s barely six, It’s still light out. I’m glad she did.”

He opened his eyes again, looking panicked. “Six? Fuck, I gotta–”

“Six PM, Joel,” you clarified. “You haven’t missed a thing. In fact, it’s a great time to catch up on some sleep.”

After you grabbed both of his hands and threatened to go get Tommy, he finally relented, letting you help him up from the impression he’d made on the couch. He all but collapsed into bed, hardly putting up a fight when you tugged off his shoes and jeans to get him into something more comfortable.

On second thought, maybe this was more than exhaustion. He didn’t have much recollection of the fever that came with that infected stab wound, not until he dragged himself up from the floor with what dredges of consciousness he had left to find Ellie. This was sort of akin to that hot-and-cold aching feeling. Had a fever when he killed those two men, too. 

He groaned audibly at the thought. 

“You okay?” Your warm voice rang through the room.

This wasn’t that, though. He was safe. Probably picked something up from being out in the rain with you. Is that how that worked? More likely from the insomnia, which surely must’ve shot his immune system.

“Mhm, yeah… you’re stayin’?” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.” You kissed his temple and pushed his hair off of his forehead. 

“Why?”

You thought for a moment. Honestly, you were wondering that yourself. But when Ellie showed up at your door in the rain, her face awash with concern, you didn’t even think twice about coming.

“Ellie was worried about you. I had to come,” you said. “And… the things I said the other week, they– they weren't completely fair to you. I’ll try to make it up to you, if you’ll still let me.”

“Nothin’ to make up for,” he told you, words slurring together.

“I think there is, but–” you sighed. “Get some rest. You need it.”

He fell asleep easily after that. 

Joel’s nightmares were so vivid that he woke up feeling like someone had died in his arms all over again. He didn’t know who. When he sat up and looked around the room he saw you asleep, clinging to his arm, and a glass of water on the nightstand next to a mug of tea that went untouched.

He was freezing, shivering under multiple layers. His skin and the fabric clinging to it hurt. Everything hurt. He sucked in a breath, too overwhelmed to do anything about any of it. The only thing he could manage was to call your name out into the dark.

Your bleary eyes met his in an instant and you had to untangle yourself from him to sit up. “Hold on, I’m awake,” you said, clicking on the lamp.

Joel was pale and his eyes were glassy. 

“Did something happen? No, just feeling like shit? You’re still so warm… poor thing.”

He shook his head and tried to keep his teeth from chattering. When you opened your arms, he melted right into you. 

“Okay, baby. You’re okay, I still got you. Bet your fever’s just spiking.”

After a long while of him in your arms, he spoke up. “M’sorry for what I did,” he whispered. “Thought I was gonna lose you.”

You felt the ache in the wound on your arm that pulled from holding him. 

What could you say? That you would just put it past you? That all was forgiven? Was there anything at all that could be said with him in this state, sweating out a fever and shaking in your arms?

After mulling over the entire situation while you had been keeping your distance, you weren’t

sure if he would ever be sorry for pulling the trigger. He was sorry that it hurt you. That the golden image of him in your mind was tainted by what he’d done. That just made you angrier.

For Joel, part of that was true. He wasn’t sorry for pulling the trigger. He’d do it 100 times over, even if there was only a fraction of a chance that it made the difference between you living and you dying. But he was sorry for letting all of his past experiences haunt the decisions he made in the present, and he was sorry that he never did try hard enough to be better for you. 

He couldn’t magically change, though. Nobody could.

The fork in the road was clear. To hold onto hope that you could just love Joel deeply enough and some softer, unscarred version of himself would start to appear through the cracks, or to let him go. Let him be who he is, far away from you. 

Or maybe, maybe, maybe– keep loving him for who he is now, perhaps even if a little hardened and cruel, in this life with him. Love him deeply enough, love him long enough, and one day who he isn’t won’t matter. 

“You won’t lose me. You won’t. We can talk about it more when you’re feeling better.”

And if he ever finds those old pieces of himself, or if you manage to bring them out– you’ll love those, too. And if not?

He brought his face up from your shoulder and took your face into his hands. “I love you. I love y’too much. Don’t lose yourself in all this. Not for me, not for nothin’. Okay? Promise me.”

There wasn’t an ‘if-not.’ The harshness of this life hadn’t taken away his capacity to care about you. To want to give you the world. To love and be loved. Some things, some far away and buried things, the most important things, they had never left him. 

And Joel did. He did love you. It was a universal truth. It felt more certain than the sun rising each morning, than the salt in the sea, than the earth spinning on its axis.

“I promise,” you whispered. “I love you, too.”

-

You made sure Joel got better. Sleep was the best medicine. He was so bone-tired and out of it that you hardly had the chance to say anything else to each other for the next day or so.

You woke on Saturday morning to an empty bed. Joel’s room was tidier, empty mugs and dishes having disappeared from the nightstand along with the clothes that were scattered on the floor. 

You could hear Joel and Ellie bickering about something downstairs, and the oaky smell of coffee was permeating the entire house. It made you smile. You wanted to stay in bed and bask in it for a few minutes– that lazy morning feeling, and the growing warmth inside your chest that told you that life could be good again. In the heaviness there was still warmth, light in the darkness, sunshine after the storm.

It was still drizzly out, but everything was remarkably greener. Even the pear trees that were scattered between houses in the neighborhood were blooming. You found yourself looking forward to summer.

After soaking in as much time in bed as you could, you got yourself up and went to check on the commotion in the kitchen. Joel was busy making breakfast– eggs and a few strips of bacon that were sizzling loudly. He had a towel thrown over his shoulder and was gesturing rather aggressively at Ellie with a spatula.

“Come on, how’d you know that one?” Ellie asked incredulously, throwing her hands into the air from where she was sitting at the kitchen table. “It was good, too. Admit it.”

“It was the worst out of all of ‘em,” he retorted.

“Wait, wait, listen to this one– how did Benjamin Franklin feel when he first discovered electricity?”

Joel glared at her over his shoulder. “Shocked?”

She laughed. You were starting to think it was less about the joke itself and much more about Joel’s obvious hatred of them. “You’re killing my flow here, dude!”

He could pretend all he wanted. That smile and the way he shook his head afterwards told you he loved it. Maybe not the joke, but hearing Ellie laugh.

He came over to where you were leaning against the doorway, handing you a cup of coffee and pecking your forehead. You took both things gratefully.

“I see you’re feeling better,” you said, catching him by the arm before he could walk away. “Breakfast, too?”

He nodded, pulling you into him again to kiss you for a little longer. “Mhm. As a thank you for lookin’ after me.”

You smiled against his lips. “I’ll take it, then.”

The three of you sat down to eat together before Ellie, who finished three times faster than either of you, asked if she could meet Tommy at the stables. It was more like a declaration, one that gave Joel no room or time to say yes or no. 

You helped him wash and put away dishes, talking and laughing with him about completely mundane things. A part of you hoped that he wouldn’t want to bring up the last few conversations you’d had. This all felt so fragile and you would’ve done anything to keep it intact.

“I got you something,” he said after you’d sat down again. “Shut your eyes.”

Doing as you were told, you brought both hands up to cover your eyes. You could hear him leave the kitchen and bring something in from the dining room.

“‘Kay, open ‘em.”

He’d set a small vase of flowers on the kitchen table. The arrangement was made up of pink and white tulips, interspersed with golden poppies. You’d seen them when you went out with Joel– when you got hurt.

“I went out early this morning. You should see the fields, they’re covered in flowers,” he said. “I went out there to bury that man. Said a prayer for him and all that bullshit. He was alone, you were right. Someone would’ve taken him by now if he wasn’t.” He sat down in the chair next to you, reaching out for your hand. “Thought it was the least I could do… the right thing to do.”

You squeezed his hand as you stared at the flowers. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly. “You’re a good person.”

And somewhere, along the northern edges of a forest, there was a pile of freshly disturbed dirt and a cracked rock in place of a headstone. The rain would still come and wash over Joel’s work, but you hoped that nature would be kind to it. And in a few weeks when the sunlight gave birth to new growth, flowers would spread over the gravesite, too. 

“I’m tryin’ to do my best, baby. For you.”

This time, you really did believe in him.

-

#joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Pedro pascal #Pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us hbo #tlou #thou hbo #Ellie miller #Joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #tlou fanficiton #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fanfiction #Pedro pascal fic #joel miller x y/n #Joel miller smut #Pedro pascal smut #pedrito #tlou hbo

[paraliveimaginesblog]

What about them getting caught staring at their S/O?? With Satsuki, Iori, Saimon, Itsuki, and Kanata?

Iori Suiseki:

Iori would simply smile, even giving a flirty wave and wink. He was a man who knew the art of smooth recovery and in all honesty, he wouldn’t feel shame for looking at someone so beautiful. He would apologize if the attention made you uncomfortable, promising to control himself and his staring next time so that you wouldn’t catch him. You don’t miss the promise of more admiration coming from him in the future and find yourself to be the flustered one, despite calling him out.  

Itsuki:

He had already memorized every line of your face, every mark or freckle or scar, so he doesn’t know why he continues to stare at you every day. Likely to see if there’s any changes, faces would really tell a story after some time, but getting caught certainly wasn’t in his plans. It’s the first time you’d ever seen him act shifty, though he confessed he didn’t really know why he was doing it, it was just natural for his gaze to drift to you when he was relaxing.

Kanata Yatonokami:

Immediately lies and says he was not staring at you. He thinks you’re delusional and that you should probably get your own eyes checked. He was certainly staring, you knew he was because it was such unusual behavior for him so you couldn’t help but notice, but you never thought it was something romantic. If you had something on your face you were sure that he’d tell you without hesitation, but his behavior left you questioning what it was he wanted.

Naoakira Saimon:

Saimon’s eyes crinkle at the corners, the smile on his face showing he knew the jig was up. He wasn’t quite as sneaky as he used to be about sneaking looks at the person he felt affection for, knowing his rustiness would likely get him caught eventually. He can’t help but compliment you regardless, saying you looked stunning in your outfit or that your new haircut just suited you so well he couldn’t tear himself away.

Satsuki Ito:

As usual, he’s rendered speechless by your direct attention, and even more so  because you had called him out on his favorite pastime. He’s beyond embarrassed at it being pointed out by you of all people; he’s used to the others teasing him for his obvious crush but when it was you that noticed, it just made it worse. He can’t quite manage to string a sentence together but he does bow his head in apology before running off.

#Paradox Live #Paralive #Paradox Live Imagines #Paralive Imagines #Paradox Live x Reader #Paralive x Reader #Iori Suiseki #Itsuki #Kanata Yatonokami #Naoakira Saimon #Satsuki Ito #Iori Suiseki x Reader #Itsuki x Reader #kanata yatonokami x reader #Naoakira Saimon x Reader #Satsuki Ito x Reader

[sepublic]

Anyhow, I want people to understand the significance of me crying over TOH ending because. I generally do not cry. It’s hard for me to cry, I feel sadness and grief sure! But tears themselves are difficult. And as much as I love media, it’s very rare and hard for it to make me genuinely cry. Other cartoons and shows I’ve gotten into haven’t done it, but...

The Owl House genuinely made me cry. After the grief of Agony of a Witch, the lonely despair of King’s Tide, and so many other painful moments. The Owl House finally made me sob, genuinely, wails I had to cover up, hot tears, sore eyes and a dripping nose. I heaved and made myself cry even more, because goddamn is there such a relief in the catharsis of feeling this pain, and knowing it means you’ve felt something, you’ve felt happiness to begin with.

So yeah. The Owl House has always been pretty special to me. But I think this expression of how I felt was low key what I was waiting for, working towards, after the finale. The absence hurts, but it makes me appreciate all the more the presence it entails for TOH in my life. For the community, for the experiences, the analyses, the genuine fun and laughter and speculation! The hype and friends I’ve made along the way, me building up my own skills as a reader thanks to this show!

I remember being enamored by The Owl House’s first announcement in February 2018, the first ever, possible public reveal of that show; You could’ve only known it beforehand if you worked at Disney and/or were one of Dana’s friends. Something about Luz, about Eda, about King... The very premise itself, the magic. Something about this show felt special to me, I had a really good feeling about it I couldn’t explain.

I ended up checking Dana’s Twitter obsessively for updates, was excited when she posted this one art of Luz and King having an ice cream run, while Eda was displeased with a little demon trying to get her dessert. I expected mostly casual things, but something about the vibes, the magic and wonder experienced through the lens of Luz... It got to me in a legitimately depressive state of my life.

Because I was depressed. Suicidal, even. It was perhaps the worst phase of my life ever, and I hope it’ll stay that way. The beginning of 2018 felt like me finally getting over the big hurdle, that enormous halfway point at the top, and how it was all relatively smooth, downhill sailing from here. So it feels fitting that it was the beginning of the easier part that TOH was announced for me. All I knew were Luz, Eda, and King; I eventually gave up checking Dana’s accounts for art, because I was SO excited and impatient for this show, inexplicably.

That’s probably why I missed Dana’s little sneak peek of Amity Blight, haha... But anyhow, TOH gave me something to look forward to. Something to live for. And when I finally got a shot of Eda throwing treats to Luz and King, the former taken aback by the eyeball, the latter having it bounce off his skull. It didn’t make it to the final cut obviously, but it was my first glimpse of how the show itself would look.

I was in despair when The Owl House was delayed to 2020; I had to wait another whole year for it! And going from 2018 to 2019 was painful enough as is! But man... Was it worth it. The first teaser, the mystery and wonder it promised. My Bionicle brain freaking out over the reveal of the Boiling Isles as a giant corpse. 

And then the theme song. Me learning Luz’s VA, scouring very obscure media to get an idea of how she might sound like. And finally I heard it, we got other announcements; Eda by Wendie Malick, who made perfect sense, and King by Alex Hirsch, cue those obnoxious Bill Cipher theories I still hate to this day! 

Some crew members announced cupcakes they made, complete with banners like “Drinkers Coven” and I got hyped for this little content. I wanted to try cashew meringues because of it, and later recognized the repurposed frames of Luz, Eda, and King in actual episodes. I saw some concept art and expressions removed from the show, and was glad to recognize them later, as I did a frame-in-process of Luz wondering about her magical destiny.

I checked Tumblr but it seemed like I was the only person actively anticipating, and not just including TOH as part of a larger collection of media posts. I wanted TOH for itself, someone was curious if it had owls, I scoured the first teaser for a screenshot to satisfy them! I wanted more people in on it! I saw some clips, figured out Luz’s ethnicity from her squealing “Ay que lindo!” in response to King.

I made a few ancient posts, my first TOH post was me admitting I was excited and wondering if anyone else was. It got NO traction, at least not until much, much later... But that didn’t stop me! I had a dream where Luz was revealed to be disabled, her legs were prosthetics and Eda ended up giving her new magic prosthetics styled after owl feet. This would prove weirdly prophetic... Less so, my dream about Luz being the Anti-Christ (this was framed as a good thing), hence why she found the isles.

I speculated Luz was an orphan who had nobody, hence why she found the isles; But then an article mentioned her mother Camila. I went with that spelling until some end credits confused me with a typo that gave us Camilia, which led to a big fandom debate later until Dana clarified.

I analyzed the trailers, trying to figure out the plot and trajectory, wasn’t quite right there. I was happy to see TOH would have full 22-minute episodes, allowing them to get nitty gritty and elaborated, instead of truncated into 11-minute segments. Boy did that pay off, and looking back I can appreciate what a rarity that was, an achievement. People pointed out the anagram for me... 

I speculated on the titles, confused bits from Covention with scenes from the first episode, wondered if Escape of the Palisman referred to the tower. And in the end, the first episode finally came out, after I was enjoying Infinity Train Book 2, and I was enamored. It was wonderful, it utterly blew me away and was all I wanted and more. I had to get more! The moment Luz spoke of liking editing anime clips into AMVs and all that other stuff, I felt seen, and that was just the beginning.

I spoke my praises, but alas there was no fandom. The next week, I was surprised to find posts for the next episodes so early, and learned the episode was released ahead of time on DisneyNOW, so I immediately subscribed. I was excited to meet Amity Blight, Willow and Gus; And I was caught by surprise by how openly mean Amity was when she debuted! But I analyzed the sub-text of her actions and dialogue, and was vindicated. 

Amity was such a fun and interesting character because she really felt like a puzzle that we unlocked more and more pieces of, to better understand her. And I really got the sense of TOH’s re-contextualization and surprising character continuity, such as when King’s B-plot in one episode actually became the focus of the very next! You could tell the writers really cared about making a deeper story for kids and teenagers. 

One nice memory was when I wrote a post appreciating Willow and Luz’s friendship, the idea of Willuz as a ship; I took a shower and went back to check afterwards, and got notes! I analyzed the mechanics of glyphs deeply when they were first revealed, getting nitty-gritty; I remember the events of a few nights and what happened around me writing a post, comparing glyph magic to artificial replication of dragon breath!

I looked for crew art, which alerted me ahead of time to the existence of Emira and Edric, thought I didn’t know their names, and was delighted to learn Amity had older siblings!!! They were hers! Shoutout to @anistarrose who was one of the few people in the tag at this time. I really appreciate that post where you called out people constantly trying to make King into Bill Cipher in a serious manner, and the annoying implications of it. And how you realized a tweet poem by Dana foreshadowed Warden Wrath and the Emperor’s Coven... AND THE CODES TOO!!!

I distinctly remember this one meme video in the tags, a song singing “This girl is a lesbian” as Amity showed up as the punchline. I thought it was cute and loved the idea, I had no clue...! I even tried to analyze the dates on her diary entries because I was so obsessed with the show and wanted more, trying to see if I could figure out a calendar...

Spoiler alert, I didn’t. but it was FUN trying! Putting in all of this unnecessary effort for a detail nobody cared much for, because you could tell the crew were people who did the same, Dana even confirmed it later for herself! I remember being shocked about Eda having a curse, that one theory it was a Blight who did it. I suggested King being the Boiling Isles Titan, some Youtube channel even asked permission to use my post in discussing that theory! I was skeptical but checked and it was legit, and was pleased.

I went through that godforsaken Witch’s Apprentice game, realized too late the artifacts represented each episode and gave hints to the rest of 1A. I watched Look Hoo’s Talking, with Owlyvia and Horus, shout out to those who remember! I was amazed by Eda’s self-awareness in deciding things for Luz, especially after Luz briefly called it out in Covention. I found myself so ATTACHED to the characters, which makes sense since I hyped myself from the start!

I remember being surprised to see King wasn’t an overlord... Or was he? The original 2018 announcement suggested as such, but the way the show played around even after the premiere seemingly disproved it was fun. I speculated on what Luz’s magic track would be, enjoyed fanart of her in Potions as Eda was. Seeing Young Eda was a blast, and I remember being so distraught at the idea of her being cursed! I made a post wailing about it and Cat-Harman Mitchell commented LOL as I ranted about taking vengeance on the curser. Little did I know...!

I was afraid of a cliffhanger with Season 1A, but nope! Eda made it out despite the demon hunters! With a hiatus, I was left impatient and needing more. I scoured crew art, speculated on what Emperor Bellows would be like; Covention’s subtitles mispelled him as such, and Dana had to clarify in a tweet when 1B’s trailer released! I got into deep discussion with @fermented-writers-block about the show, about the mysterious owl mural.

I guess TOH was my first start at really analyzing a show from the start, especially since nobody else was around to do it for me. And coming fresh from reading the meta of those who did inspire me, I went HARD, reasoning that even if it was disproven, the process was fun! I analyzed snake motifs, the mysterious green hand that stole King’s crown. I made a whole diagram about parallels between Luz, between King and the Gildersnake, between ‘human counterparts’ to Amity and Willow and Gus. This definitely fed the revelation of Creepy Luz later on...

But yeah. To think the snakes did pay off with Luz’s palisman Stringbean; Back then people speculated as such with the title’s design, and I’m so happy to see it came through! I speculated on lore, wrote my first TOH fics, The Bile Coven and Amity’s Diary Entries, the latter of which I feel particular pride for since it was a character study of her that proved rather on the spot!

I was obsessed with the worldbuilding, came up with my own ideas. Imagined what Bellows and Kikimora were like. I waited IMPATIENTLY, and even had a dream where Eda was captured by Lilith, Kikimora, and Wrath, as well as some covenscouts... But then it was revealed her curse was a result of possession by the creature depicted on the mural; And it progressed to the next stage of converting her body to its own as she got more feral and escaped on her own!

The airship used by the Emperor’s Coven proved prophetic. And after 1B seemingly disproved this idea, 2A brought it back after all and I was delighted! TOH was and is a show that keeps giving for me, makes me feel rewarded for engaging with it, and is grateful even when I’m wrong, as Any Sport in a Storm’s B-plot attests. I made jokes about King being Mata Nui because I was a Bionicle fan. Someone saw a Grom poster in the background of a shot and suggested Lumity, but I didn’t get my hopes up... Hah.

There was a trailer that alluded to an episode of Luz and Eda in a snowy place; I knew of an article on TOH that mentioned a ‘Witch’s Arena’ at the Knee and guessed this was it. I liked the song that played because I associated it with TOH, found out for myself.

Rebecca Rose, shout out to one of the OGs talking about the show on Youtube! She made a wonderful video discussing Amity’s development and potential, speculating on her, and I felt SOOOO vindicated and followed her for it! As you know, she became THE fan channel for TOH, and was eventually ascended to a full-on crew member for it. We’d all watch her reactions and discussions afterwards.

Adventures in the Elements leaked, I correctly guessed it wasn’t the next episode but the one after it. I was delighted to see the twins be good siblings, and Amity’s casual outfit... Before that, I read a fic during the hiatus of Lilith adopting Amity from abuse (Remember when we thought she was that functional?), and it understandably depicted the twins as mean-spirited and basically apathetic. It was a good fic.

I remember joke-speculating that Bellows would be short, because I was projecting analyses of the Pale King from Hollow Knight onto him! I considered making an animatic of Farquaad’s reveal from Shrek but with Bellows, but alas I’d never actually done an animatic and had zero clue lol. I had another dream about Bellows coming in with the Emperor’s Coven to apprehend Eda, who became an even larger version of her Owl Beast form in response.

Then Summer 2020 came around. What a wonderful time of my life... New fans came in when they saw the possibility of canon sapphics with Lumity, and I was exhilarated! So careful not to get my hopes up, but look now... I was hyped to see Belos’ appearance. I analyzed the 1B trailer, took screenshots and organized them to guess which episodes they were. Rebecca Rose found foreign titles of 1B and translated them, and I did note how translations could skew the intended anagram. I remember “Mini-Problems” being an episode title...

You can probably guess the rest from here, since this was about when the fandom really kicked off. And boy did people stick around for it all. I felt delight in knowing Grom was sooner, due to Understanding Willow being paired with Really Small Problems on the same day! Two episodes at once, instead of the original plan for the last two episodes of the season together! I ended up regretting that low-key with the angst and pain of Agony of a Witch, which made me realize how much I cared for Luz, Eda, and King, and made me the closest to crying from the show.

I felt vindicated to see a popular artist like MoringMark begin making fan comics, I had no idea that’d be THE thing he’d be known for, after I knew him as the Gravity Falls guy. I followed Matthieu Cousin on Tumblr, got excited for that trend of dressing up TOH characters for Grom and sending in your designs, with a winner announced! I don’t think that ever happened. Anamanaguchi’s Prom Night became a thing thanks to a crew member, and who can forget Little Miss Perfect? Kwame rolled with the success and I was glad for him. Eda’s gray eye appearing after the season finale in the end credits shocked me.

There was the Reddit AMA, where I prepared lore questions afterwards and had none of mine answered, but we learned a good deal! Especially the telling “Clawthornes are a bird motif” from Dana, her being put into a headlock by a nun. Amity and Lilith weren’t close but as I mentioned a while back, Dana expressed that she also made connections with cartoons as a kid. Odalia liking her kids color-coded, hence Amity’s hair, and Alador being interesting. Which led to a bunch of fanart that proved off the mark but also not? Alador wasn’t THAT well-put but otherwise...

And that stream! That wonderful stream! I contemplated spending so much money via donation to get something. Eda drinking Apple Blood, Spencer Wan almost spoiling Lilith having a Raven form. Our first sneak peek at Hunter’s face, not counting his appearance as the Golden Guard in S1; We all guessed he and the Golden Guard, or “Owl Mask” were the same. I was stumped and baffled how he fit into Belos’ dynamic... Hoo boy. And we all thought Hunter was an adult, even Alador at first, because of those eye bags!

I wanted to see the coven heads, based on their banners we saw; I liked the Potion Head especially and even when his design proved different than I expected, it was still my favorite! I thought Darius might be a Blight grandfather and he DID have a connection... I had a dream of the twins working for Osran at a library and messing with him, recognized Mason from Covention, and dreamed Terra was named Botanica.

Christmas art of the cast came out, I was happy to see Emira and Edric happy there, after being saddened by Dana’s Grom art of them and even writing a whole fic about it, which I’m chuffed about! She also drew Mattholomule... I recall in the wait for Season 1B, she did some art of the characters. Gus playing games, Mattholomule losing to him; King despairing over stubby thumbs.

Fanart of the kids in quarantine, Amity declaring it’d be easy to stay away from Luz, to Luz’s sadness; Boscha being mad because she couldn’t talk to her friends. Remember when Boschlow was a big thing, until Understanding Willow killed off some of the hype? And confirmation that Willow worked out, which we saw come to fruition in Season 2; People were surprised but I wasn’t! And of course, Frewin being his own entity from Bump, and not Bump himself.

But back to chronology, I guess this is where I should end off. Sorry, this ended up being MUCH longer than I intended, and really you could write a book about my experience with TOH and the journey on a meta level. But those were interesting times, those beginning eras. Back when I didn’t feel the need to always add screenshots to posts unless necessary. And it’s making me nostalgic. It’s making me appreciate everything we’ve been through, the roots of my hyperfixation. And how it all led to me finally crying, because I really did build up THAT much of a love for the show.

I found my first fandom I really felt a part of, found so many people who enjoyed my meta and validated me for it! I feel I’ve grown so much as a person because of TOH. And as I nostalgically reminisce on how different the show was then, I appreciate all the more how far we’ve come, and what it is now. Snapping back to the present does make me sad over how much has passed and changed, but I also appreciate it while remembering the ideas I once had.

I’ll miss that era, and TOH as a whole. And boy do I associate that classic ending theme, how I loved the melancholy of those end credits, speculated on them paying off in the finale. And they did...! It feels good to hear it one last time after a year without it, due to the end credits being removed or redone. There was something so idyllic and dreamlike about that original sequence, capturing the feeling of coming home, and I’m glad TOH did that once more with it.

#the owl house #ramblings #long post

[lucapizzelles]

Hello I've decided I want to make a longform post about sea monster gills okay 321 go

Under the cut because there's a near embarrassing amount of yapping

To begin, I promise these next two paragraphs are relevant:

Amphibians are known for having both lungs and gills (with a small caveat). However, most (not all! will come back to this in a second) amphibians actually lose their gills in their transition to adulthood (there’s the caveat). Many amphibians instead ‘breathe’ through their skin, cutaneous respiration, by diffusing oxygen in the water into their blood cells. Sick af. Unfortunately, this does not (usually) mean they can live all of their life underwater. A main issue faced by many amphibians is that the water is not saturated with nearly enough oxygen, meaning they need to surface sometimes to take air (far more oxygen dense) in through their lungs. Though they can’t stay there forever, this does mean that they can stay underwater for prolonged periods of time, both by having an insane ability to hold their breath and by using their skin to 'breathe.'

So, the thing with most amphibians lose their gills: Axolotls, for example, are actually what's known as a paedomorphic animal (humans are somewhat paedomorphic as well, fun fact), meaning that their features (or some of them) don't change during their transition from adolescence to adulthood. This is unusual, because most amphibians undergo a metamorphosis in which they lose their gills when they move on from the larval stage. Axolotls, though, do not have a larval stage AND keep their gills. 

So, in the movie, Luca has never been to the surface, he hasn’t even been above the surface level of the water (more on this in a second). Amphibians that undergo a metamorphosis and lose their gills almost always come up for air at some point, as, like mentioned before, the "breathing through their skin" method is just not sustainable. So, if not all sea monsters, Luca, at least, must have gills. You can argue that Luca has not yet undergone a metamorphosis, thus meaning his parents might not have gills while he does, but that’s implying he is in the larval stage right now. Due to how similar he looks to his parents and other adults (and, though I’m hesitant to use concept art, how similar he looked as an even younger child), I’m going to say that sea monsters are very much so paedomorphic and don't have any larval stage.

(Evidence 0, technically: I also will argue that, given how much Daniela is against even going towards the surface, if she (and other adults) had to breach the water level to breathe in air, then this concept wouldn't be so taboo to Luca. Daniela likely would've told him that he will eventually develop lungs and he will need to breathe air, especially as he's, like, 12, and, assuming that sea monster puberty is around the same time as human, he is soon going to undergo that metamorphosis. OR, Luca would've at least seen his parents, his grandma, any other villager, going towards the surface to breathe. Regardless, I'm not subscribing to the theory that they lose their gills, anyway.)

Side note: this also leans them, taxonomically, towards being amphibians and not reptiles

(side note about the side note: this also unfortunately means they probably don’t have claws. I do my best to bend the rules of nature accordingly to fit what their actual anatomy in the film is instead of saying “they don’t have x thing” that they clearly DO have, but, in the film they don’t actually have visible claws (their sea monster fingers are pointy at the ends, but I think that's just how they grow, look at salamander paws). This is incredibly unfortunate, because I really like the idea of them having claws. What is incredibly not unfortunate is that the world is made of pudding and if I want them to have claws then they can and I will reshape taxonomy as we know it to make that happen. And you can too! (Also I’m giggling. Even in the most stereotypically threatening scenario that we see sea monsters, when Alberto reveals himself, the fingertips are still distinctly round. Human nails can do more damage. Lmfao. Little baby.))

This next section is a lot of silly analysis simply for fun because I was on the debate team and everything needs evidence:

Evidence 1 timestamp 5:55- 6:20

The scene where Luca sees a boat and then imagines himself floating up to the surface of the water, where he's about to breach it and see the human- but his own imagination stops him. The water forms an impenetrable barrier around him and he can’t push his way out of it. This is both for the audience to see how Luca feels trapped under the water and also demonstrate that he’s very interested in the surface, despite his “good-kid” nature. Ignoring the character development, I’m going to use this scene to say that he absolutely has gills. If he had no gills, then going above water level wouldn’t be so forbidden. Of course, like whales, dolphins, and other marine mammals, you can absolutely have animals that live entirely underwater and simply hold their breath for a really, really long time before breaching for air, but this isn’t the case. To breathe in the air, he’d need to breach the surface of the water, and if this was a consistent thing in his life so as to, say, not die, then it wouldn’t be an issue for him to imagine it. Thus, he was likely born underwater and also born with gills. 

Evidence 2 timestamp 0:00-0:15 

Pretty much exactly what I said before but no longer daydreaming and it just further enforces what I said. If he had simply breached the surface of the water at some point in the past, let alone go onto the surface itself, then he wouldn’t struggle so much. One could argue he’s nervous to go above the water level because he knows the next step is to go onto the surface, and to that I say: yeah you’re probably right. Consider though: the daydream sequence. Also I would throw the slippery slope logical fallacy at your face, but Luca himself was probably slippery slope-ing in that argument, so I am keeping my mouth shut.

Evidence 3 timestamp 4:00

This is actually a bit niche (and a stretch, but everything in this post is a stretch), but if you watch the “Deleted Scenes” Bonus Feature for Luca (2021), specifically “Starfish Hunting (timestamp 1:25),” you get more insight as to why this scene is important. Just to overview it: Enrico Casarosa clarifies that this alternative introduction scene to the film specifically highlights the quiet moments during Luca (2021): “[...] There was a tone in [this scene] that was important to the movie, and it really inspired many other moments. I find it’s one of those sequences that we always kept talking about that we gotta make sure we carve time for the slower, quiet, little reveries to nature” (Casarosa). The scene that played in the background as he said that quote was the scene I just linked you too for the third evidence. I bring up this whole other thing to prove that every little thing in this scene was thought about, especially (drumroll) the feeling of the air on Luca. In this scene, you soooo clearly see how Luca’s hair shifts as the wind sweeps through it, which they wouldn’t add in that animation detail* and make it so front and center of the scene if it wasn’t important. As it is for the audience, it’s also Luca’s first time feeling the sensation of air like that on his skin. 

*huge note: you can clearly see the wind brushing through Luca’s (and others’) hair a lot throughout the film, an example off the top of my head is the nighttime scene on the lighthouse when Luca asked what the stars were. Worth mentioning. Do with that what you will.

So, they likely have gills. Now what? Well, originally I thought that there’s really only one place for their gills to be: within their pharynx. Like fish, the sea monster would breathe in through their mouth (or nostrils and they make use of a secondary palette), and the water passes over their gills in the pharynx and out through the sides of their necks, covered by an operculum. This felt shaky, honestly, as the main issue is the operculum not being present in their models for the movie. However, pharynx-located gills was all that I knew of internal gills to be, until:

Signal2Noise’s sick ass bichambered lung theory (idek how they thought of this but it’s actually so awesome and is my personal hc now and I want to share it)

So, to finish off, I wanna talk about this fic briefly. (Observations of the Sea Monster, by Signal2Noise on ao3) (if the link doesn’t work)

It’s not really a fic, it's (in their own words) a “mock-scientific paper written in 1999.”I just wanna talk about their respiration section (and I'm going to try and translate much of it into more layman’s terms), but I highly encourage you to read the full thing, especially if you’re interested in their biology and such, because it’s INCREDIBLY interesting. The amount of work clearly put into it is amazing. I’ve already gassed it up on this site before.

I don’t want to repost any of their work here, so (and I believe it’s no longer marked as only members can view it) go to chapter 7 to specifically see their bichambered lung theory. It does have a lot of science-y jargon, but it’s very much worth it. 

Essentially, two lung chambers (one major, one minor). Sea monster breathes in water, oxygenated water goes into the major chamber, over/through the gills, and the now deoxygenated water drains into the minor chamber. The minor chamber opens up into the trachea through a dorsal facing bronchiole to allow the water to be exhaled out. In the same way that the epiglottis prevents food from going in our windpipe when swallowing, a similar structure prevents the water from flowing back into the major chamber during exhalation. 

Very cool!

I don’t have much else to say. I just wanted to ramble about this and actually I had most of this sitting in a google document for a long time. I figured that I really enjoy when people ramble about Luca regardless of what it’s about so maybe someone else shares a similar mindset. Also, I don’t see people talking about their biology in this way very often. I also don’t think the gills thing was heavily disputed in the fandom? Like, I think most of us agree that they breathe underwater somehow, but this was still fun to put together. Also, just to add on to why cutaneous respiration isn't likely for them (not that they can’t do it at all but): too much of their body is covered in scales for it to be efficient in any way. Only being able to breathe using the skin on your chest, belly, and face would kill you, probably. 

Hope you enjoyed the random analysis and all-over-the-place rambles and the mini zoology lesson :]

#luca 2021 #pixar luca #luca pixar #sea monster biology #this was very fun to write and i had most of it just sitting around for a while

[starlady-baby]

Juke Jeudi time! This time you get a double feature. Art and a story! Enjoy.

Ever since the stamps went away and Julie was able to hug her boys, things were going good in the Molina house. Although nobody knew how or why it happened, none of them complained about it. The boys could still spend time with their favorite alive person (because they still weren’t sure exactly what they were) and happy that they could still spend time with each other.

It was one of those days where things were more quiet than normal. Reggie was hanging out with Ray and Carlos, Alex was probably with Willie somewhere, and Luke was in the studio, working on a new song he and Julie had started. He hadn’t come up with any lyrics, but he’d started plucking out some notes on his guitar that fit with the melody they came up with.

Eventually all his ideas had been spilled out and he left the pages on the piano. He wasn’t sure what time it was, but Julie must be home from school now, right? He shrugged and poofed himself up to her room, hoping she’d be there.

She startled with a jump and rolled her eyes. She tried to look angry but Luke saw right through it.

“How did you even know I’d be here yet?” She asked, barely having set her backpack down by her bed.

“It was just a hunch.” He shrugged. “Whaddya say we go work on that new song?” He asked, a grin forming at the end of his lips.

“I would love to, but I just got slammed with a bunch of homework for tomorrow.” Julie sighed heavily. “And you remember what my dad said. I’ve got to focus on school first.”

“School can wait, Jules. You always get it done anyway, right?”

Once again she rolled her eyes. “Yes, but that’s not the point right now. I need to crank out some of this stuff before we go into the studio.”

Luke rolled his eyes and pouted. “C’mon… you’re sure you can’t just take a little break before working on your boring school work?”

“Yes, Luke, I’m sure. It won’t take long, okay? I promise we’ll work on it after.”

He was still pouting but nodded and sighed. “Fine. I guess we can do that.”

Julie smiled at him and grabbed one of her books out of her backpack. “You’re still more than welcome to join me. I don’t mind the company.” She said, that smile of hers turning into a smirk.

“Oh, why thank you.” He smirked back and sat on her bed.

After Julie grabbed the book, (some Shakespeare play that Luke had unfortunately recognized from his own high school days) she sat up on the bed as well. She propped herself up against the head of her bed, her pillows behind her back, and started to read.

Luke sighed quietly to himself, not so patiently waiting for when the two of them could go out to the studio. He knew that this is what she needed to do though. He knew Mr. Molina meant it when he said Julie needed to focus on school, otherwise their so-called “plug” would be pulled. And as much as he wanted to work on the song, waiting for her to finish her homework so they could still make music together was worth all his time.

Eventually Julie was about halfway done with her reading, which took shorter than Luke thought it would. She set her book down momentarily and decided to stretch.

“Jeez, I should’ve sat at my desk. That board against my back is not comfortable.” She mumbled, raising her arms up.

Luke nodded. “I can’t imagine it would be. At least the pillows help though.”

“I suppose. Thankfully I don’t have much more to read, though.”

“And then we can go work on our song.” Luke said as he grinned.

“And then we can go work on our song.” Julie laughed, grabbing her book again. This time though, instead of resting against the board and her stack of pillows, she leaned up against Luke.

His eyes widened a bit and then his grin turned to a soft smile. “Sounds like a plan, boss.”

Julie laughed quietly and returned to her book. As her eyes went over the pages and the words form sentences in her head, she eventually found herself under Luke’s arm, her head not too far away from his.

He looked down at her, happy to have her in his arms. So glad he can finally hold her and be around her without being afraid that they’d never be able to touch. That they could never hold hands. That this little relationship of theirs couldn’t go anywhere. Now he felt like he didn’t need to worry about that anymore.

Her eyes glanced up and she saw his soft hazel eyes staring into her own. They looked at each other for a second, taking in each other’s beauty, until they both leaned closer and their lips locked together.

After they pulled away, Luke grinned.

“I think this little relationship of ours just got a bit more interesting.”

#happy juke jeudi! #juke jeudi #jukebox #juke #julie and the phantoms #jatp #luke patterson #julie molina #julie x luke #luke jatp #julie jatp #my fanart #my fanfic too I guess- #I’ve never really posted my writing anywhere before #so I hope ya’ll like it #this was fun nonetheless #yay juke!

[wesavegotham]

Because of the whole James Somerton situation I was reminded that I watched Hbomberguy's video about Sherlock some years ago and so I decided to rewatch it. And at least in my opinion so many things he pointed out that made Sherlock kind of suck (especially after the second season) are also kind of applicable to modern Batman as well?

Always promising that if you just keep reading the story will eventually be good. Distracting from a bad or boring story with flashy art. Bruce only rarely doing real detective work, most of the time he just randomly knows stuff and then runs somewhere to punch someone evil in the face. Way too much revolves around proving that Bruce is the smartest, strongest, most special man in the world instead of telling an actually interesting story. Or you know, letting the other characters contribute something meaningful to the plot. Writers turning Joker into Batman's arch-nemesis that he needs on a deeper level for some reason is only hurting both characters at this point and needs to end...there's probably more, but I feel like that are the main points.

[overly-dramatic-artist]

💖Week Two: Relationships💖

The primary relationship that overarches the entire story and evolves the most significantly is Angela and Bruno. From a young age, they declare each other to be the best of friends, almost always at each other’s side or poking gentle fun at the other. To be perfectly clear, neither see the other in any sort of romantic view for a long, long time, and even when it starts to develop, they are quite blind to it, brushing off their feelings as just being a very strong friendship. They have the kind of rapport where they can be talking back and forth over each other passionately without any sort of irritation, or sitting in complete silence together either reading or crocheting, just passing the time in the presence in each other’s company.

When Angela is 19 and Bruno is 20, their relationship….changes for lack of better words. There’s a spark. A shift in the stars. An awakening of senses that ties the strings of their friendship into an irreversible knot. And despite this ‘change,’ they still promise to remain friends and just friends; only friends. She is still processing the trauma of her last romantic relationship, and Bruno (who I HC as demiromantic) doesn’t really want to take the deep dive into romance. So, they are friends. Just friends…who happen to sometimes kiss and look at each other a little too longingly.

For a more immersive and in depth experience/explanation of their relationship, I suggest reading my fic Why did it have to be me?

Angela is also quite close with Julieta and Pepa, as well as Agustin and Felix. As young teens, Angela and Pepa are in the church choir together, with Felix and Agustin who act as instrumentalists for the group. Julieta and Bruno will occasionally be pulled into the musical antics. Of the sisters, Angela is probably slightly closer to Julieta, mostly for her ability to read Angel like a book and is able to hone in on what’s going on with the girl. Pepa on the other hand has her head slightly more in the clouds so to speak when it comes to understanding the shifting moods and feelings of her friends, mostly because she has such a huge responsibility already of trying to regulate her own emotions. Julieta has always suspected something going on between her brother and Angela, is eventually proven correct when the relationship becomes difficult to keep hidden. She was mostly just suspect of her brother harboring a bit of a crush on Angela, but just being in denial about it for many years to the point where it had been completely repressed.

(Forgive the old art, I definitely need to update these ones :0 )

Angel loves the Madrigal kids with her whole heart, and though she wouldn’t say it out loud, she considers them as her nieces and nephews (and technically speaking with the whole common-law marriage contingency, they *are* her sobrinos more so than her cousins kids). She is closest with Isabela and Dolores given that they spent more of their formative years with her more than the other kids, but if you ask her, she will adamantly deny having a favorite.

When they were little, Isa and Dolores loved when Angela and Bruno would watch them for an afternoon/evening, because they would make a production of keeping them entertained with outlandish stories, complete with melodramatic acting and costumes (they especially love getting into Angela’s wardrobe of fancy things, and Dolores especially loves Angela’s would-have-been wedding gown that she keeps tucked away in her closet, but when Dolores finds it and gushes about how pretty it is, she’s able to let go of some of the bad feelings surrounding it). The girls get involved in their fable telling, inserting their own takes of action into the plot (which is completely welcomed) (very much like that episode of Bluey with uncle Rad and Frisky). Once Dolores gets her gift though, loud and intense storytellings get overwhelming for her, especially with the addition of the other kids. So, from this point on, Angela would do private story-time for Dolores, most often done when she would braid her hair. Isabela, on the other hand, liked to take on a directorial role, and was adamant about her vision for plots. Early on, the girls’ favorite stories were La Fada Morgana and the tale of Ariadne.

Angela, for better or worse, sees a lot of herself in Isabela as she grows up. The pressure to be perfect and splendid all the time is far from unfamiliar for her, and she tries, though not terribly successfully, to curb the pain of having to fit into a predetermined mold by giving Isabela some creative outlets to express herself. Initially, Isabela is able to get some of her feelings out through art, but overtime becomes scared of the consequences for just having negative feelings, so she only ends up creating in a very limited manner.

Luisa was an armored by Angela’s dancing when she was very young. When Luisa was around four, Angela returned from a long trip wherein she had learned to dance the Bolero, and little Luisa fell in love with all of the twirls and movements of her tía’s long skirt and cape. Angel would take Luisa’s hands and spin her around the floor to the sound of Agustin’s piano playing, and lift her up in the air like a true prima ballerina. With Angela, Luisa was able to indulge herself in her desire for the soft and girlish things of life, like chiffon skirts the swish around when she spins and pretty ribbons decorating her hair in elaborate styles. Unfortunately, time for the frilly trivial things lessens as the demand for Luisa’s gift grows. When traveling, Angela tries to find little trinkets like earrings or hair pins that Luisa can wear will working so she can still feel some bit of fun femininity.

Camilo and Mirabel both thought that Angela and Bruno were married when they were itty bitty. It only got brought up at one point: Camilo had just turned five, Mirabel in a few months preparing for her gift ceremony. The family is in the dinning room/ kitchen, and Mirabel asks Angela why she never wears a ring like her mama or tía Pepa. She’s a little confused at first, like what are you talking about, why would I wear a ring? Cue slight tense atmosphere of gently explaining that they are in fact not married, and the awkwardness that ensues afterwards of the kids insisting that they must be married because they’re in love and if you’re in love you should be married. This adds a mountain of tension on the pair as well as her relationship with Alma, especially given she leaves for a long time after Mirabel’s gift ceremony.

Angela teaches Camilo to play guitar when she comes back from a trip from DR when he’s seven. She gifts him her old guitar, telling him it’s charmed to never go out of tune, but in reality, she and Félix take turns tuning the strings when Camilo isn’t looking. He doesn’t catch on until he’s thirteen.

She also teaches Mirabel to embroider when she returns from her first cruise six months after her gift ceremony. Mirabel is in a concerning depressive spiral considering how young she is, and Angela offers to take her out of the magic house for a little bit to be in her family’s shop. She tells her that she can find magic in the ordinary things and thus starts teaching her little thread decorations and embellishments. She’s able to cultivate a bit more happiness in Mirabel through crafts and tailoring.

Antonio, given his very young age, does not have many solid memories of Angela, but loves her regardless. When she comes back for Dolores’ wedding, he is still shy, but quickly acclimated to her presence (the rats have nothing but good things to say about her). She held him a lot as a baby, but her traveling and almost permanent move away kept her from being around when his consciousness evolved from baby brain to child-with-object-permanence brain.

Now for the enormous family tree!!!

The great grandparents don’t play much part in the story, so for sake of simplicity, I will skip over them. Quinuama Ixchel Maria Estrada - Villca Gonzalez and Raymundo Hernan Antonio Estrada - Rodriguez Villca are Angela’s maternal grandparents (they are primarily who raised Angel), who have children: Beatríz Adriana Pilar Carvajal - Estrada Villca, Naylay Ezekiel Hernan Estrada - Villca Ruiz, and Anamaria Yaamil Quinuama Morales - Estrada Villca. Beatríz marries Lucio Fernando Simoné Carvajal - Silva Estrada, and they have two children: Imelda Constantine Adriana Manuel - Carvajal Estrada and Dominic Simoné Lucio Carvajal - Estrada. Naylay marries Ramona Xiomara Laura Estrada - Ruíz Allard, and they have three children: Remedios Yoselín Magdalena Márquez Estrada Ruiz, Nicolás Raymundo Ezekeil Estrada Ruiz Vargas, and Narcisa Esther Xiomara Mendoza Estrada Ruiz. Anamaria marries Guillermo (listed below), and their only child is Angela Leilani Yaamil Morales Estrada.

On Guillermo’s side of the family there are the great grandparents Enele Aulii Taito and Kanani Sofia Anacoana Taito Flores Tuigamala, Chimalmat Itzamara Morales Canul and Matteo Guillermo Morales Delgado Canul. The two relevant children from these couples are Guillermo’s parents, Leilani Maria Onosa’i Morales - Taito Flores and Babajide Jacobo Matteo Morales - Canul Taito. Guillermo was distant from his family, setting out at a very young age to live with one of his uncles, Enele Kahiau Luis Taito Flores (Leilani’s brother) to learn the trade of raising goats. Enele sadly passed away years before the formation of the Encanto, leaving Guillermo to raise himself on his own since he was 16.

Of Angela’s five cousins (in order of age): Imelda Constantine Adriana Manuel - Carvajal Estrada, Remedios Yoselín Magdalena Márquez Estrada Ruiz, Dominic Simoné Lucio Carvajal - Estrada, Nicolás Raymundo Ezekeil Estrada Ruiz Vargas, and Narcisa Esther Xiomara Mendoza Estrada Ruiz; she is closest to Remedios. Narcisa, despite begin the closest in age, has an odd relationship with Angel from a young age, the two of them mixing like oil and water. Narcisa enjoyed teasing Angela as a child, and they would often get into little fights, sometimes escalating to crying and yanking on each other’s ponytails. Narcisa’s sardonic personality settled with age, and she became much kinder to Angela by the time she’s an adult. Remedios has a….reputation in town for her coquettish behavior and ‘revolving door’ of lovers. Angela is closest to Reme because of the older girl’s honesty and acceptance of things deemed ‘improper.’

Her relationship with her father is difficult to say the least. Guillermo became extremely detached and emotionally distant after the passing of his wife. He’s a man of very few words, even with his family. He’s one of those fathers who doesn’t want their kid to grow up, who would just keep them forever as a child if he could. It stems mainly from the fact that his wife died so young and seeing his daughter surpass his wife’s life breaks his heart.

Some other relationships include her three exes: Roberto Montoya, Aureliano Torres, and Esteban Cesare Moscote Suarez. Roberto is a sweet boy that Angela projected her desire for romance on to when she was 12 (totally based on my own experience of picking a relatively cute boy to have a crush on so I could feel normal) who was exceeding kind to her during their little relationship, but both ultimate decided that it just was not what either of them wanted, and Roberto came out to her saying that he had kind of done the same thing in ‘picking a sweet girl to project his feelings on to.’ Aureliano was the emotionally unavailable son of the cantina owners, who sauntered his way into Angela’s heart with a blasé smirk and several glasses of rum. She broke it off with him when a lie was revealed. Esteban was a seemingly kind gentleman who was the picture of perfection upon meeting him, but evolved into an extremely manipulative and abusive partner that Angela became engaged to after he put her on the spot in front of half the town with a proposal (Don’t worry though, she breaks it off after finding her strength).

I’ve probably talked way too long about this now :)

@encanto-extended-edition

#encanto oc appreciation #encanto #writing #encanto oc #encanto oc event #encanto extended edition #wdihtbm #Angela morales Estrada #bruno my beloved #bruno madrigal x oc #bruno madrigal #mandys drawings #angel morales estrada

[plaguelily-art]

I said I had an art idea for just Ikona, and somehow I managed to actually see that through...even if this took two months to complete (rip, my life has been busy lately).

So yeah! An official art of my design for Ikona. And, I have a handful of assorted headcanons for her as well:

I think she was a kinshi knight, because every one of the Hoshido siblings has access to kinshi knight as a class; also Hinoka's Legendary Hero alt. in FEH has Queen Hinoka as a kinshi knight, with an updated design that mixes the design of the kinshi knight (definitely not Sumeragi's) class and priestess (Mikoto's) class. For Ikona's kinshi knight design I merged the design for kinshi knight with archer/sniper, as I also headcanon that she originally wielded the Fujin Yumi (I know the lore states that the Fujin Yumi was passed down through the royal family, but given that it's a choosy weapon, it might have "chosen" Ikona after she married Sumeragi, or else she may have come from some far-flung branch family).

Ikona was the first person, probably, to show Ryouma, Hinoka, and Takumi the basics of archery, although Takumi took to it more readily. She would have continued to mentor Takumi as he grew older if she had survived long enough to do so.

Ikona shares her hair and eye color with Takumi, and Takumi was the only one to inherit these features (as Ryouma takes strongly after Sumeragi, and Hinoka and Sakura both inherited hair/eye color traits that both Sumeragi and Ikona had, but where recessive; I know hair/eye colors aren't Mendelian per se, but I promise this made some sort of sense when I was trying to map out how everyone's genetic traits might have been inherited). However, Hinoka and Sakura share Ikona's rounder face and eye shape; Ikona was also a bit shorter than Hinoka and a bit taller than Sakura. Takumi and Sakura also share Ikona's straight, silky hair, whereas Ryouma and Hinoka inherited Sumeragi's wild and unruly flyaway hair.

I think in terms of personality, that Takumi and Sakura's anxiety troubles probably came from Ikona (as did Hinoka's shyness as a child). As a notable noble, and later queen, Ikona would have found a way to mask her social anxiety, but it doesn't change the fact that she was much more comfortable around her close friends and family. Ikona probably came off as somewhat awkward or aloof at times as a result though, despite all her etiquette training and careful masking. If she had lived long enough, Ikona might have been able to pass down some techniques to Takumi and Sakura for handling their anxiety.

Ikona could have shared Hinoka's inclinations towards being a warrior, although Ikona would have had the etiquette training to balance this out and mask the fact that she was more comfortable in armor than silks. Ikona's desire to protect others probably led to her untimely death as well (I don't have a solid set of headcanons for this, although I think she probably died before Sumeragi did; stat-wise I think she would have had a glass canon build, with strong offensive capabilities, both physical and magical, and weak defenses--if she was a "dive in to save people" type, her weak defenses would have been Ikona's undoing).

I also think it's possible that either Reina or Yukimura were, at one point, one of Ikona's retainers. I know from a developmental standpoint that Orochi and Reina were originally one character (at least I seem to remember reading that somewhere), and therefore Mikoto would have had Yukimura and Orochi-Reina as her two retainers, rather than having three retainers. And I know Yukimura serves more as Hoshido's tactician rather than a retainer...but I figure if we have the characters to go around, that one of them could have served as one of Ikona's retainers, but survived her death (and made sure the Fujin Yumi returned to the royal family), and that her other retainer died with her.

Ikona fell in love with Mikoto first. I'm not entirely sure how their entire thruple thing worked out eventually, but I feel like Ikona was the first to fall in love. She would have been so awkward about it too.

Not a headcanon, but as an aside I originally planned to have her outfit's color palette feature more oranges, the way her yukata was orange in the first artwork I made of her, but uh...she ended up looking like an orange creamsicle. Using the strong reds that appear in most of the Hoshidan character designs made her look a bit like Inuyasha though, so I eventually settled on more muted pinkish colors. I might change the palette later if I can make the oranges or reds work, but overall I think I like how off this palette feels when compared to most of the Hoshidan palettes. It feels like Ikona was sort of a last-minute thought to the writers, which makes her feel forgotten in the story itself. Ikona having an unusual color palette reflects the fact that she ended up not really getting to be a part of her own family in life or death, and in time became something of an aside even to her own people.

So...yeah! As I've said before, I have a lot of thoughts about fictional dead moms who get shafted by the writers of the stories they're supposed to be a part of. Ikona is no exception, and I really enjoyed coming up with a design for her and trying to weave headcanons to flesh her character out a bit. I've been thinking about her since Fates released, and I'm sure I'll be thinking about her for years to come.

—————————————————————————

2024, Winter (Beginning of Year) Digital (Adobe Photoshop) Design for Ikona is my own. Ikona is a character from the Fire Emblem series, and belong to Intelligent Systems. Artwork belongs to me.

This image (published by the artist to deviantart.com/plaguelily, plaguelily-art.tumblr.com) may not be reproduced, copied, edited, republished, reuploaded, distributed, or redistributed in any way, and I do not give permission for the creation of any sort of derivatives of my work including the use of the work in datasets used for generation of AI art or any other sort of procedurally generated image program or software. Thank you.

#fire emblem #ikona fire emblem #FE14 #fire emblem fates #plaguelily's art