#i apparently like to make characters with hair and skin tones that are very similar

[sunnysam-my]

Hazbin Hotel redesign ideas p. 1

Unfortunately I don't really have time to draw rn, but here are some ideas if anyone is looking for inspiration.

THE VEES:

They follow lates trends so they won't stick to the outfits and technologies from the times they died. We even see that Vox changed his screen (head) to more modern, flat TV screen.

Valentino:

He is a moth that realises poison that's basically a date-rape drug. His wings are hidden, looking like a coat, which makes no sense, a cloak, cape or sleeveless coat would look better. He is a pimp who died in 1970s. Val was Hispanic when living. Apparently, he has bad eyesight.

He is supposed to be a moth, but I don't really see it much, and the furr around his neck, that's a part of his body, just looks ridiculous. I would design him after some actual poisonous moth.

Cinnabar moth - The cinnabar is slate-black with two red spots and two pinky-red stripes on the rounded forewings. Its hindwings are pinky-red and bordered with black. The caterpillars feed on poisonous ragwort leaves. The poison from the leaves is stored in the caterpillar's body and remains even when they are an adult. As adult they leak the poison when they need to. Cinnabar moths can be seen flying during the day and night.

Six-spot burnet moth - day-flying moth that flies with a slow, fluttering pattern. It has glossy black, with six red spots on each narrow, but long forewing. They release hydrogen cyanide when attacked.

Personally I would go with Cinnabar moth, but make the spots heart shaped, and leave his inner outfit without the accessories (the suit with the white pants and golden heart belt). I would also leave his general body type but definitely change the neck furr ring, because wtf is that? I would play around with his glasses since he is supposed to have eyesight problems.

[Edit: Actually, I would make him a combo of both moths and make the furr ring his hair, because he is bald without the hat!?!?]

Velvette:

Velv is a fashion designer and critic, she is also an influencer. She keeps the Vees together and their image fresh on the internet. She's a British black woman in her early 30's. Originally her appearance was supposed to be doll-like, but that was changed to 'it-girl' and a 'bad bitch' with a darker aesthetic.

Velvette's outfit is reminiscent of Val's (heart belt, coat with hearts, black stripes on arms) but darker, especially her sleeveless coat that imitates his wings. Since Valentino is already going to be darker (in my idea) and she is a fashion influencer it would make more sense for her to be brighter.

Main thing I would change about her is her skin tone, hair, and Harley Quinn themes left from her old design.

When creating very human like characters it's important to actually get the racial characteristics right. Her ashy skin and "curly" hair just makes it look like they didn't know how to draw a black character. I would give her a different texture, something between 3A and 4B. A hairstyle like heart shaped space buns would be so cool, but even if not, her styl in a poster in the background is already better than the ponytails.

When it comes to her style I would get rid of pom-poms shoes and fingerless gloves. Her outfit for meeting the overlord was pretty okay, but I would change her other outfit. My inspiration would be PidginDoll's design, because he makes fabulous outfits and makeup looks for all bodies, genders and races, but I'll keep the 'goth' (it's not goth, it's just a little bit alt, mostly skulls) theme.

Blue accents like makeup would work great with her brown skin and would reference Vox.

Vox:

I genuinely think he has the best design in the entirety of the show, I would barely change anything. His outfit is similar to Alastor who he is trying to imitate, but he wears a tail suit, which is way more formal and elegant than any other suit, trying to showing he is a better, modern version of Alastor. I've seen some people got rid of his hat and gave him a tail made out a cord for fun, but other than that his design is good. Not too much details and not too little, tells us a lot about the character.

Maybe less stripes, because apparently Viv loves zebras or something. /hj

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel redesign #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #the vees #hazbin hotel valentino #hazbin hotel velvette #hazbin hotel vox #hazbin hotel fanart

[astroluvr]

oooohh how about a fluffy joel where reader works in the garden or something jacksonville and she's a little bit younger than joel and so soft and sweet and he's nervos to ask her out :(((((

From the Garden

pairing: joel miller x reader

word count: 2.6k, not proofread

a/n: this is my first joel miller fic, and i hope it lands well! i'm very open to suggestions, given that i've like never written for characters before, but i am very excited to share this & write more. my requests are open, and i hope you enjoy!

***

Everyone could see the tragedy and strife of Joel’s past and present deep in the lines of his wrinkles, and the fight he’d put up to make it to a place where he could know anything even resembling peace was apparent on the rough skin of his knuckles that seemed to rest in fists. After twenty years, and experiencing the unimaginable in the most literal sense, the last place Joel would’ve thought he’d end up in was Jackson. With a little girl on his tail that he was still trying to figure out what to do with- in the most affectionate of ways.

It took him a while to settle, though, to stop grimacing at everyone that crossed his path and holding onto his pocketknife that he kept in his front pocket when anyone got too close to Ellie or himself. He was quiet, reserved, remaining in the tiny house Tommy and Maria set him up in until it was time to go on patrol- a past time he quite looked forward to, but would never admit. He liked having the balance, knowing that he could go out and do something without it being for his survival, knowing that he was needed and helpful, and then being able to go back into the tall walls and lay in a warm bed where he could sleep without jeans.

Which is why the surprise that rippled through the community when you were seen leaving the dining hall with Joel was easy to imagine. You were young when the outbreak happened, not young enough that you couldn’t remember, but young enough to not have lost as much as Joel did. You didn’t have so much life under your belt just yet, given that it was just you and your mother, she was able to get you two to protection rather quickly. After she passed just a few years ago, you were out on your own, but luckily enough stumbled upon Jackson.

You can remember the first day that you met Ellie and Joel. You were settled in Jackson for a good while before you saw Joel Miller, word got around that he was Tommy’s brother, and you immediately felt a sense of trust being that Tommy and Maria took you under their wings and still kept you close. It was Ellie that came out of that little home first, who bumped into you while she was chasing a group of kids a little younger than her.

“Oh!” You gasped, a bundle of tomatoes tumbling from the woven basket and onto the dirt ground.

“Oh, shit!” Ellie said at the same time, and your eyes widened slightly at the language, but you couldn’t help but chuckle. “Shit, sorry. I mean, sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You said quietly, grabbing as many of the tomatoes as you could. Ellie was a little clumsy, dropping more than she could pick up.

“Ellie!”

The demanding tone of the voice was enough to make you pause in your movements, too, looking at the approaching figure in a thick pair of jeans and blue button up, similar to your denim jeans that were so worn they’d become soft, paired with a flannel over a white tank top.

Joel approached the both of you quickly, and Ellie rolled her eyes before standing up, dropping a few of the fruits back into the basket. “Chill out, Joel!”

“What are you doin’?” He stood a foot or so away with his hands on hips and you struggled to keep your eyes off him. “Shit, ‘m sorry about Ellie.”

“Who said I did anything?!” Joel looked to you silently, and you shrugged your shoulders towards Ellie who kicked at the ground and muttered, “I apologized.”

“She did.” You stood up to face Joel and realized that he was a lot bigger than you thought he was. Closer to him, the white hairs that littered his beard and hair were a lot more obvious, and somehow made him more handsome. “And it’s okay, I was carrying way too many to begin with.”

“Alright, let me help you. You’re takin’ ‘em to the dining hall, right?”

“You don’t have to help me… Joel.” You were hesitant to say his name, but Joel didn’t show any sign of uncertainty when he bent down to pick up your basket, turning around and starting the trek to the dining hall.

From that point forward, the three of you were your own little group. Ellie would often skip her classes to come help in the garden, and when Joel wasn’t patrolling, he’d conveniently just be passing by the garden and ask if you’d need help with anything imaginable. Over the past few months, he’d become your best friend, your closest confidante, but he also wasn’t the most emotionally intelligent person out there. It was easy for you to tell Joel about your frustrations, and he’d nod and try to offer some words of sage advice, that would ultimately be met with an eye roll, but it always pained him to see you so upset- especially when it was out of anyone’s control.

Joel knew you’d been upset over a few pests in the garden that were slowly ruining a small portion of the crop. It wasn’t quite anything to panic over, but it still tacked on a lot more stress to your daily load, and it was significantly dampering your mood.

“Hey.” Joel said behind the white picket fence and you turned to face him, standing up and brushing your hands on the knees of your overalls.

“Hi, Joel. You alright?”

He nodded as he opened the fence and walked through. You frowned when you noticed how tired he was, and you were ready to invite him for a break, but Joel seemed hellbent on making his way into the garden with the heavy tote in hand.

“I’m fine.” He grunted, and you smiled tiredly at him. “Hey, did you ever figure out what’s eating at your plants?”

Joel always called anything that came from the garden yours, as if you were tending to each plant for your own gain, and not having it hauled away to the dining hall. You shrugged, and kicked at the ground, pretending that there wasn’t a mound of no-good kale in the corner of the garden.

You’d been too freaked out to tell Maria, worried that she might kick you out of Jackson or something worse, and Joel was the first and only person to hear of any of those concerns. The look on your face and the wild look of worry in your eyes scared him at first when you nearly ran into him when you got to his house. It had only been a couple of days now, but you were still plagued.

“No. I- I mean, I know what it is. They’re just little pests that have found their way in- I don’t know how. I-”

Joel couldn’t stand to watch you wring your hands for another moment before he finally took the tote from his shoulder to set it on the ground and pulled out a plastic red canister. You looked down at the little thing, and back up at Joel.

“It’s- It’s pesticide. I got it on patrol today. It shouldn’t be too harmful to the plants, but it is old, so I’d be careful with it. Also, not much.” You bent down slightly to pick it up, and look at the words across the label, before beaming at Joel in shock.

“Oh, my goodness, Joel!” You squealed, bouncing on your toes a little before giggling. “Oh, thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

Every part of you dissipated except for your heart and eyes on Joel. You let your hands, your body, your mind take over you, and you cupped Joel’s cheeks, feeling chills strike you as the hair on his chin pricked your fingers.

Before Joel could speak or react, his own hands met your waist as you kissed him. You and Joel had never touched ever besides the light guiding hand to your lower back. This was different. It was electric, it was months and months of wanting for the both of you. When you finally came to your senses at the feeling of Joel’s fingers digging deeper into your flesh, you tried to pull away for a breath, but he only deepened the kiss.

When you two finally pulled apart only a second or so later, it was like seeing you took away all of Joel’s passion, and you never wanted to feel the way you felt under his gaze in that moment ever again. You never wanted to feel his hands leaving your body and running across his face as he cursed under his breath.

“Joel, I’m sorry.” You whispered, pulling your lip between your teeth. “I wasn’t thinking straight, and-”

“I’ve gotta go.” He licked his lips as he turned around, and you clasped your fingers together.

“Joel-”

“It’s not your fault.” He said over his shoulder, his eyes avoiding the canister and your face.

You stood in the garden feeling more confused than ever. You aggressively wiped at the tears that sat at your waterline, kicking at the canister. You hated yourself, hated yourself for thinking that Joel could ever feel the fire you felt when you were around each other, when he would look at you with a tired smile after you laughed at one of Ellie’s lame jokes, or when he would sit out on his porch with you after the both of you had a long day.

You shouldn’t have been surprised, you thought, in a world where you could never have anything you truly wanted, you certainly would never have Joel.

Joel wasn’t sure what it was about you, but something about you reminded him of his past the same way that Ellie did. As bittersweet as it was, he couldn’t help but imagine that maybe, just maybe, if the outbreak had never happened, you two would’ve still found a way to be together. Maybe you’d be running a florist shop, and he’d run into you on his way to some contracting gig with Tommy. Or at least that’s how he liked to imagine it.

Ever since that evening, Joel wasn’t himself. Or at least, the version that everyone had grown used to. He was still grumpy, and grunted more than he spoke, but he wasn’t letting bullshit slide as much as usual. When he had to go on patrol, he was focused on the mission, getting there and back. He didn’t make conversation as usual, or slow down to look at anything that seemed interesting. At dinner, he ate alone, only keeping a close eye on Ellie as she schemed with the other kids her age, As much as he would always counter against, it always found its way to you, watching as you always angled your body away from him and talked to the other members of the community.

It felt like a never-ending game, and for some reason, neither of you were ready to throw in the towel.

“This is stupid.” Ellie finally gave in, grabbing Joel’s hand on their way home.

“Ellie, what are you doing?”

“You’re going to talk to Y/N!”

Joel stopped short, snatching his hand from Ellie’s grip. “Stop it, Ellie.”

“What happened between you two? You love her.”

Joel bristled at the accusation, frowning deeply in his thick jacket as he rolled his eyes. “You don’t know shit about this.”

“I don’t-” Ellie turned to face him and scoffed before blinking exaggeratedly. “Look, you were literally the only human I had contact with for, I don’t want to know how long, so I know you, Joel. I can tell that you like her.”

“I get along with her.” Joel admitted, doing his best to get out of the conversation. “I just… I don’t want her getting attached. This world is too unpredictable, and she doesn’t get that. I can’t give her all this time and attention when I know it won’t last. I know you’re too young to get what I’m sayin’, but I can’t do it, Ellie. I won’t do this to her.”

Joel was forming a nasty habit of turning his back before he could realize he was doing it. He knew this wasn’t one of those things that Ellie would badger about, it was an argument about fish or ravioli for dinner, this was about something that mattered to her, too.

Joel was alone for a few hours before he got a knock at the door. It was closer to dawn than dusk now, and he was about to give up on waiting for Ellie. He stood up from the creaking reclining chair, rubbing the crook in his neck to get ready to scold the girl for running rowdy in the quiet community, but he was greeted with a surprise.

You stood before him in a large sweater, worn and faded, with a pair of tights on your legs. You looked tired and confused, as if you weren’t sure what bought you here. Joel didn’t greet you as he usually would, with a smile and short nod before sliding out of the way to let you in. Instead, you received eyebrows raised in surprise and his large frame blocking the light behind him.

“Ellie told me that you wanted to see me. She was with those girls she’s usually with.”

“Oh, I-” You cut him off quickly, wringing your hands nervously.

“We don’t have to talk about it. I get that you’re mad at me, and you probably never want to look at me again, so if you were calling me over to tell me that, then I appreciate your honesty. I’ll leave now.”

Joel couldn’t take that glimmering look in your eye and the way it seemed like you could hardly stand to look at him.

“Come in.”

“Joel, really, you don’t have to be nice about it. It was my fault; I shouldn’t have made a move on you like that. I’m sorry.”

“Would you stop apologizing and come in, so I don’t have to kiss you out here?” Joel could practically see all the air in your body trade places with shock after he spoke, and he didn’t have to repeat himself to get you stepping into his warm home.

You didn’t say anything when he shut the door and walled you up against it with his body. He bent at the knees to make eye contact with you, and for the first time in a long time, he didn’t ache because of it.

His hands, large and rough, held your face and you were close enough for your noses to brush.

“Why are you scared of me, Joel?”

“Scared of hurtin’ you.” He whispered, his chest rising and falling with anticipation. “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I did.”

“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried.”

“I already did, but I’m gonna spend a long time making up for it.”

A smile graced your lips, and Joel couldn’t wait to kiss you. A giggle bounced between you, and it wasn’t clear who it belonged to. When you two broke apart, Joel almost couldn’t believe it. It’s been so long since he’d even touched another person like this, and he couldn’t believe that after so long, he was lucky enough to have you.

He wasn’t sure when you went from the door to the couch, but he did remember hearing the lock turn with you laying on top of him, your face in the crook of his neck with his hand on the small of your back. He lifted his head up slightly just in time to see Ellie walk through the door with a smile on her face.

“Did Y/N stop by?” she asked, and Joel hushed her quickly, earning a wide grin from Ellie. “I’m a fucking genius.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Joel laid back down, closing his eyes as Ellie dropped a thick quilt blanket over the two of you.

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #tlou hbo #joel miller x reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller the last of us #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #boyfriend!joel

[sn0wbat]

a row of einarrs because.... why not tbh.

honestly i just wanted to have a reference for his hair and skin colors at different ages. he changed a bit

details under cut

toddler

born very light blond

still very baby

child

hair may start darkening, as is usual with most natural blondes.

turned out to be surprisingly good at sewing, placing him with the women at an earlier age than usual. :^)

he was trying to give his dress a more masculine tunic cut, because he liked it more for some reason. unfortunately, he did it maybe a little too well.

still a bit clueless about his gender situation, but Something Felt Off

really liked roleplaying... you will never guess what gender all his best characters were. (boys. they were all boys.)

teen

so apparently lye bleach was a thing?? anyway he probably did that with his hair at this point.

came out as a boy 🏳️‍⚧️

going by einarr for real now

father immediately accepted him, mother not so much.

constantly wearing an oversized capelet over his entire torso because he was dysphoric as hell.

fledgling vampire (age 24-40)

ah, the hubris of exploring on his own while the rest of the group were trying to pillage this mysteriously empty castle. it's an old ruin. and those just intrigue him a lot. they are fascinating to him

anyway so basically he ran into a vampire while going viking. ended up in a duel. died.

in his early vampire years, his growing bat form's white fur started to overtake his existing hair color. kinda similar to graying hair.

once he realized how hardy vampires were, did top surgery on himself with a sword.

then he had to stitch himself up. with his existing sewing skills - a skillset deemed to be very feminine at the time. something poetic about that i feel

stuck in a castle. doesn't escape until he's like 50

middle vampire (age 200-700)

hair has already gone fully pale a long time ago.

skin is getting paler. more purple in tone.

ears are slowly growing in size, gaining transparency along with it

however, has also figured out how to blend in with humans again at this time (through vampiric illusions that make him look mortal)

peasant for a while. growing dislike of kings and authority figures. ends up joining the pirates in his seventh (?) century

has been caught drinking blood from humans, has been caught stealing from the rich, and has been to jail several times. usually escaped pretty easily with vampire powers. has been responsible for at least one mass jailbreak

the look of his clothing actually shifted a lot over all these centuries, but this art wasn't really focused on clothes, so i just picked something basic

ancient vampire (900+)

skin gone blue. fangs gone long.

ears reached their max size a while ago.

gotten quite nostalgic; started to wear norse-style clothing in his own time again. it's comfy and familiar!

among the mortals it has been many centuries of trying to match contemporary fashions. genuinely enjoys working with textiles though, so it's no big deal. yeah he still does this.

cannot keep up a human disguise for more than a couple hours... maintaining an illusion gets exhausting when it's so many things at once.

mostly goes for fish blood these days. it's not the greatest blood, but he likes the taste of it the most and it's less of a hassle to get when he's at sea all the time.

avoids the greater vampire community. he feels it's too much drama all the time, all while they just tend to think of him as a hermit, and well. they're not wrong.

has been known to take some odd jobs here and there, pretending to be mortal.

i did not actually intend to write down this much but!! i just like him a lot. gotta stop myself from writing too much. there's so much more i could say about him, but we'd be here forever

#low stakes 🦇 #my art #sure vampires can age but it's really really really slow #he turned at like 24. he's over a thousand years old now #i'd assume he'd look at least a little more mature at this point #no this is not supposed to be his entire history but i got a bit carried away writing this so you get a good chunk of it anyway

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Killer Croc Backstory

Howdy, I got like three different asks about Killer Croc/Waylon Jones so we are going to delve into his background really quick for this blog for the sake of clarification. I'm taking less from the original "atavism" story since that genuinely isn't how that would work with a mammalian human and making it more about a genetic condition. Again, there's lots of different backstories for comic characters, this is just my personal take. Hope you enjoy!

Tw: child abuse/neglect, ableism, brief mention of cannibalism, murder, alcoholism

- Waylon was born a relatively "normal" child to Jean and Evangelique Jones in a small Louisiana town. They both noticed even as a baby he had this strange amber tint to those big brown eyes. Other than that and some scaly skin on his thighs, no one suspected there was anything particularly abnormal.

- Yet as he grew, more and more scales would appear on his skin. At first they matched the warm brown tone of his skin, but would start to turn green during puberty (when the scaling got out of control). His eyes became more yellow with each passing year of his life. When his teeth grew in, they were all sharp.

- It was determined to be a very rare genetic condition, passed down that skipped several generations. Waylons father left when it became apparent there was no cure. Despite being from a good sized family, none of them wanted anything to do with the child. In their small superstitious town, his mother was called a witch by some. That this was her punishment for not living a Godly life.

- This resulted in his mother being isolated in her community which turned inward and led to a lot of neglect, alcoholism, and dropping him off on his grandparents.

- some of his earliest real memories was listening to his grandmother Babette singing to him in French. He'd speak in whispered Cajun French to his grandfather James when they'd walk early morning markets hand in hand.

- For a long time they'd be the only ones to tell him the truth- that it was inherited. No one's fault and there's nothing "wrong" with him.

- great-great grandfather was actually similar to Waylon but not as tall. His grandmother would tell him she didn't know him well because he died young. Waylon would later find out he was murdered in his bed shortly after his son was born. His great grandfather had scales on his back he could hide and sharp nails he always cut back. Waylon was just unlucky in the genetic roulette.

- it wasn't surprising when Waylon found out about the murder. There were plenty of times other kids would get a hold of him alone and he himself thought he was going to die.

- Puberty was when he got big, his voice got gravelly, and the scales took over. By the time he was 15, 95% of his body was scaled over. He couldn't even grow hair on his head anymore, tight black curls replaced with almost bony ridges.

- Shortly after, he started fighting back with the bullies. One fight, he tore open another teenagers arm with his claws by accident, which resulted in his expulsion from school. He was spending less and less time with his grandparents due to his mother trying to "take control" of her son.

- She kicked him out at 17 to fend for himself and guilted him to not ask his grandparents for help. They didn't need "him around ruining their lives, too."

- It should be noted many years later, he and his mother made up and grew a relationship after a lot of healing, forgiveness and acknowledgement that how she treated him was wrong even if she was in a rough situation. He can call back home and talk to his grandparents (who now live with mom and her husband) in French for hours. But that's unfortunately much later in the timeline.

- He tried to find some hard labor jobs but nothing really stuck. Eventually, he got hired on as a wrestler for a traveling show. This is when he started drinking. For years he got used to the call of: "And in this corner, from the bayous of Louisiana- Killer Croc!"

- Genuinely it pissed him off no one even asked what he wanted to be called- "I told that couyon announcer there aren't even crocodiles in Louisianna!" But it stuck.

- even once he fell into crime. Wasn't hard, when you were barely making enough to survive. He ended up justifying a lot of horrible things he did as revenge for the way people treated him or as "just survival." He grew to like the taste of blood and picking people out of his teeth. The savagery. A more animalistic side of himself.

- Then it all just became a cycle. Drink, commit violence, go to prison or Arkham. Drink, commit violence, go to prison or Arkham. On a brief relapse he managed to get his GED in Arkham (Edward Nygma helped on threat of being eaten). Then it was drink, drink, commit violence and back where he started.

- it would take a while before he'd kick the alcohol and try to live a somewhat normal life. While he's perhaps not completely reformed in all aspects, he's very different than he once was and better for it.

#killer croc #waylon jones #hc #foxwriting #queue

[cidthesquid]

My Debut! - MODEL Debut 3 #nicola

Trying a New fashion game today! Also, Happy Valentine's Day! If you don't have someone special to spend it with, try to at least do something fun for yourself! I'm going to be spending my day trying a new fashion game!

I've seen a few clips of this, And heard it's "the best fashion game on switch!", (Released around the same time as 'Fashion Dreamer') With the only drawback being it's only available in Japanese. So We probably won't be sticking with this too long, but let's get started! ---- Alright, it looks like we just passed our audition, and we're trying to decide what to do next... and wow.. Google Translate is really struggling with this game...

That's fine, fashion is an international language,

Ok, time to create my usual character...and..oh...

Is that really the darkest skin tone? I know this game is made for japan, but really? Style Savvy Ds had more options, and so did Fab Style on the DS/3ds They have a million eye designs, and a full RGB slider for hair colors, But for skin, all you get is a very mild tan :-/

Oh well, hmm this is interesting, they have a dedicated eye size/positioning section.

Three presets for each, eyebrow height, eye height, eye size, and pupal size. It may feel a little limiting, but that's a bit more control than style savvy/fashion dreamer, without overwelmming the player,.

Here's my final character design: (I hope they let me edit it later)

Okay outfit time!

Wow, this game has full layering, bags, and lets you equip multiple accessories! Even though the starting options are limited, the fact that you can (as silly as it sounds) wear a neckless under a scarf. Means you have more freedom than the older style savvy games! (even if I still prefer the outfit designs in SS)

wow there is a lot of dialogue in this game...

umm, I just wanted to have fun making outfits, what is all of this?

Ok, so I guess this is the SS 'Photo studio' equant:

You can't move the camera, but you can adjust the pose, expression and background. (real backgrounds in a game like this look pretty weird. You'll also have added controls for head position and gaze direction:

Anyways, with our first photo shoot out of the way, we now get to see the world map:

our only option is to go to the studio, so lets start there: And once we arrive, we're given a few jobs to choose from:

I really don't know what any of these mean, so we'll go with the 'Cherry blossom viewing coordination' as I think that may just mean "style using pink", maybe?

Nope, it looks like they want me to dress in a casual top for work, Luckily everything is labeled here, so you can just scroll over an item and check the tags.

I'm not sure if all items need to match or we just need something that fits the theme, so let's try this:

This is cute, but apparently dresses don't count for the 'casual top' category, (I should have guessed.)

Let's Try again...

Nope, They're still complaining about the "illustration, I'll need to look that up..." ok, I found a fantastic video from the youtuber "HamsterButtocks", and watched the start of her playthrough. Turns out, you need both tags shown to mach the item in question, so, we'll use the search function to find a top that matches both requirements.

And here we go!

Next up is posing and framing and we're done!

Once you complete the job you get points to 'rank up' as a model, and you get little NPC comments on your post.

And it looks like once we get further in, we'll eventually unlock some fashion show type event:

So very interesting, I should have guessed from the game's title, But unlike Style Savvy and Fashion Dreamer, this game seems to be exclusively about modeling, and dressing up your own character, rather than helping others find their own sense of style. That's fine, and it's a neat idea, Style Savvy Fashion Forward ad a similar event, but I'm not sure how I'd feel about sticking with a full game based around that. I'm still super early on, and I'm sure tons more options will unlock as I go, but this seems to be the core gameplay loop. I had fun trying it out, and I may go back later, But for now, I have to work on the new fashion dreamer event that just went live, and I still have to finish Style Savvy: trendsetters, so I got plenty of stuff to do! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed another entry in my weird fashion game blog!

#fashion game #switch #style #MODEL Debut 3 #nicola #フリュー株式会社

[blackbird0blog]

Naruto Fanfic Recs

A great crack OC/SI-insert. I just wish there was more!

Summary:

Being somehow reincarnated into a world you previously thought was fictional and is filled with bullshit ninja magic killers isn't fun. It is even less fun to find out that any foreknowledge you may have been able to use to your advantage is pretty much as useless as your ability to quote pop culture references like a champ.

Preview:

Once upon a time, a long, long time ago, and very, very far away, I did not have to deal with this shit. This kind of language may shock you, but while I look like an adorable eight year old, in actuality I have almost twenty eight years of experience and the temperament of a crotchety old man. If I had a lawn – oh man you can bet no one would be stepping on it.

I raise a darkly tanned hand to the sunlight and sigh, blowing a wisp of blue hair out of my face. I had initially been overjoyed upon realizing that I had maintained a relatively similar skin tone to my original body. My curly hair also returned for a second round. But, of course, I cannot have nice things.

I may be in an anime, but my hair color is just ridiculous. I have blue hair. When I say blue, I mean blindingly bright HEY I’M RIGHT HERE CAN YOU SEE ME I will burn out your eyes aqua blue. Not even the nice shade of blue main characters get. It is pretty awful. And with this whole ninja gig it’s probably gonna get me killed.

Oh, yes. Ninjas.

Lucky me, I was reborn in the Narutoverse. Apparently. Huzzah.

Honestly, this was not a hit my already waning sanity could really afford. Not only was I pushed on into reincarnation instead of facing the pearly gates, but I found out I was spit out into a supposedly fictional world.

I mean, after a couple months of my baby self drooling all over myself, I could kinda get over it. The whole “reincarnation” thing. Well, as long as I never think about my family, all my friends-

-painpainwhyaretheygonecomeback-

-Yeah. As in, can’t think about that at all. Ever.

…Hm, where were we?

Ah, yes. Basically, I can get over the whole “reincarnated” part. Not so much the whole “living in a military state that fully endorses the use of child soldiers and freedom is a thing of the past” part. I am an American. I was practically suckled on the sweet nectar of freedom.

(I may no longer take myself or life in general seriously. If you hadn’t guessed.)

One must also consider the blazingly ridiculous things that happen to this world. I could only stomach so much bunny goddess before I was out. Like, how would I even go about fighting half of these things without OP to the max abilities? Well I’m not planning on it, so I suppose it’s a moot point.

To put this in perspective, while it has some relative good points, I really dislike most of the Leaf’s dictatorship, freedom sucking, shove-you-full-of-propaganda self. My life is in ruin.

I sigh again and gaze at my elevated hand, “Poor Yorick. Alas, alas.”

Hm. What was the rest of that quote?

I hear a sigh, “Miki-kun, please stop interrupting class.”

I look up and see Iruka-sensei staring at me, his gaze slightly pained. His hand is frozen half-way in his now habitual motion of massaging the bridge of his nose. Ah, that poor man. He is some of most fun I have in this life. I can’t help but feel a bit bad though. The only other kid that gets his blood pressure this worked up in Naruto.

Even then he tends to resort straight to yelling with that one. I can tell he doesn’t know how to deal with me. I’m too out of the norm from what he’s used to. My personality, or mostly my seeming babbling words, tends to put most people off kilter. I don’t make many friends this way. But I also tend to be able to do whatever the hell I want without much censure. Are you going to talk sense into crazy?

I blink guilelessly, my arm still posed in the air, seeming to be ignorant to the stares of the whole class. The kid next to me slowly scoots away. I say, “Ah, sensei, I am very sorry. I’m sure no one could concentrate, that having been such a half hearted recital. Perhaps again…”

I sit up straight as if to project my words, but only get out an “Ala-” (ah, now that I think of it, “Alas” goes first, right?) before being cut off.

“NO, no, that’s just- fine. Miki-kun. Please keep further comments in your head unless they are related to class.”

The rest of the class laughs as I bob my head complacently. I consider the pros of telling him why the works of Shakespeare are relevant to all matters of life, but decide not to push him. Iruka-sensei is a good guy all things considered. I don’t like to mess with him too much.

Too much.

He goes on to lecture about whatever this class is on. I think I’m in history. It would be super interesting if the amount of propaganda being shoved down my throat didn’t make me want to choke. Like, this is North Korea level of censorship right here. I’m kinda surprised we don’t pray to the first Hokage, given how much he’s propped up in our books. To the point he is literally called the god of shinobi. Then again, I guess the appointment of real Ninja God goes to the Sage.

I mean, it’s not that I think all the facts in this damn book are straight wrong. If Konoha wins (we always win), it’s recorded as a win. If we lose (Konoha has a history of very few tactical retreats), we lose. This happened then. These institutions were established here. The spin they put on everything is what makes me dizzy.

“The honorable first Hokage singlehandedly brought the entire world of shinobi out of the dark ages. He established Konoha and brought prosperity to the land, making a safe haven for all of her citizens. Now it is your turn to uphold the First’s Will of Fire and keep Konoha safe for the generations to come. Blah, blah, blah.”

Come on, the textbooks tell you to do things. This is not even trying to look like unbiased learning. It hurts us.

Most of the cultural and historical stuff goes like this in every book available to civilians and academy students. I can’t vouch for stuff available to ninja level, but it’s overall disappointing. Having been an International Studies major, cultural stuff is kinda what I do. Did. Whatever.

I can piece stuff together from what I knew previously and what I can get wading through politically charged texts, but it’s not easy going. If I had been a Clan Kid I may have been able to get my dirty paws on some choice info, but no such luck. You’re looking at an Oliver Twist. Olivia Twist? I still can’t quite grasp the state of gender equality here. Kunoichi are generally badass, but a significantly less amount fill out the forces. In fact-

I’m ripped from my musings by the ring of the bell. The kids quickly fling themselves from their seats and run to the door, ignoring whatever Iruka is trying to yell over them. The kid next to me seems particularly eager. I casually take a look at my hand and see that I had accidentally been carving pieces of wood from my desk. Again. Oops. Time to go before sensei notices.

I push my hands against my mutilated desk and attempt to casually mosey my way to the door. I skip down the steps, not trying particularly hard to avoid the stragglers. I take a glance at Iruka out of the corner of my eye. My inattention causes me to bump into someone. Red fills my sight.

Small hands quickly push me away, causing me to stumble. Bright blue eyes glare into my brown ones, and a sharp tooth scowl fills my vision. “Hey, watch where you’re going!” Uzumaki Naruto growls at me, his spiky red hair disheveled.

Ah yes, did I forget to mention that Naruto has red hair and the plot is shot to hell and back?

Silly me.

#self insert #comedy #naruto fanfiction #fanfic rec #crack fic #crack taken seriously

[basingstokemercury]

Yet more weird dream diary:

At first some Harry Potter stuff was going on. Won't elaborate because it was very very violent and these are child characters. Bad subconscious.

Eventually it's become a murder mystery. Simon Tam is dead in a shopping mall's basement (very unpleasantly, some combination of strangulation and broken neck to judge from the injuries). I'm the unofficial detective trying to figure out what happened to my... boyfriend? were we dating? Necromancy may or may not have been involved, I'm pretty sure he woke up at some point.

And then everything changes yet again.

Picard's Enterprise, but we have two extra crew members.

One is Chiana. The other... Some kind of reverse Chiana but not quite?

She has black hair, the same style as Chiana. Her eyes are the same black. She's slightly taller, and her skin tone is that of a pale human - wait a minute, was this some distortion of Aeryn? I believe she wore all black leather too, in a similar style to Chiana.

Her name is Zuri, which is especially strange because that is a name I only know from a side character who appeared in about three episodes of Grimm, and whose storyline didn't make very much of an impression on me. I guess she had a bob cut.

And there's the ship's doctor. I don't know what her name was. She had Crusher's face, but her hair was blonde and longer/wavier, and she might have been a bit younger. V, crawling out of my forgetful mind for once?

Anyway, this is the away team, plus Picard. They go down to a planet. But oops! The people here have history with Chiana! She neglected to mention this! They want revenge!

I'm not sure what the planet-people do. Something that only makes sense by Farscape logic, but it's definitely bad.

So the crew is lying there, probably about to die any moment, and Doctor starts telling Picard about her son.

He's about eleven, and he looks like... Well, conveniently, my subconscious just pulled up a picture I'd seen quite a few times.

This is Enterprise Doctor's son:

So yeah. Apparently that's who she is. Funny, I didn't remember his mother being a doctor too. I can't remember what she looked like either, and I can't seem to find any reference pictures. Oh well.

#farscape #star trek the next generation #firefly

[ffxiv-screenshot-bin]

#ffxiv #joye amariyo #nyx natalya #miqo'te #keeper of the moon #final fantasy xiv #you know ive noticed something #i apparently like to make characters with hair and skin tones that are very similar #dunno why #maybe i like making it difficult for people to see their eyebrows lol #since they blend in #well not nyx #ff14 #final fantasy 14

[proudfreakmetarusonniku]

@sajdd

Ok since one singular person asked for this the Big Explanation for Everything In My C!Tommy Design.

General:

c!Tommy, in general, I always try and find a balance between my really soft style and c!Tommy's rougher personality. I draw him with soft features but very sharp eyes, both to make his facial features distinct from cc!Tommy and a contrast to c!Tubbo who I draw with less rounded features but much softer eyes. I try and keep his usual expressions slightly smug and self-assured, to get across c!Tommy's bravado.

I generally draw him with tanned skin, as I imagine he’d spend a lot of time outdoors. This does vary on the arc I’m drawing him in, though, for example he’s much less tan in Pogtopia because he has less access to natural light whereas he’s more tan in exile due to not having much shelter from the sun. This is also done to make the pale scar on his nose bridge more noticeable- it’s one of the two scars I draw Tommy as having from the beginning, as I feel it shows c!Tommy's scrappy, determined personality very well. The other scar is a long jagged vivisection scar which is there to show my labinnit headcanon lol.

While I draw c!Tommy with varying hairstyles and lengths, I always draw him with curly textured hair that’s a very pale blond. I also draw his hair as leaning to one side and partially covering his eye, similar to how I draw c!Wilbur's hair, to show their closeness. I also draw c!Tommy with similar wings to c!Wilbur and c!Philza- specifically, I draw them with the same starry night sky pattern I do with c!Philza, but a lot smaller and atrophied.

I really like putting lots of fun design elements in characters eyes because drawing eyes is fun and c!Tommy is no exception! I draw his eyes a very bright electric blue, and I use a small brush and very light varied colours to make them look like they’re filled with little stars. I also give him red pupils to match his main colour association in either the shape of a full or broken heart depending on the arc. I went with a heart design to show his hidden kindness and loyalty.

There’s also a lot of design elements that are admittedly there primarily because I enjoy drawing them, and less for any specific reason. The fangs do have the most reason, to help show c!Tommy's rougher personality, but I also just like drawing fangs lol. (I also draw him with braces in every arc, since I imagine he couldn’t get them removed in exile and he didn’t have the time to care afterwards). I also draw him with bioluminescent, starlike freckles and a strange blood colour which is also used to help texture the skin (well, slightly, it’s not super noticeable but it’s pink instead of red) which are both just things I like to draw.

Also, this is a small detail, but I always draw c!Tommy with a Church Prime necklace (unless I forget it which I do sometimes lol). It’s a good way of showing his faith through a quick look.

Fun fact, what’s probably most noticeable about my c!Tommy design is that as soon as Tommy made the joke about his character being made in a lab I picked it up and ran with it, specifically the idea of him potentially being a clone of c!Philza. I draw them with identical facial features and hair colour/texture, though a lot of the more supernatural features of c!Philza are toned down on him. That’s specifically because due to my hc that c!Philza is an angel and angels as ageless it’d be impossible to clone them exactly so c!Tommy has some random human/hybrid dna thrown in haphazardly (which also makes him a mess of instincts from pretty much every animal ever lol)

Disc War:

I really like the headcanon that c!Tommy was nine during the L'Manburg war entirely because its really funny to imagine c!Wilbur looking at this literal nine year old and being “yes, my right hand man, responsible enough to help manage a nation in my stead,” so c!Tommy is roughly 9ish around this time in my design.

During the early Disc War is probably the only time I actually draw c!Tommy as close to his actual Minecraft skin lmao. It helps show that, despite the fact I don’t hc him as human he is mostly just a normal kid. I don’t draw c!Tommy in the traditional red and white t-shirt entirely just because I want to make sure he’s not mistakable for Dave Strider though. I have him in a white button-up shirt, a red and white hoodie, cargo pants, and trainers.

During this arc, I draw c!Tommy's hair as fairly short and very similar to how I draw c!Wilbur, as this was back when he idolised his brother and I think drawing their hair so similar shows that well.

L'Manburg:

This covers the time from the beginning of the L'Manburg war up to c!Tommy's second exile to Pogtopia, so this design covers a period of years from when I hc c!Tommy was nine up until about thirteen.

During the war, c!Tommy wears his uniform without modification, except for of course wearing his Prime necklace, but afterwards he and the rest of the residents of L'Manburg (except c!Wilbur) slightly modified their uniforms to better fit their own tastes. Specifically, he wears his trainers instead of combat boots, loose trousers instead of shorts, and a slightly shorter and short-sleeved revolutionary jacket, for easier mobility.

During the war, his two canon deaths left him permanent injuries and scars. His death in the final control room, where he broke his leg during his desperate attempt to escape, left that leg permanently weakened (along with being badly scarred) and requiring a leg brace to help him stand and walk properly. The arrow through his skull during his duel with c!Dream left him with a large scar on his temple, covering his brows in crack-like scars which also leave him with frequent migraines.

During the L'Manburg arc, c!Tommy's hair in my design still looks like c!Wilburs as they were still close during this arc.

Pogtopia:

Since Pogtopia apparently lasted two years (which is probably from Cursed Timeline Lore but I love cursed lore it’s hilarious,) c!Tommy would be around 13 to 15 here.

In Pogtopia, I draw c!Tommy as wearing similar clothes to during the Disc War arc, however, I also add on a loose belt holding knives, to show c!Tommy's increased need for self defence along with his fondness for knives lol. I actually don’t do the bandanna design with c!Tommy and c!Tubbo a lot of people do mostly because I couldn’t figure out how to get it to work with c!Tommy's hoodie. They have an equivalent but it’s later on alas.

As c!Tommy and c!Wilbur get more distant, c!Tommy grows out his hair slightly, and wears it tied in the back in a short ponytail.

Exile:

Oh I have a lot of things to talk about here >:). As a quick note to my messed up timeline, c!Tommy would be 15 here.

During exile, c!Tommy wears the same clothes as he did in Pogtopia initially, though due to lack of care and supplies, they eventually of course fray and rip. He also wears c!Wilbur's old ragged longcoat, even though it barely keeps out the cold, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes weirdly comforting. Over time, he rips up his shirt for bandages to the point he’s not wearing anything under his hoodie. His leg brace breaks and he makes a new one out of branches and leaves. (He could ask c!Dream, but he doesn’t want to be fucking reliant on him, relying on pity handouts like a child, so he won’t.)

Eventually, since c!Dream doesn’t exactly want c!Tommy to get hypothermia and die anticlimactically, he gives c!Tommy one of his capes. This is one of my favourite character design decisions I’ve made lmao. I specifically draw it looking too-big, despite the fact that doesn’t make much sense because they’re the same height, so it looks almost like he’s getting enveloped in c!Dream's green shades, and it also hides c!Tommy's wings which helps reinforce the loss of freedom.

c!Tommy gains… a lot of scars over exile. I mean he was literally hit by an axe multiple times. Specifically they’re primarily around the shoulders or the torso. I also draw him with a Glasgow grin, specifically curved to resemble Dream's mask, along with smaller, self inflicted, scratch and bite marks covering his arms. In addition, due to him barely eating I draw c!Tommy from this point onwards looking very scrawny. This is also where c!Tommy's pupils change from hearts to broken hearts! They never turn back :)

During exile, Tommy's hair grows out a lot, down to just past his shoulders, in a matted mess. c!Dream used to braid it at the back, like how I draw c!Dream's own hair, but it very quickly grew too matted with saltwater, mud, and blood to style :) :) :)

Bedrock Bros:

c!Tommy turns sixteen here during my scuffed timeline.

c!Tommy patches up the rips and tears in his clothes. He can’t fully salvage his cargo trousers, so he turns them into shorts. He makes his own shoes out of leather to replace the ones he lost. There’s a gaping hole in his hoodie pocket that couldn’t be stitched up. He'll patch it up later. c!Techno gives him one of his capes to keep him warm, fur lined and arctic blue with silvery snowflakes embroidered on. c!Tommy has to be reminded, or he puts on the green cape, turned a dull viridian from the sun, that makes him feel both safe and so, so afraid.

Scars heal, but never fully fade. Still, his eyes brighten again, somewhat, even if the bags under his eyes less disappear and more just turn a strange gold. He finally has the time to clean out his hair, and c!Techno ties it into a short, loose braid at the back. With the cape, he almost looks like c!Techno like that. Obviously, the visual implication here is to show that even though it’s obviously not exile, c!Techno is still suppressing c!Tommy's identity, albeit unknowingly (and the gold is from his constant eating of golden apples).

Final Disc War:

By this point, c!Tommy's back to just wearing his old clothes, tattered and frail as they might be. He finds his old sneakers, and day by day he sees himself in the mirror a bit more than the gunpowder on a battered trenchcoat, blood on a smiley face mask, wither rot on the edges of an elaborate snowy cape. He patches the hole in his hoodie with a piece of the fabric from one of c!Tubbo's old shirts. He lends him one of his too-small hoodies so he can do the same.

He still braids his hair, but in his own way, in a tightly woven ratstail braid more for convenience than for aesthetics. Character design wise, it’s another way to show c!Tommy's openly rougher personality than say, c!Dream or c!Techno, and so’s the patchwork clothes and rough shorts and scars. Like I said, maintaining a mix of rough and soft is very important to me in how I draw c!Tommy, and I’m very satisfied with how I pull it off here and in the next entry.

Revival:

the story has handed me the opportunity to make my favourite boy undead. i will not pass up the opportunity to make my favourite boy undead.

After revival, c!Tommy stops aging, at least in appearance. His skin… less pale, more colourless and almost grey. One of his eyes glows a pure, empty white now, like ghosts do, and the white messy streak in his hair doesn’t glow but it’s white enough it might as well.

The injuries of his death bear apparent on his form. His limbs can bend at impossible angles, his entire body covered head to toe in bruises. Two black eyes cover his face like a raccoon mask, and the ugly mottled marks of strangulation on his throat stand out like a sore thumb. You cannot look at him anymore and not see that he hasn’t died. He avoids mirrors again.

There’s stranger things, too, like how he doesn’t bleed anymore, any cuts just revealing an impossibly dark void beneath his marble-cold skin. Sometimes he goes weeks without eating, the hunger only hitting once he realises. He feels so tired, so cold, in a way not even the touch of fire can stem at all. He doesn’t have a heartbeat, or breathe.

Initially, he was too tired, too out of it to even consider cutting off or dying the white streak. When he wasn’t, he’d soon learn any attempts were futile, dye fading in mere days, cut off hair half regrown in a week. It should bother him more, but he just feels numb.

#dream smp #dsmp #c!tommy #tw abuse #tw mutilation #tw scars #tw bruises #tw death #tw child death #tw murder #tw child murder

[icollectyoursins]

Merman Jotaro x Fem!Reader NSFW Part 1

Anon said: "Merman Jotaro merman Jotaro merman Jo... SPICY PLEASE"

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Honestly. I dream about this often. 9/10 times it’s hot. 1/10 times it’s really hot. It’s not gender neutral, I guess, but it’s not a fem!reader. The reader just happens to have a vagina and tits. I could do a reader-with-a-dick version of this, if you want. This one is very long. Couldn’t stop writing! I am the biggest Jotaro simp and I am not afraid to admit it.

Heads up, Jotaro is referred to it as ‘they’ for most of this, only because the reader doesn’t really know what he’s packing on first glance. Anyway, I hope this is in character because Jotaro is one I haven’t quite nailed yet.

For as long as you can remember the ocean would call to you. After a lot of resource managing and hard work, you finally had enough money to get a boat and a small cabin by the beach, free to escape to the vast blue as much as you liked. Which is exactly what you did today. Someone was a little less than happy to see you in his territory.

Have a character, but no idea? Prompt list here!

Looking for more? Master post here!

WARNINGS: Dubious consent (dub con), size difference, fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play (sucking specifically), uh... tentacle dick? Kinda, two dicks, breeding, mention of kidnapping at the end.

Word count: 2506

Rest and Reproduction   

     The smell of the salty air tickled your nose as the mist of small waves splashed your face. You breathed a sigh of relief, leaning against the railing and staring out at the land. You could just barely see the sand and your little cabin. The rest was blue. A deep, calming blue. The stars reflected on the surface, twinkling pleasantly. Maybe you should go out a little bit further?

   Maybe tomorrow, you were tired from preparing your boat all day. The sun was just starting to set when you finally got on the water. You deserved a break.

   You sat down on a small fold-out chair you grabbed yesterday. It was comfier than you thought it would be and you sank into it happily, curling yourself into it as you stared up at the stars. A long sigh left your lips. Today was a good day.

   A loud splash to your left startled you, making you sit up quickly and run to the source of the sound. All you saw were the ripples it left behind. Whatever it was, it was big. Then another large splash, this time it was accompanied by a thunk on the metal. The boat rocked from the impact, instinctively, you reached for the railing, holding on so you don’t fall over.

   A third splash comes from behind you. You turn around quickly, catching the glimpse of a tail, pure black and big. It banged the side of the boat again, throwing you off balance. You stumbled backwards into the chair, knocking both it and yourself over. The knocking suddenly stops along with the rocking. Silence never felt more terrifying. You sat, frozen by fear.

   Then the bow started to dip and creak. You scrambled backwards hoping to keep out of the water as long as possible. A large, black, clawed hand gripped the front of the boat, then another. Whatever it was, it was trying to pull itself up. Slowly, you were able to see its face the closer it got to you. 

   Sharp, angular features with piercing blue eyes and full lips. Short, black hair messily stuck to their face. They crawled towards you, eyes narrowing with focus the more they tried to fit themselves onto the boat but their weight kept tipping it. You were holding onto whatever would keep you up, unfortunately, nothing was helping and you slowly began sinking towards your pursuer. 

   You tried to scramble your way up to no avail. The closer you got, the less they moved, waiting for you to come to them. They reached out with one of their massive hands, grabbing your ankle then pulling you towards them. What happened next was a blur.

   Arms wrapped around your torso, holding you close to keep you from struggling. Whoever was holding you was massive, significantly stronger than you, easily trapping you and pulling you into the frigid waters. The salty sea stung your eyes as it whipped around you. Then, just as you were about to blackout, you were pulled to the surface again, gasping for breath. 

   You pushed against what you assumed was a rock sticking out of the water because of the sting against your back. Your arms were pinned down as your attacker shifted himself so your legs were under them. They were cold and wet; slimy. As your eyes gradually focused, you saw fully who this thing was. 

   Glaring down at you was some kind of half-man, half orca or shark mix. Their arms up until the elbow were black, then faded to a light flesh tone. You couldn’t quite see the rest of their body, but you imagined the rest was similar. Light skin transitioning to a pitch black. Bright blue eyes started you down, full of rage and confusion. 

   “What are you doing here?” A low, rumbling voice boomed from them. You struggle to speak, unable to think straight with this whatever it was on top of you. Their eyes narrow at you, threatening you without words. You continue to stutter and attempt to free yourself from their grip which only tightens, claws digging into your skin. They snarl, face getting closer to yours. “What are you doing here.”

   “Ah! I’m just- nnf- I didn’t do anything wrong!” You gritted, tears forming at the corner of your eyes. “I was just trying to relax, I didn’t mean to do anything wrong.” Their lips pulled back, baring their teeth slightly. It was at this point that you noticed that they were... well. Hot. They were hot. “Who are you?”

   They glared at you, deciding whether or not to answer and you felt yourself shrink under their gaze. After a few seconds, they finally did. “My name is Jotaro and you are in my territory.”

   “I didn’t mean to, I swear!” They snarled again. You could feel your heart race. They leaned into your neck, sniffing. You gasped, trying not to move, hoping you wouldn’t upset them more, but the closer they got to your neck, the more (regretfully) aroused you got. You moved your head away, stretching out your neck, shamefully trying to entice them. Meekly, you said: “I didn’t know.”

   They rolled their eyes, tail swishing in frustration. You could feel them moving against you, which only made your situation worse. You moaned quietly at the slight movement on your groin. They stopped, staring at you; perplexed. Embarrassed, you screwed your eyes shut, praying they wouldn’t notice the blush on your face. They moved again, deliberately this time, deeper and more fluid making you bite your lip to stifle another moan.

   Jotaro leaned in, raking their teeth along your sensitive neck taking in how you shivered. You were ashamed, but it’s hard not to react like this when there’s a really hot, strong, slightly intimidating merman on top of you. They released one of your arms, placing it by your shoulder to get more leverage as well as loosening their grip on the other. Their lips came dangerously close to you, breath kissing your skin, then they sat back again. 

   “You have two choices. I rip open your guts and feed you to the sharks, or-” they lean in, lips brushing against your jawline teasingly, “-satisfy me enough and I’ll let you get out of here alive.”

   “What?”

   “I’m not repeating myself. Now, hurry up before I make the decision for you.” You gulped. I mean... it’s not like he’s giving you very many options... you shyly nodded your head. “Say it.”

   “I’ll uh... satisfy you...” your voice trailed off into a question, not sure if that was the right word.

   “I’ll be the judge of that.” They pushed themselves back, looking up and down your body, probably to see if you were built to satisfy them. “You’re lucky I haven’t found a female yet, otherwise there would be two to worry about. The others of my kind aren’t so forgiving.”

   Okay, so they were a he. Good to know. That meant he had the... parts for everything to work, right? Or, at least most of the parts. He makes eye contact one more time before getting to work. Jotaro rips your bottoms off, slightly scratching your thighs, a low, rumbling sound coming from his chest. What little fabric is left is tossed aside and he holds open your legs, inspecting you.

   You stare at him a little dazed. This can’t be happening, right? He drags his teeth along the inside of your thigh while glaring at you from the corner of his eye, the shivers down your spine prove that this is very much real. When he gets close to your sex, it’s very apparent how aroused you were. He can smell it so strongly. A clawed finger cuts open your underwear leaving you completely open to his stare.

   He quizzically pokes at it, pushing your folds apart. Gently, he takes his thumb and rubs your entrance, eyes flicking up to you as you squirm, moaning quietly. His brows furrow together, testing you further by swiping up to your clit, pressing into it then circling. You moan louder this time, bucking your hips up into his finger.

   He quickly gets sick of your squirming, pulling his fingers away and bringing them to his lips, tongue slipping out for a taste. Jotaro stopped, sitting completely still. You shook, hoping he wasn’t offended. He looked at you with a new fire making you gulp down a breath. He slams one arm down across your hips, pinning you down while he brings his face closer to your cunt, licking along your entrance. Your hands fall into his hair, back arching off of the rock as much as it could in your immobile state. He groans at the taste of you, needing more. 

   He leans into you, lapping up your juices vigorously. His lips then wrap around your clit, lightly sucking. Your body tries to move, buck up into him as you mewl, but his arm is too strong. His eyes flick up to you, watching your cheeks get more and more red as he picks up his pace. Suddenly, he pulls back making you gasp. The two of you make eye contact before he crawls up to your face again, cool body rubbing against your unclothed lower half.

   Jotaro crashes his lips into yours. The kiss catches you off guard and you let out a small, muffled sound of shock, but soon melt into him. The taste of you mixed with the saltiness of the sea had your eyes rolling back into your head. Again, just as you were starting to enjoy yourself, he pulls back, moving onto another area of your body. This time it was your breasts.

   He tore a large hole in your top and bra, wide hands roaming over your now exposed chest, pinching where ever he saw necessary. Immediately, he drags his tongue along your soft flesh, flicking over your pert nipple. You gasp and groan, grinding up into him as much as you could under his weight. He pulls away sharply, baring his teeth as he growls at you.

   “Stay still,” he warns, pinching one of your nipples harder than he probably should have. You arch up into his touch, crying out in a mix of pain and pleasure. He twists. Hard. Your hands come to meet his, trying to pry him off, pain now taking the forefront of your feelings. Obediently, he pulls off, leaning into your face, voice low and dangerous. “Stop moving.”

   You meekly nod your head, still holding onto his hand which he then brings up to your face, wrapping your hair around a clawed finger. A sweet, kind change from the aggressiveness before. Jotaro’s eyes wander over your face, taking in your soft features. Once again, he kisses you, gently this time before shifting so he could focus back on your vag with his other hand. 

   His fingers spread your lower lips open again, middle finger pressing into your entrance. He’s careful, doing his best not to scratch you with his sharp nails. He moves his finger up and down before finally pressing into your warmth. You both gasp as your head tosses back. He starts with a slow pace, gently massaging your walls, coaxing more of your juices to seep out of you, squelching whenever he moves back in.

   Gradually he picks up the pace, testing your limits as well as listening to the sweet sounds that fall from you. He adds a second finger when he thinks you're ready, then three, stretching you open. You were so close, holding onto his hand still, pulling him closer to you as you reached your peak. Unfortunately, you never got there. He pulls his fingers out, licking off any traces of you from his fingers before moving so he was exposed to you.

   Jotaro takes your hand, bringing it to a slit below his waist. Your fingers trace over it lightly next to his, taking into account how he shudders. He leads your fingers, pressing into the top of the slit. Slowly, you watch it grow wide, a small pink nub starting to protrude from it. The more you tease his slit the bigger the nub grows into two full, smooth, tapered cocks. Tentacles? You weren’t quite sure, but they looked... exciting if a little intimidating. 

   You let go of his hand, opting to hold one of his cocks instead. They were slick and warm with a pleasant weight to them. The one you were holding curled around your hand slightly, covering your hand in moisture. You start jerking it with slow, shallow pumps, noticing how his eyes close shut and the slight buck of his hips. You pick up the pace, enjoying how the tip starts drooling what you assume it pre onto your hand. 

   Quickly, your hand is pulled away and he moves to align himself with your entrance. Slowly, he slides into you, groaning as he gets deeper. At first, it was okay, but the more that entered, the more full you felt, his tapered tip reaching into every crevice inside you. His other tenta-dick rested between your cheeks, teasing your back door, but never entering. He growls, picking up the pace slowly so you got used to the new intrusion.

   The feeling was driving you mad, whatever warm liquid was seeping out of him added to the pleasure, gradually building up to a tingly feeling that made you babble like an idiot. Jotaro places one of his arms above your head, pressing into you more while the other hand reaches up to your breast, teasing your nipple again. Instantly, you wrap yourself around him, pulling him closer as he gyrates into what feels like your soul. You cry out his name over and over, head tossing back in ecstasy.

   His breath tickles your ear as the two of you chase your release. He groans into your ear, lips trailing down your neck to your shoulder where he kisses you gently before sinking his sharp teeth into you. You scream as pain and pleasure mix together again. He speeds up, the lip of his slit stimulating your clit more and more. 

   “Ah, ah ~aah! I’m cl-hnn. I’m so close!” He laps up the blood from your shoulder, taking your words to heart, somehow getting deeper into you. A few powerful thrusts into you sent you hurtling over the edge, eyes rolling back while your vision when white and you fell limp in his arms.

   Jotaro soon followed you, the feel of your tightness around him made him plunge deep into you, spilling as much of his seed as possible. A vision of you growing round with his pup dances across his eyelids. He looks down at your face, flushed and relaxed. You were more than satisfying to him. He would never allow anyone else touch you after this.

   The last thing you recall was a warm kiss placed on your temple before being swallowed by the cold water and then black...

#this didn't save the first time so I need to write all of the tags again. woot #oooh cliff hanger #kinda #jotaro kujo x reader not sfw #jotaro kujo x reader n/s/f/w #jotaro kujo not sfw #jotaro kujo n/s/f/w #jotaro not sfw #jotaro n/s/f/w #jotaro x reader not sfw #jotaro x reader n/s/f/w #jotaro prompts #monster prompts #mer prompts

[anika-ann]

Attached - Pt.1

The Words of Doom

Type: (mini)-series, college AU, professor AU (technically)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader   Word count: 1880

Summary for the series: You messed up. Your very sleep-deprived Self attached the wrong document when emailing a professor and sent him one of the stories you wrote instead of an assignment. It should be embarrassing, really, but it wasn’t. It was worse.

Why did it have to be the smutty one? Why did it have to be the one starring his best friend, Professor Rogers? You were so screwed.

Aka the ‘you sent the wrong attachment to hot professor A that just happens to be about his friend hot professor B and now professor A is not able to look at professor B without wheezing in laughter anymore and you are unable to look at either of them’ AU

Warnings: swearing, literally one mention of a possible daddy kink, double entendre

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Your eyes felt like on fire, burning hotter than the sun above Sahara Desert; the metaphor your sleep-deprived mind came up with was only perfected by the huge dunes of the bags under your eyes.

You were running on disgustingly strong coffee and three energy drinks, but you summoned the rest of your strength and clicked on ‘send’, slumping so heavily into your chair that when your back hit the backrest, it almost toppled over—but never mind, you made it!

Penny, your gracious roommate, would inform you that had you started earlier and were writing the actual essay instead of wasting words on steamy stories that somehow filled the desired wordcount with considerably less effort, you wouldn’t have been turning into a zombie sending assignments several minutes before eight a.m., the actual deadline.

Yeah, well, sue me, I prefer romance to the World War II., no matter how important history is.

You were certain Professor Barnes would understand if you told him that anyway – he was a pretty easy-going guy for a scholar after all. Then again, you sure as hell didn’t want to test the theory out and so you tended to hand in your homework perhaps ‘minute to midnight’, but still in time.

You grinned as you checked the sent e-mail, proudly reading it had been sent at 7:56. You mentally patted your back, not having the energy to actually move to do that.

And then your Sahara-dry eyeballs fell lower on the screen and you let out a shriek of horror.

Your heart stopped in your chest before kicking in faster than it had been pumping after three Red Bulls.

The attachment.

Oh no.

OH FUCK, the attachment!

Now, it happened on occasion that people forgot to attach the files they spoke of in an e-mail, right? Sometimes shit like that happened.

But this… this was so, so much worse.

“Oh no,” you uttered under your breath, shooting up and suddenly sitting with back straight as a ruler just to look at the screen from shorter distance to-- nope, still there. “Oh fuck.”

You quickly scrambled to send another e-mail with similar text but the right file, along with a swift apology.

Sent 7:59.

You should be relieved. Perhaps Professor Barnes would notice the correct one first and automatically deleted the one that obviously must have been wrong.

So why couldn’t you find it in you to think you would have such luck?

At least if he opened the wrong document, he would understand very quickly that it was not what he had asked the students to do and would delete it before diving in fully, right?

But a worm of doubt – or intuition, whatever you wanted to call it – told you that it wouldn’t be the case.

You covered your mouth with your palms and screamed at the top of your lungs.

Penny, sleep-deprived considerably less than you because she was an actual responsible human being, walked from her room to the bathroom and blatantly ignored you, probably thinking you had missed the deadline by a minute and were now freaking out.

Oh, you wished.

“Pennyyyyyyyyy!” you cried out in a whiny tone, but she clicked the door shut as if nothing was happening. As if your whole life wasn’t in shambles because of one single e-mail. “Penelope, you get your ass back here! I need to know how to switch schools without having to repeat a year!”

Her wild black curls peeked from the bathroom, followed by an annoyed sleep-raspy voice. “Why? You accidently called Barnes a daddy in your message or somethin’?”

Your heart was still beating its way out of your chest, a low ominous hum in your ears. Gods above, you wished. Still would be easier to explain, like… you could claim it was a dare or something.

No, this was much, much worse.

Penny, apparently taken aback by the lack of your response, left the safety of the bathroom and approached your lair (probably stinking of sugary drinks and caffeine) and peeked over your shoulder, searching an explanation for your antics.

You only gulped, moved the cursor to the title of the document you had sent in your first e-mail and closed your eyes, actually feeling tears of humiliation stinging in them.

The silence that followed spoke volumes until-

“OH SHIT.”

You had just shared your smutty one-shot with your history professor, but that wasn’t even the worst part. The worst part was that it was starring his rumoured one and only best friend he shared an office with. One who had acted like a substitute for two weeks when Professor Barnes got a particularly bad case of cold, but wouldn’t leave you without a lecture. Needless to say, Professor Rogers had also starred several of your steamy dreams after that and became a source of inspiration for your occasional writing streaks.

And now your history professor could read all about it and, god forbid, share it with the man who was the template of the main character of the story. You weren’t dumb; you alternated the names, just in case of you didn’t even know what (and it might have made you feel better about writing filthy stuff about a prof), but you went with the same looks including hair and skin colour, hairstyle, Rogers’ glorious beard and you certainly didn’t omit his surprisingly ripped body.

So, yeah. Penny’s ‘OH SHIT’ was pretty accurate.

You were so screwed.

Yes, once again, you wished.

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You had handed in your work on Friday morning and had been jittery all weekend, practically unable to focus on any of the studying you desperately needed to do. Normally, you might write some comforting piece to relieve your frustration, but that was not an option right now as simply opening a text editor gave you palpitations.

The all-nighter you had pulled didn’t exactly help your already non-existent ability to get your head on straight either.

You were looking forward to Monday and dreaded it at the same time – Professor Barnes was to give your assignments back with a mark and commentary. You were praying for Monday to come already, because you just needed to know the consequences of your actions. You were freaking out about Monday for very obvious reasons.

You had no idea what was happening in your first Monday class. Your lunch consisted of half bottle of coke.

And now here you were, seated in the second row of three, because that seemed like the safest place, a seat where Barnes couldn’t approach you from any angle.

When he entered the class, you decided to stubbornly watch the desk in front of you. Under any circumstances, you would not make eye-contact, wouldn’t raise your gaze. There was no fucking way anything would force you look his in the eye.

Or you thought so.

You hadn’t realized he would call out each of your names and would say the necessary commentary about doing well, missing something, excellent work, this one feeling a bit sloppy… out loud, which would made it truly impolite to keep staring ahead. With each work sent through the sea of people to hand it to those in the second row, your stomach was turning heavier, your heart beating faster.

And then Professor Barnes said your name and you winced in your seat, squeezing your eyes shut on instinct, the childish if I can’t see you, you can’t see me either kicking in.

He called out your name again as if there was a chance you missed it the first time and with a huge lump of panic in your throat, you blinked your eyes open and raised your gaze, only to meet his neutral face with just the tinniest twitch to the corners of his lips and a barely visible twinkle to his eye.

Your stomach dropped to the floor, your face burning with embarrassment and humiliation.

He held out the papers to the person in the first row in front of you, whose name you didn’t care for at the moment, and nodded his head.

“Not bad at all,” he said and that was the end of it.

Your essay landed in front of you and you finally breathed in properly, your hand trembling slightly as you noticed the circled B+ in the corner.

You were deaf to his next words, your heart jumping as you read the note by the mark.

B for the cliché used, + for the originality.

Huh. What a strange way to word an evaluation… but hey, you wouldn’t complain. For one, no one had filled a harassment complaint for your stupid ass so far and you had written this shit during an all-nighter and still got B+. This was the best outcome you could hope for; Barnes didn’t even give you shit about your... error.

A smile slowly found a way to your lips, a shy little thing, but definitely present, your mimic muscles, so stiff from trying to keep a poker face, relaxing.

You browsed over the other notes in red ink scattered over the pages, some sentences and phrases unlined and commented on, sometimes corrected, sometimes complimented to.

It wasn’t until you reached the red note that had one word from it actually crossed out and replaced.

Really hits the spot mark.

Your smile froze on your lips, your heart ceased to beat before kicking in with furious pace, loud pounding humming in your temples.

Oh god. Oh no.

Hitting a spot? He could have written it was ‘spot on’ or that it ‘hit the mark’… he made the mistake deliberately, you were certain of it – all of his other notes were so neat and thought through-

You checked the individual notes, your stomach twisting when you re-read them in a new light.

Nearly all the wording he had used was referencing to your… special assignment you had handed in.

Oh god, please, let the lightning hit me. Let the floor swallow me. Let the cardiac arrest momentarily trying to kill me actually kill me.

Interesting work for certain with a winky face?! Really? That would be innocent enough on its own, but it was feeling like a conspiratorial wink. The I know more than I let on and you know what I’m talking about wink.

The next one was a blatant double-entendre and you could bang your head against your desk for not realizing it first time reading it. Good writing, nice flow, clearly heading to the climax.

Your face was set aflame once more and despite your better judgement, you glanced at the professor momentarily showing whatever in his presentation.

He caught your gaze and had the audacity to wink.

You snapped your head away and silently whined, sliding down your chair nearly enough to lie on the floor.

OH. MY. FUCKING. GOD.

Why did it have to be the smutty one you sent? Why couldn’t it be a cute one at least? You had loads of those! Why did it have to be the one about Steven damn Rogers, his friend?

Why, just WHY?!

Professor Barnes had definitely read it. And for some reason, you had a hunch that he had showed it to his friend slash colleague he shared an office with too.

You whined some more and pretended that this day was the apocalypse and that you would never have to face either of the professors ever again.

Of course, you could not have such luck.

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Part 2

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There it is! Shorter chapter for starters. Just you wait ;)

I’m pretty sure something like this have been written before, but plot bunnies are little shits that refuse to leave no matter how much you kick them and beg them to go away.

I blame @pies-writes-and-more @kayteewritessteve and @queen-kass-the-writer for supporting bad behaviour, but they are not the only ones. You know who you are, don’t YOU? I am a weak human being and you are corrupting me. Thanks, sweeties ;)

Thank you for reading! 

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Tags: @scentedsongrebel @patzammit @donutloverxo @annathesillyfriend  @orions-nebula @iheartsebastianstan @wxstedhexrt

If anyone wants on the taglist or out, lemme know via DM or an ask :)

-.-.-

ALSO. A friend of mine created a perfect artwork for this chapter/series and I wanted to share 😍🥰🤩:

Thank you, @chase-your-dreams-away 🥺

#marvel #fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #college au #professor au #professor!steve rogers #professor!bucky barnes #bucky barnes #captain america x you #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #student!reader #mcu #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #attached #anika ann

[ka-writes]

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Notes: I had already started on the second chapter before I posted the first one, so don’t expect updates every day... I also had to do a lot of googling for this chapter.

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Chapter 1 in case you missed it:

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Inspired by:

Humans are Space Velociraptors

By:FreshRoses_InMyGarden_NeedTheRain

Some kids come from storks, others come from crashed spaceships

By: mmmajora

Home Again, Home Again

By: teeth_eater

All works can be found on Ao3

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Warnings: Cussing, needles, character conflicts, intentional poisoning, poisoning, Jaws reference

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“Humans are [and text here]”

Chapter 2: What is this, an interview?

Tommy was now restrained to a chair six feet away from the weird scientist alien. He had a dark brown lab coat with a fuzzy yellow sweater underneath, matched with black pants and black leather boots. His gold rimmed Harry Potter glasses slipped down his nose bridge a bit before he pushed it up and shuffled through papers. He wore a red beanie with a big whiff of his curly chocolate hair. His skin was a weird translucent grayish color with blue speckles decorating it. He had deep brown eyes with an odd electric blue circle outlining the pupil.

His tongue licked his finger as he turned the page. This was a habit that most of the weird teachers and counselors did. It always annoyed Tommy. This time fear was also mixed into that annoyance. His saliva was tinted blue and he had sharp teeth which immediately reminded him of a shark.

“You have shark teeth.” Tommy stated absentmindedly. Clearly, this caught the scientist alien off guard.

“I have what?” The alien asked, confused.

“Shark teeth.. ya know like the weird fish creatures that eat people.” Tommy started rambling causing the shark-alien to become even more confused and slightly alarmed. “I mean I think they eat people. That’s what the shark movie showed… what was its name, Jaws I think? I dunno, my foster mom freaked out in the middle of it and we went home. That lady was weird.. She made us wear itchy clothes and take weird photos before she sent me back to the group home.”

“What?..” The shark-alien asked. Tommy jumped a bit. He forgot he was rambling to a stranger. Alien stranger at that.

“Doesn’t matter.. What's the first question bitch-boy?” Tommy liked the way the alien jumped at the randomly timed insults.

“Er- right.. First off, what’s your name?” The shark-alien asked after collecting himself.

“Tommy Innit. Yours bitch-boy?” Tommy replied.

“Wilbur Soot. Stop calling me bitch-boy!” Wilbur huffed.

“Next question, bitch-boy!” Tommy emphasized the name, getting an even angrier expression in return. Wilbur’s weird blue circle flashed red for a second which caught Tommy off guard.

Wilbur took a shaky breath before asking the next question. “How old are you?”

“Old enough! I am a big man!” Tommy stated. Yet another thing that pissed him off.

“Age?” Wilbur asked, clearly irritated.

“18.” Wilbur raised a brow, “14.” Tommy huffed. His age should only be his business not some alien-bitch who didn’t even have his file.

“If you keep lying, I may have to get the truth serum from the back.” Wilbur half-heartedly threatened. Tommy, the big man that he is, did not get scared at that statement, only slightly unsettled which clearly showed on his face.

“Now, do you have a family?” Tommy tensed at the question. It was a touchy question and was not one that was asked often especially with his reputation.

“I am a big man. I don’t need a family to be great.” Tommy stated, happy with the answer. The alien-bitch shifted awkwardly.

“Right… What is your diet?”

“Umm.. I dunno, whatever I can find. I am allergic to nuts though..” Wilbur nodded in understanding and wrote things down in his notepad.

“What plants are poisonous to you?” Wilbur asked without looking up from his notes.

“Ermm, poison Ivy, poison oak… uh I think parts of rhubarb, and most wild berries. I am not sure other than that.” Wilbur nodded while adding bits to his notes.

“What was the place you lived like?” This time Wilbur glanced up to look at Tommy. This was again another touchy subject… How many times would this alien bitch get into the sad background?

“Shitty.” Tommy snapped. That was the only response the bitch was gonna get.

“Right.. Do you have music on Earth?”

Tommy scoffed, “Of course we have music, dumbass!”

“Can you tell me about the animals there?” Wilbur asked, almost hopeful.. which was weird. What was he hoping for?

“Erm I guess..” Tommy mumbled, trying to figure out where to start, “There’s a bunch of animals. Mainly on land. My favorite would be the cow.”

“What’s that?” Curiosity stained Wilbur’s face. This got Tommy excited; he was practically beaming as he started talking.

“Well they are these big ruminants that make milk and have horns. There are a bunch of types too like the highland cow, which obviously is the most poggers one. They are a Scottish breed with really long hair. I met one once, on a field trip his name was Henry.” Tommy rambled on for the next two and a half hours, jumping from topic to topic and explaining anything that wasn’t personal. He usually ended those paths with short insults.

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Wilbur hated to stop the kids' detailed story, but two and a half celestial hours had already passed, and Dream would be coming to check soon. Luckily, he had a couple new poisons that could pass off as a research development. He had even managed to send the distressed signal and no doubt Phil would already be there with the SBI craft ready to fly at any given moment.

“Alright Tommy.” His voice dropped to a serious tone causing the kid to stop his story of how he got poisoned by mushrooms on a camping trip. “You’re gonna have to trust me just for a bit. I am going to get you off the ship at the next stop but in the meantime I need you to tell me how allergic you’re to nuts.” The kid immediately tensed at the question.

“I am mainly allergic to tree nuts.. almonds being the worst. After a few minutes I can’t breathe properly and I usually pass out. The doctor said if I don’t get it treated within 15 minutes, death is most likely.” He took a moment to go through the information. The kid most likely has an anaphylaxis reaction to tree nuts. Meaning either he would have to know the exact time of landing and exactly where Phil was or he needed another poison that was less severe.

“Alright, here is what we’re gonna do. I have a chemical mixture that is similar to that of rattlesnake venom. I also have a chemical substance that numbs any pain you may feel. Side effects would include being very very tired and delirious over the next few days. Along with being knocked out for a good ten hours. To put it simply I am gonna fake poison you, in order to get you off the ship. It’s your choice if you’re willing to do it.” Wilbur paused to study the kid still restrained in front of him. It was odd how relaxed the kid seemed to be in a situation like this. He had no urge as far as Wilbur was aware, to fight against anything that happened. His complaints only being those that touched on personal matters. It was unsettling to say the least, and intrigued Wilbur. He really wanted to unravel the life the kid had lived before this and how he was actually dealing with the situation.

There was a long pause before the kid spoke, “I wouldn’t mind getting away from the weird smiley bitch.. plus you seem nice and to know what you’re doing so sure. Poison me bitch.” He said the last sentence with an enthusiasm Wilbur wasn’t expecting. He took a moment to rethink his plan, which was interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Dream says you better have advanced in your stupid testing. Otherwise he’s gonna kick you off the ship at the next stop.” Stated the rather rude blazeling, Sapnap. The blazeling never liked Wilbur and made a point to argue against any advancements at meals. That led to Dream installing a new system of emails and Wilbur eating meals alone.

“Yea yea, it’s going!” He yelled through the metal door.

“Better be.” The blazeling snapped before making a non quiet track back to his quarters.

“Stupid blazeling.” Wilbur grumbled as he sorted through vials and picked up new needles and measured out the substances. “We are going to start with the anesthetic then move onto the poison.” He softly addressed Tommy.

Wilbur swiftly disinfected Tommy’s shoulder and gave the needle. He then gave the second needle. Immediately Tommy slumped over. Wilbur swiftly took off Tommy’s restraints and moved him on to the patient bed in the back corner of the room. After the transfer was done he clipped the body restraints around Tommy and waited for the alert signaling landing.

After about five minutes the light next to the door turned blue. He moved over to his seat and clipped on the safety belts. The light turned green and the ship shook momentarily before a thud could be felt. Quickly as Wilbur could, he emptied the needles into the waste bin and waited for his soon-to-be-ex-boss to arrive.

Dream stepped through the door and glanced around the room before heading to Wilbur for his report.

“Report.” The dreamon commanded.

“The subject's body would have gone through a painfully slow death and have multiple organ failures if I did not intervene. The chemical mixes used created a conflict in the patient’s body which resulted in the patient falling into exhaustion as they recovered.” He responded in a monotone tone. Dream looked over Tommy. He flinched back in disgust as Tommy grunted in his sleep.

“Is that all?” The dreamon questioned.

“No.” Wilbur swallowed down his panic, “This is the last testing I will be doing with this crew.” The dreamon scoffed.

“I am assuming you’re getting off at this planet?” Dream spit. Wilbur knew he absolutely hated when people left his crew as he saw it as a direct violation of his loyalty.

“Yes.” The phantom stated, keeping his even tone apparent. With that Dream stormed out cursing in Siestian. Somewhere in the mess of words he told Wilbur to get his things.

Without hesitation he grabbed his bag from his quarters, which was held in a small room that branches off the lab. He half sprinted down the short hallway and straight to the bed Tommy was on. He swiftly unrestrained the human and sat him up. He slipped on boots and gloves then tied a cloak around the kid. He pulled the hood up and carried him off of the closest exit. There were faint yells from Dream down the hallway and reassurances from the only two beings that put up with him. And with that Wilbur was off to find the only craft he had ever called home. The SBI ship.

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Chapter 2- End

Words~ 1774

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End Notes: ‘‘twas to lazy to reread... sorry for minor mistakes. Also suggestions are always appreciated!! Please reblog...

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Chapter 3:

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Wilbur:

#my writing #my fanfic tag #wilbur soot #sapnap #dream mcyt #tommy mcyt #dream smp fanfiction #space au

[thecomposerofstories]

Information on Amy.

(Be warned it's a ~little bit~ long, any other pieces of information you want to know I'll gladly answer if you ask.)

~General Information~

Fandom: Toy Story.

Name: Amy the Ragdoll.

Nickname, if any: Amy, Ames, and Doll-Face(usually by more villainous characters or used in a joking manner).

Gender: Female.

Sexuality: ??? (I mean I know the gender of who she has a crush on, but I'm unsure on what her actual sexuality should be tbh)

Age: Mentally, mid-twenties in the first story second movie, thirties to forties in the third and fourth. Physically, she doesn’t have an age, but in regards to when she was made (the 1950’s) makes her fifty to sixty.

City they currently live in: San Francisco, apparently that’s where Toy Story takes place.

Any pets: Would Rex count? He just follows her around like a nervous puppy.

Current occupation: I mean she’s practically a therapist, but she’s a toy and she only treats Rex so it probably doesn’t count lol

~Physical Appearance~

Height: 10 inches.

Body type: Stocky, but a bit gangly too, similar to Sally from The Nightmare Before Christmas.

Eye colour: Black.

Skin tone: Light.

Clothing style: Pale green/turquoise shirt with short puffed sleeves, with a denim dungaree dress with a daisy print in the centre over it. She wears yellow rain boots.

Hairstyle: No style, it’s just there. It’s messy and gets in her face easily and is made out of dark brown thin string.

~Speech/Language/Communication~

Amy speaks quietly and politely, rambles a bit if left without a reply or under pressure, very nervous in front of intimidating characters.

First language: English.

Learned languages: A bit of Spanish (Ya’ll remember Toy Story 3!)

Accent: American.

Pitch of voice: High, but soft, not quite annoying, unless she’s stressed, then it gets very pitchy and shrill.

~Behaviour/Habits~

Amy tends to just stand there when she can’t find anything to do, and will immediately try to find Rex, Hamm, Buzz or Jessie if surrounded by strangers (Though she’s not sure if it’s for their comfort or her own) Amy is very polite.

Spending habits: She doesn’t like to be made a fuss of at all, the very fact of someone giving something to her is unnerving (even if the thing never costed anything at all) and she feels compelled to give the giver something in return.

Morning routine: She gets up same time as the others, but wishes she could stay in bed a bit longer though. Before she came to Andy’s room, her sleep pattern was all over the place.

Bedtime routine: Similar to above, now she goes to bed the same time as the others, but before she just slept and got up willy-nilly.

Nervous habits: Amy will try to find Rex if she’s nervous, and she’ll pretend it’s because she’s worried for him, which is quite true, but she also just feels most safe with him. Speaking of, Amy will let Rex hold her hand and squish it whenever he or Amy is nervous, it’s calming to the both of them.

Bad habits: Not a very good exerciser, but then again, she’s spend basically half her life in a small attic, so I’ll give her a break.

Skills/talents: She’ very logical, mind-over-matter, (mostly, very good at calming others down and/or convincing them. She’s very good at spelling and knows quite a lot of words, some of which others haven’t even heard of.

Hobbies: Reading, talking (especially with Rex, Jessie or Hamm), and generally just lazing about or walking around somewhere, on her own or with a friend.

~The Past~

Amy’s first owner was a little girl called Alice. Alice loved nothing more than to read Amy stories (Mostly fairy tales), but of course, Alice grew up like all kids do, and she left Amy in the attic for someone else to have her.

Amy waited for many years, and all that time she’d never given up that someone would find her.

She thought she’s hit the jackpot when Andy and his family move into Alice’s old house, but they don’t go up into the attic to collect her. Some weeks later, though, Andy’s mother brings a set of boxes filled with junk into the attic and leaves. Woody, Buzz, Slinky, and Rex were trapped in one of the boxes (Call me a cheater but this part was actually inspired by a Toy Story comic, where those four toys get stuck in the attic that way and have to escape. It struck me odd that they never met at least one new friend there, so I made one. It was also my first story, I needed some inspiration!)

Amy, in a fit of panic, goes and hides.

But then she’s found by Rex as he and the others try to find a way out.

They then decide to let the strange, dust-covered ragdoll come back to Andy’s rom with them. (well, Rex did, anyway.)

Home town: Would Alice’s old room count? But it’s now Andy’s Room, so it won’t count will it?

Happy or sad childhood: Pretty normal to be honest, as normal a life as a toy could have anyway. And as for sadness, having spent all that time on her own for all those years, having missed out on so much, is a little sad. But Amy made sure she never became bitter over it or used it as an excuse for anything.

Earliest memory: Waking up in her toy store, with a friend of hers for company (a ragdoll Prospector, a much as she remembers) and as she gets bought by Alice’s Auntie, she says she hopes he gets picked up by a kid. (Unbeknownst to her, she would meet him again in a while to find out he never got to experience it)

Saddest memory: One, being left by Alice, yet being so happy for her and how much she’s grown up, if she could cry tears of joy for her owner, she would. Two, some (or most) of the days she spent waiting for a new owner to arrive. And three, watching Rex have a mental breakdown of anxiety.

Happiest memory: One, the time she and Alice went to the park, (Amy absolutely adores nature) Two after sliding down a drainpipe to get to Andy’s room, and three, having known she’d helped her friend out.

Significant events: Being bought, being left in an attic, being rescued from the attic, while gaining some new friends.

~Family~

The entirety of Andy’s room, whether they like it or not, they’re all in this together and are some kind of mish-mash, found family in a sense.

Siblings: I’ve been thinking of giving Amy a brother (since I based her on Raggedy Ann, a matching bootleg Raggedy Andy seems reasonable) bur I’m unsure about it, since I’ve already mapped out Amy’s entire series of stories (Around six or seven all together, so far I’m currently writing only the third) and I can only fit him in the fifth or sixth if I can.

~Relationships~

Romantically? I’d like to say she has a crush on Rex, I don’t know why I thought of it, I was contemplating it one day as I sketched a rough (and terrible) sketch of her, and I drew Rex too because he’s just so fun to draw and I wanted to make a scale for Amy’s size, and one of my friends (who had been watching me) immediately said “I ship it!” and well, the rest is history, I made the decision to ship it too.

Friends: Jessie, Hamm, Buzz, and Rex are her closet friends, but she’d like to say that all the Gang are her friends. Later on she becomes good friends with Mr. Prickle Pants, Buttercup, Trixie and Totoro, and she absolutely loves the peas and Forky.

Best friend(s): Hamm, Mr. Prickle Pants, Jessie, and Rex.

What do people like about them? Amy’s pretty easy to talk to, she’s polite and attentive and will sit in companionable silence with someone if they need it. But she won’t hesitate to give hard truths and advice if it’s needed.

What do people dislike about them? Amy is quite a doormat, if someone is rude to her or breaches anything she just lets it happen, and sometimes she’s too indecisive about her own stuff, unsure whether she’s going to offend others or not over the smallest things, which annoys others quite a bit.

~Mentality/Personal Beliefs~

Amy is a toy of logic, and though she believes others can do it if they set their minds to it, she doesn’t quite believe in herself. She believes she must follow the rules of being a toy at all times, no matter what.

Phobias: Dust. She hates it. It took a good five weeks to brush all the dust out her hair and clothes, and even so there’s still some in her pockets and places she can’t reach. And being alone, too. Now she can’t be alone for more than an hour before she starts to get antsy and nervous. And for a short time books gave her a strange tiredness, after reading them for so long and for so many years she couldn’t even stand the sight of them.

But of course, not for long, since Amy found out Andy had a copy of Red’s Dream by a Mr. William Reeves.

Optimist or pessimist: Depends on the situation really, if her mind can’t come up with a solution, then there’s no point in trying anymore. Unless someone else can think of something, that is.

Personal philosophies: “You are here to make good things happen. No person here is made for one reason only, or even only one. There’s no point in pretending to be someone you’re not just for the attention of others, no matter how cool they are. We should find are own meaning, as we’re the only ones who have control of it.

It’ll take a while, but I swear, it’ll be worth it.”

Biggest dream/wish: Amy wants nothing more than to find meaning for herself, but finds it rather hard to do so. Of course, that doesn’t mean she’ll settle for someone else’s meaning. As cheesy as it sounds, she just wants an adventure. She doesn’t necessarily want to be the hero, though, she’s just happy to go along with the ride so long as it gets her out the house for a few hours. She also, above all else, wants Rex to find meaning too, even if she never does, it would be nice to know that he had.

Greatest strength(s): Persuasion, story-telling, logic, and good grammar.

Biggest flaw: Despite being a ragdoll, Amy can’t sew because of her fingerless hands, which are just soft mittens in shape. Amy is also quite a doormat, as I said before, so if her calm persuasion and reasoning doesn’t work, she’s left to be walked all over.

Regrets: Staying in that dratted attic too long, the window was open, she could’ve just climbed out, but no, she had to stay there for some mind-rotting decades. But if she had just escaped, she would never have met her new friends. Amy just wishes she had met them a lot sooner.

Achievements: Escaped the attic, slid down a drainpipe, leapt onto the windowsill (though nearly knocking Woody and Buzz over in the process) stopped her friend from having a panic attack, and managed to remember the entire Dictionary and is able to recite it down from A to Z, and even Z to A.

Secrets: Not much, just strange feelings for one of her friends, but it’s not much of a secret, Bo knows, and Mr. Potato Head and Hamm could see it from a mile away, and the others have their suspicions.

Goals: Read the entirety of Andy’s (and later Bonnie’s) bookshelves, become more confident in herself, have her own book-worthy adventure, and figure out what those strange feelings for her friend is.

~Likes/Favourites~

Favourite colour: Even before meeting Rex, Amy’s favourite colour was always green. Every time Alice had taken her to the park, Amy adored watching the sunlight pour through the leaves with a golden-green glow.

Favourite book(s): Because it’s sentimental to her, being her owner’s favourites, she loves Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Peter Pan, and The Wizard of Oz. They all hold similar plots (a little girl in a blue dress goes to a fantasy land, has a few adventures, and then leaves said fantasy land to go home to her family and responsibilities) but it reminds Amy of her old owner Alice (who was actually named after Alice from Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland) and their playtimes together.

Favourite Book Quotation(s):

“Green is the prime color of the world, and that from which its loveliness arises.”

“There is no living thing that is not afraid when it faces danger. The true courage is facing danger when you are afraid.”

Favourite movie: Amy does much prefer books, since they allow her to imagine the setting and characters in her own way, but doesn’t mind movies, and isn’t picky on what they watch, though she does quite like horror films.

Favourite song: Amy likes any kind of music, new or old.

Favourite game: Amy never really cared for games, the competitiveness always bothered her and stressed her out. But she’s more than happy to watch Rex play his video games and cheer him on.

~Relationships with other characters~

~Rex~

- Hit it off pretty quickly.

- Amy helps him with his anxiety, and helps him find confidence in himself, she acts as a certain therapist to him.

- Both become very stressed without the other around.

- Rex will hold and knead at Amy’s hands sometimes; it calms him down.

- Rex will let Amy ride on his back if she’s tired or needs to see something (Because she’s so short).

- One of them can basically be talking about the most boring-est things ever, yet still the other will hang on to their every word.

~Jessie~

- Became friends pretty quickly.

- Will drag Amy along anywhere.

- Get along fairly well.

- Jessie does the talking and Amy does the planning.

- Jessie always pranks the other toys and makes Amy tag along (along with Hamm).

- Introvert/Extrovert dynamic for sure.

- Both were left in alone for years so like to find solace in each other.

~Hamm~

- Hamm begrudgingly warmed up to the timorous ragdoll.

- Surprisingly good pals.

- Have full conversations without saying anything.

- Like to sit and look out of the window together.

- Hamm makes Amy laugh when she really shouldn’t (mainly when he makes fun of the other toys, mainly Woody).

- Hamm makes fun of Amy having a crush on Rex every once in a while, though he doesn’t mean any harm.

~The Potato Heads~

- Mr. doesn’t really interact with Amy much, but finds her surprisingly tolerable, if a bit high-strung and annoying.

- Like Hamm, Mr. makes Amy laugh at the most wrong moments.

- She and Mrs. Are quite good friends, and she sometimes lets Amy take care of the aliens if she and her husband are busy.

~Woody~

- Are aquianteces.

- Don’t exactly interact much, even though the whole room practically revolves around him, in Amy’s opinion, though she would never say it to his face.

~Buzz~

- Amy thinks he’s super cool (then again, he is Buzz Lightyear, he practically invented coolness)

- Both are just as clueless as one another when it comes to social cues and interactions.

- Amy helps him with vocabulary and spelling every once in a while.

~Mr. Prickle Pants~

- Are absolute BFF’s.

- Go back and forth with book quotes to the point of driving the other toys insane.

~Bo Peep~

- Amy's not exactly sure if Bo has befriended her or not.

- (She has)

- They later become good friends.

- Amy misses their talks, Bo was one of the only toys she could talk to that could keep a secret.

#amy the ragdoll #toy story #oc #toy story oc #character information #original character #oc's #ocs #character development #fan character

[lochrannn]

Warnings: Sexual Content (M Rating)

Characters: Lila Pitts; Diego Hargreeves; Hargreeves Siblings (background)

Relationship: Lila Pitts/Diego Hargreeves

Roommates AU; Fake Marriage; Slow Burn; Mutual Pining

Chapter 1/?

-

So it’s been a week since Lila fooled around with her roommate… her landlord?

… Diego! It’s been a week since Lila fooled around with Diego and she’s just a bit unsure about how she’s supposed to feel about it.

It’s not like things have become completely awkward, per se. They hadn’t been hanging out beforehand, they’d just been two people who were polite and courteous about sharing a living space.

One time she’d offered him the rest of her dinner that she’d cooked when he had come in really late in the evening - he kept odd working hours, but then she’s always thought Americans are bad at striking a healthy work life balance - and she’d kept him company in the kitchen while he was eating. They’d had a pleasant chat and she’d felt reassured then that he seemed like a decent enough guy, but that was basically that.

Until he walked into the living room one sweltering afternoon, while she was in the kitchen, apparently didn’t realise she was there, decided to have himself some alone time, and all of a sudden she was treated to his deep, rich voice making all of these rumbling sexy noises, and when she spotted his face turned up to the ceiling where his head was resting on the back of the couch, eyebrows knitted together, full lips slightly parted, eyes closed in concentration, it hit her like a tone of bricks how fucking hot he was.

So in the spur of the moment she decided to get herself involved. And all things considered, she can’t get herself to regret that. Not least because Diego reciprocated so thoroughly that for the last week she’s not been able to stop thinking about his lips, and tongue, and teeth on her every time she’s bumped into him. And sometimes even completely out of nowhere when he isn’t even around.

She told him not to make things weird after and he’d cockily responded with, “Why would I?”, leant into her where she was still sitting on the sofa, kissed her till she was breathless, clearly encouraged by the way she couldn’t help melting against her, before heading out again and to go and meet some family.

And maybe he isn’t being weird, maybe it’s her. He’s not mentioned it again and they’ve gone back to mostly just living their separate lives while in the same space, but maybe with this gentle underlying buzz of tension that wasn’t really there before.

And Lila’s noticed that when she finished his bottle of fizzy ice tea, he replaced it right away but hasn’t touched it himself since. Curious.

-

And so, of course, they inevitably end up in bed together.

It’s hot, and fun, and maybe a little rough, because she niggles and needles at Diego until he holds her down, until her muscles ache from how hard she’s shaking, and afterwards she doesn’t get up and go back to her room, instead she falls asleep with him, too tired and sated to move.

Lila wakes up in the middle of the night and is just a bit disoriented at first until the memories flood back in and she realises she’s lying with her head cushioned on Diego’s arm and her back nestled up against his side. He must have his face turned towards her because she can feel his breath ever so slightly hit the back of her head.

Idly, she wonders if she should head to her own bed, avoid the inevitable awkwardness of waking up together in the morning. At least, she thinks, her legs will support her now, she wasn’t too sure about that earlier. But she’s so comfortable and it’s been a while since she’s gone to sleep with anyone and not just fucked them, that she decides against bursting their little bubble and instead lays her hand in Diego’s outstretched palm in front of her, interlaces their fingers, and turns her head a bit so she can press her lips to his biceps.

Lila thought he was asleep, but when she kisses his arm she can feel him hum deep in his chest and he turns around and readjusts till he has his whole front tightly pressed to her back and throws his arm over her torso, splaying his long fingers over her belly.

“Hey,” he whispers and kisses her shoulder gently.

With a hum of her own, Lila stretches like a cat, mostly in response to the shiver that runs down her spine at the sound of his voice and then she thinks fuck it and covers his hand with hers and carefully moves it down and in between her legs.

Diego catches on immediately and nudges his knee between her thighs to give them more room to stroke and tease her together and Lila is delighted with the way he lets her direct his fingers, show him where she wants to be touched and how, while Diego scrapes his teeth over the top of her spine and then sucks hard at the spot.

It’s all too much and not enough for Lila, as she feels her muscles flutter around nothing and when she starts grinding into his hand that she’s pressing hard against herself with her own, she feels his arousal nudge against her bum. On impulse Lila tilts her hips further forward and reaches in between her own legs to align them, and before she can push back, Diego nudges his hips against her and pushes into her almost painfully slowly.

As a shaky breath escapes her lips and she hears a very similar noise from Diego, that he hums into her neck, a tiny rational part of her thinks they should have probably stopped to get a condom, but she’s too turned on to hold on to that thought, when Diego starts rhythmically filling to the hilt, never thrusting, never speeding up, just slowly but surely winding her up, until she has to sink her teeth into the flesh of his arm, making him hiss but not draw away, to muffle her loud moans.

Diego’s fingers continue to rub her in gentle but unwavering circles and Lila moves her own hand to feel where they’re joined. And as she feels with her fingertips how he’s stretching her, how tightly her muscles are contracting around him, the dam breaks and the orgasm that has so persistently been building washes through her, making her skin tingle from the roots of her hair to her toes and she makes a small whimpering noise with how she feels it absolutely everywhere.

Diego grunts and she can feel him begin to pull away, so on some possibly hormone driven instinct, she reaches back quickly and clamps her hand on his hip to hold him in place.

“Lila, I’m gonna…” Diego rushes out in a whisper but Lila interrupts him with, “it’s ok!” and a harsh breath escapes him before he pushes into her only a few more times and then empties himself inside her with a soft moan.

They’re both panting despite the fact that they barely moved the entire time and as Lila can feel her heart racing and a warm feeling spreading out from her centre and all through her body and into her limbs, she turns around in Diego’s arms, ignores the slightly unpleasant sensation between her legs, hooks one over his hip so she can hold onto him tightly and softly brushes her lips against his, glad for the dark, because she’s not so sure she knows what she’d do if she could see his expression properly.

Diego responds by tightening his arms around her and deepening the kiss, until all she can focus on is the way his tongue slides against hers, the soft pressure of his full lips, and the way they stretch into a smile as she hums drowsily into his mouth.

Lila loses track of time and at some point they must fall asleep because she wakes in the early hours of the morning, slightly less entangled in Diego’s limbs but still pressed into his side, and in the cold harsh light of day, as her rational thoughts are no longer completely being drowned out by her desire, she realises the stupid mistake she made during the night, and swallowing down her panic, slips out of Diego’s hold and his room to find a pharmacy and a morning after pill as quickly as possible.

-

Diego is drifting in and out of sleep when the comfortable weight at his side suddenly disappears and Lila leaves him in the early hours of the morning, closing the door silently behind herself but somehow the sound nevertheless reverberates around Diego’s sparsely furnished room.

His arm feels so suddenly unoccupied and useless that he tucks it behind his head as he stares up at the ceiling and watches dustmotes float around in the sunlight that filters in through his half drawn drapes.

He doesn’t go back to sleep, even though a quick look at his alarm clock tells him that it’s very early, instead he lies awake and frets.

How has he let this happen again? He’d felt guilty enough about it the first time around and had promised himself not to indulge in anything more with Lila again, whatever his feelings might be and yet now he’s taken her to bed and though she was enthusiastic about it, how can he be fully certain that she doesn’t think he has some kind of expectation now, or that her continued stay in his apartment is somehow dependent on her willingness fuck him?

And then he remembers that he slept with her without a condom.

“Fuck!” he says out loud. He’s not some horny teenager anymore, he knows so much better than this. Unbidden his thoughts drift to his biological mother, a woman he’s never known, and wonders whether she’d been in a similar situation, whether some asshole who couldn’t keep it in his pants had left her high and dry when she got pregnant, leaving her with no other option than to give him away.

Diego covers his eyes with his hand, pressing his fingers into them in an attempt to stave off the tears that are threatening to leak out.

Fuck, he’s a grown-ass man, and he might have a failing business and apparently really shitty luck with women, cause of course the first time he meets someone he feels truly drawn to in years, she’s his fucking tenant, but he’s damned if he won’t take responsibilty for his own actions.

He’s got to get to work, but the next time he sees her, he needs to clear the air with Lila.

#otp: just be gentle #lila pitts #diego hargreeves #dielila #diego x lila #diego/lila #tua #the umbrella academy #fanfic #ongoing fic

[get-shiggy-with-it]

Well, I would like a romantic match up, if that's okay, preferably with a male. She/her. I'm an introvert, timid, distant, kind and polite at first, but once I get comfortable with the situation and new people, I tend to be more chatty, sarcastic and quirkier, more like a goofball in all honesty, overall more honest about my thoughts. I am a dog person with the personality of a cat, so I would like someone who can give me affection and all the cuddles we want but also give me space and time by myself to do the more weird things I like, for example, lip syncing at 3 a.m without reason. Loyalty and attention are very important to me since most people tend to disregard what I like, say or do because I'm mostly quiet. But what I want mostly in a relationship is feeling safe, loved and a sense of belonging with that person (a bit of possessiveness makes me melt). Physically, I am 5'4, chubby, big thighs, arms and a prominent tummy, short dark brown hair, my eyes are a cute tone of dark brown with caramel and gold hues on them that I actually like a lot, but I wear huge glasses, and the dark circles under them don't help my case, also freckles and secret dimples that only appear when I am laughing like a maniac, so they don't appear often.

(I'm sending this now because I may or may not fall into a almost-dead-like-slumber 'cause I can feel it in my eyelids but the energy drinks I've had might be enough, but just in case you do take my request but I'm long gone to actually send it appropriately, if not you can absolutely delete this and move on with your day, please) (oh god, this got a lot longer than I planned to, I'm so sorry)

I hope you're having a great day/night and please do take care of yourself ☺️ Thank you so much!

Ahhh you're so sweet!! Thank you so much! A ship for you, dear 💕

This took me a hot second but I've finally landed on Shoto Todoroki as the boy for you!

It seems from what you've described, you and Todoroki have a similar disposition at least at first glance. That would make it easy to draw him in to you. You're easy for him to understand, both in the sense that you're quiet and generally polite, but also in that you're honest about values, opinions, thoughts, etc...

He finds that hard to gauge in people sometimes, as we've seen, a lot of things go over his head a bit if people aren't being very clear about their intentions. And that hasn’t gone away even now years into his career as a pro.

He appreciates the honesty.

I think you'd also help to take him out of his comfort zone a bit. He's comfortable around you initially, and as more and more of that wit and sarcasm and 'quirkiness' is made apparent, it forces him to stay on his toes and open up himself a little.

Fortunately for you, words are not his strong suit, however, physical affection I think is something he very much understands and very much feels deprived of. Give that boy hug, goddamn. It is certainly not out of character for him to find you just chillin out somewhere and make himself at home with his head on your shoulder, or resting on top of yours. He sleeps like he's trying to crawl into your ribcage, like he really just needs some skin to skin contact.

As long as you're willing to give into that on occassion, whatever the hell else you do in your free time, is not any of his business unless you're looking to share as far as he's concerned.

He likes that you're soft, he likes that you're funny. He never had much of either, and so you'll have to forgive him if he happens to cling just a bit.

Abandoned Options: Tamaki, Mirio, Compress,

#bee's 400 milestone #evierena #bee answers 🐝

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

01. It Became a Thing

AU Grace and Simon story. Takes place in the instance that they never got on the train, but crossed paths and became friends. Few things: I started the story at age 10, but will not stay there long, because I don’t necessarily want to write the length of their traumas, but I did want to at least kick off with that time period. This is being written before the season ends, so no, not canon outside of the train thing, because idk all their business like that.

2410 words and here we go...

He was pretty sure that it was fate that brought him here or something very similar, yet scientific. He didn't really believe in fate. If it was real he hated the fact that his life was meant to be this way.

This way being alone, often attacked for being a little different. None of them seem to know nor care that he was only different because he didn't really have anyone to show him there was another way to be. So, he was just the way that felt comfortable. He thought it was fine! It was fine to be the smartest kid in class, even if focusing on things made him irritated, because they weren’t the things he WANTED to focus on. He thought it was fine rambling on about books he’s writing at the age of 10. He thought it was fine, building little figures, not good expensive ones like his dad had, but like... affordable ones that didn’t work as well and made him work hard for the final product. He thought he was fine.They didn't.

Simon wasn't really in the mood to be beat up today so, he ran, and it was the most his body had ever done. The boy pushed it to the limits. He didn't know where he was going, but he was growing tired, saw a door and he went through it. He rushed into what he later realized was a school not his school, but some other school. Some fancy place. He decided not to run into the bathroom they might check there.

He kept running and running. He turned the corner and down a hallway and he heard the door open behind him. He heard their feet coming! They were following and probably would catch up! He rushed into the first next door that he saw, and that's where he met her.

She was on stage and she was dancing. He looked out of the window and saw his bullies run past the door he ducked crouched and scurried towards a seat in, what he now realized, was some type of auditorium. He'd just wait it out. His bullies would tire of searching for him and go. Maybe they'd catch him tomorrow, maybe not. But, he determined that he was not leaving the seat unless they came in...

She was wonderful. a nice distraction from his current predicament. Her limbs were elegant in their fluid movements and she danced with fierce concentration and sharpened skill. Her hair was pulled up into a bun and the skirt she wore flowed as she moved, but showed her perfect legs. Her skin was amazing too. She was... too pretty for words. He was so mesmerized, he didn't watch the door, so he didn't see when his bullies peeked in the window and noticed him slouching in a seat.

They opened the door, trying to sneak in, but, it was 4 of them. Not as stealthy as one dude in a hoodie, so she noticed them, first.

"Hey! You can't be in here!" she fussed and came storming towards the door. "This is a closed rehearsal!" She had a deeper voice than anyone expected, her being a small, though slightly tall little girl and as she made her way towards them, even though they realized that she was even smaller than he was, there was something about her that startled them.

One of them lied, "We're sorry, Little Cutie, just collecting our friend here."

Now, she noticed him. She looked at him, searching the room, looking desperately for an escape, and she knew - these weren't his friends. She may not have had any friends herself, but she had seen them before. On websites and stuff. They didn't look scared of each other. And she KNEW looking scared. She was often scared. Scared of her thoughts when she was alone, scared of the fact that she was always alone... she looked at the speaker and said, "He's with me."

The boys laughed and she went over to the blond boy and gave him a hug, "Play along," she whispered. Like she had to say that. "I’m finishing rehearsal and he’s my friend, coming to support me as I practice a very hard number."

They didn't buy it. There was no way Sci Fi Si could ever even be FRIENDS with a pretty rich girl, much less... But, she looked to be retrieving a cellphone and they didn't know the penalty for being in this school, so, they left.

She walked behind them and locked the door, just in case. "Thanks. You just saved my life." He said. She frowned at him and his smile faded.

"Are those goons gonna wait around until Midnight?"

"No. They'll just harass and/or beat me up tomorrow." He said, then looked at the ground and muttered, "I'd better bring a change of clothes." When he looked back up, she was staring at him with some confusion. "Sometimes it gets messy." Her eyes widened, but she didn't say anything. She was still just staring at him. He felt like... judging him... he didn't like it.

"How long were you in here?" she asked.

He imitated the music with his mouth, because it was all he could recall of when he sat down. He hadn't checked the time and he didn't know how long he was there or any of the stuff that he saw her do to describe it... She laughed and covered her face with both hands, "Soooo.. you saw some of my worse work. Great."

"That was your worse? It was amazing!"

"What do you know about dance?"

"Nothing but-"

"So, that's what your critique means to me. Nothing." She gave him a fake smile. he looked hurt and she hadn't meant to wound the guy, but... she didn't like for people to see her when she wasn't at her best and this guy HAD. She laughed and touched his arm, "Don't be so dramatic. Technically... it's true. It’s not an insult. You don't know anything about dance, you said so yourself. So, how could you know that I missed steps or didn't nail two moves? I was just being honest... not mean."

He blushed, looked at her hand on his hoodie and too soon, she withdrew it. "Anyway, they're probably gone and I need to get my routine flawless, so.." she unlocked the door and kicked it open, smiling at him.

"Thanks again, ummm...?"

She narrowed her eyes, confused at his weird inflection of voice, but questionably responded, "You're welcome?"

"Simon," He answered the wrong question, but gave her the answer to his anyway. She didn't realize that he was waiting on her name. She didn't know if she should share it. But, he seemed nice enough. He was wearing socks and sandals and they were worn, like he’d been in them for a while, but - he was still waiting.

"Grace Mon..." Usually, she'd say, "Grace Monroe, of the Monroe Square Monroes." But... that would be saying too much in this case.He was a kid, around her age, but he was still a stranger and could’ve had some kind of scheme going with an adult waiting nearby..

"Goodnight Gracemon," he said, genuinely and walked out. She watched him go down the hallway and turn the corner, then she chased him.

"Hey!" he turned, surprised.

"Umm... I should walk you out. At least to be sure those guys aren't outside waiting..."

If it were someone else, someone less pretty, who didn't magically smell nice, even with that undertone of sweat, he'd have asked, "What are you gonna do? Ballet them away?* but, Gracemon had been kind when he needed a save and also, she was checking on him? His mom didn't even check on him...

"And it's just Grace." she laughed awkwardly and she opened the door of the school and glanced around, "Coast looks clear. If... they're after you tomorrow... come straight in. I'll be here."

"Are you almost done?" he asked.

Now, she erupted into a fit of laughter and held her belly. Whenever she caught her breath, she just said, "No. Nowhere near. See you around." she vanished into the building and Simon looked around. It was dark. But... this is a nice neighborhood and she seems used to this... Still... it seemed wrong to leave her. Then again, he had no idea when she'd finish, she probably had a ride, AND, he needed to immediately get started on her character for his novel. Some type of stunning princess or something. Reluctantly, he headed home, with his mind full of a girl he'd just met. He had no idea how much that was gonna become part of his life. He wasn’t sure where he was, but he saw a train station. He’d never been on one by himself before, though...

Whenever he went to the booth to ask questions, he’d missed it, but there were maps, so he looked at one and figured out the way he needed to go to get home. 

Some time later whenever he came running inside, he immediately went into his parents’ room, breathing heavy and said, “Mom! I’m sorry I’m late. I ended up on the other side of town and I missed the train coming back...”

The woman took a deep breath, shut her book and looked at him. “Simon. Did you knock before you came in here?” She asked.

“No, ma’am.”

“Aren’t you supposed to?” She asked.

“Yes ma’am.”

“Yet, you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go now... Enjoy your book, Mom.” She watched him leave and opened her book again. He shut the door behind him and went into the kitchen. Nothing was prepared. He looked into the fridge and saw that they were apparently out of all of the casseroles that the neighbors had brought by. He pulled out a few items, sure that he could make something work with them, but... not really... He might need some help.

His father was in the garage, working on a model train. There were several photos of his little sister, hung up at his father’s work center. “Dad? Are you hungry?” he asked.

Unlike his mother, his father didn’t even glance up at him, though his tone was nice enough, “No, I’ll be fine. You can eat without me.” Simon didn’t know how to tell him that wasn’t why he asked. So, he went back into the kitchen and LUCKILY realized that there was cereal. He could do cereal! Even his sister could do cereal and she had only been... 4. Both of his parents were taking it really hard. He didn’t want to resent them or feel like they loved her more. She was gone and that was obviously painful... But he was still there... And neither of them had cared since they lost her. 

There was no peace. Not at home with these two adults that had given up on him. Not at school with those bullies. He didn’t have anywhere that he could escape. So, he threw himself into fantasy stories, and he was content to live there, if he could have. The only other place that might be better was that auditorium, across town, with the pretty ballerina... that reminded him, he had some drawing to do!

.

Whenever Grace returned to the auditorium, her instructor was there, waiting, stern faced. “Have you been practicing while I ran my errand, Grace?”

“Yes! Yes, I have.”

“Well, let’s see it, then,” the woman gestured towards the stage and Grace rushed to perform her presentation. She felt when she made the same mistakes that she had mentioned earlier to that kid, and although she kept going, it made her chest feel extremely tight to know that she messed up. At the end, the teacher sighed and suggested, “Perhaps I shouldn’t leave you for even a moment. Where were you when I came in?”

“I was walking a kid outside who had stumbled in here, running from bullies,” Grace said, cheerfully.

“Grace... What did your parents say about trying to talk your way out of hard work?”

“It really happened. Just check your footage,” Grace pointed towards the camera. 

“Very well. At any rate, from the top...”

The driver met Grace outside and she was fortunate that she didn’t have to go to school at a crowded school, because after practice, she was always so tired and her body was sore and her feet throbbed. But, not being in a school also meant not seeing other kids. And even coming to this auditorium to practice her part for a dance recital - which her parents insisted she had down pat before ever even meeting the other girls - was such a break from her typical lifestyle. She’d convinced them that she needed to practice on the stage that she would be performing on first, and even had to admit that she didn’t feel confident about dancing with other girls and that she was scared. Her parents hated that word. They translated it to laziness. They translated everything to laziness. She wasn’t “tired,” she was lazy. She wasn’t “sick.” She was lazy...

Just thinking about it made her want to get out of the car one day at a stoplight, run away and never come back. But, where would she even go? She was stuck here. This was her life. She had a recital next week with a bunch of strangers and the most that she had talked to another kid in she couldn’t even remember how long had been a fluke. She wondered if he made it home okay, though. Simon. He seemed like a really nice kid. She wanted to protect him. Wanted to get those bullies to stay away from him. She laughed a little bit, creating these scenarios of how she might rush in and save this kid and then she might have a friend! 

She sighed. Daydreaming was lazy, and she was pretty sure that she was never gonna see that kid again.

Until of course, she did. The next day. She noticed him enter this time, and she smiled brightly, but continued dancing as her instructor counted off counts. That was her best practice yet! And, her instructor even agreed that Simon could stay, as long as it didn’t distract her. Whenever she left, she took him with her and had the car bring him home. It... became a thing. She... made a friend.

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