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u3pxx · 1 month

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PLEASEEE can you elaborate on the gavinners i cant stop looking at them theyre so pretty

sometimes i forget that outside of my friends and servers, i don't really talk much about my gavinners boys* huh! so basically, i originally wanted to make them so i could beef up turnabout serenade in my roleswap au, kind of like turnabout samurai where you have a lot more characters which in turn means a lot more suspects!

but then i realized, wait, i need to make them in the canon-verse first before i could make their swap au counterparts! and so now they exist pftt

here y'all go, i'm gonna be copy-pasting the character descriptions i wrote for them during art fight pftt <3

🥁 DEIDRE MINUENDO

Height: 5'7" (170 cm), 5'9.5" (176) with boots on Birthday: Jul 7 ♋︎ | Pronouns: He/Him, She/Her, They/Them

Deidre is the seemingly gloomy and stoic drummer of the band The Gavinners! At first, it could be difficult to get a read on them but despite all that, they're just like that because they prefer saving their energy. It might not look like it, but Deidre enjoys company even if they're not the most chatty with it and thrives the most when they are around other people (she prefers it if she's around the people closest to her though). Deidre is pretty sensitive and an emotional person even if they don't outwardly express it. To the people close to them, Deidre has a sarcastic streak and can be pretty snappy when it comes to teasing. She can dish it but she can't take it however as they can get slightly irritated when they're teased back. Even if they are a rockstar, they can get embarrassed when people praise or say nice things about them to their face, he tends to brush affection if even if he is secretly flattered by it (he's not gonna admit it though pftt) They also enjoy doodling here and there and like stuffed animals (they have a few of their own!)

Deidre was the closest to Daryan so the events of 4-3 affected him immensely. They felt betrayed and confused and tried to deny that Daryan would be capable of taking another person's life; they scrambled to do everything to protect Daryan from omitting information and even lying on the stand. In the end, all of their efforts were for naught and they felt incredibly guilty for what they've done, especially since she started antagonizing Preston when he was starting to suspect Daryan. They cut themselves off from the group, their job, and stardom. They ended up severely depressed and started to rarely go outside anymore. Only Doremy (Daryan's twin, also a close friend of his) was able to reach him during this time while Viva tried to but he kept refusing to see him. It took them a long time to finally be able to reconnect with the group and it took them a lot of help and support to be able to be well again. Deidre carries Daryan's betrayal to the group heavily and it took a while for her to start forgiving herself.

⚡ VIVA CHI

Age: 25 | Height: 5'9" (175 cm) Birthday: Jan 1 ♑︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Viva is the lively and energetic bassist of the band The Gavinners! Though he may seem goofy and a little unserious, he actually is pretty responsible and is the mediator of the band (as the eldest brother of his siblings and the eldest of the band, he kind of made that his responsibility). He's a forensic scientist and has always had an interest in science alongside music ever since he was young (he thinks Ema is very pretty but she finds him annoying pftt). Viva was the last one to join the band when they were all in high school and despite his extroverted personality, felt a little shy at the time getting to know a new group of people (it's because Preston was there who he may or may not have crushed at while in high-school.) He's a lover of all things caffeinated (especially energy drinks though he should really pace himself) which isn't always the best match to the fact that he's got terrible anxiety and thinks himself down a spiral when he gets too worried.

Once the band disbanded after the events of AA4, Viva, though left in a bad place with his anxiety shot through the roof, fared better compared to the other members. He tried his best to keep in touch with everyone with varying successes despite Daryan's arrest being fresh and hurt. - visiting Daryan in prison to hear his side of the story - popping in to check at Preston in his office because the guy started to take worse care of himself - contacting Deidre even if she was trying to isolate and cut herself from everyone and looking out for Klavier even if he buried himself in his work He took a break from music like everyone else, he still hopes one day they can meet up and play music again, not even as a band, but as a group of friends who loved creating music.

🦇 PRESTON KEISS

Age: 25 | Height: 6'1" (185 cm) Birthday: Oct 25 ♏︎ | Pronouns: He/Him

Preston is the mysterious yet magnetic keyboardist of the Gavinners! Tall, dark, and bewitching; Preston is aware of the impression people have of him at first glance and likes to use that preconception to surprise and even catch people off-guard by purposely being silly or crass. He has a number of odd quirks and mannerisms that he doesn't realize he has, people tend to notice but they often let it pass because he is very handsome (pretty privilege lmao). Preston can sometimes be mischievous and finds certain things amusing only to him even if others don't find it as funny. He's always had an interest in horror and the macabre ever since he was a young boy which developed into a great fascination with the special effects used in old and new horror films alike. (He can be a bit jumpy when watching movies even if he loves to do it, he can't help it if the movie gets to him!) He plays up his whole immortal vampire schtick because the fans tend to theorize if he really was one. (He is not, he'd love to be one though pftt) Preston is very stubborn and adamant about his opinions and can be difficult to sway if he thinks he's correct; he is also quite awkward when it comes to personal matters, as can be seen in his strained relationship with his older sister and whatever romantic thing he's trying to achieve with Viva. He's used to acting larger than life when the cameras are on but being raw and honest has him feeling a little embarrassed and stilted. Preston smokes and keeps it a secret. (Don't tell Viva that!)

Preston was the first person in the band to start suspecting Daryan which he mostly kept to himself at first but wouldn't deny when you asked him (Deidre did not like that.) After Lamirior accused Daryan in court, Preston was determined to make Deidre confront the truth (unfortunately, not taking in why Deidre might be upset and in denial about it) which caused them to have a fight (with Viva being unsuccessful in de-escalating it.) After the Gavinners disbanded, Preston didn't feel very well after Daryan got sent to prison and lost contact with Deidre (whom he hasn't talked to since the case. [he misses them.]) He seemed fine afterward with his workload seeming to increase though upon closer inspection, he's started taking worse care of himself, skipping meals, and losing his interest in music. Preston has a lot of baggage to sort through regarding his friends and his family that will be difficult and painful for him to confront, but rest assured, he's gonna come out of it happy and well.

and here's a compilation of some very old turnabout serenade drawings too :^]

(i didnt make dei's bday turnabout serenade on purpose, it was a tragic happy accident DFGHDJ i wanted his bday to be 7/7 bc i made daryan 6/6 but then the date. i realize the date orz)

#also i dont think ive mentioned this before but ive been thinking about preston being somewhere in the autism spectrum too :^]#ace attorney #deidre minuendo #viva chi #preston keiss #klavier gavin #daryan crescend #the gavinners #sunnysidedoodles #den's gavinners tag #den's ocs tag #sunnysideanswers #id in alt text #described

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charlie-lec-stories · 5 months

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A lovely mess // CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc / Original Female Character

Summary: Four times Charles overreacted to becoming a father and one he actually failed to react. Or Charles being a mess through the best and most scary adventure of his life.

Warnings: None, this is pure wholesomeness.

Author’s Note: This one was inspired by some stories my own dad and uncle told me about the times they had their first children. Yes, some of those stories are based on things my father did when him and my mom were expecting me hahahaha. Rate: PG

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Every man reacts differently to pregnancy, but the most common response is just simply becoming a mess of a human being. And because of that, Charles, for once in his life, could be considerer an average man. He had been exceptional his whole life: excellent student at school, talented in arts, languages and sports, remarkable people skills and loved by everyone. People assumed that he was going to be an exceptional father too, and he knew he was committed to the role since day one, but none of that made the experience less scary. The monegasque had always want kids, he had always pictured himself growing old with a woman he loved and raising a bunch of little humans. When he knocked up his girlfriend he was definitely not planning on becoming a father so soon in his life, but he was happy nonetheless. His history with his girlfriend was kind of complicated too, her family didn't like him much, or more precisely the fact that Charles' job made her travel around the globe, away from her family all the time. He knew that he loved her more than he had ever loved anyone in his life, he knew that every time he pictured himself in the future, that future was shared with her, but it would be a lie if he'd say that the pregnancy didn't complicate things. His in-laws weren't too happy when they found out and Charles' mother was kind of worried about the whole situation. But Charles and his girl loved that little "accident" more than life itself and they actually never cared too much about anyone else's opinions. He convinced his girlfriend to move in with him and she also agreed on keep traveling with him until she ultimately had to stay home for the baby's safety.

"Is six weeks really that bad, Amour? I mean, maybe you're jet lagged or something". Charles nervously wondered from sitting at the bottom of the bed, his girl anxiously pacing around the room.

"That's not how periods work, Charlie". She was trying to stay calm and not bark at him, but that was a difficult task.

"Then let's buy a test and find out". He got up and started walking to the door when she grabbed his arm.

"Wait! You can't just go to a pharmacy and buy a test!". She looked at him like he was insane.

"Why not?". If there was someone humble enough to always forget he's rich and famous, that was Charles.

"Because you're Charles fucking Leclerc, that's why!". She let go of his arm and ran her hand down her face, exasperated. "The press is going to have a field day if you do that".

"Shit, you're right". He sighed and his shoulders sunk. He could see her shaking, scared and stressed and all he wanted to do was give her answers so she could get some peace of mind. "I'm sorry, Amour, I just don't know what to do".

"Let's call Lorenzo, maybe Charlotte can buy it for us".

He watched her take care of everything: call his brother, open the door for him and Charlotte, explain the situation, decide over test brands with his sister in law, drink loads of water, all while he sat on the couch, his mind running faster than he had ever drove his Ferrari. How could she think so clearly even with how scared she was? What would he do if the test was positive? What if she didn't want to keep the baby? Why was he feeling so sad with the mere idea of the test turning up negative? Was he really ready to be a father? There were so many questions and so little answers. He could hear Charlotte walk out the door and his girlfriend go their room, he clearly felt his older brother sit by his side on the couch, but he just couldn't move. Lorenzo said something Charles never caught, too drown inside his own head.

"I really want this baby, Enzo". Was all he let out and his brother just squeezed his shoulder.

Charlotte came back pretty fast, a paper bag with at least five different tests for his girl to do. The older woman explained the younger which ones were more effective so they could compare the results later. The possible future mother lock herself into the bathroom while the other three waited outside. Charles felt like he waited for an eternity before she came out with the five little white sticks. She placed them over a napkin on the coffee table and Lorenzo set the timer. Now, they had to wait again. She was sitting on the same couch he was before, looking at everything but the tests in front of her, so he sat down and took her hand in his, hoping for the contact to be enough to ease her thoughts. He wasn't exactly the epitome of calmness and the sweat that covered his hand made it hard to grip at. She looked at him and smiled, she knew that he was going to be there for them, no matter what, but she was still scared of what he would think, she still needed to know if he really wanted this. Still, she refrained from asking and simply rested her head on his shoulder, searching for comfort on his scent. She had her eyes closed when she suddenly flew to the other side of the couch while Charles' loud yelp filled her ears.

"What the fuck was that?". She looked around, trying to find what could have startled him so much to trow her like that, but all she could see was Charles clumsily trying to grab one of the tests while his feet barely kept him up. She had never seen him so uncoordinated in the two years they had been together. His fingers had a mind of their own and his legs were trembling.

"Two lines, this one has two lines". Charles, who had been quiet and petrified for the past hour, was mumbling like a madman as he showed his brother one of the tests. In the background, the alarm set by Lorenzo started ringing and they all looked down at the coffee table, searching for the lines of truth. Charles grabbed the the tests smiling wide as he showed them to the others. "THEY ALL HAVE TWO LINES". He was hyperventilating, his whole body shaking and Lorenzo couldn't help but let out his loudest laugh as he watched his younger brother loose the little bits of sanity he had. "CAN YOU SEE IT, BABY?!". He shoved the sticks into his girlfriend's face. "It's a baby! We made a baby! Putain de merde! I'm going to be a Papa!".

"Yes, Charlie! I see it!". She said sharing his enthusiasm. But then she saw him go pale really fast. He walked backwards a few steps and Lorenzo caught him from behind before he could fall butt first on the ground.

"Okay, I think you need to process this rollercoaster of emotions while sitting on the couch, Cha". The older Leclerc helped his bother to sit down next to the now confirmed future mama. There, Charles took her hand and smiled, a high-like expression covering his eyes. He may be scared, but he had never been happier.

If Charles' reaction to the pregnancy was that chaotic, it was a sure thing that the following nine months would be as well. Before the first trimester was up, he had already brought another house to move to, where the baby could have their own room and a playroom. He brought every piece of Ferrari merchandizing he could find on the internet, he didn't even care if it was original or not. Was it pretty? Yes. Was it Ferrari? Yes. Then he was buying it. His girlfriend even went to the extent of taking away his cards and threatened with getting rid of wifi to make him stop. He didn't, took her extension in the middle of the night and kept binge-shopping for his baby at 4 am. He brought furniture for the bedroom and the playroom, and then he found his biggest rival till the day. A rival he wanted to beat more than Max Verstappen: a crib. She wasn't even showing and he was already putting a crib together, or let's rephrase it, fighting with the crib and losing pathetically.

"Cela n'a aucun sens". (This makes no sense). He complained while he tried to attach what was supposed to be 'Part B' to 'Part 3.1'. Why there was a part 3.1, he didn't know and was too stress out to try and figure it out. He growled, he literally growled when the whole crib came crushing down in front of him. "Je déteste cette merde". (I hate this shit).

"Charlie? What's wrong? I heard a loud noise". He looked at the mother of his child and all he could feel was embarrassment. "Are you alright?".

"Yes. I'm fine". He answered from the floor, looking at his lap. He wanted to cry, but he also didn't want to upset her.

"Hey, you know you can tell me anything, right?". She sat next to him on the floor and searched for his eyes, but he kept looking away from her. "What is it, Charles?".

"I-". He tried to start talking, but he was cut off by his own sob. She quickly made him turn towards her, looking for injuries, but he seemed to be physically fine. She saw the tears running down his face and did the best she could to wipe the away. Moving to sit on his lap, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed herself flat against him, trying to get as close as she could. He cried on her shoulder, soaking her his hoodie and crushing her with his arms around her waist. They stayed like that for a while, until Charles stopped crying. She scratched his head to calm him down and after some time, he did. In a painfully soft whisper, he admitted his fear to her. "I'm going to be a terrible Papa".

"Don't say that. We both know that's not true". Shushing him, she pulled away and grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. "Is this about the crib?".

"I've been fighting this crib for four days. Our baby is going to sleep on the floor and it's all my fault". She laughed and for a moment, she regretted it, seeing the hurt in his eyes. She calmed down and pecked his lips.

"Charlie, our baby has barely formed their ears yet, you have more than enough time to figure this out". He didn't look convinced at all.

"But what if I don't?". She smiled at him.

"I know you will. Do you want to know why?". He nodded and she ran her fingers through his hair to move it away from his face, so they could look into each others eyes and make him believe her. "Because you already are the best Papa in the world, Charles".

He won against the crib just in time to catch up with the worst part of the cravings period. They were into the fourth month of pregnancy and the little bump was proudly starting to show. Charles couldn't keep his hands away from it. He was constantly touching the bump, kissing the bump, talking to the bump, even scolding the bump whenever he saw some discomfort tinting his girlfriend's face. In the paddock he practically forced her to go everywhere with him and on interviews he answered every question while looking at her. He insisted on people staying at least ten centimeters away from her and he even took upon himself the task of preparing every meal she ate, just to make sure that it was safe and she didn't get food poisoned. He checked places' and foods' temperatures, chairs' and couches' safety, if her shoes were properly tied (at least 20 times a day), the only thing missing was him wrapping her on bobble wrapping. He safety proofed the every hotel room they stayed in so she wouldn't 'accidentally hit the bump against unknown furniture in the dark'. At some point, she had to put a stop to the madness, specially when Charles' newly-daddy paranoia messed with her cravings.

"Amour, what are you eating?". He asked when he caught her hiding with Lando and Max behind the Red Bull garage, a massive greasy half eaten hot dog on her hands. Lando was opening a mayonnaise sachet with his teeth and Max was feeding her french fries with his bare hands, all three of them sitting on the floor. It wasn't exactly the most sanitary situation, but the fuzzy feeling she felt inside her chest thanks to that hot dog made it all worth it. Charles could swear he had an aneurysm just by the sight of it all. "Where did you get that?".

"Uhm...". Her and Lando looked at Max, waiting for him to answer, since he was the one who brought it.

"Well... It's from a professional, I can assure you that, Charles". The monegasque frowned and Max swallowed, scared, just to find out his mouth was completely dry. He wasn't an easily scared guy, but something about Charles' over-protective-dad mood just terrified him.

"And where's the professional's place? Can you show me?". Max, still sitting on the floor, looked at everything but Charles.

"Oh, you see-".

"It's from the stand outside of the paddock". Lando blurted out, followed by him covering his mouth with both his hands and the three of them heard Charles growl.

"Max did you just feed my pregnant girlfriend a hot dog from a dirty street-stand? YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THE PERSON WASHES THEIR HANDS-"

"They definitely don't, I mean, they don't have where to".

"Lando, you're not helping me, mate". Max advised, not moving his eyes from the fuming Charles above him. Then the pregnant girl decided to intervene.

"Charlie, babe, it's okay. I asked him to buy it for me". Charles then looked at her, his gaze softening a little, but still angry.

"Amour, you know that's not good for you". He walked to her and hooked his arms under hers to help her off the floor.

"But the baby wanted it". Max still followed Charles, afraid of what the future father could do to him for messing with his unborn baby's diet. Lando stayed very still, hoping to make himself invisible. "I was just craving this so bad! And you never let me have this type of food. The baby is fine, I promise".

"Don't do that face, it's not fair". He complained when she gave him her best puppy eyes. She didn't stop, and he finally dropped the attitude. "Okay, maybe we can make some room for a hot dog once in a while. But you have to keep eating healthy, we don't want the little Tifosi to come out malnourished".

"Yay!". She squealed and hugged him tight, the hot dog almost falling from her hand. Charles hugged her back and then directed his gaze towards the other two drivers.

"And you two". Max and Lando looked at him wide-eyed. "This better be the last time you pull off something like this. Did I make myself clear?".

"Yes, sir". Both said at the same time and got up from the floor.

"Okay, go on. And think about what you did". They nodded their heads, Max handing the girl the fries and then walking away with Lando.

"I like you daddy-voice". Charles shrugged at her comment.

"Amour, don't call it that or I won't be able to use it without laughing".

Charles' paranoia got better. He calmed down a little, but then the fear of being a bad father came back. Around the seventh month, already knowing they were having a boy, Charles found himself with insomniac. At the beginning of the pregnancy he was scared of not knowing what to do to take care of a baby's basic needs: bottle feed, change diapers, help him to sleep, and things like that. But as the date of the delivery got closer, Charles' fears shifted to the more existential type. What if he was unable to guide his son through life? What if he failed on teaching him good values and a strong sense of ethics? What if he ended up raising a spoiled kid, arrogant and narcissistic? What if he couldn't make his boy happy? What if his kid hated him? Those questions kept him up at night, turning over and over on the bed, and cold sweat covering his body. He would walk to the baby's room and look at the painting his girlfriend did on the walls, the name 'Jules' written on lilac on a clear sky, over the race track so carefully crafted. What if his son didn't want to race cars? What if he was forcing him to do so when he wasn't even born? Sitting on the rocking chair, he would look out the window, the yachts at the bay clearly visible from there. What if his son didn't like Monaco? What if his son would rather adopt his mother's nationality and culture over his? The dark sky adorned with shinny little dots would look back at him without answers.

"Charlie? Why are you up, love?". He heard his girl's sleepy voice call out to him from the doorway. He smiled at her, his eyes glossy as he fought the tears that wanted to escape.

"Just thinking, Amour. Don't worry". He gave her his best smile, but she could read his real feelings underneath it. "Go back to bed, I'll join you in a minute".

"I think we love each other enough to cut the bullshit, babe". She walked further into the room and stopped in front of him, her big belly at his face's height, and he couldn't help but reach forward and kiss it. "What is it?"

"It's... it's just a lot and it's late. Don't worry, really-"

"Charles, I'm not sleeping until I'm convinced that you're alright". He sighed, and pulled her to his lap. The weight was a little bit more than what he was used to, but he loved that, it made it impossible for him to overlook the fact that his baby was there, with them. He made her rest her back against his chest and rocked he chair, hugging her tight against him and resting his chin over her shoulder. They both looked out of the window and she patiently waited for him to tell her what was going on inside his mind.

"I'm scared. I feel this huge responsibility over Jules". She smiled, loving whenever they talked about their baby using the name they choose for him. "I just want to be a good Papa, but I'm so scared of messing up, of making the wrong choices, of using the wrong words, of leading him in the wrong direction. What if I don't raise him right? If I'm not a good role model?"

"Well, you're not alone in this, Charlie, I'm with you till the end of the line. Like Bucky and Steve. I know that we'll be alright. I just know it". She sounded so sure of herself. He wished he could be that sure about everything.

"How do you do it? How do you manage to always be so sure and composed?". She laughed and he felt the baby kick under his palm, he always kicked when she laughed.

"I've been the least composed person and you know it, Charlie! I break down crying at least five times a day. You've seen that! You're the one who comforts me every time". He laughed softly, that was true, those had been some pretty crazy seven months. A true rollercoaster of emotions. And they still had two more months to go. "I know that we'll be alright because we're already asking ourselves these questions. Because we care about Jules so much that we truly take time to think things through. We are going to be alright because we love our baby and we both know we will always do the best we can for him. We won't let the bad choices from our parents be repeated and we'll make sure to copy the best from them to give to Jules. That's why I'm so sure". She turned to look at him for a moment. "I trust you to be the dad of my baby because I know how great of a human being you are, Charles".

"I love you". He said, feeling a lot better. He kissed her tenderly, and then another kick was felt under his hand. "Thanks for being here for me, Amour".

"Always, just as you had always been for me". She nuzzled her nose against his. Another kick and they both laughed. "Let's go back to bed, Papa".

The two months passed by in a blink. Charles asked Ferrari to give him a leave of absence for the first two races of the season. He wanted to be world champion, but he would rather be there when his son was born. Ferrari let him take his time, but Jules decided to be born at eight and a half months. It seemed like he couldn't wait to meet his parents, because everything happened so fast that Charles had barely had any time to react. They were having lunch at his mother's house, and he was having the best time. His girl looked amazing, all radiant and happy, her belly covered by a cute but comfortable dress, his sisters in law both touching the belly and fighting for godmother duties. Lorenzo and Charlotte were definitely the chosen ones, but they hadn't tell anyone yet, after all both Lorenzo and Charlotte were there for them when they needed them. His mother was showing him little clothes that she had crocheted for Jules and his brothers discussing which one was going to be the 'responsible uncle' and who the 'funcle'. Arthur was definitely unable to be the responsible one, so he was already chosen to be the 'funcle'. Every conversation was cut short when the faint voice of the future mama rang through the air.

"Charlie". Her shaken voice called out, and he turned around to see what she needed. There was a wet patch under her and she was grabbing her belly, a painful expression on her face. "I think my water broke".

"The baby is coming!". Arthur shouted excitedly, but Charles' brain just stopped functioning. He saw everyone running around to grab things, Charlotte and Carla helping his girl out of the house and towards his car, Lorenzo grabbing the baby bag the carried around just in case since the beginning of the last trimester, Arthur pushing him outside and his mother speaking, but he just couldn't move. H was petrified. He felt like his blood pressure had dropped in a second and if it wasn't for Arthur behind him, he would have certainly fallen to the ground. His mother took his car keys out of his pocket and then they pushed him on the back seat, next to his girlfriend. Her hand crushing his brought him back from his outer-body state and he was able to react, turning to face her and running his other hand down her arm, doing his best to sooth her.

"It's okay, mon amour. Breath, breath with me". He instructed her and he started to exaggerate his breathing so she could copy her. She did and that calmed her down enough to count the seconds between one contraction and the next. "That's it, Amour, you're doing so good". He praised her and she smiled a little, her happy expression cut short by another waive of pain. She screamed and cried, sweat covering her forehead and running down her face, mixing with her tears. It was probably the most messy she had ever looked, but he had never seen her as beautiful as in that moment. "I love you so much". He whispered it, but by the squeeze she gave to his hand, he knew for sure she was saying it back. "We're almost there, hung on a little longer".

He almost carried her out of the car and into the hospital the second Arthur parked the car. Then, they found out that she was ready to deliver in that second. Jules didn't want them to keep him waiting, she was brought to the delivery room and Charles was given surgical gown so he could join her. Inside, the whole process was quick, in 30 minutes, Jules was crying on the doctors arms and Charles could feel his heart skip a beat. Wrapped on towel and with the small hat they had for him on, Jules was passed on to his mother, who took him instantly while she cried her eyes out. Charles, still on delay with reality, was trying to process the information. That was his baby, he was finally there, he could finally touch him. The doctor walked to him, placing a hand on his shoulder, Charles couldn't stop looking at his girl and little Jules. He heard a softly "go ahead, meet your boy", and that was enough for him to place a shaking and gentle hand on Jules' head. He ran his thumb over the soft little cheek and the tears started to fall. He felt his girl's hand wipe away his tears and heard her laugh softly. She just found funny that after overreacting about every little thing for the past eight months, Charles was barely able to react that day. He was a mess in that moment, but he was the perfect mess in her eyes. The most extraordinary mess. He finally smiled and reached down to kiss her head, then he looked at Jules.

"I am your Papa, Jules. I love you. I'm so happy to finally meet you".

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I hope you guys liked this one!

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader

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yourlocalsmutwriter · 7 months

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A dramatic overture - Bada Lee x reader

You were a bit of an unusual ballet dancer. To put it plainly, you were a bit of a fuckup sometimes. But wasn't everyone? Apparently not, according to your overbearing mother. And your choreographer, the infamous Bada Lee. How you landed in her troupe was a mystery.

Not only was she an insanely talented leader, she had been a phenomenal dancer beforehand. Other girls like Lusher and Tater flourished under her guidance. You, on the other hand still needed some work.

And that is exactly what you did. Day and night you practiced tirelessly. After all, ballet was an art, and weren't all the greats tortured and starving? You were eating still, the only pleasure you allowed yourself. The rest was wake up, go to dance, go home, and then repeat the cycle again and again. But your efforts paid off in the end.

And you had perfected your routine just in time for your audition. You were doing Swan Lake, a staple in the community for dancers and the audience as well. And of course, Bada wanted to put her twist on it. So at the end of the season there would be a special ''modern'' retelling of the plot, with all original choreography from her. You were excited. As stereotypical it was, you loved Swan Lake. It was the ballet that made you want to be a dancer in the first place. And Odile was your dream role ever since you were a child. So you tried to brush off your insecurity and worked for it.

You had been to the studio at such late hours that your parents started to suspect you had a boyfriend. You didn't have the heart to tell them that a boyfriend was the last thing they would ever have to worry about it. So you brushed it off and insted went in during your allocated dinner hours. And since you absolutely hated breakfast and really anthing early in the morning, you were down to one meal a day. It's not like you planned it and it wasn't affecting you that badly. At least thats what you thought at first. But by hour 4 of practice, you were exausted. You did a turn and felt your body go limp. You tried to break your fall in, but you still slammed to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Your fall must have been serious because Bada rushed in. You didn't even know she was in the studio then. You prepared fora lecture and her berating you on your stupidity and carelesness. But instead she let you lean on her and get to her office. There, you sat on a comfortable plush chair as she brought you a sports drink and an icepack. You were too tired to think about where her personal fridge was located and just how big it was. As your pain got lighter, you could focus more on what she was saying.

''And please, be careful. I see you work hard. But don't neglect yourself too much. The most important thing to focus on is your health. And as for the role, don't worry, there's plenty of roles, plenty of other shows.''

While she was right, you were stubborn. But you did not have a death wish, so you scaled back your practices by only 15 minutes, but it's the thought that counts. And also you started packing sandwiches. And little by little, it came time for auditions. Surprisingly, Odile was still popular, so you were up against the stars of your group. Still, they relied on their already existing talent and hadn't really bothered to memorize new techniques. And you had worked hard, building a completely new persona for your dancing. And that did not go unnoticed by Bada. So her decision was easy. Almost as easy as the way you cried tears of joy upon seeing the cast list. You had it. The role was yours. The pain was over.

Little did you know, the pain was just beginning. Now it was just a lot. while Odile was a background character most of the time, there was still her solo. And you dreaded it. Not only the dancing but also dancing with a man. It's not like you had anything against men. In fact, you were on good terms with most of the male members of the troupe. You just couldn't feel the necessary passion and attraction needed to dance with them. And you couldn't fake that love, even on stage for just a few minutes. But you managed. Bada had some minor critiques, which you corrected. And so the first cour of your performances began. Your choreographer had you do a limited summer run with the original production. Then, in the quieter ballet months you'd train again for her version of Swan Lake.

You were excited to play Odile twice. But little did you know, in Bada's version the cast would be all female. And you found out that last.

While you were on your last regular performance, she pulled you aside and told you there would be some changes to the cast list. She watched your face pale for a few seconds before adding that your spot would not change. And you swore she added a wink at the end, just to torment you.

Maybe it was worry. Maybe it was a stomach bug from all the supermarket sandwiches. But you were too sick to make it to rehearsal. You called your choreographer and almost tearfully apologized over and over again. Yet, Bada reassured you. Your role was not in the first acts anyway, so she'd focus on them now. But little did you know, she was simultaneously holding auditions. And she made sure to take down the new cast list before you return.

It was worth the hassle and the looks of bewilderment from the other dancers. Because she essentially saw you go through every stage of gay panic in the span of 5 minutes.

You walked in the studio, seeing her. She queued up the pas de deux music and walked over to the oposite side of the room. She stood on the blocking of your partner's position and motioned for you to take your place. When you were still frozen on your spot, she began explaining.

''We're in Bada's version now. And seeing how abysmall your chemistry was with the male leads, I made some changes.'' she said.

''If I was so bad, why didn't you say something. Why didn't you recast me.'' you questioned.

''You're a good dancer. And besides, it was just Swan Lake. I cannot be revolutional, I don't want to claim I can rewrite the story better. But making my cast all female of my own show, that's another thing. A modern retelling of a classic. With a strong message on how love isn't dictated by the gender binary. These tickets will sell like fresh bread.'' she explained

''And you're coming out of retirement to do this.'' you added, getting it now.

''Jackpot.''

''So you're doing this to get money.''

''I'm doing this for art. And to keep your fees from raising. Costume, set decor, rent on the studio, I'm guessing you don't want to pay that. Unless you do, then get in position.''

Her movements were so fluid. Additionally, she could lift you with ease. The thing is, every time she touched you, it felt like electricity was running through you. So you couldn't really focus and fumbled. Bada was a bit annoyed, but then she started over. Still, you were rattled. Why did this make you feel this way? Bada was attractive. But why would her appearance affect you so much? And now? So you continued to dance, pushing away the thoughts for some time. And it worked for a bit. You two managed to complete the routine. And did it again a few times again, to solidify it.

And then you did it perfectly. You would never use that word lightly, but it was true. It was a million times better than with your male partners. So you were confident that you would nail it.

''Okay, you have the energy now. Let's start learning the routine.'' Bada said.

You were confused. You knew your choreography, and you were wondering if there was a light misstep on your part. And then, Bada started a completely new dance. You wondered when she had the time to choreograph this. It was a completely different way of moving, looking more like a street style. You had never danced like this. But clearly, Bada had. She was so good, even better than with ballet. Was this on purpose? Or was it just her trying to showcase a skill? But why throw you under the bus? You could talk to her about it. Ask her to pull back on some moves, but still add that Bada flare. But you didn't do that. You just tried to copy her moves. You were a professional, so you could pick it up. And it's not like you picked up ballet in one go.

So you tried again. And again. And again. At first, Bada was guiding you very closely, being next to you, correcting your posture with her hands. After a few hours of that, she gets tired of this and sits down, just giving you oral feedback. That frustrated you. And the fact that she kept forcing you to practice over and over again. And at the end of the day, you were just tired and ended up just going home, with no progress on your end. The thing is, you tried again and again. You ended up having a sleepless night in order to get something done. And even though you were dancing like there was no tomorrow, there was little progress.

But you just kept at it. Rehearsing. Going home and dancing there. By the time you went to sleep, it was time to get up again. On days when you weren't training you'd just sleep and eat, calling it a day. You were becoming slovenly. Makeup and brushing your hair were becoming luxuries and so were laundry and showers. And the worst part is, you weren't improving. Street dancing was just not your thing. But it was everyone else's thing. Bada and the whole group could do it. Except you. You were the outcast again. And for no reason. It's not like you were bad at performing in your signature style. What pissed you off the most was surprisingly Bada. She was the incompetent one, not you. She couldn't lead you properly. You hoped she would help and you were called to her office at the end of the day. But instead, you got chewed up. Midway through her rant, someone stormed in, talking to her about a defaced poster and how it was going viral, but not in a good way. She excused herself and promised she'd be back soon. But 5 minutes past. Then 10. Then 15. And the whole time Bada's phone was buzzing with notifications. It was driving you insane. So you reached out to put it on silent mode. But something caught your eye. All the notifs were from a groupchat called TEAM BEBE and the picture was that of the troupe. So you looked at the messages and everyone was talking about you. Lusher, Tatter, even Cheche, they were all bad mouthing you. Making fun of you for the things, that were beyond your control. You had had enough so you just stormed out of there.

So you did the only thing you could think of. You dressed for revenge. First, you went to a salon to reverse the damage to your hair. Then you actually took time and booked a morning makeup session at the MAC counter, making sure to add a striking red lip. To top it all off, you decided to get some new clothes for the rehearsals. A few sexy and black pieces later, you had wiped out your salary. But none of that mattered.

While your transformation was already almost unbelievable, you knew it wasn't enough to shine to dazzle your so-called teammates. But the first person with a target on their back was Bada herself. After all, she was the one that got you into this mess in the first place. So you knew just how to make her regret it. But your plan wasn't exactly foolproof. And you were about to find that out.

First, you joined Bada in your usual practice room. It was surreal to see yourself reflected in so many mirrors while looking like this. You brushed it off. You began the routine and messed up horrendously, this time on purpose. You kept butchering it again and again until Bada stood up begrudgingly to help you. As soon as she got close enough, you pushed her back, watching her topple to the ground, her spine contorting into a graceful, sweeping curve. She was beautiful, even when falling. You wasted no time in straddling her waist, fully prepared to fight her. By then, she was fighting back too, trying to knee you, making you enclose your legs against her thigh. Bada pushes you back, but her hands meet your chest. And you fucking moan. She just raises an eyebrow and looks at you. Then she moves her hands to your hips, making you rock back and forth.

''If a good fuck is all you need to dance correctly, I'll give it to you princess,'' she said. You were about to protest, but she flexed her thigh and you were a goner. You let her take control completely. Bada made you grind your hips on her, to hump her leg like a horny pet. She snapped off the buttons of your leotard, so your bare pussy was rubbing against her. Your wetness was all over her black pants.

''Bada, I'm going to cum.'' with that your mentor bounced her leg up and down. You leaned towards her and kissed her as your orgasm took over you. She helped you ride it out and watched as you rolled over on the floor, panting and tired. Bada watched you for a minute and then said.

''Oh, my darling, I'm just getting started with you, so you better get up.''

Taglist: @withoctober

#street woman fighter 2 #swf2 #bada x reader #bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 x reader #bada lee fanfic #bada lee x y/n #bada lee x oc #bada lee smut #black swan #thigh riding

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fashion4standusers · 10 months

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FFSU’s Fan Fashion Week!

*ETA: Works posted to AO3 can be tagged as "FFSU Fashion Week"!*

I’ve had the concept for this in my head for AGES but never got around to posting it. I originally planned to run it as an event during a certain time period, but I found that making it an event intimidated me out of actually making the idea happen. I just think that I’m a lot more confident in my ideas when I don’t overthink it! Therefore, instead of running an event, I’m just putting this challenge out into the atmosphere for people to take it and run with it.

REBLOGS GREATLY APPRECIATED!

Everything you need to know is in the graphics, and here’s a plain text version as well:

Fashion For Stand Users’ Fan Fashion Week Challenge: a 7-day art and/or fic-writing challenge!

Art Prompts:

- Day 1: Runway

Draw your chosen character(s) in an outfit from a designer runway! Check the blog archive or Vogue Runway for references and modify the look however you want.

-Day 2: Subculture

Draw your chosen character(s) in the fashion of a certain subculture: goth, raver, scene kid, etc.

-Day 3: Style Swap

Draw two or more characters swapping their canon outfits, or simply wearing outfits more suited for the other person's vibe and aesthetic.

-Day 4: Historical

Draw your chosen character(s) in the fashion of another era.

-Day 5: Redesign

Redesign, reinvent, or modify the canon outfit(s) of your chosen character(s).

-Day 6: Formal

Draw your chosen character(s) in gowns, tuxedos, and other fancy clothes.

-Day 7: Free Space

Draw any kind of outfit(s) you'd like for your chosen character(s)!

Writing Prompts:

- Day 1: Character Study

Write about why a character dresses or looks the way they do. Why do they like the clothes they wear? Do they wear something with personal significance? How do they want the world to see them?

-Day 2: Makeover

Write about a character getting a makeover from another. Are they getting new clothes, a new hairstyle, new makeup? Is it just for fun or a sign of a bigger change?

-Day 3: AU

Write about an alternate universe where the characters are models, fashion designers, hairstylists, makeup artists, etc.

-Day 4: Disaster

Write about something going horribly, horribly wrong: wardrobe malfunctions, makeup mishaps, over/underdressing, etc.

-Day 5: Shopping Trip

Write about characters going shopping together and all the shenanigans that ensue.

-Day 6: The Event

Write about a character getting ready for or attending an upscale event. Who are they going with? What are they wearing? How are they feeling?

-Day 7: Free Space

Write about any scenario you'd like, as long as it's about clothing or fashion!

Rules:

Have Fun!

This is obviously a JJBA blog, but feel free to use this challenge for OCs and other fandoms! If you plan to modify the prompts, make different graphics, or make your own version of the challenge for a different fandom, be sure to credit this blog or link back to this post!

Mention @fashion4standusers in all your posts to give credit! You can also tag your posts with #ffsufashionweek, and if your work is about JoJo, I would love to share it on the blog. If you post outside of Tumblr, include a link to this post!

Don't think you can do it in a week? Want more time to write longer fics, make more detailed art, or just develop your idea more? No worries, just work at your own pace! The concept of the challenge is a reference to the various Fashion Weeks that happen around the world, but by no means is it restricted to any real time frame!

Only want to write or draw for a few of the prompts? Maybe only one? Wanna work out of order? Go ahead! This is a challenge of course, but if you just aren't connecting with some of the prompts, don't force it!

Feel free to use the ideas you come up with for this into more in-depth works!

It's never too early or too late to give it a shot, and I'll always keep an eye on tags and mentions for new additions!

#ffsufashionweek #jjba #JoJo's Bizarre Adventure #jjba fanfic

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seyaryminamoto · 3 months

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Fic-to-Art #38: Ozai carries Azula to the physicians' wing

This has been done for A WHILE now, but I didn't post it because the past days have been chaotic and not just on a personal level. For one thing, I really wasn't eager to drop this when people were losing their shit massively over the liveaction and its recontextualization of Azula and Ozai's dynamics, I didn't look forward to releasing this just to be told that whatever I've done in my story is somehow wrong, sooooooooo... that held me back, for a few days.

Then? The AI-Tumblr deal started to be talked about and I may or may not have freaked out about that too. Sooo... this is the first glazed and nightshaded piece of my creation, as consequence. The original, clean and proper version is available in my Patreon. Is this me being a dick to Tumblr-only people? Unfortunately, it very much isn't, I'm not trying to say that if you want the best iterations of my art, you should pay me for it... this is squarely, entirely, at staff/the CEO's feet. Obviously, there's the insecure side of me that goes "what makes you think they'd steal YOUR art when there are so many better artists out there!" but ultimately? AI is about taking everything en masse. It isn't a matter of developing a criteria about who makes the better art... it's just taking EVERYTHING and trying to repurpose it in whatever twisted way it needs to. Therefore? I think my choice is more of a matter of caution than anything else. Once AI bullshit dies out (and I really hope it does), we may just return to the same level of quality across all my accounts. For now, it is what it is.

ANYWAY! Point is this artwork is very much what my Patrons happened to vote for this month, a very shocking scene where Ozai reacted in the least foreseen way to Azula being attacked. Azula's confusion/terror comes from a place of not knowing what to do and being powerless to stop her father even if she doesn't feel comfortable with his help... but for once, Ozai isn't making a dreadful choice that will only devastate his daughter. He's actually worried about her health... and feeling genuine guilt over what landed her in the situation where she was in danger in the first place. Yes. I like me my complex Ozai who finally learned actions have consequences. He bores me to death otherwise :') if anyone STILL doesn't know that this whole situation is Gladiator-specific, then I shall clarify fully: this is artwork based on my fic. It's about a story that has been developing these characters for ALMOST ELEVEN YEARS now. It has nothing to do with whatever's going on in canon or in the liveaction, the scene in question was written almost two years ago and the artwork proposed and voted for several days before the liveaction aired. Ergo: there is no connection between this and that. Nor am I saying through this piece that Ozai is a good father. He is not. He can still be an interesting character to work with on a narrative level anyway :')

Alright. With that out of the way, hope you guys like this piece! The big one I haven't posted is ALSO finished, also glazed and nightshaded, but I think I might just end up posting it on the 26th if I don't have time to do anything big for our eleventh anniversary... yep, I'm so busy I don't even have a huge project in mind this time. Also? I have a lot to write and I'm finally happily writing it, and I would like to continue doing that...

Anyway! If you would like to be part of the creative process behind this piece, as well as see it in its proper, OG, less color-bleeding clunky version? A $1 Patreon pledge gives you the chance to join in suggesting prompts, voting for them and reading Gladiator snippets 6 days before a new chapter is released!

#fic-to-art project #ozai #azula #obviously this was the February piece #and I'm very sorry for the long time it took me to post it but #god I hate it every time there's any “new” thing going on in this franchise #has nothing to do with me and yet it's always a pain because people with the STALEST takes #start to spring out and start trying to police what's going on in the fandom #even people with sense are saying things that blow my mind lately #... so yeah I don't feel entirely safe posting anything to do with my work lately #but hopefully that will change :')#for now enjoy this one

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just-here-with-my-thoughts · 3 months

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Day 19: "Please Don't" / Adrenaline Crash

@febuwhump prompt: "Please Don't" @badthingshappenbingo prompt: Adrenaline Crash

Fandom: The Bad Batch Characters: Hunter, Omega, Wrecker, Tech, Echo (Did you read Day 5: Rope Burns / Bound & Gagged and Day 12: Semi-Conscious / Over-the-Shoulder Carry? This is a continuation! Follow the links above to catch up on the story so far) Word Count: ~3005 Click here to read on AO3 Also available in Russian (with thanks to @tech-o-mania for the amazing translation!)

Synopsis: Hunter loses control as he hunts down the mercenaries who captured and injured Omega.

Art by the awesome @collophora of my gorgeous Feral Hunter! Thank you so much for this beautiful pic and letting me post it with my fic, everyone go view collophora's original post HERE and tell them how great they are! <3

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Omega swings her legs as she sits on the edge of the table, watching as Tech methodically extracts embedded strands of hessian from the wound on her left wrist. Her right is already swathed in bandages, the bacta gel bringing a soothing numbness that dulls the pulsing pain to a background throb.

She draws her breath in as a hiss though her teeth at a particularly painful pull, and Tech glances at her to check she is okay. He doesn’t continue until she nods to give him permission to do so.

The com at the engineer’s wrist crackles to life. “Come in, Tech.” It is Wrecker’s voice, low and urgent.

Tech pauses his ministrations to answer the com. “What is it, Wrecker?”

“I need backup.”

The big clone’s voice over the com is deadly serious, none of his usual joviality.

“What is your status?” asks Tech, his voice taking on a more clipped edge.

“It’s Hunter.”

Tech quickly looks up at Echo, and Omega doesn’t miss the alarmed look that passes between them.

“Will you and Omega be alright by yourselves?” Tech asks, putting the tweezers back in the medkit and standing.

Echo nods, resting a hand on Omega’s shoulder. “Don’t worry about us. Go help Wrecker.”

“Help Wrecker with what?” asks Omega, getting to her feet and looking first at Tech, then Echo. “Are they in trouble?”

“You are still in need of treatment,” says Echo firmly, trying for a smile which comes out too tense to be reassuring. “I’m sure Tech will manage without us.” He gestures back to the table. “Sit back up, and I’ll finish your wrists.”

Tech is gathering his equipment, and Omega leans past Echo to see him set his pistol to stun.

“I want to go with Tech,” she protests softly. “I want to check that Hunter and Wrecker are okay.”

Echo and Tech exchange another look. Omega is getting pretty tired of the unspoken conversations they share with their eyes.

“Finish attending to Omega’s wounds,” says Tech eventually. “Then you may follow… carefully.”

Hunter’s pistol is in his left hand, balanced on his forearm which is crossed in front of his body, vibroknife held blade outwards. The hum of adrenaline is in his veins, pulse pounding, slowly building to a tense knot of pain at the base of his skull which will surely become a migraine later.

Two more mercenaries up ahead, just out of sight. He can hear them.

Hunter doesn’t have to think about softening his footfalls. The predator’s stealth comes naturally to him.

In moments he is around the corner and the two men are ten paces ahead, weapons out as they scout the corridor.

They don’t know that death shadows their movements.

In his ear, the com pings. Hunter shakes his head, shutting it off irritably. Not now. Whatever his brothers want, it can wait.

He rolls to his toes, picking up speed. Closes the gap in a sprint.

One shot with his pistol. The laser-burn eats through the first man’s skull. The second turns but Hunter is on him, and the vibroknife tears out his throat before he can cry for help.

Hunter pauses for a moment, surveys his work. That makes four of them he has eliminated now. Four of them who harmed his Omega. Four of them who will never threaten her again.

A high-pitched whine, like tinnitus, sets up in his head. He pulls his helmet off, rubbing his ears, trying to chase away the source of the sound.

His helmet is dropped to the floor, forgotten, as he sets off to find the rest of his quarries.

Tech tilts his datapad towards Wrecker. “I have picked up the bounty hunters’ com channel. They seem concerned that they cannot raise a number of their companions.”

Wrecker looks up from fitting binders to the two mercenaries he has captured. “Hunter won’t waste any time,” he says gruffly.

“He may have deactivated his com, but I can still track his locator beacon,” says Tech. “Leave these two here. We must catch up to Hunter as soon as we can.”

Hunter crouches on the narrow gangway, watching the knot of mercenaries in the hangar below. Five left. Their conversation drifts to him but it is just noise. He can’t make his head understand the words.

It doesn’t matter what they are saying. Hunter will be among them soon, and their words will give way to screams and then they will be dead. He plans to make sure of that.

The migraine closes its vice-like grip on his consciousness and Hunter pulls his bandana off, trying to ease the pressure at his temples. A faint aurora halos his vision, sparkling in the periphery. His back teeth ache.

He creeps along the perforated metal walkway, feeling it sway a little from the suspension cables that keep it aloft. He holsters the pistol, curling the fingers of that hand around the rail instead. His right hand continues to clutch the vibroknife like it is an extension of himself.

Almost directly above them. From here he can drop onto the group, break his fall with one of their bodies, before wreaking his vengeance.

Hunter climbs silently to the railing. Leans over the edge, gravity pulling at his body, braced now on the outside of the walkway.

Ready to drop.

Echo spots the pair of bodies before Omega does. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder and ventures forwards cautiously, already knowing what he will find.

He is surprised to see the half-skull of Hunter’s helmet staring up at him from between the fallen mercenaries. He scoops it up and checks the wiring. The com is undamaged. It has been deliberately disabled.

Behind him he hears Omega.

“Tech, come in. Did you find Wrecker and Hunter?”

She has her bandaged hands pressed to her com, trying to raise her brothers. Echo hurries back to her, Hunter’s helmet in hand. Omega’s eyes go wide as she sees it.

“Is Hunter okay?” she asks in a fearful whisper, reaching out to brush the side of the helmet. The fresh bandages across her palms come away stained red.

“Don’t worry,” mutters Echo, “it’s not his blood.”

There is a moment of confusion before the meaning of his words dawns on Omega. She leans past him to peer down the corridor. Two bounty hunters. Not unconscious. Dead.

“Oh,” she says in a small voice. Then, looking up at him with a determined frown, “We need to find Hunter.”

Wrecker and Tech press tightly to the door-frame, one on either side of the corridor that has brought them to this hangar. Tech’s datapad says this is where Hunter should be, but all they can see are the clustered mercenaries.

Wrecker is the first one to look up. His hands move in a quick signal sequence, drawing Tech’s attention to their brother in his ambush position.

“Hunter,” breathes Tech. And as though it is a command, Hunter drops.

The chaos is immediate. Hunter is amongst the mercenaries, pistol forgotten, knife indiscriminately biting through cloth and armour into flesh. Panicked cries answer his sudden appearance. Blaster fire greets him.

Tech and Wrecker recognise Hunter’s grunt of pain like it is their own. They take a single moment to share a nod, and then they too join the fray.

Wrecker charges in, shoulder down, crashing into a mercenary and knocking him away from Hunter. Tech skirts the edge of the hanger, diving into a roll to evade a stray blaster bolt. He comes up with his pistol ready, gaze flitting over the knot of combatants before choosing his target. He knows this is the quickest way to end this.

Omega’s voice comes over the com but doesn’t answer. He needs all his considerable wits about him if he wants to take down his younger brother.

He steadies his aim.

He fires at Hunter.

Somewhere beyond the roaring in his ears Hunter is dimly aware that he is injured. There is a lingering trace of heat as the laser-burn crawls against his skin, softened from deadly to merely painful by the layer of his armour. It slows him, but he doesn’t let it stop him.

He ducks a wild haymaker meant to knock him to the ground and comes up inside the man’s guard. The mercenary yells as Hunter’s forehead connects with his nose, blood gouting from the broken cartilage, and Hunter winces at the shout pierces his already tender headache.

The migraine is stabbing behind his eyes now, his vision winking in and out in bright flashes. He has to finish this fight soon, or he won’t be able to.

The sudden jolt of a stun blast catches him in the back. He feels the sensation ripple forwards across his chest, electric, followed by numbness. The blast threatens to short out his enhanced senses.

With difficulty he fights the blackness that follows the stun bolt, dragging his awareness back to the fight. Two others still standing. To his surprise, he realises Wrecker is one of them.

Then Hunter feels an attacker leap onto his back. He howls in panic and anger; instinct directs him to dip his body, rolling the assailant over his shoulder. He grabs them and slams them into the floor, a blow designed to stun.

Recognises the helmet. The goggles.

“Tech?” he slurs in confusion.

And, “TECH!” The shout is echoed by Wrecker, scooping up their fallen brother.

The final mercenary takes advantage of the distraction. Two blaster bolts hit into Wrecker’s back, staggering him, and he clutches Tech to his chest protectively. Hunter watches as the bounty hunter retreats, fleeing for the bikes they came in on.

His prey's footsteps are still reverberating at the edge of Hunter’s enhanced hearing when others approach from behind him. He whirls, sees Echo and Omega.

“What happened?” demands Echo, crossing to Hunter. With one hand he pushes Omega behind him, making sure she doesn’t step round and see the Sergeant. Doesn’t see the feral gleam in his eyes, the sharp and dangerous expression of his open-mouthed panting.

“I’ll find him.” Hunter’s voice is a subhuman growl. “I’ll end it.”

Omega paces anxiously, glancing towards the farthest exit to the hanger. Tech is conscious but dazed, propped up against a storage crate as Echo checks his pupils. She worries for Hunter, but she has been told to stay put.

Wrecker finishes restraining the still-living mercenaries and rolls his shoulders, easing out the stiffness of the injuries he sustained. His own blaster is loose in his hands, still set to stun.

The bodies have been hidden to one side, smeared trails of red marking the route they had been pulled. So much for out of sight, out of mind. Omega curls up over her injured hands, rubbing at her wrists through the bandages. The rope burns itch under the healing bacta gel.

“Tech will be fine,” reports Echo, “but one of us should stay with him. Omega?”

“I’m going after Hunter,” she announces, before she can be asked to play medic. She turns and looks at Echo with her mouth set in an unhappy line.

Echo calmly meets her gaze. “Hunter won’t want you to see him like this,” he says softly.

“Hunter needs me.” She is the embodiment of stubbornness. “I know it.”

Wrecker’s big hand touches her shoulder gently.

“I’ll keep her safe, Echo,” he says, voice strained with an ache of worry. He pushes his helmet back down onto his head, the snarling skull hiding the concern in his eyes.

“Let’s go, kid.”

Hunter is exhausted, muscles trembling as he forces them to continue. He has to do this. The image of Omega’s injuries is burned behind his retinas, the scent of her fear cloying. He failed to protect her once. He won’t do so again.

One more mercenary, and the job was done. There would be no-one left to threaten her. And if this group didn’t return, perhaps whoever was hunting them would think twice before sending more agents to kidnap her.

Protect Omega. Blood pounds in his head. Every footstep is a hammer-fall on the anvil of his overwrought senses.

Protect Omega.

A blaster shot hits his right hand. The vibroknife is flung free of his grasp, spinning into the air and embedding in the wall above his head. Hunter startles, the pain in his hand almost enough to stop him from evading the follow-up shot aimed for his heart. He twists at the last moment, the blaster bolt grazing his chest-plate.

Then his feral instincts are back, taking over, shutting down the thoughts that are distracting him and driving him forwards into the fight.

Hunter lunges, closing the distance to his would-be ambusher in a burst of speed that belies his injured state. He doesn’t remember that he has a pistol. Instead he barrels into the man, tackling him to the floor. The two of them roll, fighting for dominance, and Hunter comes out on top. Slugs the man. Pain explodes in his knuckles but he doesn’t stop. Again. And again.

Under the onslaught the mercenary’s face is transforming to a swollen, bloody pulp. He writhes and bucks under Hunter, throwing the sergeant off and scrambling for escape. Hunter leaps after him and they are back to brawling, only it isn’t a brawl. The man is sobbing, arms over his head, trying to shield himself from Hunter’s incoming blows. Pleas dribble with bubbled blood from broken lips. The man weeps for mercy.

Hunter’s onslaught continues. One more mercenary, and the job is done.

Protect Omega. Protect her at all costs.

Omega and Wrecker round the corner and Wrecker pulls them up short. Hunter is locked in combat with the final mercenary, the sickening sound of fist hitting flesh and the crepitus of broken bone reaching them across the otherwise empty room.

Omega recoils, watching the scene with fascinated horror. The brutality makes her sick to her stomach, but she can’t look away.

Hunter’s hair is loose, missing the bandana that usually tames it, and hangs lank and sweaty about his face. Blood streaks his fists and spatters his armour. The air is punctuated by his soft grunts and laboured breath, and the moans and whimpers emanating from the figure that is huddled beneath his fury.

Wrecker lays his hand on Omega’s shoulder, trying to coax her away. “Omega,” he says, and his voice quavers. He crouches in front of her, interposing himself between her and the brutal scene, and pushes his helmet back on his head to lock gazes with her.

“What is he doing?” Omega whispers in horror, brown eyes wide as she searches Wrecker’s face for answers.

Wrecker merely shakes his head. “You should get outta here, kid. Head back to the Marauder, wait for the others.”

He stands and turns away from her, dropping the blaster and moving towards Hunter with his hands held up defensively. It is like he is approaching a wild animal, wary of attack.

“Hunter, stop it. Please, vod. He’s down, he surrendered. This isn’t right.”

If Hunter hears him he gives no sign. His punches keep flying, sluggish but solid. His victim lets out a single broken sob.

Omega’s com chirps.

“Omega, are you alright?” It is Tech, his voice weak-sounding as he recovers from concussion.

“We found Hunter,” she whispers, riveted on Wrecker’s careful advance.

Wrecker nears Hunter and his victim, one hand extended. “It’s me, Hunt,” he says, softening the brash edge of his voice. “Time to stop. Okay, vod?”

Hunter doesn’t hear him. Or ignores him. It is hard to tell.

“Is Wrecker able to handle the situation?” asks Tech.

Omega shakes her head. “No,” she says, voice trembling with determination. “But if Wrecker can’t make Hunter stop, I will.”

“Be careful, Omega,” Tech warns her, and she steels herself for what is to come.

She steps past Wrecker, ducks to evade his grasp as he tries to stop her. On shaky legs she closes the distance. Hunter, her Hunter, is a creature she does not recognise. Ruthless, bloodstained, no glimpse of gentleness or mercy.

Hunter leans back, winding up for a huge hit. Omega darts in front of him, catching hold of his fist, levelling her intense brown-eyed stare into the wildfire of his fury.

Omega positions herself directly in front of the exhausted sergeant. Hunter is on his knees, tattooed face glazed in sweat and blood that almost certainly does not belong to him. His shoulders heave as he gulps in great lungfuls of air.

“Don’t,” she says. A plea. A command. “Please don’t.”

For a moment Hunter’s eyes turn glassy and unfocused, pupils trembling with rapid dilations before he eventually blinks and manages to fix his gaze on the girl before him.

“Omega?” he croaks weakly, and staggers to his feet. He sways a little, then replants his feet and braces a hand against her shoulder to steady himself. “You’re meant to be with Tech.”

Unexpectedly, he retches. Omega takes a startled step back as Hunter heaves bile, his whole body trembling. When he is done he wipes his mouth slickly on the back of his hand, glancing round in confusion.

Wrecker steps forwards, caution still written in his posture. “Hey, Hunter,” he says softly, a greeting to his brother as he returns to his senses.

Hunter sags against Omega, his arms going round her in relief, and she can feel the uncontrolled quaking of his body as adrenaline fatigue truly sets in.

Quickly Wrecker steps in to support him, taking some of his weight from Omega. But Omega wraps her arms tightly round Hunter’s waist, pressing her face against his chest, ignoring the scent of blood and blaster-fire as she feels his trembling hand run through her hair.

“I forgive you, Hunter,” she whispers, fingers digging into the cracks of his armour as they both cling to each other with equal ferocity. “I forgive you.”

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loudclan-clangen · 2 months

Text

Hey there!

Checking out Loudclan? That's great! Thanks so much!

Loudclan was originally planned to be drawn as I played the game like most other clangen blogs... Then I got frustrated about how slow it was moving and played ahead. Just a little bit, nothing to worry about, only about 1000 moons. So this blog should be running for A WHILE. I also take pretty big liberties with the designs and events. I think it's more interesting that way! Also it's been several real life months since I started playing and some things I just... forgot. Or lost. Either way, it's fun to stretch my creative skills.

As for the mechanics of the blog:

General Content Warnings Include:

Death, Animal Death, (Cat Death specifically), Death in Childbirth, Violence, Murder, Illness, Gore, Bad Parenting, Cheating, Affairs, Drama, Cursing, Language, Dirty Jokes, ECT. (if i missed something please let me know)

Updates are not going to be on a consistent schedule... ever. I'm a college student. I just don't have the time or energy.

The style is going to vary wildly. It's been years since I've consistently drawn cats and I wasn't ever really happy with the way I did it back then anyway. Come along for the ride with me! I'm just as surprised by what my hands create as you guys!

Overview:

Loudclan is set in a fictional location that is based on South Central Alaska. A group of rogues fled up the mountains to get away from the deep snows of the valleys at the beginning of a particularly harsh winter. The clan follows three "Leaders" in the form of the Leader, the Lead Healer, and the Lead Mediator. These leaders will each pass their position on to their oldest heir, the closest related member of their direct family. Issues regarding what happens when two cats have similar claims have yet to be sorted out by the clan, and may never be fully decided... *insert mysterious foreshadowing sounds*

If you are interested in more of a deep dive into the lore check out this post: Lore.

Want to see a list of all of the Loudclan cats? Go here: Allegiances.

Asks are welcome! I will do my best to answer them quickly and efficiently! I am happy to talk about characters, art, process, gameplay, pretty much anything. (I probably won't be showing sprites though, just because I've played ahead so far and a not insignificant amount of them are just... gone. Lost to the ether. Sacrificed so that my laptop could keep running the game.)

Also fanart/writing/edits are more than welcome! You guys are so cool and talented and I am honored that you would want to make something based on my dumb little pixel cats. Referencing or imitating my style/designs/layout is absolutely allowed, just make sure to mention me so I don't miss them!

I will never complain about anyone "blowing up my notifications" or spam liking. I think it's so neat to see people go through the blog liking as they go. Don't worry about it. I enjoy seeing you enjoy my work!

A little bit about me, you can call me "D"! I use any pronouns, I'm pretty ambivalent about them but the majority of people use she/her for me and I'm fine with that. I'm 20, I live most of the time in Alaska and part time on a ranch in Texas and I'm working on my BA in Elementary Education. I started reading Warriors in 2nd Grade and stopped in 6th Grade but the brain worms never die. If you know me in real life no you don't: It took me all of high school to kill the furry allegations I'm not going through that again. Oh, and my main blog is @restinginpiecesofpizza but warning, there's spoilers for Owlstar's family tree for like 8 generations posted on there.

Anyway, thanks for checking out my blog! I hope you enjoy!

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rin-fukuroi · 2 months

Note

Hey~ I don’t know if you would agree to write a work with this character, but I feel real despair that there are practically no decent works with this character. Gepard leads in sex. Please… Maybe incest with a yandere or deflowering? I'm so tired of reading Gepard passively and no one understands me.

Hi! (o˘◡˘o)

I think I can help you with that. How about everything at once? I hope this heals your wounds, because I'm also outraged by the fact that many writers describe Gepard as a shy and passive guy as possible, when he is completely different. No, of course he's charming and sweet, but damn, he's the CAPTAIN. He's a man with a core, stubborn and principled, a man who has managed to earn trust, which means he is firm in his beliefs and a sense of justice is not alien to him at all. Of course, he can be gentle with his beloved, but come on, who didn't imagine how his hand in this metal glove squeezes someone's (for example, ours) throat? I imagined it! I don't care about the rest. I'm very glad that I'm not the only one who loves dominant strong men, so I was happy to write this work for you. I hope you like it~

𝐀 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞 [𝐆𝐞𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐝]

Please do not translate or publish my works without my permission.

If you want to support me and read my other works that won't be on Tumblr, you can always do it on my Boosty~

Fandom: Honkai: Star Rail

Pairings: dom!older brother!Gepard x sub!fem!reader

Warnings: NSFW, incest, yandere, stalking, flogging, light choking, petting, loss of virginity, rape (?), rough public sex, creampie, references to pregnancy.

▶• ılıılıılıılıılıılı. Poylow, BAUWZ, Nito-Onna - Hate You

Note: English is not my native language, so I apologize if there are errors in the text qq

art by @tksm_66

You love your family, really. Your sisters have always been so kind to you that you could even call them your friends, despite the age difference, but at some points they still made you remember that they are your relatives. Serval can be overly caring, but a Lynx, on the contrary, is freedom-loving, so sometimes you have to return to the role of an older sister, looking after her. And yet you love them. Even Gepard.

Why «even»? It's hard to say exactly where your strange relationship originates from, because you didn't immediately realize that there was something unnatural in them. Does older brother take care of you? Well, all relatives take care of each other, don't they? Does he like to spend all his free time with you? You're probably close enough, and that's great. Does your older brother kiss you, hug you, and take a bath with you? Oh, it's very sweet that he cared and loved his little sister so much as a child.

But your childhood ended a long time ago, and your relationship has not changed at all.

Gepard trying to be unobtrusive, but it turns out to be very lousy. You know that he secretly looks into your phone, studying each of your correspondence, but you don't say anything, because your brother just doesn't want you to get involved with bad people, right? Gepard doesn't want you to live separately, despite the fact that you have been on your feet for a long time and can afford it, but you keep silent and agree, because he just wants you to be there because he wants to protect you. Gepard forbids you to go on dates and get to know other men, but you don't mind, even though you don't understand what he cares about it. Gepard suggests that you take a shower together when the two of you return home, because he always meets you after your shift, despite his own unstable schedule, and you… agree, because this is your brother, there's nothing wrong with that, right?

You're confused. Seeing the relationships in your friends' families, you gradually begin to pay attention to the fact that even between a brother and sister there should be a distance that you and Gepard don't have. Are they crazy or are you?

— Geppie's just worried about you, honey! Don't pay attention, one day he'll definitely calm down, you just have to show him that you have really grown up and no longer need his care.

Serval's words are firmly embedded in your brain, because during this recent conversation, you still didn't understand that, in fact, even the older sister confirmed that what you told her was not quite right. You didn't talk about sharing a bathroom, you didn't talk about how Gepard kisses you on the corner of your lips when he leaves for work in the morning, you didn't talk about how he violates your personal space. Probably, deep down, you really knew that it shouldn't be like this, so you didn't tell the truth.

You love your older brother, you really do. That's why you decided to talk to him first. For some reason, it was so disturbing and exciting to start a conversation, but you are a family, and he'll understand you if you are only sincere, right? It should have been like this.

— You're still young and don't understand that living away from your family will only harm you. I take care of you, I give you everything you want, why do you want to run away so much?

«Because your concern is suffocating me. Because you only give me what you want. You limit me, control me, and forbid me to live my life. It's wrong, it shouldn't be like this…», — you'ld like to say it out loud. These words were already on the tip of your tongue, ready to burst into the air, but they remained buried deep in your throat when you humbly swallowed every objection and dissatisfaction.

— I'm sorry, brother…

His big palm on top of your head and the cold metal from the plate on Gepard's uniform pressing against your face made you feel so… uncomfortable for the first time.

That's why you don't want to go home right now, and you got off early on purpose so you wouldn't have to meet Gepard. You'ld like to share his warm feelings, but you can no longer deceive yourself. It burden you.

You wander among the exhibits of an empty museum, preparing to close, but you don't stop at anything, too immersed in your own thoughts. Even almost all the employees have already gone home. Quietly, calmly. You were not mistaken when you decided to choose this particular place to cool your head a little. But even here, for some reason, it seems to you as if your brother's gaze is following you at every step. You don't remember the last time you went out without him, because Gepard seems to be doing everything on purpose so that you don't even cross paths with your friends on the way home, spending your evenings in his company.

Why are you just now starting to realize how sick you are of his company? It must be terrible to even let the thought that you want your brother to disappear, but… wouldn't it be easier for you to breathe without him?

— Oh, isn't that my old friend's little sister? — a sweet melodious male voice breaks into the silence that presses on you, and at first you don't even understand if this person is addressing you, just briefly turning back, casting an incredulous glance at the stranger. The tall blue-haired man grins, clapping his hands before coming closer as soon as the bright green eyes notice that you have stopped. — Well, that's right! Y/N, yeah?

— Do we know each other?.. — you're frowning, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to look and sound confident, but your posture is as scared and constrained as your thoughts continue to swarm in your head.

— Oh, didn't my dear friend tell you about Sampo? — the theatrical man pretends to be sad, then breaks into a sly grin again. — I suppose it's never too late to introduce ourselves to each other. Although I already know your name, and you just heard Sampo's name… hmm, does that mean that we know each other now?

— P-probably… — you mumble softly, backing away slightly as the tall man bends over, carefully studying your face.

— This is the first time I've seen you not in the company of my friend.

— And I actually see you for the first time, — you smile crookedly, causing Sampo to respond with a soft laugh.

— Don't be shy, my dear friend! — oh, you're wondering why Gepard didn't tell you about this man. — So how can Sampo serve you?

— Huh?

— Oh, what should Sampo do?… The museum is closing soon, and I'm spending time with my new friend for the first time…

— Do you… work here? — you raise an eyebrow in disbelief, to which the man perks up, proudly resting his palm on his side.

— That's right, that's right! Sampo Koski is at your service! — it's unlikely that you'll find a common language with this person.

— May I ask how it happened? I'm sorry, but you don't really look like…

— Ah, it's a long story! — Sampo interrupts, grinning nervously and looking away. — You mean I don't look like a law-abiding citizen? How many times has Sampo heard this, and every time these words break my heart…

— N-no, I didn't mean to offend you, — you stretch out your hand to the man who dramatically clasped his forehead with his palm, but almost immediately pull it back.

— You're so sweet, unlike your brother. Although his indifference and callousness, of course, has its own special charm, — the man's facial expressions change like masks, and now he is smiling again, closing his eyes and leaning closer to your face. — So, I could leave the museum open for a while longer, and we could chat a little longer!

You wrap your arms around your own shoulders, warily meeting Sampo's gaze when he opens his eyes, and you are already opening your mouth to gently refuse the man, when suddenly, with a dull clap, someone's big palm lands on the shoulder of your new "friend".

Sampo straightens up instantly, turning around anxiously. The man's face instantly contorts into an awkward expression when the green eyes meet the cold, sharp gaze of the Captain, who furrowed his eyebrows in anger. You feel your heart jumping in your chest, and your fingers go numb as you convulsively squeeze the hem of your skirt, watching your brother's fist tremble, about to hit Sampo.

— Calm down, calm down, my friend, I was about to leave!

— Why are you with him? — for the first time, you hear the burning anger in your brother's voice when he addresses you, making you cringe in place as soon as the sharp gaze of his blue eyes pins you to the floor.

— I… We were just talking… — tears come to your eyes, and a sharp lump squeezes your throat, muffling your voice, but as soon as you see that Gepard is looking at the nervously grinning Sampo again, your body moves by itself, and you rush forward, convulsively grabbing your brother by the elbow. — I swear, he just came over to say that the museum will close soon! Nothing more!

— Ha ha ha… That's how it was, Sampo didn't want to inconvenience his new friend.…

— Friend? — the blue irises seem to be covered with an icy crust when Gepard squeezes Sampo's shoulder harder, ignoring your pathetic attempts to pull his hand away from the poor man, who now seems to get what he deserves.

— W-we're not friends, this is the first time I've seen him, Gepard, please! — tears slowly begin to roll down your cheeks, and your fingers press harder into the metal on your brother's glove, before he still seems to listen to your pleas, and lets go of Sampo, but still does not take his eyes off him.

— You'd better get as far away as possible, because as soon as I talk to my sister, you'll be next.

Sampo decides not to answer anything, so as not to inflame the atmosphere even more, and just nods briefly, walking behind your brother and turning to you one last time, folding his palms in front of his face and arching his eyebrows in a guilty apologetic expression before hurriedly leaving.

Silence. While you were here alone, this silence was alarming, but now it terrifies you to the point of chilling shivers running down your spine. You've never been afraid of your own brother like you are now. You didn't do anything wrong, you were even honest with him, but… for some reason, the feeling that you made an unforgivable mistake doesn't leave you, becoming more and more distinct as Gepard continues to remain silent, not even meeting your gaze, but just looking somewhere in the aside while you guiltily examine his angry face.

— Brother, I…

— I asked you, — Gepard interrupts, addressing you in a stern tone and finally turning his head, turning his icy gaze on you. — Do you need this? Is this the kind of life you want? So that this trash can just come up and talk to you? Although, I can see that you didn't even mind at all.

— No, it's not like that! I just came here to get some air, and he…

— To get some air? You didn't wait for me, — a big hand in a white glove painfully grabs your wrist, and tears come to your eyes with renewed vigor, blurring the image of your brother looming over you with complete disappointment in his gaze. — Why, Y/N?

— Because I'm tired! — you're choking out, stuttering and sniffing. — I'm not a child anymore, and you are… I can't take a step without you, you're watching me, acting like… — you stop, not daring to say what you were going to say, and Gepard bends even lower to your tear-stained face, staring intently into your reddened eyes.

— Like what? Finish it, Y/N.

— Like… — you inhale the air intermittently, then exhale it back just as jerkily before continuing, hastily trying to blink tears from your eyelashes so that you can see your brother's face as clearly as possible. — Like you're my boyfriend.

The man's lips tighten and the grip on your wrist loosens slightly as the blue eyes continue to stare at you without blinking. You really said that. You were afraid to even admit this thought, but these words slipped out of your mouth by themselves, finally voicing what had been bothering you all these years. Gepard has crossed some line that you didn't even know existed until you felt that his presence was making you suffocate. This has to stop. Now.

— I don't understand, is this a bad thing?

— Wh-what?..

— No one knows you better than I do, and they never will. I won't let that happen, — Gepard's eyebrows furrow, and his free hand settles on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. — Why do you want other men so much? What can they give you that I can't?

It's like a bad… bad, bad dream. The ringing in your ears drowns out Gepard's words, and your brother's arm falls limply from his elbow until he presses you against the wall with the painting. The grip on your wrist strengthens again when Gepard forcefully lifts and presses your hand against the cold concrete, pulling you out of your stupor and returning you back to the disgusting reality from which you are trying to fight off with your free palm, but it also suffers the same sad fate.

— Let me go! I don't understand what you're talking about.… We are a family! — you squirm weakly in Gepard's grip as he shackles your wrists above your head, freeing one hand to grab your throat with it. Not too much, but enough to obstruct your breathing.

— Exactly, Y/N, we are a family, — there seemed to be no trace of the sweet caring Gepard. A completely different person is looking at you now. Obsessed, violent, completely inaudible and not listening to what you're trying to tell him. — But you stopped appreciating what I do for you, you don't appreciate how much I value you.

— I appreciate it! But you're my brother, damn… Let me go, Gepard, please… — you start crying again, writhing in your brother's grip, still hoping that he just had a bad day, and if he sees your tears now, he will be the same again… And your pathetic hopes are justified when you feel like a gloved hand releases your neck, allowing you to take a full deep breath.

— I've been so stupid all this time when I thought you understood me. I thought you were old enough to make the right choice, but no, you are still the same child in the body of an adult who has never been punished for misconduct, so now you can afford to be naughty.

— Gepard?.. — you call out to your brother almost in a whisper, anxiously trying to look into his eyes, but his gaze is fixed somewhere down while he hurriedly pulls the belt out of his trousers.

— If you haven't managed to grow up, then, as an older brother, I'm obliged to raise you, — after these words, you don't even have time to open your lips to answer anything, at least something to Gepard, before you are forcibly turned around and pressed face to the wall, and your hands are painfully wrung behind your back tearing a plaintive cry out of his strangled throat.

— Gepard! Brother, I beg you… that's enough, let's go home! Forgive me!

He's not listening. You can't see his face, but you can feel the weight of his gaze on your own body as he lifts up your skirt and casually pulls your underwear down your legs.

— Forgive you? I'm not mad at you, Y/N, — even his voice is cold, sending uncontrollable shivers through my skin. Gepard is silent for a moment, but the back of your head is squeezed by some unpleasant premonition, before your ass is struck by an unbearably burning pain from the whiplash of the belt. The air is knocked out of your clenched lungs, and your nails reflexively dug into your own palms when the walls of the museum heard your heart-rending scream.

— G-Gepard! Please!.. — you scream when you feel some movement behind your back, realizing that your brother swung again, after which another portion of pain stung your flesh.

— I'm just disappointed...

The man mumbles indifferently, ignoring your attempts to escape and hoarse screams, interrupted by coughing when you start choking on your own tears and saliva. And then Gepard strikes again.

— And I have to correct my own mistake.

Blue eyes coldly watch as your flesh turns red, and the stripes from the belt swell on your skin, but Gepard strikes again, and then again, without losing sight of a single shudder of your poor body. You've always been a defenseless little sister to him, whom Gepard so desperately wanted to protect. For himself.

How can you get to someone else? He raised you, he gave you a love that no one in this world is capable of giving you, he was there for you, sharing joys and sorrows with you. You have to choose him. He doesn't accept any other outcome.

The last blow turned out to be more painful than all the previous ones, as if all the disappointment and anger that you awakened in Gepard were now imprinted on your body with pulsating bruises and burning pain, pulling more and more tears from your squeezed eyes.

— I didn't want to hurt you, Y/N … — Gepard says with a barely perceptible note of sadness in his voice, bowing his head and pressing his forehead to the top of your head. — But otherwise you'll slip away from me… I can't let that happen.

You just sniffle and sob softly, pressing your face against the wall, feeling the blood rise to the places where Gepard's fingers continue to press into the skin of your wrists with force. Has he always been like this? Your brother couldn't have changed in a few miserable minutes. You just didn't notice, did you? You didn't notice how obsessed he was with you.

— I should have punished you, but… let me make it up to you and show you that I can be more than just a brother to you.

You barely catch your brother's words because of the ringing that continues to crash into your ears, but for some reason his gentle, guilty tone involuntarily tightened your stomach and nausea rose in your throat, as if now you missed the words that you should have heard, but you don't want to listen so much. You hear the metal belt buckle hitting the floor of the museum, catch the muffled rustle of clothes, feel Gepard's warm palm making its way down your stomach and settling between your legs, and reflexively squeeze your hips, opening your eyes in fright.

— N-no, what are you…?

— Relax, Y/N. I know you, I know what you like… — the rough pads of your fingers press on the dry clitoris, sending an unpleasant wave of pleasure through your body. — If you think there's something I can't help you with, then that's not the case. If you need a lover, I'll be him for you, — Gepard's lips press against your hair, and his fingers gently massage the treacherously trembling lump, slowly sliding down between the folds until your brother feels the sparsely released moisture, exhaling contentedly and returning back to the clitoris. — See? Your body reacts to me, doesn't that prove that I'm not just a brother to you?

— Stop it, please… I can't… — you break into sobs, clenching your teeth and closing your eyes in resignation, feeling something hot and hard pushing insistently between your closed thighs. — Please, at least not here…

— Are you afraid that someone will hear us? I sent Eris home, we're alone. Unless your new friend decided to stay and watch.

— I… I'm a virgin, brother, please… — even a whisper sounds so hoarse, coming off your tongue after screams tearing at your throat, but you still find the strength to speak, without losing hope that this will stop Gepard.

— I know. The fact that I'm going to be your first man should finally make you look at me differently, shouldn't it?

— I… don't know… Ng-h! — you cry out in pain as Gepards's hips press against your bruised bottom and his cock penetrates between your thighs before sliding back out, now resting against your narrow entrance.

— It's okay, just trust me, — Gepard says soothingly, gently but persistently pressing on your closed thighs with his knee, effortlessly forcing them apart.

Resilient hot flesh slowly enters the vagina, stretching the virgin walls, and your body is hit by a new, unknown pain. It's too big. You feel your walls bursting at the seams around his cock, indifferently continuing to make its way deep into the vagina, accompanied by your stifled sobs and exhausted screams. The incessant movements of your brother's fingers massaging the clitoris slightly dampen the painful sensations of the first penetration, but this is still not enough.

Gepard's hot breath burns your scalp when it finally enters you completely, stopping for a few seconds, giving you time to get used to it. As if a few measly moments would be enough to get used to the idea of your own brother's cock inside you, whose hands never loosened their grip, holding your wrists firmly against your back.

— Just be patient for a while. I promise this pain will go away, don't you believe me?

You're not answering. Impotence is so disgusting that you feel like you're about to throw up, and maybe Gepard would even stop if it turned you inside out, but it doesn't happen. Your head is so heavy, and even behind your closed eyelids you can feel everything spinning uncontrollably. You are afraid to open your eyes, afraid to believe that what is happening now is real.

But no matter how hard you try to deny it, everything is happening for real. Gepard really carefully kisses the top of your head, really pulls out his cock from your insides, leaving only the head bleeding from the ejaculate in the vagina, then slowly filling you again, and his fingers really massage your clitoris, causing treacherous arousal, from which you are overcome with even greater nausea.

Why are you pleased? Because he's your brother? No, that's not right. You should hate him, should hate yourself for your body not obeying, enjoying the even still slightly painful languid thrusts.

But you… enjoy it.

Every time when Gepard comes out of you, tiny drops of blood seep out, mixed with the transparent juices of treacherous arousal, trickling down your thighs. You hear your brother's voice murmuring reassuringly into your hair, but you can't make out a word, catching only the nasty ringing that has settled in the depths of your ears.

You're so narrow inside, so warm and pleasant, just like Gepard imagined. He's a little embarrassed to admit even to himself that he did sometimes imagine your first sex when he took a shower with you. Your body has changed so much, you have become such a beauty, isn't it natural that he was aroused by your naked body?

And now it belongs to him.

Your brother feels so good that he inevitably becomes greedy, speeding up the pace, just assuming that now you won't be hurt anymore. This bliss that he is experiencing now is so alluring and seductive, he just can't help himself. Of course, Gepard would like this to happen in a more intimate setting, under more pleasant circumstances, but the anger that you made him feel while talking to Sampo has been reborn into this perverted desire that he cannot control.

Just once… Just once, won't you let your brother show weakness?

— No one… I won't let anyone talk to you, see you, touch you anymore… — thoughts break out of Gepard's tongue by themselves, and he doesn't even notice how his thrusts have become rougher, and his groin began to slash into your mutilated ass.

You're so hot, it's so hard to breathe, but what scares you even more is the strangely growing feeling in your lower abdomen. You don't know what it is, but for some reason you are sure that you should not give in to it, you should resist. However, it still wins up over and over again, spreading in scalding waves under the skin.

Your pulse vibrates so clearly under the pads of Gepard's fingers, and something comes out of your strangled throat that sounds more and more like the moans he dreamed of. It's too much, you're too good, too perfect. He can cum inside you, won't you mind? If suddenly you can get pregnant from him… How wonderful your children will be, can you imagine?

A few more careless thrusts, a few rough presses on your clitoris, and your brother feels you clench even tighter around his cock, and your back arches even under the pressure of his hand.

— That's it… Feel it, Y/N... Remember that only I can give you such pleasure… — a restrained moan, more like a growl, escapes from the man's throat, and the last ruthless thrust makes your chest painfully crash into the wall.

Your insides feel numb, but you still feel something viscous filling you when your brother's cock freezes and now pulsates so clearly in the spasming walls.

— You're mine… Do you hear it, Y/N? You belong only to me… — Gepard whispers to you as the last drops of sperm flow out of the urethra of his cock. — I'll never leave you. I'll never betray you. Just don't… don't try to replace me anymore.

You open your eyelids slightly, watching the tears fall from your trembling eyelashes and hit the floor under your feet.

If this isn't a nightmare that looks so disgustingly like reality, then what is?..

#headcanons #hsr #hsr x reader #honkai:star rail #honkai:star rail x reader #hsr drabbles #gepard #gepard x you #gepard x reader #gepard smut #hsr smut

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camellia-salazar · 17 days

Text

April's drawings and doodles!! Get ready! 🎉🌟

At first, I was gonna draw ARG tangled in some rope, but then the rope looked like a ribbon, so I made Gangle into a monster instead. Also, I drew two of the most underated cats from Warriors ever, especially Lionheart.

(I started this first but finished it second). Drawings of certain characters cause their birthdays this month, except for Colin his birthday is at the end of March. I just forgot to draw him. I just love how Cody, Popee, and Waluigi share the same birthday, tho. 🎉

Edit: (No offense to those born on April 1st, btw).

I was writing a story with these six, inspired by The New Prophecy. But I haven't written it in some time. Idk if I'll ever continue it. I don't think I'll post it anywhere, either. Probably.

The next two drawings I started a month or so ago but didn't finish until this month.

Took quite a while to finish, but I'm glad I did. Idk where this takes place yet, but it is a scene from that crossover I keep thinking about but never really writing down.

Either takes place before or after the drawing above it, I don't really remember. What I do know, tho is that I drew these drawings because idk I just felt like Adam would have interesting interactions with some other characters.

I rushed this at the end. I did not want to leave it out. I want a clean slate next month. God damn it. I love crossovers, how bout you?

More about the Multifandom lore and other stuff below if you want:

Characters who die in canon that end up in the place (idk what to call it) keep being in the clothing that they died in. (Rip Ram and Kurt from Heathers: the Musical). (Spoilers warning if needed) So Adam is stuck with his robe he wore during the war with Charlie and the others from the hotel.

Also, about the 3rd drawing, like I said, it's an idea I had that, yes, takes place in the same crossover thing I think about. The colors in the background of each kiddo are involved in it, too.

The first two drawings are pretty much just some random doodles (idk what to do with the one with ARG and monster Gangle) while the other three kinda have stories to them that may or may not be written or animated on someday. (God, I hope that last sentence made sense).

Oh, and Bluey, Bingo and their cousins got to visit the Cul-De-Sac cause of a reason that's also in the multifandom/crossover I think about, I don't know if I should explain it or not. Meh.

BTW I've tried to match the original art styles of everything before, but this time, I've taken some steps forward. The hardest thing to figure out is the claynimated ones like Orel, Clay, and Claire. But I managed (for now, probably).

Edit: i went back and fixed it, I feel so much better about it now.

I even tried to have it seem like Bluey and others are slowly transitioning to the EEnE art style a bit.

But anyways, thanks for looking at my art and reading my rant! (If you did, if not, don't worry)

Have a good one! 🌟✨️✨️👋

(i keep forgetting to include my logo in my fanarts, but whatever, maybe next time, maybe next year ill start. Idk.)

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factual-fantasy · 3 months

Text

24 ASKS!! AAA THANK YALL SO MUCH THIS ONE WAS VERY FUN :}} ✨💖✨

Ah no worries about not understanding! I would prefer no fanart was drawn of my cookie ocs.. thank you for asking to double check though! :}}

(Post this ask is referencing)

I explain it all in this post! :00

:DD Thank you so much!! And yeah, I just didn't have the heart to keep Papyrus suffering 😭😭 as much as it really seems like I don't-- I do love Papyrus as a character. And I felt like he really deserved some kind of salvation after everything I put him through.. Also it'll make for some interesting dynamics in the group! Looking at Seam and Jevil.. 👀👀

Oh yeah, and poor Coconut. If I hadn't drawn angst of Octo already she wouldn't have been the subject this time! <XDD And thank you!! :DD I'm glad to hear that she's your favorite!! :}}

And yes! I always saw the other koopa kids- especially Ludwig- to be older than JR. Maybe its the bib-- and who knows! I tend to loop back around to old fandoms from time to time so I can see myself drawing the koopa kids again XDD

As for the Mario Movie,, shockingly enough I still haven't seen it. What can I say? I have some kind of problem upstairs I'm sure of it--

Though its interesting to hear that the movie blue shells are similar to mine! :0 And I'm honored to hear that you like my version more than the movies! :DD 💖💖

XD Its been a while since I've seen those movies. So I cant really remember much of Jack Sparrow.. but I trust that you are right! XD

@foxythefox11

XD If I do that Jangles will probably super bounce her into the sun-

And thank you! And hey, I'm sorry that you're not very confident in your artwork right now.. Just keep in mind, all it took for me was time. Your art will improve with time. Try your best to cut yourself some slack. Understand that you're still learning. We all are! Remember that your art will continue to improve if you just keep drawing!

I don't play it or know anything about it either <XDD but I'm glad you like them!! :}} ✨💖✨

(Post in question)

AWW! THAT SOUNDS ADORABLE!! 😭😭🥺💖

@solst1ce-sketches

@komikudikentalendo

Its actually the 3rd option. Usually when I'm in some kind of fandom I prefer my own AUs as opposed to others AUs or even canon. :00

That's probably becuase most of my AUs consist of removing things from canon I don't like and adding in random things that I do like-

@abaroo (Post in question)

AWWW THAT WOULD'A WORKED TOO THOUGH :(

I guess I was thinking that Frisk fully trusted Papyrus instantly. And so did not hesitate to give her cape to him 🥺💖

@natewithacake

ASKSAKSFDJ THANK YOU!! :DD MEGA HIGH FIVE VIBES FRFR!!

@skulls-and-cypresses (Post in question)

WHW- WAHG??? THAK YOU?? THANK YOU SO MUCH!! THAT'S SO KIND!! PROBABLY THE KINDEST THING ANYONE HAS EVER SAID ABOUT THE WAY I DRAW PAPYRUS!! ME?? REPRESENT HIM PERFECTLY??? WAAAA THANK OU!!! 😭😭💖😭💖💖

THANK YOU!! THANK THANK THANK YOU!! FOR EVERYTHING!! 😭😭💖💙😭😭😭

@dementia27

Aww! How cute! That might work! :000 Why do I want one now- XDD

@khoiazo

Aw, I'm sorry! <XDD I don't mean to make you sad :(((

AND YOOO!!! Its Friday when I'm answering this but the Wednesday dude is welcome any day of the week! :DD

Yeah, both canon Jevil and Spamton would be pretty dangerous to have around XDD But out of the two I think original Spamton would be interesting.. 👀

Not really for the personality, because my Spamton's personality is actually a bit similar.. but more for the visual aspect. I headcannon that canon Spamton's body shrunk when he fell into an acid pool. My Spamton fell into an acid pool as well, but it didn't shrink him. It destroyed the structure of his body and elongated him. Making him much taller and extremely deformed..

Imagine the two of them standing side by side. Original Spam would be up to my Spams knee! <XD

@minnesotamedic186

Evil voice: ehhehghehe... noted... hehehghehee

@pythecyberguy

Me when someone compliments me on the characters design that I was least confident about:

(fr tho THANK YOU!! THAT MEANS A LOT TO MEEEE😭😭💖💖😭💖 )

@nunyabusiness459 (Post in question)

Whoopsies! <XDD (jk jk light hearted--)

SHE WOULD THO XDD

I wouldn't say near-death.. Spade King didn't want to kill Jevil. So any injuries he inflicted upon him were injuries he could recover from..

@beryl-shade

Yeah :( their value to him was that of a grain of sand..

@neo-metalscottic

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH!! I'M SO GLAD YOU LIKE THEM!! :DDD

As for what kind of monsters they'd face,, I'm actually unsure- I haven't played either game and I don't know any of the lore or characters.. so I'm not sure what kinds of dangers the real cookie run pirates face.. :( But what I DO know is that Blue Beauty is their main form of protection.

She's not exactly threatening to a lot of creatures I'd imagine.. She is just a Mer-whale. No teeth or stingers to make her more intimidating.. But what she is, is huge. And incredibly strong. She's a real power house and uses tools and weapons the crew taught her how to use to defend herself. And I imagine with her thick blubber, it takes a really deep wound to actually hurt her. So she doesn't fear getting a couple scratches here and there.

When it comes to the other cookies, most everyone stands up and fights. Only a select few retreat to the lower decks to protect their goods or hide. Those likely being Ellie, she's too old for this crap- and Coco and Red, though don't be fooled! Coco can fight! She's just retreating with Red in order to protect him. Everyone else though is up there duking it out with who ever dares cross their ship! ⚔⚔

@lildiaperboyjake

Ah! Sorry for the late reply, this ask got buried--

I'd like to think Funtime Freddy would have a really hard time deciding on a favorite song. California girls, call me maybe,, wannabe?? But after a loooot of careful thinking, he'd pick all star by smash mouth XD

Hello hi yes this ask was sent weeks ago but then it got lost and buried but then revived in a way that I cant explain but my intended response was--

Awwww.. imagine her in tears after drawing a picture of a little girl she remembers. She holds the drawing up to the night sky, trembling.

"S-She dreamed of seeing the stars one day.." 💔

#my response #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #cookie run ocs #my ocs #undertale #deltarune #seam and jevil #fnaf sister location #papyrus #river person

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maopll · 1 year

Note

May I request Trey, Rook, Azul and Jamil with a reader that's a goddess of all that flows (water, dance, music, etc)?

In your ethereal light

| twisted wonderland !

⌗:, you are the goddess revered by many. but when you have a special devotee all to yourself who never bats an eye to other deities? you feel so so special

⌗:, a/n: gotta be my favourite request. I have a hard time figuring out how to make my fics have that warm feeling. I really need to learn more words.

⌗:, characters: trey, rook, azul, jamil

⌗:, warning: none only fluff

,,you've always hid your original identity...you wanted to blend in with the realm where dieties like yourself don't exist. where everyone would visit you to spend time with you..not to worship you and ask for glory and prosperity and so one eventful meeting changes your life...

✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Trey found out about your identity in the most fairytale way possible. He knew something was different about you..the air around you maybe? he couldn't point. you were so sweet, so kind almost in a godlike way

He wanted to confront you about it but he was breathless when he found you, in all your glory in a lake near your dorm. You were on the surface of the water completely balancing yourself with who knows what magic. You were dancing freely without a care. the water was splashing around you.

he stood there. he knew it was rude to stare but he can't help it when you look so beautiful. you noticed his presence and softly called his name. at first he was going to apologise but his worries were soon forgotten when you asked him "did you like my dance?". he did. it would probably grow to become his favourite of all time but you might have to give him an answer as to how you were able to stand on top of water. you told him you were a goddess of all that flows. he was finally starting to piece everything together. you were quite scared to tell him about your original identity but no matter who you are he will always love you because he knows you love him equally as much.

˖ ݁ . ࿓ ˖ ݁ . ࿓

Rook had known something was different about you. You were so soft so gentle...just like a swift flowing stream of water. With you around he would call you with his usual petnames but sometimes he would just get his heart beating so fast with a lovestruck look in his eyes. As if he had just seen the fairest beauty.

He wasn't curious about your original identity. he just had a hunch you were more than the information about yourself you told him. so he just wanted to see what his little rabbit was doing in the middle if nights. Just how astonished he was, he was also quite enamored by your effortless swirls and taps of your feet against the water. As you were done dancing he emerged from the darkness while clapping. He asked you to continue as he loved the way how your dance was so regal. even beasts and birds came from somewhere to watch their goddess in all her beauty.

If he had to choose between loving hunting or loving your dance. He would without hesitation watch you dance once more if it means seeing you dance freely.

˖ ݁ . ࿓˖ ݁ . ࿓

Azul from the start saw that you took great enthusiasm with the landscape of the Octaniville dormitory as it was under water and you would be pleased by all forms of dance. There was nothing wrong with liking performing arts but your enthusiasm was of a master who was well versed in the

Now he was really invested he desperately wanted to know what secrets were you hiding. He was thinking of finding a way on how to make you say it but when he went to your table in the lounge he found you twirling water around your fingers as if they were threads. Flowers bloomed around your head making a wreath. He always found you beautiful and one of a kind but...right now your beauty looked unparalleled.

He gently asked what is it that you were making as a very soft smile hung on his face. You were embarrassed but told him that you were a goddess who can control water and flowers and also a goddess of dances as well.

He was really glad that you were able to tell him your secret and he would promise to keep it safe. He took it really naturally as if he already knew...which he kinda did but hearing it directly from you knowing that you trust him a lot has him bursting with happiness.

˖ ݁ . ࿓˖ ݁ . ࿓

Jamil had enough faith in you not to judge you or question you. He loved you and if you ever had any secrets that you couldn't share with him at the moment, he would wait until you feel comfortable.

But even he can run out of patience. Although he knew it was rude of him to truly ask about whatever you were hiding from him, curiosity got the better of him. He asked you one night when you two were watching the stars from the open grounds. You never expected that he would have understood that you were hiding something but...a secret can't be hidden forever.

So instead of telling him you decided to show him what you are. He was enchanted. Your gently yet passionate dance with little swirls of water forming underneath you feet as you maneuver them carefully as if they were silk. You looked like the pole star under the starry impressions. So bright, so beautiful

You ended you perfect presentation of what you were by extending a little bouquet of flowers to him. Yeah he definitely knows that you are the one and only goddess of all that flows.

His heart did race a bit when he processed that he was the one true lover of a goddess. Then he must give you love equal to what a deity such as yourself must receive

I'm already in physical and mental pain I'm feeling from all the studies of grade 9. I'm dying

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medics-secret-shipfic-folder · 28 days

Note

I don’t know why I’m concerned about this and why I’m asking, but still. How about the idea of paying attention to other characters from TF2 or TFC in your fic? I noticed that in the fic there are more characters invented by you, who are not even related to TF2 or TFC. I dared to ask this despite the fact that I really like your fic because it’s very cool! If I’m wrong about something, then I want to smooth out this guilt with a little Cmedic

My little shitty art

When writing tbtf, one of the things I prioritize is story flow, themes, and character arcs. Because of how long the fic is, this means that the best approach to the story is focusing on our main four heroes - Heavy, Medic, Cheavy, and Cmedic. The story works best when it's just these four and their journey back to Teufort. There's a lot of time dedicated to conversations and internal monologues between these four because what they go through and what they learn is the most important part of the fic. It is so important to get into their heads and really understand how they think - any good story needs very strong characters as a foundation. These are my main four characters, and so they get top billing.

This is why I haven't really focused on any other tf2 or tfc characters: it would just get in the way and make everything cluttered. If I was constantly moving away from the main four to focus on what Scout and Pyro are doing, it would be jarring because Scout, Pyro, and the rest of the team don't really impact the story all that much. As for tfc, well...most of tfc is dead in this fic. Remember, this fic takes place three months after the events of The Naked and The Dead, the tfc mercs are gone. The only exceptions are Cmedic, Cheavy, and Fred. Yeah, Fred's alive in this fic, and I do plan on him showing up in a later chapter.

With all that said: there will be more tf2 and tfc appearances going forward. As the story progresses and the main four get closer to Tuefort, more of the RED team is gonna pop up as we learn what happened to them after chapter 1. We've already seen Engie, Soldier, and Heavy's family, and the next mercs we meet are gonna be Scout and Pyro in chapter 28. And like I said above, Fred is going to make an appearance in that big three-parter I have planned.

Don't worry, its not like tf2 and tfc characters are entirely neglected. Shit's gonna start ramping up in the second half of the fic. Its just that because of how the story is structured, its not really feasible to focus on them when there are main characters going through arcs.

As for the original characters: they exist to further facilitate the main story and themes, hence why they have more of a presence than the tf2 characters at time of writing.

I'm aware that it can be jarring to read a tf2 fic and have half the cast not even be from tf2, but bear with me, we're getting there! You have to remember that I've got a huge chunk of this story planned in advance, so I fully intend on bringing in more tf2 characters.

#team fortress 2 #tf2 #take back the fortress

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mar3ggiata · 3 days

Text

professional help, c9. Reign of Terror.

simon riley x original character.

trigger warnings: violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape, trauma, sexual themes, swearing, use of alcohol and drugs.

song to listen to when reading this: Cool about it, boygenious

abstract: listen, I don't even want to hear it. yes, it's Simon. I told you already, I'm gathering intel during this part. don't think too hard about it, this doesn't mean anything. and yes, I think she was telling the truth. I follow my instincts and they only failed me once or twice…

When the routine settled back in, she felt like the Al-Jareena mission was a thing of the past. A week had gone by, she had no news about the mission. Or Arash. She was snapping her fingers following the rhythm of the music. 'And one, two, balancé!' She watched as the girls rehearsed in front of her, moving in pairs, one from each side of the room. They had been going on and on for an hour, the poor girls were exhausted. 'Okay, from here, piquè', she had been demonstrating everything, trying to remember her notes and the changes she had to make to the original choreography. Her blue leotard was sticking on her skin, she could feel sweat dripping down her back and in between her breasts. Her bun was starting to come untied, she kept fixing some shorter hair behind her ears. 'I don't want to see those stiff hands Jenny, please', she resumed, 'piquè, finish on your right leg. Sam and Gemma, you're going to go stage left with two saut de basque'. She stopped talking to demonstrate the jump, which was quite difficult, she had to admit. 'You finish on relevè, arms in fifth position, then repeat to the other side'. She was too old for all this activity, (Jude is delusional, she's 26). She had to catch her breath without letting the girls know she was getting tired. 'Then, Kyla, Cassie and Luna, same thing to the right as soon as the first two finish jumping, same thing to the left with group three.' She instructed and approached the mirrors in the front of the room. 'Let's see it, please'.

She packed her bag while the girls said bye to her. God, did she love being called 'Miss Alba'. She put on sweats, lifting them up over her legs without bothering to remove the pink tights she hated so much. She preferred black ones, they concealed stretch marks, cellulite… See, if the school was hers, she would let her ballerinas pick the colour they wanted. She could see during the lessons some of them were self conscious about their bodies, like she had been for years when she was younger. The way they looked at each other in the mirrors, like they were comparing themselves to the others. Some were thinner, some had bigger bums, bigger breasts, some had more muscle, some you could see their whole ribcage sticking out. School policy, black leotard and pink thighs. They were too young. But still, even Alba herself had some serious issues with her figure, demonstrating in front of everyone was challenging and took a tool on her mental health sometimes. She knew she was fit, don't get me wrong, she had worked fucking hard for years to get to where she was. Strong, lean quads, a good set of abs. She had followed every diet in the world, she learned so much about what foods not to eat, how to get the perfect body… How to be slim and toned and have fat in the right places. She gained back weight after the 'bad year' when she didn't work and decided she was not gonna feed herself anymore. Cooking was just too much back then, she spent hours going on walks with headphones in, on the verge of passing out. She was better now, she only had those thoughts every now and then. They were under control, she was healthy. Let me tell you, her legs, arms, her hips, a fucking work of art. Still, being watched by those young girls who probably spent way too much worrying about their weight and having to be the representation of perfection was daunting. Keep your abs thigh, your foot straight, your hips aligned. Hide how painful it is, hide the fact your calf is cramping and you're losing balance. A game of pretend.

When she got to work the next day, she was surprised to see a special someone waiting for her beside her door. No fucking way. She stopped in her tracks when he saw him, bag hanging from her shoulder, boots clicking on the floor. What are you doing here, how do you know this is my office? Did you ask around? Are you following me? She approached him and he took a step towards her. He had a blue jacket on, no skull mask today, simple black one. She could finally see his hair colour, dirty blonde. He needed a trim. 'Can I help you?' she said. Well well well. 'Not really' he replied, crossing his arms against his chest. He was tall, he was scarily tall. She had to tilt her head to look at him. That position made his arms look even bigger. She no problem admitting how good looking he was. 'Am I in trouble?' she asked tilting her head to the side. His mask moved slightly, but his eyes didn't exactly show a particular emotion. Was he smiling or about to punch her, she didn't know. She had always loved risks. 'You're not' he answered. He wasn't in the mood for jokes maybe. Noted.

She nodded and took a step towards the office door unlocking it and getting in, supposing he would follow. Being in there made her feel slightly more secure. It was a place where she normally had some authority. Not with him she didn't. He closed the door behind him as she put her bag on the desk. The office had two big windows which let in few shy rays of sunshine. She had a couch with a few pillows for the patients and a chair for her. She looked at him and indicated the couch, as to say 'sit'. He really didn't want to. He felt like a patient. He went to therapy before, he just didn't want to be her patient. He stood there in the middle of the room watching Jude take off her coat and hang it on the chair. She wore jeans today. Tight jeans and a jumper. He could see her boots clearer now, they were shiny and the tip of the shoe was round. They looked from the 80's. She had cream coloured socks. She looked younger dressed like that. She looked less professional and more… a civilian, a normal 23 year old girl. He had settled that was her age. Her hair loose, her casual outfit, she looked ready for a walk in the park. He wondered if she walked in the park with her dog. She looked like she had a normal job, like waitressing or maybe she was a painter or a student. She looked like she could go to the movies dressed like that, or play bowling. She looked like she was about to sit down, take her shoes off, get comfortable and tell him about her day, talk about nothing for hours without ever boring him.

She finally spoke, sitting down in her leather chair. 'Why are you here?' she asked, her hands on her thighs. 'You can sit if you want', she added. He still wouldn't move. 'I wanted to apologise for asking about last year, I realised it might be a sensitive topic'. His voice was low and soothing, his British accent heavy on every word. She didn't expect that. That was very considerate of him, the 6 foot soldier standing in the middle of her office like the representation of death that comes knocking at your door. What a strange thing to say man, did you hear stories? Did you hear your friends say I faked it? Cause I know they're saying it. 'Thanks', she said softly, a tone she had never used with him. She tried not to get triggered by his words, not to let her mind wonder back to the event he was referring to. She had to fight hard to not let her brain spiral, a fight against herself. She always seemed to lose. 'It's just something really bad, I don't like to think about it more than I already do', she explained. His eyes were fixated on her like she was a wild animal about to go extinct. He nodded and silence filled the room.

'How did the mission go?' She asked even if she already knew the answer. She was just making conversation. He didn't want to stay too much. He thought about seeing her, he thought about talking to her again and now that she was there, now that he purposely went to her office to talk, he wanted to run. 'Good. Good, yeah, thanks to you, actually'. He finally sat down. That was what patients saw then. The desk behind her, the windows and her, on the leather chair. He tried to imagine her during sessions. Her back straight, compassionate eyes, maybe a notebook on her lap. The window on her right illuminated only half of her face. Making her half an angel. She wasn't commenting on his answer, she squinted her eyes. 'Are you saying I was right and you were wrong?' she asked. Cheeky. She wasn't smiling, cause she knew she was right all along. 'I'm saying you got lucky.' She made him weak, his mouth was dry. 'So what are you gonna do next? I might get lucky again', she said. Could he tell her? She already knew so much. He decided he could share, vague answers only. 'We find where they took Khorram, we'll probably find Arash as well. We leave in a week.' She kept biting her lower lip, not in a provocative way. She was thinking. 'What did he do exactly? He's the one with that snake flag right?' she asked. She was informed. She had seen the flag she was referring to on the news and on social media. It was a green flag with a snake print, with red eyes. A symbol. 'The viper, yes. We've been following him for some time. Human trafficking, mainly.' Her expression was of disgust. 'He formed an army, he controls the main cities, he lets people starve, public executions…' he decided to stop there. She nodded, she got the gist. 'Makes sense…' she murmured. 'Reign of Terror kinda thing.' There was silence again between them.

'Reign…' he felt bad that he didn't know what she was talking about. He didn't have a degree. Jude had probably 4 or 5. But no, he wasn't that cultured. It made him feel small. Guns and war, he was the best. It was the second time he didn't know what she was talking about, she said something about a Little King or some shit. (It was the Little Price, the book). 'French Revolution, doesn't matter', she cut him off. Don't make me feel stupid Jude. He got up saying he better be going, she did too, she said 'of course'. She offered him her hand to shake. You're Italian, he decided. The hand gestures, the physical touch. Yes, to Simon shaking your hand twice was considered physical touch. She wasn't British, she was too polite and beautiful for it. How do you speak English so well then. What made you come here? What's your real name something Italian like Julia or Sarah? He reached for her hand, glad he was wearing gloves this time so he couldn't feel her skin. Less of her to think about. She looked at him, then looked down to their hands, still holding it. Her soft, caramel skin, with those dainty black nails against his skeleton printed gloves. She turned his hand so she could see the skeleton print and smiled, with her head tilted down. A smirk. She had dimples. Her eyelashes were almost touching her eyebrows. He let go of her hand and turned around, regretting he didn't wear his other mask. Would have hidden the fact that he was blushing.

notes: I was listening to 'cool about it' by boygenius when writing this. also, writing ballet is fucking hard… how do I describe the pain. also also, Jude's shoes are those chunky coquette Mary Jane shoes that you wear with socks.

notes: Julia and Sarah are not correct spellings of Italian names, more on the American side. makes sense Simon doesn't know how to spell the Italian versions. (they are Giulia and Sara). How are you guys doing, you all good? You guessed it I'm still taking my exams and working and being clinically insane and unbelievably tired.

love, mare.

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