#still trying to nail down an art style but oh well

[wheredafandomat]

For Better or For Worse

Chapter 1 Next Chapter Series masterlist

Loki x female reader

18+ | this fic will contain adult themes, smut, swearing, angst - I’ll continue to update. Please be aware that there may be triggering themes in future e.g. loss of child. Please do not proceed if you may be triggered.

“Well bloody get on with it.” Loki cursed, his voice echoing through the grand room as he ran his fingers through his hair. There were few things Loki disliked, one of them being having to spend time with his family, more so his brother considering that now he’d never have to see his his father again. Gently patting Lokis shoulder, Rose looked pointedly at Miss Walters who was yet to open the sealed document sitting in front of her.

“Apologies but I’m just waiting for one more person.” She answered, Lokis brows furrowing in confusion as she spoke.

“One more person? What? We’re all the old fools ever known.” Loki scoffed.

“Loki.” Frigga interjected.

“Have I lied?” Loki shrugged.

“Loki.” Thor spoke warningly as Loki continued to ramble.

“Unfortunately I cannot begin as there is another name here.” Miss Walters cut in, the room falling silent.

“Who’s?” Loki ventured.

“Oh apologies for my tardiness.” You spoke, sauntering into the room as Loki stiffened, his jaw clenching.

“Oh you’ve got to be joking.” He murmured.

“Thank you Miss Walters” you smiled at the solicitor before turning to Frigga and making your way to her “Frigga” you beamed, kissing each others cheeks before your attention was stolen by Thor standing to his feet with open arms. Practically running, you jumped into his embrace before kissing his cheek, unaware of Lokis glaring. “Thorr.” You grinned as he put you down before you finally, finally acknowledged Loki. “Loki” you spoke venomously as if the name burned to recall “and you must be his new bed warmer.” You smiled at the woman sitting next to him.

“Excuse me?” Loki spoke for her.

“I’m joking, it’s all in jest” you lied, holding your hand out to her “lovely to meet you.”

“And you are?” She questioned, looking you up and down.

“No one.” Loki answered for you at the same time as you said “his wife. Well, ex wife” you explained “we didn’t quite work out, you see, Loki has a little problem in the bedroom department and he just left me completely unsatisfied and then there’s the greasy hair and the—”

“Alright that’s enough” Loki cut in harshly before quieting his tone “my mothers present y/n and that was one time, only the once.”

“Apologies.” You smiled curtly before taking your seat for the reading of the Will.

You mainly focused on your new manicure as the Will was read considering you didn’t nor were you expecting to hear your name. You assumed anything you would have been left was taken out after the divorce, although, that wouldn’t explain why your name was still there. You focused harder on your nails as Lokis apparent girlfriend rubbed his shoulder reassuringly, occasionally pecking his cheek whenever another asset was left to Thor. You kept trying to keep focus on the expensive art decorating your nails but your eyes kept venturing to Loki. You didn’t know what to expect considering you hadn’t seen him in well over a year but it wasn’t this. He looked eerily the same, it hurt even more that he did. Last night you found yourself almost praying that he looked different, maybe shorter hair, maybe his style had changed, maybe he just carried himself differently but no, no, this was the same Loki, the one you fell in love with, the one you married, the one you lost.

“My final asset, being my estate, is to be left to y/n y/l/n.” Miss Walters read, instantly catching your attention as your eyes flew up to hers.

“W-what?” Loki questioned, outraged as he stood to his feet before turning towards Frigga and Thor. “Mother? Surely he couldn’t have made that Will with sound mind, there must be a way to contest it.” He insisted.

“I’m afraid not.” Miss Walters answered for Frigga.

“This must be a mistake, she” Loki began, pointing at you “she has no claim to this house or this family for that matter.” He continued to argue, mostly to himself as you mouthed a wow before rolling your eyes, trying to hide your own shock. This was the last thing you expected.

After a while, Miss Walters began packing her things to leave whilst you stood and made your way to Frigga who was being very quiet considering everyone else present were all speaking. Pulling up a chair next to her, you reached into your bag.

“I know it’s nothing” you began, handing her a velvet box which she took gratefully, recognising the design before you hugged her properly. “but I thought you’d want it.” You spoke into her shoulder.

“Thank you dear.” She sniffled.

“I am so, so sorry for your loss and I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

“You’re here now. I’ve missed you.” She answered.

“I’ve missed you too.” You agreed. “And Frigga, I don’t plan on selling the estate, don’t feel you need to leave you can stay here.”

“She’s a bitch.” Rose chimed in as Loki watched your interaction with Frigga.

“Mhm.” He hummed in reply, unable to look away from you.

“Let’s go Loki.” Rose insisted, standing infront of him and blocking his view of you.

Once everyone had dispersed, you took it upon yourself to venture up to the east wing where you used to be when you were with Loki. You were unsure how it looked now and whether or not it had changed. You walked up the stairs, each step reminding you of a different memory before you turned down the hallway to the east wing. You smiled as you saw your old bedroom door, a little bit of paint scratched off near the top from when you banged a piece of furniture against it when you moved in. You opened the door, eyes scanning the room as you gasped a little, surprised that it practically looked untouched, the ghost of your memories still haunting the place. You stepped inside, fingers running over the dusty dressing table as your eyes continued scanning the room. When they landed on a photo album, you picked it up before taking your seat on the bed and flicking through the pages. Pictures of you and Loki filled each page almost bringing a tear to your eye as you ran your thumb over one of the glossy pieces of paper. You both looked so happy, you don’t remember the last time you were happy, truly happy.

You’re not sure when you laid down or when your eyes fell closed but the last thing you remembered was sitting on the same bed as you begged Loki not to go, not to leave and the heartbreak and betrayal that followed when he did go. Some memories were better left forgotten.

This gif has nothing to do with the fic it’s just funny to me 😂 - let me know what you’re thinkinggg, I’ve got a couple ideas for some fics so I think I’ll write some first chapters then whichever one gains a lil traction I’ll continue instead of just boring you all with something self indulgent 😂💓

Next

Tags

@mischief2sarawr @mcufan72 @lokisgoodgirl @lokiprompts @mochie85 @vickie5446 @fictive-sl0th @peaches1958

#it’s almost 3am #loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfic #loki (marvel) #oc fiction #tom hiddelston loki #loki fanfiction #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki angst #loki marvel

[kafkaoftherubble]

pitching akudama drive to you, without relying on cutthroat's cuntiness to get me through it

SO the basic premise is that it's a cyberpunk retro future world of Japan, years after a devastating war between cities. criminals in this world are dubbed the Akudama and ranked according to the severity of their crimes, most of our main cast are the highly sought after S-rank. there's also a task force of executioners, who are like... the American police 😍 they can kill criminals

this here is miss 一般人 (yes everyone's got a code name and they are all very on the nose, say hello to Ordinary Person. she is very ordinary)

after a small misunderstanding, she's arrested and accused being a swindler. and without explaining too much of the plot, she essentially gets forced into pretending that she too, is an akudama, as an entire group of them is forced to work together to complete a job. eventually her false persona of being Swindler becomes who she truly is and I could not convey just how satisfying that character turn around is

the strong theme here though, seen especially near the end, is how criminals are human. how they all have different reasons and motivations for committing their crimes, and how they're people beyond just that, yet they're being hunted down and executed for it.

it's about how the government can be corrupt, and if they have the power to kill criminals... well then, it's just a matter of deciding who the criminals ARE and killing them (that foot in the door to be allowed to kill anyone you dislike because Oh Well they're a Criminal)

it's about carving your own path in life with tooth and nail, to not let yourself be held down and killed or have your life stripped away from you. fighting for a better future.

anyways it's only 12 beautifully animated episodes long, every character is a delight and it's just got a fun story in general

also cutthroat will be sad if you don't watch it

Okay, the sci-fi setting is a big plus point because I like sci-fi in general! Also, the part about the American Police deadass made me laugh!

The art style looks like something I've seen but I don't remember what it is. It's like... the style used in Persona! The video game, I mean.

Hmm... "Becoming the mask" as a trope is a bit of a neutral thing for me, to be honest. I think the Past Me had a fill of this with Durarara!! back then, haha. Being a swindler is a bit of a plus point, though, because I love stories about noble-hearted confidence people. Does this Normal Person Girl actually pull off really wild, big-brained insane cons like the French show Lupin or the anime Great Pretender? If she did, it would be a very big plus point! I dig that stuff so much because I love trying to figure tricks out!

As for the part about humanizing criminals—it's a wee bit reminiscent of Psycho-Pass, which I really enjoyed. I'm also currently reading Ajin, which has shades of this in its themes. Since I'm currently being fed, I'm quite neutral about this specific theme for now.

Overall, it is quite an interesting premise! I will hold onto it and wait for its Interest Meter to be filled even more.

Weird that I have never heard of this anime before! I mean, sure, I don't consume fiction a gargantuan lot compared to most people on Tumblr, but I still fancy myself a wee bit more learned than actual casuals! So how is it that I have never heard of this? Is your fandom big?

Also, Cutthroat can cry but I find it a bit suspect if he can cry. I mean, this guy's name is screaming "funky happy serial killer" so much!

#Ricecooker Ginger Agendaist Isopod Activist Rae #I usually have a weak spot for white haired characters though #I don't know if this one will be the norm... or the exception AHAHAHHA

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball Super 116

GOKU VS. KEFLA: THE FINAL ROUND

This is it!  The climactic conclusion of the best fight in Dragon Ball Super!  There must be a winner!

Against all odds, Goku has somehow tapped into Autonomous Ultra Instinct for a second time!  Whis never dreamed he would figure it out ever again, much less a few minutes after the first time!  So Kefla’s doomed, right?   Well don’t write her off yet.  Kefla’s still got a lot left in the tank.  For example, she decides to see Goku’s Ultra Instinct and raise him Super Saiyan 2!  Well, that might not sound like a big deal, but when a Fused Saiyan does it, it means a lot.

And there’s the abs.  When I got to these episodes, I was kind of shocked by how skinny Kefla was in her base form, and then she went Super Saiyan and bulked up, but not as much as I remembered.  Now at SSJ2, she’s starting to look more like I remembered.  The key to this is that she’s combining Caulifla’s SSJ and SSJ2 forms with Kale’s Legendary Super Saiyan form, which gets more muscular the stronger she becomes.  So I guess they had to start with a pretty skinny Kefla, because they couldn’t have her beef up as big as Kale, or that would defeat the idea of it being a fusion with a smaller character. 

Oh this is a really cool shot of the arena. 

So it’s pretty much like we saw the last time Goku used this power.  Jiren couldn’t touch him, and neither can Kefla now.  And it’s not for lack of trying.  As strong as Kefla is, I think there’s a solid argument that she could give Jiren a run for his money. 

Okay, I think her hair tie is gone now, the same way Kale always loses hers when she transforms.  Kefla’s hair has always confused me so just knowing that there’s been a hair tie involved is a relief.  

Meanwhile, Vegeta watches Goku playing the artful dodger and he finally gets a clue: this was the ideal style that Whis told them about in Resurrection F.  Vegeta’s all mad that Goku went and surpassed him again.  Sure, Vegeta, he did it just to spite you, because that’s what everything is about, after all.

Here’s a cool spot where Kefla flies after Goku who falls off the side of a cliff, and then he digs his heels into the rock and leans back so Kefla can’t hit him.  Wild.

Or, rather, he does this so he can hit her.  But that’s the trick, you see....

As powerful as Goku has become in this state, he’s mostly only able to use it for defense.  Kefla can’t even touch Goku, but on the other hand, Goku’s attacks aren’t nearly as strong as Kefla was expecting.  He makes a little headway with it, but he’s still not hitting her hard enough to defeat her.  And maybe he could take his time with this and wear her down, but he doesn’t have that long.  The UI power could wear off any second now. 

As Whis explains to the others, even those who can use Ultra Instinct have trouble using it offensively.  Goku’s problem is that he’s still having to use his brain to tell his body how to attack, and that interferes with his body acting autonomously for defense.  That’s why his attacks are so weak.  And if he doesn’t figure out a solution soon, he’ll run out of juice and Kefla will win.

So Goku calls his shot: He’s going to end this fight with one more attack.

Kefla doesn’t take kindly to this, and ramps up her power even further.  Now she’s shooting concentrated ki blasts in every direction, and they rip up everything they touch. 

She just starts slinging all this red shit everywhere, and Goku hops and flips through it as he moves in closer to her...

And the whole time, he’s chargin’ up...

Kefla’s just screaming and cackling like a maniac.  I really have to hand it to the dub VA’s for this, Elizabeth Maxwell (Caulifla) and Dawn Bennet (Kale).  DBS was the first time I ever watched a Dragon Ball series in Japanese first, and I was curious how the dub would handle the new characters, and I’m really pleased with Kefla’s manic energy.  They nailed it. 

She keeps firing red lasers, but Goku’s getting closer and closer...  Finally he jumps toward her, ready to fire...

Ah, but that plays right into her hands!  Remember, no flying in the Tournament of Power, so now that Goku’s jumping at her, he can’t steer or dodge!  So now she can concentrate all that power she was slinging around every direction, and aim it right at him!

THE POWER OF...!

CHRISTMAAAAAASSSSS!

But then Goku just does this sweet midair flip and skates along the front of her blast, using his ki ball like a weird little skateboard!

HOW THE FUCK IS HE DOING THIS?! 

KALE LOOKS UP AND SHE’S LIKE “AWWWWW SHIT!”

HAPPY...!

HANUKKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

Kefla gets blasted through the stage!  Then her Potara shatter, and coincidentally...

... the Fusion dissolves, and so it’s Caulifla and Kale who tumble to the bench!

They’re OUT. 

Kale apologizes for losing, while Caulifla cries out for revenge.  Yes!  Fight Goku again!  Give us Kefla/Goku II!  Make it happen!

So now Team Universe 6 is down to just two fighters: Saonel and Pilina. They vow to win, but come on.  What chance could they have?

Meanwhile, that last round with Kefla finally got Jiren’s attention.  At least he’s not meditating like he planned to do for the second half.

As for Goku, he’s tapped out all over again.  I guess it’s a net positive, since at least this time around he won a fight with Ultra Instinct instead of eating a super punch from Jiren.  But still, if he plans to defeat Jiren, he’ll have to do Ultra Instinct a third time, and can he even handle that?  Well, those are matters for later episodes.  As for this one, what else can I say but:

This was a brilliant finish to a classic fight.  A lot of dumbasses out there were only happy to see Caulifla and Kale eliminated from the competition because they hated those two.  But discerning Caulifla and Kale likers, such as myself, know the truth, that Episodes 113-116 were a bona fide barn-burner, and the best of what Dragon Ball Super had to offer.  Show me a fight in GT that came anywhere close to this.  No, don’t bother, because I already watched GT recently, and I have 65 haikus that say there isn’t one. 

I’ll admit, there have been times where I thought this liveblog was a mistake, because most of the stuff I’ve been covering has been pretty weak.  A lot of it is downright terrible.  But I knew the Tournament of Power would cheer me up, and that these four episodes in particular would really cheer me up, and I was right.  It’s like all the frustration and regret from before has metled away.  There’s 15 episodes of Super left to go, and I’m refreshed and ready to tackle ‘em!

Well, later, I think. 

#dragon ball #dragon ball super #2023dbapocryphaliveblog #tournament of power #goku #kefla #caulifla #kale #113-116 are the best episodes

[the-diabolist]

Wild

Request: Love, my love, oh what i would do if you give me a hunting Mason and a fighting y/n with hate fucking. I will do anything you want. Any art of any person. Again i love you 💚

I am exhausted xD enjoyyy! btw the self defense move I describe here is legit and everyone should learn it

c.w: Gender/body neutral reader, borderline dubcon, predator/prey dynamics, wound squeezing, grappling, fuck or die (basically), hatefucking (or dislike-fucking, whatevs), fingering, size difference, mild sadism, rough treatment, creampie implied. 2.5k

He'd sliced through the side of your leg with a crossbow bolt yesterday, and since then it'd been nearly impossible to lose him for long. At first, it'd probably been the blood trail, and now it was probably the limp giving you away. He was, unfortunately, proving to be a proficient tracker.

You hear the slightest shifting of detritus behind you and surge to your feet without even turning to look, ignoring the sharp pain in the muscle of your thigh.

The urge to cry rises within your chest for the first time since you were injured; he's finding you so quickly, you've barely been able to rest. You feel like he's constantly at your heels, running you down like a hound on a fox. Your nerves are shot from the constant strain. You're slowing down.

Luckily, he's not very fast himself - he's a big guy - and his style is more hunting-stalking than outright chasing. When you run, you're still able to put enough distance between the two of you to hide from him... for now.

You throw yourself into a cluster of bushes and fight to control your breathing. After a few minutes, you start to think you might be safe, but then you hear his footsteps again. Damn him.

"C'mon out," he calls, coaxing. "Know you're 'round here somewhere. Might as well get it over with, don'cha think?"

You don't move an inch. You barely even breathe. You can't see him, but he sounds close. You consider taking off again, but... your leg doesn't have much strength left in it, you think. And it's probably too late for that, anyway. It's probably too late for anything.

You scream when a hand crashes through the thin branches and scrabbles for you, finally closing in an iron grip just as you bolt from your cover. What's more, your leg buckles, and you collapse to the earth.

"Found you," he smirks, kneeling quickly in front of you and wrapping a hand around the back of your knee. He yanks, knocking you onto your back, and you start to panic; this is not a position you want to be trapped in.

Before he can grab your other leg, you pull it away, then lash out, sending your foot toward his face like a striking snake. He falls backwards a bit to dodge it, but manages to keep hold of your knee.

"Let me go, you mons--" you break off with a shout as he moves his hand further up your leg and squeezes your bandaged wound. You think you feel it reopen.

"Plannin' to make me? With that bad leg of yours?" He chuckles. Your hands frantically grab and pull at his, desperately sinking your nails in to try and force him to release you. Blood starts to seep through your clothes as you watch. He doesn't budge, and the pain is nearly blinding, so you instinctively send your fingers flying toward his face instead.

That gets his attention; the smile drops off his face as he leans away to protect his eyes, losing his grip on you in the process. You try to scramble away, but you can't get up fast enough - your leg is basically just dead weight now. He tackles you back down, slamming your torso against the forest floor, knocking the wind out of you. You begin to cough uncontrollably, and he takes the opportunity to climb between your legs and put his hands around your neck.

Luckily, you remember one thing in particular from your self-defense class, something you can do when placed in exactly this situation. You steel yourself; your wound isn't going to like this.

Your arms come up and cross over his, keeping them right where they are and locking into place, before you bring your legs up and hook your knees over his shoulders. He starts to resist, but you draw your feet back down toward yourself and he freezes, feeling the pain bloom in his shoulder joints.

You still as well; for a moment, the two of you just stare at each other, breathing hard.

"Hm. Full'a surprises, aren't you, little wolverine?" His smirk shifts into a grimace as you put just a tiny bit more pressure on his joints.

"Shut up or I'll dislocate your shoulders," you growl.

Silence falls for another few moments as you try to think of a way out of this. He's stuck for now, but so are you. Even if you do dislocate his shoulders, he's on top of you, and he's too heavy to just push off. Plus, he can probably still strangle you afterwards, if he can power through the pain.

He seems to be reaching the same conclusions as you.

"So what's yer plan with this little stalemate? Stay like this until you get too weak to keep me here? Gotta be a better option."

He's right. This is a stall tactic at best, and you both know it... but then why not just wait you out? Why negotiate?

"... Like what?" You ask suspiciously. Your bad leg is already starting to tremble from the strain. He eyes you analytically for a few seconds before he responds.

"Got another game we could play," he purrs, a low rumble, breath ghosting over your face. He smells like hearthfire and musk - despite everything else, it's not unappealing. "And if you play along, I'll give ya 24 hunt-free hours and a new pack of supplies."

That definitely sounded too good to be true. You're about to ask what the game entails when he rocks his hips against you, letting you feel how much he's enjoying the current state of affairs and leaving you in very little doubt about what he has in mind.

"Well, ain't that a pretty sight," he laughs, full and booming. "Didn't know yer eyes could get that big around. That's not even all of it, darlin'."

You don't know how to respond. You don't think you really have a choice; it's too good of a deal - life-savingly good, even - to pass up, and honestly... yes, the man is terrible, and he's trying to kill you, but now that he's so close, he's also kinda turning you on. For whatever twisted reason, his scent and his voice and the things he's saying to you are all conspiring to warm you up in some pretty specific places.

"... Okay," you breathe, sounding almost timid. You clear your throat, willing your voice to come out stronger. "As long as you throw in a first aid kit and a blanket."

"You drive a hard bargain," he chuckles again. "Good for you. Deal."

Now comes the part, you suppose, where you have to trust him not to kill you the second you release him. It's not easy; you lapse into silence as you try to gather the necessary courage. You remind yourself that this is your only chance, even if it's a slim one, and you drop your legs from his shoulders, allowing them to lay on either side of him. The instant relief in your injured leg is enough to bring tears to your eyes.

You watch him warily as he pulls away from you, sitting up on his knees. It seems he's making no move to kill you yet, anyway.

"Goddamn," he grunts, rolling his shoulders, trying to work out the waning pain. "Quite a trick. Where'd you learn that?"

"Self-defense class," you breathe, only half paying attention to the conversation, your mental preparations taking precedent. He nods in acknowledgement. "So... where do you want me?" You ask, only a little tentatively, to your credit.

"Just stay right there, honey," he says, shedding his coat, "I've got ya."

He unbuckles his belt next, and the sound sends an uncomfortable bolt of adrenaline through you, but it's nothing compared to the near-panic you feel when he starts unfastening and pulling off your pants. Having the man's hands on you is practically torturous, even though he isn't hurting you - because he has before, and he can so easily. Your body reacts to him the way you imagine a rabbit reacts to the cry of a hawk.

"Mm, look at you," he hums appreciatively once you've been bared below the waist, staring voraciously, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were excited."

Okay, well, other than that uniquely human reaction, you suppose. You feel your face heat up, ashamed and a little annoyed by your body's eagerness.

Then his fingers lightly brush over you, and your mind moves on to other things. You gasp, thighs tensing on either side of him. His touch gets firmer, stroking, making you buck your hips against your better judgment. He chuckles.

"Hurry up," you grumble through gritted teeth, "get it over with already."

"C'mon now, that attitude's no fun," he purrs, pulling his hand away from you in order to retrieve a small bottle from his pocket. "Besides, you don't want me movin' too fast, trust me."

He pops the cap off the bottle and upturns it, squirting some of the contents into his hand. He spreads it over his fingers.

Lube. Why does he have that on him?!

His fiendish preparedness aside, you can't deny the relief that washes over you at the sight. Based on what you'd felt of him earlier, you'd been worried about taking him without harm.

His hand dips back down and then lower, until slick fingers are circling your entrance.

"Go ahead, ask for it," he rumbles.

"Ugh, fuck you," you spit. He smirks, and starts sinking one large digit inside you.

It's a lot, even with lube; you can't help but squirm. He's going too fast. You start trying to push him away, but he doesn't stop until he's buried to the knuckle. You whimper; he groans.

"You said hurry," he reminds smugly.

"Fuck you," you reinterate.

You're still grasping his wrist as he starts to move it, sliding his finger back and forth - slowly at first, but steadily faster until the motion is smooth and easy, and you're biting back pleasured moans.

He slides in a second one and you're back to where you started, arching and trying to wiggle away from him. You really don't know where he gets off having such thick fingers. He seems to be enjoying the show, but at least he's prepping you well. You honestly hadn't expected as much.

"Ready for me?" He asks, once you've adjusted to the second digit.

You figure you ought to be, right? You're pretty sure your voice would come out breathy and tremulous if you tried to speak, so you just nod, eyes closing for a moment of rest.

You feel and hear him rustling around, dealing with his clothing, and then he's grabbing your thighs (thankfully avoiding your wound, which is still oozing a bit) and pushing them back until you're nearly bent in half. The position is very similar to the defensive one you were in earlier.

You feel him against you, skin to skin, as he lines himself up, and you gasp quietly, eyes flying open. Two fingers wasn't enough, you realize regretfully.

"Told ya that wasn't all of it," he chuckles, and starts pushing forward.

He doesn't rush, thank heavens, but he also doesn't go slowly enough. You writhe more than ever - you don't know what you expect, it's not as if you can get out from under him, or even make him stop, but the burning stretch is just too much and you can't stay still, can't keep the frantic little pathetic sounds from falling out of your mouth.

"Mmm, just like that," he says with a deep groan; your obvious discomfort must be turning him on.

"Ffff-fuh," you stumble, unable to summon up the energy and presence of mind for your usual rejoinder.

"Hm? That smart mouth o' yours finally struck dumb?"

You rouse enough to glare at him - that stupid smirk of his drives you batty - but then he sheaths himself as far as he can go and you let out a cry. He stills, gazing down at you as you try to even out your breathing.

"God, you're just annoyingly large in every possible way, aren't you?" You sigh, glare returning to grace your features.

"Thought you'd be able to handle it without whining, vicious little thing that you are," he purrs, "guess I overestimated you. Should I be more gentle with your delicate frame, darlin'?"

You snarl at him, baring your gritted teeth.

"You are such an asshole. Are you ever going to fuck me, or would you rather sit here jawing all d--"

You cut off as he moves his hips, pulling back almost all the way.

"Careful what you wish for," he says, and you realize what he's about to do a second before he does it. Your eyes widen.

"Wai--"

You nearly choke on your own tongue as he slams back into you mercilessly, jolting your body hard.

He follows it up with another, and another, until your hands scrabble uselessly across his back, nails biting into the muscle as you cry out and whimper in wild desperation, rocking helplessly with his thrusts.

He likes it. You can tell by the grunts and growls, the way his rhythm is already starting to stutter.

Luckily for you, you've moved from pain-discomfort to pain-pleasure, and every hard and deep roll of his hips is stoking the flame, pulling the coil in your abdomen so tight that you think each one is going to be the one to make you finally snap. He's so big; the sensation is overwhelming.

Goddamn it. You're going to come for this asshole.

"C'mon, give it to me," he growls, as if reading your mind. Though you can imagine it's not hard to guess how close you are, based on the sounds you're making.

"No," you manage to snarl, completely aware that you lack the fortitude to deny his request even as you speak. You amend your statement. "Make me."

"Easily," he hums, and it only takes another moment before he does just that.

You climax so loud that you wouldn't be surprised if people in the nearest town heard you. He follows quickly afterward, though much more quietly. A long, rumbling groan is all you get from him.

You lay together for several minutes, breathing hard, bodies too spent to move, until finally he pulls out slowly and sits up.

"There now," he says, smiling almost fondly, "that wasn't so hard, now was it?"

You roll your eyes.

#I gotta start reining myself in jfc #Mason makes me verbose #the price of flesh #mason heiral #Rune writes fanfic

[hattiestgal]

what’s your character design process (if you have one?)

which of your characters has changed the most in terms of design? and the least?

Oh, this is a super fun one!

To answer your first question, I haven't done a whole lot of character design super recently, but I usually go into it with either an animal, an idea, or both!

When it comes to going into something with just an animal, usually I have a vibe I wanna capture that I think the animal captures well, and sorta elaborate on that vibe as I go. For example, when I was designing Allison, I knew I wanted a woman shaped like a fridge. That was pretty much all I knew. So, I started with figuring out how to translate the animal into my style (which usually starts with figuring out the head)

Usually, I try to draw something more accurate to the animal I'm after first. Even here, you can see me experimenting with how I wanted Allison to act. Most of the time, this leads into an initial concept sketch where I do the most elaboration on the initial vibe.

So suddenly, the fridge shaped woman is a goofball (shown in the head sketches), but she's also confident and handles a weapon that can punch through a LOT. Also, see her gloved hand? That wasn't initially a prosthetic arm. I just didn't want to draw individual fingers to add claws there, thus birthing her asymmetric design. Sometimes laziness breeds creativity!

Much of the process from here is adding on ideas until you've got a solid base for your character!

She's in the same universe as Lucy? Awesome! She's a cool badass who sometimes wears a shoulder cape? Neat!

From here, you reach the point where the character carves their spot into whatever world you place them in. You establish their relationships, their feats, their past, and you carve the world out for their role appropriately!

The big thing to keep in mind is that you're never gonna nail everything down just right the first time.

Now, for your second question!

I'm sorta torn on who's changed the most. Riley has certainly seen the biggest evolution through my art style, but their design has mostly stayed the same, and theres a few others who have a similar case, but honestly, I think Violette takes the cake for most changed design.

I already made a post about just how much her prosthetic has changed over the years, but she's also gotten a new hairstyle, and honestly, just a new vibe in general. For example, here, she was a lot more... Indifferent? Even mean to a degree. She's a goth/cyberpunk gal who's not gonna take shit from anybody. She was the mean dom-y type, y'know?

And while a lot of that has stayed with her in later versions of her design, she's a lot more prone to being soft and flirty, and only letting Riley see her more dominant nature, though even that is a lot less mean now.

She's a lot more of a fully realized person than she was before. Part of that plays into her story, while another part of that was me realizing how desperately her character needed to be fleshed out. She's still goth, though that never really changed. I think I mighta leaned into a little more recently, actually.

As far as my least changed character, it's gotta be Harlow. I went in with a plan and pretty much never strayed from it.

Like apart from filling out their story more, they've pretty much always been the whole "black cats are voids with eyes" trope that I wanted to make them, the whole void thing playing into their interest in being as gender ambiguous as I could make 'em.

#hat answers #my ocs #Allison Dudz #Violette Burrows #Harlow Reese #design talk #its kinda funny how little harlow actually changed #hope this was insightful!

[booksandchainmail]

Pale 9.z

One new wall nearly every second, all in red and shades of grey with the occasional stain in yellow or sepia tones.  The only ones that lingered were the ones that needed more time to allow blood to seep through cracks or for something to crawl between wallpaper and wall, one corner of the wall to the other.

well this is a horror aesthetic

Tashlit sat back in her chair, mouth closed, swallowing a few times to clear her throat because coughing wasn’t working. Painted nails. Her lips- she was pretty sure she had lipstick on. She’d only worn lipstick once and she had been five or six. The result had been a horror show and one very ticked off older cousin who hadn’t wanted her strict dad to know she owned any makeup.

alpeana nightmare? Or possessing someone somehow, but I don't think of that as something Tashlit can do. Maybe another realm?

A wall to her right flickered from being on fire to being skin and hair, with a texture that defied normal adjectives.  For less usual adjectives, genital sufficed, indistinct in gender but raw, goosebumped, and folded toward the center, framed with coarse hair.

I'm not even going to try to picture this

The girl, still rubbing at the eye that would have let her spot Tashlit, looked around.  Her irises were purple, the pupils vertical slits.  She set her eye on Tashlit, paused, and her expression went from sad to a wide smile. “Heyyyyy,” the kid said. “Tashlit!” “Verona.”

oh nice! I'm guessing that each of them subconsciously chose their avatar here? So Tashlit is human again, but dressed up in a way that she thinks of as fancy. And Verona is a furry kid marked with a tear.

“The adventure?  Dealing with the invaders?” Verona asked.  “I’m claiming the credit for the badass play that stopped Bridge.”

nice phrasing, and good establishing your participation

“That’s great!  What did you do?” “I think you should ask Lucy, she’ll tell that story better.”

lol

Avery was wearing a decorated jacket and button-up shirt with a copper-tinted sash and epaulets. An antler pin at her brow kept her hair back at one side, while the other side draped straight down.

nice! I like the pseudo-military look, and the asymmetric hair

“What demesne would you make?” Tashlit asked. “Oh man. Okay, so I’m a creative type, right? And art, really, is about testing and pushing boundaries…” “Really worried,” Avery elaborated.

seconding that worry :)

Snowdrop wore a simple white dress, earrings that were little silver opossums with the tails hooked through her earlobes, and she had tiny white flowers in her hair, one over one ear to start but getting more dense toward the bottom, until they were omnipresent.

fancier than I'd expect, but I guess it matches everyone else

Lucy was still recovering. She wore a halter-style dress, red, with jewelry matching her earring at her ear, brow, topping her ponytail like its own little tiara, as bangles, as a necklace, and as various rings, including two caps on the fingertips of her left hand, forming clawed tips.

nice! I like the jewelry, and the claws are a nice touch

"If I’m to be a corruptive ooze that seeps into patterns and processes, I’ll be a gentleman corruptive ooze.”

I like Montague

"Umm, Sabita was odd right out the gate.  The way my dad tells it, she looked normal for about five minutes, then a tiny snake slithered out of her nose and onto the beach, and then the floodgates opened.” “Floodgates?” Lucy asked. “Of snakes?” “Yeah. Ears, nose, mouth… everywhere. Handful every second. All shapes and sizes. But you know, my dad’s a trooper.”

did they ever stop?

"Last I saw her, she was doing a thing as a fortune teller.  Travel to a certain island, go to a cave, and there’ll be a woman in the shadows, who’ll tell you what’s to come.” “How do you learn that?” Verona asked. “I think she B.S.’s a lot of it."

I love this. Real mystical semi-divine snake woman, fake prophecizing. She should team up with Nicolette

“I visited other siblings.  Our whole deal, I’m not sure if anyone’s explained, Montague, is we’re like the bloodlines of Echidna, or Minos of Crete, or Jormungandr.  Sometimes you get a girl who has snakes instead of bodily fluids, sometimes you have a boy with sapphire skin who kills anyone who hears his voice, and sometimes that egg hatches and you have two dragons sharing one mind.  Mom found knotted places for them to reside, so you can only find them if you go looking.”

so cool

I mean, it sounds like it sucks for most of them, but so cool

"Um, one of my brothers is a big crime lord in a place knotted enough that someone with a ‘skin condition’ of not having skin gets a pass, and he really knew how to throw a party.  He bought me a, uh, dance, and the company of the male dancer for the evening, and… no thank you.” “No?” Avery asked.

huh.

Also, amused at Avery instantly perking up when Tashlit mentions not having been into (a) guy

“Aren’t you upstarts?” Montague asked.  “You’ve been given a lot of power in a short time.  You’ve already challenged a system you’ve known for months and it feels as if you might carry on doing that.”

and this is making a lot of people nervous

Avery shifted her seat, giving up on trying to keep Snowdrop from snacking.  “We’re looking for help, Montague, we want to make this work, here in Kennet, and we want you guys to feel at home.  But we also want things to be better.”

and sometimes those two goals are in conflict (see the Hungry Choir)

“I’ll take it in the positive, adventurous spirit it was offered,” Montague said, his voice briefly lapsing into feedback squeals for the ‘s’ sounds, before almost disappearing into a crackle.  “Much as you’ve done by indulging me here.”

Verona is good with "weird" Others

“For a vacation, dribbletits,” Avery said. Verona snickered at the insult.

same

“I was going to ask if you wanted company,” Tashlit told Verona.  “I’ve wandered around, and if it isn’t far, I can cover a lot of ground in a day.  But if it’s getting in the way of you spending time with your mom…”

yes! This would be neat, keep Verona from getting too isolated

“They can’t really figure out what my responsibilities should be,” Tashlit told him.  “I wasn’t brought in for any exact purpose.  I was brought in on Verona’s recommendation.”

:)

“You don’t know what binging is?  Oh my god…” Verona paused, her expression changing.  “Oh my god.  You haven’t watched all that much TV and movie stuff.  I can show you some of the best stuff and you’re totally unspoiled.  You haven’t even been ruined by trailers!  It’s a pure and vicarious-for-me viewing experience!”

I bet Verona would like liveblogs

“Says the horror fetishist,” Verona said.  “And the closet romance-movie-watcher.” “I’m not closeted, exactly, I just don’t broadcast it.  I like genres with a lot of conventions and movies that toy with those conventions.  Horror and romance are really formulaic.  It’s the same with music.”

that's actually a really cool way of looking at things. I know I appreciate books that are in conversation with their genre for genres I know well, but I hadn't thought about how more rigid genres would play into that

“I used to like romance movies, but then I got super sick of them really fast all of a sudden,” Avery said.

gee, I wonder why

“We can find you stuff, Avery.  Just gotta know where to look,” Verona said.

I feel like Verona could put together a list of good queer starter media. I bet Avery would like She-Ra.

"And I think my mom might be really careful about not causing too much fuss, sometimes, and Avery’s parents being there probably really helped, with that.” “Not making much fuss?” Verona asked.  “I guess you got that from your dad?” “I got it from me, if I’m being generous to myself,” Lucy said She sat back. “From Paul, if I didn’t.”

... ouch

"She saw the church and the church community as a kind of insurance, where you put in the hours and make your face known and they’ll support you if you’re ever in a pinch. That she really liked being able to shop around for a sub-community of people to spend time with."

I need to find more (non-religious) things like this as an adult. I was in a club in college that provided a lot of this, and I miss having that in person.

“Exactly, yeah,” Lucy said.  “Verona’s mom is really set on deep introspection and thinking about how to set up her life.  She’s smart and does this, I dunno, calculus?  Figuring out her church community, wine drinking buddies, work…”

Lucy means this in a complimentary way, but I could see Verona thinking of it as cold or unfeeling in the way her dad accuses her of being

“The Demesne ritual in particular is one I mind, because it means ceding ground, every time, and because it runs against the sect I belong to.  But they grow.”

Do Demesnes keep existing after the practitioner dies? This also reminds me of how demons operate, from Pact. Incremental progress that can't be undone.

“Boxes and box-makers,” Rook said.  “Cages and cage makers.  What is a home but four walls, a floor, a ceiling?  A container we make for ourselves.  What boxes do we fit in?  What boxes do others put us in, or lock us in?  Do you understand the thread running through this?”

I'm thinking of that one tumblr post about queer identity where the response to "Why would you define yourself with a label" is "As any cat can tell you, a box you choose for yourself is very different from one someone puts you in"

“There is a stopping point,” Rook told him.  She clicked the calipers closed, then slid them into her belt.  “That point is when you decide to stop playing games with the rules and get serious.”

ominous but cool!

"If you think of this as a game of chess, then those three girls don’t have any idea that they’re playing.  They are poised to lose, soundly and thoroughly.  As for myself, I don’t plan to lose.  It may not be a victory, but it shouldn’t be a loss.”

welp.

The outfits were similar to what they’d worn in the dream, if simpler.  Avery wore a light blue button-up shirt with sleeves rolled up to the elbow and black pants, hair in a similar style, and a matching pin to the dream.  Snowdrop wore a white dress that faded to gray at the bottom, slightly simpler opossum earrings, and silver eye shadow.  Her hair didn’t have as many flowers in them and they weren’t all snowdrops.  A lot were daisies and longer stems with very small white buds on them.  Lucy had done a good job there.

awww, this is nice

“I got so preoccupied making the pin for Avery and the earrings for Snowdrop that I sorta didn’t pack much,” Verona said. “I’m going to borrow some of Lucy’s stuff and my mom’s going to want to take me shopping, I bet.”

Getting to see people wearing jewelry you made is fun

All of it over stormy red-and-purple clouds, balloons, and dirigibles.  A train station in light, bright colors, occupied by predominantly young Others, poised over an open, wild, dreamlike sky that was more painting than reality.

this would also make really neat art

“Tashlit,” Verona murmured, pointing, “Meet Zed, Brie, Nicolette, Jessica, Tymon, Liberty, and Fernanda.  I guess Estrella had better things to do?”

oh nice! That's a good mix. Basically everyone they made a positive connection with at the Institute. Glad to see Fernanda sticking around after hanging out with Avery that once. And that they invited Estrella even if she couldn't make it. I wonder if Tymon is mainly here for Lucy?

“This isn’t about the Familiar ritual we’re about to do, but that’s a part of it. This is about attachments, forming bonds, and establishing long-term ties. I’ve been saying for a little while now that I think we need help. We’re willing to make deals if you want to ask for them, but we’d really like your support for what’s coming down the road.”

good to see Avery taking point on this! It will be useful to have these allies, and I think inviting them to the familiar ritual is a nice touch

#booksandchainmail reads pale #wildbow #pale

[going-getting-got-ghost]

Danny and the Slenderman Quest part 3: Inside the house (A)

*at the front door Danny turns the knob ever so slightly as the door creaks open*

Danny: oh lovely, it’s already open. Saves me from having to use my crowbar that I don’t have. Who leaves a house unlocked in the middle of no where?

Slenderman that’s who.

I bet he squanders here with his buddies Jason and Freddy and has cookouts and movie nights.

*Danny walks in*

Danny: oh nice, the place looks well kept. Slenderman must be a great housemaid, I wonder if that’s his side gig if he runs out of victims for the night. Would he have a quota?

Like he is limited to the amount of people he can kill?

“You’re lucky Jimmy, I hit my quota for the day you can go home. Say hi to your mom for me.”

Tucker: you might wanna shut the door dude.

*Danny turns around shutting the door*

Danny: I can’t lock it.

Tucker: I think you have to explore a bit more before you can.

Danny: oh great, I can see why this house is on the market for a cheap price, can’t lock the door unless you complete a quest in which an option is death.

*danny walks in a bit further*

Danny: oh hey, I can finally take a shower and get rid of all these allergies.

*danny sees a set of stairs and figures the likely hood of a shower on the first floor is very low. He crept up the stairs looking around a little before finding the first door. Opening it, it was a bedroom with another door leading into s bathroom. Walking inside his face turns to disappointment seeing as it only has a small tub and sink*

Danny: oh what the hell is this? I can’t shower in this? Looks like something out of the 1800s. Do they even have running water? Well it is in the middle of no where. Is the toilet outside? it’s the 21st century they have to have some kind of plumbing.

Tucker: dude, It’s a game.

Danny: still for a master bedroom they should have some Fend Shui in here. This style must be depression. if that is what they were going for. They nailed it.

Tucker: try looking somewhere else. Might have to turn something on.

Danny: I’d like to avoid doing that, from my experience in Fentonworks, any “on” button leads to bad situations.

*danny leaves the bathroom with out a shower and without cleared sinuses, he walks into another room across the way, peering in he sees the walls covered in graffiti and the room in shambles*

Danny: Slenderman forgot to clean his room before he left for the day. I’m telling his mom. And these trees all over the walls, that’s the one thing Slenderman really needs. An Art teacher. Forget stalking little kids, learn some proper art skills. Also, he’s not getting a tip, he missed this room. You’re slacking Slenderman! I want a discount!

Tucker: see anything in there.

Danny: Aside from the bad art and horrible housekeeping, nothing catches my eye.

Tucker: might have to go back downstairs.

*Danny leaves the room heading back down the stairs into the living room, the first thing that catches his eye is a radio and a tv*

Danny: Awesome! Time to crank up the volume and lounge a bit before I get kidnapped!

*Danny turns on the radio and a static sound can be heard from the radio before a voice started speaking*

#danny phantom #danny fenton #slenderman #tucker Foley #fan fic

[voidthewanderer]

INQUIRING MINDS WISH TO KNOW——>

For the OC Ask Game! ✨Creating your OCs✨

1, 3, 8, 12, 16 and 19 for Ripper, Shae and Arsenic!!!

:)

Please :))

Pretty please :)))

(Don’t make me whip out my quadruple chin!!!)

@anonwyvern || Questions About Creating Your OCs

Under cut for length; I needed to talk about my babiesss.

What was the first element of your OC that you remember considering (name, appearance, backstory, etc.)? 

Shae: Shae was appearance, though and through. She'd gone through so many changes; species changes as she traveled through fandoms and back and forth between getting pulled from them to be from original concepts. Being online during the massive point online where "Mary Sue bad and you're a terrible person for making them!", she kind of just went onto this backburner with everything; looks, appearance, story, everything.

Ripper: Mostly appearance, but a super loose as hell backstory as well. Rips was originally a Left 4 Dead OC and of a concept that never actually made it to the game at that. Most of what did exist of his backstory was just that he was an asylum escapee who was turned. Rather than the straight jacket being closed up, his arms were free. He's had the most changes over his entire timespan.

Arsenic: Appearance 100%. He actually was originally a concept made by my nephew! He wanted a zombie chef, so I made a zombie chef!

3. How did you choose their name? 

Shae: I honestly don't even remember where her name came from. It wasn't exactly a popular name when I made her, damn probably about seventeen years ago now? Maybe longer, I think.

Ripper: Was originally a sort of punny name. "A scream ripping at one's throat". Where Joseph Trumoil came from, is one of those things that just... happened. Sometimes names just get stuck in my head. I'll quote him directly from the WIP of Chapter 26 of Mnemonic Impressions for why it's still Ripper: "Thanks to my old line of work, if it were humanly possible at that time, I could rip someone apart and know exactly how to do it to cause the most damage; didn’t help I used t’ do some body building. My friends were… fucked up t’ say the least."

Arsenic: I kinda thought it would be funny for an undead, zombie chef to have his name be the same as a poison.

8. What (if anything) do you relate to within their character/story? 

Shae: Let's just say that I am actually very mouthy like Shae it. And, just like with her current situation with Sinjin, I need to learn how to keep my mouth shut so I don't get hurt.

Ripper: There's actually not much story wise I relate to with Rips. If anything, I'm envious of my own character. He's charismatic, charming, his style is impeccable. I guess he did get a lot of my "do no harm, but take no shit" personality.

Arsenic: The cooking! Arsenic is literally probably the person I would become (sans the murders) if I actually stayed in the food service industry.

12. What have you found to be most difficult about creating art for your OC (any form of art: writing, drawing, edits, etc.)? 

Shae: It's actually been difficult to keep her silver tongued, combative, defiant, but also keeping her... alive. In all honesty, she would probably be dead by now if I didn't mellow her out a bit. She's legit supposed to be as vile as Sinjin is, cutting some completely reprehensible stuff, but I also know that she would have been long since dead before her story even started.

Ripper: No lie, actually nailing down his official design. Every time I think I have something solid, I go "oh, this would work with him!" and then things would change. Rinse and repeat. Now it's more just trying to nail down exactly who I wanna build his facial structure off of, because William Treat is EXACTLY how he smiles, but I also adore him having sharp features like Dum Dum from Cyberpunk 2077 has. Trying to blend the two together is... fun.

Arsenic: HIS FACE. HIS FUCKING FACE. I DID IT TO MYSELF BUT GOD WHY

16. What is something about your OC can make you cry? 

Shae: Her story. Like, god her story is fucked up and just the fact that so much about her kids was kept from her and knowing everything she's gone through, that she's the way she is through so much tragedy and just out of a necessity to survive.

Ripper: Also his backstory, but also like... this man is such a sweetheart and sensitive. Be it because he's just being so goddamn cute or because he's going through an existential crisis, he's probably gonna say something that would either turn me into a mushy mess or bawling my eyes out because why did I hurt you this much.

Arsenic: There's two things with him. When he lets his walls down and lets people in, showing that he's not just a hardened ghoul who hates everything around him. Also, if anything were to happen to Crow, this man's heart would absolutely shatter and he'd probably lose his goddamn mind. That sort of mental torment of feeling like he's lost his soul mate, knowing how he'd react to it, especially now with them in his life again.

19. What is your favorite fact about your OC?

Shae: Not so much of a fact of the character itself (because imho anything I really say with her will give away parts of Addicted), but the fact that she's the second OC I've ever created! She's my second oldest OC, being seventeen (plus) years old.

Ripper: He's only second generation American born in his family! His parents are the first born, his grandmother is from Palermo, his grandfather from Verona.

Arsenic: No matter what, Arsenic was meant to cook and I don't mean that just by his concept alone. He's someone who would be considered to have a natural born talent for what he does and I genuinely cannot think of anything else I would have ever even considered putting him in. If it wasn't a chef, it would've been a cafe owner.

#shut it void #friend talk #thank you Anon!! #anonwyvern #oc: arsenic #oc: ripper #oc: shae wulfe

[commaclear]

"Yeah, no can do, kid." the lady told him frankly.

Wilbur crossed his arms, tilting his head up to look down on her. Not that he needed to, of course. 

"And why not?" he asked, frowning. 

"I understand what you're going for, but I just don't really want to tattoo something you're going to regret."

Regret? This woman had no idea of who he was. And she didn't need to. She didn't need to assume things about him.

"I'm not going to regret it. I know what I want, and I'm a paying customer, am I not?"

"That's cute. How old are you, kid?"

"Old enough."

The tattoo artist raised both of her hands sarcastically, mouthing a 'haha'. 

"Very funny, did you bring in some sort of little permission slip saying that your mommy and daddy are allowing you to get a fucking tramp stamp?"

Wilbur scowled, hugging himself tigher. "I'm an adult." He muttered. 

"Yeah, yeah. You look like you turned 18 yesterday, at most."

The brunette shrugged, seeing as it was pretty much true. Though it had been a few months, not a day. "Can I just get my tattoo? Please?"

"I don't know how comfortable I am with giving you a tramp stamp."

"Because I might regret it? I know what I want."

"You think you know what you want. You're a dumb kid. It doesn't matter how book smart you are, or how street smart. Ultimately, you don't know what you're going to be feeling by the time you're my age. Tramp stamps are one of the most regretted tattoos, and the lower back is notorious for things best left in the past."

"Well, if I don't get the tattoo now, I guess I'll never know. It's not that much different from getting one when you're older. You still might regret it. Just because you're older doesn't mean you know what you want either."

"If you want to fight me on this so badly, just go to another tattoo artist."

Wilbur blinked prettily at her, "Oh, but I just love how you draw flowers. I don't think another tattoo artist would be able to do them just the way I want. I mean, you're literally the best tattoo artist for miles. Please just say yes." 

Though his voice dripped with dramatic praise, he meant every word. Her style was exactly right for what he wanted, and she seemed like she'd understand what he's trying to say with his choice. She also seemed like she'd be willing to figure out the best placement, both for the design and exactly how it'll look when it's on.

His eyes drifted to her wedding ring.

She hadn't seemed moved by his little praises, and he would hate to have to take more dramatic action. 

"Well, Thank you... for that. I'm still not sure I want to do it. I have a lot of passion for my art, and I would hate for it to get lasered off in a few decades. Or to be covered until then."

"It won't be covered, don't worry about that."

Before she could ask about whatever that meant, he gently grabbed her hand, pretending to just notice her ring.

"Oh- are you married?" he asked innocently.

She smiled for the first time in this interaction, Wilbur seeming to entirely disappear while she looked at her ring. Wilbur never understood how people just... got lost in things that represented their partners. It was just a ring. 

"Yeah," she finally responds, face soft. "We've been married for a few years."

"How sweet. How many?" Wilbur asked, feigning interest.

"Oh, just five. Our anniversary is soon, so very nearly six."

"Can you tell me about them?" 

"Well... I suppose. She's the sweetest woman alive. She actually runs the business next door, that's why you might see people coming in through that door."

Wilbur follows her line of sight to an unassuming door, one that presumably leads to the spa next door. 

"She loves painting nails. She lets her employees handle most of the manicures and pedicures, but she always insists on staying in the front to help with painting nails. Not even acrylics, just... regular nail polish. She's always enjoyed artsy things."

"Like you?" Wilbur laughs. 

She laughs as well, "Yeah, I suppose. I did her first tattoo, and she wanted to keep talking afterwards. She just had some kind of charm to her."

"Oh, wow..." Wilburs genuine smile faded slightly, though the woman was too busy thinking about her wife to notice. 

"Well, I guess I better leave. Don't want to waste anymore of your time, hm?"

The woman nodded. "Yeah, no. I'm still not giving you a tramp stamp. Sorry, kid. Maybe in ten years."

Wilbur laughed. 

He'd see about that. 

--

"God, you were fucking right! You do deserve a fucking tramp stamp, you fucking whore!" The tattoo artist wasn't happy with Wilbur's little... escapade. 

"I just wanted to know what it was like. Your wife loves you so strongly."

He can still hear the nail techs sobbing after he said that.

"Well, are you doing my tattoo now then?" He said smoothly, grinning sleazily at her. 

The pen in her hand nearly broke, but she took a deep breath in and out. Her expression changed to something pitying. Wilbur hated it.

"Fucking whatever."

He was pretty sure she double-charged him, and he wasn't sure if tattoos were supposed to hurt that much, but the tattoo was exactly what he wanted. 

Still, even as he walked out, he couldn't help but notice that she still had her pitying gaze. 

"I still think you'll regret it." He heard her mumble. 

Her ring had been gone, and he thought best not to ask about it. He knew what happened. 

He turned to look back at her, maybe even to say something teasing about her ex(?) wife. But the door was already shut tightly when he looked back. 

--

"So what made you get one?" he heard Quackity ask from behind him, fingers just barely tracing over the tattoo. 

"My boss, mostly."

"Oh, Wilbur... that's awful."

The way Quackity got sad at some of the things Wilbur said used to not make sense, but he's grown used to it over time. Sometimes, the things he got sad over still didn't make sense, but luckily this wasn't one of those things.

"It's whatever. Plus, I made sure I got one I wanted. It makes me feel more powerful than like a cheap whore usually. My only limit was that it had to look nice."

"Why does it make you feel powerful? What does it mean to you?"

Wilbur smiled at Quackitys genuine tone, he always had a way of coaxing things out of Wilbur. Wilbur made him step out of his comfort zone, and Quackity had him speak out of his. He never told anyone how much research went into his tramp stamp. People always thought it was some vaguely flowery, delicate, sexy thing. But it was really so much more. 

"I know it looks like it's just flowers, but look closely." If anyone could get anywhere close to the meaning just by looking at it, it was Quackity, at least in Wilbur's mind. 

"Is that barbed wire?? Dude, that's so fucking 90s."

Wilbur laughed, "Shut up! Think about the meaning. It means something."

"It's... sharp? And strong?" Quackity thought for another moment, "It's resilient?"

"Ding ding ding. I mean, all of those things really. Do you know what kind of flowers those are?"

"Uhhh... angelonia?" Quackity said, uncertain.

Wilbur shook his head, trying his best to look back at him without disturbing his view of his tramp stamp. 

"They're petunias. I don't even know what flower that is."

Quackity laughed, "Yeah, I don't know what petunias look like."

"Well get a good look at these, and then you'll know."

Quackity gently thwacked him in the arm, but resumed his tracing over the tramp stamp, with a little more weight than last time.

"What do they mean?" he heard the shorter ask. 

"Anger and resentment."

"Oh wow... I really wouldn't have expected that from such a pretty flower."

Quackity had no idea about the irony of his statement, and for now, just for now, Wilbur would like to keep it dramatic irony. 

"Most don't."

"Wait, then what about this? This isn't the same kind of plant, right?"

Wilbur flipped over to look Quackity in the eyes, smiling softly. "It's hemlock. It's poisonous. And beautiful, it is very beautiful."

For once in this interaction, Quackity met his gaze. "Is it meant to symbolize you?"

Wilbur propped his head up with his arm. "What do you think?"

Quackity blushed, looking away. "Maybe." Quackity looked back at him, "Would you ever want to get it removed?"

Wilbur hummed thoughtfully. "I don't know. It's from a pretty rough patch in my life, but I don't think I could just part with it. Maybe one day. I think it'll fade a lot on it's own by then, though." 

Quackity smiles at his answer, gently carding his fingers through Wilbur's hair. 

He used to not understand why he was so soft with Wilbur. He thought that he was looking down on him, somehow. Or maybe that Quackity thought he was weak or delicate for what he went through. 

He knows now, though, that it was just because he loved him.

-D (I got made fun of for my anon name by an irl because it's 'dumb' D: ITS JUST A LETTER?? So I'm taking name suggestions guys)

I know from when you sent this that you got it from my discord, and it's just been sitting in my inbox looking tasty for AGES until I could post chapter 16, so it wouldn't be a massive spoiler for everyone who didn't see that discussion

So I hope you know it has been TORTURE waiting to share this delicious piece of lowkey fucked up writing /lh

And have you considered that D could also stand for Dinosaur (the most common special interest for undiagnosed autistic children), Dynamite (like tntduo), Deoxyribonucleic (as in dna, the stuff life is made of), Delicious (like your writing), or Dun Dun DUNNN (the sound of drama)

#anons my beloved #violets are blue #derma anon #you'd better decide if you want this anon name fast bc mass editing tags is a mild annoyance I dont wanna

[miloscat]

[Review] Zeepkist (PC)

A cheerful Trackmania type, with no accelerator!

My latest co-op venture with my brother was to grab the recent kart racer Humble Bundle, and we started with this: a downhill soapbox racing game with a Trackmania-like structure. Zeepkist in fact means soapbox in Dutch, and by the way the game’s solo developer Yannic Geurts has made sure to include a fair amount of iconography from the Netherlands, from windmills to stroopwafel.

As a soapbox racing “simulator”, your only speed comes from gravity (and the occasional boost panel). The trick is managing your momentum to take the turns, loops, and zany obstacles without crashing your utterly fragile vehicle. My brother’s goal was always to try not to brake at all, which often backfired on him but he did frequently pull off some incredible feats! The track design has a lot of fun surprises and silly setpieces, and getting through them as intended was usually—but not always—a fun challenge.

In multiplayer the idea is you take repeated runs at a single track within a defined time period (eight minutes by default), competing with the others in your room for the best run. It’s a neat little system that sees you figuring out the course and gradually bettering your time alongside the ghosts of other players, and it’s addictive and fun to compete within these timed rounds. We played through the whole set of the creator’s levels, but there’s many more in the community workshop thanks to an in-built track editor.

Accompanying these wacky downhill jaunts is... nothing... just an eerie silence and the occasional sound effect. Yes, despite the nice title screen jingle, adding music that plays during levels is currently on the to-do list, for you see this is still an early access game. Normally I’d avoid a game in this phase of development/release like the plague, but hey, we played this and it wasn’t so bad. I chose to listen to the soundtrack from Burnout Revenge, one of the games of our youth, in the background, and then Youtube autoplayed a pretty sick Eurobeat mix afterwards which got me in an amped mood for racing.

I can’t not mention the art style too, which is charming as heck. Bright colours, rounded shapes, a general low-poly thrown-together feel. There’s fun neon-tinged and pastel themes in addition to more pastoral hues. And of course the ever-present Zeepkist signature smile which adorns the face of every floppy driver as well as the very sun in the sky. Car and driver customisation won’t change this goofy grin but it can give you a cool hat and, say, a froggy car.

It’s this style, along with the remarkably solid controls and driving mechanics, that make the game feel so competent and playable. With these things nailed down, hopefully Yannic can slap some music in there and it can become a more widely digestible experience. Oh, and maybe get some testing and refining done on some of the more frustrating tracks while you’re at it... well, I guess this is what the early access period is for?

#zeepkist #kart racer #steelpan interactive #indie #review #pc

[shmoofyscratches]

Watched a lot of tutorials and ended up kind of confusing myself when I started drawing again. But maybe that's also because I'm trying to challenge myself to draw gestures that aren't just fully front profile. It just feels like a bit of a discouraging drawing day, but growth isn't linear. Oh well.

I also did some searching around to find art I like and try to nail down what kind of style I'd like to work towards. This is my pinterest board.

A lot of anime and realistic-ish cartoons, but the real surprise was how drawn I am to color. As a colorblind person, this really surprised me. But it's kind of eye opening because it means that even if I don't see color like everyone else, I still have ones I like. And if I'm making art for myself, I'm just gonna use the ones I like. And that's really exciting.

Speaking of colorblindness, Jacob from Drawfee is partially colorblind, and he and Julia offer some advice for that in this video (52:00ish - 1:21:00ish).

#Youtube

[totodiletears]

It's funny though, dungeons are usually the main attraction for Zelda games to me, and I fully admit that Wind Waker's dungeons are kind of a let-down, and yet Wind Waker remains my favorite 3D Zelda lol. I think what's going on here is both "Wind Waker does everything else so well it makes up for it" and "Wind Waker does NOT do a bunch of things I hate that you see in other Zelda games."

Like, okay, the simple act of picking up Wind Waker is a pleasure. The atmosphere of this game is GREAT. It's got the best music in the series (which is DAMN HIGH PRAISE) and its art style is uniquely fun. You'd think a game where a lot of time is spent just sailing around an ocean is going to be kind of boring, but they nailed every detail so you spend your sailing time like you're on an adventure! To this day the Great Sea music just makes me grin. I loved slowly filling in the sea chart: it felt like I was an explorer, mapping the great unknown. And each little isle had something to it. It always felt like there was more to find. But underneath all that fun and charm, you've got a surprisingly deep story. The Wind Waker is effectively a post-apocalyptic story. But where "post-apocalyptic" tends to bring to mind destruction and despair, Wind Waker shows how even after everything you think of as your world (your country, your culture, everything you know), people will still survive. Oh, surely a Zelda story taking place at the time the flood came would look more classically post-apocalyptic, but after the country-ending disaster? The world, as it turns out, still goes on. And then you think about how Ganondorf and the King were portrayed as wrong for trying to bring back the old Hyrule, and you know what I'm just going to say it: Wind Waker did a way better job of a world-after-a-calamity story than Breath of the Wild did. And then the Hero woke up after a century and defeated Ganon and the kingdom was saved? Bleh, boring.

Also it got the obligatory crappy stealth section over and done with early on, which meant it wasn't as hard and annoying as stealth sections in later Zelda games because they aren't going to do something particularly hard that early in the story. And it didn't fill up a bunch of time with what I now call (thanks to ProZD) mandatory egg delivery. Twilight Princess and Skyward Sword love to force you to do some other random gameplay nonsense too many times, but once you're done with Wind Waker's Obligatory Crappy Stealth Section your required gameplay is basically just the gameplay you're here for. Exploring the sea, doing puzzles, clearing dungeons. None of that "time to do HORSEBACK COMBAT!" (I'm the outlier who hates horseback combat) or "time to wrestle with Gorons!" or "time to escort a wagon!" or "time for horseback combat again!" or "time to collect tadtones!" or "time for yet another Silent Realm, what did you think after three Silent Realms and a more classic stealth section you were finally done with stealth, haha too bad here's ONE MORE!"

Oh, and Wind Waker lets you have 99 bombs at once after upgrades. That's fuckin awesome.

[its-a-gemfact]

Drawing steven is therapeutic

#su #steven universe #suf #steven universe future #excuse me sir that's my emotional support character study #still trying to nail down an art style but oh well #my art

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.  

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.  

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

#lotr x reader #fellowship x reader #lord of the rings x reader #hobbit x reader #the hobbit x reader #Tolkien x reader #middle earth x reader #Legolas x reader #Aragorn x reader #Boromir x reader #frodo x reader #lord of the rings #lotrdaily #lotr movies #the hobbit #elves #hobbit #legolas #Legolas imagine #lotr imagine #lotr fanfic

[watchmegetobsessed]

YOUR BABY

A/N: it's just a little something, nothing hardcore like last time lol! it's def on the fluffy side.

PAIRING: husband!Harry X Reader

WORD COUNT: 1.3k

masterlist

“Harry? You alright in there?” you call out after him teasingly, even though he hasn’t been in the bathroom for that long.

“Perfectly fine!” you hear his voice from inside, shuffling around in the room as you sit on the couch, waiting for him patiently.

You haven’t done any dramatic outfit reveals lately, since his fits for the shows were almost the same just in different colors, but H said tonight he is finally switching it up. So here you are, waiting for your husband to give you a runway walk in his Nashville night one outfit. You’ve been thinking about what it could be, theories varying from see-through lacy shirts to crop tops. Oh yeah, you would love to see him in a crop top, dressed like men in the nineties, that would be so hot, though not quite his style.

“You ready?” he asks from the other side of the door.

“Never been more ready!” you giggle, your legs bouncing excitedly when you see the doorknob turn.

“Here I come!” he announces and then walks out with his little funny walk, hands bent in the wrist like little girls do, a silly smile on his face as he approaches you.

And he looks fantastic. The powder colored sparkly suit is amazing, fits him so well, especially on his thighs. Goddamnit, you already want to get him out of it! You jump up from your seat, walking closer to him when he opens the jacket, revealing his shirtless torso, only his suspenders running across his chest in such a delicious way.

“Shut up!” you gasp, staring at him as if he was art, but in a way, he really is art to you. Reaching out your palms cup his stomach just above the waistline of his pants, the warmth of his body mixed with the hardness of his muscles is the sweetest feeling under your touch. “Harry Styles, you are such a tease!” you giggle, eyes meeting his proud look. You both know the fans have been going crazy for another revealing outfit since the show in Vegas. This will absolutely love this one.

“You like it?” he grins at you, hands finding your waist as he pulls you closer, kissing your cheek.

“Well of course! You look fabulous!” you giggle, stealing a kiss from his lips quickly. Your hands slide to his naked back under the jacket and you can’t hold a satisfied hum back how perfect this fit is. The shirts tucked into his pants didn’t let you do this, but now you can feel his skin with no problem, whenever you want to. “This outfit might be my second favorite after the Vegas one,” you grin up at him, running your fingers up and down his back, your nails gently scratching him just the way he likes it when you’re in bed. He is incredibly cuddly, almost like a baby and loves to get you to scratch his back and head, whining whenever you stop.

“Mmm, you need to stop or the concert will start late,” he hums and you feel his muscles relax under your touch, his lips pressing to your forehead.

You stay like that, tangled together, just showering in the joy of the moment. You’ve been married for almost a year, but it still feels like you’re spending your honeymoon. It doesn’t matter where you are, Harry always makes you the happiest and you truly hope this feeling will never go away.

It’s a little hard to let go of him, but you wouldn’t keep him up from his concert. You watch him climb into his little box, steal another kiss before the lid is on and then take you usual spot backstage to watch the show. As usual, he is giving one thousand percent. The stage is on fire, the fans are going wild and you just love seeing him this happy, doing what he loves the most.

Sometime during the show a fan asks Harry to do her gender reveal. You instantly feel the excitement grow inside you as he takes the envelope and teases the crowd, reading what’s written in it. You don’t even realize but you’re holding your breath, eyes glued to your husband on the stage, talking about someone else’s baby and it got you wondering…

The past few months you’ve been continuously thinking about finally trying for a baby. Now feels like a good time, everything is going well in your life, you’re finally married with Harry, something you really wanted to happen before getting pregnant and tour would be over by the time you’d reach the second trimester. That is if you succeed instantly, but you know it might take a few months.

“A little baby girl!” Harry announces on the stage, the crowd erupting in screams as he falls to his knees celebrating the joy of a soon to be mother.

You want him to talk about your baby. To reveal your baby’s gender, to be this excited about your baby. You want to have a baby with him. Period.

As the show carries on you think about bringing it up to him, no use in delaying it. You can talk about anything with him, don’t have to stress about what he might say.

When Harry leaves the stage ending the concert, you’re waiting for him near the curtains, his eyes finding you right away, running up to you like an energetic little boy.

“You were so good!” you laugh when he picks you up, twirling you around, his lips peppering kisses into the crook of your neck.

“Let’s go,” he breathes out, pulling you after him into the dressing room.

He doesn’t mess around too long, you’re out the door in about thirty minutes, heading back to the hotel. Harry’s hand never leaves you, he is either holding your hand or squeezing your thigh, waist, he is obviously in a good mindset, maybe even feeling sentimental a little. It’s the perfect opportunity to bring up the baby talk.

When you’re finally back in your room, hidden away from everyone and everything, you’re just about to bring it up, but he beats you.

“Did you see the gender reveal?” he asks with bright eyes as he moves around the room, plugging his charger into his phone, setting it down to his night stand.

“Yeah. A little girl!” you chuckle. This could be a great moment to tell him what you’ve been thinking about, but you notice that he has something else to say, so you wait for him patiently.

He grabs your hand and pulls you until you both are sitting on the edge of the bed. Licking his lips he takes a deep breath before looking into your eyes and you’re holding your breath again, just like earlier.

“Y/N, I’ve been thinking a lot lately. And just know that if you want to wait longer it’s totally fine, I just wanted to put it out there. This gender reveal just made me so emotional and… and I think this might be a good time to start it… but if—“

“Harry, I want to try for a baby,” you blurt out, cutting his rambling off. His mouth hangs open as he stares back at you, slowly, you see his eyes watering and before you could get out another word, he throws himself at you, hugging you so tight he almost crushes you.

You both start laughing, tears are flowing and you end up lying on the bed, tangled together, just enjoying this moment when you decided to start a family. Though you already think of him as your family.

“So we’re gonna have a baby?” he whispers after long minutes of just lying in each other’s arms, staring at one another with stupidly wide grins on your face.

“Well, we gotta make one first,” you giggle and Harry kisses your face all over in excitement.

“Oh, I’m good at that. Practiced a lot,” he cockily answers, making you laugh.

“Did you?”

“Mhm, want me to show it to you?” his smirk grows as he rolls on top of you, his hips settling between your legs.

“Wouldn’t pass on the chance,” you breathe out, pulling him down to kiss you finally.

Thank you for reading! Please like/reblog if you enjoyed!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles au #harry styles fluff #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb

[penguinlop]

Oh my goodness I loved the sequel to “Tiny Hands, Tiny Feet”!!🥺😭💕 I’ve been thinking about how non-human characters like Albedo or Scaramouche would handle an S/O who wants kids, and you nailed it perfectly! And ugh, I’m in love with your writing style too btw *chefs kiss*. Please drink lots of water and have a lovely rest of your day :))

You're such a sweetheart!! Thank you! I love your writing as well!

Also, same!! It's intriguing to think about how they may be domestically when their creators (Gold and Ei) had no thought of that in mind, most likely. Now you got my brain thinking about all of this haha

warnings: fertility issues, spoilers for their lore

For Albedo, I wanted to showcase in my story how he knows his limits and wants the reader to be aware of his fertility issues. He doesn't want his s/o to feel cheated because he knows he was made to be a pivotal being for Gold's plans, not really made to be a father. If his s/o does stay with him and they adopt, as they do in my story, I think it would be cute to see how Albedo will interact with his adopted child! I think his experimental side may want to test out some of his hypotheses. But I can see it being very limited as he would never want to harm his baby in any shape or form. It will be interesting if he passes on his love for alchemy to his child. He's a product of it, after all. But still, he knows how much suffering can be caused by it, especially with the form he is most knowledgeable in, the Art of Khemia. He can't help but wonder if this is what Gold would've wanted in regards to the daunting mission she left him with. The task of finding the truth and meaning of Teyvat. Albedo wasn't created to be a very sentimental being, but I think he might say imperfection and love is the key to life.

On the other hand, I see Scaramouche not really caring about whether he is capable of having a child or not. Having a baby isn't in his goals as a Harbinger. Like the name he chose for himself, Kunikuzushi, he wants to be the destroyer of nations, not to settle down and be a doting dad. If his s/o really, really wants a baby, he may reluctantly agree, though put up a defensive front. He was made with the sole purpose of being a host for Ei's gnosis. That emptiness will never go away unless he obtains what he was designed to hold, but even then, as we know, a gnosis is connected to Celestia, the place most of the archons are trying to avoid. Scaramouche's origins aren't that pretty; it may not end as happily as Albedo's tale did. As a mere prototype puppet cast aside by his own mother, I can see the Balladeer doing the same with his adopted child if he is not careful. However, if all goes well, I can see him being fiercely protective and secretly loving his little found family.

Scaramouche to his kid and s/o: I hate you two with a burning passion

Also him: I will destroy this world ten times over for you two

LOL definitely a lot of trauma to unpack with both of them

Thanks for the message again! It was so nice to see! ༼つ ் ▽ ் ༽つ ♡

#genshin impact #albedo x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader