#tattered weave hc

[honeykaes]

look at me, look at me, you lookin'?

bedroom eyes hc’s feat. kaveh, kazuha,  itto, scaramouche

warning: smut, 18+ content, minors do not interact, afab!reader with no set pronouns, cunniligus (kaveh), tongue fucking (kaveh), fingering (kazuha), masturbation (kazuha), riding (itto), piercing (itto), implied size kink (itto), impact play (itto), creampie (itto), slight degradgtion (scara), pussyjob (scara), thighjob (scara), unedited.

Kaveh loved to see you in the zone working, seemingly drowning out the world around you to focus. He can’t help leaning against the doorframe to your office, arms crossed and admiring you from afar.

Do you know you bite your lip when your focused? Kaveh does. He sees your bottom lip being slightly gnawed on by your teeth. Did you realize you part your lips to bite down on the end of a pen you were writing notes on to use both hands to find whatever page you needed. 

His innocent admiration soon darkened, noticing the smudge of your chapstick or lip gloss smeared across the writing utensil seemingly mocking him in the glint of the light—cock beginning to stir in his pants. As you sigh and turn around, jolting momentarily as his undetected presence startled you, you noticed that more serious glint in his usually bright and friendly scarlet eyes.

“Eshgham…! You’ve been working so long and ignoring me. I think a proper break is in order,” he mused, walking towards you.

He twirled your swivel chair so it was facing in front of him, dropping down to his knees as his large sun-kissed hands rested on your thighs and gave it a squeeze. His hands reached up, hooking themselves under the waistband of your pants and snapping the button undone before tugging your pants down until they pooled at your ankles.

His hands found themselves on your knees pushing them outwards to spread your legs to reveal your clothed cunt. A grin fell to his face— flashing you a pretty smile—he pressed his face into your clothed entrance, letting a lovesick sigh out in delight before placing a kiss on the slit. The band of your underwear soon joined your pants at your feet.

Kaveh thumbs pushed on your soft, puffy folds spreading them to see your pulsating entrance. His lips connected with your clit, sucking on the nub as he felt your hands begin to travel and weave itself through his soft hair. He pressed his face furthered in your crotch, lapping out the slick beginning to drool out of you and slurping it as loud as he could with his own soft moans.

He could feel your legs shivering and hips grinding on his face as your pitch began to rise. He slightly shifted his face down, nudging his nose towards your greedy clit as his tongue dipped out and sank into your entrance. His tongue thrust and swirled itself around your walls before he felt your walls beginning to spasm as you finally reached your high.

 Kaveh leaned up,, lovesick grin and darkened eyes still on his expression, as he lapped his bottom lip that still glistened in your arousal.

“Oh, what you do to me…”

Kazuha never imagined traveling with you across the various lands of Teyvat would never be a con. Sure, there was danger he worried you two would find yourself  and forging for the land when the two of you had reached civilization for days—but those things he was used to by himself. What he wasn’t used to is your earthly form having such an effect on him. 

Autumn-tinted eyes wandered across your body seeing parts of your clothes tattered and ripped giving him glimpses of your subtle skin underneath. It was an accident as you decided to walk through foliage, not noticing the branches of the bushed pulling and tearing parts of your attire. As Kazuha felt his bulge pressed against his pants, he couldn’t stop himself from letting out a soft moan, eye furrowed at his disappointment of lust beginning to cloud his head.

You turned around surprised at the noise, noticing Kazuha’s usually pale cheeks tinted rosy hue, and his eyes shifted away from you. You asked if he was alright only for his eyes to shift towards you once more-half-lidded and an unusual frown pulling on his lips.

“...Let’s stop here for now. Since it’s sunset, we should probably rest and set up for the night. There’s a stream here we can fish at for dinner and breakfast too,” he murmured. 

Setting up camp, all Kazuha could think about is you under him. He wanted to see your nude form writhing in pleasure with his name on your lips—skin highlighted in the golden rays of dusk. It’s as if he could feel your walls saving down on his fingers, plunging themselves deeper as you cling tighter to him. His lips would nibble along your neck, cooing and whispering deep in your ear how ethereal you were to him, finally seeing you go over the edge, moans drowned out by Kazuha’s lips on your own.

Kazuha silently cursed to himself getting up from the tent and excusing himself before he headed towards the cool waterfall a small distance away. Stripping the layers of clothing, his cock sprung up, slapping against his abdomen, twitching and desperate for touch. He gripped his length in a firm grasp tugging his cock as moans soon dripped from his lips. 

His hips began to desperately meet his pace of his jerking, throwing his head back in pleasure before sucking a breath in to not be too loud. Your name escaped him as he finally came, ropes of cum shooting out and marking the ground in shame.

His chest heaved, letting out a soft sigh and moving up once he finally recovered from his high, letting the cool water ease his body and closing his eyes.

Kazuha wonders just what you would think if you knew how desperate he was for you.

Itto loved wrestling with you. It was so cute; that determined expression on your face to finally get the oni to submit to you in strength. Although it was tempting to see you flash your victorious smile as opposed to your frustrated pout when you lost, his pride would never allow himself to let you win. He was a bit childish, but at least he’d accept any challenge you threw at him.

So here the two of you were, in bed, hands locked with one another with that desperate glint in your eyes to claim your victory. As you were on top of him, he could see your will beginning to crumble as he let out a boisterous laugh, only to roll your eyes. It seemed that action lit a match from under you as you soon put your full weight on Itto’s crotch surprising the oni. 

In a shocked grasp, Itto’s face flushed red feeling you rock your hips still focused on wrestling. His grip on you lightened as you began to grin, pressing yourself further before you heard Itto let out a deep  moan. You could feel something hard beginning to develop, grazing your clothed crotch. He let his hand go, drifting them to the globes of your ass giving the plush flesh a tight squeeze.

“I give up! I give up! You win!” he stammered out, clicking his tongue and narrowing his eyes. “Man…you play dirty!”

What would’ve been an innocent night, turned sinful very quickly after tha with his cock pointed high and lined up against your entrance on top of him. You slowly sank down, seething at the full pain rippling through you despite the copious amounts of lube slathered on your cunt and Itto’s cock.

As he finally bottomed out, you could barely moan out before having his length begin to drill itself inside of you. Your body jiggled from the power of his thrust with Itto groaning out and clenching his jaw tight. You let your upper body lay across his large chest feeling his hand squeeze tighter on your ass as he pounded inside of you.

You could feel his cool Prince Albert’s grazing the honeypot inside of you as you quickly found yourself becoming undone just with his purely length, girth and fervor of his thrusts. As Itto’s hips stifled, thicks globs of his cum shot deep inside your cunt, already beginning to dribble out with Itto’s cock still inside of you.

With a sigh, Itto finally slid out, giving your ass a large smack, before flashing you a confident smirk—a river of his cum slowly spilling out of you.

“I’ll let you win  wrestling anytime you want if I get to have you like this afterward,” he chuckled.

You and Scaramouche had a small habit of arguing. Not all your arguments were heated and passionate. Somewhere small and mundane. Others were joined with smiles and teasing eyerolls. He never liked when you two fought for real.

He also loved seeing you particularly riled up when it came to bedroom activities. He loved seeing the frustrated glint in your eye as he demanded you do something, eager and upset your climax was delayed. It makes it feel in control and the face you give him? It’s like a drug that always seemed to darked his expression.

You grunted as Scaramouche had you pin to a wall, lips tracing themselves along your collarbone admiring the marks he just made. Your underwear was already down to your knees along with his pants. You pound your fist on the wall, trying to look behind your shoulders and glare at him.

“Kuni, stop playing games! Please! I’m pent up, I’m wet. And I only got 30 minutes before I leave for work!” you grunted. Scaramouche rolled his eyes pitching your clit with his fingers hearing you yelp in response.

“Like I give a fuck…just for that, you can wait until you get home to get your fill then; how about that?” Scaramouche murmured, nipping at your neck. Just before your sharp tongue sliced out another insult at him, his fingers plunged themselves into your mouth, gagging you, feeling your vibrations of whatever you were trying to say.

He pressed your soft thighs together, sinking his cock between them and the puffy folds of your pussy trying to resist the urge to moan as he dug his teeth in his bottom lip.

He rutted himself between your thighs, coating his cock with the slick beginning to drool out of you. He rested his head against the back of your shoulder, increasing his pace, as he felt you squeeze your thighs even tighter with his cock sandwich between. 

Sucking in a tight breath, Scaramouche split himself across your thighs, entrance and the wall—hips stuttering as he let out a whine. 

With his heaving chest, he hummed admiring the mess he just made before slapping your aching clit and walking off. He could see you shifting yourself trying to ease the throbbing and desperate attention you wanted for your clit. At least he had something to look forward to later.

“Have fun being pent-up at your shitty job!~” he teased.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #kaveh x reader #kaveh smut #itto x reader #itto smut #kazuha x reader #kazuha smut #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche smut

[aces-and-angels]

An It Lives Within Holiday Special: Lincoln Edition 🎁

Title: Handmade 

A/N: Slowly, but surely, we’re keeping the ball rolling lol. This one was inspired by a couple of HC’s I made earlier. Enjoy 🖤🖤🖤 (LPS and @linkysmommy here’s my overdue olive branch lmaoo)

Pairing: Lincoln x MC (M!Rowan)

Summary: A bonus scene for ILW by @itlivesproject; Rowan decides to make something for Lincoln. 

Warnings: minor reference to blood, language, sex

nsfw below, minors dni 

---

“Fuck,” Rowan hissed out in pain. A small pool of blood began to well up where he pricked himself with the needle. Again. Over the past three hours, he injured himself at least once with every tool in front of him; some minor burns from a glue gun, a stinging cut from a utility knife, and now this.

“Maybe I should-” 

“No, Connor,” he huffed, cutting him off. “ I want to do this myself.”

“I understand that, but you’re running out of fingers to cut,” he gestured towards his hands. Rowan glanced down, taking note of the several bandages that covered his skin.  

“I’m almost done,” he mumbled sheepishly, picking up the needle once more to continue to sew. 

“You’re really not, though. You still have to stitch the other side.”

“Oh my God,” he groaned, throwing the piece of leather onto the table. “Why is this so hard?!” 

“You’re a beginner and you chose one of the hardest templates from my shop.” 

Rowan rolled his eyes at him. “That was a rhetorical question, jackass.”

“Sorry,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. His eyes flicked over to the side table. “Hand me that scrap leather over there.”

“I already told you-” 

“I’m not making it for you,” Connor interrupted, “but I can’t keep watching you hurt yourself. I’m gonna show you a better a technique.” He settled into the chair next to him, grabbing his tool kit from the shelf above. “First, let’s take care of that cut. I can’t have you bleeding all over my supplies.”

“Your concern is touching,” Rowan deadpanned, holding out his finger so Connor could apply another band-aid. 

---   

After two botched attempts and one long walk around the cabin to calm himself down, Rowan figured out how to make a wallet. The sky had turned dark by the time he set down his tools. Holding the finished product in his hands, he admired his work. The dye he had applied left a light brown stain to the leather, its color warm with undertones of red. His finger ran along the smooth edges, checking for any bumps he needed to sand down. Finding none, he flipped it over. His eyes scanned the small mark he carved out in the lower right corner. L.M. His thumb stroked along the hollow groove of the letters. “He’s going to love it,” Connor clapped him on the back. 

“You think so?” 

“No doubt. This design is really popular with my customers,” he encouraged further. Rowan bit back a smile. While out on one of their dates, he had noticed how worn out his wallet was. The material was tattered, and the clasp was dangerously close to falling off completely. He originally planned on buying one online for him. Then, he remembered his roommate owned an art store. 

“Thanks again, Connor. I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

“I know,” he smirked. His boisterous laugh filled the room as Rowan shoved him. “It’s no trouble, really. I love this kind of stuff. When are you going to give it to him?” 

“We’re going to a concert next week, so probably then.”

---

One week later, Lincoln picked him up from the cabin. Together, they rode on his motorcycle to a concert venue just outside Westchester. The drive was quiet, aside from the steady thrum of the engine. Rowan’s arms were wrapped around Lincoln’s waist, his chest flushed against his back. Normally, he loved their rides; the gust of wind that hit his face, the faint, earthy scent of Lincoln’s skin, the rush of adrenaline that flooded his veins as they weaved through traffic. 

But he couldn’t enjoy any of that. Not while he was constantly imagining his gift falling onto the road. There was no way for him to physically check his pockets, so he settled for awkwardly clamping his elbows to his sides.

Once they hit a red light, Rowan’s hand flew to his waist. Relief washed through him as he felt the shape of the wallet over his jeans. “Am I driving too fast?” Lincoln asked over his shoulder.

"No, why?”

“You seem jumpy.”

“I-I’m fine,” he answered shakily. 

“You sure? I can slow down,” he offered, taking one hand off the handle to squeeze his. Lincoln’s thumb ran over his knuckles. The familiar roughness of his skin settled Rowan’s nerves. He exhaled, releasing the breath he was holding. 

“I’m sure.” He squeezed his hand back. That seemed to be enough to ease Lincoln’s worry. 

“Alright. Just let me know if that changes.” 

“Aw, look who cares about me,” he teased, a smirk tugging on his lip. 

“Shut up.” Chuckling, Lincoln playfully swatted his arm. The cars ahead of them slowly started to move as the light switched to green. Rowan quickly tucked the wallet further into his pocket before adjusting his hold on Lincoln’s waist. 

It only took three more stops for them to reach their destination. Rowan got a clear view of the venue as they turned into the parking lot. In the middle of a grassy field was a stage underneath a large, white tent. Their decision to leave early had paid off. The crowd was sparse, leaving them plenty of room to find a spot near the front. Hand in hand, they walked into the field, the weight of Lincoln’s gift hitting his thigh with each step. His free hand anxiously twitched toward his pocket. He wondered how Lincoln would react. Would he like the color? Was it weird to give him something like this? 

“Do you want anything?” Lincoln’s voice snapped him out of his trance. 

“Huh?” He’d been so lost in thought that he didn’t realize that they’d reached the front of the barricade. 

Lincoln nodded at a smaller tent to their left. “They’re selling drinks over there. Want one?” 

“Oh, uh- sure. Maybe in a bit,” he replied, chewing on his lip. It was now or never. “There’s something I need to do first.” Confusion marked Lincoln’s features, his brow furrowing as Rowan pulled his hand away.

“Is something wrong?”

“No!” he blurted out. “I just- I have this thing...”

Lincoln’s brows furrowed even more. “A thing? Did you forget to do something?”

“Ugh, no- that didn’t come out right,” he grumbled. Taking a quick breath, he tried again. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?” 

“Close your eyes,” he instructed. Obediently, Lincoln’s eyes slipped shut. Without his gaze on him, Rowan pulled the wallet out of his pocket. He ran his thumb along the carved L.M. once. Then twice. A seed of doubt crept back into his mind. Yesterday’s pride morphed into insecurity over his work. I should’ve just bought one online. It would’ve been nicer. Who makes a wallet for someone?? He’s gonna think I’m-

"Uh- Ro? How long am I supposed to keep my eyes shut?” 

“Sorry, um, keep them closed for a bit more. A-and hold your hand out for me.”

“You’re not pranking me, right?” 

“No pranks, I swear. Just give me your hand.” 

“Alright, I’m trusting you,” he sighed, extending his arm out. “But if it’s something gross, I will not hesitate to throw it at you.” 

Rowan let out a small laugh at his threat, feeling some of the tension leave his body. “Good thing I have fast reflexes,” he quipped back.

“Rowan.”

“I’m kidding,” he reassured. Despite their friendly banter, there was still a tremble in Rowan’s hand. His fingers gripped the wallet tightly, afraid of completing the exchange. He closed his own eyes, attempting to steel his nerves. Connor’s words rang through his head. “He’s going to love it.” 

He’s going to love it, Rowan repeated to himself. Before he could convince himself otherwise, he loosened his grip, letting the wallet fall out of his grasp. 

“Oh,” Lincoln gasped, his eyes snapping open the instant the leather touched his skin. Rowan watched him with bated breath, trying to gauge his reaction. The murmurs of the crowd around them faded, replaced by the deafening pound of his heart. Lincoln stood motionless, his mouth slightly agape as he stared down at his gift. 

Why isn’t he saying anything? Rowan chewed on his bottom lip, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. The silence between them was unbearable. Tentatively, Lincoln put his other hand over the wallet, covering it completely. Great. He hates it so much he doesn’t even want to look at it. I knew it. I should’ve just gotten the one-

“You... you made this?” Lincoln breathed out.

Rowan’s face burned from embarrassment. “Was it that obvious?” His shame prevented him for picking up on his boyfriend’s tone. Instead, he focused on counting the blades of grass around his feet. “I-it was a stupid idea,” he mumbled, unable to look at him. His fingers nervously twisted his sleeve as he continued to speak. “I just... yours looked so tattered- and Connor had extra leather, s-so I thought-” Lincoln cut off his ramblings, lifting his chin back up to his face. Before he could react, Lincoln kissed him hard. 

His shoulders tensed as his mouth pressed against his. A moment passed, then he was kissing him back with fervor. A low groan rattled in Rowan’s throat as Lincoln’s fingers tangled through his hair. His own hands reached up to clutch the collar of his shirt. Their lips greedily chased each other, becoming more and more heated as they moved as one. It was the type of kiss that would’ve been more appropriate behind closed doors. But Rowan’s need for decorum disappeared in a mesh of teeth and tongue. Only when his lungs were desperate for air did they pull apart, their chests heaving. “So -hah- does this mean you like it?” 

“I love it,” he rasped, the effect of their kiss still evident in his voice. Rowan’s eyes fluttered open, taking in the flush on Lincoln’s cheeks and his swollen lips. His breath hitched at the loving gaze his boyfriend directed at him. Lincoln’s fingers continued to lazily play with the hairs at the nape of his neck. “You did all this for me?” 

“There’s actually more,” Rowan hinted, pulling himself out of his hold. He bit back a laugh as Lincoln eagerly flipped the wallet open. His features softened immediately when he saw what was inside.

“It’s us,” he awed. 

“I found that disposable camera you were looking for and developed the film,” he explained softly. “That one was my favorite.”

“I can see why,” he murmured. There was something reverent about the way Lincoln’s fingers traced along his present. Tender, even. It was almost like he couldn’t stop. Rowan found it all endearing, even if he couldn’t figure out why Lincoln seemed so entranced. Maybe he likes the texture, he guessed. Whatever daze he was in lifted, at least long enough for Lincoln to transfer the contents of his old wallet to his new one. “I won’t be needing this anymore,” he announced cheerily, throwing his old wallet in the trash.

“I can’t believe you used that thing for so long.” 

“I would’ve gotten a new one eventually. My incredibly thoughtful boyfriend just beat me to it,” he praised, leaning in to peck his cheek. 

“Sounds like a great guy,” he smirked.

“Oh, he is. That, and so much more.” His sincerity left Rowan flustered. The tips of his ears felt hot. 

“I’ll take that drink now,” he cleared his throat. 

“Sure thing, babe,” Lincoln chuckled, grabbing his hand to walk over to the concession stand.

---

The rest of the concert was a blur. Rowan barely paid attention to the performers on stage, distracted by how openly affectionate Lincoln had gotten. He clung to him throughout the whole set, his arms firmly wrapped around his chest. From the way he nuzzled into the crook of his neck, Rowan wasn’t sure if he actually watched any of the show. But his sweet, gentle kisses felt too good for him to care. The music came second to the blissful hums Lincoln made against his skin. 

His amorous mood lasted well into the night (not that Rowan was complaining). He all but begged him to stay over, claiming that he ‘accidentally’ missed the turn for Connor’s cabin. They fell onto the bed, leaving a pile of clothes forgotten on the floor. Lincoln’s fingers intertwined with his; his breath was hot and heavy against his ear. “Let me take care of you tonight.” Rowan shuddered, his skin tingling wherever Lincoln’s hands roamed, his mouth trailing right behind it. The ache between his legs grew the longer he teased him.

“Lincoln... please-” 

“Tell me what you want.” 

“You,” he panted, rolling his hips against his thigh. “I need you. Now.”

“I’m all yours, love.” Rowan lost himself in the euphoric feeling of their limbs tangling together. Their shared pleasure echoed throughout the room. Quiet moans gradually transformed into loud, strangled cries. Every inch of their bodies was intimately pressed against each other. It was never enough and too much all at once. Rowan’s nails dug into his back, his muscles tensing as Lincoln pounded into that spot inside him over and over. The steady thump of the headboard hitting the wall lost its rhythm as their movements turned frantic.  “Oh shit- baby, I- I’m- I’m gonna-” 

“Me too,” Lincoln choked out, his head dropping to his shoulder. His teeth sunk into his flesh. The sharp pain sent Rowan tumbling over the edge. Writhing beneath him, he gripped the sheets tightly as he continued to fuck him through his orgasm. “Give it to me, baby,” he groaned, wrapping his legs tighter around his waist. “Make me yours.” With that, his lover came with a shattered gasp.

“Oh- Rowan!”

---

The following morning, they went to a nearby coffee shop. As Lincoln ordered their drinks, Rowan observed the soft smile that appeared on his face when he pulled out his new wallet. The way his hand lingered in his pocket for longer than necessary as he tucked it back in also didn’t go unnoticed. His actions puzzled him. Did he really like the material that much? He recalled how instantaneous his reaction was when he first received it, which raised another thought in his mind. “Babe, I have a question.”

“Shoot.” Lincoln set down his mug, giving him his full attention.

“Yesterday, when I gave you your present... How’d you know that I made it?”

A knowing grin spread on his lips, which he hid as he lifted his mug back up to his mouth. “Lucky guess,” he answered simply. Rowan knew him well enough to recognize that he wasn’t telling him the whole truth. But he decided to let it go for now. 

“Alright, just wondering.” 

---

Lincoln McQuoid: “Basically, I can sense things that have been touched by the power. Monsters, artifacts, people...  I can see impressions and feel emotions, but the more disconnected from the Power something is and the more disconnected emotionally I am from it, the vaguer the impressions will be.”

#playchoices #choices #lincoln mcquoid #lincoln x mc #ilw #ilw fic #it lives within #it lives in the woods #it lives beneath #connor green #ilb #ilitw #my fic #the fluff fic that is owed #and deserved #lps- here is your olive branch lmaoo #it lives series #it lives project #it lives anthology #n*fw #nsft

[twothpaste]

Hiiii Clark I don’t know if you do or if you’re still taking these but I’d be interested to hear any thoughts or hcs you had about Leder :0

oh man, oh man. being asked about leder by the guy who did The Best (Only?) Written Leder Ever??? half the stuff sloshing around in my brain about this guy was written by you!! i'll bow my head gently and share what i've got, though.

i first played mother 3 a decade ago. to this day, The Leder Scene still gives me chills. i know some players aren't fond of the way the game delivers its big exposition dump, and i can't blame 'em one bit. but for me personally, it's an ethereal moment in time. something about the way the scene is set, the music, the red lighting, how solemn and straightforward it is. the way you first see leder's chained up legs, before climbing upstairs to hear him speak for the first time, and weave the whole story back together. lucas hearing it from a quiet old friend, of all people. the way he pauses every few lines to to ask if lucas understands, and kiddo has to politely nod along like "yep, y'can keep going," as leder painstakingly re-arranges his entire reality. the dawning sense of pity for this humble unsung martyr, and his broken community, and the world at large. agh. there's just nothing quite like it.

my favorite detail, one i latch onto, is that he's surrounded by books. on a literal level, i figure, aw, at least he had somethin' to read, all that time he spent locked up. symbolically, though? they must represent history, yeah? the one and only guy who remembers, imprisoned with volumes of forbidden knowledge. were these his own books? brought from the old world, and secretly stashed away somewhere? were they brought from different eras through porky's phase distorter? i feel like the former's more sentimental, but either works. got a postgame headcanon that leder founds a library in tazmily. books become a precious commodity in the postgame world. not a lot of written word remains from back before everything went to hell. they take whatever they can find and salvage, be it history or science textbooks or novels or picture books. their community'd be wise to cherish, preserve, and share this stuff, instead of locking it away. the idea of a valuable lesson learned. leder naturally being the one to foster a space where history can finally breathe.

i like to think he and lucas could become close friends. kid lucas would've always taken the time to greet leder, and leder would've always answered with a smile. postgame, my lucas develops a fervent interest in history, and stories about his community. i think he'd ache for that context. kid's got a sense of duty, too, not to repeat the same mistakes. leder'd be relieved to finally get everything off his chest. and, seeing the egg as a fatal mis-step, he'd be eager to amend tazmily's greatest mistake. giving future generations the opportunity to learn from their past. besides, leder n' lucas are both mild-mannered folks with a lot on their minds. i imagine the two of 'em could spend hours talking, or listening. maybe share some green tea. lucas goes exploring in the ruins of the world, and brings back tattered volumes for leder's library. they talk about novels they've read, and the good ol' days (with bittersweet retrospect), and hinawa.

on account of his absurd height, leder's probably got some sort of fantastical bone condition that makes it difficult to travel or get around much. on account of his age and world-weariness, maybe he's just fine with that. i imagine he's got a quiet, brittle, crackly voice, and you kinda have to listen extra close to make out every word. some of his neighbors are sheepish to get to know him again. but once their memories start returning, they recall him as a near n' dear pillar of their apocalyptic escapades. they eventually come bearing apologies, somber gratitude, and fond recollections. your premise of leder working as a sort of guidance counselor for recovering amnesiacs is brilliant - and the thought of him bearing that burden alone makes my heart ache. that he'd give himself up for so long, on behalf of everyone else, then go right ahead and selflessly do it all over again?? it's so heavy, but so real. i can definitely picture him falling back into old resolute habits, forgetting he's a deeply wounded person who needs time and care to recover too. maybe his fellow steadfast souls, like lucas' family, duster, my favorite guy bronson perhaps, could eventually lend him some shoulders to lean on.

#ask tag #this got longer than expected but since it's leder we're talkin' about i think that's only fitting

[unusualneons]

Fray ⇨ art by Tattered Weave team, flags: x , x , x , x

do not use these icons if you fit anything on the banner & no claiming them as your own

#mogai icons #mogai icon #icon set #icons #pride #mogai #promogai #tattered weave #fray #fray tattered weave #tattered weave hc #headcanon #tattered weave headcanon #pride headcanon #slushgender #wispvir #gay #soft goth gay #regregender #adorable posts

[galaxygermdraws]

So I wrote this little thing because me and @micer2012 have been talkin Wormman angst since yesterday when we first talked to each other,,,,yeah this is angsty :D

One would be lucky to find any life inside the HC-5 world. Ever since the Hermits departed, it has been deserted… at least, that is what all the Hermits thought... All but one. Deep in the abandoned greenery still sleeps a single soul, one long forgotten and hurt by the former residents of this world.

A tattered yellow cape, one custom made by a friend, is one of the only things left visible on his abandoned figure. His sweater ripped and torn , his hair having grown much longer than he would have liked.

His chest barely rises as he lies still. You would think he’s dead if you were to come across him in this state. There is no movement to see from afar. There is no life from afar. Just a lifeless body of someone that was seen as nothing more than a mere accessory.

There are small black tendrils covering his body, like an infection that manifests in a gooey tar like substance. It grows slowly, creeping up his skin, weaving in and out of his sweater. You wouldn’t know he was wearing cream yellow gloves if you saw him now.

The most notable detail of the discarded body, however, is his eyes. They are closed almost completely, but what can be seen of them is a stark green. It’s glowing, unlike anything natural. It contrasts the darkness of the jungle, the shadows of the trees and their canopy as they overtake everything.

Bright lights in a sea of lonely darkness… inescapable darkness. Where nobody would ever find him.

Such is the fate of one Wormman… left behind after losing himself trying to save someone he loved unconditionally. A part of something he can never escape, too far gone to be rescued… ironic, isn’t it? A hero who needs saving, yet, can never be saved.

(Reblogs w tags n comments are appreciated n preferred especially w my writing bc i never post writing)

#germwrites #germ writes #hermitcraft #hermitblr #wormman #jeff the minion #yes thats what this is about bc ofc it is #thanks della u broke me u broke me so hard my hcs actuallY CHANGED #tw derealization #probably #tw death #hes not dead but he may as well be #i dont want him to be dead but like #hes suffering #tw abandonment #not art #ask to tag

[awellboiledicicle]

Things Echo doesnt know about that will bother the twins:

Roads

Rails

Trains

Most vehicles

Cake

Bread

Hospitals

Things the twins dont know about that will bother Echo:

Shanties

Weaving

How to stand on a ship

Hunting/fishing

How to swim in the ocean

How sharp coral is

Seasnakes

Jellyfish

Farming

How to milk/sheer animals

Most crafting

All these mystify each other and I'm delighted. Bc Ingo can make a lot of shit, and mend clothing-- his coat was tattered bc he couldnt match fabric-- but not out of plastic that's been floating in the ocean for a few decades. Or a ripped up car door. Or palm leaves and coconut fiber. And hes used to foraging, but not to doing so on small islands while Echo reef dives for clay and metal.

Emmet feels like hes the only one who is not at least a little prepared. That said I hc that hes a very fast learner, and the twins internal time tables are very exact-- so he gets very good at going around and checking things first thing. Timing how long Echos been down so the alarm can be raised if it's too long.

#seafaring au

[dragon-hall]

For @majinxkayleigh ! I’m really sorry it took me this long to make this! Figures a mash-up would be best to tackle all of the wonderful HCs you suggested <3

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

Mikhail & Yuliy + Brothers after the canon (divergent)

★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

A sharp swing of a blade cuts through the quietness of the city streets followed by the fast rotation of a staff. It met a solid strike with another metal and progressed to a symphony of exchanging blows. Then, it ended with a hit on the flesh before an otherworldly scream echoed through the night sky.

Yuliy tucked his staff under his arm as he assessed his surrounding and regulate his breathing at the same time.

Red painted the walls and the streets of the abandoned city. Vampires amassed on this particular area surrounding the only living being within the vicinity. Their maws were wide and ready to sink their teeth into a fresh corpse. They were hungry for a meal. Unfortunately, he won’t give them the satisfaction of becoming full tonight. 

His role: exterminating a den full of vampires. He was successful in luring them out. Now, to make them disappear...

He looked around himself and saw about two dozen or so slaves, all trained towards him and ready to charge at the perfect time. Well, Yuliy still had more than enough energy to take them on but surely not at the same time. It would be difficult to manage at the same time would be overwhelming. Nevertheless, the only strategy he could think of was to create some space in between him and the hoard to manage the numbers.

The first two vampires lunged at him, giving Yuliy the perfect opportunity to jump up and land on the backs for escape. He took out a couple or so along the way and left their ashes behind. The rest of the vampires followed not a heartbeat later and gave chase to the jaeger who dared to infiltrate their hideout.

Yuliy continued to run, weaving through the city’s countless streets and alleyways in order to get away. He managed to kill a few more but there were seemed to be more that were following him. Another grunted under him as he maneuvered himself over and plunged the blade tip of his staff through its chest.

He was so focused on his work that he barely noticed another incoming vampire behind him. It roared with a vengeance but was cut off when it was kicked from behind. Yuliy had to move aside to make way. It landed with a satisfying thump on the ground and it became silent after a single shot of a revolver pierced its head.

Yuliy blinked up, wide-eyed in surprise. His brother stood over the vampire’s ashes, a pillar of dark leather and silver tresses standing strong before him. 

“Eh, nii-san? Why are you...?”

“What? I hate to see them laying their dirty fingers on my adorable little brother.” Mikhail smirks over his shoulder as he sheaths his gun behind him.

He was supposed to be in London, residing in a remote home that under surveillance of the headquarters. Only the professor and a selected few from the higher-ups knew where he lived and Professor Willard promised to update Yuliy regarding his brother and to deliver letters when he dropped by there. 

Now, to have his brother fight alongside him made his day extremely better. It only meant that they granted him some freedom after being cooped up somewhere. 

“The old man you call a professor asked if I can assist you,” Mikhail explained, brandishing his blades and taking his stance behind his brother. “Given that I don’t leave your group’s sight then I’m barely off the hook.”

There were still vampires surrounding them, all prepared to pounce on them and rip them to shreds. 

Yuliy huffed and swung his staff in front of his as a warning. “It’s better than not at all.”

Mikhail smiled at that.

★ ★ ★ 

“Really. I was thinking that the two Jirovs would keep themselves in check but I guess I was mistaken.” Dorothea muttered as she dabbed antiseptic on Yuliy’s wounds. They were mostly on his arms and on his back. That and a few more very shallow cuts there as well. Thank goodness for their tough bodies that the brothers did not sustain any life-threatening injuries.

Yuliy winced slightly when she pressed on a particularly sore spot on his shoulder. “It’s been a while since we hunted together. I guess we were excited.” 

“Really. How many did you take out exactly?” Mikhail smiled, his wounds all patched up and dressed in rolls of gauze. He lounges by the window sill basking under the morning sunlight like he wants to take all its rays and make them sink thoroughly on his pale skin.

“Eh? I’m not sure.” Yuliy hummed in thought as he recounted in his head. “About nine or ten, I think.”

His elder brother grinned wider.

“What?”

“Getting sloppy, Yuliy? I’ve been out of commission for a few months and still managed to get twice as much as you.”

“You would.” He’s better, Yuliy would tell him, but he’d rather not feed his ego right now. “But, I would have gotten them as well as you did.”

“Oh? Are you sure about that?” Mikhail straightened, his grin turned daring as he eyed his little brother.

“Yes. I am sure.” Yuliy dared to reply back.

“You wanna to even the score? I’d happily give you some of mine if it’d make you happy.” 

“I appreciate it but no, thank you.” 

“Not so gullible now, are you?”

“I learned from the best.”

They glared at each other, both at an impasse with their teasing bout, and Dorothea merely let them have their verbal roughhousing. 

It’s how Willard and the rest of the team found them.

“How are you two doing, gentlemen?” The professor greeted them. He stood next to Mikhail and passed a bag containing a fresh new shirt. That tattered button up he got from the vampire prince really needed to be burned.

“Better, professor. Thank you for helping my brother.” Yuliy answered, entirely grateful to the person he considered a father figure to look after the wellbeing of his only brother. Mikhail seemed pleased too as he puts on the shirt he was given.

Philip, on the other hand, sat as far away as he could from the group and glanced constantly towards the window. Specifically, towards Mikhail. As if he could forget how tight he was squeezing his neck back there at the Naoe mansion. Of course, the elder Jirov noticed and returned his stare with his own impassive one. Philip huffed and looked away.

“Who’s up for brunch?” Fallon called from the door. Trust him to break the tension.

Everyone agreed to eat together, even Yuliy automatically dons his clothes and Dorothea quickly set aside the medical kit. Everyone prepared to go...

...except for Mikhail who headed straight for the door the moment he was done changing.

“Nii-san?” Yuliy called out. “Aren’t you joining us?”

“You go ahead. Vampires don’t need to eat at all.” Mikhail waved as he got out, dragging the tattered red shirt as he went. “Besides, I need to throw this thing away.”

They watched him go in silence, all of them feeling some tension in the room and not sure how they could urge their newcomer to hang out with them more. The past was in the past, as they said. No need to dwell on them any further. Mikhail had been a victim and forced to obey against his wishes. They all knew that but...

Dorothea and Fallon glanced at their youngest member questionably until Philip’s patience snapped.

“I didn’t say anything! Stop looking at me like it’s my fault!”

★ ★ ★ 

The sun rose majestically to the heavens, giving light and warmth to this peaceful little bay and the city that grew along its coast. Seagulls flocked the embankment and along the roofs of nearby homes. The smell of the sea spread from his nose to his tongue and the sound of waves crashing on the beach was soothing.

He rarely came to admire and enjoy the cities he had been to. He appreciated the little taste of each country even though he was occupied by official vampire business back then. To think that he would live to see such sights again.

Mikhail closed his eyes and pillowed his head with hands as he stretched himself out on a random roof and savored this little peace.

“There you are.” 

Ah, well. Here’s a good company. Even if he did not open his eyes, Mikhail could tell that his brother had come to join him.

Yuliy sat carefully next to him, barely disturbing the roof tiles under their feet, a smile gracing his face when he settled. The wind made his dark hair more unruly than usual.

“How’s brunch?” He asked.

“It’s loud but it’s the usual,” Yuliy answered him. “Though, we all wish you could join us.”

“I told you vampires don’t need to eat,” Mikhail repeated, patient. “No food can nourish us except for blood.”

“Mm. You said that but it doesn’t mean you can’t eat any.” Stubborn child but Yuliy did not sound like one with how light his tone is.

There was rustling between them and Mikhail pushed himself on his elbows to see what it was. To his surprise, Yuliy brought a picnic basket. Huh? Was he going to eat here?

“Professor said you’re not aversed to steak so Fallon cooked one. Rare is fine, right?” Yuliy brought out what seemed to be a Japanese lacquered wooden box wrapped in what looked like a silk piece of colorful cloth. His younger brother laid it on his stomach so he could not complain. One sniff and Mikhail could tell there’s a tasty meal inside. “Then, Philip saved some cake for you. Also, Dorothea managed to get a few bottles of blood from a hospital but, if you want your usual then I’m sure the professor could spare us a bottle or two.”

“Oh, really?” Hearing all this effort just to get closer was actually making his lips quirk in amusement. They don’t really need to do that but the appreciation was there. He was not that heartless to not recognize it. “And he lets you drink that easily?”

“It’s an established fact that I can hold my liquor just fine.” It’s another story to be told, Mikhail knew that, but he laughed at his brother and vowing to ask the details about it.

He opened the box and was greeted by a juicy piece of meat. It’s rare, too, as promised.

He’d make sure to thank the cook later.

★ bonus ★

“Yuliy.” Mikhail called from the hallway just as Yuliy was about to take the stairs. “A minute?”

“What is it?” Yuliy stopped in his tracks and went to him. His little brother always had time to spare when it came to Mikhail.

He was given no answer, just Mikhail looking strangely pensive in front of him and then giving Yuliy a rather contemplative glance. He had been cooped up in Professor Willard’s study all day and this was the first time he had seen him come out. Even the professor admired his dedication to his work.

“Nii-san?”

Mikhail took a deep breath and held out his hand towards him. “Hand.”

It was automatic. As soon as his elder brother ordered it, Yuliy immediate placed his hand over his. Like a dog to its master. How embarrassing.

But, Mikhail stayed there unmoving. His eyes only trained on Yuliy’s hand on his. What was he thinking about and what was he going to do?

“Um...”

Mikhail seemed to gain some courage then and lifted Yuliy’s hand to his lips until his wrist lined up with the sharp fangs of his teeth. One small bite, one small puncture, and Mikhail pierced the skin. Yuliy nearly jumped away but it’s not as if his brother decided to drain him all of a sudden. He was only taking a couple of sips of the free flowing blood until he laved his tongue over it to clean the wound.

“Just as I thought. It’s definitely thicker...” Mikhail muttered to himself when he was done. He had a bandage ready and he wrapped the gauze pad over Yuliy’s wrist to stanch the flow of his blood.

“Nii-san, what are you...?” Yuliy, who was still surprised by what had transpired, asked.

“Research, and I was slightly thirsty.” Mikhail winked at him before walking back to the direction of the professor’s study. “See ya!”

Now, what was that all about and what research? About his blood?

#tenrou: sirius the jaeger #tenrou sirius the jaeger #sirius the jaeger #drabble: sirius the jaeger #my fic

[unusualneons]

The Dollmaker ⇨ art by Tattered Weave team, flags: x , x , x , x

do not use these icons if you fit anything on the banner & no claiming them as your own

#the dollmaker #icons #icon set #mogai #promogai #mogai icon #mogai icons #the dollmaker tattered weave #dollmaker #dollmaker tattered weave #tattered weave #tattered weave hc #tattered weave headcanon #headcanon #pride headcanon #dreamycoric #plushyic #gender creative #shaeperic