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#that i use in my own chronicles too!

wlwsims4 · 2 years

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Prompt 12, “Goth” for @nikatyler’s 28 Bloody Nights of CAS challenge

Back to the Cammies with Toreador Ancilla Nina Ulysses, fashionista, designer, simstagram celebrity, cosplay legend and yknow, on the side, dinner party host for vampires

Nina owns a small fashion label and a few venues she uses to show off her newest collections. Those events are heavily frequented by Kindred as her models are usually, uhh... potential food and/or Childer to be. Yes, she scouts quite intensely in her various stores for people who have a sense of style (obviously, otherwise they wouldn’t buy her clothes, right?) and taste. Literally. When it comes to her selections, Nina is somewhat of a gourmet. She prefers Sanguine and Choleric resonances and people with good cardiovascular health. Those who show great creative ability have a good chance of getting a Toreador sugar daddy that eventually embraces them, those who don’t... well. Y’know.

#sims 4 #ts4 #the sims 4 #simblr #ts4 vtm #28bloodynightscas #you know the fashion show venue thats actually a circulatory system outlet for vampires to window shop blood dolls is a concept #that i use in my own chronicles too!

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master-k0hga · 4 months

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/ Placeholder

| S H I G U R E |

[ Category: The Promised Land ]

| Another one of those, except this time another Elf variant in another couple posts from before! I briefly mentioned the different elements and types of Elven folk that live in the realm between realms previously but never got into much detail about them besides that there are different versions..

So this is Shigure, he in fact comes from the clan of Inferno Elves who mainly reside in hot or literally fiery climates of The Promised Land, but that doesn't mean they can't be found in other places too... Like Shigure here who literally moved from his own familiar climates into a rather icey cold one! Thanks to his tribe, he will feel practically nice and toasty no matter where he goes, so the Icey Mountains are a nice place for him to be...

Except he can still be rather hot headed as that seems to be a natural phenomenon within the Inferno Elves, but not to worry they calm down over time... Or the older they get I suppose.

Anyways-

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

INFO

Name: Shigure Species: Inferno Elf General Personality: Cocky, mean, judgemental, overconfident, disorganized, experience, sarcastic Height: 7ft “5” Relationship Status: Single

Extra Info:

He wields a bow and a shield because he's actually one of the best defenders/soldiers of the town, and mainly goes on night watch duty along with a couple other units; He's actually rather skilled with a bow and that one was made specifically for him by the Chief

Nibbles on paper for some reason, whether it's got nutrients the Inferno Elves need or if it's a habit of his, it's unknown as even his own colleagues question why and he just shrugs at them like a gremlin

Rather hot headed and can be such an asshole, especially when he's feeling competitive either in his training or when he's too into his job

He smokes a lot which has actively given him really bad coughs, also giving him such a grainy tone to his already deep voice; His doctors keep yammering onto him about the potential dangers but he ain't having it

His (even though he hates to admit it) best friend is actually Andy, they greet and name call each other rather unique for a couple of guys who's known each other for a few years; "Fuck face", "Stanky ass", and Andy's favourite: "Shit-gure"

His last name is 'Lotus' and he also has a twin sister who's like the completely opposite of him

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

Aaaaand I believe that may be is for this guy and for now too since the OCs I previously re-designed and just needed refs added onto them are getting smaller, so therefore I need to re-design more of my many other OCs that are in need of one!...

And the OCs that I did re-design but don't have refs yet are just ones I needed to re-draw again cuz their original fullbody just didn't look all that great...

Ok that's it..

. Shigure, Art © Me . DON’T RE-POST .

#MASTER-K0HGA #Ary / Kohga Chronicles #Ary / Kohga OCs and Works #Shigure #OC #Male #Inferno Elf #My Art #My OC #My Character #The Promised Land #Frostclaw Traders #Frostclaw #Original Character #Fandomless #Re-post #My art re-posted #I have quite a few of these from this little project too which I never realized before so...#Yeah them along with my Zarean species...#I have too many of those guys!#But that's cuz the majority of them were fan characters to other things before #As briefly mentioned:#Zareans used to be Slender beings from the Slenderverse #The Frostclaw used to be Yiga OCs for the Yiga clan back in BotW #And I changed them into my own thing cuz I was getting sick of it #And in both sort of occasions at the time there was too much drama into the circles of those fandoms #That I decided to make them into my own things #And I'm glad I did cuz nobody gave a fucking shit about anything I posted anyways no matter where it was...#So yeah. Forget it I'm doing my own thing from now and posting fan art when I want to #Go away!

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lilyoffandoms · 2 years

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Felix x Lucas by @lilas

Thank you again for such an adorable emoji of these two!! They are the cutest and this art is the cutest!! Thank you thank you!!

Be sure to go check out allll the pretty art and maybe even snag yourself a commission!!

#i will be grinning over this cuteness all day now #they are just too perfect #the wayhaven chronicles #felix x detective #felix x lucas #fanartists are the best #my commission #please do not repost #do not tag as your oc #don’t claim as your own #please ask artists permission before downloading and using

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evilminji · 7 months

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Oh... my god? Ghost Reporters.

Imagine it. Their office is in the Zone. They literally FEED of hunting for The Next Big Scoop! And Revealing The Truth! Every honest reporter that got silenced for getting a little too close to the facts. The bloody, beating, heart of societies underbelly.

Every Lois Lane that had no Kryptonian to stop some rich and powerful jackals putting them in the ground.

Well Death sure didn't stop THEM! They STILL want answers! But now they have co-wokers. Oh~ and SUPERPOWERS! And best part?

The newly appointed KING is going too and from the living world. That must mean it's okay now, RIGHT? Your majesty? You're not a RAGING HYPOCRITE, aaaaare you? :) 🎤

And... look. Danny knows full well what these piranhas are up too. He's not stupid. But Madeline Fenton raised a lot of things. Fool? Not one of um. That a LOT of reporters with sharp, sharp teeth and bloodlust in their eyes. He wants to half-live.

He compromises. Illusion of control and all that. Yeah, yeah, they all tooootally respect his authority etc. Give them Them Scoop! He, wisely, gets the fuck out of the way. Whoosh! Off they go!

Thats.... probably gonna be a problem. *siiiiiips his morning coffee* But it's not HIS problem. Not right now.

And? Suddenly all these politicians and business leaders are getting fucking AMBUSHED. Oh? You thought you'd get soft ball "aren't I a man of the people. Buy oil!" Bullshit questions? HA! Where were you on June 27th, 1978, at-

And "according to YOUR words, exact quote as follows-"

Just? They BEAT the leader with the STICK. "Oh but you'll lose access". They'd love to see HOW! They can go through WALLS! Answer the question, coward. "Your gonna make powerful enemies!" Oh nooooo, what are they gonna DO?

Shoot us TWICE?

Hey Mr. Family Values! How's the three mistresses your wife doesn't know about?? "No comment"? That's fine. We already have THEIRS. >:D Good luck with your upcoming election!

And like? As newspapers are shutting down and turning clickbait all across the country? This ONE(1) tiny, middle of nowhere town? Somehow has a horrid, horrid, ARMY of Satan's own Reporters. All apparently willing to die for the News. Throwing themselves at dictators and Supervillians alike.

"We see no God here but the Truth" is literally their papers MOTTO.

The damn thing is basicly a BRICK. You get a paperback of news. Entire planet AND THEN SOME. How?! How are they reporting, IN DETAIL, on the break down of talks between two planets 16 galaxies over? Hal says it's accurate. But what Earth paper would even HAVE that information?

And?? The whole town treats this as normal? There are human children, complaining about the weight of papers, because it makes their paper routes a pain in the ass. Soccer moms discussing alien celebrity drama. Farmers muttering over foreign unrest and how it will impact their corn harvest.

Fucking Lex Luthor, clearly deciding to roll with it, coming to sign himself up for a paper. Gaining a new life long Nemesis upon meeting Vladimir Master, whom he decides is both hot and unbearable. Someone is heard shouting "oh god, there's TWO OF THEM!"

And?? Look. Clark isn't MAD. Or JEALOUS. Nor is he in a secret Reporting War with Jerry from the Amity Chronicle. Because that would be petty and childish. He's just SAYING, maybe they should check the place out!

Maybe Jerry is a DICK and deserves it, is all. (Lois stop laughing.)

@hypewinter @hdgnj @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #Ghost Reporters Au

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samodivaa · 6 months

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Thrill me, Fulfill me

You agreed to help for one mission—now you are both lustful and carnal, affected by sex pollen—you are flint, he is tinder.

Warnings - sex pollen, smut, rough/possessive sex, Hydra past, breeding kink, choking kink, multiple orgasms

Words - 8k

(the 3D render is for this fic, enjoy :3)

The horizon tips on its side, and slowly, hour by hour, the day spills out and soon the night will spread its darkness—traveling through the countryside is a charming escape and in a chronicle of events, with the light of the days—you feel the light inside too, your human spirit wanders in thoughts as you sit on the BMW’s trunk with closed eyes. It is June, and the world smells of roses, moments like these leave a rich heritage of beautiful memories in their going—in a fortunate combination of delightful weather, Bucky and freedom—your soul feels at peace.

“I talked with Sam, he wants me to help him” There is an endearing nervousness in his voice “I was wondering if you would like to come with us”

In an instant, you reply with an annoyed face “No”

“No? Come on, you need people other than me in your life”

He scolds as he nests between your legs, fingers finding their way on both sides of your hips, drawing soft circles as they travel up towards your waist.

You arch an eyebrow at him, as if the answer is obvious “I don’t need others”

“You will love Sam, I told him about us, I mean-about us living together”

“You did, why?” you clip your words, hissing them into his face as you give a wide-eyed, searching look.

“I used to invite him over to my apartment, he started wondering why I stopped. I wanted him to know anyways”

“What else did you tell him?” you look at him with an arrested expression. His smile fades, and he finds himself staring into your eyes “James?”

It is only a brief moment, but you catch his blink of surprise at your demanding tone before he offers a tentative smile.

“I-I told him about your connections and he was hoping that-” he trails off quietly and you notice a tightness around his mouth and a dimness to his usually bright eyes.

You regard him thoughtfully and he sees the comprehension dawning in your eyes. You know exactly what he is asking.

“Did you miss the part of how I built them?” you ask, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He huffs in annoyance “Well no, but don’t worry-”

“Oh, hey Sam, I am another brainwashed assassin and when I escaped I did it willingly, for money, nice to meet you by the way”

“I get it, but you are changi-”

You snap, pinching your eyebrows close together.

“And this is my former partner who I used to occasionally fuck at Hydra and now that we have reconnected, we are fucking and living together”

“Anything else you want to add?”

“No, that's all” you finish bitterly, furious with him for letting Sam know so much about you.

“He already met you once in Madripoor, he knows about your past. Trust me, he is a good person, he accepted me”

You let out a hollow laugh

“I am not Captain America’s best friend, James. I am nobody, I don’t even have a legal identity”

You explain in a humorous yet deprecating tone, staring into space.

“Look at me, you need to trust me” he coos, his blue eyes have a doorway to your heart, the place where his care for you resides “I know that you are scared, but you need other people in your life”

It's the caring that he lovingly gives, the passion that he shows—that convinces you every time.

“If I break your heart, I break mine, darling”

Shifting your mouth from a frown into a light-hearted smile, you let out a small chuckle from underneath your breath. His metal hand rests on the small of your back, in that sweet spot that makes you feel feminine and protected—vanity, fear, uncertainty—all such distortions within your own ego—condition you to stay silent about your own feelings. Your programmed mind-pattern still needs to heal, all you need is time, you will get there eventually.

You kiss him on the cheek, which kind of surprises him.

“Хубаво, ще дойда” (Okay, I will come)

His gaze flickers up to your eyes and he can detect no deceit, no mockery.

There are many circumstances that lead to arrogance: one is when you're wrong and you can't face it—but you decide to face it this time, because you know that your brain relies on the familiar. It is reluctant to experience the unknown, which is the very essence of your human life.

The past should have no power over the present, but it still does sometimes—anger and death are deeply rooted, your emotional thermostat is broken. Everything in you is broken—you view yourself as pieces and Bucky somehow sees you as a whole.

Inside, your soul was so cold that you hated everything. You even despised the sun, for you knew you would never be able to play in its warm presence—you were condemned to stick to the past, working as a hitman for years. Everything changed when Bucky decided to track you down. You knew he was spying on you, because you made it easier for him.

You were afraid of the aloneness that you trusted for so long, but that is the truth that you still store in the granary of your mind. Maybe you will tell him one day. Maybe one day you will let him know that he helps you abandon your corporeal prison.

"Я просто люблю запах страха" (I just love the smell of fear) you whisper—a knife-wielding lunatic.

You face the attackers in a kind of instantaneous flash and see the disconsolate eyes, which remain stamped on your heart like the hot coals of fear, the power of death is then borne out by you—the queen at the bloody carnival, not afraid to spill blood while Bucky tries to prevent hurting, killing people at all cost.

It is easy when you work together, just as in the past—but he is holding back, you are not used to seeing him fight so carefully—Winter’s brutality is non-existent.

You sigh as the last man drops dead to the ground. With a knife in his chest. Or, rather, a pair of knives in the chest.

Yes, you helped them locate the rumored Hydra base, but Bucky’s intense paleness on his face shows regret, because you still don’t mind killing—you give him a pitying smile when your eyes meet before your system is poisoned with something.

It is such a tumultuous and intemperate invasion that you forget why you are here. And then your eyes meet again, there is fascination in his gaze, menaced by some invisible danger, and you want to succumb the terrible desire to weep when you realize what it is and you look at the mysterious trembling of your hands—your gaze goes up, but Bucky is nowhere to be seen.

He knows he has to go somewhere, he heads back to the apartment and he has feelings of sorrow, regret, directionless rage, a broad feeling of impotence. The horror of this misfortune penetrates Bucky so deeply that he is close to a panic attack—as if reliving the nightmare he sometimes has—Hydra giving him the pollen back in 1990.

He wanders all through the rooms as if walking in his sleep, chewing on his quiet rage.

He knows the theoretical mechanics of the pollen and he can barely stay on his feet because of the weakness of his knees, his skin is burning and he can’t resist the urgent need to palm himself through his pants—it starts slow and will go progressively worse.

He rubs his hand over his scalp, where his long hair used to be—now shaved very close to his head and bristling against his fingers, he lowers his blue eerily crystalline eyes before closing them. He feels like he should be crying, but he couldn’t summon the tears.

—it’s all his fault. Why did he need to come to your apartment a year ago, on a beautiful August’s evening?

„I knеw that we were following me, Soldat,“ you loudly acknowledge him, drawing out the derogatory term while your back is turned to him.

Stillness wraps Bucky up in a cold embrace, a chill running down his body as he hears you speak. On the string spun of your angel voice, grief and pain drowns him. The tone drawn from memory in his dreams it’s the same, unblinking, robotic as you offer him one spare look before focusing on cutting vegetables on the wooden board.

He exhales, then he slowly enters the apartment. „It is not Soldat, it’s Sergeant now“ his breath hitches and he stops as soon as he enters the room.

There is a crack in his stoic expression, excruciating memories flooding his mind. He knew that somewhere, some day, maybe at a less miserable time, you may see each other again, but he couldn't wait any longer.

The memories are still in his mind and the pain—too ripe in his heart. The more deeply he felt, the less he was able to breath, thinking of grief, and of getting past it.

That's why he came. He needs you in more ways that he wants to confess.

„Oh? What do you want, Barnes?“ your face is carefully blank.

„I wanted to talk to you“ he starts, taking a couple of steps towards.

Shadows lick up the side of his cheekbones, making his skin gold as he slowly walks to the opposite side of the kitchen island, you hear him move the wooden seating.

„And you couldn’t just-I don’t know…have knocked on the door?“

„Sorry, I didn’t know how to-“

He says, a tremor makes his voice uneven. Bucky takes in a deep breath to balance out the embarrassment thrumming through him.

„It is easier to be loyal to past habits, can’t blame you“ you murmur, voice perfectly respectful as you think about it with a heavy heart.

You said it as a matter of fact, without the scorn and mockery, but as an accepted truth before placing the knife you have been using, on the cutting board and finally facing him completely as you step closer to the island as well, leaning forward on your elbows.

But the wintery feeling of the pollen is already clouding the pond, frosting the pane, obscuring that summer's memory of meeting you.

The memory played in his head, with a hopeless nostalgia that he was completely disoriented—he doesn't care if you are heartless, vicious and vulgar, stupid, grasping with incurable programming and mental problems, he enjoys spending time with you. He would rather have misery with you than happiness with any other person, because it is shared, you have a deep and silent understanding.

He was so happy when you suggested living together four months ago—he was okay with the sleepovers at each other's apartments—never was bothered with the need to rush your companionship.

The key to personal development lies in the daily routine—creating new memories with you stretches out psychological time, and lengthens his perception of both your and Bucky’s lives. When he wakes up from a nightmare he is so relieved, because he wakes to a dream, he enjoys the miracle of living with each other as much at the table as in bed.

Bucky finally lays on the bed, his head aches. He admits that he is still human, vulnerable, and sensitive—but he begins to remember how it had been when Hydra gave him the pollen and his self revolted at this, hates himself for not being able to fight it, hates himself for bringing you here.

He is sick with conflict, destructive emotions festeres in him while this sludge eats away at his insides and Bucky is acutely conscious of the swift passage of time, it will make him become blunt and callous—there is a certain clinical satisfaction in seeing just how bad things can get for him, but maybe this is what he deserves.

When you push open the bedroom door, you can’t prevent it from scraping against the uneven floor. Suddenly, in the absolute darkness of his mind, Bucky is brought back to reality. He is not surprised, for without knowing, he has been expecting you to come.

You close the door behind you as he stands up on his elbows—wondering why are you such a stubborn, blind, obtuse woman—why are you here?

Your scent carries across the room and paralyzes him with longing.

“Stay away, why did you fucking follow me?”

You stop in shock at the words he utters—they are so rusty, so ugly, so meaningless.

He is vulnerable, slightly paranoid. Although his voice is broken by uncertainty and his hands seem to doubt the existence of things—he tries to appear composed.

You can feel his eyes traveling up your whole body, staying on your side for a split second before moving up to meet your gaze.

“James, we don’t have another choice, we don’t have time”

You can't blame him—he is scared, scared and frozen, afraid of what he can do to you...the old primitive urge for sex. It's getting harder to control it with every passing minute—every second is lived with terrible intensity. It all flows over you with a screaming ache of pain—as you see him, the need grows even faster...and all you can do is remember and feel—the effects of the pollen—like a disease of the blood, dispersing throughout the body.

He looks like a bundle of past recollections, knotted up in a bundle of flesh.You remember what his flesh has gone through—but you also remember what he put you through that day. You feel the naked fear, the urge of self-preservation, you appear solid in front of him, but you are mimicking nothingness.

“God, I smell you. So hot and sweet”

The blank hell in the back of his mind starts to break through, spewing forth like a dark pestilence, the pollen eats away the pith of his humanity—the chaotic words pour out of his mouth as he gets up from the bed and you self-paralyze, your back hits the door—but this is the only way that will pull you both out of the plunge of—pain, need.

Your sexual attraction to him has been heightened beyond measure, as much as you try to bury it deep down in fear, the lust is getting greater than any other feeling or emotion. Every part of him is heightened to you now...his voice included.

He stops in front of you, belatedly realizing where his feet have carried him. There is no glamor, no attempt to hide it, nothing: his need taking slowly over all his senses. The unwelcomed bubble of intrusive lust, sinking into an even more heavily occluded state—you feel it too as he molds his front to yours and pins your breasts against his chest.

You are mesmerized by the tiny flecks of indigo in his blue eyes—you can drown in those eyes and it wouldn’t be the worst way to go. His beautiful features offer themselves to your gaze as you trail through them, annoyed at how attractive he looks—putting your mind into a darker cloud of irritation, waiting for him to do whatever he wants.

You feel stuffy, there is not enough air to breathe as he cages you against the door, his consciousness already vanishing and deforms itself in something primal, there is a delicious animal fire in his gaze.

“I want to taste you so desperately, it rages through me-fuck, fuck this-I want to fuck you”

His eyes are growing moist with indignation, with angry impotence, he is barely controlling himself. It is the natural sequel of an unnatural beginning— it’s hard—but not harder than his cock.

“Do it, come on” you gasp out.

“If you don’t get out of here, you know what will happen”

He explains weakly, and when you say nothing, he grabs your waist with both hands, vision already blurring. His bones fill up with foam, a languid fear, and a terrible desire.

Bucky’s control dies a slow death, shedding layers like leaves until—there will be none—he tends to be particularly rough, aggressive and possessive when given the pollen. You remember the feeling of possessiveness he had as the Winter Soldier over you, so intense it transformed into an obsession over your body.

“I'm not leaving, I need this as much as you” you say, tremulous with longing.

Bucky stares at your mouth as you speak—it looks provocative to him when you talk.

“Enough, dammit, leave”

His voice tightens, it pierces your soul—half agony, half lust.

You still have the choice of running away and finding someone else to do it, but leaving Bucky behind—you know there is not a girl in the world that can handle him, no one else has the serum, but you—your brain is ricocheting in between. It all drifts to the periphery of the mind when you meet Bucky’s eyes.

“It’s normal-” you say haltingly, your expression turns guarded.

He is livid, a sad look on his face

“We are not normal” he interrupts with a soft firmness “It’s insane to pretend we are”

You are both aware. Catastrophically aware.

“Stop talking, we’ve been through that once-”

and you look so well-equipped for this that is seems abnormal to Bucky, he is conquered by the obstinacy of you—so docile and willing to help—he wants to be emancipated for the moment from the torment of the pollen, but the guilt is still eating him.

“Do you remember the year it happened?”

"You always ask me whether I remember the stupid years, lets just-” you say with a shrug.

"It matters, it matters to me. I hate that you remember, I hate myself for what I've done to you” He explains, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear with his human hand.

"James” you whisper his name tremulously “I don’t blame you for anything”

His pain is paramount and you want it to end. His pain, his guilt. You are willing to suffer for the rest of your night so that he can take the easy way out of his needs. You admit it to yourself, without bitterness—you need to sacrifice dearly on behalf of Bucky.

“I’ll lose control” What you cannot forgive is dishonesty—you would rather know the hideously unflattering truth of his devastating visions than foul evasions “If you try to run now, I will probably chase you down anyways”

With all that waiting you have lost the strength of your legs, the firmness of your breasts, your tenderness look—barely keeping your heart intact. Maddened by that prodigious talking, you shamelessly groan, closing your eyes.

“This is bad,” you whimper “Oh God, this is bad. Please, do something”

The next critical manifestation: the unbearable pain.

“Snezinka-” (snowflake)

“Stay with me” your eyes shone “Play with me, please” like those of a cat.

In that state of hallucinated lucidity—you just can’t take it anymore. Presently the need grows stronger, hesitating then no longer. The attempts to conceal the pollen’s effects don't work anymore.

“At least…give me permission this time” Bucky shakes his head, sadness vibrating through his body as he speaks through clenched teeth.

“Yes, do whatever you want” you moan, shaking, desperate for his touch.

And then you see something possessive wash over him, making your body shiver in anticipation.

“Please, I need yo-”

You say, nodding at the soul-reaching blue crystals, not looking away from him, but Bucky doesn’t let you finish as he kisses you. His lips are warm, his body is heat and muscles against you. He kisses you like a tide, gentle at first, but with the ability to drown, his fingers digging into your waist, urging you ever-nearer to him, even when it’s physically impossible to be. Then his fingers slithers over your chest, hands immediately find your breasts and he starts to massage them for his own pleasure.

His fingers curl around the edges of your soaked blood shirt, pulling and eventually tearing it away from your skin.

There is lust and there is pain, a whirling wheel—not stopping.

He wastes no time, kissing you deeply again, already missing the feeling of your skin.

“I am yours, you know that”

A simple reply, his voice cut into you like glass, his words bleeding into your skin. It isn’t something to be argued against, it’s the truth and you acknowledge that. It’s ridiculous, absurdly sentimental to think that you managed to lay a claim on him like you did in the past.

You are trying to think of something, coming up short when he presses his hips flush against yours again, the chest harness wrinkling under the tight grip of your fists, pulling him and he hems you up against the door, grinding his cock against you. You slide one hand downwards, wrapping around his hard manhood and squeeze, Bucky moans quietly and involuntarily rolls into the contact, desperately seeking relief.

“Fuck” he says, a bit too breathlessly.

„James-this is not enough“ you undulate your hips against the aching bulge.

His name falling on his ears like that sent chills down his spine, he can hear the beat of his heart, his palms belong on your skin as he closes the gap between you. Nothing is sweeter, nothing else than you—lust is spreading like quickfire in his veins, groaning in the kiss.

“I know, I know” he whispers, a hint of exasperation and affront in his tone, leaning forwards to kiss you yet again, teasingly licking at your lips as he pulls away.

Sexual perversions mix with guilt and adrenaline as his mind sees in scattered images of varying vulgarity. Bucky grips your waist and lifts you off the ground with ease, dropping you softly on the luxurious white linen bed.

You lick your lips, trying to quench the thirst for him. Your throat is dry as you watch him between your spread legs—his belt clattering noisily as he unbuckles it, popping the buttons of his jeans open, followed by the low purr of his zipper coming undone, he drifts his hands down his sides and hooks both thumbs into his jeans, sliding them and the boxers down his legs. The corners of his mouth curve upward when he notices you staring a moment too long as he removes his jacket and shirt.

You remove your own pants and then you spread your legs open, positioned right in front of his standing body—one hand toys with your breast through the bra while the fingers of the other hook in your panties and drags them down your legs fast before throwing them in his direction.

His breath stutters as he catches them with his metal arm, becoming more and more aroused with every beat of his heart that runs down his shaft. It’s becoming more painful. He starts to pump his cock, the veins bulging beneath his grip—even in his large hand, it looks intimidating, the veins in his neck tightening.

He’s quite tall with broad shoulders and an athletic physique that even his leather jacket cannot hide. Your eyes continue their upward travel to his strong square-shaped face framed with short brown hair that falls to his shoulders and deep, blue eyes.

He then craws on top of you and he cannot articulate a word, capable only of an animal sound, a strangulated wheeze that shocks him deeply, enraging him, this sudden loss of the faculty of speech that feels somehow bestial and forgotten now.

It is the impatience of the way he tears your bra from your body that really scares you: the pollen getting the better of him and you spread your legs wide, exposing your overall and the fragrance of the essences permits in the air, he smells it.

His cock nudges around your sleek mound until he gasps as he guides his sticky cockhead glides through your delicate folds. He doesn’t say anything as he slips inside you, burying himself to the hilt.

Sex with you this time is different, he has never felt this dominant, this claiming, this selfish. He is so far in that his balls are right against your pussy lips.

His greedy lips are once again on your skin, devouring everything he can—licking, sucking, and kissing, not holding back his throaty moans. He drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth. His lips are usually gentle and loving, promising long days and summer forever—but they soon turn sharp, peppermint, winter.

Animal logic. Prey. Predator… teeth dragging against your neck, living marks. The primal lust, the sheer need to claim you, quickly finding ways to express his sacred hunger to you in animal passion. He snarls out gluttonous groans against your skin as you clench and seize, pounding you harder as your body contracts. Pleasure breaks out like a wildfire, reaching around your temples; shooting up and down your spine.

You're perfect when you're underneath him, it's where you belong, beautiful face and pretty wide eyes locked onto his powder-blue orbits—curves cushioning him, your obedient body lush, muscular, but still feminine, your eyes flashing—and all he wants is to ruin you.

It's a sinful sight each time he buries the length of his cock all the way inside you, shaft slick and wet and glistening when he pulls it out. You make the prettiest noises when he shoves in deep only to pull out and slam himself back inside, you've got the prettiest expression as he grips your legs and folds them up to fuck his dick into you even harder than before.

“Don’t stop, don’t, please”

There is something raw and pleading in your voice that surpasses sexual desire, these fleeting moments of carnal craving.

He continues to trail his lips down the front of your throat and you realize that he is mouthing words against your skin “Mine. Mine. Mine”

“You feel so good every time, snezinka” he murmurs at your ear as slide to your throat and he tightens his grip on both sides on your neck, reducing the blood and oxygen to the brain. When he loosens, the rush of blood and oxygen to the brain results in an explosion of dopamine, followed by a shamelessly loud moan from your lips “I think that I love you”

“We’re drugged. That’s why,” you gaspe “Did you forget?”

Bucky acknowledges your words, they sink into him—he focuses his attention on your skin. He nibbles at your earlobe, loving the sharp intake of your breath, skin breaks out into a pale sweat and your eyes fill with tears. His trusts are ruthless.

“There is no pleasure as good as the feel of your pretty cunt wrapped around me” a dark edge creeps into his tone.

He says as he fills out pounds you, drawing a muffled scream from your throat as he starts to thrust more rapidly, setting a demanding rhythm.

Something strange starts to rage inside him, hearing you inhale sharply as he continues to kiss and bite your neck, leaving bruises deliberately and as he fucks you deeper, wanting to mark you in an entirely different way—he wants to breed you.

And you know you will wear the bruises of Bucky’s hands as you wear the scars of Soldat.

All extremes of the pollen are allied with madness, finally consuming his brain and body.

“You are so beautiful”

He says into your skin, tears welling, confused, mingling in his throat. Old wounds never truly heal, your past will never fully heal anyways. That one tear, that tiny, salty, droplet of moisture is a means of expression—joy, and torment. Although it's just a small tear, it is the heaviest thing in the world. And it doesn't do a damn thing to fix anything in this situation.

“James-” your whole body exhaled a lugubrious lament, your heart breaks for him.

His eyes are always soulful, in some way; they seem to say things that you know he's probably never say out loud.

“I know baby, I know,” he nibbles on the side of your neck “You are so beautiful, I am sorry-so sorry, I can’t stop” his growls erupt from his chest, the primal noise flooding your senses, making your insides clench around his length “I need this, I need you”

You’re powerless…utterly at his mercy and that’s what makes you cum—his voice sends shudders through your body, reacting in all the right ways to the words. The orgasm has gutted your vocal chords, and all you manage is a small gasp, tears slipping down the old salty trails as he doesn’t stop, his head lulling on your shoulder.

He leans down, nose brushing against yours as he pants, thrusts never faltering, his mouth hangs open with bliss, his cock plunging into you with skin-slapping speed and he finally reaches his orgasm, cock spurting a thick dollop of cum with each throb. He closes his eyes, because of the volcanic eruptions of fever still goes through his body—his orgasm is long, raw, reaching all his body senses.

Sex is unthinkable without roughness tonight—he is already thinking about his second orgasm—should he just cum in your mouth when he makes you fall to your knees… or if he should take you by the hair before he’s finished and fuck you into a sobbing heap before blowing his load. Of the few times Soldat has face fucked you—gagging you to near vomiting—you’ve never miss a drop of cum. He remembers it.

His hand closes around your throat and the grip tightens, slowly cutting into your skin while cutting off oxygen. It is more painful than lethal, but more erotic than painful. Your head is spinning, ears are ringing—suddenly, without warning, he withdraws completely, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. As you try to catch your breath, you feel him get up from the bed which urges you to come back to your senses faster.

In his temporary madness, an idea comes to his mind.

In seconds, he is back on top and when your vision finally clears—his lusty orbs descend to your cheeks, detailing your skin before leaning in to lick off your tears—some form of mercy which you don’t need.

He is now in that state of fire that excites you. You want to be burnt.

His eyes drift leisurely back up to your face and he smiles, nova-flare eyes blazing into your own—you look for love hiding in his eyes, in his face, and you find nothing but possessiveness.

But something is not right.

His eyes are cold and dark.And your heart stops.

He is taking you over. Staking a claim.

He slowly thrusts his hips forward, his cock pressing into your front, earning a squeal from you as he ruts back and forth dragging his length across your opening and then slowly plunges into you. You exhale, trembling as you feel the tip pressing against your opening and penetrating you. He is mesmerized by the sight of his cock disappearing inside of you, filling you up to the brim.

Bucky brings both of your wrists above your head and grips them in his metal arm, restraining you from moving them—and you tremble like a downy rabbit caught in the clutches of a wolf—he seizes you as boldly as Soldat used to capture his favorite prey—you—in the past.

A flash blinds you for a moment and you see him holding his phone—this feels surreal—leaving you breathless with an inexpressible delight of it. Bucky’s inner voice of lust speaks, it is so spontaneous and unannounced. Your mind searches for the logical thought of his action.

“Fuck, I can cum just by looking at it” He musters his primest tone, throwing the device to the side.

You whimper as your abdomen contracted painfully around his hard length at his words. He lets his fingers release your hands as his cold digits swipes back the hair from your face. Cursing, he grips the back of your neck and brings your lips to his while the metal ones grip your hip so tightly you are sure he’d leave a bruise. You whimper as he starts to fuck you, slamming you into the matress.

The usual warmth of his hands is not there. They chill your skin as they hold you close to his body, and you realize he is scared. The extreme joy mixes with the bone-crushing grief—what if you don’t want to be around him after this night? What if you condemn him, consider it with high and unjust resentment and leave him? It pierces his soul, but he can’t stop—he is half agony, half animal...the past beats inside like a second heart now.

Your soft fingers trail his face and continue to attempt a connection that he refuses to acknowledge at first—the past slips and vanishes like sand between the warm touch of your fingers, acquiring material weight, only in its recollection, because the more shared past there is in any relationship, the more present you need to be for each other.

“Let go," you whisper and he loosens the grips—he is ashamed of holding you so tightly "No, not of me," you say smiling.

You look right into his eyes, right into him as far as you can see, because you want him to hear you, you want him to hear you with everything you say—and his chest tightens as if some euphoric drug has gone straight to his nervous system—but it is not the pollen, it is you—reassuring him, leaving a psychic imprint in his mind.

It’s both a blessing and a curse to share the same trauma. And even though you are sometimes harsh, restless and despairing—he is your weak spot, you love him in your own way.

"You can hold on to me as long as you want. Let go of the past, let go of the pain" you say, giving him permission, taking him into your flesh, a clear invitation to madness.

Emotions clamp down on his heart, but he stays terribly silent. Bucky says nothing after that, only your name, as if your name is not a name but a question. He shakes his head and kisses you, long and quiet.

He grabs your jaw in one hand forcing you to look at him, tears coursing down your cheeks as he thrusts into you, making low, growling noises in his throat—a predator purring with pleasure while it devours its prey, picking up a brutal pace once again. Your legs tighten around his waist, hooking over his hip bones as he practically folds you in half, nails digging into his back, surely breaking his skin with your manicured fingers.

He groans at the pain and removes your hands, intertwines his fingers with yours, pins your wrists flat to the mattress on either side of your head. He holds himself up over your body as he fucks into you, supporting his weight on his forearms. His cock is slamming into you, balls bouncing against your clit just right, the sight of his well-muscled body, covered in a thin layer of sweat, invites you to utter depravity, it is what drives you over the edge.

“You look so good taking all of me” he pants against your throat “I will fill you again-so good”

Hard, long, deep trust that forces moans out of both of you.

You whimper and nod dumbly, screw your eyes tight as another wave of pleasure spread throughout your body in orgasmic tingles as he pulls his own climax with you. He presses his face against your neck as his hips lose any and all sense of tempo and when he finally stills, he holds himself deep inside as he leans back—with every breath, your bust heaves, sweat droplets running between them and attracting his gaze.

It pollutes his mind even more, it cripples his morality, because he is infatuated with fucking you like this again—is it the pollen at this point?

''Bear with me'' He murmurs, gritting his teeth ''I need…more” his cock slowly sliding out of your tight pussy before sliding back inside with equal slowness, sliding through copious amounts of thin lubrication and cum. Your legs wrap around his waist and prevent him from pulling out even if he wants to—your understanding, your willingness is a kind of ecstasy to him.

The blue moons in his eyes are glimmering with an emotion you can’t put your finger on. What is he thinking about?

A part of him cares about you.

But there’s a depravity in his mind right now that enjoys seeing you like this—your hair is in disarray, several tendrils scattered across your face and constricting your view of him, sweat pricks at your hairline and down your back. There is something unmistakably exultant in turning you into a mess—such a mess of cum and tears. Gently, he brushes the tendrils out of your face, tenderness in his touch—that’s the part of him that cares.

“I need you on the floor, on all fours” —that's the part of him that's deprived tonight.

You can feel the desire. The thirst. The absolute beast threatening to tear from his skin.

Soldat loved to fuck you against solid ground. He never truly left, sometimes Bucky is on the verge of cracking and showing the color of the thing beneath, but you don’t mind, you are not scared, you never were.

All he wants is for you to be filled, marked, bruised from staying up all night, taking his cock into your body until you are depleted of all your strength. Even then, he will fuck you. He doesn’t say more, but he groans as he gets up—what a sinful twist of his lips, watching you slowly get up, your legs are incapable of supporting your weight much longer.

Your cunt hurts, too—you feel his cum dripping down your thighs, making yourself position in doggy style, legs winched apart, everything exposed to his view and he goes to stand on knees behind you, eagerly holding up his cock then he lines up your hole. He twists your hair around his fist and yanks your head back, at the same time thrusting into you from behind as his fingers slide to dig into your ass.

Bucky grunts as he slams into you “Я без ума от тебя” (I'm mad about you) his balls slapping against the sensitive nub. You choke on your words, this angle allowing him in far deeper than before. You arch your back more and dig your nails into the floor, clawing at the dirty ground as he relentlessly pounds into you. Sweat drips down his neck as he watches himself entering and exiting you.

He grips your hips tightly, slamming into your snatch with ferocity. A wave of pleasure suddenly overwhelms you, and the tingling is growing stronger once more.

“Я предан тебе…ты моя девочка”(im devoted to you)...(You are my girl)

You can only mewl and gasp as you are rocked back and forth on your knees, losing your breath every time his cock hammers into your cunt. You clench around him when you hear your full name spoken in his gravelly tenor.

He molds his front to your back, spearing through your tightening pussy. He grabs your hair and snaps your head back roughly before it travels down around your throat and squeezes tight while his other palm splays across your stomach.

His lips rests on the back of your shoulder, hissing

“Очевидно, что , нас чувства друк к други” (You can’t deny what's between us)

He carries on rutting you like an animal. Your skin slapping together, your pussy squirting around his cock as it invades your snatch repeatedly, making suction squelching noises with every thrust in of his length. It keeps on hitting your cervix, your nubile breasts swing with the force of your body rocking—you know that you will be sore later.

"You fill my heart, I fill your cunt"

But his words strike every inside your body and his honesty brings the euphoria of complete surrender.

“Enough, stop, it is too much”

You plea and nearly asphyxiate on the words as your orgasm bursts upwards from your abused cunt. A sob wracks your throat and he continues thrusting, riding your orgasm until your entire body is convulsing and you are desperately trying to wiggle out of Bucky’s arms with the last of your strength, but it's not enough compared to the strength of his arms holding your hips with renewed vigor, determined to breed you.

You catch sight of him from your peripheral vision, his eyes closed, his lips are silent, but he chatters with his fingertips, with the way his hands grip your hips, fingers digging in, the way he fucks you. And you thought that he chose that position, because he was embarrassed, but he was not—he wanted to disguise from you how much he was enjoying himself.

You have the strength to kill him, but here you are—so obedient.

His little submissive.

His expression is dreamy, floating. Soaked in pleasure—breathless, possessed, lost in the volcanic eruptions of fever, lust and delight. Your pussy cradles around his dick as he pounds into you from behind.

“James”

His name on your lips sooth a place deep inside him, and the urgent need to hear it in again pulses in his heart, making himself guilty of such a secret, he must perforce hold it—

—but he shamelessly let out a loud moan, he never felt so out of control. You are a disease worse than the pollen itself.

“Bucky”

That makes him groan like an animal, noises coming out of him that you never heard before, he was never this vocal. The groans are desperate, endless, but the sound of his name is unspeakably erotic to him. He can’t get enough of this. He will die without it, without you.

“You look too pretty when you’re getting fucked like that” he blurts out, without even thinking.

There is already a fissure in his mind and madness just rushes through. Praising him puts him on edge, it’s something he never thought he wanted or needed. You wreak havoc on his life.

He squeezes his eyes shut—to utilize the entire spectrum of the other senses, moans of ecstasy crescendos and his breaths come in short instances, each with a slight pause in between as his body is rack with his orgasm, cum is flooding out of your cunt, dripping of you onto the hardwood floor and there is a charm about it that makes it unspeakably desirable for Bucky.

In this stillness, he finally finds serenity.

All you want to do is crawl back beneath the mound blankets—he gently picks you up and you smile crookedly at him, something about your smile loosening a knot in his chest, because holding you in his arms is more natural to him than his own heartbeat.

Morning came in through the blinds cutting everything into ribbons, but the light can make the most vulgar things tolerable—you are aware of the aching hips, and your whole body hurts like hell as if you have been run over by a train.

Bucky steps out of the bathroom, freshly showered with a white towel around his lean hips. He takes a half step toward the bed, and his jaw works for a moment before he asks

“How are you feeling?”

“Tired, did you tell Sam what happened?”

“No, of course not. He is thankful that you helped us” He says and rakes his fingers through his damp hair, making it stand on end “He invited us to Louisiana”

You barely resists smiling at him “Okay”

He raises a brow “Just like that, okay?”

“If you give me my bracelet back”

You both look at the bracelet around his right hand. Then he bites his lip as he grins.

“Not happening” he says, his tone flattening and he can't help the smirk that tips up the corners of his mouth.

“Guess I need to buy a new one then” You peel back the covers, indicating for him to get in and you watch him climb next to you “With your name on it”

His palm reaches up to wrap around the back of your head, his fingers tangling in the depths of your hair, pulling you closer, his lips hovering over yours. Everything about him pleases you.

Not just his looks, but his patience and his kindness. He is an obsession waiting to happen. Kissing him is terrifying, breathing the same air makes your knees weak, a liquid sensation swooping throughout your stomach—but you've been betrayed, stabbed by every single person in your life, the body heals, but it injures the heart and the wound lasts a lifetime. You are scared of love, scared of these new feelings, scared of trusting anyone, but you are trying—that’s why you gently press a kiss to his mouth.

(Her kisses are deliberate and polished. When she kisses me—she doesn't want me. She has me and knows it.)

Bucky throws himself onto the couch next to Sam, slewing his eyes over to him.

"So you are sleeping and living together, but you are still not in a relationship?"

He takes a long sip of his drink when he hears the words, tips his head back against the couch, and decides he could…maybe live with that.

"Yeah"

Sam’s lips tighten to suppress a smile "That's a bit weird, Buck"

He chuckles, low under his breath "The part where I live with my ex-coworker or the part where we sleep together?"

James takes a deep breath, and Sam can see his blue eyes searching for his, like he is looking for an answer.

”Maybe it is what it's meant to be for now” A frown settles on Bucky’s face as he considers that “She has a lot to experience, too. If you pressure her with anything, you might lose her completely”

“I don't want to be in love, but she is making me, Sam” he sighs, a headache blooming right between his eyes. He rubs at the spot, stalling as he tries to figure out what he wants to say “But you are right, she needs to heal”

Several emotions swirl in Sam’s eyes. Worry, sadness, maybe even intrigue. But not judgment. Never. “Did she agree to go to Wakanda?”

He wets his dry lips and says the most basic truth:

“No, she is too untrustworthy, I can’t believe she even agreed to come here”

Sam sees it as hope—and he wants to put that light within his friend, too “But she did”

They can’t talk about it anymore, not when they hear you, Sarah and the kids coming back, and when your gazes meet, your soft smile and the look in your eyes, they are the best interpreter of your mind—you are truly happy, seeing you like that makes him feel like he can single-handedly vanquish an army.

He has outlasted all family, desires, dreams, his grief alone is left entire—sometimes visiting the lonely desolation of nightmares, they are gleamings of his empty heart—Bucky is a heap of ashes, but meeting you—kindled him back into fire.

Oh my goshhh thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed this project!

More of this ex!Asset AU? - MASTERLIST

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dreamcubed · 14 days

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hp fanfic recs!!

hello all! i feel like i dont interact enough with this community, so here's some recs for you all (i do follow these people, on my main blog @emptytakeawaycup) give them a follow too!

mattheo riddle;

we aren't over (18+) - @slytherinslut0

summary; fwb gets jealous seeing you kiss another guy at a party after the two of you had called things off

this love - @wordsarelife

summary; mattheo finally asks you to be his girlfriend

let me ruin fuck you (18+) - @slytherinslut0

summary; worried that mattheo was just going to use you for sex and leave, you had him agree to courting you first until you felt you were ready to take it to the next level. after months of this, mattheo finally can’t take it anymore, and lands himself on his knees at your feet

theodore nott;

the cat chronicles - @obsessedwithceleste

summary; five times theodore nott *accidentally* stole your cat

darling socialite - @fangisms

summary; you are talkative as all hell, and theo has dubbed himself your devoted listener

just like your boyfriend - @angelfrombeneth

summary; you and theodore are the new it couple in hogwarts. theo's known for always causing up a stir but never you. at least you do yours in private. it isn't until your faced with skylar snaggle, the one girl you can't stand that you break that streak

too many nights - @priniya

summary; theodore nott spent too many nights, smoking and hanging out with matt’s little sister to not make her his girlfriend

second hand smoking - @evergone

summary; a short one where theo teaches the reader how to smoke

i'm [nott] a bad person - @evergone

summary; the reader and theo are accused of causing a fight, but they swear they didn't do it

an unintended double date - @papercorgiworld

summary; enzo doesn’t want you ruining his date so he calls in back up to keep you busy, which leads to an interesting date

fred weasley;

something that we're not - @sergeantbuckybarnes

summary; you and fred are friends. best friends. who happen to cuddle and sleep in bed together all the time

anything - @ibbythebee

summary; fred would do anything to see you, "hogwart's strictest prefect", loosen up

first time (18+) - @frenziedfireworks

summary; you've been trying to figure out how to bring up sex to your boyfriend...

george weasley;

blindsided - @desideriumwriter

summary; as the gryffindor quidditch team celebrates their win on the field, malfoy begins to openly throw insults in front of george and fred towards them, their parents, harry, and you. george isn’t able to ignore and shrug off his mockery. it only ends in a shocking altercation between the redheaded gryffindor and sneering slytherin

blaise zabini;

everything i'll ever need - @slytherinslut0

summary; your boyfriend whisks you away from the enchanting yule ball, blindfolding your eyes in mystery, alluding to a secret spot. though he suggests it's merely to show you something, what unfolds is a testament to his deep appreciation for your love of nature and a showcase of his genuine gentlemanly demeanour

a night at the museum - @pizzaapeteer

summary; where your boyfriend blaise takes you for your birthday to your favourite place

draco malfoy;

an unintended double date - @papercorgiworld

summary; enzo doesn’t want you ruining his date so he calls in back up to keep you busy, which leads to an interesting date

remus lupin;

remus can tell you have a crush on him - @luveline

remus and you exist in your own little bubble - @luveline

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not-magdi · 4 months

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"Us, Forever"

Summary: Pablo can't believe how lucky he got with you, he really can't believe it

Word Count: 1.1k

A/N

I managed to get Corona! The one time I would have had time to write something I got Corona and a Fever that cooked my brain. But, now my test is negative again and my brain is producing ideas like crazy!

Hope you like this one though,

Love you guys Magdi <3

You didn't know what to think when you saw his pain-filled expression on TV. You sat there, completely frozen, worry the only thing on your mind.

When you heard his sobs over the phone as he told you how bad it was, your heart shattered into a million pieces. That day made you realise that from that moment on, you had to be the strong one in this relationship.

It made you realise that he needed you to be the one he could lean on, the one Pablo could let his guard down, somebody that could be strong for him too. So he didn't have to be all the time.

You made it to your mission to do everything in your power to help him in any way possible. You rebuilt your living room into a bedroom, so he didn't have to go up any stairs. You held him day and night when the pain got too strong, and the only thing he could do was cry.

"Baby, I'm here ... I'm here for you. Let it all out I got you."

His grip on your hoddie was so hard that his knuckles turned white. You wrapped your arms around him like you wanted to protect him from everything terrible that this world threw at him.

Pablo felt safe in your arms. Your sent calmed him down. The warmth of your body engulfed him in a comforting manner.

He buried his face deeper into your neck as he felt his breath starting to slow down again.

"T-Thank you, I-I'm sorry. I don't know what happened."

You grabbed his head to make him look at you. You assured him, "Hey, it's completely ok to feel like shit sometimes. What you are going through is nothing easy. Sometimes you just have to let it all out."

Kissing his head, you stand up to grab something to eat for the two of you. Seeing that it was already 6 in the morning, you decided to start the day, knowing you two wouldn't fall asleep anymore.

Pablo kept lying on the couch. The pain in his knee was now only a dull ache. He sat up a bit to be able to see you rummaging through his kitchen drawers, trying to find something to eat.

An unconscious smile makes its way onto his face. He can't get his head around how you are willing to do all of this for him. Like he really doesn't know what he would do without you. You'd do everything for him, he doesn't even have to ask for it.

But it scared him that you wanted to help him so much. It frightened him that one day, you could wake up and realise how much work it was to be in a relationship with him. And that you would leave him because of that.

Realistically, something like that would never happen, but he was a chronicle overthinker, so let him be.

When you came back from the kitchen with two plates in your hand, you sensed something was bothering him, but you wanted him to tell you on his own.

You two ate your breakfast in silence, it was a weird kind of silence. You felt that Pablo wanted to tell you something the whole time, but nothing came. He just sat there and played around with his food.

"You not hungry?"

Looking like a child who got caught doing something stupid, he shakes his head and lowers his gaze again, not able to hold eye contact with you for so long.

Thinking he wouldn't say anything at all. You were about to say something when you heard him say. "How do you do it?"

Confused, you look at him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, like ... like how do you keep up with me?"

Your confusion didn't get any better. You looked up from your plate and saw Pablo already staring at you, a curious yet slightly sad expression on his face.

Pablo noticed your confused expression and continued to talk.

" I mean, how can you keep up with literally having to be my server? You are cancelling your plans to stay home with me and do everything to keep me comfortable. You put my life before yours. Why do you do that? I-I don't understand. "

You loved him deeply and didn't see your efforts as a burden. It was natural for you to do what you could to help him. You couldn't enjoy yourself while he was suffering because it felt wrong to you.

Your silence made Pablo panic a bit, maybe he made you realise that you didn't want to live like that. What if you were actually sick of him needing care 24/7 now?

Your voice interrupted his inner monologue, " I have no clue, to be honest. It's just - the second I heard you were injured, I felt like I had to take care of you, to help you somehow."

You took a second to think of your following words. "When I heard you crying on the phone that day, I just felt the need to protect you, to take care of you. I know that you are a capable individual who can handle things on your own, but I want you to know that I love you with all my heart. When you care about someone deeply, it's natural to want to do everything in your power to ensure their well-being. So, even though I trust your abilities, I just want to remind you that I'm here for you if you ever need help or support. Your happiness and safety mean everything to me, and I'll always do my best to make sure you're feeling okay."

Hearing Pablo sniff made you stop your rambling and look at him.

"Dios mio, these medications make me emotional."

Pablo let out a wet chuckle as he wiped his tearing eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.

You smiled at the boy before you and leaned down to place a kiss on his red nose. "I don't care, I love you one tear more or less isn't gonna change that."

"I love you too, so so much."

#pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi oneshot #gavi x reader #pablo gavi x you #pablo gavi icons #pablo gavi x y/n #pablo gavi #gavi x you #fc barcelona #fc barça

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ineffable-suffering · 6 months

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INEFFABLE META MASTERPOST

Because I'm slowly losing count and need to organize. So, here's all my self-written metas or ones that I reblogged with my own added theories and commentary! In rainbow colours, naturally.

1 – Aziraphale, I love you. But you lied. And here's why. My most lengthy and proudest meta about the Final Fifteen and why I think Aziraphale lied on purpose. (Also: The absolute darling @esthermitchell-author bravely fought their way through it and wrote up some more interesting points and different takes on what I came up with. If you want to go down a S2 rabbit hole with us, go read it here.)

2 – Why Aziraphale is an unreliable narrator (links below) A three-part meta in which I try to analyse and explain that all of the minisodes in Season 2 are not objective narrations but actually Aziraphale's memories.

Part 1: The Story of Job

Part 2: The Story of wee Morag

Part 3: The Story of the Magic Show in 1941

3 – The Jane Austen Ball and why it was never about Nina and Maggie A meta in which I go into unnecessarily great detail about how the Whickber Street Meeting Cotillion Ball was meant to be Aziraphale's confession to Crowley.

4 – Crowley & Aziraphale were never free (reblog) A reblog of @baggvinshield's post in which I explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

5 – In Defense of Aziraphale (double reblog) A double try at explaining why I think Aziraphale's POV in the Final Fifteen is just as horrible as Crowley's and why I don't think him "choosing" to go back to Heaven was the only point of his character journey.

6 – The Art of Miscommunication: Ineffable Edition A meta in which i once again explain why miscommunication is the single biggest ineffable enemy in Season 2.

7– Season 2 Bookshop Shot Meta A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a single bookshop frame in Season 2.

8 – What if it wasn't Aziraphale and Crowley who performed the 25 Lazarii miracle? A mini-meta in which I propose the theory that Jimbriel helped with the miracle to hide himself away from Heaven & Hell.

9 – Things in Good Omens Season 2 I still find weird (reblog) A reblog of @ok-sims and many other great OPs' thoughts on the weird loose strings in Season 2 and what unanswered questions I still have myself.

10 – The Deleted Bookshop Scene (reblog) A reblog of @skirtdyke's video and @i-only-ever-asked-questions' smart thoughts on it, with my own overly-excited 'what that could have meant for the "It's too late" line'-theroy.

11 – The Bentley Handle Easter Egg A meta I can proudly say has been liked by none other than Mr. Neil Gaiman himself about Crowley's Bentley handle that might have existed before the Bentley ever did.

12 – The F*cking Eccles Cakes A meta where I briefly loose my mind because of a pastry. (Addendum: People said very smart things in the comments of the post!)

14 – Re: "You go too fast for me, Crowley" A meta in which I make myself sad by connecting that infamous line to Aziraphale assuming Crowley wanted the Holy Water as a suicide pill.

13 – Trauma-Dumping on your plants: The Anthony J. Crowley Chronicles A meta on why Crowley treats his plants the way that he does.

14 – Demonic Mental Health Awareness Post In which I talk about why I want to get Crowley a therapy voucher.

15 – The Curious Incident of The Flaming Sword in Good Omens A meta on why the Flaming Sword has no deeper meaning. Or does it? (Updated: here's a reblog from @queerfables who did a wonderfully exellent job at calmly explaining all the swordy questions I was yelling about! Consider this meta solved.)

16 – Ceci n'est pas une plume A meta in which I'm a bit of a nerd for language and also explain why learning French and magic the human way says so much about Aziraphale as a character.

17 – The meaning of "I forgive you" A meta in which I explain what both "I forgive you"s mean and why Aziraphale will always fight for what is right until he wins. Also, the lovely @sharksbeerr translated it to Chinese on Weibo!

18 – Memory, or the lack thereof, in Season 2 A little reblog on how memory is a big and unresolved, leaky-bucket theme in Season 2.

Addendum:

The one non-spoiler-y ask I could come up with about S2 that was actually answered by Neil, yay!

Also, this wholesome little post I added to that Mr. Gaiman also reblogged. :‘)

*** This is a work in progress and will get updated every time I post a new meta! ***

#good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #gos2 #go2 #good omens 2 #good omens meta #good omens s2 #my own meta #good omens season 1 #meta masterpost #ineffable-suffering

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physalian · 1 month

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In Defense of Fanfiction (Or the perfect starting point for your original novel)

Fanfic gets a bad rap pretty much everywhere except Tumblr. It’s misunderstood and misrepresented by its average works, seen as juvenile and cringey, or a banal point of contention between a famous person or piece of media and its fans.

Outside of fanfic that writes about real people, especially smut fics of real people, I support the art wholeheartedly. Fictional characters are one thing, but personally, caricaturing a celebrity’s life for public consumption and writing or drawing them in compromising content without their consent is a little weird. You do you. Don’t like, don’t read, as they say.

Fanfic is the perfect starting point for a few reasons:

It places you in a creative box and forces you to work within those constraints

It does all the worldbuilding and character concepts for you

It lets you write way outside your comfort zone

When published and receiving feedback, it boosts your self-confidence

It's incredibly flexible

It’s practice. All practice is good practice

—

Behold your creative box

When I was little I had no idea the majority of fanfic was shipping fics. I always pictured and looked for canon-divergent alternate universes. Like, what if X happened in this episode instead of Y? What if this character never died?

Fanfic demands you work within someone else’s canon, whether it’s an OC in the canonical world, or the canonical characters in an AU. These are like little bowling bumpers saving you from the gutter, but also keeping you on a straight-ish path toward the pins.

The indecisiveness of too many choices can be too intimidating when you’re first starting out. You want to be a writer but you have no idea where to begin, what genre to pick, what characters you want to chronicle, what themes you want to explore.

Even if it sits on your computer never to see the light of day, you still got those creative juices flowing.

Pre-packaged worldbuilding

Sometimes all we want is to get to the good stuff. Maybe I want to write a story about elemental magicians but Last Airbender already exists and I just want to play in a pre-existing sandbox. So I write some OCs into that world and have a free-for-all.

I don’t have to come up with my own lore, world history, magic system rules and mechanics, politics, geography—any of it. I get to just focus on the characters.

Even if you’re writing an AU, like say a coffee shop AU, you don’t have to think about brand new characters, you can just think “What would M do?” and go from there. The trade-off is your readers will expect canonical characters to behave in-character, but I think it’s worth it.

Stretch beyond your comfort zone!

Do you hate writing action scenes? Go practice with a shonen anime fic. Need work on dialogue? Write some high-fantasy fic, or a courtroom drama. Practice a fistfight by watching fistfights and writing what you see, and do it over and over again until what you read makes you feel like you're watching what’s on screen.

But beyond that—practice genres that you aren’t super familiar with. If you’re new to fantasy, write fantasy fic. Or a mystery novel/show, thriller, comedy, satire, adventure, what have you. The nature of fanfic still gives you those “guardrails” and you can get some brutally honest feedback on how you’re doing.

And, of course, the realm of M-rated romance and smut fics. I haven’t because I think I would die of embarrassment if I tried and I never intend to include sex scenes in my works anyway, but if you do want to, use the internet as your test audience. Post it on a throwaway account if you’re nervous.

Build that self-confidence!

The fandoms I used to write for are super dead, so it’s insane how I still get email notifications that so-and-so liked my fic to this day. Comments are as elusive as ever, but random strangers on the internet telling me they liked my work is a magical reassurance that my writing isn’t actually awful.

Random strangers on the internet are, as we all know, beholden to no moral obligation to be kind to your little avatar face, or be kind to be polite. So a rando taking the time to like my work or even leave a positive comment can feel more honest than one of my friends telling me what they think I want to hear.

I tend to avoid the more present aspects of fandom like online communities, forums, social media, what have you, so I get a delayed and diluted aspect of any given fandom through completed works. Which means, in general, I get to avoid the worst and most toxic aspects of fandom and get to sift through positive feedback and critique.

Even if your fanfic isn’t written with stellar prose, it’s fanfic. We don’t expect Pulitzer-prize winning content. And if your work isn’t up to snuff, people are more likely to just ignore it than put you on blast (at least in my experience, I never got a bad comment or a “flame” in the old FFN days).

Fanfic doesn’t care about the rules of published literature

On the one hand, try not to practice bad habits, but with this point I mean that your layout, punctuation, formatting, paragraph styles, chapter length–all of it is beholden to no rules. I get as annoyed as the next reader with giant blocks of paragraphs, or the double-spacing between pages of single-sentence paragraphs, but if the story’s good enough I might ignore it.

There’s more than just straight narrative fics, though. People write “chat” fics, or long streams of text and group chat conversations. The scene breaks can come super rapidly–I’ve seen fics with a single sentence in between line breaks to show the passage of time. And without the polish of a traditionally published novel, I’ve never seen a purer distillation of author voice in any medium more than fanfic.

All practice is good practice

Even if it’s crack fiction, or a one-off one-shot, or something meant to be lighthearted and straightforward and free from complex worldbuilding and intricate plots. It really helps break writer’s block when you can shift gears and headspaces entirely and you can get relatively instant feedback to keep you motivated.

Beyond that, the “guardrails” help you stay consistent as far as character growth and personality if you struggle with designing rich characters.

The most recent fanfic I wrote was just a couple years ago, for a dead fandom I didn’t think would get any traffic whatsoever. It wasn’t my original works, but the feedback on that fic gave me the kick in the butt I needed to get back into writing more seriously.

—

In short, I support fanfic. I may not be proud of my earliest fics' prose now, but I am proud that they walked so I can now run.

#writing advice #writing resources #writing tips #writing tools #writing a book #writing #writeblr #fanfic #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 #ffn

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master-k0hga · 16 days

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| X E N A |

[ Category: The Promised Land ]

| Finally got around to finishing her like just over a week ago if I remember correctly.. To which I DON'T!!... But yeah, this is Xena, of course the concept of Karmen having some involvement in her creation/repairs is still there and ofc why wouldn't I do that and why wouldn't I make that one of the main reasons why both her and Karmen WOULD get together jhjhhjhjhjh,,,,

But yeah- Most about Xena is still roughly the same, she's created completely of machinations, Karmen's heavy involvement with her that does become like an 8 or so year project which takes Karmen to at least the age of 25 or so once Xena is officially done. But the difference is that she was actually, although a "incomplete waste of metal", she was an official assassin bot created by the Deceitful before they found someone "better" to take that position.. So Xena was disassembled, dumped and left to rot before Karmen found her one day and decided to take her in and fix her up!

.. Anyways I'll re-type what I wrote in her ref sheet in case nobody can read it, my writing is well tiny and off when I do these and it sucks but oh well:

Info

Age is unknown; Not that the Deceit had any plans to consider her family or whatever

Created by the Deceit to assassinate their targets (or should I say Kira's targets who he p much has beef with)

Gets discarded by the Deceit after they found a replacement to act upon their deeds (of course with a price); After some time being disowned by them Karmen eventually comes into her life, takes her into the small tribe (with mixed opinions rightfully so for a time) and has her fixed up along with a couple other members of the tribe to help with the complete refix

Originally she was just a bot with no personality or anything unique about them before Karmen; Because of the girl's expertise in becoming a mechanic, with lots of different kinds of materials, metals and whatnot Xena was given a face of her own, a personality and eventually even her own freedom to think, speak and do what she can and wishes to do

After some time when she finally becomes her own person, she suddenly becomes both attached and overly protective of Karmen, as Asim is to Caligo; Safe to say Xena had scanned and downloaded data and emotion from the one she considers to be an "inspiration" for protecting loved ones

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

That's the basics of Xena and a bit extra also slight detail to what I've already established in her ref (and I will ignore the minor spelling error or "Assassin" in said bio til I eventually fix that, ofc that'll be done and dusted by the time I post this ref along with the art spam but this is just here in case I DON'T do that... Which is more likely than you think...)

There's not really all that much to say about her other than the usual, she was kinda how she was back in my now scrapped "Kohga Arc" AU where I introduced her to, just only difference is now she's part of her own thing at this point... So just having her here and have her purpose is sort of just there to aid and protect this small branch of Fae (and their mixing with other tribes in this branch, especially since after Asim and Caligo's story)... Anyways-

Extra(s):

Although having been completely refixed with the help of Karmen and her knowledge of technology for such a secluded tribe of magic bearers, Xena within her repaired state does still contain the "decor" of the Deceit, especially that mainly inspires from Kira's signature purples and golds

It was quite the scare for Caligo when Karmen brought this badly dismembered bot that was created by their oppressors, so in no surprise Caligo heavily detested, protested and so on to get that "killer machine" out of the safety of the tribe of the "Sights of the Future", seeing as this same bot (while also being a test run at the time before being discarded) was used in the events of the "Purge of the Defiance" where Caligo and Katsumi's father was killed along with others, friends and family alike of the secluded tribe before they narrowly escaped death. It did take some time persuading and calming them, but eventually Caligo accepts and embraces Xena into their family, especially some time after Karmen completely repurposes her and everything

Xena has no recollection of the previous murders and killings she had committed after her "reboot", so in a sense she's completely new and only has her eyes, wiring and new purpose on protecting Karmen's family, and the future of the Promised Land. However although she is no longer of use to the Deceit after they abandoned her, it seems she still has data imbedded deep in her coding that is still very vital for the Deceit to carry out their plans

Xena isn't just a bot who eventually falls for her saviour, she also has some pretty nifty mechanics and abilities that are built into her metal body; She's got rather super human strength which when it comes to physical tasks that involve heavy lifting are very beneficial, in the palms of her hands she has a mechanic where she is able to shoot from her hands, it's even better seeing as the projectiles she shoots (which are like beams of energy) adapt to whatever climate they're in, and her speed in immeasurable as she can outrun even the fastest

She has her own compendium; Able to take pictures of wildlife, discoveries and so on.. They mostly consists of Karmen, dragonflies and mushrooms however

Her original design she never had hair, it was thanks to Karmen for "spicing up her personality" for donating her own hair to the cause of "Project Xena". Perfectly dyed to match the "Sights of the Future" tribe

Asim appreciates Xena for volunteering to protect his daughter from threats, and especially knowing her presence is putting Caligo's mind at ease reassures Xena quite a lot; Karmen overall has a deep fascination with the "metallic protector" and is heavily implying she is crushing on her a LOT

💙 🤍 💙 🤍 💙 🤍 💙 🤍 💙 🤍 💙 🤍 💙

And that's all I have for Xena for now I suppose, there's not really much else to say or explain further so for now this is all there'll be for her til I either think of more to talk about or when I finally get on with trying to properly adapt this mystical realm.

Overall even though her past is unfortunate as she was built to kill on demand by the oppressing yet oppressed group to take down their enemies, her new purpose definitely redeems her and brings a form of hope to "Sights of the Future", and no doubt their little tribe is in very good hands with not only witch blood to cast magic and spells of protection around them, but also with a skilled dual blade who will some day take over the role as leader, and also a former assassin bot who is now re-purposed to protect them and their families at all costs!

.... It's kinda nice, now this is a found family trope I can get behind! lol..

... I have so many more to get on with and I don't know how I'm not only gonna try making sure so that they all fit rather well in place, but also trynna find ways to make it so it actually works in a way... World building is hard, I'm too exhausted for this....

Oh well, nobody else has any idea about this and this isn't something anybody has I suppose done yet.. Someone's gotta do it!.....

Even if it is just a waste of time in the end...

#MASTER-K0HGA #Ary / Kohga Chronicles #Ary / Kohga OCs and Works #Xena #OC #Female #Fandomless #The Promised Land #Sights of the Future #My OC #My Art #My Character #Assassin Bot #A FORMER assassin bot if you will! lol #Not much else to tag this as other than the usual tags I refer to most of my original art so uh...#Yeah Idk hhghghghhgg #... Anyways... There's so much more to do... I'm nowhere near done at all!#Xena doesn't really have any association with Caligo's step siblings of other personal problems... But no doubt #It Yggdra was able to reunite with them one day.... He'd be weirded out kinda but happy Caligo's family is finding ways to keep themselves #Safe from harm... Especially from the Lord of the Deceitful!... Like...#Kira isn't wrong for feeling such angry towards the ''oppressors''.. Especially the old leaders of the Golden Kingdom since it WAS #kinda their fault... But he's using that anger and hatred to not only take it out on his own people.. But those who were not involved eithe #Harming the whole land isn't going to do him or anyone any good... But he seemed to always be the mischievous type.... So in other words..#He really wanted to cause chaos in the Promised Land didn't he...?... Things were too peaceful... He needs chaos!#... Anyways that's enough out of me... He isn't some big hunky btw. Kira is actually kinda sleazy lol... But he's a threat don't be fooled!

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mayordoi · 3 months

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Riliane Lucifen d'Autriche

ive been wanting to make fanart for mothy's seven deadly sins series for a while and now i'm finally taking the dive. so the next few posts will be completing these series of illustrations of the characters :) started off with rin's character cuz i feel like the daughter/servant of evil is where a lot of us got introduced to evillious chronicles hehe

excited to see the little collection all come together and i hope you are too

~~ by the way!!!!

5 people have indicated on a poll that they would be interested in coloring pages of my art, and i thought i'd do just that! at least as a little test. so here are some lineart files of the piece~

psd file - should be compatible with photoshop and ibispaintx definitely. probably compatible with other programs like csp but i haven't checked 😅

procreate file - procreate throws a fit when you try to import psds so i had to make it separate just in case 🫠

this is the first time officially releasing these so im not sure how to go about it?? again it's sort of a test, i'll figure things out. just be aware that the lineart is more gritty/textured so filling colors with a bucket tool might be a little wonky.. but i'm sure that's fine

some terms when using these coloring pages :)

don't remove or obscure the watermark. you can move it, but make sure it's visible in some way

when posting, make sure to credit me (mayordoi) for the lineart

if you post on tumblr or instagram, tag me or let me know somehow cuz i wanna see em!!

again not fully sure if there's a big audience for these but i like the idea of coloring pages so why not release my own! and yes the rest of the sin characters will also have coloring pages released in a similar style :]

#mayor doidles #fanart #vocaloid #evillious chronicles #evillious fanart #akuno p #aku no musume #daughter of evil #kagamine rin #riliane lucifen d'autriche #digital art #regular style #<- again my tagging system for my 'styles' is kind of a mess i'll have to fix that soon #art #artists on tumblr #vocaloid fanart

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jordanelemus · 11 days

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ybc musical costume in-depth analysis! 💥🎸🎱

hi! I'm jordan, the costume designer (and also an actor and co-writer) of "the young blood chronicles" musical! i posted this on instagram, but i thought it might be cool to post it here too!

my initial role in “the young blood chronicles” musical was costume design, which, as a fashion enthusiast, i was incredibly excited about. i spent about a month curating a huge pinterest board collection and creating individual moodboards. the show takes place in 2013, but i wanted to take inspiration from both pre and post-hiatus fall out boy looks! here’s an in-depth look :’)

patrick’s main inspo was his “soul punk” era, which lives distinctly in the hiatus. i wanted something that would remind us that years had passed since the last time the band had made music together; something cool and trendy, but a little too dressed up for a long day in the studio. even when not onstage, ybc patrick is performing. clothes can give you power and he knows that. the yellow sunglasses were our way of getting around patrick’s glowing yellow eyes from the music videos, but i really love how it makes it seem like he has a mask on. it makes the end of “miss missing you” even more heartbreaking.

pete’s main inspo came from both his early clandestine drops as well as his more androgynous looks (both pre & post-hiatus). pete really cares about fashion, but he still has a chill la vibe. 2013 pete could often veer more edgy, but i chose to move in a different direction in order to better distinguish pete and patrick’s styles. unless you’re a vixen or patrick, you don’t get a leather jacket! sorry pete! to me, pete’s fashion has always felt so current while still being forward-thinking. ybc pete’s outfit could be from 2006 or 2024 and that was very purposeful!

andy’s looks are mostly pulled from more recent years, but band tees never go out of style. the mesh top under the tee alludes to his tattoos, which make up the extent of his stage looks these days since he typically does shows without a shirt on. celia had this mesh top in her closet and i love the colors on her (it’s the only source of color in the heaven outfits!). andy’s outfit is maybe the simplest of the four on paper, but i think it’s sick. it’s laid back, but super specific and grounded. it makes me want to start wearing basketball shorts.

joe’s looks are pulled from both pre-hiatus and early post-hiatus looks! striped sweaters & cargo pants are things he’s worn before, so i'm lucky i had them in my closet (especially since i wasn’t originally joe!). joe, especially in recent years, really likes wearing dark colors onstage, but, similar to how i avoided leather jackets for pete, i wanted to very clearly differentiate the boys from the vixens. any black piece of clothing on any of the boys had to be broken up with a design or pattern. no all black outfits! sorry joe!

the goal with the heaven outfits was to make the exact same outfits in all white. i wanted the exact same silhouettes as before. i’d say we were pretty successful! we got really lucky when it came to finding these costume pieces.

my vixens! these costumes were a lot more nebulous throughout the process. many of the costume pieces came from the actors’ own wardrobes. it was really important to me that each vixen had her own distinct style. baylee’s vixen (whom she named blair) has a more feminine style, her main costume piece being a lacy leotard. she's sweet with an edge. ava’s vixen is second-in-command & her outfit really screams that. the lingerie top is so killer. alexa’s vixen is almost a mix of baylee’s & ava’s in terms of style. the outfit is sweet, but edgy with the ripped tights & lingerie-style top. lauren’s vixen is a little more utilitarian, actually dressed in a way that makes sense for kidnapping four people. she’s more sporty than the others, but her combat boots are incredibly threatening. hbic is all that and more. her outfit is simple, but powerful. she is terrifying.

tiffany had to feel a bit like an outsider. she’s wearing the vixen clothes, but her jacket has some color on it. it’s a little too big on her. the other vixens really live in & embody their clothes, but for tiffany, it's a bit more like a costume.

here’s how i describe the angels: 1) the hottest girls at the ren faire & 2) like that picture of the angel guiding the two kids that every latine family has in their house. they almost feel out of place; so incredibly fluid in a show that is mostly made up of harsh lines. texture and layers were really the name of the game here, but the angels still have an edge to them. to quote fob: “…angels choking on their halos, get them drunk on rose water. see how dirty i can get them, pullin' out their fragile teeth & clip their tiny wings.”

+ i made pete’s bass machete and tiffany’s/joe’s guitar axe! i don’t have much to say about them, but i loved getting to utilize my cosplay foam skills.

this was my first time ever costuming a show and it was such a dream. the entire cast was so willing to experiment with me and it was such a joy to revisit aspects of 2013 fashion, which i remember from my preteen years, but never got to truly participate in! :’)

- jordan <3

ig: @/jordanelemus

photos: @/cararittner on ig!

#ybc musical #young blood chronicles #fall out boy #save rock and roll #musicals #musical theater #patrick stump #pete wentz #andy hurley #joe trohman #i love fall out boy literally so much #ybc #costume design #theatre #fob

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skyeslittlecorner · 4 months

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Belphegor brainrot...?

I wanted to put together all crumbs about Belphie just like I did with Asmo.

We know Nilfheim is a something like a military hive mind. Nobles use swords or other melee weapons (the scythe is somewhat included in this), and since consistency is usually maintained, plus Bathin has a uniform resembling a soldier (we will talk about uniforms later), let's very roughly assume that it is, to some extent, a knightly country.

Okay I'll be honest, I'm just amused by the idea of Belphie as a mixture of Sleeping Beauty and a knight on a white horse lol.

I don't have a screenshot unfortunately, but Satan during Halloween event said Beplhie don't like tedious work (even if it's just a signing.) Expected. He's embodiment of sloth after all.

Actually, I can relate.

It looks like Gusion and Bael could shake hands. But Belphie is there, he really does a lot when he's out of his cave. It is not without reason that it is said that lazy people are the best employees because they will get the job done in the fastest way.

Looks like his Majesty is flirty! A big point in my opinion, because for me he seemed cold and distant. I was afraid that we would be too similar to Leviathan, but I guess that's not the case.

He doesn't sound like this decision bothered him at all. I don't know how to interpret it, so I leave it here out of chronicler's duty. And to please the eyes, look at my pretty boy!!!

But... that's it. That's all. So, I have found a related topic to rabmle about.

Nilfheim boys what's wrong with you?

We only know two, only recently three of them. Gusion, Bathin, Andrealphus.

And I guess they have a different definition of military than us.

Two of the three are like, "hey, have you seen that unicorn in the green cloak? This one who is never in his country? Great idea!" and yeeted themselves from Nilhfeim.

He just. Randomly visited Earth. Because why not.

Honey, you don't. Although… you're the devil. *Hands AO3* Have fun!

We are fresh from Andrea's escapades to Avisos. We know that he spends a lot of time there and from the screenshot above we also know that he doesn't really need things like his king permission to be happy.

Considering that Bathin is friends with Stolas...

...aka his personal radio, I'm sorry I can't get over this lol, it is very possible that he also often visits Avisos. Beel, you are tempting nobles from the next country and you are not even in your own country.

Bathin? Andrea? I understand that in a sentence "The devils of Niflheim almost never move individually" you are the "almost". Two of the three known. A known majority. They are hopeless.

And you know what? The third one isn't any better.

Yeah. Who in a MILITARY COUNTRY would wear a uniform. Well, no one normal. Let's get back to those uniforms, this time for real.

We already know that Gusion doesn't bother with such bullshit, so we don't know if what we actually see is the one times he wears something he should wear all the time. (I guess we do and he just doesn't have a jacket.)

Bathin has a uniform, but it's from Paradise Lost. It is possible that his appearance refers to this and not Nilfheim, as we know that other devils associated with foreign countries, especially Buer, but also Sitri, have appearances related to the latter country.

Andrea seems to be the most reliable. But who knows? He wanders where he shouldn't, do you think he would care about his uniform? Plus… A wing? And a halo? Exactly.

Ultimately, I would lean towards uniforms of nobles that look like hitmans. Just like someone described Andrea in the event.

At least one thing is right. The devils of Nilfheim are unnaturally strong, even by their standards. We all remember how Andrea abused every angel in his path. Even the big guy who seemed to break him like a match. No, the big guy was shaking like an aspen under his feet as Andrea happily dismembered him. As we can see, Gusion's sword also proves his strength.

Even some of Nilfheim's lower devils seem to have great fighting skills. Not all of them, of course. One is a fish.

We have the least information about the countries of Asmo and Belphi, but we have some coherent idea about Abaddon thanks to the nobles. Nilhfeim? Nope! Funny country. I can't wait to visit it.

#whb #what in hell is bad #whb belphegor #whb andrealphus #whb gusion #whb bathin #whb theory #whb nilfheim #overanalyzing #I am impressed by everyone who reads this spam of mine #mwah a kiss for you

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