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joshym · 1 month

Text

Muse

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Summary: Your struggling artist is desperate for some inspiration.

Word Count: 3.4k+

Warnings: smut (18+ ONLY), unprotected p in v, oral (f! receiving), a smidge of sir kink, some spanking, a lot of fluff because i can't help myself, Jake draws a naked portrait of you (let me know if i've missed anything)

a/n: special thanks to this lovely anon for this brilliant idea. this was way too much fun to write.

this was inspired heavily by that scene from the Titanic. (you know the one.)

as always, thank you to my favorite editor/motivator, @jakeyt.

i hope you enjoy. ♡

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

His frustration is palpable, evident in the nearly incessant huffing emanating from behind the closed door of his studio.

It's moments like these that leave you feeling utterly helpless. There’s nothing you can do, no inspiration you can provide that will pull him from his artist’s block.

He's been holed up in there for hours, since the early dawn, lost in the depths of his imagination, sketching away. You know better than to intrude; he's never been keen on sharing his work until it's finished.

In fact, he's never once allowed you a glimpse into his creative process. "It's the strange doodlings of a mind overrun with ideas. It's not to be seen until it's in its final form," he's reminded you countless times when your curiosity gets the better of you.

Still yet, you're consumed by the desire to witness his beautiful mind in action, crafting masterpieces in real-time, each stroke flowing from his soul through his tireless hand on his Somerset velvet sheets.

But, like any artist, he’s his own worst critic. He’s never truly satisfied with anything he creates, though you are left utterly speechless after each piece he finishes. His mind is a beautifully profound chasm of endless wonder, manifested through his artistry.

You hate when he has these moments of doubt, these instances when he questions whether he’s truly capable of such greatness.

And you especially despise days like today, when he spends the better part of it feeling as though he has a mental brick wall in the way of his ingenuity, hindering his hand from bringing to life what his mind so desperately longs to conceive.

Commissioned pieces, like his project today, always hold the most weight for him— from the need to earn a living, to his persistent worry that his art might not meet the expectations of the client.

It’s not that he doesn’t love doing them, or that he’ll ever stop taking them; quite the contrary, they’re his favorite pieces to work on. They provide him with an added pressure that elicits some of his best work.

But, reaching that point can be rather strenuous for him. It can at times take days, weeks before he discovers the creative impulsion he needs.

And right now, he’s in that very rut, awaiting the surge of inspiration that will reignite his dulled spirit.

There truly is nothing you can do when he’s lost like this, and any effort you’ve attempted in the past has always proved useless.

The one thing you can do, however, is prepare him some dinner.

He’s hardly left his studio today, and you know he’s not eaten much, if anything at all. Perhaps a morsel of sustenance will ignite the dormant embers of his mind.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

After a quiet tap to the door, he invites you in with a serene voice.

He looks tired, but lovely as ever. The golden hour has officially set in the sky, and the opened curtains on the windows have allowed for a warm hue to encompass his studio, enveloping him in its delicate lume.

“That smells absolutely divine,” he remarks as you enter his studio, his plate and yours delicately balanced in your hands.

“I figured a little homemade pasta would do you some good,” you tell him while you pad across the floor to his work station.

With a sly disposition and a playful glint in your eye, you aim to steal a glance of his day-long project, but alas, you’ve been caught. Your sweet Jake misses nothing.

"Not yet, my love," he murmurs, flipping the page over as he takes your hand, planting a tender kiss over your knuckles. "You know the rules."

“I know, I know.” Your response holds a bit of remorse. You know better, but can’t begin to help the relentless desire to see his mind at work.

Setting his dinner on the desk he’s working from, you move yourself across the small office to the green chaise lounge that sits across from him, silently seeking his permission with your gentle glances. The smile in his eyes tells you that he’s more than happy to be graced with your company for the time being.

After taking a bite of the spinach tortellini you prepared, he unbuttons his white striped shirt, removing it from his shoulders and stretching his arms high above his head as though he’s ridding himself of the weight of his frustrations.

You can’t help your glare, watching him do something so normal yet so intriguing all at once.

His skin is velvety smooth, his chest rising and falling with every breath he takes, his chestnut wavy locks sitting atop his broad shoulders. You’re in awe each time you look at him; the sheer magnitude of his beauty never fails to steal your breath away.

And his necklace, his most cherished piece of jewelry that he wears each and every day. The precious coin, a relic salvaged from a centuries-old shipwreck that hangs against his chest.

The way it sits on his bare skin is nothing short of elating, sexy. It’s a wonderful addition to his already captivating aura.

He’s flawless. Everything about him.

Once he catches your gaze, he responds with a sly wink, eliciting a blush that paints your cheeks a bright shade of pink.

Then, a thought begins to swirl around your mind for a brief moment. One that you’re shocked you’ve not conjured until now.

The vision of the pendant against his bare skin sets your own imagination alight.

“I’ve got an idea,” you propose, your voice soft and sultry, trying to pique his interest even just a little, something that may help the rusted wheels of his mind turn at full capacity once again.

While his focus remains on his work, his right eyebrow arches ever so slightly, and you catch the hint of a grin daring to curl in the corners of his mouth.

“And what might that be, my dear?” he asks with an unknowing, devilish smirk.

As you get up, he hastily flips the page back over to hide his work from you once again.

“Don’t worry,” you say as you move behind him, placing your hands on his bare shoulders. “I won’t peek.”

You glide your fingers along his skin, feeling the subtle rise of each goosebump in the wake of your gentle touch.

He hums inquisitively as you delicately take hold of the clasp of his necklace in between your index and thumb, undoing it in one fluid motion before slowly slipping it from around his neck.

“Be right back,” you say as you head towards the door. “Don’t move.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he responds, a myriad of questions splayed across his features.

With light steps, you make your way down the wooden floors of the hall towards your shared bedroom. Hanging on the back of the door is your sapphire hued satin robe, adorned with a delicate lace detailing along the hem—the one Jake has always fawned over.

The satin drapes coolly against your skin as you slip it on, wearing nothing underneath, save for the weight of Jake’s necklace resting against your chest that you hide beneath the fabric.

You run your fingers through your hair, adding a subtle tousled look, before applying a light blush to your lips and cheeks to impart a bit of natural color to your complexion.

And with that, you're poised and ready.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

As you turn the corner to face his studio, you see a very weary version of your Jake. His head sits in the palms of his hands, his leg bounces up and down at a rapid rate—a clear sign of the mental battle he’s waging.

This is as good a time as any for your little idea, and you’re hoping that it’ll be the very thing he needs to find some much needed initiative to keep going.

“Hi, baby,” you venture, leaning your body alluringly against the frame of the door.

As he looks up, a familiar twinkle dances in his eyes—a sight you've longed for all day long. It's a glimmer that tells you he's rather fond of the vision before him.

“And what exactly is your idea?” he inquires softly, slowly standing from his chair. But you stop him, motioning for him to stay just where he is as you saunter towards the chaise you were seated on just moments ago.

“My idea,” you begin, making a very slow, deliberate attempt to untie the sash holding your robe together at the waist. “...is for you to draw me.”

As if your thought has affected him physically, his posture immediately straightens, and his once tired eyes hold a renewed sense of life as they watch you intently.

“I want you to draw me wearing this.” You reach into the lapel of the robe, retrieving his coin that now hangs from your neck. “Only this.”

Your robe suddenly falls to the floor, revealing your fully nude figure that was hidden beneath.

“Oh…” he utters, his tongue wetting his lower lip before tucking it between his teeth. “You can’t do this to me, baby. I can’t look at you like this an–”

“Consider it a commission,” you interrupt, tracing your fingers lightly up and down the skin of your torso. “And when you’re finished, if it’s to my liking, you’ll receive a full payment.”

With a raised eyebrow, his gaze sweeps up and down your form, while his index finger lightly grazes his chin.

“You’re quickly becoming my favorite client,” he quips, wiping a stray bead of sweat away from his forehead, tousling the front of his hair in the process. “Consider it done, ma’am,” he continues with a confirming nod of his head.

You lay yourself down on the forest green velvet cushions, positioning yourself sensually across the chaise. Your body is turned slightly to the side, your leg gracefully crossed over the other, an elegant display of your curved silhouette.

The warm glow that is so beautifully cast upon Jake, is now cast upon you, the aura laying over your nude body like a golden blanket of light.

“Is this okay?” you ask him, draping your arm over the back of the chaise, making sure the coin sits meticulously atop your chest before your other arm falls to rest against your body.

He simply grins while nodding his head, his eyes drinking you in, a mix of surprise and desire evident within his expression.

“Yeah, that um…that’ll do just fine,” he tells you, the slight crack in his voice eliciting a smile from you, a break in his professional facade.

With a deep breath, he takes his prized Faber Castell 9000, carefully sharpening the tip just a bit before putting it against a blank sheet.

And then, as the true artist you know him to be, he begins without a hint of hesitancy. The gentle sound of the lead scratching away at the paper fills the quiet room— a sound you’ve come to cherish, a sound that signifies his craft is steadily blossoming to life.

He seems charmingly nervous, his hand gently brushing against his nose every so often between a series of strokes from his pencil, clearing his throat more than usual. His eyes flint to you, then back to the paper, then back to you, a succession of his adoration and determination, ensuring that the likeness captured in his art closely mirrors your essence.

You try to keep your face composed, a seductive allure about your features. But as you watch him, immersed in his passion, the way he’s studying you so intently, it becomes nearly impossible to suppress the beginnings of a smile upon your lips.

But despite your efforts, he takes note of the curve adorning your flushed lips, mirroring it with his own. “Relax your face for me, beautiful.” The soft rasp in his tone is enough to send a blush throughout your whole body.

Breathing in your nose and exhaling through parted lips, you’re able to reclaim your composure enough to steady your expression.

Every moment you share with him is a brushstroke of beauty, but something about this one stands out. The intimacy of it all, how he must diligently study every inch of your form to convey your image through his art, the intensity behind his focused gaze…your heart is racing in your chest, despite your relaxed demeanor.

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

With the sun almost hidden behind the early moon, he completes the final stroke.

He lays his pencil down, gently blowing on the paper to remove any stray lead before he picks it up, examining it closely while he walks it over to you.

As he holds it out before you, allowing you to at last see his craft come to life, you’re left entirely awestruck.

“Oh, Jake.” The sight before you leaves you nearly breathless. It exceeds every expectation, beyond the boundaries of your imagination. It’s a portrayal of you, but not just that— it’s how he sees you.

It’s the first time you’re witnessing yourself through his eyes, and in that, you feel a profound sense of beauty within yourself that you’ve never known.

“Do you like it?” He asks, a slight tremor present in his voice.

“It’s…incredible, Jake.”

Propping yourself up a bit, you carefully take the drawing from his hands, poring over his vast attention to the detail in your face, your body.

Specifically your breasts, how perfectly he depicted their round curve above your rib cage, encapsulating the fullness and allure of them.

You’re entranced by the way he drew the contour of your hips, how he captured the dip in them that you’ve always looked at with disdain, yet in his portrayal, you’re able to see the beauty in what you’ve considered a flaw.

He encapsulated everything, even the faint freckle beneath the curve of your left breast, and the mole under your belly button. He managed to immortalize all the intricate nuances that you typically overlook.

“Is this what I really look like?”

“Yes, but,” he takes the drawing from you, placing it on the mahogany table beside the chaise lounge. He helps you lay back down, gently caressing your face that he’s just conveyed through his artistry as he props himself above you. “The essence of your beauty defies any depiction.”

Then, his lips envelope yours in a kiss so fervent, so ardent, as though he’s waited hours to finally have you within his grasp.

His hand moves with a swift grace to your breast, fingers toying with your perked bud. This erotic moment with him has you already so flustered, so sensitive to every touch of his hands.

He breaks his lips from yours, only to land them down the column of your heaving chest.

“You’ve no idea how hard it was for me to look at you like this, to look at these,” he mumbles against the tingling skin, hands kneading the flesh of your breasts. “And fight the urge to come place my lips on every inch of this beautiful fucking body.”

And just as he said, he bestows tender yet hungry kisses down the length of your torso, maneuvering his body down the chaise lounge until he kneels before you. He nestles his face perfectly between your thighs, his warm breath tantalizing your wet center from his dangerously close proximity.

“I certainly hope you don’t let all of your clients pay you like this,” you mutter, breathless and yearning for his mouth.

“Only the ones that tickle my fancy,” he says, his words adorned with a playful wink before he delves into you.

He laps away at your pulsing cunt, like he’s been starved for your taste this entire evening. The lewd, lascivious sounds he’s emitting from between your legs only serve to heighten your need for him, causing your back to instinctively arch away from the plush cushions.

And when his lips envelop your throbbing clit, his tongue swirling around it inside his warm mouth, your body trembles and shudders. A rush of warmth encompasses you, starting from the depths of your core, the pit of your stomach, spreading to every inch of your being.

You surrender to the intoxicating bliss, your breath catching in your throat while your heart pounds in a crescendoing rhythm.

He guides you through it, gently holding your hips in place while the movement of his tongue slows in perfect time as with the ebb of your climax.

“Oh, that was so beautiful, my love.” He lovingly kisses the inside of your thigh before he stands, removing the belt from his patchwork jeans. “Turn over for me, baby.”

“Yes, sir,” you quietly utter as you obey his demand, knowing good and damn well what that specific name does to him.

Just as he commanded, you turn your body over to your stomach, placing your elbows against the arm of the chaise, your back arched as much as you can so that your ass is sticking up just right for him.

“Love when my sweet girl calls me that,” he purrs before his belt hits the floor, his jeans and underwear quickly in tow and freeing his impossibly hard cock.

“So, what’s the verdict, my love?” You feel the cushion sink in behind you as he settles himself between your legs, his right hand caressing your hip while the other teases your soaked cunt with the tip of his cock, leaking with precum. “Was my work to your liking?”

You giggle breathlessly, poking your ass out even further as an offering to him for his hard work. “Yes, I believe you’ve earned your reward.”

He steadily begins nudging his cock into you, going slow at first, allowing you to fully adjust to him.

Inch by thick inch, he fills you completely to the hilt, your breath catching in heavy gasps that are robbed from your lungs as he buries himself deeply within you.

Your nails claw at the velvet armrest as his thrusts quicken in their pace, your upper body nearly going limp as you’re no longer able to easily hold yourself up.

His hands hold a firm grip at your lower waist, pulling you into his cock rhythmically, yet becoming more and more disordered as he’s beginning to lose himself to the pleasure.

You cry out a slew of obscenities mixed with his name, begging him to fuck you harder, faster.

Without question he complies, landing an open palm against your ass cheek. “So good for me baby,” he hums, his thighs slapping against the backs of yours as he drives into you just the way you need. “So fucking good for me.”

With one more vigorous thrust of his hips, you feel that familiar rush throughout your whole body as your cunt throbs and pulses incessantly around his cock.

“Fuck, I feel you, baby. Pretty little cunt squeezing me so tight.” You feel the twitching of his cock inside of you, an indication that he's on the very brink of his own release.

“Cum inside me, sir. Please…need you to fill me.” Your voice is faltered, your body still reeling from your second climax.

“Jesus,” he groans, moaning exasperatedly as your words have him spilling within you, filling you with his warmth just as you requested.

He stays buried inside of you as he catches his breath, feeling his release slowly trickling down your thighs as you struggle to fill your own lungs.

You have to fight the urge to protest when he begins pulling himself away from you, not yet ready for the empty feeling he leaves you with.

You practically collapse against the cushion, your body exhausted in the most enthralling way, the kind of exhaustion that only immense amounts of pleasure can bring forth.

“My sweet, beautiful girl,” he whispers, kneeling himself before you as he softly caresses your flushed cheek.

You kiss the pad of his thumb as it crosses over your mouth, summoning the strength to lift yourself up enough to steal one from his lips. “I hope it worked,” you say, gently cupping his face in your hand.

“You hope what worked, my love?” He asks, leaning into your soft touch.

“I was hoping this would help inspire you.” You reach for the drawing, savoring its beauty once more. “I was hoping I could help inspire you, pull you out of your moment of doubt.”

“My love,” he murmurs, setting the portrait back down before he gently brushes his lips against yours. “You inspire me endlessly, every single day.”

His tender smile warms your very soul as he leans in for a deeper kiss, imbued with all the love you could ever want for.

“You’re my perfect muse,” he utters against your lips, “I don’t think I’ll ever get enough of you.”

.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.⚘🀢⚘.

a/n: suffice to say, this inspired the hell out of me when i've lacked inspiration/motivation lately. thank you, anon.

if you have any juicy ideas, feel free to send them my way. ♡

love you guys.

taglist: (let me know if you'd like to be added/removed!)

@jakeyt @objectsinspvce @stayinginthesun @sinarainbows @stardustcordzz @klarxtr @ohgodthefeeling-gvf @highway-tuna @way-to-go-lad @reesetrippingthelight @jakesgrapejuice @sacredjake @notthedroidz @kiszkashousee @psychedelicstardust-gvf @jjwasneverhere @gvf-ficreads @stardust-jake @gretavanbear @gvfmelborne @sirjaketkiszkasharmonica @jaaakeeey @neptune2324 @jaketlove @myleftsock @joshskittytickler @audgeppp @jordie-gvf @gretavansara @gretasfallingsky @jazzyfigz @louiseecraigg @hippievanfleet @blacksoul-27 @sarafrusciante2 @heckingfrick @citylight-delight @electricgoldtendercare @musicspeaks @hollyco @gvfpal @dannys-dream @josh-iamyour-mama @edgingthedarkness @earthgrlsreasy @hernameis-heaven @mackalah @gvfmarge

Masterlist

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #jake kiszka fanfiction #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka fluff #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet smut #gvf fanfic #gvf fics #gvf smut #greta van smut #jake kiszka #greta van fleet

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epiicaricacy-arts · 7 months

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taking places

more fatui lyney ft. arlecchino bc unfortunately i am obsessed and also have been listening to early p!atd songs once again hehe haha

read the “behind the design” for my fan design here

close ups

sketch + rough colour map

very short process discussion utc because for once i have very little to say!

this one kinda came outta nowhere. i was just doodling some angles and i turned one into lyney and not long after i found myself drawing my fatui design again 🥲 the premise was totally on accident though since the angle the face was at meant his hair covered the only visible eye and i didn’t wanna restart

nothing too special style-wise either. i just wanted to do some painting so i didn’t put much thought into composition as i usually do. wanted to experiment with some greener colours since green is a color im very unfamiliar with and i saw some art on pinterest with very limited palettes that had green in them. i noticed that for drawings under really bright lights the artists tend to lean towards green, which is cool!! i hope i pulled that effect off, i think i did pretty well with this piece 👍

misc notes would just be me experimenting with limiting my rendering, meaning i put details in the shadows and tried keeping the bright areas relatively flat. originally arlecchino had her jacket but i took it off since it was too complicated ☹️

also i have no idea how i pulled off that one sleeve with the frills and i’m very pleased with it. 👍

thank you for reading expect some horrors soon 🫶

#my art #fanart #genshin impact #genshin fanart #genshin lyney #lyney #arlecchino #genshin arlecchino #artists on tumblr #small artist #digital painting #illustration #genshin fontaine #fatui #digital art #art

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ian0key · 2 months

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TMA AU (TimSasha Lives) P.5

So...my TimSasha Lives au also became a Gerry lives au? Yeah.

. . .

This happens the day before the end of s3. Things were much calmer than in The canon. Everyone decided to go very early to rest after preparing everything.

Sasha checked one last time to be sure before returning to Tim's apartment, thinking she was the last one left in in the archives...

Designs:

(End!SASHA)_ (Desolation!TIM)_ (Jon)

Part 1 , Part 2 ,Part 3, part 4

Extra: some references, sketches, etc.

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dhampling · 3 months

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the tailor's smock (astarion x reader)

“You know what the problem is. We all know what the problem is. Hunkers Boolean across the street knows what the problem is. Do not make me say it!” - inspired by the prompt 'let’s get you out of those clothes' from this list sent to me by @kikistarstuff! thank you - i took a slightly different direction with it but I hope you enjoy! w/c: 1,023

Eventide ripples through the Upper City.

Church bells - scintillant, joyful. A provincial hum weaves amongst lavender-laden window boxes and bread left on cooling sills for the evening air to swallow. In places the sky still blushes through a deep crimson pink but nightfall quickly arrives as it always does.

You’re awake early, by all counts.

Astarion bristles as he works. His leg bounces, and the chair doesn’t quite sit even on the board flooring of your townhouse. The little knocks form a steady rhythm.

You stand astride his tailor’s podium in an almost-complete garment. He’ll lift his eyes to survey you every few moments as he sketches.

“Coffee?” You mumble.

He stays frozen for a moment - deep in thought elsewhere - before quickly collecting the tankard from his desk and delivering it into your chilled hands.

“Sorry, my sweet. I’m just-’

A sigh

‘I’m a little lost with how to finish it.”

His pallid hands drag over a now-long face. He spins slowly in place and lets out a long groan.

“You had a plan at the beginning, no? What happened to it?”

What began as a routine addition to your everyday wardrobe - an overall-style frock, nothing grand - now hangs as a genuine blockade between Astarion and doing anything remotely useful. Stitching seams only to later rip through them, selecting which buttons would best compliment the straps of fabric over your shoulders then switching at the last moment, drawing vague silhouettes in a heavy journal and showing them to you in flustered breaks. Torn pages balled in the corner of the room.

He looks at you with an incredulous tut. A fiery flick of his lashes.

“It clearly wasn’t a very good one, was it?!’

You’re tired of the garment now. Any want to wear it was discarded alongside the first five iterations of the dress; and you’d rather simply go and sit among the blankets in the den with a book. Maybe a fresh cup of coffee.

‘Don’t roll your eyes at me! I’m doing this for you!”

His arms gesture wildly to the dress, eyes frantic. He looks insane.

You meet his gaze in a tired standoff. The energy from both of you runs wholly parallel, and in entirely different directions.

You refuse to meet his angst with anything remotely similar. Your brain can’t compel itself to make this an argument, no matter how much you might want to.

“What is the problem here? Really?”

You remove the few remaining pins from the garment. He sighs once more.

“You know what the problem is. We all know what the problem is. Hunkers Boolean across the street knows what the problem is. Do not make me say it!”

In all seriousness he flounces to his chair and sits pensively, leaning over the desk with elbows resting; head in hands. You stifle a snort.

“What are you on about?!”

A sip of coffee. A frustrated borderline-yowl. The bells continue to chime on beyond the window. The bristle of a late wind.

“I can’t even make an overall! An overall!”

You draw the corners of your lips cheekward in a closed grimace.

“Love. With the best of intentions, please do not let the fact you can’t make a smock get you this upset.”

He looks up at you. Rolls his eyes.

“So you do know I can’t make it. Why didn’t you say anything earlier?”

“That is categorically not what I meant.” You chide, putting your tankard on his desk and tapping him on the arm lightly.

“I’m completely and utterly useless then, I suppose.

Astarion drawls. A child seeking attention.

‘A basic smock. Beyond the ability of my wretched spinster hands.”

“I suppose you are.’

He looks up.

‘Useless, that is.’

Gormless. Too tired to be witty, just a blank stare.

‘I suppose I’ll just have to find another prospect who can make me my own personal smock collection. It is my greatest wish, after all.”

It takes a couple of minutes of nothing for him to respond. You watch the streetlamps glower in the new dusk, the stray cat pottering onto nearby roofs; one of your neighbours collecting their washing for the night.

“Hah!’

He smacks the desk lazily and rests his head on the wood for a moment. When he lifts his eyes are heavy-lidded. A roguish daze. The quirk of a smile.

‘I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

The grimace returns. You nod.

“Really, properly stupid.”

The clientele Astarion desires in his new business venture aren’t the kind who are buying regular overall-type garments. They visit the tailors for their finery; not middling homewear.

“I was doing it for you. I really was.’

He pushes his chair back and stands, crossing the few steps to where you stand adjacent.

‘You look so homely in this kind of thing. It’s-’

He pauses. Tilts his head from side to side. Errs.

‘- sweet -’

With another step forward his hand moves to your cheek in a soft, revering touch. All tension melts from his face

‘And I thought it’d make you happy. Being able to bustle about our little house in something so mundane, knowing I’d made it just for you, to be able to do so in comfort.”

His forehead meets yours in a worn stupor.

“You’re silly. I hope you know that.’

You meet him in a tired coffee-stained kiss; his own relinquishing their well-worn mirth.

‘Plenty of time for that. For you to make me all kinds of beautiful things. A whole lifetime, even.’

Another kiss. He gives a fanged grin against your lips. Bliss.

‘But right now, I am desperate to go back to bed.”

His arms snake around your waist, hands grabbing your sides in a weighty adoration.

“Now then treasure - that’s something I can get behind.’

He gently moves his kisses down to your neck, pressing against your weary frame with an intentional rut of his hips. Every part of him emanates a sleepy desire and you can’t help but feel heady at the thought of returning to your shared bed. Your lover.

‘Come now. Let’s get you out of those clothes. I fear we have new plans this night.”

#astarion x reader #bg3 #my writing #astarion #request #x reader #fluff

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dearheart42regenerated · 10 months

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MOTORCITY SEASON 2 MASTERPOST

once upon a time, over 10 years ago, just a few months after the announcement that Motorcity was officially canceled...the creators of the show took pity on their heartbroken fandom and gave us several glimpses of what season 2 might have been like. they saw how much we loved Motorcity and gave us every scrap of info they could at the time, so that we could use those scraps to imagine our own personal "Season 2" - whether it continue on in our fics, our fanart, or simply our own heads.

I'm making this masterpost so that none of this material will be lost or forgotten, and so any fanartists/fic writers still hanging around today can use it for inspiration. if there's any related material I've missed, PLEASE feel free to add it in a reblog or let me know in my inbox! I want this list to be as complete as we can make it! :)

The Season 2 That Never Was: A Comprehensive List

Motorcity Season 2 Rough Intro "Scratch audio by our very own Chris P." (x)

youtube

-> backup download

Season 2 Writer's Wall posted (and later deleted) by @chrisprynoski on twitter, and shared on tumblr by @peopleofmotorcity, these pictures of the writer's wall showed us a "rough sketch" of what could have been, and gave our imaginations SO many fun theories and possibilities to play with. every blurry sticky note was a treasure to us. :')

-> original tumblr posts: x x x x x x x x x x x x -> image masterpost -> google drive folder

Chris Prynoski's Fan Interview + Tumblr Q&A's this whole interview on youtube is a delight to listen to, and Part 2 in particular has some interesting bits about season 2. (skip to 17:10 for some good stuff about Texas and Chuck's backgrounds!)

youtube

-> Part 1 -> Part 2

Chris P also answered several juicy season 2 questions on tumblr. sadly his blog is deactivated now, but you can still read through all of them at the links below!

-> image masterpost -> google drive folder

Capri Chilton - Mike Chilton's long lost big sister! I can't remember where or when it was first revealed that they were considering giving Mike a secret older sister, and I haven't been able to track down the origin. that being said, when it was revealed, the fandom loved the idea so much that they begged the creators to make it canon. Chris P busted out the "magical canon stick", gave us this delightful concept sketch, and "Capri Chilton" was born!

The Motorcity Series Bible (Pages 1-13) "To help you all understand what it is you are reading, this is the material that Titmouse used to help pitch Motorcity, and it was also a tool for writers to use when coming up with episodes to help understand who the characters were before there was any other reference. That being said, this was one of the very first documents about Motorcity, so many things have changed or evolved from these early concepts." (x)

-> original tumblr posts: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 -> image backups -> PDF download

Motorcity Series Bible - Redacted Version (Pages 1, 2, 17, 19, 20) funfact: @peopleofmotorcity was the official? unofficial? tumblr blog for Motorcity, and it was run by a guy named Mac - an animator for the show who loved to tease and joke around with the fandom. before revealing the actual first 13 pages of the series bible, he posted this censored version as a prank - a mix of truth and trolling! it's up to the fandom to decide which is which. ;)

-> original tumblr posts: 1 2 17 19 20 -> image backups -> PDF download

so far this is all the material I have about season 2. but if I find more, I will add it here! :)

#motorcity #motorcity season 2 #mike chilton #capri chilton #julie kane #chris prynoski #peopleofmotorcity #Youtube

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y-umiko · 2 years

Text

TOKYOREV BOYS WHEN THEY FOUND A SKETCH OF THEMSELVES, DRAWN BY YOU - Drabbles

CHARACTER(S): Bonten WARNING/S: none :P Request

a/n: sorry, it took so long. first time writing for Takeomi and Mochi.

Mikey was never the prying type, but when he saw the canvas-like notebook among your things, one he saw you always scribbling in during meetings, curiosity got the best of him. he flipped through the pages of the book, the content have him being entranced as early as the first page. sketches of the Bonten executives linger on every page, the details exquisite as it can get, among those sketches he found himself. It was not weird to find himself among the others but seeing that majority of your drawings were him, mostly sketches of him eating dorayaki or dozing off during a meeting, either way, you manage to find and capture an innocent side of him, completely different to his current dark life. a small rare smile spread on Mikeys' lips as he continue to flip through the pages, but despite his attention completely drawn to your sketches he didn't miss the way you entered the room, followed by a gasp as he turned to look at you. and if Mikey thought your Sketches were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, your flustered self was even more alluring, with rosy cheeks and an awkward smile as you fidget with the hem of your shirt. suddenly bowing as you apologized for drawing him without permission. gently closing your sketchbook before making his way towards the exit behind you, Mikey passed by you but stop midway as if thinking about somehing before slightly glancing back at you.

"come with me, we should discuss your new position as my 2nd secretary"

Sanzu scans the sketches you drew once more, a hum of approval escaping his lips as he spins around on the chair, your chair. he was just supposed to drop some document on your table when he accidentally found your sketches, and instead of being a good person, Sanzu chooses to pry, opening the sketchbook as if he owned it. as soon as he flips it open, Ran's face was what he saw, earning a scowl from him, flipping to the next he saw Rindou, Koko on the next. frustrated he flipped through the entire sketchbook, every page filled with his team members, and not a single sketch of him. he was so close to flipping and complaining at you when he happen to stumble to another sketchbook, after rummaging your desk, which he aims to apologize to you later. the new sketchbook was filled with only his portrait, raging from sketches from when he was fighting to his serious face as he discusses something with the others, either way, you manage to capture all his best sides and the fact that you dedicated a whole new sketchbook just for him erases all his earlier frustration. Sanzu can't help but take a selfie of one of your sketches of him and sent it to you with a very cute caption.

"I should just steal you from Koko and make you work for me"

Kakucho silently and seriously scans the document you handed him, courtesy of Koko, it was just a financial report as usual nothing out of the ordinary, numbers after numbers yet as he flips through the next page a cough immediately escapes him, his face feeling rather hot. somehow a sketch of himself was mixed among the report, his name clearly written on the bottom with unmistakably your handwriting. the paper was a little torn but still intact, and despite it all - the sketch was so detailed that he easily identified himself, the cute doodle of the heart on the edge of the paper sending his heart into a frenzy. Kakucho is known to always have a stern or serious look on his face making him seem cold, even he knew that. yet the sketch you had drawn him depicted him with a small smile, making him appear kind. he melted inside. that day, instead of his secretary, Kakucho personally returned the documents to you, making sure you received them before quickly scrambling away with a rather red face. and to your surprise, you found the sketch you made among the reports and before you can pray that he didn't see it, you fond words were neatly written on it.

"meet me later at the bar across the street - Kakucho "

Mochi had become more conscious of his appearance ever since Ran randomly blurted it out to him that you've been sketching the members. he was doubtful at first but after catching your gaze one time before quickly scribbling down into a piece of paper had him correcting his doubts that the very next day he showed up dress-up more than usual. Mochi was so conscious that whenever you're in the same room as him he becomes stiff as he overthinks whether he should pose or not for you. this goes on for a few more days, the sudden change in his personality exhausts him and after a very meaningful and serious talk with Takeomi, he decided to just confront you about it. and sure enough, he found you sketching once more, with his powerful stature, towering above you had him freezing on the spot as you look up from your curled up form, his eyes catching the sketch you were currently doing, the person on the sketch unmistakenly his.

"So I heard you drew me…any chance I can see it over a cup of coffee?"

As much as Ran was amazed by your drawings, he was more astonished by your embarrassed state as you stood in front of him, face red, and avoiding eye contact as he smirks at your predicament. much like Sanzu he accidentally stumbled upon your sketchbook as he decided to forgo privacy and search your desk for some stapler but instead find something more valuable. he can't stop his lips from grinning as he flips through every page to find his portrait from various angles, only frowning when he found sketches of his fellow executives. but he was too lost to the high to keep lingering on them. his favorite of them all was his half-body sketch, you captured even his downturned eyes-his short hair that is styled slicked back even his earing, you captured down to every detail. although almost looking perfect there was one minor detail he notice, his tattoo stretching from his nape and collarbones down to his torso was lacking, possibly because of the fact that you haven't seen him without his shirt-which, he quickly propose a solution to you when you walk in with him grinning from ear to ear, your sketchbook on his hand.

"so how about it? drawing me like one of your french girls?"

Rindou already knew you were drawing him, it was hard not to when he always caught your stares during meetings, your wandering gaze coming up to his face as if memorizing every detail of his face and Rindo always felt warmth shot to his cheeks every time. when he would ask you, you always deny it claiming you were taking down notes. so when he caught you in the act, he didn't let the chance slip by. a satisfied, annoying smirk playing on his lips as he snatches the sketchbook away from you, he was ready to tease you or give a witty remark. but upon a closer look at the sketch drawn on the blank canvas, his black and purple hair standing out and bringing the whole sketch into life had him getting speechless. the familiar warmth creeping up his cheeks as he opens and closes his mouth, not finding any words to say. Needless to say, he love it very much that he also got you many more sketchbooks with a clear demand.

"Only fill them with my portrait"

Kokonoi has always been curious about what you've always scribbled, the sound of the pencil running across the paper always reaches his ears whenever you are around. his interest skyrockets when you refuse to show him the book when he asked for it, even though you work for him. he had no choice but to catch you off guard one time and sneakilly snatch the sketchbook on your desk. to his surprise his pair of black eyes stare back at him, his white hair flows with so much detail that it looks so real. the sketch itself shows the elegance of his lifestyle, the jeweled earing he was earning, the gold chain hanging on his neck, and even his favorite expensive bottle of wine in the background. he can only fathom how much time it took you to draw him and makes him wonder of other possibilities you can do, he didn't waste any more time as he staked the whole hideout to find you and make a very tempting offer.

"how much do you want for it?"

Takeomi always felt your stares, but when he would turn to look, you would already be buried in your sketchbook, eyes focused only on the paper in front of you. Takeomi is smart but he had no evidence so every time he would suspiciously narrow his eyes at you. and somehow he manages to take hold of one of your sketches of him, thanks to his strong connection with the Bonten members. he huffs a puff of smoke, a cigarette between his fingers, as his eyes focus on the sketch you made. the most noticeable on the portrait was the scar running down his eye, though many claims it made him look scary, somehow you manage to capture it in an angle that made him look more serene. was this how you see him? Takeomi didn't waste any time looking for you, quietly handing you the now folded sketch, a small smile decorating his lips as he watch you curiously unfold the paper, a look of recognition passing your eyes before your face grew red. you were about to fold it back and bury it somewhere he will never find, but he was faster as he quickly took hold of your hand to stop you and stood almost threateningly in front of you, a smirk on his lips.

"I didn’t know Koko's little secretary thinks of me that way"

#tokyo revengers draken #tokyorevengers #tokyorev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo revenger x reader #bonten x reader #mikey x reader #sanzu x reader #kakucho x reader #mochizuki x reader #ran haitani x reader #rindo x reader #kokonoi x reader #takeomi x reader #bonten rindou #bonten kakucho #bonten sanzu #tokyo rev fluff #tokyo revengers rindou

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ubejamjar · 16 days

Text

B A S I C S

Name: Ajisai Kawanami

Nicknames:

Aji - Thancred and Alisaie

Aj (not AJ) - Aymeric occasionally in private frequently if they are both inebriated

Little star - Parents. Ajisai uses this as an endearment for children.

Age: Early 30s

Nameday: 7th Sun of the Sixth Astral Moon

Race: Raen Au Ra

Gender: Female

Orientation: Bisexual

Profession: Healer, Warrior of Light

P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: Naturally straight and deep blue, with lavender at the ends. She keeps it short as a matter of practicality and she doesn’t really know how to care for long hair. It grew out between Heavensward and Stormblood but she cut it just before going to that first meeting in Gridania.

Some kids taught her how to braid and she’s been doing it ever since.

Eyes: Orange-citrine with black limbal rings

Skin: Copper, think Southeast Asian; her scales are white

Tattoos/scars: Ajisai has many, many scars that she keeps covered because she wants to look respectable. One does not simply live a life as a soldier, pirate, and hero and avoid scars. I haven’t decided exactly what scars she has because I haven’t looked into putting them on her.

F A M I L Y

Parents:

-> Kana Kawanami Mother, samurai, former rice farmer and sake brewer, Doman Resistance Fighter.

Currently: Alive and fighting on the Gyr Abanian border under Lord Hien’s command.

-> Tatsuo Kawanami Father, geomancer, former rice farmer and sake brewer, conscripted Imperial healer, presumed dead.

Currently: Alive in Dalmasca (maybe?)

Siblings: None, though she thinks of Lyse, Alphinaud and Alisaie as her little brother and sisters. She adores Thancred as a brother, Y’shtola as an sister.

Grandparents: Murasaki Grandparents: Samurai who lived in Monzen; Kana's estranged parents. They died fighting in the rebellion. They never knew that Kana married, had a child, and lived in Namai.

Takemura: A priest at Shisui who raised Tatsuo as his own son. He was old already when Tatsuo was a child and long dead by present day.

In-laws and Other: The Fortemps: She treats them as extended family though their relationships are complicated. Despite Edmont's fondness for her, Ajisai feels he still holds her responsible for Haurchefant's death.

She is unmarried and unattached though she has romantic feelings for Aymeric (which I wrote an essay about)

Pets: None at the moment

S K I L L S

Abilities: Marksmanship - Great with a gun; refuses to use one ever again

Field Medicine - Aside from her healing magic and botanical knowledge, she is trained in Garlean combat surgery.

Life Sketching - Likes to draw everything she sees in her journals. She carries two at any given time -- one is personal, the other is meant as a gift for Aymeric but who knows if she’ll ever actually give it to him because she wrote a love letter in there.

Hobbies: Reading, specifically books about law and history; astromancy and divination; tea making; drawing; talking entirely too much to strangers; ruin diving; research into ancient civilizations

T R A I T S

Most Positive Trait: Compassion She genuinely cares about the people around her— she wants to do the most good she can do for as many people as she can. It isn’t just about penance, she likes seeing people happy and well.

Most Negative Trait Healing Hubris After years of harsh study and field training, Ajisai believes herself to be the best healer to the point she will not trust other people to heal herself, her companions, or loved ones. She spirals whenever she’s forced to confront the possibility someone might be beyond her abilities (like Haurchefant)

L I K E S

Colors: Summer sky blue, plum purple, lavender

Smells: Cinnamon and clove, sugared pecans, vanilla lavender, freshly baked cookies, pine needles, campfire smoke

Textures: Rough paper, plush blankets, river smooth stones, soft fur

Drinks: Ishgardian tea, hot cocoa, warm milk with honey and cinnamon

O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: Only to be social

Drinks: Only drinks with Aymeric or alone. She drank heavily after the Vault, along with her sleeping potion use.

Drugs: Used sleeping potions to force herself to sleep and was considering using more… illicit substances to numb the pain before she started napping in the Congregation.

Mount Issuance: Story-wise, Ajisai didn’t join a Grand Company. She just.. wouldn’t leave one military to join another. She took porters and aetherytes until she got Pillion from Haurchefant. She calls him Pillion because Haurchefant said she could ‘ride pillion’, not realizing ‘pillion’ referred to the passenger behind the rider.

Been Arrested: Yes, probably for disturbing the peace in Limsa. Many tavern brawl taken too far, maybe some petty theft and other minor crimes before she got her shit together.

Tagged by: @paintedscales ❤️

Dragging these people into getting arrested with Ajisai: @oh-yeah-no @otherworldseekers @corsair-kovacs @amalthea-felsblood @thewitchofelpis @thevikingwoman @disciple-of-frost @viiioca @sasslett @gatheredfates @pumpkinmagekupo @starres-stuff @khaiens @aislingsurrow

If you were already tagged, consider yourself double-tagged or triple-tagged or—

#tag game #ajisaijar

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shineonyoucrazyyandere · 29 days

Note

Hello, I hope you don't mind if I share a weird headcanon of mine 👉👈

I normally see people talking about Kakyoin make drawing about you but what if Jotaro does that too? The reason I have this headcanon because I remember the scene when Jotaro using Star Platinum drawing the fly he saw in the picture, and he draw it so well. It makes me think that maybe Jotaro has talent in art too. Jotaro's style will be realistic style while Kakyoin will be more like cartoon/anime style.

Imagine their sketchbook filling with so many drawing of you 💕 Jotaro will watching you from afar, sketching you with your cute smile, your beautiful eyes, he captured it all. For Kakyoin, I think he will even make up characters (oc) that look like you and him and ship them together lol (this headcanon inspried by my friend, she actually do that with her crush).

Thank you for reading my ramble, glad to talk with you :D I would love to hear your thoughts about my weird headcanon

P/s: Love you writing so muchhhh 💝

This is fun stuff, I could eat it up all day. Thanks for sending it in, so I can blabber my mouth about it

This always internally bugged me so I’m very thrilled that someone brought up how well Star Platinum drew that fly. I suppose it’s kind of easy to gloss over for a lot of people compared to Kakyoin’s scene of painting on that canvas. (Then again that fly was kind of important to identify to figure out where Dio was so then again it’s “???” for an explanation)

Anywho, I’d say signs point to Jotaro being able to draw, and I think it’s a hobby he prefers keeping to himself. Like you said of him having a sketchbook, almost no one sees what he draws in it and he doesn’t want anyone else to see it especially if it’s various sketches of you. So more than likely when he does do so, he’s somewhere where he won’t be pestered by school girls, or whatever punk tries to start a fight with him.

I’d also like to think he goes back and lingers on prior stuff, just staring at it for a little while. This applies usually when you’re out of school sick (which he’ll probably stop by later anyway with or without your knowledge). But there’s something comforting about seeing every piece of your visage in his sketchbook. Literally no one else knows about this sketchbook aside from maybe Kakyoin (Holly has her suspicions he takes a sketchbook around but she smiles not pestering her son on his hobbies as she thinks it’s adorable).

For the most part art wise I think Jotaro sticks to traditional art, maybe a dabble of charcoal but he prefers pencils. Maybe watercolor if he ever went beyond, but traditional with pencil/pen is the easiest way for him to pull something out at his leisure. Would he let you see? Maybe eventually when he gets you where he wants you, or if the cat is out of the bag early and you see it and you’re not quite with him yet. Let’s just say seeing that may speed up him taking you.

Kakyoin I could definitely see diving into the oc type of thing, he’d certainly reference an artstyle of a manga you like. (Don’t ask how he figured that out so quickly). Though he definitely loves putting some passion into his artwork and occasionally shamelessly make sultry artwork of you and himself. He loves painting the most as he spreads colors, mixing them into the wondrous hues that is your skin tone. Or splashing watercolors in a notebook, that looks something out of a fairytale. Soft and warm lighting….oops he’s getting a tad bit excited.

He definitely presents pieces that are obviously meant to be stand ins for the two of you. That no one else would ever be wiser too, yeah you might have this odd feeling something’s not quite right, but there’s nothing there you could really prove other than observe just how pretty the composition is. If you compliment it, that just fuels this man’s desire further.

Biggest takeaway here is Jotaro and Kakyoin very blatantly have their own styles whether sticking with black/white/grey, or full on color. Both would be pretty in their own right, and their style choices speak of their personalities without saying a single word.

#yandere imagines #yandere jjba #yandere jjba imagines #chitchatwithcrazyyandere #yandere headcanons #yandere kakyoin #yandere jotaro

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pix3lplays · 10 months

Note

so uhmm im really love the hsr being fathers like damn i love it so much so uhm can the readers child like cuaght the hsr griefing over our death and the child comforts them? can it be the same guys from before? *virtual hug* tysm

*Virtual hug back* yes, let’s do it!!!

More Hsr men being fathers hehe

Part of this!

-Honkai Star Rail men grieving reader when their child comforts them-

Dan Heng: Dan Heng is going through your records in the archives, his child in his lap, sleeping peacefully, at first. It is late at night. Dan Heng can’t help it, rereading your files, on the fifth anniversary of your death…it brings tears to his eyes. He accidentally wakes up his kid, who looks up at him with those big eyes that look just like yours.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“I’m…I’m fine,” Dan Heng reassures his child, stroking their hair a bit while he tries to stifle his tears.

“You’re crying though…”

“No, no, I’m not,” he insists, wiping his tears away and giving a warm smile to his kid. “It’s late. It’s time for bed…”

His kid yawns, protests just a little bit, before promptly falling asleep in his lap again. And he scoops them up and takes them to bed, thinking of what it’d be like to do this parenting thing with you by his side, and not alone. But it’s okay. You’re gone, he needs to accept that. He’s doing this for you, and for his kid.

Welt Yang: is looking through an old sketchbook he had started with you, looking back at your cute, amateurish doodles next to his, that you would draw when he wasn’t looking. And they had always made his day to see you’ve broken into his sketchbook to add a few additions of your own.

“You look sad, Dad,” he hears the little voice of his child, looks up. He hadn’t heard them walk in front of him. “Why are you sad?”

“Not sad, just…nostalgic,” Welt corrects. Okay. Maybe he was a little sad, and missing you. But he’d still use the word ‘nostalgic’ over sad.

“Come look with me,” is what he says, and he sits his little kid on the cushion next to him and holds out the sketchbook.

They go through the sketchbook, and the word ‘sad’ seems to grow a little bigger for him. Yeah. He was sad. He missed you so much. Missed your doodles in his sketchbooks. Wished you were here to help him raise your child. But you weren’t. And that was OK. That happens.

And to be honest, sharing your sketches with your kid was beginning to make him feel a little more relaxed.

Jing Yuan: is stressed out in his office. He’s swamped with work but all that’s on his brain is the anniversary of your death. He thought pushing through and going to work would help him get through it. Thought that it’d be better to be productive than cooped up in the house and mourning. Well, he was wrong for the first time in a while. He always did make bad judgements when it came to you…you always did distract him.

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of tiny footsteps running his way. And he’s met with his kid, excitedly holding a drawing they’ve done.

The kid suddenly screeches to a halt, and Jing Yuan observed them with confusion for a second.

“Dad!? Are you crying?”

“Hm? Oh…I suppose I am…” and he wipes away his own tears, apologizing.

“What are you crying about?”

“I miss someone…”

“Who?”

“Someone dear to both of us…but let’s not worry about that, let me see that drawing of yours…”

And the issue is immediately forgotten by the child, who excitedly shows their dad their most recent creation. It’s good for him, he thinks, to have such young and precious life around him. Helps him keep his mind off the pain of losing you.

Sampo Koski: Didn’t really have a lot of time to grieve you. He was suddenly thrust into parenthood as soon as you were dead, after all…But business was slow today, and he could get home early, and spend some time thinking about his dead lover and the child you left behind for him to deal with.

He’s in the kitchen, pouring himself a drink, when his kid comes home from playing with the neighborhood kids all day. The life of a kid, even in a place like the Underworld, was just too easy, he thinks to himself bitterly, sipping at his drink.

“Dad…you…okay?” his kid asks quietly.

“Yeah…yeah just thinking.”

“You need anything?”

Was his kid always this considerate? They reminded him of you.

“No. Thank you…”

His kid smiles, gives him a thumbs up, and runs to their room. And oddly enough, Sampo feels a little better.

Gepard Landau: Gepard is looking through an old photo album he made with you, before you…passed. He’s crying. He doesn’t realize he’s crying while he looks at a photo of the two of you on your wedding day.

“Dad?” he hears. And he looks away from the photo album suddenly, and down at where his kid is.

“Yes?” he tries, trying his best to sound calm and quiet and in control, and not like he was just crying.

“Want to…play with me? It might make you feel better?” his kid suggests, holding out a stuffed animal.

“Oh, kiddo, I-” but the more he thinks about it, the better the idea sounds. “Alright. Let’s do that. It sounds fun.�� He let’s his kid drag him to the floor so they can play with stuffed animals, and the pain of using you fades just a bit for the moment.

Luocha: Luocha is working. Working restlessly. He’s always working. But tonight he misses you, misses you a little more than usual tonight. He grips his necklace tight. Keeps working. When there’s a sudden knock at his door. “Father?” a little voice calls.

Luocha sighs, doesn’t realize how shaky his voice is til he replies. “Come in.”

His kid steps in, looks surprised, because their father was clearly crying and Father Never cried.

“What do you want?” Luocha asks, wiping at his eyes. His kid comes over, puts their little hands on his knee.

“Please stop crying Father…”

“I know, I’m trying…”

“It’s my bedtime.”

“Ah, so it is…want me to tuck you in?”

“Yeah…”

“Alright, fine.”

Luocha doesn’t usually tuck his kid into bed. But tonight he needed the distraction. He takes his kid to their room, tucks them into bed. The tears have stopped. He feels a little at peace, acting like a normal father, tucking his kid into bed.

You’re still on his mind of course, but at least he’s not crying over you anymore. Tears were pointless anyways, they didn’t help anything. It’s not like you were gone forever anyways. He was going to bring you back.

Blade: it’s been some time since your passing, and Blade has been resisting the need to grieve way too hard. It was unhealthy. Finally Kafka strictly told him he’d better go to your grave and get anything remaining out. And he reluctantly agreed, not aware his kid was following behind him…

He just…waits quietly at your grave, watching over it like a silent protector when he suddenly feels a tug at his pant leg. And when he looks down…lo and behold his child had followed him to the grave.

“What are you doing, Dad?” the child asks with big, innocent eyes.

“I’m…visiting…” is what he manages to say, before gesturing to your gravestone.

“Oh…” the kid says, not really understanding, but knowing that this is a quiet and serious moment. “Okay…”

And father and child keep watch quietly together over your grave, and it actually makes Blade feel a little bit better to be doing this with his kid. It’s just a Little bit more bearable.

#honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #my writing #Dan Heng #Dan Heng x reader #Welt Yang #Welt Yang x reader #Jing Yuan #Jing Yuan x reader #Sampo Koski #Sampo Koski x reader #Gepard Landau #Gepard Landau x reader #Luocha #Luocha x reader #Blade #Blade x reader

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