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britcision · 2 months

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I have been possessed by dark visions at 3AM for two nights in a row again so y’all enjoy this I guess

Why can’t these demons invade Ryoko Kui’s mind she can draw

Anyway Mithrun and Fleki both deserve to bite people way more and fuck psychic types Mithrun’s entire pokemon team is different Woopers and a single Clodsire it is his destiny

Warnings: mild physical violence, blatant attempts at emotional manipulation, the Canaries are not letting their captain go if they can help it

AO3 link for the full series:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54634867

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After Dinner Mints - The Plan

It was Fleki’s plan, which was never a good sign. Otta was the first to call it a fucking stupid plan, but had to admit that she didn’t actually have a better one.

(This being the main reason Cithis wasn’t the first to denounce the plan. Well, that and the backup being “set Cithis on the Queen or at least some high ranking official”.

Which was an even worse plan, because even though Canary convicts couldn’t do magic without permission, Cithis specifically wasn’t even allowed her staff within the capital’s city limits. She’d beaten the supposed restrictions far too many times.)

The good news was that they had six weeks at sea to lay the groundwork, and see if they could come up with a better plan. Or bail, if the current plan seemed unlikely to work, and come clean.

No one wanted to bail and come clean.

Luckily, the groundwork was simple, and they could get started right away. Once they were far enough from port that the squad could safely be on the deck without being in a sailor’s way, the four convicts gathered to a spot conveniently near where Pattadol was standing at the railing.

It didn’t really matter what the warden was doing; they all had a grand total of one job until the ship landed: keep out of the way. And Cithis had Mithrun duties.

Otta picked the spot, settling nonchalantly to lean against a stack of well secured crates where she could pretend not to have known Pattadol was even there. They had to be a little louder over the creaks and groans of a sailing ship, but that just made it easier to be “accidentally” overheard.

“So Fleki, why did you ask the Captain not to talk to the Queen after all?” She called. Lycion, leaning just far enough to see their “hidden” warden, gave the rest a discrete thumbs up.

Fleki sighed dramatically and threw herself to the deck, top of her head poking just past the stack.

“Oh, come on. You heard what he said, he wants to stay in Melini hunting monsters forever! That’s a worse sentence than prison! And he wouldn’t even pay me, at least I get something doing this shit.”

“And the chance to fly,” Lycion cut in, nudging her with a foot until she shifted to the left a couple of inches, “that’ll be in short supply in prison.”

“Hey, you heard Captain Flamela. We’re all looking at reduced sentences, especially dying in the final fight. I’m gonna be out in like, a hundred years tops and then I’ll be free and clear,” Fleki retorted, casually sending her familiar to sit at the top of the stack.

She couldn’t fully go into the bird, not and keep up a full conversation, but she could borrow its eyes if she didn’t need hers.

Cithis was pretending to ignore the lot of them, like she couldn’t have done that literally anywhere else on the ship. When Otta and Lycion began mugging furiously at her she rolled her eyes and sighed, examining her nails.

“Yes, being confined to some backwater country is far worse than whatever a reduced life sentence would be,” she said dryly, not bothering to sound anything but bored.

Otta flipped her off with both hands, but Fleki actually laughed, flailing in her general direction.

“Fuck off Cithis, you’re gonna be in prison for what, five minutes? Captain Mithrun’s the only person who’s ever kept you from doing exactly what you want,” she pointed out loudly, and Lycion hesitated.

Snuck another glance towards Pattadol and gave the ladies another thumbs up. Cithis shot him a withering look that he completely missed, then kicked at Fleki’s hand equally half heartedly.

“Oh, I’m sure our ever so wise wardens will notice that and they’ll have an incredibly well thought out plan,” she said flatly, raising her voice a little when Lycion made some frantic upwards gestures. “After all, our good captain is a war hero and has chosen his retirement; they can’t tie him to a prison simply to keep a single prisoner contained.”

“So you’ll be out of there or running the place in five minutes, maybe fifteen?” Otta asked sweetly, and Cithis chuckled. Tried to do it again, louder, when Lycion made another vague gesture.

“Twenty at the outside. I certainly won’t be wasting my time touring a backwater like Melini,” she declared archly, making an incredulous face at Lycion as his gestures suddenly became faster and more frantic, and much less discernible.

Abruptly he held up both hands and the group fell silent, Fleki focusing more of her attention into her familiar. Then Lycion sighed and relaxed.

“She’s wandered off. Possibly to go narc on us to some of the older wardens,” he added thoughtfully, head cocking to one side.

Cithis shrugged.

“What she does on the ship matters very little. And it’ll save us from having to re perform the pantomime for them too,” she pointed out with a sigh, flicking her hair back off her face.

Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side and examining Cithis thoughtfully.

“For real though, why are you in on this plan? I mean, you probably could get out of any prison they put you in, I heard how many times you were sentenced to the Canaries.”

Lycion looked over, equally curious, but before Cithis could compose some kind of dignified answer Fleki had snickered, reaching over to catch at the bottom of her skirt and yank.

“Because then she could never go see Captain Flamela again, she’d always be a wanted fugitive,” she teased in a sing song voice.

This kick was not half hearted. Nor did it make Fleki regret a single word, more’s the pity.

***

After some heavy debate they decided that once a day was probably often enough, if not a little too often to make an attempt. By the second week Otta had declared that to be far too suspicious; Pattadol no longer looked surprised to be coming across them “coincidentally” in weird corners.

Once every other day, for sure. And time to try a new tactic. There were only so many ways they could loudly declare accompanying the captain to be far worse than a prison sentence.

Which was why Cithis moved them on to pointedly discussing the captain, which they could at least do at regular mealtimes without seeming suspicious. Captain Mithrun never ate with any of the squads, but someone had to bring him his food every time, so it was a natural topic of conversation.

Most of the squad were seated by the time Pattadol arrived at the mess, clutching her bowl and looking uncertainly for a place to sit. The Canaries didn’t tend to eat with the ship’s crew, there just wasn’t enough space in a single room, which with their larger complement meant the room was both full, and entirely Canaries.

The ship usually carried at least three squads; they’d been loaded with four to tackle the Island’s dungeon, and on the way back Cithis had managed to persuade Flamela to switch her squad onto their ship (by asking. Once. And threatening a fate worse than death on anyone who commented).

Which meant that of the six “tables” made of well secured crates (the mess being a storeroom that the Canaries and off duty crew got access to to, once again, keep them out of the way), there should have been plenty of space for all eight wardens on board to sit together without having to associate with their convicts if they didn’t want to.

But Flamela didn’t like the other wardens. Or all five of her current squad’s convicts, to be fair. Flamela didn’t like many people, but she liked her convicts more than the other wardens, so she insisted the squads sit together. For “team cohesion”.

(None of which explained why Flamela would sit next to Cithis if they happened to be the first to eat, or why Cithis could eat wherever the hell she pleased, but it worked for their purposes.)

Which meant that if Flamela was at dinner, Pattadol could sit with her squad’s four convicts, or risk the captain’s temper if she noticed. It wasn’t like she was all that comfortable sat with the other wardens anyway, so her indecision didn’t last long.

Cithis raised a pointed eyebrow at Otta, who rolled her eyes and skulled the last of her thick stew, then stood and grabbed Captain Mithrun’s bowl. She tapped Pattadol’s elbow on the way out, pointed her to the other three, and waved the captain’s stew as an excuse not to actually talk.

Pattadol hurried to join them, darting a quick last scan to clock Flamela and the other captains. She still didn’t actually greet them, because even her first dungeon run hadn’t fully knocked her head from her ass, but Fleki deigned to give her a quick wave.

And then kept going like they’d actually been talking before she arrived.

“That’s a thought though, who’s gonna feed the captain when we’re all in prison?” She asked Cithis, still mostly ignoring Pattadol.

Cithis arched a brow at her, taking a delicate bite of the hard tack accompanying the meal.

“That’s not going to be my problem, is it? Besides, he does well enough between missions,” she pointed out coolly.

Lycion snickered, pointing his spoon at her.

“He does well enough when he’s somewhere stable, with a routine. Running around chasing monsters is gonna be more like dungeon busting than that, he’s going to need someone to remind him to eat.”

Both he and Cithis turned back to Fleki, who raised her hands quickly.

“Hey he’s rich, he can totally hire like, a chef or something. He’ll probably need a whole party anyway, it’s not like just me on my own would be enough!”

“Not like you’d be staying sober,” Cithis sniped with a sly smile, and Fleki stuck her tongue out at her.

“Oh like you’re a teetotaller. Besides, I can’t cook for shit. Lycion, you did better with that whole noodle making thing, you should talk to him if you’re that concerned,” she added quickly, kicking him under the table.

Lycion pretended to consider it, then shrugged.

“Sorry Fleki, demons or no demons, I’m still on a life sentence. It’s not like I can stop having an illegally modified body,” he said with a decidedly smug gesture to the tattoos on his bare chest.

Fleki stuck her tongue out at him too.

“Hey, being released on parole to the captain’s gotta count. It’s not like you can’t take care of him, at least you actually know what he needs! Some stranger’s only gonna fuck it up!”

“What do you mean?” Pattadol finally cut in, her curiosity getting the better of her. The three convicts shared a significant glance, then Fleki sighed, tossing an arm around Pattadol’s shoulders.

(Pattadol immediately shrank away.)

“Right, I forgot, you’ve only been with us since we got Cithis. Still, you know what it’s like taking care of the captain, right?” She poked, releasing the younger elf to grab her hard tack and submerge it in the stew.

Pattadol frowned into her own bowl, then up at the others.

“Well, yes. It’s not that hard, he needs to be reminded to do things more, but…”

Fleki started snickering into her bowl and Pattadol’s cheeks flushed, her grip tightening on her spoon. Lycion cut her off with a gentle smile, shaking his head.

“It’s not too hard when he’s on leave, or on the ship with a routine; remember, Fleki, we had Kabru in the dungeon too, Pattadol’s never seen how bad the captain can get.”

“We were in there all of two days before it was all over anyway,” Cithis added with a roll of her eyes, then turned a sweet smile on Pattadol. “Even I underestimated quite how bad it would be. We were very lucky to have Kabru with us; it’s usually much more of a struggle even to persuade him to eat.”

It was probably a mark of how quickly Pattadol was learning that she didn’t noticeably relax at Cithis’ smile, which Fleki and Lycion had to grudgingly respect. She did calm down a little more though, looking cautiously between the other two.

“How bad could it really be? He won’t be in a dungeon in Melini, just tracking the monsters…” she hesitated when Fleki suddenly groaned, dragging both hands down her face dramatically.

“Oh fuck, that’s a good point! They probably won’t even think to make him take breaks, he’s just going to ride into town to restock and go straight back out. If he remembers to restock at all!”

“They’ll make him restock, Fleck, unless he gets that dwarf cook to go with him whoever he hires is going to need to eat,” Lycion pointed out, then smiled at Pattadol again. “You know how we have to use the sleeping spells or potions to help the captain sleep?” He asked innocently.

Pattadol looked between them, visibly more concerned although not necessarily at them. Which was what they wanted.

“Yes…” she said hesitantly, and Lycion nodded.

“He doesn’t just lie down for them in a dungeon. You have to combat-cast to get him to sleep if he thinks there’s a demon nearby,” Cithis cut in, sighing with expertly performed delicacy. “What? There’s no point sugar coating it; you did see him when we had to stop for rations, teleporting every few feet. He gets… tetchy.”

“He gets pissy,” Fleki said bluntly, waving her spoon, “and if he thinks there’s half a chance he can order you to let him go until he passes out he’ll try it. He can’t even tell when his mana’s low, we all saw him carving the dragon.”

Pattadol actually winced at that, frowning down into her bowl. The convicts exchanged another meaningful look.

Then Fleki sighed and dropped her spoon into her empty bowl.

“Whatever poor bastard he hires is gonna be completely screwed.”

“Kabru will be in Melini, perhaps he’ll help again?” Pattadol asked half-hopefully, and the convicts exchanged looks again. Then Lycion shook his head.

“Kabru’s not going to be leaving the capital if he can help it; he’s finally got a chance to never see another monster again, and after Utaya…”

Pattadol blanched and stared back into her bowl, shoulders hunching.

“Right…”

Fleki gave her a cheerful pat on the shoulder, rising and grabbing her bowl.

“Hey, aren’t you heading back that way too? Maybe you can get a pixie and call in to check if the captain’s still alive like, once a week or something,” she said cheerfully, leaving before Pattadol even turned.

Cithis rolled her eyes, finishing the last of her own food.

“Well, he won’t be your problem either, warden. I’m sure you’ll be busy with diplomatic relations,” she added with a sly smile, and Pattadol’s pale cheeks flushed again.

“Y-yeah… right…” she didn’t seem interested in looking up from her bowl. Lycion and Cithis exchanged thoughtful looks, then both shrugged and left her to it.

Best to let her mull that over. They still had plenty of time before they landed, anyway.

***

As the fifth week came to an end, they were beginning to run out of angles to try. And no one had any better plans.

Well, Cithis was up to something with Flamela, but she refused to say what and Fleki insisted it was an illicit affair, not anything actually useful.

Flamela set Fleki to scrubbing every deck on the ship, so she was also less available for planning, which Cithis refused to pretend to be sympathetic about. Or even not to be smug.

They had one last idea, and not long to put it into action; if coming clean was their only option, they needed time to talk to an increasingly morose Captain Mithrun, maybe Pattadol, and at least one more warden willing to vouch for one of them.

Given that every single warden on the ship had two to three convicts already contemplating them as options to avoid prison, it wasn’t an attractive concept. So it was time to pull out the big guns.

(Flamela was probably Cithis’ backup plan; none of the captain’s three assigned convicts were unwise enough to so much as frown her, but it was pretty much assumed among the entire ship that Cithis wasn’t going to prison. One way or another.)

Fleki and Lycion took charge on this one, “casually” wandering into Pattadol above decks while Cithis took Captain Mithrun for his daily airing.

(That was getting harder too; usually the captain was compliant as a doll outside of a dungeon, but the closer they got to land the more sullen and argumentative he became. He didn’t even want them to talk at him, glaring at anyone who came near him and telling them all to leave him alone.

None of the squad paid him any mind; no one else dared look in his general direction. Which didn’t matter, since he only left his room when he was dragged out.)

As usual, they pretended not to notice her at first, watching Cithis gently guiding the captain around and between the other Canaries.

“I’m going to miss him,” Lycion suddenly said, resting his chin in his hands and propping his elbows on the railing. It actually sounded like he meant it, and Fleki hesitated for a moment before she caught sight of Pattadol further down the railing.

Setting her familiar into the rigging above them to signal Otta, she nodded and leaned up against Lycion.

“I know what you mean… I’m kinda worried about him. He’s tough, you know, but that just means people who don’t know him don’t realise that he needs help.”

“You could always ask him to talk to the Queen again,” Lycion pointed out, flicking a finger at her without looking her way.

Fleki sighed and shook her head, running her gloved hand through her hair.

“I mean, I could, but it’s not like I can do all that much on my own? He doesn’t listen to me like he does you or Cithis, and you guys both have the life sentences thing,” she said loudly, watching Pattadol from the corner of her eye.

Otta sidled up, giving them both a nod.

“What are you talking about?” She asked as if she didn’t know.

Lycion nodded onto the lower deck, where Captain Mithrun had tripped into a coil of rope. Cithis hadn’t helped him up yet, so he was just sat in it glaring at everyone around him.

“Our fearless leader. Until we land, I guess. Then he’ll just be… Mithrun.”

It felt wrong even to hear the name, Fleki and Otta shared an entirely involuntary shudder.

“He’s not gonna do well on his own,” Otta said bluntly, and Fleki and Lycion exchanged startled looks. That was a little more direct than they were thinking.

True though. Fleki huffed and ran her hand through her hair again, crushing a little actual guilt.

“Yeah… for all that he’s got a damn stupid life plan.” Which technically meant that they all did, now.

Life or the next hundred and fifty odd years, depending on how Fleki and Otta’s sentences were commuted.

Lycion chuckled softly and stood, stretching his arms back above his head.

“You know, when you think about it, what he’s planning to do is technically no different than what we did as Canaries,” he pointed out.

All three glanced at Pattadol.

Who twitched, maybe from their joint gazes or just from a breeze.

Down on the lower deck, Captain Mithrun was now refusing to be helped out of the coil of rope. Like he knew how much they needed him to be a really tragic visual aid.

“It’s technically a little safer, almost,” Fleki said “reluctantly”, pretending to be talked around.

Otta snorted and folded her arms.

“Running around some backwater country for the rest of his life following monsters around? Still sounds like a punishment detail to me.”

“That’s kinda my point,” Lycion pointed out with a snicker, turning now to lean his back against the railing instead. If he kept watching the captain he was either going to laugh or cry (possibly both), which wouldn’t be conducive to their mission.

Fleki sighed and tossed both hands into the air.

“Yeah, but keeping the captain alive on a mission was never a one person job! If the Queen’s gonna take this mission of his seriously, he needs a proper squad who can handle the monsters and his needs!”

All three glanced at Pattadol again.

She seemed to be ignoring them.

“Casually” sidling in her general direction, Otta came to lean against the railing too.

“I mean yeah, but it can’t be just anyone. It has to be someone who knows-”

“Oh for fucks sake!” Pattadol threw up her hands, turning to glare at the lot of them. “One of you, right now, I don’t care who but one of you tell me you don’t actually think I’m this fucking stupid!”

All three convicts were stunned into silence, staring at her for a long moment. Then Lycion leaned into Fleki, talking from the corner of his mouth.

“I did not know Pattadol could swear.”

About to agree, Fleki caught the look in Pattadol’s eyes and raised her hands in unequivocal surrender.

“We don’t think you’re stupid! Just… we… we weren’t being subtle, were we?” She asked mostly rhetorically, and Pattadol glared at her specifically before redirecting it to the group as a whole again.

“Not. Remotely. I was waiting to see if you’d actually come out and just ask me, but since you seem to think I’m some kind of credulous child I guess that wasn’t going to happen!” She folded her arms, scowling at them all.

Otta leaned in towards Fleki too.

“Somehow I’m more scared now that she’s not swearing,” she said from the corner of her mouth, and Lycion nodded sagely. Fleki nudged the pair of them.

“So… what do you think though? About talking to the Queen about…” Fleki waved a hand vaguely over her shoulder at the Cithis and Mithrun Rope Cabaret currently entertaining the ship.

Pattadol glared at them all for a while longer, then sighed and leaned back against the railing.

“For what it’s worth, I think you’re right. You four are the logical choice to go with him and keep taking care of him; it’s not that different from what you’d be doing otherwise, and you deserve a reward for your service. And it’d be a more useful way to finish your sentences than just in a cell.” She shot them all another glare, raising a finger sharply. “But! I also think you’re going to need another warden to accompany you. I don’t think you’d hurt the captain or try anything, but no one else is going to believe that you won’t just run the second you get a chance.”

The three convicts exchanged thoughtful looks this time.

“You could…” Otta began, but Pattadol shook her head firmly.

“The Queen has already asked me to return to Melini as her ambassador. I can’t do that and keep an eye on all of you. So you need another warden in on this plan…”

“I guess that’s my cue.”

All four jumped as Flamela approached the railing, her coal-black skin reflecting almost gold in the sun. She rolled her eyes at the lot of them.

“Don’t look so shocked. I’m not going back to the fucking capital to play political games, and I’m keeping a career where I can fucking stab something if I can. Cithis asked me before we boarded,” she snapped, glaring at the lot of them.

This time Otta leaned in towards Pattadol.

“Okay but did you also catch that because we thought-”

“Shut up,” Flamela snapped, shooting her another glare, “it’s your own faults for gossiping and playing stupid games instead of just asking.”

“But you don’t like Captain Mithrun,” Fleki butted in, talking over Otta’s protest.

Flamela shrugged.

“I don’t like any of you.”

“Except Cithis?” Lycion asked sweetly, unphased by her glare, “Or why would you agree?”

It was fascinating to watch Flamela blush, mostly for the sheer novelty. Usually all anyone really saw from her was anger. Which, to be fair, was definitely still present.

“There are so many worse things I can find for you to scrub than the decks,” she snarled, definitely not covering the sudden flush and fluster.

Surprisingly, Pattadol came to their rescue.

“I also think you need to let Captain Flamela and I present the idea to the Queen, and you four need to shut up about it from this point on,” she said firmly, as if there hadn’t been an interruption.

Even Flamela looked surprised, and a little impressed. Pattadol gave all three convicts a sharp look.

“You do also need to tell Captain Mithrun about your plan first. Now. Somewhere private,” she added sharply.

The three convicts now shared a bewildered look. This time it was Otta who asked.

“I mean… we can? But why? If you guys are gonna present the idea, shouldn’t you tell him?” She asked cautiously.

Pattadol gave her a look like she’d asked if water was wet.

“Because for the past five weeks you’ve let Captain Mithrun think you’d rather have your legs cut off than go with him, and he’s upset about it! He’s not going to believe this was your ridiculous master plan unless you’re the ones who tell him about it, he’ll just think we’re forcing you to go!”

There was a long, slow moment, and then Otta frowned, cocking her head to one side.

“That doesn’t really sound like him…”

“He has been in a weird mood though,” Lycion mused, glancing over his shoulder.

Cithis, who never started an argument she wasn’t certain she’d win, had sat down next to the captain. He was still glaring at her.

Pattadol groaned loudly, drawing all of their attention back to her.

“Of course he’s in a bad mood! As far as he knows he’s going to lose everything familiar in his life when we get back, and every bit of stability he’s had for twelve years!”

“He’s been a Canary again for-“ Fleki began, only to be cut off by Otta.

“Wait how do you know how long I’ve been in his squad for?”

Fleki shut her mouth, cheeks pink. Flamela sighed heavily, her hands on her hips.

“There’s records on all of you, and every change in personnel,” she said flatly, entirely unimpressed. “Honestly, you’re not selling me on this stupid plan.”

“I’ll tell you Cithis’ real favourite food?” Lycion offered innocently, grinning when Flamela glared at him. “She likes telling different people different things to see what’s the most difficult or expensive thing they can get her, but she loves shrimp.”

Otta and Fleki turned to stare at him along with the wardens.

“How the hell do you know that?” Otta demanded, already thinking back over half a dozen conversations with their squad-mate that suddenly all made much more sense.

Lycion shrugged.

“I can smell when people lie.”

“You can fucking WHAT?!” Fleki shrieked, over any and all other reactions to that fuck of a sentence.

Lycion blinked, mildly confused at best.

“What? I mean, not everyone. But people I know, sure, I can pick up the patterns, especially in my real body. And Cithis lies a lot.”

Even Flamela looked impressed (and not a little thoughtful), but once again it was on Pattadol to come to the rescue as Fleki tackled Lycion, catching the smaller elf by the waist and yanking her back before she could take them both over the railing.

“You NEVER TOLD ME you piece of shit! Mmmmmmmph!”

Clamping a hand firmly over Fleki’s mouth, Pattadol levelled a stern glare at the other two.

“You need to go and tell Captain Mithrun that you want to go back to Melini with him, now. Before lunch. And tell him that you’ve been working on a plan all month, and that Captain Flamela and I are going to help you. And tell him you’re sorry you didn’t let him know! Fleki I’m not going to let you go just because you keep licking me, promise you’re not going to just attack Lycion again first.”

Still glaring mutinously, Fleki instead grumbled something that might have been agreement behind Pattadol’s hand and sagged. Pattadol cautiously released her, ready to grab at any second, but she just sulked back to the other two convicts, arms folded.

Once she was satisfied that attempted murder was no longer imminent, the young warden nodded firmly.

“Go on then! Get him now and take him to his cabin, no one’s inside on a day like today,” she flapped her hands at them and the convicts turned together, Lycion tossing an arm around Fleki’s shoulders that she promptly bit, but otherwise didn’t object to.

As they walked away, Flamela frowned thoughtfully after them.

“Pattadol, you’re a middle child, right?” She asked, not actually looking over at her fellow warden. Pattadol jumped, startled to be addressed despite everything they’d just agreed on, and looked over nervously.

“Uh… yes?”

Flamela hummed thoughtfully, leaning forward and folding her arms on the railing.

“Your parents made a good choice. You would have been a very good Canary.” Then she sighed and shook her head, straightening almost immediately to stretch out her back. “Or a kindergarten teacher.”

Utterly lost now, Pattadol stared at her for a long moment, then back to the convicts who’d now reached the lower deck, heading to where one beleaguered deckhand was trying to get Mithrun and Cithis away from the rope. It didn’t look urgent, exactly, but it probably wasn’t good.

A slight smile tugged at the corner of Pattadol’s mouth.

“Thanks… I think?” She said quietly, glancing back to Flamela out of the corner of her eye. Flamela gave her a brusque pat on the shoulder.

“You’re gonna need all those skills if you’re staying on as a diplomat,” she added bluntly, then turned and walked away in the opposite direction of the lower deck.

Once again cursing her own pale complexion that showed even the faintest hints of pink, Pattadol looked for her squad-mates among the bustling heads on the lower deck again, her hand drifting ever so slowly up to the place Flamela had touched.

Glancing back over her shoulder, Otta considered the two wardens.

“So did we miss something or has Pattadol always been the smart one?” She asked bluntly.

Lycion hummed thoughtfully and then shrugged.

“Well we definitely missed something, but it might be that she’s smart,” he offered. Fleki huffed and rolled her eyes, still not sure she was willing to forgive him.

(Or whether or not he’d been bullshitting.)

“Not smart enough to just tell us she agreed and save us all the trouble though.”

“That might more have been gross optimism,” Otta noted, nudging her way through the newly forming crowd. It meant they had nearly reached Captain Mithrun. And possibly that he was doing something worse.

“Or she wanted us to come to her,” Lycion offered, having a much easier time parting the other elves. The ladies fell into step behind him automatically.

“Same thing,” Otta agreed.

“So what are we actually gonna do about the captain?” Fleki wondered, noting the increasing density of onlookers, most of whom were solely focused on the scene before them.

“Oh, that’ll be easy,” Lycion waved away the problem, nudging between another two Canaries and breaking into open space.

The situation had escalated again without them, justifying the budding crowd. What had been one deckhand presumably trying to politely talk the captain out of the rope was now two deckhands holding a third, one performing a healing spell on a bleeding hand.

Cithis was back on her feet too, holding the captain’s jaw firmly and dabbing at his face with a napkin. He was still glaring, although the effect was lost with Cithis’ grip smushing up his cheeks.

“Honestly captain, I’ve told you about putting things in your mouth when you don’t know where they’ve been,” she scolded him, even as the others approached.

Otta sighed heavily and shook her head.

“This one’s your fault, Fleki, he never used to bite before he met you.”

About to open her mouth to argue or try to defend herself, Fleki huffed and closed it again when Lycion waved his freshly bitten arm in her direction. She rolled her eyes instead, folding her arms.

“Hey if people are gonna grab you they deserve what they get,” she grumbled, glaring at the deeply amused convicts and crew surrounding them.

“He nearly took my fingers off!” Howled the injured deckhand, proffering a freshly healed set of fingers that were still a little red.

Not releasing her grip, Cithis turned from the captain enough to narrow her eyes at him.

“You went to lay hands on a warden captain over a coil of rope. Count yourself lucky if this is the only reprimand you receive,” she informed him icily, as if biting was a very normal thing for a warden to do.

That was how they knew that she was reaching the end of her patience with the captain’s behaviour; usually she was all sweet smiles and gentle reconciliation whenever something went wrong. Things had to get bad before Cithis ever showed her temper.

The poor elf opened and closed his mouth a few times, staring from his fingers to the entirely unrepentant Captain Mithrun.

“But… I… we need access to the lines!” He exclaimed, flailing in the direction of the sails. “He can’t just sit in them!”

Cithis raised a frosty eyebrow at him.

“Are we likely to sink if you can’t tweak this particular rope in the next thirty seconds?” She asked viciously sweetly, and the poor elf’s crew-mates drew away on either side.

Technically, the poor guy was right. The Canaries were all supposed to stay out of the way as much as possible, and defer to the crew for anything related to running the ship. But it was a beautiful day, with clear skies and a calm sea.

Trying to claim there had been any real urgency to moving the captain would be difficult. It wasn’t the kind of argument anyone wanted to escalate any higher.

Lycion gave him a cheerful pat on the shoulder on his way past and a friendly smile.

“I think it’s probably best if you let us handle the captain, and you just handle the ship. Captain, if you bite me I’ll bite you back,” he warned Captain Mithrun, bending down and hauling the captain out of the ropes, tossing him over his shoulder.

The captain very clearly did consider biting him anyway, but let himself be carried like a sack of potatoes instead, glaring at Lycion’s ass.

Cithis maintained eye contact with the unfortunate sailor for a minute longer, then turned to follow Lycion with a haughty sniff. Fleki waved both hands at the onlookers like she was scattering ducklings.

“Go on, fuck off everyone, we’re all definitely going to drown and be lost at sea if there’s a moment’s delay on the ropes.”

Since the show seemed to be over (at least for now), they did begin to disperse, forming into smaller groups to talk about what the fuck that had been about. Which was fair.

Luckily, the threat of Cithis was enough to keep any stragglers from tagging after them as they headed down to the captain’s room. Not that all five of them could fit in the captain’s room; with Lycion depositing the captain on the bed, he, Cithis, and Otta could just about squish to stand in the remaining space. Fleki stayed in the hall, glaring about for onlookers.

Captain Mithrun treated them all to a truly dark glare for a minute, then turned to stare up at the boards above him, his face falling into more of a pout.

Lycion examined his face for a moment, then sighed and shook his head.

“Oh, Captain… we should have said sooner.”

Captain Mithrun didn’t so much as glance over, but Cithis shot him a questioning look. Given that she’d apparently been openly discussing things with Flamela, it seemed a little rich.

Otta cut in to fill them both in, folding her arms.

“We were just talking to Pattadol and Captain Flamela. They’re going to see if they can help get us assigned to go back to Melini with you,” she said flatly, shaking her head minutely as Cithis’ eyes widened. They could talk about that part later.

Captain Mithrun’s face froze, his one good eye sliding over to peer in Otta’s direction. She scratched at the back of her head, feeling sheepish.

“We knew you could only get like, one person as your ward, so we figured for all of us to go it’d have to be kinda the same thing as Canary duty. You’re still gonna be hunting down monsters, and you’re still gonna need someone to take care of you, so really the only difference is gonna be that there won’t be any weird dungeon magic.”

“Which is gonna make Otta way less useful, but she wanted to come too,” Fleki put in from the hallway, grinning and ducking as Otta swung at her.

“Hey fuck you there are sprites everywhere! And I can still dig traps and shit, I’ll be more useful than you in a fight!”

Lycion made an aborted move to try and get between them, but with Cithis in the way he’d have had to push past her. And he didn’t care that much.

He gave Captain Mithrun a cheerful smile instead.

“It’s going to be a little more dangerous too, since we won’t be able to resurrect anyone if they get killed, so we figured it’d have to be all of us,” he explained, and the captain’s gaze slid slowly over to him.

The defined lines of the pout were softening out, leaving the captain looking more confused than anything else. Lycion gently brushed his hair off his face.

“That is, if you’d like us to come with you, Captain?”

That caught Otta and Fleki’s attention, now rough housing in the hall, and both looked over.

The captain’s brow furrowed again, as if the question didn’t make sense. It was hard to tell what made sense to him, though.

“You wanted to go back to prison,” he said after a few minutes, pushing himself up on his elbows so he could frown at Fleki. Who shoved Otta off her and sat up.

“I mean, I said that at first cuz I was surprised! But then I thought some more about it, and talked to the others, and… well, it’s not that much worse than being Canaries. Not if it’s all of us.”

“Yeah, cuz you’d definitely die if it was just Fleki trying to take care of you,” Otta snarked, dodging away from a quick swat.

Captain Mithrun stared at the pair of them, his eye wide, looking rather a lot like a lost puppy. Lycion ruffled his hair, then carefully fixed it when the wide eyed stare turned to him.

“So, what do you think, Captain? Do you mind if we come with you tracking the monsters?” It wasn’t quite the same question, which might have made it slightly easier for him.

The captain stared at him for a long moment too, then very slowly shook his head. He looked almost like he was about to cry, and the two on the floor sighed in relief.

Then Fleki hauled herself to her feet, shoving Otta out of her way to dive into the room, half sprawling across the bed.

“Okay but that’s no you don’t mind, not no you totally want us all to go back to prison instead, right? She asked, propping herself up on her elbows and grinning at him.

Captain Mithrun hesitated again, looking at all four of them as though not fully sure they were here. When he spoke it was just as slow and careful.

“I… won’t stop you if you want to come with me?” It sounded like a question, like he genuinely didn’t know what she was asking or how to respond.

The day had gotten away from him somewhere, but at least he wasn’t glaring any more. And seemed much less likely to bite someone. Lycion even sat on the edge of the bed to let Cithis scoot over so Otta could squish in, with minimal mutual grumbling.

Captain Mithrun was never exactly enthusiastic about anything, but anything beat the sulking from the past few weeks. Pattadol was probably right; at the very least he’d been unsettled, or they’d just confused him out of whatever actually put him in a bad mood.

They didn’t usually push so much into his personal space, but if he’d been upset about them leaving he could probably use a little company. And it wasn’t like there was much of a choice in the tiny room.

If he got cranky again they’d be able to back out. Maybe even before anyone got bitten.

Lycion gave the captain another gentle pat on the shoulder.

“We can keep practicing making pasta together,” he offered brightly, and got a slightly uncertain smile.

“We’re going to have to catch Flamela up on the pasta making, she missed our first lesson,” Fleki snickered, pulling herself up onto the bed too.

That was an even worse idea than trying to fit three of them standing, but the captain didn’t lean away from either of them. He wasn’t his usual deadpan self exactly, but at least he looked a little happier.

Definitely still more confused than anything else, and occasionally looking around to check they were actually there, but the faint bemused smile hadn’t left, which was a nice change.

Things fell as silent as they ever got on the noisy, creaking ship for a few moments and were dangerously close to actually being peaceful.

Then Fleki’s head whipped around and she grinned at Cithis again.

“Oh, and did you know Pattadol can swear? She totally told us to fuck off,” she said brightly.

Mithrun blinked slowly, frowning at her, and even Cithis looked surprised. Otta sighed and shook her head.

“She did not tell us to fuck off.” She waited a beat, then grinned as well. “She asked if we thought she was a fucking idiot.”

“Yeah, she’s been onto us since we set sail,” Lycion chuckled softly, giving the captain a speculative look and then resting his chin on the much shorter elf’s head. Which tipped slowly upwards to look at him too, but didn’t move to dislodge him other than that.

Lycion decided to consider that a win, although it was always hard to tell how the captain felt about anything. If he felt anything about most things at all.

Too bad they were going to be keeping Flamela, not Pattadol while they explored Melini. Still, if she was doing diplomatic work, she’d probably be nearby enough to visit and check in.

She’d definitely love them visiting to make her their relationship counsellor with the captain. With both captains, since it wasn’t like Flamela liked Mithrun either.

It was hard to ignore the way the captain’s stiff back slowly, gradually began to relax back into Lycion’s warmth as they continued to chat around him. Or the way that his feet slid apart to let Fleki haul herself up between them when she started to slip with the motion of the waves, although that might have been to avoid being crushed.

Lycion scooped Mithrun fully into his lap and away from her anyway, making sure not to hold on in case the captain wanted to move away. He stiffened up again, but didn’t move. And slowly began to relax even further, finally resting his weight against Lycion when he didn’t move back.

Otta and Fleki both noticed, and Cithis looked decidedly speculative as she watched the tension slowly leech from the captain’s shoulders.

They’d always tried to give him as much space as he wanted, which had been blatant guesswork… and pretty widely varied, since Otta preferred maximum personal space and Fleki barely even acknowledged the concept.

Might have had something to do with how much time she spent outside of her own body on a regular basis, but the damn bird was just as inclined to burrow in and occasionally bite people.

Lycion wasn’t a fan of too much space either, or rather he liked a fair amount of physical contact. In his actual body for preference, but there was no chance of fitting that into the captain’s room along with the rest of them.

He could handle the spindly elf body for a good cause, and realising they might have been giving the captain too much space was a good cause. Captain Mithrun wasn’t a formal guy, so long as they did what he told them in a dungeon he’d answer to anything and let them get away with whatever they wanted.

It made it hard to see where his boundaries were, so they’d largely sided with caution. And apparently underestimated just how much he depended on them for stability, if nothing else.

Group cuddles on his bed? Probably not going to be much of a feature going forward, even if they did manage to snag an assignment still taking care of him. It got all five of them into the dinky cabin though, and since no one was making Cithis or Otta join in there were no objections.

Fleki was definitely gonna keep pushing until she finally located a boundary, either the captain’s or her own, and then promptly panic and never go near it again. Lycion could always grab her when he wanted attention, but he made a mental note to offer it to the captain more too.

After all, if they were all going to be keeping each other company even after the Canaries disbanded, they couldn’t rely only on Pattadol to tell what the captain needed.

They’d probably also have access to Kabru, with any luck whatsoever. And between the four of them, they could definitely convince Kabru that a little cuddling had been added to the captain’s daily routine.

Cithis had the same thought, exchanging a slow smile with Lycion as the captain very slowly melted into a puddle.

Going back to Melini was going to be a lot of fun.

——————

Pattadol totally also deserves to bite people much more often too, she gets no respect and while that is usually good for her development she does deserve at least a little! (She’d get more if she bit people)

Poor Mithrun has no fucking clue what’s going on or why, including why he is mysteriously now cranky all of the time, it’s not like his entire life has just been overturned and will never recover

There’s also a joke somewhere about Fleki having to learn to pull out now that they can’t just kill and resurrect her when her familiar gets eaten, but I couldn’t find it yet so just assume I’m funny 👍👍

Anyway, come join my touch-starved Mithrun agenda, the biting is not technically compulsory but here we are

#delicious in dungeon #delicious in dungeon spoilers #dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi fanfic #after dinner mints #after dinner mints: the plan #lycion #lycion dungeon meshi #fleki #fleki dungeon meshi #cithis #cithis dungeon meshi #otta dungeon meshi #pattadol #pattadol dungeon meshi #captain mithrun #mithrun dungeon meshi #dungeon meshi canaries #they are not leaving their captain alone he’ll fucking die

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badchoicesworld · 11 months

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blog guide !!

requests are closed, but feel free to send them in regardless. just expect them to be answered a little later !

this is (for now) an across the spiderverse blog !

please allow me up to a week to write up your asks

characters i write for :

Miguel O’hara

Miles Morales

Miles 42

Hobie (let’s go brit rep)

Pavitr Prabhakar

The Spot

Peter B. Parker

Spider-Noir

general info :

i cannot stress this enough, i exclusively write everything but fem reader, y’all got enough .

that being said, feel free to request anything else at all- when it’s not specified i will just assume gender neutral for the sake of inclusion

trans readers, non-binary, everything in between and all about is completely valid here and i’m more than willing to write about it <3

i do have a health condition that can catch me some days, so there may be times where i’m inactive but it should never be for long periods of time

feel free to get oddly specific with requests ! the more i can work with, the better

but i also don’t mind if they’re just general requests that don’t require a lot of detail

i will NOT write explicit NSFW, i draw the line at clothes being removed unless it has something to do with a prompt (e.g. seeing top surgery scars for the first time), some of these characters ages are not specified yet and i don’t feel comfortable potentially writing NSFW for minors. that is a crime.

there will be some requests i won’t obviously be able to complete for a number of reasons, please do not spam me if this is the case. if i’m willing to fulfil a request i will try my best to communicate with you if needed :]

i have the right to deny requests.

i do wanna say that i am a white guy so i can’t write from first hand experience, but if you request something that includes diversity like a specific race or cultural aspects i will try my absolute best to deliver accurate works. I’ll research to whatever extent i need to (if you don’t already give some information) so i can provide for groups of people that are seriously neglected when it comes to fanfiction and such. and please, in the future, if i ever do fuck up PLEASE hold me accountable and if you can show me what i’ve done wrong and what i should’ve done; what i can do to improve, i would be so appreciative- my goal is to be as inclusive as possible with my writing and the last thing i want is to offend any body of people.

finally, there will be types of writing i can’t do for specific characters. for example, spot, idk how tf i would write like a whole one-shot when my man is how he is now so i’d probably just have to stick to headcanons n such

what i will write :

requests can be either platonic or romantic dynamics, potentially other stuff if you have any ideas. just lemme know ! i do like to consider myself half decent at writing, i’ve studied english literature and linguistics my whole life and i love it very dearly <3 i’m going on to study english as a whole at a higher level (literature, language, linguistics, creative writing)

i'm happy to also apply these headcanons to the cc's, so transgender miguel for instance! just let me know :]

i typically write in bullet points because im a mess

x male reader

x nb reader (feel free to specify if they’re ambiguous, masc leaning or whatever if it’s relevant to the ask)

x trans reader

x cis reader

x spider reader

x mutant reader

character x reader

if you request multiple characters (which is fine <3) i’ll likely default to headcanons for the sake of ease

what i won’t write :

x fem reader .

character x character

NSFW

triggering topics (excluding canon events)

weird fetish/kink stuff :[

hate speech, everyone is welcome here

masterlist :

hobie brown:

how i think Hobie would react to GN!reader calling them their husband casually, even though they’re not married

hobie brown with a transgender, vigilante reader (ftm reader)

hobie admires your fighting spirit (gn reader)

hobie’s punk, you’re metal (band edition, masc reader)

where you and hobie have the most loving connection, but don’t label it (gn reader)

where hobie meets gwens older brother (masc reader)

hobie notices how startled you get when he kisses you (gn!)

hobie realises you’re not as naive as he thought ! (gn reader)

with an s/o that cries a lot ! (gn!reader)

hobie with a snake mutated boyfriend !

hobie with a butterfly mutated boyfriend !

defending his trans partner !

miles morales

miles with an artistic boyfriend riddled with anxieties

miles with a snake mutated boyfriend !

defending his trans partner !

miles 42:

miles 42 w/ an artistic spider-reader ! (masc reader)

miles42 with a butterfly mutated boyfriend !

miles 42 w/ and alien boyfriend !

defending his trans partner !

the spot:

the spot getting flustered by masc!reader

the spot falls into winged readers home (gn)

spider-noir:

spider-noir finds out you’re transmasc on a mission !

helping noir understand trans issues (deadnaming, ftm reader)

with an s/o that cries a lot ! (gn!reader)

noir finds out you wear trans tape (transmasc!reader)

defending his trans partner !

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quibbs126 · 8 months

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And you want to know what makes it worse? I don’t even have anything going on creatively in my mind either

I like to go on walks in the morning, around 30 minutes to an hour, depends on what I feel like (or the weather), and during that time, I listen to music and I think about scenarios in my head, like characters talking or a scenario they’re in. They could be characters of my own creation, they could be characters from a series I currently like. But usually, it goes with the vibe of whatever I’m listening to (or it devolves into something else, but that’s a gradual thing). But now, I can’t come up with really anything, and so I’m stuck revisiting whatever I came up with beforehand, and I can’t think of anything new. And like, it’s getting annoying, only being stuck with like, 3 things, not to mention I’m just repeating the conversations over and over again each time

I know that’s a weird, specific thing, but it’s a thing, and I thought it should mention it

But going to something more general that makes more sense, another thing is that I just haven’t made that much art. Like I’ve been doing less and less over time, and I know y’all know it. And I want to make art, I just can’t make myself, both out of lack of ability to force myself to, and because of a lack of creativity (which is what I’m focusing on here)

Or like for my fankids, I’ll be looking at my list, either in my notes or on Procreate, and I cannot make myself do anything with them. And I’m doing this with characters in general, I‘ll be looking at a blank page and have no clue what to do with it

And the current most infuriating thing, I can’t make new characters. Maybe I can push through making fankids, but I cannot make my own original characters, and I cannot create a new original story to work with. Sometimes I’ll have random ideas, and I’ll write them down, but I can’t do much with them. And what makes it infuriating is that I feel like I am on the cusp of something, some new thing should be happening (and at this point I need it for new ideas), but nothing’s coming up, the thoughts won’t form

I suppose related to that, I’m trying to redo the fusion project once more, but I can’t figure out where to start with the characters, and so I can’t do anything. I have ideas, like Berserk is making me think of something to do with the characters, but I don’t know what that something is, or how to achieve that thing. It had to do with each of the party characters and how they’re introduced and what they bring to the party, but the thoughts won’t form enough for me to understand what it is

That’s the main thing, thoughts are floating my head, there are points that formulate, but the refuse to connect into an actual line of thinking or creativity, and it’s infuriating!

None of that made sense, did it?

I noticed this on Sunday when I was out with my family for lunch. I had my iPad to draw, but I couldn’t think of anything to draw, so I just sat there, trying to think of something. I mean thankfully food came relatively fast, or else I’d be stuck there for ages in an infuriating creative limbo

#I said “infuriating” way too much #and I think this post made much less sense #but I need you to know my frustration #because I can’t take it #it’s hell #I want to draw I want to create #but I can’t #and I hate it #real life stuff #creativity #art struggles

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muldxr · 2 years

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five of my fave fics i’ve written

hill country (the friends with benefits texas au)

My most recent fic, y’all know that by now! This was published a full year after I started writing, and I think I’m finally getting the hang of my style (I have a ways to go). I started working on this version this February when I was going through some serious family stuff and knew I was moving away from Texas in a few months, so it was almost a goodbye letter to what was my home for 3 1/2 years. Very proud of this one! Although my professional opinion, the angst of it needs time to be appreciated; not everything has to be a happy ending and I stand by that.

noisemaker (the soulmates-by-music-association fic where harry doesn’t like louis)

This was the first fic where I exercised my writing muscles a little more! I love soulmate aus but this one definitely challenged the heck out of me. Harry and Louis are stubborn babies and I love love loved digging into their minds. I wanted it to be funny and also draw readers in. I was writing it in the middle of my last semester of grad school, and I had to change my fic prompt from an incredibly ambitious idea because I couldn’t do the original idea justice (Maybe… Soon... I haven't deleted that draft yet), BUT I do love this one a lot. This one also has an open ending lolol I am considering coming back to this world to give these characters a chance to grow together!

stay hydrated! (the bucket fic, honorable mention to its sequel)

I mean… we all gotta write that fic at some point? The one that makes you blush and shut your eyes as you share the link, and all your friends who knew you before stare at you like “what the fuck! nope!” I wrote this on a dare, it blew up, I got some fun and not-so-fun comments, and I got a certain ~reputation~ But that’s what’s good about creating outside of your comfort zone. So I’ll put this on my top 5 list for that reason!

let me show you (the one where they play 'never have I ever')

This one was for a fan project fest last year. It’s very short and fluffy, and something that someone in their mid-20s would write as they were going through a major queer awakening (hi it’s me). This fic also has a lovely podcast recording by @podfic-pals and that’s the biggest honor 😭

good, good graces (the sub!harry praise kink fic)

It’s not exactly my favorite and I won't ramble about it, but I think it deserves a place here because it’s canon-divergent, has long-haired harry and my first foray into ✨spicy writing.✨ Not to be “that person” but this ranks highest on my ao3 stats page (I knew kink sells but what the fuck) I wasn’t in the best place writing this; ironically, this was at the same time as noisemaker.

—

Thank you to @littleroverlouis @wabadabadaba and @neondiamond for tagging me! Being new to the writing game as a Sensitive Somebody who had a heck of a rollercoaster of a year, I had a hard time deciding out of my 11 little works! I need to branch out for my future fic ideas but I'm ready for whatever lies ahead!

i’ll tag anyone who wants to rate their own fics! seriously, just say i tagged you and i’ll hype up your top five fics

#this was Tough!#can I say my crime au even though it’s not out yet 😭😭😭😭 it’s my FAVE #my immortal louis fic could've made it on this list once upon a time but it's a very ambitious thing and i don't know if people like it #if anyone has ideas of things i could write or things they think i could be good at trying my hand at... just dm me!!!!

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parker-d-bloodrose · 1 year

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Before I go to bed, I want to talk about something. Some of y’all may’ve noticed that I’ve been posting more art over the past week. And like, it’s honestly because of some things that have happened over the past year. Firstly; I’ve gotten back into collecting comics and manga. It was a pursuit I stopped at the behest of my ex-spouse back in... oh I wanna say 2017? “You aren’t even reading them anymore.” Which is kind of correct, because I had shifted my focus from being a reader to being a collector. I’m back to being a reader because I’m being more narrow minded in my focus of what I’m buying. Primarily whatever funky shit catches my attention. Anyway point is. I started getting back into comics and surrounding myself with beautiful art. I’ll be putting the rest of this under the cut.

I’ve also watched many of my illustration friends work and post work and thought it was extremely cool. I even picked up some art books from artists whose work I admire, like Gerald Brom and Yoshitaka Amano. While their art styles are both extremely technical and detailed, and at a level beyond the scope that I personally want to achieve, I still admire and find their work inspirational. Amano’s work in particular, because when I have the time and mental energy I adore playing Final Fantasy 6. It’s just so gorgeous, even though it’s rendered in smooth pixel form.

I’ve also been working on pixel art in general as a way to destress after work, as well as producing my own tokens to sorta fill out my monday game where the art provided for the adventure path just doesn’t have the unique creature I need. It isn’t something I wanted to do beyond pursuing my own hobby interests. I find it extremely relaxing and calming to draw pixel art, much like how other people build mini figs for their TTRPG games. About a week or so ago, I saw an absolutely gorgeous pixel art picture of a woman coming out of a pond and I was just... stunned by what the artist did. I don’t know the resolution or anything but it was, like many other great pixel art pieces I’ve seen, a gorgeous fucking thing to behold. And it struck a chord with me. I realized that pixel art isn’t just about sprites. Sprites are certainly a cool part of it. But the medium can do more than I was allowing myself to do with it. And for awhile I was like “eh it’s fine. I don’t... have to do anything amazing. This is just a hobby.” And then I watched the video “Sekiro’s Parry and Other Pursuits of Perfection.” by Jacob Geller. In it, Geller discusses how playing Sekiro and mastering it led him to wanting to pick up piano playing again, even though he wasn’t intending on composing his own music. He just wanted to get that feeling of playing a perfect note again. I thought it was kind of cheesy but also lowkey? Despite Geller making fun of himself by pointing out how it was typical of a video essayist to veer off track of the original point to talk about a personal anecdote, it was also kind of impactful on me. As y’all may’ve noticed, I’ve also been playing Sekiro too and while his enjoyment comes largely from knowing what to do next and executing it perfectly like sheet music, my take away from this game is actually different. I enjoy this extremely punishing video game not because I know the timing or whatever, but because I enjoy the challenge of learning something new. I’ve been toying off and on for... quite frankly about as long as I’ve been writing with doing traditional art. I have never considered myself a good illustrator. But, that’s okay. I don’t need to be. I can accept that I am an amateur artist. But I do find that I crave learning a new skill and mastering it. I was going to get better at pixel art. So, with all of these things happening, I made a resolution - I was going to produce a 64 x 64 pixel image myself by the end of the year, one of the largest canvases I’ve ever been comfortable doing shit on. Then I dove into a pixel art tutorial and ended up doing a 100 x 64 pixel image following the steps. But.... a lot of it didn’t look right. I found myself frustrated by my inability to get the landscape to look the way I wanted it to. The mountains were... mountain-shaped and passable. But the image I was referencing had clouds with rim lighting and I did not understand how it was working. My brain couldn’t grok it, so I removed it. There was also a person in the foreground who was sillouhetted. I ended up removing that person and instead focusing on the little wizard tower. Which came out.... mostly fine, except for again the lighting. I very quickly realized that my rudimentary understanding of lighting and shapes needed to be honed. I can’t afford a tablet right now, because I’m actually between jobs (Hello I quit my job and my last day is tomorrow!) and I also don’t really want one because I work more comfortably using a mouse with the kind of art I do. But I can afford a sketchbook, pens, and paper. So, I think what I’m going to do is fill these 100 sheets with sketches. And I’m going to have fun doing it. And I’m going to learn shit. So that maybe by the end of the year I’ll produce an original 64 by 64 pixel image. It’s also been relaxing to have an additional creative outlet aside from writing, because right now I’m kind of suffering from an extremely bad case of writer’s block and I’m having a hard time breaking it. Anyway, it’s late and I actually have work in the morning and this already took me about forty minutes to write so I’m going to bed. I hope y’all enjoyed this personal essay.

#Irene Rants #art

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transgenders-for-levi-ackerman · 2 years

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NSFW Eren Yeager Headcanons

Ohhhh boyyyyyyyyyy why did i decide to do this

Warnings: NSFW (obviously) , a mix of both female and male anatomy is mentioned, but I avoid using gendered language

enjoy

First and foremost…Eren Yeager would be kinky as shit, I’m calling it.

Super into bondage: he loves seeing you squirm around in your restraints, rendered completely helpless to his touch…him having full control over your pleasure…🤤

He’d be rough during the act, gripping onto your shoulders or your hips and thrusting into you full force, taking in how erotic you look and sound

He’d take it slow at first, of course. Eren cares about your pleasure, so he’d make out with you at first, palming you through your clothes…then give you head

Eren absolutely LOVES giving head and definitely loves receiving it too. He’d circle his tongue around your clit, or, alternatively, bob his head up and down on your shaft ever so slowly, making sure to draw out the feeling of pleasure for as long as possible; that way, you’re basically begging him to fuck you by the time he’s done.

When Eren is only giving you head, he aims to make you come as many times as possible. He doesn’t mind getting whatever fluid you produce in his mouth or all over his face, because being covered in your juices is all he could ever ask for. He enjoys it especially when you cum in his mouth, so he can swallow all of it.

Eren definitely has a thing for cum. He’d come on your face, on your chest, on your stomach, just because it looks pretty to him. He has a lot to go around, too. Whenever he orgasms, a shit ton of the stuff comes out, like an eternal fountain of youth. (haha get it) (because it’s his kids) (im not funny) His semen also tends to be on the thicker, sticky side

to expand on the last point, coming on you is also his way of “claiming” you

Eren is a switch; he both bottoms and tops, and can play both roles of dominant and submissive.

Some of Eren’s favorite sex positions are missionary, the lotus, and doggy style. He especially enjoys missionary and the lotus because he gets to see your face while he works/while you work on him.

When he’s on the giving end, he likes to pull on your hair when he can tell you’re close…hearing you scream for him while he pounds into you, holding your head upward; he finds it incredibly arousing.

Eren is very vocal in bed, regardless of whether he’s on the giving end or the receiving end. He wouldn’t hesitate to let you know if he was enjoying the experience or not.

“A…ah~, fuck, Y/N, you make me feel so fucking good…” he’d moan directly into your ear.

Bit of a wild one…y’all might hate me for saying this but it’s my headcanon, so.

Eren has a foot kink. Not a fetish, but a kink; Not 100% mandatory for his arousal, but damn, is it a nice-to-have.

This interest of his is one of his “dirty secrets”; he’s not *very* ashamed of it (only a little ashamed), but he avoids talking about it because he doesn’t want to come off as a weird pervert.

He’s fantasized about having you give him footjobs, him kissing and massaging your feet, and you sucking his toes. Of course, you didn’t know this until he shyly brought it up in conversation one day.

As mentioned earlier, Eren does enjoy being rough with you during the act…but he loves it even more when you’re rough with him ❤️ He becomes incredibly submissive…Pull his hair, slap him, tell him that you love him and his lewd moans…now he’s all yours to have your way with, regardless of if he’s giving or receiving

Eren’s sex drive isn’t crazy high, but it is on the upper end. He does masturbate, but not as often when he started being with you. Sometimes, he’ll have you watch him jerk off just to be a tease. I feel like he would enjoy mutual masturbation once in a blue moon, but not often. (in his mind, fucking you>>>>>anything else)

If you’re a woman and you have boobs, regardless of size, Eren absolutely adores them. He’ll fuck you in the cowgirl position just to see them bounce all over the place…if they’re big enough, he’d beg you for a titjob

When he wants to see exactly what’s happening down there, he goes for reverse cowgirl with you. Not only is seeing your ass bounce up and down on him incredibly erotic, but seeing himself slide in and out of your hole…😫

can you tell i am absolutely down bad for eren...need that yeager-ussy fr fr

Anyways, I hope you enjoyed reading these headcanons ! Let me know if you have any requests for writings, more headcanons, etc.

#eren jaeger #eren yeager #eren yeager headcanons #nsft headcanons #attack on titan #aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin

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earthyangels · 2 years

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“…. and if you look at his journals, he had all these drawings from when he was a kid, of imagining Nirvana as a headliner and playing arenas……He had a lot of angst in his life, a lot of pain, but when it came to his art, which included the entire career of Nirvana, not just the songwriting, singing, and the guitar playing, but the production of the records, the artwork on the albums, the way they handled the media, the way they handled their touring career, that all came out of his vision…….And he manifested exactly the way he wanted” - Former Nirvana Manager Danny Goldberg

‿︵‿︵‿︵୨˚̣̣̣͙୧ - - - - - ୨˚̣̣̣͙୧‿︵‿︵‿︵

Side note: I’m not really for reading his journals because invasion of privacy and it’s technically his diary, he even said to not read it on the first page so I don’t know why Courtney even released it but anything for money I guess. Anyways.

☯︎EarthyAngels- It’s amazing isn’t it? How Kurt visualized his entire music career and even drew it out which came into fruition. He used the visualization method for his dreams, constantly in his head about what he wanted to happen and never giving up despite his obstacles stacked against him. To the point he walked around knowing he was going to be big(others that worked with him too felt this force he was going to be massive) and was forceful with how he wanted things to be, it had to match his vision. It shows your mind and energy is a powerful tool to get exactly what you desire. No matter how “long” it might take, the universe (essentially you) will conspire to bring it all together so you can have it. It doesn’t matter what method you use as long as you fully believe or your energy is centered towards the fact whatever you want will come into your reality. That’s exactly what I am doing myself, it helps since I’m always daydreaming anyways so visualization comes easy with me. I just need to harden whatever that comes in the forefront of my mind is what’s transpiring soon for me to grab. Kurt did it despite his battle with mental illness and poverty and it’s inspiring since we are one and the same with that. It’s truly up to us on whether we believe or leave an impression subconscious that our manifestations will come through. So keep going with your desires and don’t stop, it’s possible.

Bye 💕Wings 🕊see y’all next time

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chidoroki · 2 years

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Black Clover ch332

Alrighty, so… I debated whether or not I wanted to start rambling on about Black Clover once the manga returned after its three month hiatus (which, unfortunately for me, began right as I decided to start and catch up with the anime and manga back in April) and after a couple weeks I finally decided, eh, why not? So despite it all being relatively fresh in my mind, I know for certain I don’t remember everything by heart due to the quick pace I consumed it all (even after rewatching/rereading most of it again during these past few months), so none of these posts are gonna be as detailed in regards to theories and character analysis compared to those I’ve done in the past during TPN’s final arc, but who cares. I’ve come to love BC very much so I’m gonna chat about it anyway.

First things first, the boys look so good! Yuno looks so nice in white, which is weird to me because I honestly wasn’t a fan of most of his previous magic knight attire. For the longest time my favorite outfit of his was when he first joined the Golden Dawn. It just felt more “Yuno,” I dunno. Probably just me not being a big fan of the whole squad outfits matching each other. The robes are one thing, but ya don’t gotta look identical down to the entire outfit, save for a couple color preferences with capes. But yeah all that aside, this one is my new favorite! I love the robe matching his eyes and the cuffs/collar of his shirt to his necklace. The whole outfit has a nice, not-too-busy color palette and I like that. Asta as well. I prefer this one much more than what he had after the previous time skip. I can only assume he’s got that new brown sleeve..? I don’t even know what to call it really.. just to cover up his permanently corrupted right arm. Dunno why he had to cover it up though, unless to just not draw so much attention to himself, as we learn pages later that not everyone trusts his devil powers still, despite his new proven innocence from the trial. The devil-binding mark is out in the open on his left wrist however, but I digress. Oh, and I’m just realizing now that Yuno has two little bags for both his clover & spade grimoire. Ah, the obvious things I notice once I finally decide to slow down.

But we can’t slow down. Nope. Because what do you mean a year and three months have passed since Spade?? What else happened after the war? So much could’ve happened since then.. would it be wrong for me to hope the anime (whenever it returns and reaches this point) gives us a little filler about all that? I dunno the general consensus regarding filler in BC, but I think the anime handled those episodes/arcs quite well. I was entertained at least, but I really just wanna know more! Aaahh, but our boy finally reaching such a high rank, I’m so proud of him! Truly deserves it after all his hard work. Also sorta kinda not surprised to see that Kaiser isn’t here? Granted he didn’t fight in Spade alongside the other captains, but whatever, not really important. I’m more surprised to see Yami without a cigarette in his mouth. How rare. Can’t say I dig the longer robe on him though.. or all the tiny clovers on Feugoleon’s shirt. And Nozel sweetie, I love you, but you do not need to add such large wings like that with your uniform too. Y’all don’t have to be so extra!

It’s so wholesome that Asta’s family were all invited to the ceremony too. They must be so proud and happy for him. Same with the few Black Bulls (& Mimosa) who were able to attend. I especially like how its those members who trained alongside him in the Heart Kingdom. Well, minus Luck and Charmy.. and Leo now that I remember correctly.. but we got Vanessa here instead! (i’ll never complain about seeing my favorite more)

We also learn Yuno was granted the grand magic knight title but Asta takes being one step behind him rather well. I’m sure he’ll catch up eventually. I do like seeing everyone mingling with each other; Yami going to chat with William, then Finral, Vanessa and her faithful glass of wine, and all the Hage residents at Asta’s table. A shame Charmy isn’t here to go crazy over the buffet, but I’m guessing she’s with the other Bulls who are currently out investigating some devil shenanigans. Probably. Overall it’s a very nice change from the first award ceremony Asta was invited to at least, back when he was looked down upon and attacked for having no magic and even Feugoleon and Nozel were arguing with each other. Yet here we are now all chatting together with Asta as the center of attention, for good reasons this time.

Speaking of captains, I’m quite intrigued about the possibilities we hear for who might be the next wizard king. Fuegoleon and Nozel I have no issue with, but Meroleona? I mean she’s strong, sure, an absolute powerhouse in fact, but I don’t think she would fancy being in charge like that anyway. Way too orderly for her wild tastes. I do wonder why William wasn’t mentioned however? He was always the top pick earlier in the series to be the next WK, but if I had to guess then perhaps he doesn’t feel like he deserves it due to his/Patry’s involvement during the Elf Reincarnation arc? Or he could just not want the new position. Who knows? Not me. If I had to choose though, I’d place my best on Fuegoleon over Nozel (which shocks even me because I adore the latter SO much more, I’m sorry!). I just feel as if he would fit that sort of position better for some reason. Not that it matters since..they all declined at the moment, but still fun to think about.

I can’t believe it’s been over a year and there was no progress regarding Charlotte’s feelings (though I guess that’s good for us considering we saw nothing during this last time skip and we certainly don’t wanna miss something like that!). Bless our boy Finral for reminding Yami since he clearly didn’t remember, or know anything about it actually. And I know I’m picking on almost everyone’s outfits/styles right now, but I still prefer Finral’s previous hairstyle (not the original but like, from royal knight exam to pre-heart kingdom time skip ya know?) I still like how it is now of course, love the green about it too. Perhaps I’m not used to this one just yet. He’s adorable either way! I love him!

Charlotte isn’t the only one dealing with romantic issues however. Seems our girls are as flustered as ever. How did they all handle these feelings for over a year? I’d probably go insane. Maybe they have.

I absolutely LOVE Secre interfering with their internal crisis and causing them to panic even more. She’s enjoying it all as much as I am. I wish she could give us a little smirk though, but her straight face is just so her. It works just as well.

And then to the real confession. Oh boy. Again, love the girl’s reactions. Also like..just look at how tall he’s gotten?? Sure he’s still short compared to people like Yuno and many others, but here our boy just looks so grown up I guess.

Not only looks that way, but he acts it too! He’s matured! He actually accepts Lily’s rejection and moves on from it just like he said he would. Then he recites his typical vow to become wizard king and Lily believes him, truly, for once too. Character growth for all!

And then all the happy feelings go away because the final boss has now appeared. Lowkey happy to see this man because of the similar appearance to Julius before he “died” from Patry, but also not because um, danger.

(this..went on longer than expected. i shall cut this here and post this separately from the other two chapters we currently have.)

#black clover #bc manga #chidoroki used chatter #me: yeah ill chat about it a little bit. also me: *rambling on about things that dont matter* okay so i also think that-

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starrwulfe · 2 months

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Last Week Today! S2024E7

🤦‍♂️ OK, I skipped out on hella posts for this category. I know, I know… I’ll backfill them later, but I really hadn’t done much of anything noteworthy I guess so there wasn’t the motivation to post one of these… Which is not the point of course, so I’ll just shut up and get on with this installment. Just watch out for the backfills if you’re keeping up with this on the socials or RSS or email or whatever.

🩺 I had my yearly physical exam, and it went well except for the one note under intensive fasting glucose being 101mg/dL which to make a long story short, prompted my doctor to admonish me about getting enough exercise or else worry about diabetes being a thing. Other than that, I’m just as healthy as ever.

🏋️ It’s no secret that since returning Stateside from Japan, I haven’t really been getting enough exercise, walks, runs, all that jazz and have low-key been stressed and a bit depressed. I have zero motivation to go to a gym; I don’t like doing routines so much to begin with, but I really don’t like being in a room with total strangers trying to figure out how to make my body do stuff to burn fat. It literally makes me even more stressed out than just jogging/riding a bike by myself. SuperWife and I had been going to the gym together at first, but her job changed, and our schedules fell out of alignment for that; I lost my motivation about a year later and here we are. I tried going to the little gym in my area, but my job no longer subsidizes gym membership, and probably more influential, the guy that runs it keeps asking me to join a “boot camp” class. I don’t want to join shit, I don’t want to be around people, leave me the fsck alone, I’m already anxious as hell just being there. So I stopped going.

🚲️ Excuses aside, I’m just gonna go and buy myself a bike and do what I used to do overseas that kept me fit in the first place. I used to cycle all over the place. I can’t walk or take trains like I did there but I’m going to try to at least bike around here and get out more. Did you know I once went almost a whole week without leaving my house a few months ago? (Working from home has its downsides too!) I miss Japan for my social life and urban living more than anything; it kept me on the “life gym” plan where my mind and body constantly got a workout every day without effort. Just living my daily JapanLife kept me fit. Now I actually have to actively work on it. I appreciate any tips on keeping motivated and healthy from y’all out there reading this please.

🚸 Moving on, the kids are doing well. I just realized we’ll have 0 mini-mes that will be in elementary school after this school year. Little Monkey will be a middle schooler. When dafuq did my cute little simian who learned to climb up my back like a ladder and sit on my shoulders get to be on the precipice of teenagedom?

🚗 At the other end of the scale, The Big One just passed her written Drivers Exam and is now permitted. I really wasn’t ready for this one. It’s not like she’s chomping at the bit to drive (kinda opposite actually – she frequently takes our fledgling bus system around here) but it’s always good to have another driver in the family in case something happens. I wish I had the cheddar to get a hoopty for her and Boy-Type (he’ll be at a permittable age this time next year 😨) to drive… But even if I did, we can’t afford the insurance on a 16 year old right now I’m sure.

🎨 Speaking of Boy-Type, his drawing skills are getting very good. Fingers crossed for him to be the next Akira Toriyama or Hayao Miyazaki. I’ll settle for him just being that guy that paints to cool murals in trendy shopping plazas and shops like his uncle does back in Tokyo. Getting paid to do what you like to do is the shit. One of the classes at the arts high school he’ll need to pay attention in is Creative Business Management. I hope he soaks it all up when the time comes.

🦸‍♀️ SuperWife is out here doing her thing and will attend a intensive technical training bootcamp style class this summer since she’ll have more time for that while the school district is on summer break. I think she’d make a great tech support technician or level 1 project lead; her time management is better than mine and that’s always been half the job for me. I can’t wait to have crazy “vim vs emacs” type discussions with her. LOL

🏁 Lastly, I’m looking forward to spring, warmer temps, and getting back out in the RV. We’re set to head down to Jacksonville, Florida for a few days during the first week of April and I can’t wait. I love being on the road with the tribe and I feel we’re at our best together out in the world exploring like this. We’ve hit daylight savings already and 25ºC/80ºF was hit for the first time last week too. Just gotta hang on a bit longer to shake these winter doldrums!

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mikeys-thighs · 2 years

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Somethin’ Wrong Here

Bishop x Reader

Summary: Bishop’s fiancee’s reaction to some the events in Season 4, Episode 4.

Warnings: language, mentions of alcohol consumption, arguing/yelling

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: This has been taking up space in my head since I watched the episode and I just had to write it out. No use of y/n or gender pronouns. Hope y’all like it despite it being an all hurt/no comfort...

Part 1 | Part 2

A text from Cielo had you angrily driving to the clubhouse. How dare that asshole you called a fiancé pull this kind of shit. All that drama with Canche and Yuma had caused a small rift in between you and Obispo; it was actually a bigger issue than either of you wanted to admit. You had been fighting constantly since the attack at the clubhouse, but you were patient and hoped things would work out soon. Well you were trying to but it seemed Bishop thought it was easier to drink his problems away. The wedding had even been pushed back a couple of months in the wait for things to calm down. Unfortunately things just seemed to be getting worse and not better, but as his old lady that is what you signed up for. You knew what you were getting into when you first fell in love with him. But you never expected this.

Your car all but screeched to a halt once inside the club gates. You took a second to calm down a little before leaving the car. It was important that you did not cause a scene until you confirmed what Cielo texted was true. If some random puta was actually putting the moves on him and he wasn’t shutting it down, there was going to be hell to pay. One more deep breath and then you were walking through the main door. 5 seconds. All it took was five seconds for your world to flip upside down. There was your old man doing shots with some woman you had never seen before. He was too wrapped up in telling her how he could keep up with her all night to even notice that someone had walked into the clubhouse. It was obvious to anyone breathing that those two were flirting and it instantly made your blood boil. The fucking audacity of this man.

You slammed the door loudly, finally gaining his attention. Bishop was also too far gone to even register that he was in some deep shit. You stomped over to where he was sitting with that bitch, and you were almost positive that there was actual steam coming out of your ears.

“Obispo Losa, you got a lot of fucking nerve.” You started not caring that you were drawing attention.

“Cariño! Sit down, have a drink.” He drunkenly smiled at you.

“Really that’s all you have to say to me! This is the first time I have seen you in DAYS and I find you flirting with some skank. But you want me to have a drink. Sure makes sense.” You were fuming at this point.

The rando chose to jump in “Seems like you could use one, sweetheart. Might help get that stick out your ass.”

Your eyebrows shot up your forehead. Who the hell did she think she was? Was she part of the reason you were here right now? Yes, but you would deal with her afterwards.

“Excuse me. I don’t even know you gringita, Also I wasn't fucking talking to you, so mind ya business,” You snapped, “And you,” you turned to Bishop ready to give him a piece of your mind.

“Hey! Watch it. Treenie is a nice girl. She enjoys my company unlike somebody.” He cut you off. He no longer looked happy to see you; he was scowling now

“Fuck you. I love spending time with you. I don’t particularly like this version of you though.” You gestured to his current state. “I also don’t like receiving texts from Cielo about your drinking and flirting.” He went to defend himself, but your intense glare stopped him. “Don’t try to deny it, pendejo. I heard the little innuendo you both made just now. Not to mention the way you were looking at her. It is a look I am very familiar with.”

“I’m sorry, isn't he a grown man? He can do whatever he wants.” Treenie interrupted, a stupid smirk on her face.

“I thought I told you to mind your business. Butt in again and I’ll break your nose.” You threatened turning your gaze on her. A threat all the Santo Padre members knew you would act on and probably soon.

Bishop slammed his hand on the table,and you jumped at the noise. If he was mad at you before he was downright infuriated now.A shot glass shattered as it rolled off the table and you slowly met Bish’s eyes. There was nothing but rage and hate swirling in them, not even a smidge of their usual adoration. Even during your worst fights he had never looked at you with such contempt. He sternly pointed a finger at you.

“I told you to watch the attitude. Now I don’t know what the fuck has gotten into you lately, but it ends now.”

You started to argue back but he stopped you.

“No! I’m talking, you’re listening. You don’t get to come in here and act like a fucking brat. This is my sanctuary where I come to find peace from all your fucking nagging. Except now I gotta deal with shit here, and at home.”

You could feel your face getting hot with embarrassment. It was one thing for you to argue in private, but something else entirely to do it in public. You could feel everyone’s gazes on the two of you. It was probably like watching a car accident . They knew they should probably look away but couldn’t.

This was not how you saw this going. Honestly you had no idea how it was going to turn out when you got here. You figured you would yell at him and maybe fight the bitch for trying to sleep with your fiancé. Then Bishop would’ve dragged to a secluded part of the clubhouse for a round of make up sex. So what happened next caught you completely off guard.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe there was a reason I haven’t been home? Huh? Well, I’ll tell you why. It is because I can’t fucking stand to be around you. All you do is bitch and complain about everything. The dirty dishes, the neighbors dog shitting in our lawn, picking the cake flavor for a wedding I DON’T EVEN FUCKING WANT!” He continued on but you stopped listening.

He didn’t want to marry you… That had opened the floodgates and you were quick to wipe the tears away. Was all that planning and how excited he seemed to spend the rest of your lives together a lie? An act he put on to keep you happy? Well if that was what he wanted then fine.

You swiftly took off the ring on your left ring finger and chucked it as his stupid head. It was enough to shut him up. The clatter of the ring seemed to echo in the dead quiet clubhouse. It also caused everyone in the room to unfreeze and turn away. You didn’t bother to wipe your tears as you stepped closer to him. With a gentle tug of his beard, that he didn’t deserve, you forced him to make eye contact with you. He had to know you meant what you were about to say.

“I hate you Obispo and I never want to see you again.” You turn on your heel and leave the clubhouse.

You had made it all the way to your car before somebody followed you. As you looked over your shoulder you saw it was Gilly. He didn’t say anything, just held his hand for your keys. You had no energy to argue, so you handed them over and got in the passenger seat. He sent you a small smile before driving away. Thankfully he didn’t try to start a conversation, you were too busy crying anyway.. After dropping him off, you drove to the closest hotel. There was no way you could actually return to the home you used to share with Bishop tonight. It would hurt too much. Although the hotel room didn’t do much to dull the ache in your heart either.

#bishop losa x reader #bishop losa imagine #mayans imagine #mayans x reader #mayans mc

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vkelleyart · 4 years

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Story Time: Get a load of what happened to me at Starbucks today.

There’s a running joke among people who know me personally that I unwittingly go out in public with a sign on my forehead stating “I Am Non-Threatening. Come Talk To Me.” Because if there’s a chance a bizarre conversation with a total stranger is going to happen, I’m typically the person it happens to.

Some context: I have been pretty darn sick this week. (It’s not Coronavirus, don’t worry.) Since the work in my queue for my day job is comprised entirely of audio narration right now, and I currently sound like a waterlogged Demi Moore, I haven’t been able to work these last couple of days. As a result, I’ve been using my down time to knock out as much of Manu’s redesign as possible. Today, to ensure I didn’t spend the day languishing in sinus misery, I medicated the crap out of myself and took Manu to the Starbucks down the block from my son’s day care.

I hit the bathroom, then picked an empty table, but as soon as I sat down with my venti Comfort Tea and started tweaking the inks on my iPad, I felt the eyes of the man next to me looking over my shoulder.

When I looked up, he had his phone out. “I’m sorry,” he said (in a thick accent I couldn’t place geographically), “I don’t want to disturb. I notice you art. You are artist!”

I tried to smile. “Yes, I’m... Well, I’m trying to be,” I croaked.

He leaned in, like he was sharing a secret.

“I am artist, too.”

He stuck out his hand.

I gently took it, grateful for the bathroom trip I just took in which I washed the scourge off of my fingers.

“Can I?” he asked, holding his phone up.

“Take a picture? Uh... sure,” I said. It’s not like he would be able to steal Manu out from under me or anything, I figured. The panel I was tweaking was magnified out to Guam.

“I am artist. Architect and Designer,” he clarified while he steadied his phone over my iPad. “I am Ilker. What is your name?”

“I’m Venessa” I said, trying to be polite. This, I thought warily, is precisely how I get myself into trouble. I’m too damn nice.

“You know, I come to America twenty years ago from Turkey...”

I put down my stylus. This was going to be a while.

“I like Turkey,” he explained. “I like the country and I like the people. But I am artist. I am not... religious man.”

I nodded.

“I told my wife I was going to go to America and she said, “what are you going to do? You don’t have job! You don’t have money! No Visa!” And I said, “I am artist and architect. I will paint and sell my paintings.

“So I come to America alone. To New York City. I sit outside, and I paint. And people, they liked my paintings. They bought them. This one for $30, that one for $50.

“One day, a man comes over to me and he say, “I like your painting. I see you are also architect.” And he gives me his number and asks me to go to meeting at his office. Because he wants to offer me a job. He starts to talk about a building contract.

“I tell him I don’t know anything about contracts. I have no Visa. I am not American citizen. But he says, “That’s okay. I will take care of everything. You will have nothing to worry about.” And this man, he gave me a job. $173,000 a year. And my wife, he gave her a job too. She was project assistant. I bring her and my two daughters over from Turkey.”

“Wow,” I said, not fully believing the veracity of what sounded like a full-on immigration fairy tale.

“Here,” said Ilker, unlocking his phone and opening up his Facebook app. “I show you my work.” He paused and looked up at me. “I am interrupting. You don’t mind?”

At this point, I was invested. I had to see. Because whatever he was about to show me would either prove or disprove this yarn he was spinning. “Please,” I said, gesturing for him to go ahead.

He opened his photos and my jaw dropped. His work... was UNREAL.

“This is building I designed on Madison Ave.... And this one in Chelsea...”

Holy crap. I had just been to Chelsea with my sister last month on a trip to see a broadway show. I had crossed the intersection of the building he was, at this moment, telling me he designed.

He flipped through more buildings. These, he’d designed in Washington, DC. In Bethesda. In Arlington. All beautiful, streamlined, modern structures I had visited and parked my car in front of. He told me he did much of his concept work freehand. That he worked exclusively in natural media. His preferred media was pen, ink, watercolors, and chalks.

Between photos of his wife and daughters, he went on to show me photos from the RUSSIAN EXHIBITION OF HIS ARCHITECTURE ARTWORK.

Y’all, I was stunned. I couldn’t believe the talent I was sitting next to. Scattered among these gloriously rendered images of some of the most beautiful building concepts I’d ever seen were paintings of scenes in Central Park, the National Mall, and nudes from a life-drawing session he attends from time to time.

When he was done flipping through his phone, he looked at me and smiled. “I hope you don’t mind that I interrupt you. I show you all this because what you are doing is very good. And you should be encouraged. To draw is to make beauty.”

I nodded, a lump in my throat. “Thank you,” I managed. “Your work is astonishing. I don’t even know what to say. What is your name again?”

He held out his hand once more. “Ilker Kocahan,” he said. “I am getting more coffee. Can I get you one?”

I looked at my still-full venti cup. “No thank you. But here, please take my card.”

He held my dinky business card like I’d handed him a treasure and thanked me.

Then Ilker got his coffee, and left the coffee shop.

At some point in his ramblings he talked about America as a place of dreams. How he credits this country with helping him rise to the top of his field where he is now able to sell his paintings for $800-$1000 a piece now that he’s retired. My heart ached to hear him talk about that, knowing how our leadership’s positions on immigrants have taken such a dark and horrifying turn.

Imagine the buildings and museums and public places that would never have been if a business man in the park hadn’t lifted up a Turkish painter who spoke little English.

And now that painter was paying it forward on me.

I still feel pretty darn sick. I’ve still got body aches and a nose that has taken the rest of my face hostage.

But today was a really good day. And I just wanted to share it with you in case you are looking for reasons to keep drawing/painting/dancing/writing. It all counts and it is all good.

If you would like to see Ilker Kocohan’s work, please click here.

#Immigrants. We get the job done.#Edit: I’m sorry this post is so long. I made the mistake of writing it on my cell and now I can’t put any read-mores in. ☹️

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sergeantxrogers · 3 years

Text

| missed you |

Summary: When Bucky finally got home, you realized you had missed each other more than you thought.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (post TFATWS)

Word count: 3.6k

Warnings: Smut!!!, swearing, choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, y’all), spit kink maybe?, praise, dog tags- they deserve a warning all on their own

___________________________

The clock always seemed to go twice as slow if you were waiting for something. Or someone. Each minute felt like 10, and each hour felt like 5.

You glanced at your phone, waiting for any new messages, but all you saw was the one you had gotten a couple hours ago.

Bucky: I just landed. On my way back.

6:38 p.m.

The clock above your TV in the living room read 8:40, and a frustrated sigh left your body. Bucky had been away too long, in your completely humble opinion, and New York had never seemed farther from Chicago than tonight.

The growing anxiety you felt when he was in Europe, with Zemo, had reached it’s peak when you watched the events in New York happen live on the news. All your worries melted from your mind and body when he finally answered his phone and you heard his voice telling you he was alright.

When Bucky had first told you he was moving to Chicago, claiming “the people were better” (or whatever bullshit reason he had pulled out of his ass), you thought it would be easier on your nervous heart. You were wrong, obviously. The whole ordeal just gave you more reasons to be worried and afraid.

Lost in your thoughts, with your legs kicked up on the coffee table, you hadn’t heard the front door open and shut, and hadn’t noticed the heavy footsteps walking down the hall, and hadn’t recognized the dark figure at the doorway, until he called your name.

Your eyes widened when you saw him, your body immediately jumping up from the couch. He dropped his duffle bag on the ground by his feet and opened his arms, and you ran into them like your life depended on it.

Bucky’s arms tightened around your waist and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his warm breath fanning your skin. Your arms made their way around his neck, and he lifted you off the floor a few inches, squeezing you.

“Okay, okay, Buck!” you said through a strained laugh.

“You’re gonna kill me,” you breathed.

He hummed into your neck, placing a kiss to it before pulling his head back. His hands held your cheeks, and a smile played on his lips. His eyes were tired. Tired, but relieved.

“I missed you,” he whispered, as if it was a secret.

Your hands gripped his wrists and held on, squeezing once as you said:

“I missed you more."

“I highly doubt that, baby,” he insisted, “Ya know how annoying it is to be surrounded by men all the time?”

Your smile dropped and you gave him a pointed look, and he laughed at your incredulous face.

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But Bucky, I’m always surrounded by men- I get it,” he chuckled. You shook your head, trying to keep the smile that was threatening to appear from showing.

Bucky let out a happy sigh and his eyes took in every inch of your body standing before him.

“I could kiss you right now,” he said quietly.

You lifted your hands to his jaw, angling his head up to make eye contact with him.

“Then why don’t you?”

And that was all it took for him to surge forward, soft lips meeting yours, and you sighed into the kiss. Your hands went up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in his hair, as his tongue swiped across your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth to let him in, almost ritually. His hands travelled from your face to your waist, then to your hips, pulling you closer to him, if that was even possible.

His lips left yours and started leaving wet, heavy kisses on your jaw, then down your neck, and your eyes closed. You let out a short sigh when you felt his lips meet the skin above your collarbone, biting at the skin and claiming your body as his own. One of his hands left your hip, but quickly came down in a short, light slap on your ass, and you knew him well enough to know what that meant. Jump.

So you did, trusting him to catch your legs when they wrapped around his waist, and he did, holding you against him with a strong hold on your thighs.

Your hands held you steady, gripping onto his shoulders. Bucky moved his kisses from your collarbone to the base of your throat, and you threw your head back, fingers digging into his jacket. He placed three sweet kisses up the column of your throat, before meeting your own lips again.

“Buck,” you breathed into the kiss, hands tugging at his hair. He just hummed, hands rubbing the back of your thighs, and your legs tightened reflexively around him.

“Couch,” you managed to get out before his metal hand came up to hold the back of your head, and before you knew it, you were on your back on the large couch you had decided to splurge on a while back exactly for this reason.

Bucky hovered above you, in between your legs, the hand that was on the back of your head now resting against your neck. No pressure, it was just enough for you to be aware it was there, and your heart started racing faster.

Bucky straightened himself, on his knees in front of you, and you watched him take his jacket off, pulling his shirt over his head too.

Your hand reflexively reached out to touch him, but he grabbed your wrist and pushed it back, into the couch next to your head. You felt the familiar heat growing deep in your stomach when he dropped his head down to kiss you again, the metal of his dog tags cold against your neck.

Your brows furrowed and your hips pressed higher into his, but he moved away from you as soon as you made contact. You couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips when he pulled his lips away, the air around you feeling colder without him on top of you. An amused smile tugged the corners of his lips and he raised his eyebrows at you.

“You know, babe, I don’t think this is fair,” he teased, and you gave him a confused look, to which he answered by giving a slight tug on your cotton shorts.

“You still have all your clothes on,” he stated simply, and as soon as the words left his mouth, he pulled the shorts down your legs as fast as humanly possible. A chill ran down your spine and another wave of heat washed over the pit of your stomach when he pulled his body back, dropping lower so his head was level with your clothed pussy. You lifted your head to get a better look at him, heavily breathing dangerously close to where you needed him and you groaned inwardly, tangling your fingers in his hair in an attempt to bring his face closer. Keeping his head in place, Bucky faked a pout at you, hands running along the insides of your thighs. You tried closing them, out of habit, but he kept them in place.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he cooed, tracing his nose along your thigh, lips teasing the edge of your panties.

You whimpered as your hips writhed underneath him, his eyes watching you intently.

“Use your words, honey, c’mon,” he said softly, tracing a finger down your slit, still covered in your panties, and your eyes almost popped out of their sockets at the sudden contact.

“Wanna tell Bucky what’s got your panties so wet, baby?” he teased, and you met his eyes again right in the moment when he pressed a kiss to where he knew your clit was. Your hips bucked into his touch, but his metal arm held you in place.

“Bucky, please-,” you let out breathlessly, eyes screwed shut at the feeling of him running his nose up and down your pussy, so close yet so far from where you were burning for him.

“Please what? All you gotta do is ask, baby,” he spoke against your core, and you pulled even tighter on his hair.

“Please, please touch me, please,” you begged through a desperate whine, and as soon as you did, he hummed against you and pulled your soaked panties to the side, the cool air meeting your hot pussy sending goosebumps down your legs.

Your back arched and a moan left your lips when Bucky swiped a long, slow lick from your entrance to your clit. He took his sweet time, watching you throw your head back into the couch when he sucked on your clit. You felt him smile against you and you panted slightly, opening your eyes to see him buried between your folds, eating you out like he was starved. You supposed he was, after spending that much time away from you. He quickened the pace of his licks, alternating between lapping at your entrance and teasing your clit, and you preened when his fingers gripped your hips. You knew they would leave bruises, dangerously pressed into your skin and bones, but all you could focus on and care about now was Bucky humming against your pussy and his beard scratching your inner thighs.

His hands went up from your hips to your waist, and your hand found one of his, gripping it tightly. Your legs wound tightly around his head, he felt his jeans getting tighter by the minute, and it took everything in him not to grind into the couch with every whine and plead that left your lips.

You felt the familiar coil tighten in your belly, and you dug your nails into Bucky’s hand.

“B-Buck-,” you breathed, and he nodded in between your legs. The hand that you weren’t holding disappeared from your waist, and you didn’t have time to miss the warm contact before you felt one of his thick fingers draw slowly into you. He pulled it out and back in once, before you fell apart. You arched your back and moaned his name out, hands shooting down to push his head closer to you. You writhed underneath him as your orgasm washed over you, and he placed soft kisses on your clit as you rode it out, eventually your legs falling limp on his shoulders and back.

“Baby...,” you called for him, too spent to open your eyes just yet, and you felt him come up to you again, kissing you. You groaned softly at the taste of yourself on his swollen lips, your hands running across his shoulders and back.

A deep breath left his lips when they left yours, eyes meeting yours, and you knew he wasn’t done with you yet.

Bucky’s head dropped down to press a long kiss on your neck, his hands pushing your shirt up your stomach and over your breasts. His lips made their way from your neck to your boob, kissing the area right above your bra softly before nipping at it, eliciting a yelp from you. You felt him smirk against your skin and he kissed further down your stomach, cold metal of his dog tags trailing down your torso, before he pulled your panties down your legs completely.

“God,” he muttered, lips pressed to your right hip.

“I fucking missed-” a kiss to your stomach.

“This fucking body-” a kiss to your ribcage.

“So much-” a kiss to your chest.

You were at a loss for words, instead focused on the hard outline in his jeans, pressing insistently at your inner thigh. Kitten-licks to your neck, fingers tracing your sides, he wanted to take his sweet time with you.

You, on the other hand, weren’t as patient, hands making their way down his bare stomach and fumbling with his belt buckle. Finally unbuckling it, and unbuttoning his pants, you teased your fingers under the hem of his boxer briefs, bringing them around to his sides, raking your nails up his back and soon your hands came back to his messy hair.

“Bucky please,” you moaned, hips pushing up to his to find any sort of relief, and he chuckled.

“What is it, baby? What do you need?” he quipped, almost sarcastically, and you bit your bottom lip.

His thumb came up to pull it from your teeth, tracing it over your lip then down your chin, pulling your mouth open. You watched with desperate eyes as a strand of spit left from between his lips, falling onto your tongue, and a needy whine sounded from the back of your throat when he forced your mouth closed again.

“Swallow,” he demanded quietly with furrowed brows, leaving no room to argue, so you did.

In the blink of an eye, Bucky grabbed your hips and flipped you over on your stomach, pulling them so you were ass-up in front of him. Your heart jumped at the fast action and you arched your back, pushing your butt towards him. His hard cock, still in his tight boxers, met your pussy and you knew there would be a wet spot on them. A low groan left Bucky’s lips, and you felt his hand wrap itself around your throat, pulling you up against his torso.

“You think it’s funny to tease me, baby?” he muttered into your ear, and you gave no answer.

The hand around your throat tightened its hold and his other hand grabbed a fistful of your hair, and your head was pulled down to rest on his shoulder

“I asked you something,” he whispered, lips moving against your ear in close proximity.

“I do,” you answered simply, and you felt him tense behind you. Gotcha.

Without saying anything else, Bucky let go of your neck and your hair, and your body dropped in front of him to the position it was in before. You heard a shuffle behind you and before you even realized he took his boxers off, you felt him.

Teasing you with the head of his cock, Bucky leaned over your body, and from where your head was laying on the end of the couch you saw his metal hand next to you, holding himself steady. You couldn’t help pushing your ass into him more, but he pushed it back and gave you a low chuckle.

“No, no baby, we’re doin’ it my way.”

Without warning, his flesh hand landed in a sharp spank on your ass, and a greedy whine escaped your lips. He massaged the area that was already starting to burn deliciously, and he leaned down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades.

“Please, Bucky-,” you stammered, squeezing your eyes shut when he pushed the tip of his cock inside you.

“What? Please what?” he asked lowly. Letting out a frustrated huff, your hand reached forward, searching for anything to hold onto, and wrapped around his vibranium wrist next to your head.

“C’mon, princess, use your words,” he teased. You hated how unaffected he seemed, and hated how little it took for you to turn into putty in his hands.

“Buck- Bucky, please fuck me,” sighing out the last few words when he pushed himself into you slow and steady as soon as you said his name.

You felt him bottom out, and buried your face in the couch cushion under you, never being able to get used to the size of him. Your pussy clenched around him involuntarily, and he groaned deeply when you whimpered.

“Please,” you wanted to say, but it came out no louder than a soft whisper, “Please move.”

Bucky let out a low fuck at your begging, pushing the side of your head into the couch and pulling out, before pushing himself back in. A moan left your body at the burning stretch in your lower abdomen, and he took that a sign to move faster. So he did.

Sometimes, when Bucky fucked you, he fucked you hard, and fast, leaving bruises on your hips, hand prints on your ass and hickeys on your thighs where only he could see them. Other times, he fucked you deep and slow, whispering words of affection in your ears that sent you over the edge. He knew how to send you spiraling, knew what buttons to push and how to push them. This time, Bucky fucked you like he missed you, because he did. With every hard, steady thrust of his hips, a soft, whiney moan escaped your parted lips, and you couldn’t form words.

His hand on your head kept it from moving, and you couldn’t form a coherent thought as you stared, eyes heavy lidded and mouth open, at his hand next to your head. Your fingers tightened their grip around his wrist, moving up slightly to grab his arm, and you gasped when the hand on your head moved to push your back down even more than you thought was possible, causing it to arch more and him to hit new angles.

“B... ,” you couldn’t even call out his name as he drilled into you, whispering into your ear words that you just barely registered, something along the lines of “my baby’s doing so good” and “pussy made just for me”.

A wave of something hot washed over your body, and all of a sudden you were hyperaware of the slight sheen of sweat that covered your body, underneath your shirt, and the heavy breaths leaving Bucky’s mouth.

He pressed your back even harder, ruthlessly pumping into your pussy like it would run away from him.

“My sweet baby,” he groaned through his thrusts, dropping to place a kiss to the back of your neck, and you whined at the simple touch.

“So- so good, Bucky,” you managed to stutter, and he hummed in affirmation against your neck.

You felt your stomach tighten, signaling the wave that was about to wash over you. After hearing the urgent, desperate moan that came from you, Bucky’s hand moved to your hip, gripping it harshly.

“Buck, I’m gonna-,” you warned him, and he reached his hand around under you. All it took was three rubs to your clit for you to fall apart underneath him.

Letting out his name in a prolonged, loud, almost embarrassingly pornographic moan, the coil in your stomach snapped and your legs went numb. You arched your back, pushing your ass hard against his hips, and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. Your hand gripping his arm went limp, dropping to hang over the side of the couch. A few tears fell over your lashline, without you realizing you had even teared up, and then your whole body relaxed in his hold.

Bucky’s thrusts, in the meantime, had slowed, becoming sloppier, and the heat from his cum pouring into you was almost comforting in a way, spreading warmth through your already sore lower abdomen.

“Shit, doll,” he hissed through clenched teeth, letting out a deep sigh as he dropped his body onto yours, and you let out a small grunt accompanied by a lazy giggle when he started peppering the side of your face with kisses, moving strands of hair from your sweaty forehead.

“You were so good for me, baby...” he whispered into your ear between kisses, and all you could do was nod, eyes drooping tiredly.

Eventually, he pulled himself out of you carefully, and you whimpered at the sore burn between your legs from your thighs being stretched so much for so long, not to mention his hips snapping into yours at a bruising rate. You laid face down on the couch, spent and tired with your eyes closed, hearing Bucky walk away behind you. He came back after a few moments, floor creaking underneath him, and you slightly jerked with a start when you felt something cool against your legs, before realizing he was wiping the aftermath between them, presumably with a towel. You honestly couldn’t tell, you were too tired to focus on anything but the sound of Bucky’s steady breathing behind you.

He walked away again, coming back quicker this time, and you cracked one eye open just enough to see him walking towards you in his boxers again, carrying a pair of your panties in his hand. A tired, dopey smile graced your face when you felt his hands pull your panties up your legs softly, and you pushed your hips up slightly to help him put them on. Goosebumps attacked your bare skin when he pressed his lips to the tender skin of your ass where it had been slapped, and you sighed.

“Buck,” you muttered, half of your face smushed against the couch, muffling your voice.

“Yes, bubba?” he asked behind you, thumbs rubbing the backs of your thighs.

“Lay with me a bit?” you asked.

And you had asked him so prettily, so sweetly, he couldn’t bear to say no. So he laid beside you, pulling you into him by your waist, carting his fingers through your hair.

“That was great,” you muffled against the couch sleepily, “Missed you.”

Bucky chuckled at your tone and buried his nose into your neck.

“I missed you more.”

“Not possible,” you drawled, but you were too drained to pull any sort of sarcasm or playfulness through the remark. You felt his soft lips on your neck, hot air blowing through his nose against your jaw, and you let out a yawn.

“Sleep.”

You whined softly, not wanting to fall asleep when he had just gotten home, wanting to spend as much time as you could with him, but you felt his fingers smooth out the crease above your furrowed brows, relaxing your face.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up, I promise.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #marvel #marvel fanfic #mcu #mcu fanfiction #winter soldier #winter soldier fanfiction

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odekiisu · 4 years

Text

Basic Guide to Clone Trooper Armour

I don’t know about you guys, but I have a hard time keeping the terms for various parts of clone armour straight in my mind. So, I decided to make this Guide To Armour, to make my life easier for those times I’m drawing or writing stuff and need to reference what this, that or the other piece is called, how it’s put on or taken off. (I’ve also tried to include/come up with some casual or slang terms for some parts because you cannot seriously expect these guys to use the Right Proper Terminology for everything all of the time.)

This is based on the Clone Wars cartoons, because that’s what I know best. Also, this is just the standard armour of regular troopers; if y’all want something about the possible additions/variations that you could have then lmk and I’ll see what I can put together I guess?

Note: a lot of this terminology is taken from medieval knights’ armour. Many terms are originally French; alternative names provided where possible. I did do a bit of research on medieval plate armour, which is the closest thing I can think of to clone armour, but I am by no means an expert so if you have any input or corrections feel free to @ me. Likewise, if you’ve cosplayed as a clone trooper or stormtrooper, I’d very much like to hear about your experience wearing this stuff, how it moves and how it might be similar or different to the “real thing” so to speak.

Figure 1: Clone trooper armour, front view. Kix got chosen for this because he’s a vain little bastard and loves to be painted. (ETA: this diagram now comes with a second, funnier version.)

(long post under cut)

Figure 2: Back view of armour.

According to Wookieepedia: The armour is produced on Kamino and has UV spectrum markings visible to Kaminoans. It is made of plastoid-alloy composite, and the plates are attached to the bodysuit via magnatomic gription panels. In general, Phase II armour is lighter, stronger and more ergonomic than Phase I, which has been described as heavy and uncomfortable (Wookieepedia also says that it weighs ‘just under forty kilograms’ which sounds like way too much but eh, I’ll roll with it.)

Body glove/bodysuit – the stuff worn under the armour. Provides thermoregulation, some level of protection from things like blasterfire, vacuum, etc. AKA: blacks.

Helmet – The Bucket. Stuffed full of various tech: tracking device, display screen, comlink… Phase I helmets also have life support capabilities, while Phase II helmets do not, requiring an external oxygen supply*. Helmet crest contains comlink antenna. AKA: bucket, I think Rex once called them sun-bonnets, etc… this is the piece likely to have the most slang terms associated with it. Go wild.

* this is according to Wookieepedia; I’m a bit sceptical but I haven’t yet seen the episode it refers to. I headcanon that Phase II is capable of limited life support for emergency situations, but extended missions require external respirators.

Cuirass – there is some conflicting information on whether this refers to just the front chest armour or both front and back. If both, it consists of breastplate and backplate, joined at the sides and shoulders. Shoulder connections appear to be different for Phase I and Phase II: Phase I has a separate piece covering the shoulder seam, implying that it can be opened, whereas Phase II looks like it has an integrated flexible band; it may or may not be possible to disconnect. Either way, the front and back pieces must be able to separate in order to get the whole thing on.

Plackart – belly piece, wraps around the back to protect kidneys as well. Probably flexible to some extent, has been seen to slide down under belt, as demonstrated by Jesse in Figure 3. Might also have to have at least one open-able seam in it in order for troopers to get into it efficiently.

Figure 3: I have no idea how the lower edge of this isn’t stabbing him in the crotch, but *shrug*.

Spaulder/shoulder bell – also known as pauldrons irl, but that term refers to a different item this context (the pauldrons that commanders, captains and ARC troopers wear), so I feel like it might be better to differentiate between them with different terms to avoid confusion. That’s just my opinion though, you feel free to do as you wish.

Rerebrace – bicep plate. Phase I has cutouts in the back to fit pointy elbows (see below); Phase II does not.

Couter – elbow plate. Pointy elbows in Phase I, unpointy elbows in Phase II, as shown on Figure 4. In Phase I appear to be attached to vambraces in the animated version, Phase II is more mobile. I admit, I’m not a huge fan of this word, I kinda prefer elbow plates.

Figure 4: Phase I and II elbows. Am I getting way too into this that it’s gotten to the point of studying clone elbows? *shrug* who knows.

Vambrace – forearm armour. Has wrist-mounted comlink (see below).

Gauntlet plate – covers back of hand. The 212th absolutely calls these “droid-punchers”, no you cannot convince me otherwise. I think I’ve seen fanon that some troopers sharpen the front edge of this plate to do more damage when punching. Decide for yourself if plastoid alloy would do more damage to the metal of a droid’s chassis if sharpened or unsharpened (and therefore sturdier).

Codpiece/crotch plate – covers the front hip and crotch area. Possible slang term, courtesy of @mockingjay34: cockblock

Skidplate – covers butt and back hip. A lot of troopers probably just call this piece their shebs, and once again you cannot convince me otherwise. Note that in the clone wars cartoon, Phase I armour is triangular in the back and has a sort of erm… diaper shape, in that the codpiece and skidplate are connected in the crotch (I cannot imagine that being comfortable in any situation, but then again, I have Thicc™ Thighs. Do clones have thigh gaps? Also, I would not want to get pinched by the armour joint between crotch and thigh plates).

Figure 5: Sniper Butts! (Featuring Echo and Fives in quite possibly the only comfortable position in this armour.)

In Phase II the crotch and butt pieces are separated, which sounds a lot more sensible, as well as having better butt coverage – think cheeky panties vs full briefs.

Figure 6: Hardcase kindly demonstrating the new crotch plate alongside some significant gaps in his armour… please get yourself some bigger shoulder bells my dude!

I’d imagine that, given the amount of time these guys spend fully armoured, there should be some way of conveniently opening some of this up or removing individual plates for practical reasons (and if any particular trooper wanted to use this feature for… other things, well, that’s their own business).

Cuisse/Thigh plate – covers thighs. Phase I and II have different shapes in the back to account for skidplate shape, with Phase II having significantly less coverage in the upper thigh/butt area, but I guess better range of motion.

Figure 7: Troopers Hardcase and Dogma demonstrating the Butt Cutouts, or Buttouts.

Poleyn/knee plate/knee pad – important for maintaining kneecap integrity. Like elbow plates, appears to be integrated into greaves in Phase I, but moving freely in Phase II.

Greaves – cover shins, nothing fancy.

Boots – boots. Do not appear to be armoured, are soft enough to bend your toes for walking/kneeling/whatever you need bendy toes for.

Belt pouches/boxes/compartments – A place to keep your stuff when out & about. I’m assuming this is a Pocket Substitute. Clones deserve pockets too!

Comlink – Generally four large square buttons and one smaller one (live action has more buttons). They also have comlinks in their helmets. Wookieepedia mentioned that they used wrist comms in the show so that the audience could clearly see when characters were talking to each other. Possibly used for long-range communication, whereas the ones in the buckets could be for shorter range?

Life support/those box things on their back – I have no idea what they’re actually called but these also have different designs for Phase I and II. On stormtroopers they contain a power pack and a small oxygen supply, and I guess it’s reasonable to assume that they have the same life support function for clone troopers. Also read somewhere that they have comlink scanner for long-range communication?

Thermal detonator – why would they all have bombs on their back? Seems unsafe. Also I don’t think I’ve ever seen one used? Idk. These things confuse me.

#star wars #the clone wars #swtcw #clone troopers #clone armor #clone wars meta #wow this got long #also damn I've missed just... sitting down with a mug of tea and going down a research rabbit hole or three #star wars meta

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly.

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow.

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way.

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted.

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever.

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.”

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.”

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?”

He can never know. “Obviously.”

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.”

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way?

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.”

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.”

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this.

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.”

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.”

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?”

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.”

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation.

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way.

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat.

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.”

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.”

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.”

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?”

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.”

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again.

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier.

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me.

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve.

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?”

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?”

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.”

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?”

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.”

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm.

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning.

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?”

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively.

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?”

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent.

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.”

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame.

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one.

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.”

Understanding? “What is there to understand?”

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable.

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea.

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.”

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected.

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.”

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.”

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?”

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?”

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words.

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure.

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?”

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly.

“What kind of punishment?”

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?”

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.”

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?”

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.”

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip.

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.”

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it.

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down.

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--”

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.”

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin.

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical.

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn.

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.”

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion.

“Kirigan.”

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his.

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity.

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off.

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am.

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.”

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.”

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines.

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips.

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?”

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want.

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential.

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.”

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly.

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat.

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more.

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible.

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.”

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.”

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it. My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out.

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.”

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking.

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.”

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together.

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs.

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?”

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.”

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back.

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