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#I can’t draw backgrounds just imagine it
beybuniki · 3 months
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fanboys
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lesbianyosano · 8 months
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i will never be able to draw dazai the way i actually think he looks like not bc of lack of skill but bc it’d be sooo boring
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deadghosy · 2 months
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Hi! I hope you're doing great!
So I saw the headcannons of reader as Catnap and Dogday and I fell in love with the way you write! So I was wondering if you could do a headcannon about the reader being bendy from bendy and the ink machine?
Like the reader can draw and bring ink creatures to help around the hotel, maybe draw some decorations for the hotel? Sometimes going full on ink demon form to protect it or just pick up their friends on their back to make them feel taller
And the reader was actually an animator at joey drew studios and died, I think that would be pretty cool!
P.s I would love if the reader was wearing the same suit bendy wore in bendy and the dark revival
HAZBIN HOTEL X BENDY!READER
Prompt: a cute “little” demon becomes a resident who helps with the designs around the hotel!
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Starting off. You definitely appeared as baby bendy 😘 with ya cute ass red bow or white bow. What ever you want the bow color as you showed up to the door trying to seem professional as Charlie gushes at your cuteness and lets you in.
The picture of baby bendy in the car, yeah you have that as you literally fuckin' zoom in the hallways drinking apple juice like a bad ass kid….bendy!Reader and chibi!Reader both doing races to make sinners poor😭 lil evil asses….
I imagine Angel dust and Alastor ganging up on you as a team to insult you by your height until you grow up to ink demon from with a roar.
“HOLY SHIT-” “Oh my.” They both said as you they were blew off by the power of your roar. So you felt happy seeing them shocked to see that part of you as Charlie didn’t see it and had commented how adorable you are with your suit.
Shit you are a devil in an angel’s suit‼️
You still wore the suit you had in when you met Audrey…man you miss her. But you are getting taken care of by Charlie and her friends here. Plus her father.
You help design the banners around the place! And even your small ink minions help as well.
I can imagine bendy! Reader being like “fuck it.” Because they can’t reach for the cereal and turn into normal height looking bendy and just starts to act as if it’s normal. While in the background, the crew has pure confusion on their face. Like, “what the fuck? You can be taller?”
“Yeah! Pretty neat right?” “..Im out of here…” husk says walking away as niffty goes up to you excited to talk to you about your height.
You ran over alastor’s foot once….you never speeded over 120 mph in your whole life seeing Alastor chase after you.
I imagine you going to normal height as you are just chilling with your small or long tail swinging and husk gets curious as he picks it up with his paw. “So…this ya tail right here?” You nodded reading the new paper. “So you’re a sinner demon?” “I ain’t nothin'” you said with a smirk as you disappeared in ink.
No one knows what exactly what you are. You don’t have the basic looks to look like a sinner or a hell born. So it’s kinda confusing to other.
You’re obviously a human who died to the ink as you use to animate bendy…so you’re bendy?? Does that make since because whatever you died by is your demon form….hopefully that made sense..
You once went full ink demon mode because a sinner tried to attack at you and husk while just running errands for the hotel. You transformed getting taller with the ink covering your face as you growl and slashes at them with a giant gloved hand covered in ink. And after that husk respected you more.
“Bendy/reader, can you help me make a cute star design?” Vaggie asked as Charlie was trying to make a star gazing banner. You nodded with your cartoony smile and pulls out a marker and started to draw on the air. The star in the air becomes to life as vaggie’s eyes widen.
“Uhm…oh wow. Thanks?” Vaggie says as she walks away with question marks visible while you just smile.
Y’know those dubbed comics where bendy has an accent? I feel like that’s cannon because you and Angel would be babbling about which part of city you guys were from.
I can see sir Pentious and you doing crafts as you made him an ink cartoon flower as he made you a bracelet bead with your name on it.
Lucifer will definitely play violin as you tap dance. Just a wholesome ass moment fr 💗🦆
You one time had fat nuggets in your doom buggy as you guys had shades just chilling around the hotel like bad asses✨
You miss your original family when you were alive and working. But everytime you open your eyes, you are greeted by the sweet comfort of your new family in the hazbin hotel.
You one time made an ink sculpture of your family and you tried to hold your smile but it faltered as you cry at how you missed your family as the ink sculpture melted due to your emotions.
Alastor appeared in your room seeing you sad little state as he comforted you. He had taken a liking to you ever since you joined the crew.
I can see you being childish because of your shortness so you use it to your advantage. YOU AND ALASTOR MAKE YOUR INK DEMONS FIGHT LIKE POKÉMON 😭😭
lol imagine bendy!reader making a whole like of fake ass tarrot cards to fuck with people as you have that smirk on your face.
“You’re gonna get run over toots…watch your back..” “what. The. Fuck-”
They got ran over by a mysterious person and a car….who knew who it was…it was you, you little bastard.
When the hotel has a talent and show day or night, you remembered how you animated bendy to do ballet and tap dancing. So with your information, that’s what you did. Yeah some sinners laughed..but some aplaude as they found it cute and so did your friends
You making ink blob bracelets for your friends as you can make them solid is a goal for real.
Headcannon on how you would try to make ink sculptures, but failing as you huff in anger and smash it with a full ink demon hand as the rest of your body is fine.
Headcannon of you just accidentally leaving ink footprints as you took off your shoes once 😭 niffty doesn’t complain as she likes to clean tho
I can see Lucifer picking your small body up happy for you to be so small as he has started in his eyes. And you are like annoyed at how the cast picks you up like a baby.
LMAO THAT WALMART MEME STOPPP😭😭 LUCIFER PUTS YOU UP TO THE DAMN WALMART CAMERA HAVING ALASTOR ALSO PICK LUCI UP 😭😭
I imagine you and Alastor having either a “bad ass son x calm father” troupe or a “non-biological sibling” troupe as you two get quite along
Your little ass doom buggy is such a weapon when needing to take a troubled guest in the hotel….YOU RAN THEM OVER?! 😨 ALL PEOPLE SEE IS A SMALL ASS INK DEMON HAVING A GUEST SCREAMING AS THEY GET RUNNED OVER TO THE DOOR-
So when the angels came for the battle, you were sure damn ready as you suffocated them in ink and control them into killing their own.
After seeing your full demon form, you definitely had been seen in a different light. They don’t see you as the cute baby bendy they seen you before.
Nah nah. They see you as a grown ass person as you are not in the baby bendy phase but more like the fanart type shit looks. With your charm, you definitely bring in some customers. 
HOPED YOU GUYS LIKED THIS AS THIS IS ALL I COULD COME UP WITH 🦆💗 MWAH
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inknopewetrust · 4 months
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𝔉𝔬𝔬𝔱𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔰
summary: in the blistering summer evening heat, you and felix play a little game. [felix x fem reader. WC: 2.6k]
warnings: smut. minors dni (18+ only). p in v, fingering (fem receiving), saltburn bathtub, slight voyeurism, dirty, dirty talk, some degrading language, not the dirtiest thing but still like… kinda hot?
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Though the sun had set long before, the lingering scorch of the sun sat like a film on your skin. Its thin veil dry and aching to shrivel against the boiling water of the tub. You felt the sticky nature disappear under the trails of steam that painted the surface of the water.
A bead of sweat pebbled from your temple to cheek to chin to neck.
But you lit a cigarette anyway. And if you listened close enough, you could hear the crackle.
A blistering bud sizzles; the porcelain was drawing cool waves against the skin of your arms and for once, in the vast nothingness of the bathroom, the heat that rose from its surface made the ghosts vanish.
It made them disappear in house once home to Kings.
Now, as it boiled under the night sky, it was home to something other. It had bled itself into the walls and the ghosts wished to witness not the haggard scrounging of wealth that festered within.
But you imagined Henry the Eighth liked to stare as you bathed. They all did. Felix had told you that once a few summers ago.
How they all wanted to touch you in the ways that he did. How they wanted to whisper in your ear that they were better than him. No one truly was and it kept you crawling back with the poor souls who got sucked into a heated whirlpool of pity each and every summer.
Nevertheless, you envisioned Henry in the corner itching to touch.
They all trembled to flutter their hands onto your skin, onto your breasts, squeezing pieces of you dipped below the waterline.
If his ghost could smile, Henry’s ghastly teeth gleamed.
‘Fuck off, Henry,’ you saw the paunchy apparition lounging in the chair in the corner with a bead of sweat dribbling from his own temple.
Oh, envy, King Henry.
A bit of ash fell onto the tiles below.
“You’re making a mess of it.”
You tapped the cig on the side of the tub as another bit of ash wilted to the cold floor.
Felix hummed.
Stocky Henry vanished. If you gazed toward him, Felix’s eyes bore deep. Heavy and brooding, downcast at a peak of what existed beyond the bubbled suds.
Dinner had long passed. Everyone was supposed to be in bed.
He could feel you in inches. The soft skin of your back, the plush thighs that laid between his own. A hand of his traced over the skin of your collarbone gently as the ash continued to drift.
You were nearly on fire. In the swelter of the stone walls and the patterns of the paper before him, you glowed in a red sweat.
“You’re letting it die.”
“I was thinking,” you murmured.
“About what?”
“King Henry.”
“King Henry?” Felix’s voice peaked. His head leaned to rest on your shoulder, his smile leaving a trail as it grew. His nose drew a delicate line on your dampened skin.
You liked Felix in this way. So quiet and removed. But Saltburn always kept pace in the background.
“Yes, King Henry,” his hand glided along your own, gently taking hold of the cigarette and placing it between his lips.
The smoke of the puff rose high into the air beside you. It’s curls twisted like your insides aching for a touch too far but never too close.
“I like to imagine them sitting… staring at us now.”
“Now?” Felix questioned. “So erotic in an ugly tub. I can see him now,” he pointed to the corner of the room, “he just popped one. Can’t you see it? In his trousers there.”
You grinned. Your laugh filled his chest with a shuddering life. So fulfilled and free yet trapped in this same world as he.
And he was never far away. Here, in Saltburn, always waiting in the same shadows for the opportunity to strike while the others weren’t around. No sister or friends or parents or mewling poor fighting for his attention. They were retired for the evening; all snuggled in beds with curtains drawn and fantasy dancing in their heads.
“He isn’t the only one.”
You tipped your head to the side. The profile of your face meeting his forehead as he dipped his own downwards. The cigarette still burning from his fingertips. It was a mere bud now.
You could feel what waited for you on your lower back.
“I can feel that, you know?” You feigned an innocence he liked. Keen and blatant, but cunning with sin.
“Is it Henry that makes you feel that why?” You whispered, lips ghosting his chin.
Felix breathed in deeply. The same chest that shuddered with joy in anticipation.
Every summer.
The excitement would stir within his bones as the gates would open wide and beside his family would be the one steady thing he had everything to give.
“I hope,” Felix hushed, “for your own sake that’s not the fucking case.”
“So it’s me?”
Felix groaned as you pushed against him. The gentle pressure of your body arching into him without a touch, he begged to put his hands on you.
The cigarette fell to the floor in its end.
Felix took his hand and turned your head back to face him with a firm grip on your jaw. The water around you sloshed. It cleared the bubbles from your chest.
“I want to play a game,” he suggested in a dusty, breathless tone. “Want to play, darling?”
“Can I win?” You suggested. His hand loosened, letting the fingers dance along the column of your neck before beckoning up toward your mouth once more.
His index finger traced the outline of your lips. In a slow glide, Felix pulled your lower lip out slightly, gathering the wetness with his finger before inching it back to the space where your lips had parted.
You kissed his finger with your tongue as it found purchase in the suction of your mouth. The plushness of your tongue, the slight drag of your teeth as it emerged from between your lips.
“I don’t want to play if I can’t win, Felix,” you whispered.
His eyes now hooded with a thick want. He watched his finger redraw the lines of your lips again as you begged with doe eyes to win. A near child’s play of a woman’s ability to seduce.
“You can win,” Felix huffed as his other hand snaked itself from the edge of the tub to your torso under the water. “But I’ll need you to be quiet. We have guests and as much as I do love our dear, sweat guests, I can’t have them imagining the way I fuck you, can I?”
“No,” you relished in the way his hand returned to the base of your throat and squeezed with the slightest amusement. “I’ll be quiet.”
“Good,” Felix smiled at you. Your heart squeezed in the same way your cunt ached for his fingers to gather the strength to follow through.
“What do I win?”
“Whatever the fuck you want. You just have to be quiet.”
You smiled deviously that the thought.
“I can’t see how we’d be able to look a boy like Ollie in the eyes if he heard the sounds that come out of your mouth.”
His hand swooped past your center and to your leg, drawing one over his own which sat you straighter in his hold. You felt his cock jump at the pressure of you pushing on him. Felix flitted his finger tips from your knee to waist, switching hands to bring his wet palm to your breast while the other perched your opposite leg over his other.
The pebbled nipple was taut as he kneaded the skin in circles. He pressed down hard, pulling up on your nipple to elicit the sounds he wanted so badly to hear but knew you’d repress.
You were like him in many ways. He too wanted to win a game of control.
With you in his hands like a play of putty, he felt in control but with one hand on the wheel.
As he palmed your breast, his hand gripped your thigh. His mouth traced a pattern of hot breath along your neck as his tongue relished the salty sweat that had gathered at its leisure. The goosebumps that rose from your skin welcomed his breath kindly.
“I want this house to ourselves,” Felix moaned. “So we don’t have to be quiet.”
“Tell me what you’d do,” you asked him, placing your hand over his own and bringing his fingers to you. He cupped your heat as you groaned, guiding him back and forth to gather the wetness he could feel different from the water of the tub.
“Tell me what you’d do to me.” You spoke faintly. “Tell me and I’ll be quiet.”
You guided one of Felix’s fingers in you as he shushed the sounds that threatened to speak themselves into existence.
He put his lips on your ear as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you with a slow glide. So plush and tight, he thought to himself. It sucked him in and dared not to spit him out.
“I would fuck you on the floor,” he breathed out against your cheek. “I’d spread you wide and taste your sweet pussy as the sun bathes the floor. And when I’m done, we go to the pool-“
Felix pulled out his finger, tracking it along your folds before going in with two. You arched against his back, drawing up as he pulled you back down and rested his hand on your waist.
You curled the toes of your right foot down the edge of the tub.
“-we’d go to the pool and sit out in the sun. You’d give me head in one of the chairs and I’d paint your fucking face with my cum.”
You clenched around his fingers. His thumb pressed into your clit, another jolt aching to send you squirming but he held you down as he patterned circles on the gentle flesh.
“You like that, don’t you?” He breathed in the smell of you. “And maybe we’d go for a walk through the maze after dinner. I’d fuck you in the center and you could scream as loud as you fucking want. No one could get to us. No one would hear us.”
“F-F-“
“No, no, no, shh,” Felix shushed. “Good girls only win by being quiet, yeah?”
You nodded, clenching onto his fingers again as a strangled ‘fuck’ tumbled out of his lips. He could imagine the coil building. Felix wasn’t going to let you finish alone.
Felix pulled his fingers from you and felt the disappointment in the wither of your body.
“But I don’t want to imagine what’d I’d do if we were alone,” Felix blanked. “Turn around.”
As the water sloshed around you, you turned to wrap your arms around his neck. Like you, Felix had sweat beading from his jaw that glimmered in the red light of the bathroom. He looked intoxicated, entranced but in control of what he could.
“I want to see you ride me like the fucking whore you are.”
You weren’t a whore. But for Felix, you could be anything.
At the nape of his neck, you gripped the back of his hair and drew his head back as your other hand gripped him under the water.
Hard and lengthy, his cock was a welcome intrusion every time. You pumped him in your hand slowly. The sounds of water creating currents was soothing against the sounds of your battered breaths kissing his own. You lifted yourself on your knees, leaning against Felix as he squeezed your ass tightly, watching as you lowered yourself onto him under the water. Slender and veined, your cunt molded to him like art. You both would never tire of the feeling so profound.
It would never be like this with anyone else.
Loose pants left his lips as you sat completely full of him. A fit for a King in his own home, he supposed. Once you had settled with him inside, you moved above him.
The water moved languidly too. Meeting the fiery skin of two intoxicated minds too oblivious to see the peering eyes between the crack of a door.
“Right there, baby, right there,” Felix mumbled as you rose again and again, drawing him in and out as he stretched you with every swell and spur he could muster on his own.
“You’re such a good girl, darling. So good for me.”
You could peer down at him from above. Your breath fanning his face and lips but never seeking to truly kiss him as your hand tangled in his hair.
Bits of water spilled over the tub and splashed onto the floor. It soaked the ash tray and the speckles of ash and bud that littered the floor.
“Don’t stop baby. Don’t fucking stop,” Felix crooned in the room’s empty sounds. Only the pleasured sighs and gasping breaths filled the air.
You bounced on his cock with a measured pace. Each stroke of his manhood against your velvet walls lured him deeper into you, entangled with the missing links of a year gone by.
“Felix,” you broke the rules to whisper in his ear. He was taken away by the insatiable need of his rapture. He listened. He beckoned to your call.
“Tell me that you love me.”
From the shadows, Oliver Quick felt his blood run as hot as the sun. He loved Felix.
“I love you.”
Whom did not love him back.
“Tell me you need me.”
He was enamored by the idea of Felix.
“I need you.”
Who was enamored with the idea of Oliver.
“And what do you want from me?”
He was taken by the sight before him.
“I need you to cum, baby. I need you to fucking cum for me.”
Oliver was taken by the gleam of your skin. The way Felix’s throat bobbed as a strangled groan escaped his lips and the way your own melted onto his forehead in a silent struggle to come down from a high.
You placed both hands on his slender chest, careening like winged victory in a heated satisfaction.
Your fingers shook.
He had never seen a woman shake so elegantly before. The tremble of your lips as you breathed in shaking respite, the jolt of your shoulder blade as Felix ran a hand up your back.
Oliver licked his lips at the sight.
Felix lifted his head from its position against the tub. His eyes fluttered open as you pulled away in the slightest.
And Felix smiled.
You returned the grin with one of your own as his still sat erect inside of you. The bubbles of the tub had long ceased to exist and the water that was left was filled with the combined spent of you both.
“I don’t think I won that one,” you chuckled quietly, pushing hair out of Felix’s face before cupping his cheek in your hand.
“I’ll take pity on you, I guess.”
“The water’s gone cold.”
Felix kissed the inside of the palm of your hand. He cherished the high that lingered.
“The water’s gone cold,” he repeated. “But we could stay here forever.”
“Pruned and sweaty? Not a chance in fucking hell, Felix.” You laughed a bit too loudly. Oliver disappeared at the groan Felix let out as you pulled off of him.
You stood before him as the water dripped from every piece of you. Marbled and finite of the most precious carvings he only wished to hold forever.
As you exited the tub and the throb of him began to settle, you grabbed his linen shirt from the floor, draping it over you as it stuck to the wetness of your skin.
“The bed is just the slightest bit more comfortable.”
And you disappeared behind his doorway with call for more as the walls of Saltburn added another sordid story to add to it woven trims.
But it was never just the walls of Saltburn watching.
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A/N: as always, the best gift of reading is likes AND reblogs and why not, we love comments too. Thank you for reading and feel free to check out my other works on my masterlist here. xo
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ceruleancattail · 2 months
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Alright victims look. Dig out your ears and hear me out on this one.
V-tuber MC.
Look, the bills have to be paid in some way, right? A time-flexible job would be ideal, no? And if there an added layer of anonymity added to the job, won’t it be a perfect side-hustle?
Imagine streaming every week after classes, playing games or perhaps showcasing a certain talent of yours? Singing, drawing, dancing … whatever you’ve got. The list just goes on. Maybe you just sit down with your viewers, and have a light-hearted chat.
Talking about your friends and experiences seems to be well-welcomed, on your streams. Well, some of your experiences in Night Raven College are just… ridiculous. Having to run after a chaotic bunch of friends is exhausting, so at least those wacky experiences turn into good stories for the internet.
Everything is kept anonymous, of course. People get nicknames to cover their identities, and people think all of these tales come from you playing as the character they portray.
Now imagine Idia just stumbling across your streaming account. Perhaps he was bored, one day after class… and lo and behold, you were streaming right after class as well. Streaming some… story based game.
At first he joined just to have some background noise while he gamed. Idia told himself he’ll just lurk, maybe judge your gameplay for a bit. Yet he found himself clinging on to your every word, focusing more on your laughter then the controls of the console in his hand.
He ended up losing every match he played that day, but your follower count steadily went up by one.
Idia soon found himself tuning in more and more, looking forward to the days you were free to stream. They miraculously mirrored his quite closely, what a wonderful coincidence! He was still very much a lurker, but occasionally his trembling fingers will type out a word of encouragement or two, in the chat.
He likes the way you say his username, the way you read out every letter he typed. You remember him, oddly enough. Aways perking up whenever his username flashes across the screen, grinning away like an idiot.
Idia can’t say he doesn’t like it, though.
He keeps a keychain of you on his bag. A subtle design, never your model outright. Maybe it’s a small plushie of your fan mascot, or the logo of your avatar. Either way, he takes it with him everywhere, thumb stroking it whenever Idia’s thoughts wander.
Wonder what happens when one day, he stumbles across you in the hallway. Bags stuck together because your keychains tangled, and he saw you had the exact same one? The moment you open your mouth, apologising profusely… Idia knows. You’re the streamer he’s been faithfully watching ever since that day.
Oh no, he’ll never dox you outright. Idia knows all too well how badly parasocial relationships tend to go, and he would never want to scare you off. Somehow, one way or another, you end up sharing a class with Idia.
Now, he was fully planning to hide in the corner throughout the lesson… but you sat in front of him. Slipping your phone out of your pocket, before booting up… a game. He’ll never normally make the first move, but the moment he saw his favourite game pop up on your screen, a hesitant sentence slipped right off his tongue.
“I play that game too.”
Beaming at him, you spin around. Clutching your phone in your hands, excited to find another game enjoyer in the same class. You asked some friendly questions about what character he played, how far along the quests was he, and other gameplay related questions.
Idia had fun, discussing the game with you. Talking all the way until the teacher walked in and gave both of you a nasty glare. You slid right back around, but not before scribbling something quick onto Idia’s palm.
You wink at him, before folding up his fingers into a fist. Once your back was turned, Idia couldn’t help unclenching it to take a peek.
Your friend ID code, scribbled out in your favourite colour on his hand. Ending with a cute little heart. Great Seven, you were adorable.
Guess he’ll have to actually be serious about this game, for once.
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leafyisgreennotblue · 2 months
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With Legends Z-A, I gave him the unavoidable design. I had written so much background and trying to get it on Insta was a hassle, but luckily I’ll be able to fully put it here with no issues,,:
It was hard to steer from the typical older Emmet look but I tried my hardest to make it seem like it would’ve been. I tried looking up France fashion from 1600-1900 but it was either some ridiculous outfits or suits, and since it mentioned the redevelopment of Lumiose City, it was either working up from something like Jubilife village or was upgrading from what it already is. I’ve heard a lot of theories that Legends Z-A will be taking place in the future or bounce back from future to past, but since it’s hard to incorporate futuristic outfits without knowing “how futuristic” it’ll be, I stuck to something from a layer time period in France. I drew him more of a square shape in his eyes instead of triangular, both to signify age and his lost connection with Ingo. Maybe not a permanent design but I think it adds a lot to his demeanor. He kept Basic stuff like he still has his coat, hat, etc. because Ingo got to keep all his old stuff too, but since the trailer looked more modern and Pokémon were with people, I don’t think it would be all destroyed like Ingos just cause it seems like a more civilized nation alongside pokemon and if it really did get destroyed in some way, I have a feeling he would be able to get it repaired without it getting ruined again. Also in terms of the suit I think the darker color is a good parallel to Ingos pearl clan outfits lighter colors. A lot of the design choices were meant to parallel him anyways. Since Ingo had lost his gloves in his Hisui design, giving Emmet new ones felt appropriate for some reason. In terms of the cane I gave him, not only is he an old man, I think it’s kinda needed. Ingo had that little wristband to signify he was a warden, while I think the cane could be useful for a mega stone wink wink nudge nudge. Cute little accessories for them I’m so nice 💀 he could definitely have a slower lifestyle in comparison to Ingo, and I definitely could see him working at Lumiose Station (if it exists in this game) and even though he would most likely have his memory wiped too, Ingo still said the same train themed quotes even with his memory gone, and even then he still had SOME memory, it was just very faint. Emmet definitely could feel some “connection” to the station and say stuff like “Some late nights I think I see a man who looks like me, but upon second glance it’s just my imagination. Even if I can’t seem to shake it from my mind, it seems I still wish to see him again…” anywho for the drawing, I made a few references. The main one just being a reference of design, but the one in the top right corner was a small reference to Alabaster Icelands. I’ve seen a lot of people use the snow to give Ingo flashbacks to Emmet, and while I think my station one is more closely related to Ingos darker color scheme, I think having him in the snow was a good nod to that. The bottom right corner was a reference to a drawing (that probably most people already know what I’m referencing) that had Pokémon that I thought resembled them, and one of the ones I had included for Ingo was Klefki. So just a little salt to the wound (it wasn’t even that bad.) Anywho, I know the design isn’t very refreshing, but I tried to keep it as canonical as possible.
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phfenomena · 4 months
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❝dancing in the refrigerator light.❞ || tom blyth x f!reader
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| request- tom and reader baking while the background song is stand by me (let us all be delusional)
| A/N- i love this so much you have no idea. this shit got me ENTHRALLED also i imagine this as like right after ‘you’re my best friend’ happened…a part two perhaps..
| WARNINGS- food, dancing, touching a burning hot pan bc you’re too busy looking at tom, and big ole kissies
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(divider by @v6que)
you stand in your kitchen humming along to the quiet music flowing through your house, mixing the blueberry muffin batter. it’s well past midnight at this point but you find it impossible to fall under the blanket of rest.
you left tom snoozing soundly in your bed, not wanting to bother him at this hour. a small smile plays on your lips as you zone out while mixing and think about how well everything played out so well with him. you hone back in to your mixing before you feel tom rest his chin on your shoulder.
“you’re supposed to be asleep.” you whisper, leaning you head onto his as he hums and closes his eyes. “can’t stay asleep, what’re you making?” he questions right next to your ear making your face slightly warm, your crush on him will never go away. “blueberry muffins. my mom always used to make them when we couldn’t sleep.” you confided in him softly.
you slide the baking pan into the oven with a slight screech from the metal on metal. you sat on the kitchen floor in front of the oven and set your timer, tom taking a seat next to you. “what are we doing?” he whispers through the silent air. “watching the muffins.”
the ‘watching the muffins’ eventually turned into you guys sitting on the couch kissing and telling stories. he’d tell you his set stories and you’d laugh and shake you head at him. the sight of them engrossed with each other was saccharine and sickeningly sweet. the familiar ding from your apple timer caused you to sit straight up and pull tom towards the kitchen again.
as you open the oven you look over to see tom, shirtless only clad in pajama bottoms licking the remaining batter off the spoon, illuminated by the moonlight and small warm lamps scattered around. before you can even realize that your hand was still moving, your skin came into contact with the boiling metal. you draw your hand back with a hiss and swear under your breath.
tom quickly turns the faucet to cold and places your hand under it, turning around to take the muffins out and turn the oven off. you start to quietly giggle as you pull him apart with your eyes, once again. “what happened, love? i thought you were a whiz in the kitchen.” he runs his hand up and down your back and you lean into him.
“i was, i am, i just couldn’t stop looking at you. you’re like a literal angel that i can’t believe is real.” you whisper to him while turning your head up to him and smiling. you hold your injured hand out to him “i almost died for you. that shows my dedication.” he scoffs and rolls his eyes before pushing your hand back under the water.
you both sat cross legged on the kitchen floor, each with a glass of milk in front of them and a muffin in hand. “so worth it. i don’t even need my left hand if i can have muffins forever” you joke with your mouth full with the pastry. tom raises his eyebrows at you “i, however, do think you might need both hands to function…and other activities.” he confidently spat out his sentence causing you to throw your head back laughing to hide the blush that made home on your cheeks and the warmth that tom manages to propagate throughout your body.
the speakers, who had been forgotten about, start to quietly leak out ‘stand by me’ and toms face lights up and pulls you up to meet him. he bows and sticks his hand out to you, asking for a dance. your smile cannot be contained as you take his hand and quickly remember you also cannot dance. the pair of you looks almost like a baby giraffe- although the giraffe might dance better.
you eventually give up on the waltz and wrap your arms around toms waist and hug him. “i’m really fucking tired.” you say into his chest and you feel his body vibrate when he laughs. you lift your head up and his comes down for your lips to meet. after more than enough kisses tom tries pulling you back to bed. “i thought you said you were tired?” “i am, i’m grabbing a muffin for the trip.”
you feel as if a piece of the sun had fallen down and nestled itself into your ribcage, but that’s just tom.
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dailyadventureprompts · 6 months
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Heavy Topics: A Child's Vision of Evil
One of the first big “aha!” moments in my journey to retrofit d&d’s laughably bad lore was the realization that the way the game treated evil didn’t make much sense.  As a dungeonmaster I was asked to create dramatic stakes for my players but the out-of-the-box antagonists supplied to me were as laughably one note as the pollution loving villains in Captain Planet. Who would ever worship the demon god of killing everything that lives? Of torturing you for all eternity? Of being unpleasantly covered in slime? 
None of it really made sense until I started to understand the world and recent history through a political lens, at which point several things became clear: 
Despite how large a bogyman it played in the satan scare of the late 80s, the people who laid the foundations for the lore of d&d came from a background of conservative american christianity, and baked a lot of that ethos into the game. 
The conservative christian imagination can only see things in black and white. People who disagree with them can’t just have a different opinion, even if that opinion is objectively good, they need to be wilfully evil . In fact they must be trying as hard to be evil as the christian is trying to be good, because they’re a backwards person, a monster, a demon. 
This idea of the “Backwards Person” is the exact process that gave rise to the bloodlibel, to the witchpanics, to the redscare, and yes, the 80s fear that satanists lurk around every corner sacrificing babies and putting poison in candy because they love evil that much.  It’s the same thought that’s given rise to Q-anon and the groomer panic. “People who disagree with just can’t just have a different opinion, they must be demons.”
D&D’s classic enemies are similarly all “backwards people”, hardwired to do evil so that players always have an excuse to kill them.  While on the surface it seems harmless or even childish it leads to the default d&d world being one where peace is impossible and genocidal violence is the only correct answer.  
We can do better in our writing than a bunch of shut-ins who wanted nothing more than to play cowboys and indians while ripping off Tolkien. Whether you want to write a sweeping epic or a mindless dungeon crawler, there’s a way to reconfigure d&d lore. 
Join me below the cut for a discussion of different ways to use evil in your games.
Children cannot control their emotions nor their fear, they lack the life experience necessary to contextualize things beyond a surface level reading. If you ask a child to "imagine something bad" they're going to take something that scared them, something gross or unpleasant or threatening and imagine it blown up to cartoonish proportion. Tolkien got bit by a spider as a kid and the entire fantasy genre has never lived it down.
D&D is weird because it keeps these childish ideas about evil and drags them forward into an adult context. Those three demon gods I mentioned in the intro make a sort of sense when you realize they're fears of dying, pain, and uncleanliness made manifest. That said most of us having outgrown our childish simplicity understand that those things are neutral, Spiders might personally gross you out but we all understand that doesn't make them bad on a spiritual level. In the base d&d lore however that personal distaste is ALWAYS true: Evilness is synonymous with ugliness and monstrousness, drawing a thick crayon line between the good people and the bad things.
That's where we get our particular flavor of backwards people, because one of those fundamental (pun intended) fears d&d inherited from it's creators was xenophobia, fear of the strange, but also fear of the stranger. When the white, suburban, middle class, christian creators of d&d imagined the other they took all the bad things they had been told in their youth about people who were not them and made them into monsters: That's why the default thinking enemies of d&d are tribal primitives who squat in the ruins of greater civilizations worshipping demons while coveting the beauty and wealth of cultured people. It sounds hyperbolic, but there's a one for one parallel between between the weird sexual anxieties conservatives have about black men and orcs raiding human lands to kidnap women as breeding stock. Same fears about emasculation and race mixing and ethnic replacement, only d&d gives the good ol' boys a narrative vehicle where they can revenge themselves upon their imagined foe.
Most modern d&d is not like this, and I chalk that up to the demographic shift that's happened both because of time passing and the influx of new voices that came along with the 5e renaissance. We're all media literate enough to avoid the obvious racial pantomime... except in cases like the Hardozee when the devs port something almost word for word from an older edition and we get a thanksgiving uncle/facebook aunt screed about how the silly monkey people are really SO happy to work for the refined and civilized and white elves.
What's left behind however is that pervasive childlike worldview: Where perfectly natural things that creep us out (like rot) or frighten us (like pregnancy) are made universally villainous regardless of any themes that are going on in that specific story. Ask yourself why the creators of a piece of media made their badguys look and act like they did, rather than just accepting that it's that way because "the lore says so".
Anyway, that's my rant over, and I promised you guys some different versions of how to use Evil:
Classic demons or lovecraftian horrors make for good bossfights but are thin on character, one of the basic building blocks of story. To remedy this, pair your unremitting force of darkness and destruction with a troubled and nuanced mortal agent, someone who is trying their general best but has been forced down this low road by circumstances beyond their control. This gives your roleplaying focused players something to play off against while your combat focused ones battle a building sized monstrosity. Raw evil isn't interesting, it becomes interesting when we see what it makes morally grey people, even good people, do in reaction to it.
Extremity is one of the best ways to turn normal people into villains, a looming disaster or recent crisis that's putting the pressure on everyone and preventing anyone from thinking beyond protecting themselves and their own. Beyond the people acting rashly, you're also going to have a legion of opportunists offering to fix the problem as your higher rank of antagonists to overcome.
Similarly, if you're going to have your villain backed up by legions of faceless mooks you're going to need a reason for their loyalty. Your villain is offering them something worth dying for, which gives your heroes an alternate win condition for overcoming their numbers beyond genocide.
If you're willing to take a step into a more fanciful, cartoony universe, feel free to play with the idea of good and evil as arbitrary teams: It's the badguy's job to cause chaos and it's the goodguy's job to stop em, they're all working professionals and the dungeon is the workplace comedy. This is fun, but then lets you escalate the tension when someone doesn't play by the rules. What happens when a zealot starts executing evildoers who'd already surrendered? what happens when the villain summons something that is more interested in devastation than wacky hijinx?
Think of morality like a punnett square: There's the party, and then there's the villain who wants the opposite of what they want. THEN there's the villain who wants what the party wants, and the ally who wants the opposite of party wants. Suddenly rather than a simple binary, the party is forced to balance the interest of varying groups as well as their better judgment. This can be made even MORE complex by creating different categories of "what the party wants", which is generally how you get complex political dramas like game of thrones.
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whore4abby · 6 months
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could you do a abby x model reader i could just imagine abby being at our runways and just thinking about she’s gonna do to us after our show (i love ur writings btw!!!)
driver roll up the partition please; abby anderson x runway model!reader
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warnings; smut - semi-public sex (back of a chauffeured car), fingering + cunnilingus (r!receiving), nipple play, mentions of a strap-on, tiny mention of a daddy kink, mdni
wc; 1.2k
as the night draws to a close, you walk out gracefully onto the runway for your final appearance of the night. your hips swaying side-to-side as you make your way down the cat-walk, creating a hypnotising rhythm that matches the beat of the music in the background.
the delicate material of your skimpy lingerie is almost see-through, your tits visible beneath the thin lace. the hem just barely covering your nipples as well as your ass also being on display as the lacy panties are cut into a minuscule thong.
the front row seats are so close to the runway, giving your wife an unobstructed view, letting her see every detail of your body. abby subtly leans forward to get a better look at you as you walk past, her thighs spread and her eyes glued to you as she drinks in the sight of your gorgeous body.
you make the conscious decision to put on a little show for her. walking with a bit more sass than usual, hips swaying with confidence. you look back over your shoulder, letting her really get a good look at you. she tries shifting in her seat but it does little to alleviate the mounting arousal she feels. her eyes are glued to your body, never once taking her eyes off her beautiful girl.
you finish the show feeling exhausted but so, so proud of yourself for all the hard work that's led up to this very night. the applause still ringing in your ears as you step down from the runway and hastily make your way backstage, desperate to see your wife, but before you can even start to search for her amidst the rush of people, you feel a familiar hand caressing your bare waist. “hi pretty girl~” she whispers and leans in to kiss your cheek softly.
“hi abs…” you smile at her, resting your hands on her forearms and feeling her muscles flexing due to her fingers digging into the flesh of your hips. the heat and desire between you is so intense that you feel like you might burst at any moment. she tugs on your arm, her fingers digging into your skin. “c'mon….i can’t wait any longer~” she growls into your ear, moving a hand down to grope your ass before pulling it back up to rest on the small of your back.
she throws your trench coat over your shoulders, you quickly slip your arms into it and wrap it tight around your exposed body, fingers fumbling to haphazardly do up a couple of buttons around your midsection. shouting a quick half-assed apology to your stylist as abby quite literally drags you away. “would you fuckin slow down!?” you scowl, stumbling behind her on your stupidly tall stilettos.
as you walk out of the venue, multiple flashes go off, fans are calling out to you for pictures, but abby keeps her massive arms around you and tries to shield you from any rogue questions and the horny comments from the onslaught of paparazzi.
you both finally make it to your designated car, abby shoves you in, not wasting a second before she she quickly follows suit, clambering in behind you and swiftly locking the door behind her. she mumbles briefly to the chauffer and slams down the partition just as the car starts to pull away from the sidewalk. the sound of soft music and the rumbling of the engine filling the small space between the two of you.
you feel her hands travel along your spine, pulling you under her and she leans in to catch your lips with hers, abby’s tongue pressing up against your lips before it slides into your mouth. her hands instinctively unbuttoning your coat and throwing it into the footwell.
abby takes your hand and places it on the bulge in her pants. of course. of-fucking-course she's wearing the strap-on. “you feel that….? imma have you creaming down my cock when we get home~” she growls into your ear.
your breath comes out in rapid pants as her hand slides between your legs, rubbing and teasing at your inner thighs as she whispers in your ear, biting your earlobe as she grinds against you. “you’re so fuckin sexy~”
she pulls away and starts popping the clasp at the back of your bra and yanks it down your shoulders, your tits spilling out. she gazes at your exposed chest, licking her lips before reaching out to tweak and pinch your nipples. “god i love these tits~” she gives them a firm tug, rubbing over them with her thumbs. you squeak out in surprise and she laughs at you in pity, moving to grip your ass with her rough hands, slapping the squishy fat and making you cry out. “abby…mmm fuck~”
“these little panties are cute at all, but they have to go…” you whine as her hands start to travel down, slipping her fingers into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down your legs. she curses under her breath as she gets a look at your pussy, wet and desperately waiting for her fingers.
her fingers slip over your slick entrance and she slides her middle finger inside, stretching and preparing you for more. “so eager for my fingers…you really are a slut for me…” she taunts, sliding her ring finger in beside it, scissoring her fingers teasingly. you moan loudly at the sensation, praying the music mutes any of your noises.
she thrusts in and out slowly, rubbing against that sweet spot inside you that always makes you cum hard. “ohhh abs….feels so good~” the cold silver of her wedding band repeatedly coming into contact with your hot pussy has your back arching into her. “you like having daddy’s hand here?”
“mhm~” you whimper, biting your lip and looking down to watch her fingers disappear into your cunt before reappearing again, covered in your syrupy juices.
she kisses her way down your body, stopping for a couple seconds to lick at your hard nipples before trailing her lips down your tummy and down between your spread legs. abby smirks and leans down, swirling her tongue around your clit before moving to slurp at your slit. “fuck….can never get enough of this sweet cunt~” she tilts her head back and moans at the taste of your juices, closing her eyes to wholly focus on licking and teasing your pussy.
she lets out muffled moans and gasps as she tastes you, her fingers still rubbing and teasing your g-spot. you watch as beads of sticky sweat drip down her neck and disappear down into the collar of her dress shirt as you reach back and place a hand on the foggy glass to steady yourself as abby continues her sloppy assault on your cunt.
she continues to lap up your juices, curling her fingers inside you simultaneously until she has you cumming on her tongue, “nnngghhh….abby~!” you weave your trembling fingers into her hair as she keeps messily eating you out long after you’ve already cum. she eventually slows down and drags her fingers out of you and comes back up to be face-to-face with you.
you giggle lazily, eyes half-lidded as you gaze at her, “mmm, look at you~” she groans as she takes in the sight of you. all fucked out, laying against the leather seats of the bentley, panties round your ankles and your pussy absolutely soaked with your own slick and her saliva.
an; anon thank u sm for this request i had LOTS of fun writing it😵‍💫😵‍💫 and thank u for the nice words about my writing, it means a lot !!!!
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steftastan · 10 months
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Carian Stroll
“Tell Blaidd, and Iji…I love them.”
Before this piece, I had been wanting for a long time to create my own piece of Elden Ring fanart featuring Ranni. I had tried several sketches unsuccessfully, just wasn’t particularly feeling the ideas I had sketched up until that point.
One day of usual internet scrolling, I stumbled upon this gorgeous piece of art by Shimomura Kanzan.
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I knew immediately I wanted to do something like this for my Elden Ring fanart. In fact, if you look at this piece, there is tons of inspiration that I drew from the original artwork, such as the style of the yellow leaves and the main subject matter being a prominent silhouette of the brightest value, placed at approximately the bottom third of the image.
The main character is cleverly shrouded amidst various layers of trees and foliage, giving us the impression that we're peeking into candid moment of their life. In the case of the fox, we caught it during a mid-day snack. In the case of Ranni and her party, we caught them in a leisurely stroll, while Iji outfits the dreaded Fingercreepers with their iconic rings.
I wasn't sure if I wanted to capture a happy moment, but Ranni goes as far as to ask us to deliver to Iji and Blaidd the message that she loves them dearly as her quest draws near its end. I would imagine they all must have had fun moments together as a family. Hey, maybe even the hands liked to be around them?
The process
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I started this on my iPad using the procreate app. Sadly the full process is not captured on video, as I switched to Photoshop for the rendering phase of the illustration. This video is a fun window into my chaotic process and how I iterate on the fly on the same canvas. I probably wouldn't do that in a professional setting where you often need to have color keys and iterations to be reviewed and analyzed. I like to I cut myself some slack when doing personal art to keep things fun.
Trying and failing some more
This illustration was not a straightforward path. I haven’t been very diligent about personal art, and at some point I started deviating too much from my reference by adding too many levels of depth to the background and suffocating the piece. I got into a weird loop where I would randomly open the PSD, play around with the values, pushing Iji to the back, then bringing him back, cranking all the levers on Ranni, etc., decide it would look horrible, then begrudgingly determine I’d never complete this image and go on with my life.
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As artists we likely have unfinished work sitting everywhere, be it in our sketchbooks, canvases, or hard drives. But it’s a different kind of sting when you feel like you can’t even nail the fundamentals.
Anyway, so a couple weeks ago, I decided to give it another go, but this time I would get rid of all the unnecessary stuff, even stuff that I had been trying to render for ages. I would not hold on to anything, I would try and recapture what drew me to Kanzan's beautiful painting to begin with.
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After it became a matter of pushing and pulling pixels until the image was finished!
That’s about it. I didn’t go crazy in depth but lately I’ve been enjoying reading into artists’ processes and I’d be remiss to not share my own thought process also.
Thank you for viewing!
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verimuru · 1 month
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Red on Maroon A 16-page IWTV (2022) fancomic about the vampire Armand and journalist Daniel Molloy visiting the Mark Rothko retrospective in 2024 Paris. Content mentions & warnings: The comic depicts Daniel’s internalized ableism. Rothko’s suicide is acknowledged but not discussed in detail. There’s angst, talk about kink and lots of fluff. Louis is mentioned as well as Daniel’s daughters. Marius is not named but is hinted at. The comic is set up in post-Dubai-interview time and based on my knowledge about s1 of AMC’s IWTV with sprinkles of book canon. Some notes about the comic below:
As with my last comic, I am not a native English speaker, so I hope you keep that in mind when reading <3 trying my best here meow meow
The Rothko retrospective can be visited until 2nd of April of 2024 in Louis Vuitton Foundation. I visited the place in January, so the comic’s surroundings are a mix of memories and some image searches, but in no way fully accurate. Since visiting Paris next week is probably not an option for most people, the foundation has a very cool free app, where you can listen to an audio guide about Rothko and paintings in the exhibition. I mostly used their app as a source for this comic, so in case you want to learn more, go here: https://www.fondationlouisvuitton.fr/en/events/mark-rothko
 I listened to a lot of Morton Feldman’s Rothko Chapel -album while making this. So put it in playing in the background if you’re into that sort of thing. Link to the playlist on youtube
Since I am Finnish and I found out that one of LVF’s first exhibition had some Finnish painter’s work, ofc I had to include them… Page 14 has Schjerfbeck’s “Dancing Shoes”  and Gallen-Kallela’s “Kullervo Cursing”.
Ok finally some headcanon stuff: in my head, while writing this comic, I imagined Daniel having accepted the dark gift from Armand, but both of them wanting him to live as a human as long as possible to enjoy the benefits of a… mortal body. :’D Since, you know, vampirism is forever anyway, so why not enjoy the variety of bodily fluids, body heat, aches and weirdness of aging? While having a chronic illness is shitty, his life is not, and while his disability marginalizes him, there’s a perspective there, a person living and enjoying things, allowed to take space and feel his thoughts develop from these changes (that also affect over 6 million people around the world with Parkinson’s).
After finishing the comic I am not so sure if Daniel is going to be turned into a vampire after all. So your guesses are as good as mine, would love to hear your suggestions, hehe!
I wish we knew more about Daniel’s daughters! I just came up with something here because I wanted to draw them and wanted to see their dynamics as a family.
I have now read the Devil’s Minion part from Queen of the Damned as a separate short story and appreciate the TV show’s changes to Daniel even more. I can’t wait for S2…..
My sincerest thanks to @anaid-queen for being a test audience, my informant and such a cheerleader the past week <3<3<3
Hope you enjoy xoxo
SORRY I POSTED THE WRONG IMAGE FILES FIRST WAHHH I had to repost ;_;
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classickook · 1 year
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könig headcanons
a/n: i have absolutely zero knowledge of this game but he’s my special little guy, i couldn’t help myself.
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- he’s definitely the type who pays super close attention when you’re talking and will encourage you to keep going even if everyone else tunes you out or if they talk over you
- he is SO attentive of everything in general but especially everything you do. since he’s pretty quiet and shy, he stays in the background and just observes everyone and finds himself focusing more on you, picking up little details that no one else would really notice
- like he knows what your nervous tics are and what books you tend to read in your spare time and where you grew up
- could recognize your voice anywhere! his eyes literally light up when he hears you coming around the corner :)
- loves it when you lift his hood enough to playfully nip at his chin or when you sneak under it completely while giggling and kissing him all over his face
- also loves nose kisses <3
- blushes easily
- anytime you look up at him, he has stars in his eyes and feels his heart stop a bit and he for sure is blushing under that hood because he’s completely head over heels for you and can’t believe you feel the same
- gives the best hugs!!!!!!!!
- his love language is definitely physical touch okay don’t fight me on this (also gift giving but we’ll get to that later)
- like just imagine that giant mountain of a man with the sweetest heart holding your hand (or linking fingers omg!!!) or lightly touching your shoulder or waist when he walks by <333
- he obviously has social anxiety but once he’s comfortable with you, he will 10000% turn to you for reassurance or comfort by just touch alone
- also… since he’s so freaking huge, imagine clinging to him like a koala and he just casually walks about with you wrapped around him
- this guys strikes me as ticklish idk why but let’s go with it
- imagine cuddling with him (how the two of you manage to fit into one cot i have no idea) and your hair brushes against the sensitive skin along his neck or you rest your hand on his abdomen and chest and he just gets kinda giggly all of a sudden
- has nightmares a lot :(
- he feels pretty awkward about it and apologizes for waking you up and starts to roll over in bed but you immediately comfort him and wrap your arms around him and distract him with random facts or hobbies you want to try, anything that’ll get his mind off of the bad dream
- you usually make him hot chocolate after a nightmare so the two of you curl up in bed, sipping on the sweet drink while asking him questions about his hometown until he’s smiling again
- on that note… he definitely has a sweet tooth
- you’ll bake him all sorts of sweets and try out new recipes and he’s like a little puppy that follows you around the kitchen or sits at the table and offers to help you or lick the spoon or something, he’s so cute <3
- he’s a people pleaser for sure so he would literally do anything for you
- this guy radiates sunshine/golden retriever bf vibes but would absolutely lose his shit if something bad happened to you or if he found you hurt/crying
- can go from 0 to 100 real quick
- back to the topic of gift giving!!! he always picks fresh flowers for you when he’s out and about, like he’ll make it his mission to scout out fields or little markets to get something nice for you
- also, he sketches a lot ! so he’ll oftentimes gift you with his drawings, like just leaving them on your cot or tucking them in the mirror or somewhere you’ll find them during the day to cheer you up
- overall, könig is a total sweetheart and i want to hug him immediately !!
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miioouu · 4 months
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I think about Camgirl x soap….maybe part 2??
Haha, finally done with university so now i have all the time in the world to think and drool over hot fictional men with you all!!! Here’s part one of this. TW: smut, phone sex, female reader WC: 950 
Weeks pass since you and your favourite fan started talking. Although you've learned a bit about him, never his name “Call me Soap, kitten. Sounds hot when you do” And now you don't have to wonder what he sounds like. If you think his comments in the chat are lewd, you're not ready for the voice messages he leaves you past midnight. 
Breathy whispers, low groans and whines; he told you he has to keep quiet, he shares a room with his colleagues, and yet, he can't help it, it's become a routine for the both of you now. You wait for your screen to light up, a giddy smile on your face when you press the play button “Thought ‘bout you all day long bonnie. Sucked at practice today, my aim’s shitty because of you now, might lose my job because of you, sweet kitty” He always starts the blaming, making you roll your eyes as you bite your lip, waiting in anticipation for what's coming next. The sound of his sheets being shifted under his weight, he hisses when the bed creaks a little too loudly, it makes you giggle the way he blames you some more. “But you'd like that, eh? If I lost my job? You'd love it, all my attention would be on you, not like it's not now…you're always on my mind, those pretty tits of yours. Gosh those perky nipples, wanna suck on ‘em'' His breathing becomes heavy, and so does yours. It doesn't take a genius to know that he's slipping his hand under his boxers, the sound of the elastic softly smacking against his skin is an obvious indicator, and you can't help but join him. “Want my hands all over you, pretty girl. I know you want it too, yeah? So soft I bet. So plush, just want to bite you, and leave my mark on ya.” 
And he blames you again “So far away from me. If you were here, it would be your hand wrapped around my cock, kitty. And if I’m lucky enough maybe it would be your mouth, yeah?” He takes in a sharp breath, and so do you. You exhale shakily as your fingers dip under your cotton panties, sucking your teeth at how wet you are, maybe you should send him a picture? He deserves it after all. The tip of your digits brushing against your twitching clit, and you huff, imagining, and being sure that his hands would feel a lot better; rough and calloused against your soft skin, it would feel like heaven. “Fuck, I can already picture it, bonnie. Those sweet lips of yours, you know I love it when you put on that red lipstick too. Can you imagine it, how it would leave a pretty ring around my dick? So pretty, all yours to taste too.” He hums, the sound of his slick can be faintly heard in the background of the voice message. You drooled at the thought, making you think about how he’d taste. Salty, a little sour maybe? Maybe even with a hint of sweetness, the guy is in shape and cares about his health. If not for the military, for you; the pride that swells in his chest whenever you mention how badly you want to bite his arm, how much you need to lick on his abs. The image alone flusters you. You groan as you push your panties down, they frustrate you as you keep drawing tight circles against your bundle of nerves, trying to match his pace. You know how he likes it too, he’s spoken about it before; “Slow kitty… I like the build up. Slow and nice, not too tightly. And then my mind starts to wander, to you and that silk blue set, and I go crazy. I can’t help it, ok? Wanna know how tight you’d be around me.” 
“Or maybe, if the Gods are on my side, I can feel that pretty cunny of yours, eh? What do you say? I think she’d love me. God, kitty, I wanna stretch you out. Wanna make you cry on it, wanna make you bounce on it, wanna make you cream on it. Gosh kitty, I bet you’d love it. I’d fuck you so good, I promise you I will, so good you’d forget about those silicon toys of yours, they can’t compare. I’ll make it so you can’t think about anyone but me, no one will ever make you feel the way I’ll make you feel sweetheart.”  
His voice is rough and breathless, like he’s slowly descending to madness, slowly ascending to heaven. The rest of his message is the echoing of his groans and shallow breaths, it’s like he’s biting his lip to not let out a too loud noise. He spits on his sensitive tip, letting if ooze down his length and the thought of it alone is making your arch your back. He’s so good at it, he should’ve been the one on the screen, he’d make millions from his voice and heavy accent alone. It’s the repeating whispers of your name that gave him away and pushed you over the edge. You moan out his ‘name’ again, you let it roll out your tongue like a prayer, Goodness, you needed him badly too. He deserves a reward no? The man that got you obsessed and delusional, he deserves a picture of your drenched fingers pulled apart and connected with your juices. He also deserves that last message you sent before completely shutting off your phone to mellow down your excitement and anxiety “Maybe you will feel ‘that pretty cunny’ soon, mmm? What do you think?”
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iliketangerines · 16 days
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Some angst😎 reader sacrifices themselves to save the others ((you can write like whoever you wanna write for it)) like I have a TikTok where it’s a shadow saving sonic and throwing him through this thing and there’s sad music in the background and im just imagining like reader pushing them through a portal as she turned and is now alone with the enemy- she’s clearly gonna die but she’s bring the rest sometime-
you go first
a/n: i wrote something similar to this, so i'm keeping this one short
pairing: raiden x gn!reader
warnings: none :)
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you lay on the ground, coughing up blood as Shao Kahn towers over you, axe overhead and ready to slice your head clean off
Raiden knocks the weapon from Shao Kahn’s hand, growling as starts to fling bolts of lightning toward the draconic general
getting up on wobbly legs, you try to stumble over to Raiden, to help in his fight, but Liu Kang grabs onto your arm and starts to pull you back through the portal
you struggle as  you watch Shao Kahn start to overpower Raiden, picking up his axe and swinging it in large arcs to catch Raiden off balance
he starts to lose, to falter in his steps as he tries to avoid Shao’s blows, and panic settles into your body as Liu Kang brings you closer to the portal and away from Raiden
Raiden can’t die, no, he was champion, the chosen one
he cannot die
and so, you pull your knife and swing it towards Liu Kang, drawing his blood and causing him to let go of you, and you make a mad dash toward Raiden
pulling at his arm, you draw him away from Shao Kahn, telling him to leave it alone and go back to the portal
begrudgingly, Raiden runs, hand in yours as he drags you to the portal, but you’re so tired and your lungs are filling with blood
you can hear Shao’s heavy footsteps behind you, pounding along the dirt as he roars at you both to come back
your legs are failing, faltering, and you know you’re not going to survive
your ribs are cracked, broken bones digging into your lungs, your head spins with every harsh movement and blood runs down from your head into your vision
life was coming to an end for you, and Raiden was refusing to let go of your hand as he neared the portal
just as he runs through the portal with you in tow, you let go of his hand and yank it back just as it blinks out of existence, stabbing your foot into Shao’s foot to stop him from running through the portal into Earthrealm
the last glimpse Raiden catches of you is General Shao’s axe swinging high over your neck as you wave goodbye with a small smile, eyes closing shut as you accept your fate
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cerise-grenadine · 17 days
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so, when @dearestdo3 posted her lovely Pokémon drawing, it made me want to sketch my old team too! well, i should say teamS because i couldn’t choose in the end 😩
so here’s the roundup: (it’s more of what team would represent him rather than who he’d pick of course 🤭) (and it's my AU!Snape so no Lily or does involved)
Young angry Death Eater Sev.
Corvisquire — his patronus is a raven, and although at this age he wouldn’t be able to cast one, i still had to include one bc it represents him quite well. (not too fond of other raven Pokémon, i hesitated with Corviknight but find him too sturdy/metal-looking)
Seviper — he obviously needs a snake Pokémon. not my fave snake design but i usually pick this one for two reasons: can’t ignore that he’s called SEViper, and i like that he is canonically Zangoose’s rival who reminds me of McGonagall/Gryffindor :D
Alolan Marowak — this Sev has traumatic mommy issues so Cubone is a nice pick, and the sinister witchy Ghost evolution is 👌🏻 (tried to draw him in an agressive action pose and failed miserably alas, so he’s just waiting ominously)
Duskull — i had to pick at least one Death Eater Pokémon, so the death mark one it is.
Absol — he’s just there for the gloomy emo vibe 🤌🏻
Crobat — well. he’s a BAT. a COOL BAT.
thought about drawing a Voldie-Serperior in the background and then got lazy so please imagine he's there 😌
Chiller adult Sev. pissed off by his work and moldy voldy coming back, but overall has been working on his issues and is much more in control of himself. healthier habits and hobbies.
Seviper & Corvisquire are still there bc they’re very representative of him
Gloom — i wanted a poison Pokémon for potion reasons. Gloom and her oozing seemed an interesting pick — especially since i accidently gave his gf a Bellossom
Hatterene — she’s so witchy and so gender ✨i felt she was not unlike his adult self, solitary, a bit sinister, magical and graceful.
Umbreon — he’s here for the emo vibes but chiller than Absol
Sinistea — magical tea for the magic British school. again chill vibes but also a little bit dark — fits Sev.
Muireann. what can i say, she’s all fluff and love and music
Blissey — she’s nurturing, she’s caring, she’s wholesome.
Vulpix — she’s also young and fiery
Gourgeist — Gourgeist is a redhead jack-o-lantern, and in French she’s named after banshees, so she made sense in the team of an Irish witch.
Wooloo — a wee happy lamb! also they have the same hairdo.
Bellossom & Meloetta are both here for musical reasons: Muireann is a dancer and singer and music is one of the most important things in her life — she’d have musical Pokémon.
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delphi-shield · 6 months
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communion // claire redfield
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Claire x afab!Reader Smut wc: 2065 mdni - 18+
this is literally my worst nightmare i dont ever want to have a relationship like this again. unless......
the pillow princess kinda jumped out of me and onto the page, sorry. or you're welcome. idk. up to you.
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afab reader, tit sucking, oral (reader receiving), religious imagery (my bad), really meandering prose, don't get into a relationship like this i'm begging you, not proofread
It’s over. You’re not sure it ever really began, but watching Claire sling her backpack over her shoulder, motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm, you know it’s over.  It’s over, and she’s back at your place the following weekend.
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It’s over.
You’re not sure it ever really began, but watching Claire sling her backpack over her shoulder, motorcycle helmet tucked under her arm, you know it’s over. She’s not mad. It’s nothing that you did. She just can’t continue on like this, that’s all. No hard feelings. Water under the bridge. You’re still friends. Nothing has to change.
It’s over, and she’s back at your place the following weekend. Crashed out next to you on your couch, heels kicked up on your coffee table, she looks like she never left. 
You wish things would change. You wish this wasn’t so tense, wish the silence didn’t feel like it was crushing you. Every movement is magnified, every breath, every uncomfortable shift. You’re hyper aware of the smallest details. Claire seems infuriatingly unbothered. Her foot bobs carelessly. She pulls her hair from her ponytail with no concern for how it spills over her shoulder, how the scent of her shampoo drifts over to you. (Coconut. Not her usual scent. You wonder if she’s just mixing things up or if she’s showered at someone else’s place, and the jealousy of this imagined transgression carves out a cavern in your chest.) 
If there’s any part of her that feels the tension the way that you do, she doesn’t show it. The TV drones on in the background, a cooking competition show from the mid-2000’s. Claire scrolls through her phone, one arm propped up behind the couch - behind you. She doesn’t like this show. You know she doesn’t like this show. She made it a point to tell you how much she hated it every time it was on, yet she sits next to you silently. This is less affection and more apology.
Her hand settles against your ankle to get your attention, showing you a text from someone at work and complaining half-heartedly about their incompetence. She doesn't move her hand away. This is how it always starts with Claire. Innocently enough that it doesn’t draw attention, not until her hands are helping you out of your clothes and laying you back against the closest surface.
You should pull your leg back. She wouldn't push you. You know she wouldn't. She would accept your silent refusal without a fuss, any awkwardness wiped away without so much as a word. She’s good like that - good at making you comfortable in the face of confrontation. Her hand strokes along your calf, thumb rubbing circles into your tense muscles. You sigh, somewhere between a noise of enjoyment and exasperation at how readily you’re giving in to her again. Her hand rests against your knee only a moment before sliding up to your thigh.
“Claire,” you say, voice a warning.
“What?” She feigns innocence, setting her phone aside. Her fingers curl, knuckles pressing circles against your skin.
You give her a look - the kind a mother spares a child who’s been misbehaving - but otherwise say nothing. Your attention turns back to the TV, trying to focus on the show. If you fill your head with the dramatics of reality TV, the dramatics of your life will pale in comparison, surely.
From the corner of your eye, you see Claire’s smile thin to something mischievous. She scoots closer to you, her leg pressing against yours. Her arm slips down from the back of the couch, wrapping around your shoulders and curling you closer to her, close enough for her to mouth at your neck, to nip at your earlobe and send a shower of sparks down your spine.
Your body ignites at her touch, the yearning you had prayed to fade surfacing so quickly that it makes you ache. Any pretenses of disinterest fall away so quickly it’s shameful. You arch into her, turning your head to capture her lips with yours. She stops, pulling back from you, so close and so far.
"No, no, keep watching," Claire says, the pattern of her breathing not even disturbed. She turns your head back to the TV with two fingers against your jaw. Her hand glides down your neck, glancing over your collarbone, pausing its pilgrimage only to cup your breast. She holds you there, feels the weight of you in her palm, and then her body’s slipping between your legs, knocking them wide with her knee. Her mouth latches onto your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses against your pulse.
It’s going to hurt, you think. Her teeth catch at your collar bone, the strap of your tank top shuffled down your shoulder. She sucks her devotion into your skin, the mark mottled and darkening even before she runs her teeth along it to ensure it takes. She squeezes your breast firmly, thumbs brushing over your nipple, aching and peaked under your clothes.
She pulls back from your skin, wedging her nails between her teeth and prying her press-ons off.  You groan, swat at her limply, murmuring ‘gross’. She tosses them aside, and a moment’s irritation passes through you. You’ll have to find those later.
But for now? She has you fucking pavlov’d. Your knees fall apart for her, skin prickling as the back of her fingers trail against your inner thigh. Her fingers drag against your clothed cunt, not nearly enough pressure to even begin to unwind the coiling knot in your stomach.
She hums, her hand laying flat against your stomach, just above the waistband of your panties. She waits for any sign of protest. When you offer none, she hooks a finger under the elastic, tugging gently.
"This okay?" She asks.
You should say no. You should tell her that you’re going to bed, that she can have the couch, that you can’t keep doing this.
The thought crosses your mind as you’re lifting your hips to help her. Your hand cups her jaw, tugs her up to your face. You kiss her to satisfy a bone-deep need for her, your mouth falling open for her tongue to claim - and she does so eagerly.
She pulls away from you to work her way down your body, kissing a wet trail down your skin and stopping to free you from your shirt. Bared to her, she sits back on her thighs to admire you, her eyes half-lidded and lips swollen red. Her gaze flutters between your tits and your cunt, brows pinching together. This is the toughest decision she’s had to make all night.
Her hands grasp your hips, tugging you down the couch. There's a power in her grip that you don't often see, and it makes your stomach squirm. Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, stifling a giggle. The corner of her lips lift into a smile. She leans over you, taking a nipple into her mouth. For a moment you think she’s made her choice. You arch into her mouth, whine sharpening into something high and needy when her fingers pinch your neglected nipple.
But she pulls away from your with a wet, sloppy noise. She presses your tits together for a moment to kiss both of them, and then she’s making her way back down your body. Her hands squeeze you until she rests between your thighs.
Her arms slip under your knees, hands coming around to brace the top of your pillowy thighs. She pauses, a dreamy sigh floating from her lips. She urges your hips up again to tuck one of the couch pillows underneath you, and then she’s settled, encouraging your legs to rest over her shoulders and lock you there once you oblige. Claire's cheek pillows against your thigh. This has always been where she looks most at peace.
Claire doesn’t eat pussy. She worships it. 
Any vestiges of shame disappear the moment her head dips between your legs. Her tongue laves a worshipful path against your heat, bottom to top, savoring the journey and moaning her adoration into your skin.
If you could see her, see the way she admires your cunt with such reverence, you might push her away. She kneels at your altar and laps at the communion your body offers her so willingly. There's forgiveness in the act, collecting absolution on her tongue. Her fingers dimple the flesh of your thighs and tug you closer, and for a moment it feels like she needs you just as much as you need her.
The sounds coming from her are sinful. She suckles your clit so eagerly that you have to fist a hand in her hair and tug her back, the sensation too much, too quick. She pulls back, kissing your folds gently in apology. Her tongue shifts to swipe flat and broad over your folds. Her nose nudges against your pudgy clit, just enough sensation for you to lay back, boneless, moans falling from your lips.
She takes her time with you, savoring every moment she spends with her lips around you. There’s no reservation in the way she slurps and sucks at you, no shame in how she drinks down everything that you give her and returns it back to you in a moan, a hum against your skin that leaves you buzzing. If she could taste your moans, if she could kiss you quiet at the same time, you could die happy.
Her tongue churns against your clit, steady and predictable. She makes no effort to pin your hips down. Her shoulders roll with every buck and twitch, holding you to her, relishing the way that you writhe. Her finger presses into you, and you swear to god you hear her laugh against you. Another finger joins the first, the resistance negligible. You can’t tell which noises are from Claire and which are from the way your body greedily sucks her fingers in.
She knows your body well, but she rushes nothing. Her fingers curl into that spot inside you that makes you wail. Your hand fists in her hair, trying to hold her mouth in place, your voice high and desperate when you plead, “there, right there, please, Claire.”
Your thighs clamp around her head, hips rutting against her face. Her fingers grind against that perfect, spongy spot inside you and fuck, you’re gone, back arching, heel digging into her shoulder blade. Your toes curl, the pleasure erupting and spreading hot through your veins. Her tongue curls against your clit, lips shifting into a smile against you that you can picture with such perfect clarity even as your vision blurs. She coaxes moan after broken moan from you, not satisfied until your voice turns to a whimper, until your hands push feebly at her shoulders.
She pulls away from you with a last lurid lick. A shudder shakes your body, and she’s quick to soothe it, pulling you into her arms.
Claire slides up your body, her hands skimming reverently against your sides. Her weight presses you into the couch, her cheek resting against your stomach. In the gleam of the TV, her mouth shines with spit and you.
"Who got kicked off?" she asks casually, her breathing already evened out again.
"I dunno. Think I blacked out for a little."
Claire laughs, her hands squeezing your waist. She plants a kiss on your stomach and nuzzles closer. “That good, huh?”
You roll your eyes - not that she can see - and tug her hair just hard enough to be playful. Not gonna dignify that with a response, you think.
The moment is comfortable. It’s warm, familiar, even.
It’s over, you remind yourself. Her backpack is still by the door, ready to be picked up on her way out. You try to sit up and she presses you back down, whining that you’re comfortable, that you’re warm, and soft, a perfect pillow, please, baby, just hang out for a little. She plants a gentle kiss to your sternum and whispers promises of cleaning you up in a moment.
It’s a lie, you know that. You’ll both fall asleep here. You can only hope that you’ll wake with her still in your arms.
Against your better judgement, you reach up and pull the blanket down from the back of the couch. You fold it back to cover the both of you. Your hand pushes her hair from her face. You don't mean to comb your fingers through her hair. You don't mean to untangle her locks, to fix the mess that you had made of her. You can't help yourself.
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