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benevolentcalamity · 3 years

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Be Our Guest

So uh.

This is a thing. That I am doing.

Anyway.

Alcina Dimitrescu x Female! Listener

Just so we’re clear this is too long to get to much so this’ll have a smut chapter next time. Just FYI. This is just implied smut but nothing happens, so enjoy.

Enjoy you stunning pomegranates

“Mother, I found her first - I should taste her blood!”

“No, me, I’m the one that said she was pretty!”

“Daughters, please. There’s plenty to go around, so don’t lose your heads.”

Through the throbbing pulsations in your head, you pry your eyes open enough to peer through your lashes. Three black clothed figures are in a perfect line, bickering amongst themselves until the towering white behind them reprimands them, patting them on their heads. It pushes through them, approaching you, until you can make out the figure.

A woman, undeniably tall, dressed elegantly in a white gown and hat, black gloved fingers fiddling with the cigarette holder with almost disturbing dexterity. Her red-painted lips stretch into an amused grin too big for her face, clearly noticing you rousing from unconsciousness. Kneeling, she reaches for you, patting your cheek.

“Wake up.” Her voice is more playful, like a mother ready to torture you with a day full of work. “Come now, wake up.”

Her patting grows harsher, and you blink a few times until she’s clear. By instinct you put your hand up in defense, and she backs away, her only objective having really been to wake you. Turning a bit to cough into your fist, you push down on the floor to sit upright, rubbing your eyes.

“She looked cuter passed out,” One of the black trio pouts, prompting one of the others to shush her.

The tall woman’s hand extends toward you, beckoning you. More confused than afraid, you take it, and she pulls - more like yanks - you to your feet. You feel a bit wobbly and maybe cold; a reminder that you are in fact alive, and here you are.

“Name?”

You blink, wrenching your attention from your momentary hunger pangs back to the woman. “E-excuse me, ma’am?”

“What is your name?”

Swallowing, you interlock your fingers to stop them from shaking. “[Name]. [Name] [Last Name].”

She nods. “Well met.” Almost flamboyantly, she puts her cigarette hand to her chest. “Alcina Dimitrescu - but you may address me as ‘Madam,’ ‘Ma’am,’ or ‘My Lady,’ understood?”

“Yes.” You don’t know what to do.

“... Well don’t stand there pouting, daughters, introduce yourselves.”

With visible glee, the black haired girl steps forward, giving you a somewhat snobbish grin through red-stained teeth. “Cassandra,” She sings, bowing her head.

Then the redhead. “Daniela.” Her smile is more... seductive, but one that signals to you her type of seduction isn’t the kind you’d want.

The blonde is last, her smile a Cheshire cat grin - one that simply says ‘danger’. Nothing more, nothing less. “Bela.”

“Good daughters.” Lady Dimitrescu grins in satisfaction, putting her hands on her hips. “Now, the moment we’ve waited for.” She then raises her hands, snapping her fingers.

“Yes, Mother!”

Cassandra and Daniela move to either of your sides, gripping your arms. They’re too strong to fight against, rendering you motionless in seconds. On your right, Daniella flashes you a smile, before gripping your wrist and slicing your palm with a curved blade.

You cry out, prompting her to move her lips to your ear. “Shhh... Plenty of time for screaming,” She purrs, stretching your arm out as Lady Dimitrescu approaches.

Wrenching your wrist from Daniela’s fingers, she leans down, pausing for a moment before dragging her tongue across your wound. Almost ravenously she does a few more strokes, sucking on it to get as much blood as she can. Fear and confusion bring nausea at the sight - you swallow whatever vomit threatens to wrench itself from you.

She pauses again, eyebrows raising, before her lips open into a red-stained grin as she stands straight.

“Sweet and succulent!” She declares, prompting the trio to close in on you more, holding onto your arm and partaking as well. “Now, now, daughters, we mustn’t be so hasty. This is just too good to disappear into the cellar.”

“String her up!” Bela grins. “Store her and we’ll drink from her when we wish!”

Daniela’s arm goes around your waist, her free hand holding your chin. “But she’s so cute - would it be fair to treat her like a pig?” “What do you say, Mother?” Cassandra asks.

With a quick onceover of you - why that includes an elevator look at you you’ve no idea - Lady Dimitrescu takes a drag from her cigarette, blowing a smoke ring toward your head. “Whether this girl has somewhere to go from here, it doesn’t matter,” She hums. “Her blood is some of the best we’ve had in a good while - she’s worth keeping alive.”

You swallow, Bela and Cassandra backing from you, Daniela moving behind you to keep cuddling you. “As of right now, she is a guest in our home,” Lady Dimitrescu continues. “I will deliberate as to what to do with her; Mother Miranda won’t need to know so long as she’s not making trouble. Daniela, show little [Name] where she’ll be staying.”

“Yes, Mother.” Daniella grips your arm, thrusting you outward as if dancing with you, before wrenching you back to her. With a sultry giggle she lifts you bridal-style into her arms, the other two waving at you as you’re sped away as though flying on a magical carpet.

It’s a smooth ride, one that’d easily repeatedly trick you into thinking you’re gliding instead of being carried, but a glance at Daniela’s grinning face reminds you that you’re indeed welcome - you’re not home.

A second passes, and she stops, putting you down onto your feet. However, her arms wind back around you, but around your shoulders, leaving you at the mercy of her teeth.

“Here we are!” She giggles, throwing her arm out, inviting you to look around the room. It’s large and... definitely more Versailles than any you’ve seen, but comfortable had it not been for the fact you’re here with women that could spell your demise.

Releasing you from her hold, Daniela circles in front of you, flashing you a smile alongside a tilt of her head. “I hope you enjoy your stay. And if there’s anything we can do to make your stay more...” She pauses for effect, running the blunt edge of her blade down your face. The cold steel freezes your spine, and your palms grow clammy. “Don’t hesitate to ask.”

She replaces the touch of her blade with her hand, forcing you to look in her eyes. “And I’m warning you~” She sings, “You’d better not do anything to make Mother regret her well-placed mercy. You understand me, little one?”

Quivering, you nod. “I-I understand.”

Her smile grows to show her teeth, and her blade snakes around the back of your neck, forcing you to lean forward to avoid being cut. Mischievous, she leans forward as fell, planting a kiss on your cheek before retreating, dispersing into locust-like insects before leaving, the door somehow closing when the swarm leaves.

Stepping away from the door, your lips purse and release with emotions and sounds that crash against each other, creating a practical thunderstorm in your chest. Everything’s still spinning a bit; your head still has a nasty bump from when some smelly hairy man with a hammer jumped you in the village. Your brain’s foggy, but your memories are still intact. How long, though, is the question.

Deciding to examine the room, you walk around, taking your shoes off and holding them to avoid staining the rug. The first thing you notice is the vanity, gilded and polished to perfection. Sitting down in front of it, you comb your fingers through your hair, more to calm yourself down than anything. Eventually, your hands fall still in your lap, and you stare into the eyes of a girl powerless to stop whatever will happen to her in this castle.

Dread slowly twists your stomach, and you stand, meandering to the window. The snow falls swiftly, nearly obscuring the view; a telltale sign a snowstorm is brewing. No sense in trying to escape and risking frostbite.

“I guess... I just wait now,” you mutter.

Helpless, you head over to the bed. Shedding your coat, you fold it neatly and put it on the nightstand, crawling into the layers of blankets. It smells like linen that, though clean, hasn’t been touched in years, not even by the faintest speck of dust. What’s there instead is an oddly comforting aroma, like grandma’s house but if she were rich.

Reaching into your pocket, you tug out your phone. No signal.

You’re isolated, locked away, with no one knowing where you are.

The knowledge brings tears to your eyes, hanging over you as you tug the covers over your head, eventually curling up and drifting softly to sleep.

___

What rouses you from sleep isn’t your alarm clock as you’d have hoped, nor is it the chirp of the birds or your phone ringing asking where you’ve been. Rather, it’s your nose being, for lack of a better word, jiggled. Someone or something is poking the tip and wiggling it in circles.

Jerking your head a bit, you swat with your hand, opting to cover your nose, furrowing your brows.

Then a hand grips your wrist, and your eyes open. With black hovering above you, you’re thrown into perfect alertness, the red hair skirting over your cheek sending your palms down as you attempt to sit up properly.

Daniela grins maliciously at your reaction, licking her lips. “Mother needs you.”

As she says that, a swarm of bugs burst through the door, clouding around you for a moment. Their buzzing almost seems to mimic your cries, some landing on you to wrench more screaming from you, before they pull away from you, concentrating at the foot of the bed, eventually forming Cassandra, Bela eventually sauntering in as well.

“Y-Your mother’s asking for me?” You near-squawk.

Cassandra snorts. “Of course. What else?” She asks. “Mother really likes you. Now, upright.”

You’re so spooked by the intrusion and the presence of all three sisters that you hurriedly slide away from Daniela and onto the floor, sliding into your shoes. Swallowing, you jolt at the sisters approaching you, a bead of sweat falling from your brow when their hands raise.

“Oh shit.”

They each grip you with both hands, suddenly turning into insects aside from them and holding you in the air, and just like with only Daniela you’re gliding. Only this time, you’re screaming horrendously, but the sound is so drowned out by the triplets’ sadistic giggling you’re unsure you’re making a sound. One hand crawls up your leg, causing you to squirm, and for a moment their faces materialize just so you can see them laugh at you for a moment.

Through sharp turns and whatever else, you’re eventually unceremoniously tossed to your feet, standing in front of a door. Whirling around, the girls materialize again, waving at you before dispersing into their swarms, swirling around you to make you squeal before flying off, likely to get to their own duties. Biting your lip, you turn back around, raising your hand to knock on the door.

“Enter,” Lady Dimitrescu’s voice calls. As you do, she continues, “Very good. At last, someone else around here with any sort of dignity and manners.”

“You... wanted to see me?” You ask, closing the door behind you.

“Sit.”

Peeking, you note the bench near the vanity where she’s sitting, avoiding eye contact with her reflection as it applies overwhelmingly red lipstick. Softly, you sit down in it, folding your hands on your knees.

“As you’re most definitely aware, I’ve had a discussion with my daughters as to what to do with you, and I’ve come to understand you’re certain to meet a grizzly demise if you attempt to leave this place.” The calm in her voice and the way she momentarily looks at you through the mirror twists your stomach. “... Ah. Dear girl, your heartbeat - I can hear it. It’s music to my ears.”

Pausing, she wipes some stray lipstick from the corner of her lips. From here, she looks normal sized, but you’re a good stretch from her. Swallowing, you try your best to remain composed. With no one coming to save you or even knowing you’re here, your best hope of survival is appealing to this giant of a woman.

“My daughters and I both adore you - and I mean adore you.” At first she cranes her neck, but then decides to turn her chair around, gesturing at you with her lipstick. “Look at you, my dear! Delicious blood, yes, but such pretty looks - it’d be a waste to just toss you down into the cellar.”

“So... what are you going to do to me?”

She throws her head back to laugh. “To you, the four of us can agree anything’s possible. With you, the decision itself is clear.” Her smile falls into a straight, business-y line, and you gulp. “You’ll become a resident of my castle, and you will not die a horrible, painful death.”

Relief at not dying washes over you, but then she stands and approaches you in what feels like a blink, and you flinch.

“However.” She uses a gloved hand to lift your chin. “You are not to leave, disobey, and you will repay us by allowing us to drink your blood. That is our condition. If you decide you don’t want to stay, then out of the good of my heart, I can promise you right now that your death in this room will be quick and painless.”

Your face grows cold. So you can be a personal bloodbag for all four denizens of the castle, or you can die. Splendid.

“Think about it. No one’s going to live to even see your face if they try to save you, and you’ll have the pleasure of being in my care as opposed to that fool Heisenberg,” She hums along with a chuckle deep in her bosom. “And if you want my personal opinion, you’d be far better off.”

Do you really have an option? “... O-Okay. I’ll stay in the castle.”

Her face brightens with that signature smile. “Ah, good girl!” She leans down and her hand reaches to pat your cheek. “We’ll find ways to take your blood that won’t leave scars, don’t you worry.”

Ring! Ring!

With a roll of her eyes, she straightens up. “As if there’s any more ways to take up my time...” She beckons you to follow as she returns to her vanity, and you awkwardly stand at her side as she sits back down, picking up the phone.

A moment passes, and she composes herself. “Mother Miranda, I regret to inform you that something unexpected has happened, and I’ll be a bit late for the meeting.” Glancing at you, she beckons you again, scrunching up her nose at your confusion. Lifting her free hand, she pats her lap twice, and beckons you again.

You blink. Does she want me to sit in her lap or something?

“Are you... asking me to sit?” You ask, and she nods. As you begin the motion she guides you the rest of the way with her hand around your arm, and you awkwardly shuffle so you’re comfortable.

Through her dress and your clothes, she’s cool to the touch, but not to imply she’s a walking corpse or something. Glancing at her reflection, she gives you an almost cheeky smirk as she adjusts her arm to keep you balanced.

“No, Mother Miranda.” Who is...? “Yes, of course, I understand the importance of this meeting. This will take me about fifteen minutes at most... Yes, Mother Miranda, I swear.” Then she nods, her hat gracing your forehead. “Very well.”

Then she hangs up the phone, letting out an exasperated huff. “So demanding.” And with no effort at all, she lifts you below your arms and stands, putting you on your feet like a toddler, patting your head. “You’ll have the pleasure of dining with us tonight. Since she seems to like you so much, Daniela will be responsible for ensuring you know where to go and what to do.”

Trying not to protest or show nervousness, you nod, to which she gives a satisfied upward nod.

“Now then, you’re grown enough to remember where your room is, yes? But feel free to explore the castle - but allow me to warn you, the cellar is off-limits. Do you understand?”

You nod. “I-I understand, Madam.”

“Very good. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have matters to attend to. When I return, I expect you’ll be well accustomed to the castle.” She flashes you a smile, her hip gracing your shoulder as she passes you. “And [Name]?”

You turn to face her, some sweat dripping down your neck. “Yes, Madam?”

Her eyes narrow, but her smile doesn’t drop; a look that says you’re in for something when she returns. “Enjoy your stay.”

Then she leaves, and the door shuts behind her, leaving you to listen to the sound of her footsteps fading away. Swallowing, you meander towards the door yourself, pushing it open.

And just as you do, the buzz of the insect swarms fill the air, and you clench your fists to stay calm even as the sisters materialize. With playful yet sinister smiles, they approach you, with Daniela going behind you to hug you just like before.

“Mother’s left for her meeting,” Cassandra points out.

A crazed look in her eye, Bela reaches and pokes your face. “I haven’t cut open a pretty girl in a while!”

“No, no~!” Daniela near-whines. “I’ve always liked the cute ones - I say we play with her a little.”

“And Mother made us promise not to leave scars.” Cassandra reaches out, cupping your chin, grinning at your face losing color from the dread twisting your stomach. “So don’t worry. We’ll be gentle.”

“We promise,” Daniela purrs.

#alcina x reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #resident evil #resident evil village #re8 #re8 dimitrescu #my writing #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu x female reader

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shig-a-shig-ah · 3 years

Text

GOOD CLEAN FUN

» pairing: chisaki kai x fem!reader

» cw: noncon, somnophilia, oral sex, medical kink, needles (brief mention) 18+, minors DNI.

» a/n: Quirkless AU! This was written for the BNHA Degeneracy 9 to 5 Server collab.

» wc: 5k

» ao3 mirror

Dentistry is a disgusting profession. It makes Chisaki's skin crawl, the poor care people take of themselves, and he frequently regrets being pushed into this family business of staring down filthy gullets all day, though he takes sadistic pleasure in refusing to be gentle with the worst of his patients. Why should he be, when they obviously have such disregard for their own health and hygiene? No, in those cases he takes great satisfaction in ripping the rot out by the root with nothing but pliers and his own brute strength.

Some days, though...some days there are patients like you, who make it all worth while. Patients who are clean.

You make yourself such an easy mark too, though Kai had expected as much after Kurono so slyly told him that he'd probably want to take care of the new patient in room two personally. Hari wasn't wrong; you're trembling when Kai enters the exam room, staring wide-eyed at the tray of neatly-arranged stainless steel instruments next to the chair in which you're reclining, fingertips gripping at the armrests. You're chewing at your lip too, as though your nerves weren't already apparent enough, those perfectly white, straight teeth digging into your plump lower lip in a way that's practically obscene. Even without a closer look Chisaki can tell what good care you take of that cute little mouth, and it's enough to send his cock twitching.

He takes a seat on the stool next to you as he introduces himself, careful to keep the excitement from his voice and to squint his eyes just right so that you'll know he's smiling even behind the surgical mask he wears, the one that both protects him from those much filthier than you and keeps you from seeing just how cold that grin really is. Your own smile is much more obviously forced, but he likes that you try - it's endearing that you're working hard to be brave even when you look close to tears with anxiety. Of course, he also likes that you're scared, likes that extra little bit of power over you, and that it will make all the easier for him to take advantage, because he's already decided he has to have you.

It's impossible for you to remember how or why this dentophobia started. You can only remember being dragged kicking and screaming to the dentist as a young child, your mother scolding you for refusing to behave. As you got older you managed a little more self-control, but while you can force yourself into the chair, you can do nothing to stop the way you shake and your heart races. It's only made worse by the obvious annoyance you face when practitioners have to deal with you; you know they think you're stupid or immature for this reaction you can't control.

The man before you, however, is smiling sympathetically, gold-flecked eyes crinkling with concern in a way you appreciate. He's handsome even with half his face covered, all bright eyes and perfect dark hair, and your cheeks heat up when he asks if you're nervous. You force out a meek nod, and he chuckles softly.

"No need to be self-conscious. It's a common fear," he says. "But we do offer sedation, if that's something you're interested in. It can help with the nerves."

Your brow furrows slightly. It's not an option you've been offered before, hadn't even realized it was a possibility. "Sedation? Like, put me under?"

"No," he says, chuckling softly again as he turns to the monitor by the chair and starts scrolling through what you assume is your file. "Nothing as severe as that, at least not for a routine cleaning. Just a little nitrous oxide to help take the edge off."

That you have heard of, but always thought it was only used for more intense procedures. "That's laughing gas, right?"

"That's the colloquial name for it, yes. It'll numb you some and help you relax. Although it might make you a little giggly, as the name implies. Some of my patients even enjoy it." Your face heats up again when his intense gaze lingers on you, not just with embarrassment this time, and a small titter escapes you.

Chisaki can't believe his luck with you, if he's being honest. You're exactly his type, and as he expected your dental records are flawless - never so much as a cavity. He's confident too that you'll accept what he's offering with as anxious as you are, and your reaction to his presence. He's not surprised by that; Kai knows the effect he has on people when he tries. Probably he doesn't even need to go through the great lengths he does to get people like you into a compromising position, but he enjoys the process. It's easier this way, with access to medical records so he knows what he's touching, and an army of sedatives to ensure he's perfectly in control of these encounters.

You only deliberate for a moment before nodding and giving him the answer he knew you would. "Okay, I guess I can try it."

The smile he gives you this time is actually genuine as excitement blooms in his gut. "I think you'll find it really helps," he says, daring to rest one hand on your forearm briefly. Even through the thin latex of his gloves, he can feel that your skin is soft, and he feels another pang of anticipation. Then he stands up. "I have to supervise the sedation, so I'll take care of your cleaning and exam personally. I'll be right back and then we can get started."

Your chest is still tight with anxiety as he situates you, arranging a strange mask over your nostrils and instructing you to breath deeply through your nose, but once you catch the scent of that slightly sweet gas being pumped into your lungs, the effects are almost immediate. The tension in your chest abates, your whole body going light and tingly, and suddenly you can't remember what you were ever so afraid of. When Chisaki tells you to open wide, you don't even hesitate, doing so immediately and sticking your tongue out slightly, making an exaggerated 'ahhhhh' sound and then giggling a little, though you couldn't say why.

"I can see it's working already," Chisaki says. He's unable to keep the breathiness out of his tone this time, but he trusts you're too distracted to notice. The way you'd opened so obediently, and the sight of your little pink tongue poking out lewdly has his cock hardening already, and he's only barely begun. He can't stop himself from reaching out, pushing that wet muscle back into your mouth with one finger, letting it linger on your tongue a moment longer than necessary to feel the heat of it before pulling away, but you only giggle at the slightly inappropriate act.

Despite his straining erection begging for relief, Chisaki still has a job to do, and he works with well-practiced efficiency as he goes through the process of cleaning your teeth. The anticipation is as much a part of this as anything else, and he'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy the buildup. He's not a masochist by any means, but these little self-denials are gratifying, only serve to make the end result that much sweeter. Still, he can't help but find himself occasionally distracted by the way you laugh every time he gives you an instruction to open wider, or tilt your head, noticing the way your chest bounces slightly beneath your tight top, and how you lie with your legs slightly spread, so inviting.

Normally he waits until he can render patients like you truly helpless before he touches them, recommending elaborate procedures that they don't realize are entirely unnecessary, but then again most patients don't request or accept sedation for such routine procedures as this. He reaches over to the tank of nitrous oxide, increasing the dose slightly and watching as you slump a little more in the chair, and then he reaches out to trail one gloved hand up your thigh and over your clothed center.

You've barely felt anything this whole time, aware of him working at your teeth but not really registering it, too overwhelmed by the way your whole body feels pleasantly tingly and numb, and it's only after he's ceased fussing over your mouth that you start to notice another sensation, a building tension between your thighs that makes you squirm, a small whine escaping you. Your eyes, closed to defend against the bright overhead light, flutter open, but you can't see him hovering over you anymore.

"We're almost finished," Chisaki says calmly when you whimper again as that slight pressure continues to build. "I just need to enter some notes in your file, and then finish the actual exam."

From out of your line of sight he can see the way you're frowning, your cheeks puffing up slightly with discomfort and arousal, obviously confused. He presses his fingers more firmly against your clothed cunt, palming himself through his pants with his other hand. It's bolder than he'd usually be, but for once he's struggling with restraint, just can't bring himself to wait until he's found some excuse to render you more wholly unconscious in his chair.

"I just...I feel a little funny," you whimper, and then giggle again.

"That's normal," he says, continuing to massage your sex, noticing the way your hips twitch when he strokes over just the right spot. "Some people feel numbness, or a little pressure. As long as nothing hurts, there's nothing to worry about."

You nod, letting your eyes fall closed again. You can't quite help your thighs from twitching; it's a strange feeling, the knot tightening deep in your stomach even as you feel so numb and tingly, and when it intensifies further you feel a stab of shame as you realize exactly what's happening, that you're going to cum even as you try to hold yourself back.

Kai knows it's risky, that all you'd have to do is turn your head and open your eyes to see his straining arousal, but he can't stop himself from working his pants open as quietly as possible and stroking himself properly as he watches the struggle on your face, the way you bite at your lip and obviously try to ignore the sensation, apparently ready to believe this is some spontaneous reaction to your drugged-up state and not his fingers working over you.

Despite the fact that you try to resist the sensation, the tingling in your body intensifies around your clit until your legs are shaking, the walls of your cunt fluttering around nothing and a mortifying whine escaping you. Through your giddiness, however, the humiliation is short-lived, nearly forgotten the moment you find yourself giggling at your own orgasm.

The sight of you quivering as you cum, entirely unaware of his hands on you, only further erodes Kai's patience. "I just need to take one last quick look," he says, and then without waiting for your response he's releasing his cock momentarily, using gloved fingers from both hands to pry your mouth wide again. You squirm slightly when he forces those fingers deep in your mouth, but he removes one hand just as quickly, returning those spit-soaked fingers to his throbbing shaft and fisting himself more urgently. If you can hear the faint wet sounds the action brings, he trusts that you won't question them.

Fuck, and he's close already, the sight of your pink tongue lolling against his fingers only sending the coil in his gut tightening further, and he shoves his fingers a little deeper towards the back of your throat, feeling the muscles there spasm as you gag at the invasion.

"I'm sorry if this is a bit unpleasant," he says shortly, too caught up in the way you look with his fingers probing your mouth to maintain that congenial tone. Even through the gloves he can feel the heat and wetness of your mouth, and it sends shivers down his spine. "This should only take a minute. You have a small mouth - it's difficult to see with your tongue in the way."

He presses his fingers further, not sure why he's explaining himself when you're so obviously unbothered. You're only nodding, spit running down the side of your chin as you salivate around his fingers. On most anyone else he would find the sight nauseating, but seeing your innocent face so debased only spurs him closer to his release. He squeezes his length more tightly, letting the spit-slicked palm of his gloved hand rub over his tip with every stroke, the fingers of his other hand continuing to invade his throat while you simply lay there and take it, and when you finally let out a moan of real distress at the feel of his fingers in the back of your throat, it's enough to send him over the edge, his cock spasming and hot spurts of cum shooting into his gloved hand.

The moment his cock stops twitching he withdraws his fingers from your mouth, stripping off his fouled gloves and tucking himself back into his pant before you can so much as open your eyes. When he turns back to you again, you're staring at the ceiling, grinning slightly with shiny, wet lips.

It takes a few minutes for your head to clear once he removes the mask from your face, and by then you only have the vaguest sense that anything about the experience was strange, and even then it was still vastly more pleasant than any of your prior dental experiences, albeit embarrassing in a slightly different way than usual.

Chisaki waits for you to seem cognizant before drawing your attention to the monitor by the chair. His boldness in touching you did little to truly satisfy him, only made him more eager to fuck you properly, to feel the heat of your tongue against his cock instead of his fingers, and to bury himself in that cunt that responded so sweetly to his touch.

"Your teeth are mostly in good shape," Chisaki says. "But I'm afraid you do have one small cavity. Here, see?" He points at one of your x-rays on the screen, a perfectly healthy tooth but he's confident you won't notice that, that you don't know what to look for, and sure enough you're only nodding, eyes wide. It's adorable, that fearful look on your face. He almost wishes there were a way for you to keep that expression when he has his way with you. "It's only a small one. But I'd recommend a stronger sedative for it, if your nerves are that much of a problem."

"Stronger?"

"It requires an IV," he explains, "and you wouldn't be able to drive yourself home afterwards. You'll still be conscious, technically, but you won't be aware of much."

The idea of having your tooth drilled into already has you quaking, the last traces of your buzz gone, and you agree at once. "Okay. I guess I can ask my roommate to drive me." She probably won't mind; you two do each other favors fairly regularly.

Kai's glad to hear you don't mention a boyfriend. It wouldn't matter in the end, if you had one or not, but the idea of some other man's hands on you still sends a jealous, possessive stab through him. He prefers to believe that he's the only who's touched you, that there aren't others out there tainting you with their filth.

"Great," he says, giving you another one of those reassuring smiles. "Let's get you scheduled."

***

It's a matter of days before you're back again, Kurono having conveniently found a 'cancellation' in the schedule to slot you in. He knows all about Kai's proclivities of course; they've worked together for years, well before Chisaki took over Overhaul Dentistry from his adopted father, and they've known each other even longer. Hari's stayed to watch Kai's little indiscretions once or twice, though he's more prone to lurking outside the door to listen shamelessly, knowing full well that Chisaki has no interest in sharing and would never permit him to touch what he considers his.

Chisaki is practically shaking with impatience by the time you arrive, has to take a few deep breaths to steady his trembling hands before placing the IV and pumping you full of Propofol. He's not sure he's ever been this excited about a patient, but this time around the eagerness has been killing him. He's always considered his libido healthy but not excessive, but he's stroked himself off more times in the last few days that he usually would over the course of a month, waiting for this.

You blink slowly, counting backwards until your words trail off and your eyes fall closed, and then Kai stands up, taking in the sight of you limp before him. You wore a dress today, a summery little thing that buttons from top to bottom, almost as though you'd known what you were coming here for.

He's already hard, his erection straining against the constricting fabric of his pants, but he ignores it for now and focuses on undoing those buttons, savoring each additional glimpse of skin. Your underwear is simple, white cotton panties with a hint of lace around the edges, and a matching bra. He likes them, simple and clean, just like you.

One gloved hand lifts to cup your breasts, kneading that soft flesh and then finding the bud of one nipple and rolling it between his fingers, sending it hardening. He watches your face as he does so - you're not entirely unconscious, but you won't react much, and you certainly won't remember this. Your brow is furrowing just slightly under the attention, and when he moves to toy with your other nipple he hears the faint sigh you let out, takes it as encouragement to shove that garment out of the way and reveal your pert breasts, licking his lips at the sight of the slightly darker skin of your nipples, and the way they've puckered under his attentions so invitingly. He bends and takes one in his mouth, laving his tongue over that stiff peak, biting down lightly.

A little whine escapes you this time, and the sound sends spike of heat through his cock. He knew you'd be responsive to him after the last time, but you're already exceeding his expectations. He tips his head slightly, staring at your mouth, those slightly parted lips.

He's never felt compelled to kiss anyone, all too aware of the filth present in even the cleanest of mouths, but as he stares at your lips he's surprised by the urge to do so. And he knows the risks are minimal, spent more than one of the last several evenings reading through your medical records, giving them a much more thorough evaluation than the release form you'd signed probably warranted. But he couldn't help himself, and now he knows that you take good care of the rest of yourself just like you do your mouth.

He leans forward curiously, encouraged when your lips press just a little back into his, even as your eyes stay closed. He lets his tongue snake out to trace over your mouth, probing between those lips, and you let another soft whine, though your tongue doesn't respond to his. That's okay; it's more enjoyable that he'd have expected and he deepens it anyway, relishing your taste, minty and sweet - obviously you'd prepared yourself for him. He grasps one of your hands and brings it to rub against his cock, panting as he ruts into your palm.

When he finally breaks the kiss, he's equally parts disgusted and aroused by the thin strand of saliva that connects your mouths, staring at it in fascination until it breaks.

That uncharacteristic impatience rears its head again, and Chisaki fumbles with his pants, letting his cock spring forth. He wraps your hand around it briefly, savoring the feel of your small, soft hand caressing his length, and then he moves on just as quickly. It only takes the flick of a switch to lower the chair down so that you're at waist level, and then he's tilting your head towards him, pressing the tip of his cock against those spit-slicked lips. You surprise him by poking that pink tongue out just a little, and for a minute he simple brushes the head of his glans back and forth against it, relishing the soft brush of your wet tongue, and the pleasant jolt it sends through him.

"You're a little tease, aren't you?" he whispers. Then, he pushes forward into the hot cavern of your mouth, swearing under his breath at the feel of you. You gag reflexively when he bumps against the back of your throat, but he only pulls back briefly and surges forward again, one gloved hand coming to rest in your hair gently, holding you in place as he fucks your mouth.

It's not tight without you actively sucking, but it's hot and wet, and the velvety texture of your tongue against him is more than enough. Despite trying to be gentle at first, he finds himself thrusting more roughly as his excitement grows at the sight of his length disappearing between your sweet lips, stroking your hair when you gag harder.

"Shh, now," he scolds to your unresponsive body. "Be good and take it."

It's almost as though you're listening - your head tilts back slightly to accept more of him, your throat contracting around him, and before he can help himself Kai's hips are bucking, his balls tightening and his cock contracting as his load spills down your throat. When he pulls away he can still see the last of his seed coating your tongue, and he spreads it around with his gloved fingers, entranced by the sight.

He adjusts his clothes a bit, not done with you just yet, and then circles around towards you feet. His gloved hands wander up along your thighs, squeezing at that soft flesh, and then tug you down towards him - mindful of the IV still buried in your arm - until your legs dangling off the edge of the chair. He spreads them a little, running one finger over your clothed slit. There's a damp spot at the center of your panties, and his eyes fix on it with great satisfaction.

"You really are eager, hmm?" he murmurs, letting the pad of his thumb hone in on your clit, the outline of that puffy bead visible through the damp cotton. You let out the faintest of whimpers, your hips tilting into his touch slightly, and Kai lets out a shuddering breath before bending forward and burying his face between your thighs, letting his lips move lightly over your covered cunt, catching your clit between his lips to tease your barely-conscious form, earning another soft whimper. His cock is swelling again already at those little sounds, and the scent of you.

Forcing himself to pull away, he works your panties down over your hips and off completely with eager fingers, his eyes fixing on your bare cunt. Your positive to response to his touches is all the more visible now, glistening strands of wetness coating your folds. He uses his thumbs to spread you open, circling your clit with two fingers as he stares at your entrance and letting out a throaty groan when he can see your hole clenching around nothing.

The sight of your perfect cunt so greedy for his cock is entrancing, and he repeats the motion. You're not the first person he's done this with and you certainly won't be the last, but oh, you just might be his favorite, so eager for him. He'd known you were special after that first encounter, but your response to him now is better than he could have imagined a few days ago.

He slides two fingers into you, scissoring them gently to ready you for his cock. He can hear the way your faint breathing has sped up, the skin across your chest darkening slightly as you grow flushed from his efforts, and when he removes his fingers they're coated in your slick. He stares at them curiously, tempted again by new desires, and then slides them into his mouth, savoring the taste of you, sweet and quite unlike anything else.

The throbbing in his cock is growing unbearable, and though there's a part of him that wants to draw this out, wants to savor it, there's even larger part that's desperate to feel that tight hole clenching around him. He shifts you again slightly, bringing your hips to rest at the end of the chair, the contours of the leg rest making your back arch nicely, those perfect tits even more on display, and he takes one in hand as he aligns himself near your entrance, pinching at your nipple hard enough to make you whine.

There are condoms in the pocket of his sterile white lab coat; he's normally vigilant with the protective measures, loathe to expose himself to any unnecessary risks, both hygienically and in terms of leaving evidence behind, but he's tempted to forgo that now. The notes from your last yearly doctor's visit stated you're not sexually active, and he thinks it must be true, that an innocent thing like you is too sweet to lie. Of course, because of that you're not on birth control either, but even that doesn't bother him like it should; it excites him even, the thought of his seed taking root and the surprise that would bring.

He runs his bare cock over your damp slit experimentally, groaning at the unadulterated sensation, and that's enough to convince him to abandon his usual precautions. Kai thrusts forward into your wet heat, letting out a strangled moan. Your cunt is so tight, so hot around his length, and god, it's so much better when he can feel it all, the intense wetness of your cunt creaming around him and every tiny ridge of your velvety walls. The way you whimper when he forces himself into you makes him wonder if perhaps he didn't prepare you quite enough - your walls are fluttering around his cock, obviously struggling to accommodate him, but it's not until he's nestled deep inside, the head of his cock kissing your cervix, that he pauses to let you adjust.

You squirm a little - small, feeble movements - and Kai relishes each slight shift of your body, watching your lips twitch. It's obvious you're trying to speak, but in your drugged up state all that spills forth is barely audible nonsense, tiny whines with a pleading undertone. He reaches forward to stroke your hair from your face. "You're so needy," he scolds, "but don't worry, I'll take care of you."

With that, he pulls out until just the head of his cock is still trapped in your cunt, and then drives himself forward roughly. Your limp body bounces back at the force of his thrust, your tits jiggling slightly with each of his movements, a sight he adores. He lets his fingers circle your clit again, can feel the way your cunt immediately clamps down around him in response, as though you're trying to draw him even deeper, and he gladly obliges you, slamming himself as deep as possible every time. You whimper more loudly than you have yet, and he can just make out your eyes trying vainly to flutter open, never quite succeeding.

"You take me so well," he pants, the feel of your slick walls gripping his cock so tightly has his balls tightening again, and he slows a little, trying to prolong the inevitable, not ready to be done with your sweet pussy just yet. He leans forward clumsily latch his mouth around one of those erect nipples, sucking and nibbling, noting the response brings, you throaty noises coming more quickly, the slight twitches of your hips growing more violent.

"So well," he murmurs again. No one's been this responsive before; he's lucky, honestly, if he can ever coax his patients to orgasm, but your cunt is flooded, obviously ready to cum for him, and it's enough that he loses the last of his restraint, rolling his hips furiously, railing against your cervix with every thrust in a way that's sure to leave you aching once you're fully aware again, but he can't bring himself to care. He wants to feel your release, feel you gripping his cock more tightly if such a thing is possible, and wants to fill you up with his seed.

"Are you going to be good and cum for me?" he asks breathily, and after another minute your body answers his question, your cunt clamping down, a quiet, high-pitched whine issuing from your throat as you hole constricts. Another few stuttering thrusts and his own cock is spasming, pleasant throbs radiating through his core as he drives into you one last time and cums, swearing at the almost unbearable tightness of your cunt around him.

For a moment he remains buried there, relishing the last throes of your orgasms and the way you're still occasionally pulsing around him. When he pulls out, he frowns at the distasteful mess his cum makes as it leaks out of your gaping hole, but it's accompanied by a shiver of satisfaction at the evidence of how he's claimed you for himself. Still, he moves on almost immediately to cleaning up, slipping on a fresh pair of nitrile gloves and tucking himself back into his pants before digging out a handful of papery dental bibs and using them to clean away the mess he's left between your thighs. Of course, there's nothing he can do about the evidence he's left deep inside, but even that he still finds titillating, the thought of his cum dripping out of you even after you've left, of your cute, confused face as you try to understand.

You barely stir as he goes about this process, only occasionally shifting slightly or mumbling a little, and by the time he's replaced your clothes you're lying still, the tiniest frown is on your lips. It's almost as though you know your time together is coming to an end, and you don't want to go. Chisaki glances from you to the needle in your arm, and the still half-full bag of Propofol suspended from the IV stand. Now that he thinks about it, he supposes there's no real reason to rush you out of there.

"Hari," he calls out, and he's unsurprised when the door to the exam room opens almost immediately, knows how Kurono likes to listen. The other man looks at him questioningly, gaze flicking between Kai and your sedated form reclining in the chair.

"Yes, Kai?" he asks, raising on pale eyebrow.

Chisaki smiles behind his mask. "Cancel the rest of my appointments for the day."

#chisaki x reader #chisaki kai x reader #chisaki x you #bnha fanfic #chisaki kai #cw: noncon #tw: noncon

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dreamii-yume · 4 years

Note

Would it be possible to have a chapter dedicated to Vil creating a poison to temporarily immobilize the reader so he can use them as a doll and fuck them however he wants to and however much he wants to~? Bonus points if he goes the extra mile and even dresses them up and does their make up like a pretty doll... I just. Mm. Can't get Vil and dollification out of my mind and I LOVE your writing!

Oh, gosh...Here we go! I hope I don't disappoint! ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ but honestly, im not proud of this at all so...

♥︎ Warnings ♥︎

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

One kiss and they lived happily ever after just like that? Vil had always thought that something as half-assed as that is simpy unacceptable, just plain lazy writing in his opinion. If a romantic fairytale is what the world had wanted all this time, his love story with his Darling would’ve been better. Maybe then the world would know what it’s really like to live in a happy ending.

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

It all started with a sip.

One sip of a seemingly harmless tea was all it took to ruin your life.

Your balance was the first to be cut off, allowing you to stumble upon your own feet and knocking the most authentic utensils off the table. You once tried to hold yourself from falling completely but even your arms had given up on trying to work. You landed on the ground with a rough thud, your heart was beating so fast in your ribcage whilst your brain was desperately processing for a reasonable explanation. You were left in cold sweat, unable to move anything aside from a few twitches here and there, even turning your head was a challenge. With your bodily functions suddenly falling so useless like this, you naturally panicked as a batch of heavy breathing escaped you.

A feeling of dread went up your spine, a poisoned tea was not the first thing that came into your mind during all of this, it didn't taste any different than the usual, and the aroma was as inviting as ever.

It was only when you heard the haunting clicks of someone's heel heading towards you that you noticed something very strange. His slender legs blocked your vision and you almost strained your neck just by glancing up at him, sweat dripping down your forehead from the tenacious effort. "V-Vil-san..." You called out his name, your friend's name. God, even your throat is uncooperative with your commands, merely speaking feels as if a thousand needles were all simultaneously poking your vocal cords open.

But really, you still find it very strange, especially now that he's looking down upon you so apathetically like this. Despite the fact that your body is clearly suffering from something that you have yet to find out, Vil seems to be awfully calm about all of this. "H...Help, please...!" But even with that suspicious trait, you still called out for him, who else could you turn to at this desperate moment? He was really the only one capable of doing so as of now.

Surprisingly, he did reach for your aching hands, clasping his smooth ones over yours as delicately as possible. "Are you familiar with the tale of the Princess who danced with Death upon eating a Poisoned Apple?" You couldn't help but be lost at what Vil had suddenly asked of you. He pulled your body up from the ground, until you were in his arms, embracing you by the waist since your legs have been practically rendered useless. "...But because of a Prince who fell in Love with her at First Sight, she was saved."

Vil sat you back down on the chair that you once resided in just a few minutes ago, watching as your body slumped down without any support. He placed your hands properly on the armchair, so that it doesn't limp on your sides. "How? You might ask. By a True Love's Kiss, of course." He said with what looks like to be a smile from your angle, you couldn't move your head to adjust your view of him anymore so you had to make use of what you can see for now. "What do you think of it? It's the perfect romantic story to tell the children, isn't it?"

Vil tucked a stubborn strand of hair behind your ear before holding your head up by the chin. There, your twitching eyes finally had a good look at his handsome features, looking down upon you with an unfamiliar emotion swirling in his eyes. "...But I always hated that ridiculous story." He confessed with a sigh, you could only stare up at him with widened eyes, wondering where he's trying to get at. "The Princess was just a naive little girl and the Prince was stupid enough as it is. Even as a child, my opinions never changed about it."

Then, you saw his other hand reaching for the unfinished tea you were drinking earlier from your peripheral vision, a spark of distress had suddenly come down upon you. With widened eyes, you glanced at Vil in hopes of finding out what he was going to do but you were met with nothing but a disturbing smile on his lips. "But doesn't it resemble you a bit?" He suddenly said, finally shifting his attention to you.

"Eh...?" You breath out, lips quavering as your body twitched in response. "What do you-"

"A naive child who writhes on the hands of the friend she thought she had upon drinking a cup of tea that she didn't know was tampered with." You widened your eyes as everything just slowly clicked by that single, meaningful sentence. Then, you gasped as Vil placed the rim of the teacup on top of your lips, the mesmerizing swirling liquid of the tea now looked so deadly when you took in consideration on its true purpose. "Similar, yes...Except for the fact that you don't have a Charming Prince that will come and save you."

"You only have me." His haunting words was left echoing in your mind as he opened your mouth and forced down the remaining liquid inside.

"M-Mmgh...! Aa...!" Gurgled sounds came out of you as warm tea flows down your throat, almost choking you in the process. Vil's hands was firmly locked onto your jaw, not allowing you to close them until he made sure that you have swallowed the drink until its very last drop. His nails were digging onto your cheeks, causing tears to escape your eyes whilst your lips quaver, a line of liquid escaping in the sides of your mouth had already dripped down and stained your cloth.

With a final gulp, Vil finally released you from his grasp, allowing your weak body to fall limp on the chair. The beautiful antagonist before you had crouched down to your eye level, carefully wiping your mouth with a clean handkerchief. "...If you think about it that way, doesn't your version of the story sound better?" He asked, but it was clear that he wasn't expecting any answers from you at all, not that you have any at the moment. "It's much more realistic and we can sweat about the tiniest little details."

Vil grabbed your body once again, resting your head on his shoulder before taking a hold of your legs. He neatly picked you in a bridal manner, gracefully turning around to transport you in a place that you can't quite see. "Come now, my Little Doll. Let's get you all dressed up." He said with a satisfied smile decorating his handsome face, as if he wasn't holding your shivering body against his arms. "After that, we'll talk and we'll play. Let's create a beautiful story for ourselves, much better than the ones out there."

"I wonder what kind of happy ending we'll get." With his heels resounding against the empty hallways of the elegant Pomefiore Dorm, Vil lovingly nuzzled against your cold cheeks, ignoring how your skin practically shies away from his touch, creating goosebumps as protection. He then stared dreamily at nothing, as if he was getting his creative side of brain to work. "But let's start from the beginning..."

"Hm...Let's see..."

♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎♥︎

Continue the Spice~?

Don't mind me, I'm just waiting for the day that the rest of chapter five comes up with Vil's official backstory and COMPLETELY debunks everything that I said in here ha h a

can i just mention how much i love writing for Vil? Yeah, that's it. Thank you for coming to Yume's ted talk-

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #vil schoenheit #yandere vil schoenheit #yandere #pomefiore #sinfic #spicy dream

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halfway-happyyy · 4 years

Text

The Autumn Cottage

Happy Saturday friends! Autumn has arrived in full force where I live and I couldn’t be happier about it. To celebrate, I have written a sappy, smutty piece inspired by the current weather and this ask that I received: Can u give us a oneshot about a snuggle fuck w alex in a cozy cottage in the fall?

One of the greater joys in her life had to have been waking up to autumn's fickle fingers trying to desperately to reach her from the comfort of her woolen blanket. She watched, sleepy and bleary-eyed as leaves in shades of crimson and burnt umber drifted past her window in no particular direction. Her fingers roamed over the left side of the bed in search of him. Alexander's silhouette was barely visible through the indigo morning light, though she could make out the prominent line of his nose, and the slight curve of his bottom lip. Unmistakable in the minimal glow of dawn was the familiar glitter in his eyes, the glint that said so much about him and then nothing at all in equal measure.

“Good morning.” She whispered, and even that felt like too mighty of a disturbance in the stillness of their bedroom in the cottage. Though if he minded, he never let it show.

“Good morning yourself, kid.”

She reached the tip of a finger towards him wordlessly and brushed a feather-light touch down the bridge of his nose. Moving lower, she outlined his lips and grinned into the air before her as she felt him smile against her touch. She moved around his face with care, tried to memorize each delicate crease and wrinkle in her wake, tried to commit to memory the aspects that he resented about himself, even if she loved them beyond measure.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured as he brought the back her wrist to his lips, kissing the soft flesh there passionately. He brushed the pad of a calloused thumb over the rounded curve of her warmed cheek. “Like watching a flower bloom right before my very eyes.” They stayed like that for longer than either of them cared to admit; she could count on one hand in the past year that she had spent a weekend with him like this- alone and entirely undisturbed from anything and everything. He had broached the subject of a rented cottage in passing one morning a few weeks ago. It was one of those mornings where something had gone awry at every turn, and everything had been a blur. He had been late for something important, that much she could remember. He had rushed around the kitchen in a fury, muted Swedish curse words coloured every second sentence. He was out of breath when he reached the front door, weighed down by his leather laptop bag, but before he left, he turned to her and smiled. “Let’s get away together, kid.” She had taken it with a grain of salt until he returned home that evening, tired from a rather long shooting schedule, but in a fantastic mood all the same. “I mean it. It’s about to be a beautiful autumn. Let’s get away, just the two of us.”

“Shall I make you a coffee, or are we just going to lay in bed and stare at each other all day?” She offered him a cheeky smile and an exaggerated eye-wiggle which he simply laughed at.

“I have half a mind to choose the latter option, but I really do need some caffeine this morning.”

She nodded finitely and leaned in for a kiss, the innate push and pull of it caused a fire to ignite deep within her for him. She could easily spend the rest of her life doing this very thing; loving him fiercely and being loved back just as hard in return. “Alright,” She gasped as she pulled away from the allure of his hot, wet mouth. “Meet me in the kitchen.” She rose from the bed silently and padded over to her suitcase that was propped up on a wicker chair in the corner of the room. She noticed Alexander’s cream Sherpa sweater hanging over the arm of it and she ran a fingertip over the unbelievably soft material.

Alexander must have been watching her because when he spoke, his voice still gravelly from recent sleep, he startled her. “I’d be happy if you wore that, today.”

“You would?” She had been eyeing it ever since he’d brought it home from a shoot a month ago. She longed to wrap it around her frame, the sheer feeling of it luxe and utterly comforting on her bare skin. Especially as the months would inevitably grow colder.

“Watching you wear my clothing does something for me, kid. I love seeing how happy it makes you.”

With a small smile, she lifted the sweater over her head and let it fall into place on her body, the hem of it falling just above her knee. She pulled her hair from the confines of it and let it fall in waves down her back. “How do I look?” She asked.

“Beautiful,” Alexander murmured.

Satisfied with his answer, she made her way down the hardwood-floored hallway to the kitchen. She had thought at first that the silence of the cottage would be too loud; that city life had turned her into a creature who thought she craved noise on a near-constant level. But to her pleasant surprise, it had taken less than twenty-four hours to grow accustomed to it, and she knew now that she would miss it dearly when it was their time to go home. Eliciting a yawn, she stood on tiptoes and tried to remember which cupboard Alexander had hidden the coffee beans. Without warning, a large hand reached up above her head with ease and produced the bag for her with a sly smile. “I’d have found them eventually…” She muttered.

“Oh, I have no doubt of that. But- would you have been able to reach them?”

She shook her head and let out a small laugh. “Cheeky, vertically-adept bastard.”

They made their coffee together in silence. It had been one of the many things that drew him to her in the beginning. Where conversation seemed forced with every prospective partner and lover in the past- everything flowed the way it was supposed to with Alexander. There had never been a need to fill the quiet with empty words and small talk. It was a wonderful change of pace. “You hungry yet, kid?”

She remembered the basket of farm-fresh eggs in the fridge, thought of the loaf of homemade bread next to the coffee machine and her mouth watered tantalizingly. “I could definitely eat.” She watched him move around the kitchen with ease; watched the way his worn sweatpants hung low from the edges of his hips. She watched the way his muscles flexed in the light pouring in through the stained-glass window above the sink. She had always been struck silly by the beauty that this man possessed; but the notion that his soul bested his looks would never cease to leave her in utter awe. “What have you got on the go today?” She asked, a fork full of fluffy scrambled eggs rested in her hand.

Alexander passed a napkin over his lips, swallowed the bite of food in his mouth and shrugged. “Thought I might chop some wood for a fire tonight.”

She could hardly contemplate it now; the thought of watching her man hulk through multiple logs of wood caused her to physically clench her thighs together. “You plan on doing that soon?”

“After breakfast.” He confirmed.

True to his word, after the last dish had been washed and dried and properly put away, he stalked over to the coat hook in the front foyer and threw a sweater over his naked chest. Turning to her, he eyed her up and down and cocked his head to the side; a small smirk pulled at the edges of his lips. “Care to keep me company?”

Reaching for a blanket and the book that she had started yesterday morning, she nodded her head. “Lead the way.”

It was warmer outside than she had originally anticipated, though the autumn wind had picked up a little more voraciously, and she marveled at the falling leaves the same way she had earlier that morning. The sky above her was cloudless and a bright azure blue and she found herself thanking a higher being for the blessings in which she had been given. Opening the book to the page she had last left off on, the sound of an axe ripping through the middle of a log rang out through the clearing and she knew then that she would not be getting any further reading done this morning. Instead, she watched in awe as Alexander lifted the axe high above his head and brought it down with a force she had rarely seen before, the log splitting into two pieces and falling away from the stump. It was poetry in motion, really. Alexander’s hair was the longest she had ever seen it; the sandy blonde tresses were grown out and regularly fell over his eyes but she reveled in it. Of the many years that they had known each other, he had always kept a mostly clean-shaven face but quarantine, and the filming of a particularly brutal Viking revenge drama had rendered him more manlier and distinguished than she had ever thought possible. “You are fulfilling lumberjack fantasies for me that I never knew I had!” She called out to him.

Alexander tossed his head back, a hearty laughter bubbled up from the back of his throat and exited his mouth like music from a box. “You can lie to me, but you can’t lie to yourself, kid. I see the way you look at me when I put on my old and holey plaid jacket.” He took a break from chopping wood to wipe the sweat from his brow. “To add to this- you also purchased me a very expensive axe a few years ago for my birthday.”

“Guilty,” She muttered under her breath.

“But rest assured I am elated that this-” He gestured to himself. “Does it for you.”

The morning continued on in much the same fashion until maybe an hour or two later when Alexander joined her from her perch on the wrap-around porch. Falling into a bench opposite her, he took a few moments to try and regain his breath again. Beads of sweat gathered at the base of his forehead and his broad chest heaved under the weight of recent physical duress. They each viewed each other with a hunger usually only attained after seeing one another for the first time in months. “Come here.” He ordered, softly. She rose from her spot without hesitation and sauntered over to where he sat. He pat the front of his thigh twice, a silent instruction for her to have a seat. She straddled his lap with ease and wrapped her arms around his neck; the heady scent of his perspiration and body wash made her lightheaded with want. It took every ounce of self-control not to grind shamelessly down on his steadily growing erection. As he held her tightly to him, his warm, broad hands rubbed reassuring circles into her back. She shivered into the touch as Alexander kissed his way up the side of her neck, his mouth leaving trails of fire in its wake. “You cold, kid?”

“No.”

He kissed his way up the base of her throat, past the jutting outline of her jaw, and finally to her lips. His mouth still tasted faintly of the maple syrup he had poured over his pancakes hours earlier and the urge to devour everything he had to give her was overwhelming. “You like me like this, don’t you?” He smirked. “All sweaty and dirty from working hard and chopping wood for us?”

“Yes.” Her eyes slid shut and her head fell back as he continued kissing and sucking at the sensitive skin at the base of her throat. All the while his hands roamed greedily over her sweater-clad body, squeezing, and rubbing as they traversed.

“You want me to take you right here, baby girl?” His voice grew gravelly again, though it had nothing to do with sleep this time. “I don’t even have to touch you to know that you’re already soaked for me.” The wind had picked up again and had begun to blow her hair around her face, the cool breeze a welcome reprieve to her heated body. Alexander was fully erect now, his hard cock throbbed tantalizingly at her thigh. She sucked her bottom lip between her teeth and lifted the hem of the sweater to reveal her panties, and the wet patch that had grown steadily in the crotch of them. Alexander reached for her and slid two fingers past the flimsy material to her soaking folds. Immediately she leaned towards him to tuck her face into the crook of his neck, but he stopped her with a soft click of his tongue. “I want to see your face when you come for me, baby.” He brought a free hand up to caress her cheek, and as he held her, he brushed a thumb over her bottom lip. She parted for him without thought and began to suckle softly at it as his other hand started to delve deeper inside of her. He had perfected a rhythm with her now; one that no matter how many times he had pleasured her, would always be the fastest way to get her unravelling for him.

“More,” She gasped when two fingers just wasn’t enough anymore. Alexander nodded wordlessly, his gaze searching her own. He added a third finger inside of her, the stretch of it almost too much to bear.

“So fucking wet for me, baby.” He groaned, as he began to pump harder into her. He could feel her clench around him, could feel the soft, wet button of pleasure at the tips of his fingers. She sucked harder at his thumb the closer she neared to her orgasm. “You’re going to come for me soon, I can tell…” He murmured as she started to ride his fingers. “And don’t you dare be quiet about it.” He warned.

These words had helped to spur the wave of pleasure building in her belly and she arched her back against his fingers, her nails digging miniscule crescent shapes into the soft skin of his shoulder blades. “Fucking hell, Alex…”

He nodded up at her. “You look so fucking beautiful like this, my queen. That’s a good girl. Come for me,” He then angled his fingers in such a way that he had her screaming his name into the wind before them, her voice raw with unbridled pleasure. She continued to ride his fingers until she came down from her high, dropping her head to rest in the warm comfort of his neck. She couldn’t be sure how long she had taken solace there, but he eventually patted her bottom. “You came so good for me.” He pressed warm, wet kisses against her temple.

Taking his chin firmly in her grasp, she gazed at him. Unending vast oceans of blue peered back at her and took her breath away. “It’s your turn.” She crashed her lips against his again, the need to have him inside of her entirely all-consuming. He lifted her up in one fell swoop, standing tall from the bench as she wrapped her legs around his waist to keep from falling. He carried her into the warmth of the cottage, stumbling down the length of the hallway to their bedroom where he laid her as gently as he could manage, on the bed. He made impressively quick time of ridding himself of his clothing, and as he stood before her, naked and unbearably erect, she realized that she genuinely loved the man before her. It had occurred to her before that she felt this way, but she could honestly say that no matter what they would go through together, no matter the pain he would put her through in future, she loved him deeper than she had ever loved anyone before. “Come here,” She insisted.

Alexander crawled up the length of the bed, holding her head in his hands as he did so. He entered her all-consuming heat with a loud groan, the feeling of him stretching her to maximum fullness was incomparable to any pleasure she had experienced before. Having him inside of her was a comfort that she never knew she needed until it had happened. As he moved inside of her, his head dropped to her shoulder where he scattered dozens of open-mouthed kisses to the skin there. She held him tightly to her as he bucked his hips against her, his cock managing to hit all of the essential nerves each time he bottomed out. He was muttering nonsensical things now, random pieces of Swedish and English found her ears and she smiled into their embrace. She clenched around him after every other thrust, and soon his movements had grown sloppy. “Fuck,” He growled as her fingernails raked through the soft, firm skin of his broad back.

“You feel so fucking good, Alex.” She gasped against his bearded cheek.

He cried out as his hips stilled against her own and she could feel the familiar throb of his cock as he spilled everything he had to give, inside of her. He allowed himself a few more powerless thrusts, and another low whimper before he pulled out of her completely. She found his sudden absence almost painful. They remained like that for an unknowable amount of time, each just trying to catch the breath that they had lost a while ago. Eventually Alexander turned on his side to view her, bringing the back of her hand to his lips and kissing it gently. “I love you, kid.”

A crimson leaf lay next to his head on the down pillow, and she smiled softly to herself. “I love you too, Alex.”

#alexander skarsgard #alexander skarsgard x reader #alexander skarsgard imagine #alexander skarsgard oneshot #smut #writing #drabble

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babytsum · 3 years

Text

like you hate me (s. kiyoomi)

you and kiyoomi don't really get along.

word count: 1.3k

warnings: nsfw, smut, sub!sakusa, car sex, overstim, dacryphilia, impact play (getting slapped in the face), the tip?? idk if that's a warning, super unorganized plot? there's a gap between the two parts, unedited

"i just don't see why you two can't get along."

atsumu sat across from you, his tie slightly loosened, his blazer gone, and hair slightly messy. it was typical, he couldn't last more than an hour in formal clothing. you gave him a blank stare back while you downed a glass of wine. it left a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was the only tolerable liquor available.

"i mean both of you hate me, but you love me," he continued as you tried to suppress your giggles, "you're pretty clean. i just don't get it at all."

you took a peak at his dark curly haired teammate. hinata and bokuto had always been welcoming and warm towards you, often appreciating the extra snacks you made when visiting atsumu. sakusa on the other hand, well, he was cold.

and it had been like that since high school.

komori was always a friendly face you looked forward to seeing every year at nationals. he was kind, never failing to make friendly post game conversations with you and atsumu. of course, he always had a dark cloud trailing behind him. one that was in the form of a certain curly haired spiker. of course, atsumu's annoyingly warm personality still penetrated the walls sakusa built.

you just didn't understand what you did to deserve his blunt, snarky remarks. the amount of times you've had to make it clear that you weren't flirting with komori annoyed you to no end and his attitude towards your touchy relationship with your friends was unnecessary. it's not like you ever tried to get near him anyways.

"i don't know, tsumu," you looked back at the faux blonde in front of you, "he just always has this nasty attitude towards me."

"you're not special." he mumbled with a frown.

you reached over to fluff up your 'date's' hair while he closed his eyes and laid his head against his arm. both of you reminisced about high school, recalling osamu's schoolboy crush on you and suna's fight videos. as more people left the venue, you two eventually had louder conversations, talking about anything and everything.

the dark cloud came nearer to the both of you, atsumu greeting him with a smile while his stoic expression remained unchanged. his mask was long gone, the venue nearly empty except for a few remaining people.

"we still have practice tomorrow, atsumu."

"i know, i know."

"you can't stay late and fuck around with (y/n), alright? don't waste your time."

your fists clenched as you resisted to the urge to not punch sakusa then and there.

"well, maybe he does want to fuck around once in awhile right, tsumu?"

he nodded out of nervousness and fear for your next move.

"good."

"you're fucking filthy."

"you're the one who pulled me in here, you dick!"

his hand harshly connected with your face and you gasped at the sudden stinging pain. there was no fucking way this fucker slapped you.

"what the fuck is your problem?"

you pushed sakusa away from you, his head hitting the ceiling of the car that was barely able to fit him. he's shocked, you can tell by the way his eyes widen right before you grab his throat, squeezing the sides of his neck.

"sit properly."

he obeys your request, readjusting himself until he was comfortable in the backseat. you sit yourself on his lap, his face inches away from yours, maintaining your grip on the sides of his neck. he's silent, eyes glazed over.

"open you mouth, you bitch."

sakusa obliges and a glob of saliva spills from your lips onto his tongue. he's frozen, the action rendering him speechless. in his head, it was always his saliva tainting your cute little mouth, it was always his harsh words, his hands around your neck.

"i-i'm sorry."

"sorry about what, kiyo?" you asked innocently, a fake pout on your lips, "sorry about ruining my date with tsumu?"

"y-yes."

"are you that fucking pathetic, huh?"

you squeeze tighter, his cock noticeably straining against the fabric of his pants. you let go and he sighs in relief as you free his cock. it slaps against his slightly exposed belly and he's long, thick, and the tip is already drooling. you could let him fuck you until you couldn't speak. you could take his length into your mouth. you could take him inside your aching pussy.

or not.

"don't even think about fucking moving, kiyo. i'll leave you here if you do."

you opt to sink down until the tip of his cock is just barely inside. the movement of your hips is languid, enough for your oversensitive cunt, but not quite enough for sakusa. he wants to fill you up, have you under him and begging for him to fuck you until you can't walk. he wants to grab your waist, force you up and down his cock almost as if you were a toy. and he tries, he grabs your waist and he sinks your body down onto his fat cock with no time to stretch you out. despite the arousal that stained your panties earlier, you're still painfully tight.

"what the fuck did i say, kiyo?"

he holds his head low, slightly ashamed. all he wanted to do was fill you up, make you feel good. of course, he had to ruin it.

"you said no moving."

"and what did you do?"

"i moved," this time, it's him looking down at you with dark eyes, "what are you gonna do about it?"

the smirk that's plastered on sakusa's face only enrages you even more, but it's wiped away when your hand connects with his cheek.

sakusa flushes red in embarrassment when you line yourself up with his length and he lets out a painful groan. you're so close and he's already coated in your juices. he wanted more, wanted to feel your velvet pussy clamping around him.

"only the tip, you brat."

fuck.

he needed to cum. you can tell by the way his face drops at your command, but sakusa should have enough self control by now. your knees are on either side of his lap and they hurt, they hurt so much, but it was worth it to see him like this.

he thrusts upwards, the oversensitive tip rubbing against your aching cunny. he's desperate, you can tell from the pace he sets, the whines that leave his lips, and though you'd much rather prefer to have him inside you, tears are spilling from his eyes.

"you look so much prettier when you're crying, kiyo."

you look down and white cum drips from the tip of his cock. when you look back at him, his eyes are glossy, his cheeks are rosy, and his face is contorted in concentration. he wants to cum. he needs to cum.

kiyoomi's cock twitches and you can tell he's close.

"please."

you know exactly what he wants. without warning, you sink down as he paints your insides white. another groan leaves his mouth, but you're not about to leave this car without satisfying yourself.

so you bounce on his oversensitive cock, maintaining a fast pace as he stretches you out nicely. your lips meet his neck, sucking until a purple bruise forms. at this point, tears are pouring from his and he's whimpering.

"shut up, bitch."

you grab the sides of kiyoomi's throat once again until you can hear the heavy inhales he makes through his nose. he doesn't think he can cum again, but you're gushing all over him. his fingers play with your clit and you clamp down tighter around him, his throbbing cock almost being crushed by your walls.

lewd sounds of your creamy cunt fill the car as you fasten your pace, desperately chasing your high. your tight cunny is sucking him and he can't do anything about it. you're clenching hard, milking him for all he's worth and he lets out a pretty sob.

you slump down on his chest, his cock still inside you. his head is thrown back, eyes closed, and you leave a small kiss at the corner of his lips.

"good boy."

#sakusa kiyoomi x reader #kiyoomi sakusa x reader #sakusa x reader #sakusa kiyoomi imagine #kiyoomi sakusa imagine #sakusa imagine #sakusa kiyoomi smut #sakusa kiyoomi scenarios #kiyoomi sakusa smut #sakusa x y/n #sakusa x you #sakusa smut #🍓.horny #🍓.writes

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storiesforallfandoms · 5 years

Text

remember me ~ machine gun kelly

word count: 2174

request?: yes

@xxkellsvixen19xx “A request for Colson Baker x Reader fic where shortly after they are married (few months) she’s in a car accident with amnesia and he helps her remember that plus that she’s pregnant (which is shortly before that happens but she had forgotten) please and thank you”

description: in which colson must help his wife remember who he is

pairing: machine gun kelly x female!reader

warnings: swearing, some sadness

Colson raced down the hallway of the hospital. His shoes weren’t even properly tied, his coat was half off, and he realized upon getting out of the car he realized he hadn’t even taken his wallet. When he received the call, he raced out of the house in a flash and got to the hospital so fast that the car ride was all a blur.

He walked up to the first desk he could find, trying to find his voice.

“I-I need to-to know where (Y/N) Baker is,” he stuttered.

“What’s your relation to Mrs. Baker?” the woman at the desk asked.

“I’m her husband,” Colson responded, flashing his ring as if that were the evidence the woman needed. “I’m Colson Baker, I was talking to someone like 20 minutes ago. He said my wife was brought in after a bad car accident, but he wouldn’t give me any more details over the phone. Please, I need to see her.”

The woman pointed Colson to where (Y/N)’s room was. He mumbled a quick thank you and raced down the hallway. As he approached the door, a doctor was walking out. The doctor put his hands out to stop Colson.

“Are you Mr. Baker?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fucking Mr. Baker. Can I see my goddamn wife?” Colson snapped.

“Mr. Baker, I understand that this is a very emotional time, but I need to give tell you what happened to your wife before you go in there,” the doctor explained. Tears were pricking Colson’s eyes. He wiped them away and nodded, not trusting his own voice to speak. “Your wife was in a serious car accident, Mr. Baker. A driver blew a stop sign as she was driving through and t-boned her on the driver’s side. The impact was pretty severe, she hit her head off the window and was rendered unconscious at the scene. Luckily, the paramedics got to the scene very quickly and managed to get to her before any permanent damage could be done...however...”

“However?” Colson prompted.

“She may have some brain damage,” the doctor finished. “Her brain has some swelling, however that should go down by the time she wakes up but we can’t promise that there won’t be any side effects to that.”

“Side effects like what?” Colson asked.

“She may have some speech problems, she may have to learn basic motor functions again, and she may have some memory loss. We cannot tell you how far back the memory loss could effect, but I wanted to warn you in case it’s as far back as your wedding. I’ve seen many a brain damage victims wake up and not remember their loved ones and how hard that is for the loved ones. I try to give a warning in case.”

Colson nodded, although the thought of his loving wife waking up and forgetting him tore his heart out.

“We just found out she was pregnant,” Colson said. “Like just found out maybe a week ago. Do you guys know if the baby is okay?”

“We can do some testing to make sure,” the doctor said. “We’ll let you know as soon as the results came back.” The doctor stepped aside. “You may go see her, but please try to keep as calm as you can. Even unconscious she’ll be able to sense your presence and it’s best for her recovering to remain as calm as you can.”

Colson nodded again. He tried to take a deep breath and pull himself together, but he found it incredibly hard. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he walked through the door, but he knew he wanted to see her. He knew he had to.

When he opened the door he couldn’t help but suck in a breath. Laying there on the hospital bed was his beautiful wife, so pale he was afraid she was lifeless, with a large scar on the side of her head, where she had hit the window and needed to be stitched back up. Colson crossed the room to sit at the chair next to her bed. He reached out and took one of her cold hands in his and squeezed it slightly.

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispered. “I’m gonna stay here till you wake up.”

~~~~~~

One painful week later, things were starting to look up. (Y/N)’s injuries were starting to heal and she was beginning to look like herself again. But she was still asleep. The doctor assured Colson that that was a good thing as it gave her body time to rest and recuperate.

Colson kept true to his word and stayed right in the chair next to her bed, waiting patiently for her to wake up. He cancelled any interviews and shows he had and had to tell Cassie, who was in a frenzy of her own, that he would come to get her as soon as (Y/N) woke up. The only times he moved from the chair were to get a shower, and even then he only went as far as the bathroom attached to (Y/N)’s hospital room.

He stepped out of the bathroom one day, fresh from a shower wearing clean clothes that Rook had brought for him, his hair still dripping wet, to find his wife lying in the hospital bed with her eyes open.

He wasn’t entirely sure what to do. He wanted to rush to her and hug her tightly, to kiss her and tell her how happy he was that she was awake, but he knew that he still couldn’t overwhelm her too much. He wasn’t sure how much her brain still needed to heal, plus he didn’t want to overwhelm her too much when she was just awake.

“(Y/N),” he finally said, as calmly as he could. “You’re awake.”

“Where am I?” she asked.

“You’re in a hospital,” Colson explained, sitting himself down next to her again. “You were in a serious accident about a week ago. You had a bit of brain damage and you were bleeding a lot, you’ve been recovering very quickly though, and the doctors say that’s great.”

She nodded, although she still looks lost. “And...and who are you?”

The words he had been dreading all week. Hearing them felt like a knife through his heart. He tried to keep back the tears that were threatening to fall down his face. “I’m - uh - I’m your husband, Colson.”

Her eyes widened and she looked down at the ring on her left ring finger. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I...I don’t remember...oh God I feel awful.”

“No, don't apologize,” Colson said, taking her hand in his. “I was warned that a bit of memory loss was a possibility. It’s okay, I’m willing to try and help you remember.”

(Y/N) nodded. She opened her mouth to say something else when a knock came at the door and the doctor came in. He smiled at (Y/N). “Well, look who’s awake. How do you feel, Mrs. Baker?”

“Confused,” she responded, causing Colson to chuckle.

“That was a possibility,” the doctor said with a nod. “Listen, we can do this in your own time, but we did tell your husband that once you were awake and ready that we needed to do another test on you to check on the health of your baby.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened as she looked back at Colson. “I’m pregnant? I’ve always wanted to be a mom.”

Colson smiled. “We only found out a week ago. You found out then you planned out this elaborate way to tell me, you even set up a camera to film it, but you were so excited that you just blurted it out the minute I walked through the door. I have the video still if you want to see it.”

Tears were starting to form in (Y/N)’s eyes and Colson could see the sadness and frustration starting to grow in her face. “Yeah, yeah I’d love to see it. But I um...I think I should do this testing first. Even if I don’t remember it, I want this baby to be okay.”

~~~~~~

Another week later, (Y/N) was discharged to go home on the condition that she continued to get a lot of bed rest. After a few tests at the hospital, the doctors confirmed that the baby was okay and was still very healthy, but advised her to get regular monthly check ups in order to make sure the baby remained healthy.

On the drive home, she watched the video on Colson’s phone of her telling him that she was pregnant. She kept replaying the video, as if hoping that re-watching it would jog her memories of the event. But Colson could tell that the video was just making her more sad that she forgot it.

“Who’s Cassie?” she asked as she listened to the old her on the video announce, “Cassie’s gonna be a big sister!”

“That’s my daughter,” Colson responded. “Your step-daughter. She adores you, and you her. You guys are basically inseparable. She’s been worried sick about you.”

(Y/N) finally locked the phone and passed it back to Colson. “I don’t even remember who she is.”

“I know,” Colson sighed. “But I’ll help you to remember. The doctor said pictures and videos should help jog your memory, and we have plenty of those.”

Upon stepping into the house, (Y/N) was met with dozens of memories of herself and Colson and Cassie. There were pictures on the wall of Colson and (Y/N) on their wedding day, pictures lining the tables of different memories; their first date, their first award show red carpet, pictures of the three of them at Disney together. (Y/N) walked through the house, taking in every piece of it in hopes it would jog her memory of something.

“What are these awards?” she questioned, pointing some of Colson’s music awards that he had on display. “You’re famous?”

“Don’t tell me you forget that far back,” Colson said with a teasing smile. “I’m a rapper and an actor. That’s how we met, you got tickets to an award show and we got to talking on the red carpet. You gave me your number.”

(Y/N)’s eyes lit up. “Wait, yes! Okay, that sounds familiar. I saved up for months to try and get to this award show that was being held in my hometown. I went with my best friend, she freaked out when you walked down the red carpet because she was such a fan. She was so jealous when you flirted with me, even more so when I gave you my number and you actually responded.”

Colson chuckled. “Yeah, she won’t let either of us live that down. She even made it a whole story in her Maid of Honor speech.”

“That makes sense,” (Y/N) said, nodding. “I...I kind of remember some of these things. I have some blurs of the scenery around the picture, but I can’t see any faces or remember exactly where or what happened.”

“That’s okay,” Colson told her. “The doctors said it’ll take some time, but don’t strain yourself or you could really hurt your head more.”

(Y/N) nodded. Tears started to form in her eyes again as she sat down on her and Colson’s shared bed, another place she couldn’t even remember. Colson was quick to sit by her side as she began to sob into her hands. He rubbed her back soothingly, assuring her everything would be okay.

“I’m sorry,” she said through tears. “I’m really sorry for all of this. I feel awful, we have all these memories and we’re married and we’re having a fucking baby! And I can’t remember any of it! I feel so awful.”

“Hey, stop that,” Colson told her. “None of this is your fault, it’s the fault of the asshole who decided they wanted to run a stop sign. We’re going to get your memories back, I promise. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here through every step of the process, as long as you want me here.”

(Y/N) looked at Colson. He took her hand in his and gave it a reassuring squeeze. She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his, taking him by surprise. Despite not remembering any of their past kisses, (Y/N) kissed him so naturally. He expected it to be a while before she felt comfortable enough to even want to stay in the same bed as him.

When she pulled away, she smiled at Colson. “I may not remember much of our relationship, but I do know that I love you. I know that you’re the father of my child, and you’re the love of my life. If there’s anyone I want to be by my side while I regain my memories, it’s definitely you.”

Colson smiled back at her. “Well then I promise to stay forever.”

I hope you enjoyed your imagine! For anyone who is also reading my “Not So Bad” series (not the official title just yet, I don’t really have one right now) and you want to be tagged in it, just let me know in the notes of that imagine and I’ll tag you in part two! (Which hopefully will be up by Saturday at the latest)

#machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #machine gun kelly x reader #colson baker #colson baker imagine #colson baker x reader #imagine #request #estxx #mgk

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womanoflettersinthebunker · 4 years

Text

After the whole experience that ended with three hunters dead, with her leaving the bodies for him to clean up.

He didn't mind, at this point in his hunting career he knew how to stay out of sight of the public and how to properly dispose of any kind of bodies. It gave him something to focus on other than the clenched feeling inside of his chest.

He had no idea how to contact her, didn't have her or the boys phone number, so that meant either they'd run into each other or hope that she would come search for him.

In all honesty, he didn't have much hope that she would do so. All he could do is wait and see.

So, he settled back to doing whatever it was that he did best. He took on small hunting jobs here and there, drifted from town to town, almost on autopilot.

Thankfully, he didn't run into any other hunters; he wasn't sure what their reactions to him would be. He had no idea of knowing what Bobby would say to others, if he told anything at all. He knew that Ellen and Bills fates would be told, they were well-known enough in the hunting world for people to ask about them once they realized that they were gone. But whether word would get out exactly what had happened to them, he didn't know.

If not Bobby then Jo probably would tell, either out of vengeance or desperation to avenge them. He felt for the girl, a sudden orphan in the worst possible ways, but at the same time...the whole thing was used to bring Mary back to life and that...

That made it hard to really think of it in a bad way, even if the Harvelles souls weren't used in whatever ritual it had been.

There was a sudden hard knock at his motel door and he immediately snapped up to attention, breaking out of whatever thoughts had been going through his head, hand slipping under his pillow to grab the gun he had stashed there. He moved carefully towards the door, pressing into the wall and looking out from the corner of the window. Feeling his stomach swoop slightly he swallowed hard and placed his gun into the back of his pants, opening the door.

Mary stood there, a pissed off expression on her face. She stared at him in silence, hands in her pockets. He couldn't tear his gaze away from her, from the way that her hair fell along her shoulders, how her the green of her eyes stuck out in the moonlight like two gems. She looked ethereal, supernatural in a way that fairies and elves would have been described.

But even then, he could see the darkness clinging to her, could see the edges of her eyes where the darkness of her soul showed the truth of her existence. The scent of sulfur was clinging to the air around her and despite how it used to put him on edge before, now it almost seemed to relax him. Because it was a part of Mary, a part of her. And he wanted to know all of her down to the darkest parts.

He stepped to the side to let her in but she still didn't move, her eyes going to the side where, once he glanced over at it as well, saw the salt lines that he had automatically put up. He reached out and with a swipe of his hand brushed a part of the line off, rendering it useless. The moment he did so, Mary came into the room, taking her jacket off and throwing it to the side.

Her shirt was covered in bloodstains and for a moment John panicked at the sight, calming down slightly when he couldn't see that she was hurt anywhere.

For a moment, he was at a loss of what he should do. Should he offer her something to drink, did he even have anything to offer her to drink other than alcohol? Should he talk to her at all, ask her why she had come to him like this?

Mary seemed to answer it for herself, she went to his duffel bag and pulled out a few articles of clothing, a t-shirt and a pair of boxers, and without saying another word went into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. After a few moments he could hear the water start to run.

John let out a small breath, unsure of how to feel about this. On one hand he was happy that she was here, even like this just to use him and whatever he had. On the other hand, the feeling of being used wasn't a pleasant one.

But for whatever reason, be it a shower and a place to rest, she chose him and that was enough to make him relax just slightly and smile.

It felt like forever before he heard the water turn off, most likely the hot water had run out, before she stepped out, wearing his clothes and her own folded in her hands. She placed it on the chair next to the table and he could see her move her jaw from side to side, could see her chewing on the inside of her cheek.

She always did that when she was thinking hard, he was glad to see that some things hadn’t changed.

Gathering his courage he took a deep breath and finally asked, “Are you okay?”

Mary looked away from his direction at that, turning to stare at the wall instead. It took another few moments before she spoke, “Things...have changed a lot.” her voice was quiet, almost mournful. “It’s been about fourteen years that I’ve been dead. I’ve been trying to get used to everything, catch up on what I’ve missed. It’s just...a lot. It's overwhelming.”

John thought back for a moment about all the changes he could think of that had happened in the last few years, let alone fourteen years, and felt a stab of pity for her.

“Even my boys are different now, that’s to be given, it's been so long.” she continued. “All grown up and ready to be used by Hell. Every time I close my eyes I remember what they used to be, just children, my children.” her hand went to her flat stomach before going to where she had thrown her jacket and rummaged through the pocket, taking out a cell phone that she stared at.

“They gave me this to keep in contact with them.” she said. “And I don’t even really know how. I get the green button, I get the number, but everything else about it I just don’t get. I’ve been trying to call them but...I don’t think I can.”

John slowly crossed over the room to her, reaching for the phone. Her fingers tightened around it for a moment before she let him take it from her. He flipped it open with his thumb and looked it over, taking the symbols on top of the phone. “You have it set on airplane mode.” he told her, pointing at the small black plane on top. “You just need to turn it off and you can call them.”

He did that, making sure to let her see what he was doing. The plane disappeared and the rest of the screen came back to life, showing a picture of a black car, the impala. He held the phone back out to her and gingerly, she took it from him.

“Everything used to be so much simpler.” she said, turning the phone around in her hand. “Even as a demon it was easier but I don’t have the chalice to contact anyone.”

He knew exactly what kind of chalice she was referring to, the one that demons used to call one another so long as it was filled with human blood.

It didn’t put him off as much as it used to.

“Mary,” he said quietly. “Why’d you come to me?”

“Cause everything else has changed, everything else is completely different.” she told him, finally looking up at him. “You’re the only thing that hasn’t.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you, can’t stop thinking about everything.” Mary told him, not looking away. He barely dared to blink lest that she would disappear just as suddenly as she came. “And it pisses me off, just like before. Even when I was on the run with a kid, even when I was in Hell. Even to when I was trying to figure out a way to get the boys back up top. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“Because in a sea of everything, of change and of differences and everything in between,” she continued, turning for a moment to put her phone onto the table right next to his before she faced him once more. “You’re still the number one rock that I have.”

“I’m still mad at you, I’m still hurt and angry and I want to rip your goddamn spine out.” Mary said, stepping towards him. “That hasn’t changed. But...you were right before.” she looked down at her hand where his golden bang was, turning it and catching it in the light. “I still have feelings for you. Positive feelings.”

His lips and throat felt dry, he had to clear it a few times before he managed to speak. “And what do you want from me Mary?” he asked in a hushed voice.

Mary didn’t say anything, just stared at him. He wasn’t sure who moved first but before he could even blink their arms were around one another as their lips locked together.

They kissed breathlessly, desperately to a degree. Her fingers dug into him almost painfully as he moved her, backing her into the wall. She pressed up into him, moving her hips up against his as they kissed.

The phone suddenly ringing brought them back to their senses, causing them to break apart. Breathing heavily, the air filled with the scent of sulfur, they looked at one another and then back at the phone. Shaking his head John pulled away, he gave that phone number out to people that might need his help, he reluctantly moved away from her, picking the phone up and flipping it open, putting it on speaker as he cleared his voice and tried to sound coherent. "Hello?"

There was no answer and John's forehead furrowed slightly, ready to just about end the call as Mary walked up to him and asked, "John, what is it?"

The both of their eyes widened when suddenly Dean's voice came from the phone. "Mom." Mary cursed under her breath, hands coming up to cover her face. "What the Hell are you doing with John Winchester?"

#supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #SPN #175/366 #366 day challenge #366 days of writing #standing between two worlds au #john winchester #john/mary #JohnMary #JohnxMary #mary winchester #mary campbell #demon!mary

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frivery · 3 years

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Your tiny tutor Tobai is finally here, my Liege! c:>

Tobai, the King’s new instructor, arrives on the scene.

First part is here, the piece before this is here, if you want to read those. The next part is here.

It had been alittle over two months since he had been named the new King. He was slowly beginning to have a bigger part in the ruling of the Kingdom behind the scenes but his still poor grasp on Noble Etiquette meant that Brigan had adamantly insisted that he have as little interaction with their subjects as possible. So far, the elf had been handling the visual part of ruling just fine but the longer it took for Vier to start doing so the worse it would make him look in the eyes of the public. He was hiding from them, which was never a good thing for a ruler.

To any normal person it would look like the imperial was pacing his room, which he technically was, but Phatom had mentioned that he should refine his walk to appear more... regal. He had, honestly, been a little offended at the suggestion, Brigan quickly stepping in to admonish her for speaking so rudely to the king, but equally not denying that she was correct in her assessment. So, here he was pacing the room with most of his mind focusing on how moving felt and... how it might look to an observer. Vier had never thought he had poor posture, no one had ever told him so, but standing up in this manner still made his back hurt even though he hadn’t even been doing it for very long. He had been doing this, occasionally, for about a week but he didn’t feel like he was really getting anywhere with changing the way he actually held himself.

A polite knock on the door alerted him to someone standing at it, followed by the familiar voice of one of his two advisors.

“Your Highness, may we enter?” he said, Vier blinked at the use of ‘we’ and briefly pondered who Brigan had brought with him this time.

“Of course, please do.” he responded absently, curiosity stopping him from returning to his pacing. Normally, when Brigan came to visit with someone else he would enter first but this time the elf held the door to allow a petite goblin to enter before him. Vier had never seen this man, but the edge of his memory remembered that Brigan had mentioned that his tutor was a primal from the ice domain... and this man was definingly one. His skin was a paler, icy, blue that came from being a specific subsect of goblin that evolved primarily in the ice domain, Vier vaguely recalled seeing a few before he had ended up in the Shadow Domain was he was only a few years old. The goblin also had saturated red, blue, and cream-tan makeup that accentuated his ice-blessed eyes and sharp features. Clothes a surprising dark green that screamed nobility in its complex layering, intricate embroidery, and clean seam-lines, in his green-gloved hand was a fan he had snapped shut that was some kind of icy-blue with a cream-brown wooden frame. Walking with a surprising amount of purpose, the goblin stepped into the room ahead of the elf that had lead him there and crossed the carpet to stand a few feet away. His eyes were so pale and pupilless that it was hard to immediately tell what he was seeing, but Vier could feel him briefly examining him... before dropping down on his right knee into a deep kneel, leaning forward slightly and placing the hand with his fan to his chest. Vier was stunned, so far no one had kneeled before him like that and he glanced helplessly at Brigan as the elf quickened his pace to stand slightly off to the goblin’s side. Closer now than before, Vier could vaguely smell a heavy scent of dried spiced flowers, something that reminded him of his home Domain.

“Your Highness, may I introduce his royal tutor, Tobai... of the Snowflake Empire.” that sounded familiar, like a place he had briefly heard about before. The king turned his gaze back to Tobai, the ice-blessed man staring up at him expectantly.

“Welcome to the Blue Kingdom, Lord Tobai, I greatly... appreciate your willingness to.. assist us with this matter.” the pauses he could do without, but besides that he felt pretty confident with the introduction.

“I am greatly honored by your words, Your Majesty.” the goblin responded smoothly, tone submissive but confident, as he remained kneeling in the same posture as before. Brigan gave him a half-alarmed look when the silence stretched on for a moment too long, the purple gaze casing Vier to jolt back to the present instead of staring down into the endless expanse of ice blue that was Tobai’s eyes.

“Rise, you are an honored guest in our halls.” he quickly added, which caused the elf to relax slightly. Tobai stood, posture perfect as he quickly executed a small bow before flipping open his light fan with a smooth flick of his wrist, causing a soft jingle from the metal of his otherwise green-cloth cuffs. The fan reminded him of the ice and snow almost as much as the goblin’s eyes did, the thin-but-stiff fabric of the fan being carefully woven into a scene reminiscing an artistically-rendered winter-wasteland.

“I see what his Lordship Brigan meant now of his Majesty. We look forward to working with his Majesty if he will allow our advice.”

“I would not have requested a tutor if I didn’t want to be corrected, Lord Tobai.” Vier responded in a friendly tone, but something about his response caused the ice-primal to narrow his eyes slightly.

“It is ‘If I did not want to be corrected’, Your Majesty. Contractions are for peasantry and low-bloods. Your Majesty is better than that, now.” the correction was quick, and a little harsh to his surprise, he supposed he should expect that of someone born and raised in the Ice Domain.

“Right. I will work on that.” he agreed, the goblin snapped his little fan shut in response.

“Your Majesty will learn corrections faster if he repeats the sentence properly, if we can suggest such to his Imperial Highness.” despite the polite phrasing it was obviously an instruction, the King glanced at Brigan in confusion who smiled almost sadistically in response.

“Okay... I would not have requested a tutor if I.. did not want to be corrected. Is that proper?” Tobai shook his head, his feathery hair somehow managing to stay in place with the gesture.

“His Majesty should always address who he is referring to, if we may say so. ‘Is that Proper, Lord Tobai?’ would be the noble way to say it... unless His Majesty was intending to ask his Lordship Brigan?” Vier felt his chest tighten slightly, in both embarrassment and frustration.

“I apologize, I’ll-... I will try again. Is this the proper way to say it, Lord Tobai?” he may have said it with a little bite, the goblin humming to himself before he stepped up to the imperial and stretched to lightly bop the king on the nose to his great surprise and confusion.

“His Majesty must never show his emotions, lest he show his hand. Your Majesty is very noble, kind, and proper, Your Majesty will learn quickly if he is patient with us.” Vier took a deep breath, but with the obvious complimentary speak he couldn’t really stay frustrated with Tobai... plus he was just doing his job. He wouldn’t be a very useful etiquette tutor if he wasn’t picky.

“Thank you for agreeing to help us, Lord Tobai.”

“Thank you for honoring me with a stay in Your Majesty’s hallowed halls.” no correction this time, that must have been right. At least he could say that without screwing it up.

“Thank you again, Lord Tobai, for coming all the way out here to assist us. I will see that the servants have your room set up properly before tonight, please excuse me.” Brigan piped up, causing Vier to frown slightly at him.

“A pleasure working with you, your Lordship.” Tobai responded, bowing slightly which the elf returned.

“Very well, Brigan, dismissed.” now the elf bowed even deeper to him, smiling in an overly self-pleased manner before leaving the King with his new tutor. Well... he was either going to learn quick or this was going to be a frustrating next... year or so.

“To clarify, for his Majesty, his Lordship Brigan should have requested your Majesty’s permission to leave before addressing ourself with an request to excuse.” oh, now that was interesting it appeared that he wasn’t the only one that would end up corrected during Tobai’s stay.

#fr lore #flightrising #flight rising

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daincrediblegg · 4 years

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A fluffy gift for Egg, do with this what you will~

Your ringing ears were met with the telltale click of the door unlocking. The screeching whine produced by the rickety old doors hinges was familiar to you, it always signaled the arrival of your loving returning home to you after an arduous day apart. Yet today it’s significance was vastly overwhelmed by the grating effect its squeaking, neglected hardware provided. You were gripped with a pounding, incessant migraine. The sort that radiated from behind both eyes as it webbed wicked, malicious tendrils around the entirety of your skull, the surrounding muscles tightening in protest of the affliction. It spidered down your neck, biting into your traps where the base of your collar met shoulders. Everything was hazy; you were plagued with a maddening throbbing from your temples to your upper back, the mass of muscles irritated as a result. All you found you were capable of doing was laying as still as you could stand on the couch, desperation fueling you to rub circles over your forehead, pressing fingers down along the ridge of your brows, applying much needed pressure to your wailing temples. Everything otherwise innocuous and mundane now taunted you with its newfound ability to inflict pain and suffering. The television was too loud and blinding, no matter how low you set the volume. Not even the preferred, soft glow of candle light was tolerable, rendering you weakened in the pitch black of the apartment.

The moment he entered the apartment, it was instantly evident something was wrong. Arthur gingerly shut the door behind him with a muted click, shrugging his worn jacket from his narrow shoulders. Anytime he returned home, especially after a day as long as this, the atmosphere was always vibrant thanks to you. Typically at the stove spoiling him with another home-cooked specialty from scratch, or eager footsteps from another room in his quaint apartment as you hurriedly abandoned whatever it was you had been up to just to greet him. He was alarmed to the shift simply from the absence of music, muffled beyond the door as he fished his keys from his pocket. He could almost guarantee that any given evening he returned home to you, he was alerted to your presence by the crooning sounds of Fleetwood Mac or Clapton before he even ventured inside your shared space. Further startling, the apartment was dark. No fragrant candles burning, the cozy light emitting from an end table lamp, not even the luminescence from the television.

“Gen?”, he set the keys down on the counter adjacent to the door, leaning against the wall to steady himself as he set to prying off his shoes, “how was your day?”

He was simply met with a groan, sounding very much like it was breathed into a pillow or thick, knit blanket. Upon further inspection he found your form curled tightly in a ball, face buried in a pillow, an overall tense set to your luscious form.

“That good, huh?” his thin lips twisted in a sympathetic smile as he sank down slowly next to you, the cushions dipped beneath his weight, signaling his closeness. He brought a sinewy hand to rest delicately on your shoulder, thumb rubbing gently against your clothed deltoid.

“I want to die.” your mumble almost a whimper, refusing to uncurl yourself to acknowledge him properly. You hadn’t spoken all day, and now the act of speech felt labored, your words thick around your cotton tongue, mouth nearly devoid of all moisture. He chuckled a little, raking calloused finger tips down your back soothingly, up and down. His tone was a quiet murmur, the gentle rasp music to your tinnitus beset ears.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were that close to your period,” long, dexterous fingers dragged up your back to thread in your hair, combing his fingers through your silken, dark locks.

“Oh, no it’s not that, I almost wish it was,” you craned your neck as much as the discomfort would allow, and you opened one heavily-lidded eye in his direction, “I woke up with the worst headache and nothing is helping.”

Olive iris immediately softened as you spoke, as he continued to affectionately stroke your hair, corralling the disheveled strands to hook behind your ear. You were everything to him, you injected so much warmth and color into his life that was so uniquely you. Your personal brand had stamped itself onto every facet of his life, and he couldn’t feel more fortunate or grateful. However seeing you laying there, your color drained, your sparkling eyes decidedly dulled and your ebullience replaced lethargy did his heart break. Of all the ways in which you had imbued an unstoppable feeling in him, the feeling intoxicating as he had never felt anything of the sort before you, he knew he was utterly powerless to help. He couldn’t take your headache from you and experience it in your stead as much as he ached to, and he couldn’t dispel the pain with a snap of his fingers, like he so desperately wished he could. He’d be damned, however, if that would stop him from doing everything in his power to nurse you back to health as much as he was able.

“Did you have coffee today?”

“Of course.”

“Water?”

Your silence caused him to arch an eyebrow, his countenance playfully scolding you.

“I…I had coffee, which technically counts it has water in it.”

He carefully stood, knees creaking as he did so, “you should know better than to use my own lines on me, missy.”

Eye popping open just to a narrow slit, you stole a peek to see he was grinning despite his teasing.

“Just lay there, I’ll be right back.”

Coiling into an even tighter ball on yourself, migraine rearing with vengeance, you shut both eyes once more, offering a weak, “Uh-huh.”

Arthur returned after just a few moments of running water at the sink, bringing with him two compresses. He urged you to sit up right, before placing the neatly folded towels; a cold compress over your forehead, and a warm one to drape over the back of your neck and shoulders.

“I’m going to go start the shower for you,” his lips brushed against your hairline in a peck as he stood once more, “just keep those on for the time being.”

After running the water for a few moments, and checking numerous times that the temperature was just right, he guided you to the bathroom with him, helping you out of your clothing while you rested your head against the crook of his neck.

He peppered kisses to the top of your head, ceasing his disrobing of you just to quickly bury his fingers in your shoulder length hair once more, massaging gentle circles into the base of your skull as you purred.

“How are we doing?”

“Better,” you hummed against his prominent collar bone, your warm breath ghosting across his skin and raising goosebumps as you did so, “the lights a little harsh on my eyes though.”

“I’ll take care of that, just get in,” he peeled the pale shower curtain back, watching your bare form retreat into the tiled enclosure with an appreciative glint in his eyes, “I’ll join you in a moment.”

The droplets of hot water pelted against your skin, enveloping you in a welcome embrace of delicious heat and clouds of steam. Your skin tingled from the sensation, melting the tension from your knotted muscles near instantly as you stood beneath the steady stream, eyes still shut.

You were alerted to Arthur’s return with the heavy padding of his bare footsteps, and the click of his lighter piercing the drone from the shower head. Cautiously allowing one eye open to glance your surroundings, you were pleasantly met with the bathroom bathed in total darkness, save for the flicker of a candle just behind the curtain on the bathroom sink, silhouetting Arthur as he shed his slacks and undershirt.

A quick rush of cool air swirled in as he peeled the curtain back to entertain, the goosebumps prickling against your skin soon soothed with his warm flesh as he embraced you in a hug from behind. He sighed against your ear, placing a kiss there, as he wrapped his arms tighter around you, nuzzling against your wet hair, beginning to leave a trail of kisses along your neck, dipping his head to reach your shoulder.

You melted in his touch, your fingers lazily brushing through the dusting of hair on his forearms, the muscles tensed as he all but held you up. His smell was clean, yet with an underlying hint of musk, akin to staleness from multiple cigarettes. You breathed it in almost greedily as the water dripped down your joined bodies. His gaunt body was quite firm, and he always ran incredibly hot. The bridge of his nose brushed against your jaw as he peppered the front of your throat with kisses.

“You know, I’ve heard orgasms can help with migraines.”

“Oh? Is that so?” his lips curled into a smirk against your damp skin, the scar puckering above his upper lip crinkling in the process.

Your eyes still shut, you tilted your head back to rest against his shoulder as his lips continued their affectionate, gentle assault. “Mhm.”

His voice a deep, hoarse rumble, “you know now that you mention it I seem to recall hearing something similar.”

You giggled as he pulled you closer, playfully nipping at your collar bone.

The two of you found yourself curled up in bed, Arthur deftly combing your damp locks with his fingers and gently twirling it as to be able to clip it up to keep it off your neck and out of your face. You laid against his side, legs twisted with his as you nursed the peppermint tea he had fixed for you.

“What would you like to watch?” you snuggled further into him, fingers tracing patterns on his bare chest.

Satisfied with his handy-work on your hair, he pawed at the end table, seeking the TV guide and set to thumbing through the pages.

“Well, we can watch the re-run of last nights WKRP in Cincinnati, or catch tonights episode of Taxi. Your call.”

“Hmm, WKRP.”

“You got it.”

It were the nights like these that kept Arthur going. You had always given your all so selflessly to him, you cared for him in ways he had never experienced, and did so so deeply, and without stipulation. Nights like these he could give back, prove to you in unspoken terms that he appreciated all you were and all you did for him.

Before long, he could feel your body go lax against his, deeper breaths escaping through your full lips as a much needed sleep over took you. He smiled to himself, running his hand up and down your back once more as he watched Howard Hesseman and Tim Reid ping off one another on the television unit at the foot of the bed.

All was right with the world.

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hey uh fam???? 3 read-throughs and I’m still like consistently on the verge of tears???? this turned a weird fuckin emotional day into a really good one and oh my god I don’t know if I could ever pay you back for this but I hope me screaming in your dms about how beautiful and detailed this thing is for the last 3 hours has been a good fucking start. Seriously. My fucking HERO.

#yeah this fluffy shit right here???? craked an egg right open #arthur fleck x reader #joker x reader #arthur fleck x egg #joker x egg #arthur fleck #joker #lmao thems legit tags now #gifts from friends #I only edited the name in I got u fam ;)#submission

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artificialqueens · 5 years

Text

From Under Liquid Glass (2) (Branjie)- Ortega

a/n: somebody said they wanted another lil chapter to this, so i hope u all enjoy! it’s been quite a while since the first chapter was posted, so if u want to catch up u can read here! I hope u all enjoy it, and as always feel free to send love to AQ or to my blog!!

Trigger Warning: lots of discussion around anxiety throughout the whole fic so just generally would say avoid if that’s something that’s going to potentially affect u

Summary: Brooke Lynn Hytes was always told she’d have it all. She was never told that “all” would include crippling anxiety. Signed off from work at 27, Brooke moves back to her childhood home and has to get her head around her fall from grace.

Vanessa “Vanjie” Mateo has no job, no degree, and -£32.65 to her name, but she prides herself on keeping a level head. That all changes when a certain high school crush moves back into town and back into her life.

***

Brooke sat in a slightly cushioned red chair with a curved back, rendering her almost horizontal in the way it reclined. Opposite her in an identical chair was an older woman of around 40, who wore thick-rimmed purple glasses and had ensured the whole room smelt of incense sticks. So far she was filling every therapist stereotype in the book.

“So the purpose of today’s session, Brooke Lynn,” she said, in a voice so calming it made her sound like she’d been tranquilised and was moments away from passing out. “Is to just let me get to know a bit about you and your situation and what’s brought you here to me.”

Brooke ran a hand through her hair and shrugged. “I’ve been…signed off from work. With stress.“

The woman sat opposite her, simply looking. Not staring. Not replying. Just looking. It soon became clear that she wasn’t going to speak, so Brooke sighed, crossed a leg and opened her mouth again. "And…it fucking sucks? Like I’ve been off for a couple of days now and I’m waiting for the moment where I don’t wake up feeling guilty as all hell and panicked and wanting to go back and work through it, but I know if I go back nothing will have changed and they’ll treat me like I’m all better and I won’t be.”

The woman pushed her glasses up her nose. “You mentioned ‘they’, who’s 'they’, Brooke Lynn?"

Brooke frowned, disliking the use of her name. It felt too personal, too familiar. She had only just met the woman and here she was about to tell her all her life story? There was no way she could do this.

Nevertheless, she puffed a lot of air out of her cheeks and continued. "My management. They don’t care about staff wellbeing. As long as there’s a body in the room, they’re happy.”

The woman nodded slowly, then cast an eye to the forms on the small coffee table beside her that Brooke had filled in just moments ago. “So you’re a secondary school teacher. It must be a very high-pressured job- exam grades to be met, reports to write, challenging behaviour?"

Brooke knew what she was trying to do, to get her to reveal more information without really asking her anything. It grated on her, and part of Brooke wanted to call her out on it irritably but then she’d be filling another therapy stereotype, the guarded, cranky patient who didn’t want to let her walls down, so she didn’t. "Yes. I teach dance, so. There’s lots of pressure to get my kids into dance schools as well. From parents, from management, from the kids.”

“And do you feel that some of that pressure comes from yourself?” the therapist asked. Brooke was taken aback by the question. She furrowed her brows.

“I mean…yeah, I guess? I always tend to put pressure on myself but that’s how I function, it’s how I work best, under pressure. So there’s always got to be a bit of that.”

“And do you feel under pressure just now, being off work?”

Brooke again was unsure. She thought of her answer for a moment before she said it, the room filled with silence. “I guess not? I mean no, maybe, yeah. Pressure to come back, I suppose.”

“Okay. Let’s take right now. Are you feeling under any pressure?"

Brooke blinked. If she thought about it too much, then yeah, sure. But at the moment, in the moment, she felt fine. She felt safe, if guarded. "No.”

“And are you still functioning?”

“…Yes.”

“So you don’t really need to pressure yourself to work hard. Do you?”

Brooke felt her eyebrows raise. Her voice caught in her throat. “I…guess not.”

There was a small pause. The woman nodded back at her. “Maybe something that we can work on is…thinking in the moment.”

Brooke felt an odd sense of clarity. Was this how therapy was supposed to feel? “Okay. Sure.”

The therapist moved on. “So you detailed you were living at home for the time being. What’s your support system like here?”

“Uh, there’s my Mum and my Dad. Both still working, inexplicably, since they both should’ve retired a couple years ago. They’re sweet and supportive but I don’t feel like I can really properly talk to them, you know?”

The therapist nodded and said nothing. This was like pulling teeth.

“Uh, there’s my cat, Henry. Well, he’s not strictly my cat, he’s the family cat.”

“And what about friends?” the woman asked inquisitively, Brooke shrugging easily.

“Yeah, I mean I have-” she cut herself off. Yvie? Plastique? Bianca? Scarlet? Detox? No. None of them she could really call support. Nina? She was sweet, but she was a work friend, plus she was now miles away back in the city. Who did Brooke actually have? The thought sobered her, and she clammed up. The therapist gently spoke again.

“We don’t have to discuss friendships today if that’s a particularly sore subject for you, but it’s good that you at least have family around you at this time.”

“It’s not that it’s a sore subject, I guess I just…” Brooke sighed, feeling a lump in her throat which she quickly swallowed down. “I just didn’t realise how few friends I have any more.”

“It’s natural to lose contact with people as you grow older. Perhaps one thing you could decide to do with your time off is to catch up with old friends while you have the time. It may help you feel more grounded, or lift your mood,” the woman suggested gently. Brooke watched as she glanced to the clock on her desk. “That’s almost it for the time we have. Next session we’ll talk a bit more in detail about what we’ve covered just now, but it was good to meet you today, Brooke Lynn, and to get to know you a bit. Is there anything you’d like to ask me?”

Brooke thought. “Uh, how many of these sessions would you say I had to have before I start feeling…you know. Myself again.”

Her therapist set her mouth in an awkward line. “That’s not for me to say. It’s whenever you feel ready and whatever pace you move at over the course of these sessions. It’s entirely your decision.”

Brooke nodded briefly. That was good. She enjoyed having the control, enjoyed feeling like she could stop at any time.

“What time would suit you for next week’s session?”

Brooke cracked a smile. “Uh, well, I’m pretty easy, what with the whole being signed off work thing.”

The woman opposite her just looked at her expectantly. Tough crowd, therapists. Brooke picked the same day, same time and then left the building, the professional, office-like facade rendering none of the general public able to tell that Brooke has just been to see someone because she was ever so slightly fucking loopy. She felt as if she was part of Men In Black. Or the MIB would have to stand for something else. Mentally Ill Bitch? That should do it.

Checking the time and slowing down outside a coffee shop, she shrugged. It was just past 10 and she hadn’t had any breakfast yet, unless she counted a beta blocker and a cup of tea. She pushed the door and headed inside, the smell of coffee hitting her instantly and reminding her of work, an uneasy feeling creeping up in her chest. The feeling only got worse when she saw who was in the queue one person ahead of her. She heard her before she saw her, Vanessa shouting up an order for a cappuccino loudly over the banging and whirring of the coffee machines. She was dressed in a smart red pinafore dress with a black top underneath, its ¾ length sleeves showing off her tanned arms. Brooke was thrown, looking at the ceiling, the floor, the suspicious-looking cheese and mushroom toasties on display, anything and anywhere apart from the girl’s face. Brooke felt herself hold her breath. Why the fuck was she destined to bump into Vanessa every time she looked like a demon from an M. Night Shyamalan movie? Her hair (clean, but not blow-dried so all her ends were dry and frizzy) was swept up into an unattractive ponytail that made her look like a forgotten Mitchell brother, she didn’t have a scrap of makeup on her face, and all her clothes were the ones from uni she’d neglected to take with her when she moved so she was wearing dark blue jeans, white converse, and a horrific blue sweatshirt patterned with sushi with “THIS IS HOW I ROLL” in huge white letters across the front, which had seemed like a good idea to nineteen-year-old Brooke.

And then Vanessa turned around and hit her with a huge beaming smile, her face lighting up in surprise. Fuck. For a huge town, it did simultaneously seem really quite small.

“Hey! Brooke Lynn! Come up! She’s with me,” Vanessa gestured and said to the barista, an awkward Brooke shuffling past the man in front of her and over to Vanessa. “How are you?”

“I’m alright, thanks- uh, an almond croissant and a flat white, please,” Brooke said to the man across the counter from her, cringing as she felt the judgemental eyes of the man queueing behind her boring into her. Trying to ignore her overwhelming embarrassment at feeling watched, she turned to Vanessa instead. “How are you?”

“I’m fuckin’ peachy, girl. Gone and got myself an interview, haven’t I?” Vanessa smiled proudly, a smile involuntarily springing to Brooke’s face.

“Oh, wow, that’s great! Congratulations!"

"Yeah, well, it’s only Lidl. It’s not amazing. But I’m still excited,” Vanessa shrugged, Brooke clocking the dimples that appeared as the other girl smiled. Had they always been a thing?

“You could say you’re a Lidl bit excited,” Brooke said, completely monotone as Vanessa snorted a laugh and thumped her on the arm. Brooke was distracted by the barista who asked her if she wanted her food to take away. Brooke gave a quick glance at Vanessa, who smiled hesitantly.

“I’ve got mine to sit in. I’ve got twenty minutes or so before I have to head for my train, you can come join me if you want,” she shrugged lightly, Brooke feeling a blush hit her cheeks. Why? Why was she blushing? It was only a girl from high school asking her to hang out.

“Sure. Sitting in then, please,” Brooke smiled tightly at the barista. She held her card out to tap against the reader, but before she could even react, Vanessa had leaned across and got her own card there first. Brooke turned to her with narrowed eyes and the other girl smirked cheekily. “You’re literally unemployed.”

“Oh, what, and a bitch can’t treat a girl to nice things?” Vanessa snapped, her face at once furious, and Brooke felt her own blanche in horror. A tsunami of relief washed over her as Vanessa suddenly laughed, her eyes crinkling up at the edges. “Jesus H Christ, you’re far too easy to wind up. You’re like a lil’ clockwork toy.”

Brooke felt her cheeks grow hot. Blushing again. What the fuck?

They took their drinks to a small seat beside the window, where the glass was wet and misty from condensation and the people passing outside moved like ghosts. Vanessa curled her hands around the huge mug of coffee, neglecting to sip it yet and instead choosing to tilt her head and smile at Brooke gently. “So, you’re up kinda early for a bitch that’s off work. You not livin’ the high life watching Judge Rinder and sleepin’ in til noon an’ shit?”

Brooke gave a laugh. “I was at therapy.”

“Damn, well I really put my foot in it there,” Vanessa gave a slightly choked cough and smiled guiltily at Brooke. “I’m sorry, girl. How was it? You make any amazing breakthroughs?”

“Well it was only the first session. It was mainly just me filling out paperwork and telling her about my life and stuff,” Brooke shrugged, looking down as she ripped her croissant in two. When she looked up, Vanessa was biting back a smile, her eyes sparkling a little.

“Damn. You paid forty pounds for that?”

Brooke raised an unimpressed eyebrow at the girl opposite her, trying and failing to hold back a smile at Vanessa’s mischievous grin. “Forty five actually.”

“Oh, my bad. Sorry. Forty five,” Vanessa smirked, Brooke laughing in spite of herself. “Shit, maybe I should become a terrapin.”

“…therapist,” Brooke corrected her, a little awkward. As Vanessa snorted at herself, her cheeks grew red in a blush that only seemed to make her more endearing. Intrigued, Brooke tilted her head. “Okay, then, Miss Therapist. What would you say to me? What advice would you give?”

“Well, I’d just say that…” Vanessa began, looking a little lost. Snapping her gaze back to Brooke, her face seemed to soften. It set off a warm feeling that spread across Brooke’s heart and out into her chest. “I’d say that things look really shitty now, but it’s always darkest before dawn, y’know, and tomorrow’s another day. Just try not to look at things long-term. I don’t know, I know I hardly know you, really, but you just seem like someone who has this big five-year-plan. You don’t have to, girl. You’re what, twenty-seven?”

“Good to know I look my age,” Brooke quipped dryly. Vanessa kicked her underneath the table.

“Bitch, I know how old you are! I was fourteen when you were eighteen, so you’re twenty-seven now! Am I wrong?”

“Do you call all your clients bitches?” Brooke asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“Only the pretty ones,” Vanessa gave her a look that Brooke couldn’t make out, but she knew it made her cross her legs under the table and squeeze her thighs together. Vanessa raised her coffee to her lips and gave a light shrug. “And the ones that are bitches, of course.”

Brooke snorted a laugh. “Okay, so that’s your advice? One day at a time, it’s always darkest before dawn? Damn, I’ve never visited a therapist that speaks entirely in cliches.”

Vanessa finished drinking and put her mug down. “Ah, but I actually gave you advice! Which is more than yours did today, what’d she do, give you some forms and listen to your life story?”

“Stop trash-talking my therapist, god,” Brooke rolled her eyes, Vanessa laughing playfully opposite her. Her deep brown eyes seemed to light up every time she laughed or smiled, giving them a sparkle that Brooke couldn’t help but be drawn to. “You’re not getting paid for that, by the way.”

“Damn. Shame, really. I could use it if this job interview goes to shit,” Vanessa shrugged, her smile turning the slightest bit sad as she turned to look out the window. “Which it prolly will.”

“Don’t say that! It’ll be fine. Better than fine! You’ll be great,” Brooke insisted, almost falling over herself to reassure Vanessa. God, why was she so nervous all of a sudden? It was probably the anxiety. It definitely wasn’t the smile Vanessa sent her way in return.

“You’re sweet,” she said softly, a slight flush of red hitting her cheeks.

Yep. Definitely the anxiety. Not Vanessa’s outrageously fucking beautiful face.

“Well, I’m telling the truth! You’d be great in retail, I don’t know why people aren’t falling over themselves to employ you.”

“Brooke, when I said I didn’t have any quali…qualificitations…”

“Qualifications.”

“…fuckin’, A-Levels. I meant it. I have nothin’. I’m fuckin’ Whitney Houston over here,” Vanessa gave a small laugh, sighing as she took another sip. Brooke couldn’t help but mirror the sigh.

“If you don’t mind me asking…how come?” Brooke asked tentatively, cushioning the invasive question with a compliment. “You always struck me as someone really bright,”

Vanessa snorted. “Your judgement’s poor, boo. I’m a fuckin’ idiot. How d’you think I was fourteen in Year 7? I had to sit Year 5 twice. You know I straight-up couldn’t write a sentence on my own until I was eight?”

Brooke tried to feign indifference but she knew her expression gave her away. Vanessa laughed. “Exactly, bitch! Then when I got to high school, the teachers were all bitchier an’ meaner. And I was goin’ through puberty as well, which made me bitchier an’ meaner. So bitchy mean teachers plus bitchy mean Vanjie was never gonna be a good combo.”

Brooke let a small silence hang in the air as Vanessa stared out of the steamed-up window and cupped her mug with two hands. “I was screamin’ at teachers in class, swearin’ at ‘em, straight-up threw a book at some bitch’s head once. To be fair, she deserved it, ‘cuz she started sayin’ I would be a total failure in life an’ have no job an’ no prospects. And I mean, I am, but you don’t say that to a fifteen year old kid, right? I don’t know…I regret a lot of the shit I did, but I don’t regret that.”

Brooke said nothing, instead just choosing to listen to all Vanessa wanted to vent to her. “Of course, ‘cuz I started gettin’ mouthy in class I started gettin’ the attention of the other mouthy girls. They didn’t like me…fuck knows why, but they didn’t. I got in a bunch of fights…I mean, some people would prolly say they bullied me, but I gave as good as I got, you know? Anyway, got to sixteen an’ they expelled me. And there was no legal requirement for me to go back to school, so I never did. My Mum, shit, I never saw her so mad before. She told me the moment I turned eighteen I was out on my ass, an’ she held that up. I was all cocky, thinkin’ I could just charm myself into a job. But here I am. Five years later an’ I’m in a council flat livin’ off the most basic fuckin’ government handout and the last of the savings my Mum put aside for me.”

Brooke shook her head. “Fuck, Vanessa, I’m sorry. That’s really rough.”

“Hey, it’s just my life! That’s my lot, girl, an’ I’m stuck with it. But hopefully today’s my lucky day,” Vanessa smiled tightly, then frowned. “Fuck, Brooke, I’m kinda nervous.”

Brooke was hit with an unbearable urge to reach out and take Vanessa’s hand. She didn’t. “That’s natural. Don’t worry. You’ll kill it, they’ll love you!”

Vanessa smiled bashfully again, which made Brooke feel like melting butter. Unable to help herself, she added, “You could definitely charm yourself into a job.”

Brooke pressed her lips together to keep from smiling as Vanessa let out a laugh. “You’re awful, Jesus Christ! Stop distractin’ me, I need to be focused.”

“How am I distracting you!” Brooke exclaimed, affronted. Vanessa gazed at her with a look in her eye that Brooke couldn’t decipher, then shook her head.

“Doesn’t matter,” she laughed softly. Then her gaze snapped to the clock on the wall. “Damn, I need to hurry. That’d be my luck if I missed my fuckin’ train. Shit, sorry for offloading my fuckin’ life story onto you.”

“Don’t worry. I kinda did the same to you in the supermarket, so now we’re even. You have my full permission to launch into deep chat any time you see me,” Brooke smiled, regretting the fact that Vanessa had to leave. As she grabbed her bag, Vanessa’s face turned wistful. Pausing, she pulled out her phone.

“Y’know, we should do this again some time. Before you have to go back to work. I know I’m a shit therapist, but you still don’t need to pay me anythin’ if you wanna talk. I mean, maybe you can get the coffee next time. Since you actually earn a fuckin’ wage.”

Brooke laughed, her heart fluttering as Vanessa held out her phone with a blank contact on the screen. Brooke punched in her number then, pausing for only a second, she wrote her name as “Brooke x”. Her heart held its breath as Vanessa took the phone back, cast a glance over it, and smiled ever so slightly.

“Cool. Well, I’ll text you next time I’m free, and I’ll let you know how I do today. But it was so good to see you, girl. As always,” Vanessa smiled, leaning down and giving Brooke a hug. Her clothes smelt of washing powder and her hair had that freshly-shampooed scent, and the two combined made Brooke not want to let go. Vanessa made that decision for her, pulling away and waving a goodbye as she hurried out of the shop.

As Brooke watched her red-pinafored silhouette make its way to the train station, she found herself sitting her phone on the coffee table screen-up, an unexpected optimism and hope nestling itself in her heart, and her mind filled with the girl who had been dealt shit cards in life but who’d still tapped her card against the reader to pay for Brooke’s drink as if it was nothing.

#rpdr fanfiction #branjie #angst #lesbian au #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #from under liquid glass #ortega

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midorynn · 6 years

Text

Basic Colouring Tutorial

1) Choose a character to sketch

I chose a cool character by my friend daydreamkazooma at twitter. I kinda wanted to give him a flamboyant pose for some reason.

2) Let’s skip line art phase for now and add the base colours

Do not worry too much about what colours to use. Just fill in a general colour and use Hue/Saturation adjustment if you’re not happy.

Try to imagine what the final piece will look like in terms of how the colours will help direct the viewers eyes. In this example, the way the yellow attacks your eyes immediately brings your view to his jacket.

3) Picking a colour to use for the shading

Now for the shading. Imagine how the object looks in 3D so you can properly show off shapes. Also notice how I flick my pen to create some of the hair shapes.

To choose the colour for shading:

Use the eyedropper tool to select your base colour. (Pic on the top right)

Slide the adjuster on the colour wheel downwards, just a little bit. Then click a colour going towards the lower right on the “colour box” for that perf dark hue. (Pic on the bottom right)

4) Keep going with your shading, always keeping the shapes in mind

e.g.) spiky hair = spiky, triangular shades

The whites of his eyes are so bright its getting creepy, so let’s pick a darker value that’s more pleasant to the eyes and use it for shading the teeth too. I also changed the colour of his tongue.

5) Follow the folds and shade accordingly

Take note of the type of fabric and the weight of the clothes. This is difficult to explain without going into too much detail, but in general, the thicker/heavier a fabric is, the less folds it has. Your jeans tend to have less folds compared to your cotton shirt.

The McDonald’s red and yellow is starting to bother me at this point so I hid the yellows, and used Ctrl + U (Hue/Saturation adjustment window) to find a darker redviolet for his jacket which I think is a good shading colour for red hues.

6) Lighting

Before that, I darkened the (too) bright yellows so it’s not jarring against his jacket.

Add the base colour on top of the shading. You do this by thinking of the LIGHTING instead. I personally do this method more; the other method being: painting with the SHADOWS/SHADING in mind.

Use a bright yellow to light his jacket’s lining.

Also, notice his red gloves are blending in too much against his dark jacket... so what do we do?

7) Contrast

A bright colour of course! Make those gloves pop.

Extra details: The white pattern on his shirt and trousers.

8) Focal point

OK, let’s give him an eye colour that can “compete” with the eye catching yellows in his jacket. We want to bring attention to his face as well.

The viewer’s eyes are now focusing on his intense eyes before his stylish jacket. We successfully changed the focal point back to his face, don’t you think?

9) More shading

Let’s shade the gloves:

Notice how the shade colour I chose goes towards the left, (towards desaturation)

Unlike the previous shade choices which were towards the right (towards saturation) For example on his hair:

This is to sort of ‘balance’ the tones. Saturated hues are generally hard to handle so be careful with them. If you choose a saturated tone for shading when your base colour is also a bright tone like a saturated orange, it can end up looking like its been coloured in MS Paint, like so:

When I coloured the yellows on his jacket in a previous step, I did this too.

I switched to Photoshop so my colour wheel is now a... colour box.(?)

Towards-the-left on the colour wheel is Downwards on the colour box.

10) Now for the pre-rendering stage.

Select the shaded areas using the Magic Wand Tool. It’s OK if it feels messy.

Then, using the same method of choosing your shade colour, (again, choose downwards the “colour box”, towards the saturated hues) choose a shade darker than your Shade colour for a deeper shade colour.

Using a soft round brush with pen pressure turned off, carefully paint on the edges of his hair. Just the edges please, you don’t want to replace your original shading colour with the darker tone.

11) Highlight

Now Invert Selection in Select > Inverse and paint the area near the shadows with the Highlight tone so you make that nice contrast effect. Highlights tend to go towards the desaturated areas (to the left)

Do the same for the jacket:

And the yellows:

I dabbed this same yellow Highlight colour lightly on his black shirt serving as its Highlights instead of choosing a lighter tone from the black base.

I find a saturated splash of colour on a black surface much more cool looking.

Do it again for the skin.

I said ‘Highlight’ on that pic on the right, but that’s not really the actual highlight colour. It’s a secondary colour to add hues to the skin so the character looks more alive, kinda like blush-on in makeup. The concept is, skin is translucent so you should tend to show the blood/haemoglobin underneath. For this character’s skin tone, I chose a more orange hue (slightly more saturated orange VS. the base orange) so it goes well with the rest of the colours.

12) Highlights on the face

Now for the real “highlight”. Just lightly dab with the soft round brush the side of the face where the most light hits. Add a little more orange hue if you want, to keep that gradation effect.

13) Finished establishing the colours!

Now just clean it up a little...

14) Lineart

...add lineart on the edges and you have a finished cel-shaded piece! Next step would be rendering it if you want to push further.

15) Rendering

Add textures.

Do the rest of the fucking owl.

=========================================================

Thanks for viewing! Kayl belongs to daydreamkazooma.

This is only a cel-shade tutorial but the tutorial to render the rest of the fucking owl is available in my patreon. Brushes used will also be available!

PATREON TWITTER DEVIANTART INSTAGRAM

#tutorial #colouring tutorial #kazooma

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comicteaparty · 4 years

Text

February 12th-February 18th, 2020 Reader Favorites Archive

The archive for the Reader Favorites chat that occurred from February 12th, 2020 to February 18th, 2020. The chat focused on the following question:

When applicable, what about a creator’s art might convince you to check out their comic?

carcarchu

I like a wide range of art styles so it's hard to pinpoint specifics but if an artist is able to draw very attractive looking characters (recognizable character designs, outfits that don't look like they came out of 2004 gap catalogue, characters that can still be recognized even when they change their hair style) then i find that very appealing. beyond that how well an artist can integrate the characters with the actual space they exist in is something i find very important as well. a bunch of floating heads can only carry a series so far. if the artist can make the characters feel like they properly exist in the space i think it can really elevate the series although in practice this is something very difficult to do.

Deo101 [Millennium]

For me, honestly some art styles are very inspiring to me and that will sometimes get me to read just because I want to see the art more and learn from it. Things like textures, colors, character design... It can draw me in just by exciting me as a learning opportunity

chalcara

For me art‘s the hook and story the line. Come for the art, stay for the story, you know?

Funnily I‘m looking less for pretty art and more for good visual story telling. I want the art to show whats going on without having to rely on dialogue.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I'm honestly very picky about art styles when it comes to comics, and that's a personal issue It has some to do with art styles being attractive to me, but honestly, the most important aspects of a creator's style to me are (1) consistency of style and anatomy, (2) level of completion, and (3) clear communication of what's happening. When it comes to whether or not I check out the comic initially, the main things that come into play with the promotional materials, covers, and/or thumbnails are contrast of the image and cleanness of the rendering. Of course, obviously, my personal tastes play into it. (I tend to like semi-realistic styles, sort of anime-ish but with a twist, or painted styles that may resemble concept art.) But honestly, probably more important than grabbing me initially to begin reading is readership retention. And that's where the 3 qualities I look for come into play: (1) Consistency of style and anatomy: This is probably the most important part for me as a reader. If I can't tell who is who because the characters change appearance from panel to panel, I'm ducking out, because that affects the clarity of storytelling. I also cringe everytime I see a particularly egregious anatomy error. I know what people look like. I see them every day. If I feel pain from looking at an artist's work, I'm not sticking around. (To be fair, everyone makes some kind of anatomy mistakes, but really it's if the anatomy mistakes are really awful to me and aren't as a result of a deliberate style CHOICE. Keyword, C H O I C E.) (2) Level of completion: This really just means that if it looks like the artist rushed through the panels or they were being lazy, I feel like their comic isn't worth my time. I mean, if an artist themselves doesn't care about their work, why should I?(edited)

. (3) Clear communication of what's happening: Once again clarity of storytelling is absolutely essential. If the composition of a large portion of the panels don't clearly show the actions of the characters, I can't follow the story. Aaaaaand as a bonus: Please, please, for the love of all powers that be, please, make your fonts legible. If I can't read the comic without squinting because your text is too tiny or hard to read, I'm not going to try. I have bad eyesight as it is. Take pity on your readers. I'm not going to suffer for your work. I have dropped far too many comics to count because the creator didn't care enough to make sure that the font was legible. And this applies to both desktop view, mobile view, scrolling format, and page to page format. Just.... Make your fonts big and clear.(edited)

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

That's interesting to think about how recognizable characters are when their hair style changes. I might try to use that as a character building exercise

Deo101 [Millennium]

Solid excercise: can you tell them all apart when they're bald and naked?

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

OoooooooOOOOOOOOOOHHHH

Might partake that challenge

Deo101 [Millennium]

Also it's really fun to draw characters in all sorts of hair and clothes so idk what id do if I couldn't tell them apart when doing that!!! That's like 40% of my art!

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

This just convinces me more and more to do AU art

Deo101 [Millennium]

Yeah aus are another 20% of what i draw LOL

Look im drawing the comic most of the time so I wish to partake in non canon things the rest

carcarchu

@sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD) i've read series before where the character gets a hair cut / dyes it and i'm like WHO ARE YOU? IS THIS A NEW CHARACTER?

Deo101 [Millennium]

Oh another good excercise is drawing your Characters in many different styles and seeing if they remain unique when not in yours.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I want to do all of this

This is stuff I hardly ever have time for

So I am extra attracted to it

Also, there IS a time later in the comic where a certain character's hair gets partially burned off

And then he cuts it pretty short to get rid of the singed edges

And I feel like his hair is like 80% of his character design

So I'm just a little scared about that

Deo101 [Millennium]

Also, @Cronaj (Whispers of the Past) , I am unsure what you mean by "readership retention" with something that makes you interested in a comic, could you explain?(edited)

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

By readership retention, I mean aspects of the art that decide whether I'll continue reading past the first few pages

(obviously story comes into play as well, but I won't pretend that the art in the first few pages of a comic don't contribute)

Deo101 [Millennium]

Oh okay, I thought you meant like how many readers have unfollowed or something

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Nah

More like, "oh cool! Your cover and blurb seem interesting. Lemme check out the comic!"

And then after reading the first few pages/chapter:

"ah... Not for me." Or "Nice, I'll keep reading!"

Deo101 [Millennium]

Gotcha

Capitania do Azar

Ohh I don't feel like dissing particular artsyle choices, but I know a few aren't for me. I'm no big fan of ultra realistic, hyper detailed stuff you usually see in super hero comics (other genres pick that style too sometimes and I still don't really appreciate). I particularly like artstyles that are distinct and recognizable, I have a hard time with stuff from different authors that just looks... Like a carbon copy (sometimes, the style being referenced is waaay too obvious and that is always a big no for me) Good use of color is key. Give me some good values too. I want colors to make sense and I am very tired of pink. I also appreciate consistency. If you give me artwork with a more paintery style but then the comic is cellshaded, that might tip me off. But not necessarily (tho I appreciate inner consistency inside the comic itself). Rushed stuff, like mentioned above, is also not a good look, but only insofar as it distracts me from what's happening in the story. Consistency is a very important word here, because I love seeing a common line that is able to take in all the differences that are necessary in character design and backgrounds, but also make me believe that they all could live in the same world.

Oh! And also: if the artstyle involves using lineart, I am really fond of sharp, clear lines with weight variation

sagaholmgaard

I'm curious about what you guys mean with consistency- do you guys not like if an artist's art style changes over the several years it might take to make a finished webcomic? Is it that it peeves you when the backgrounds are done in, say, a painterly style while the characters are done with lineart? Is it when the artists makes ordinary illustration work in a completely different style from their comic pages? (This is genuine curiosity I hope no one's feeling attacked rn ^^)

carcarchu

i personally really like seeing an artist's skills improve and evolve over the many years it takes to draw a series

even at the expense of a more "consistent" final product

sagaholmgaard

Yeah me too, it's one thing i really like about webcomics

chalcara

Can‘t talk about the others, but I get thrown off when one page is sprite comic, the next painterly, third cell-shaded without having a in-story-reasons for those style changes, like flashbacks or pov-changes. But more commonly, the issue’s the classic „comic‘s usually coloured, but oops, this time you only get the pencils because I had no time to update“. If that happens too often and/or doesn‘t get fixed for the archive I just lose investment in the comic.

Art evolution is natural, both in webcomic and published work with a dedicated artist.

Ah, that‘s another source of inconsistency - people switching colourists or even artists around. Once in a while is fine, but if it happens every month or so, I tend to get annoyed by it. It‘s actually why I killed my first webcomic twenty years ago; it was a collaberation and life kept getting in the way forcing me to switch colourists every five pages or so.

carcarchu

oh actually i have read a webcomic where they changed artist's 18 chapters in. i really fell in love with the magical and dark tone of the original artist and was engrossed in the world that they set up. they had a painterly style and it really set the atmosphere of the entire series but then the new artist had a super clean and cutesy art style and the sudden tonal shift really threw me off. in the long run the new artist was actually extremely consistent and better at actually releasing long chapters and very good quality chapters and the writing actually improved too because of it but it was never able to recapture what it was that i really loved about the original art style. also the new artist changed the character designs a little so the heroine was no longer even recognizable as the same person

since it was relatively early in the series i definitely would have preferred if they just got the new artist to actually redraw the first 18 chapters in the new style just so the change wouldnt be so incredibly jarring

chalcara

Any harsh breaks like that will cause some people to break away from the comic, I found. I dumped one of my favourite-for-years comic because the creator got bored by their main character and completely sidelined her in favour of a group of minor characters I had absolutely no interest in.

Didn‘t mean the comic got worse - by all accounts its still beloved by quite a sizable audience - it just wasn‘t for me anymore.

sagaholmgaard

Ahh that I can relate to. I get super attached to the main character and usually have a hard time getting into any spinoffs with the rest of the cast, even if I want to (and im a hypocrite because i also want to make spinoffs for ever side character in my own comic LOL) i guess if the style changed a LOT from page to page that would throw me off too. that feels like the artist is trying to experiment, maybe making sort comedic comic strips would be more acceptable then? Every style would at least be contained to one strip at least

DanitheCarutor

That's... actually a really good question. I don't really go for a specific aesthetic. Sometimes what's going on in the thumbnail attracts me, or it could be the use of color, the style, a character design. I'll check out a comic with just about any art style. I guess maybe if I have an idea of what the creator is going for with their art? Like, the art may have a lot of kinks, but maybe being able to tell what style they're trying to go for makes me want to check out their work? Honestly, I don't have a really strong art bias, as long as the comic is readable I'll go for almost anything. Maybe I won't check something out if the style looks extremely uninspired... like if it were the most generic, based off Japanese cartoons, style ever then I might give it a pass. But even then I do sometimes check it out anyway, so I really don't know! This question is surprisingly hard to answer! To give my last quip about last week's topic, since I don't want to derail the current one. I feel the creator's personal life is no one's business. I understand if they're a legit bad person, but digging into a creator's life to see if they qualify to be supported is... I dunno. This mindset makes me feel that if someone who liked my work ever tried to get to know me, they would be doing it solely to see if I'm good enough for them, which feels really invasive and predatory. I fully understand most people can't just enjoy something, that's how the world is, it just kinda sucks sometimes. The world kind sucks sometimes. Alright! I'm doing with giving my final thoughts on that subject.(edited)

Deo101 [Millennium]

The question is specifically about what draws you to art, rather than what turns you away so if you don't want to rag on any art styles that's not what it was asking for I think! Though yes it's very closely related (and it's not bad to say what you don't like)

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

I definitely am more likely to read a comic that has a distinctive style - no particular style preferences, really. Interesting use of colour/value is definitely a bonus. But as long as it's engaging and the composition is good/readable, I don't really mind whether the art is "good" or not.

DanitheCarutor

@Deo101 [Millennium] I wasn't trying to rag on anything. I couldn't specify what about someone's art would draw me to their comic, it was easier to the one thing that might not, but I still said that I may be drawn in regardless. Sorry if I came off like a douchebag, totally not my intention. <_<'

Deo101 [Millennium]

No I know, someone earlier said "I don't feel like dissi g particular styles" I'll be honest I was typing my post as you were and so I didn't even read yours til after I said something(edited)

Just kind of a general thing! Feels like it went to what turns us away instead of what draws us in so just kinda a reminder of the op

sagaholmgaard

Readability is definitely important for me to want to continue following a comic, but what about the art that makes me want to read something...? I definitely have a preference toward cartoony styles overall. A solid character design will make me wanna check out a comic. If the main character has a recognizable silhouette and interesting shape language. I also love really bold lineart, especially if it's used to create shadow and contrast. Interesting color schemes too. I think how the background is drawn can really make me want to read something as well. I know BGs aren't people's favorite thing to draw but to me if the setting looks very well though out and designed, that definitely motivates me to check something out. And awe-inspiring sceneries are always hella cool! I read a lot of things outside of my artistic preferences though, but I think these are the things that might make me pick something up based only on the art itself.

keii4ii

I think I tend to find more appeal in certain compositions, which is a more subtle aspect of style. I am a major sucker for evocative use of backshots/ not-showing-the-(whole)-face, for one thing. Compositions that make full use of the three dimensional space around the figure(s) is another (this doesn't necessarily mean putting a lot of stuff around the character; you can have a mostly empty space and still make it feel very 3D).

(I hope both of those things show in my own works... I just love those things soooo much )

Deo101 [Millennium]

Oh I LOVE when a panel like... Cuts a face. Something about it makes me lose my mind every time

DanitheCarutor

@Deo101 [Millennium] Ooh! Lol sorry about that! I was so caught up with off computer stuff that I didn't notice anything else typing while I was. I haven't read the whole conversation yet, but I can see how it would turn to that. "What draws you in" is a hard topic to stay on. At least I imagine it would be since it's hard for me to talk about.

Ah! I admit I really like shots focused on scale, specifically ones were you can feel how tiny the MC is compared to what the camera is focused on. Does that make sense? Like the panel shows this ginormous thing, and it has the MC in it to show how massive it really is. That's awesome when done right.

Deo101 [Millennium]

Tiny little person. Yes. Very good

DanitheCarutor

Tiny people in giant worlds are the best!

keii4ii

I love those too!

DanitheCarutor

Oh, also this isn't a webcomic, but I've been interested in reading Vinland Saga after seeing this page on Twitter.(edited)

Something about extremely hideous expressions on semi-realistic faces jives with me.

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

What draws me in easiest is the design aspect of characters, environment and the webcomic title! It's a bit of a turn off when the title doesn't look polished. That's one of the main draws for me is an intriguingly designed logo with a catchy name that follows through their chosen aesthetic. I've seen many comics that stand apart from the title image they chose and it's a bit jarring to see! Great examples of wonderful execution of these aesthetics are BlackOut City, O'Sarilho, Sink Your HookTeeth and Shadrunners(obvs there are many more) I have to agree with @sagaholmgaard about backgrounds! There are quite a few creators who avoid them and stick to simple colours and gradients that just dont keep me in the comic- though my fave genres include a lot of world building, so BGs in a romance may not be emphasized as much. Lastly, dynamic character design!! I love a wonderfully crafted cast that allows me to read the characters easily no matter what setting or outfit they're in. Also it's really random but i do love an artist who can draw really good shoes?? That is always a draw in for me (edited)

Capitania do Azar

Oh I meant it in the way that if you spend a lot of time experimenting with different styles and techniques, you'll never be good at any of them. Style and approach changing over time is, imo, inevitable and good :) @sagaholmgaard(edited)

@@FeatherNotes(Krispy) I constantly think my logo looks like crap next to other webcomics', so thank you (edited)

DanitheCarutor

Oh god, @FeatherNotes(Krispy). Titles and logos are legit my weakest point, that part of the comic creation process is the worst! I have this cosmic-horror/fantasy comic I've been developing since 2005, and it took me till just last year to come up with a decent title. It'll probably take another 14 years to come up with a passable logo. Lmao!

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

It is really hard! Because that image/logo and name represents the body of work so firmly, its also got to stand strong with what it's representing and stand up to other titles too! Basically, i like to think of something that will help generate top results when i search on google for the title, which to me helps it stand on its own on the web, and sound catchy enough for pitches in person! I don't want to steer the convo away too much from the prompt, but there is definitely more to discuss about titles and their chosen aesthetics

varethane

@DanitheCarutor have you read Golden Kamuy? If you love hilariously hideous expressions in manga, it seems like it may be your jam lol

(it's also set in a specific historical period and contains a lot of really interesting material about the time/place it takes place in)

Also I feel like I have never, even one time in my life, come up with a good title for anything-- both Chirault and Wychwood are placeholder titles that I used just to kinda name the story for myself, which I initially intended to change when something better came along, and then nothing ever did

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I know I'm generally drawn into a comic if it's just... generally a visual feast? And it doesn't even have to be a beautiful feast - just... a feast! A super intriguing artstyle, beautiful or not, is something for my brain to pick apart and enjoy. Detailed backgrounds, intricate costumes, fascinating presentation/layout... all the way to crazy expressions and fun asides, and even some gory or scary bits to make me go EEK. Basically, if I'm reading it, and my hand is twitching with the prospect of drawing fan art, then I'm in for good.

DanitheCarutor

@FeatherNotes(Krispy) Urg that is such a nightmare! And there are only so many different styles you can do for a logo, and so many variations of words, it's like how there aren't any truly original stories anymore. I got lucky with the title for my current comic, it's the most generic thing ever, but fits in a tongue-in-cheek way. @varethane I've never heard of it, but the face compilations I'm seeing are intriguing! Man, I love stupid facial expressions.

Capitania do Azar

@varethane golden kamuy, I see you are a fellow of taste as well

varethane

(I love it so much)

Capitania do Azar

@DanitheCarutor oh idk about the "only so many things you can do with logos", I've seen amazing things in this world, if there's a limit I'm not seeing it

varethane

(I can always tell exactly when I was binging it because there's a big chunk of my phone's photo gallery that's all screencaps of Asirpa making dumb faces)

Capitania do Azar

@varethane guys shooting each other in the woods? I'm always in for that

DanitheCarutor

@Capitania do Azar Lol I guess? I can't see how you can have an infinite number of designs for writing, while still trying to keep it vaguely readable. But I really don't like lettering, so my imagination is hardcore lacking in that department.

Capitania do Azar

Lettering and logo design are their own fields of expertise, it's ok

meek

Hmm I'm similar to a lot of previous responses where I can't pinpoint a specific style or trend of art work that draws me in because the styles of comics I read differ incredibly. That being said, there are some things that I do look for to keep me coming back: 1) Consistency of style/anatomy: unless there's a specific reason for the general art style to change (not including semi-deformed or chibi versions of characters), I appreciate characters staying proportionate or just otherwise consistent throughout the comic. And art evolution isn't something that's at odds with consistency, it can actually help that by making characters more distinct and easier to distinguish from each other. 2) Potential for art evolution: Almost the opposite of the previous point lmao but if I find a new comic and I see the latest page is of a much higher skill level than the first page, I'm immediately hooked. I want to see the journey. And I want to see how far that journey goes, even past the point where the art "gets good". There's at least one comic that I can think of where once it hit the style that it wanted to, the art has stayed consistent for the past several years but so much so it's almost plateaued and become stagnant. It's still good art, by all means! But I want to see it grow and evolve more. 3) Good panel/speech layout: Okay it's not quite art in the same sense but someone else mentioned this above and I think it's important too? There are so many comics I can think of that I couldn't read or I dropped off at a point because reading was a chore, either because of giant or unsightly speech bubbles, tiny or ill-fitting font, a combination of the two, etc. Sure, graphic design and layout is a skillset completely different from pure illustration, but it's one worth knowing because otherwise you could do a disservice to your art and your story.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

@meek Seriously, the text is so important to me, and I consider it a large part of page layout and design

meek

Agreed!! It's something that bothers me with printed comics all the time. I've tried to read so many "classic" graphic novels and I just.. I can't get past the giant text boxes with small font with miniscule kerning and ESPECIALLY if they then add color to it. Please, keep in mind your readers with reading difficulties But to turn this into a positive One of my favorite things that also helps make a comic feel more personal is when the creator turns their handwriting into a font or otherwise have FUN with the speech bubbles

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

YES. As someone with bad eyesight, typography is one of my favorite aspects of finishing a comic page.

Deo101 [Millennium]

It also is super important for me with ADHD, reading is hard enough as is! so bubble layout and clarity can really bring the whole thing together and elevate a comic

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I tried that but got the feedback that my text is hard to read and the way i format my speech bubbles is distracting (: But some people have said they really like it so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Though I do think I could have done better with the font. I have good eyesight and bad handwriting do I think i have a much easier time reading weird text than many. Since you guys care so much about text, would you mind taking a quick glance at my comic and telling me how readable it is? It'd be nice getting feedback from random people as opposed to only my readers who felt strongly enough to leave a comment unprompted

meek

Oh man I have this specific panel in mind from some early 2006 Avengers comic of like.. what not to do Basically it was a bright yellow text box with this white/light blue font. It was just. It was a nightmare to read Oh sure!! Definitely send me a link

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Yep! Send me a link too! I'd love to help you out

I also have a good typography book to recommend if you're interested. I can drop it into #art_resources(edited)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Here is link: https://www.webtoons.comen/challenge/puppeteer/list?title_no=290620

Thanks for taking the time to give me critique!

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

The link's not working, but I can probably find it on Webtoon

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

And I think i dould find a typography book interesting, so yes please do send the link

Sorry, i think the link is missing a slash

Did we both delete the link

Deo101 [Millennium]

did we both delete a

yah

i got it

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Lol

Deo101 [Millennium]

https://www.webtoons.com/en/challenge/puppeteer/list?title_no=290620

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Thanks

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

I found it

(The font is a bit small on mobile, but the font is fine?)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Wait can we move to shop talk?

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

(maybe we can have this discussion on shop talk channel? )

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

Sure

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

OH LOL

DanitheCarutor

@Capitania do Azar Oh god, they so are! I envy anyone who enjoys that craft, I'm a lot better than I was, but lettering is still so hard. ;v; At least the fancy stuff is hard, regular speechbubble lettering is easy as long as my hand cooperates.

Cronaj (Whispers of the Past)

There's a book I had to read for a web design course I took, and it is seriously a life saver

It put text in a whole new perspective

DanitheCarutor

I do all my lettering traditionally, but maybe that book would be helpful, I legit hate doing it no matter what medium I use. (sorry for continuing to derail the channel.)

Capitania do Azar

@DanitheCarutor i used a website that converts handwriting to fonts + font forge for tweaks to get personalised fonts

DanitheCarutor

I used to type bubbles out, and I've thought about it for my current comic but I mix up words and letters really bad, and I forget to add words entirely while typing. It wouldn't be so bad if my brain saw the mistakes while rereading everything, although sometimes it takes a couple days or another set of eyes for me to actually see them. When I write the bubbles in with a pen I make a lot less mistakes since it takes more effort to write out each letter, also my brain can keep better track of the ones I do make. I feel like that's an excuse that makes no sense.

Deo101 [Millennium]

no it totally makes sense

snuffysam (Super Galaxy Knights)

I can't say I'm ever especially drawn in by art? Besides the sense of "it looks like a lighthearted action story and I like lighthearted action stories", not much catches my eye. Though, I will drop a comic if I'm put off by the art. Like I can forgive if some things look janky at the start of the comic, but if that jankiness doesn't improve over time, I'll drop the comic. I'll also drop the comic if the character designs are bad (i.e. indistinguishable from each other, or in rare cases just too gross to look at). But again, I can't exactly say "good character designs draw me into the comic" because a lot of comic banners/thumbnails don't really show off full character designs.

chalcara

Varied bodytypes are catnip for me. And I like comics with expressive characters over comics that limit expressiveness to keep the characters pretty.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Oh, definitely agree with that second part. Comics where it looks like everyone has had a ton of Botox is a huge pet peeve of mine

Like, eyebrows are not the only part of the face that can move.

Do more

renieplayerone

Yeah i agree with the janky art thought. I think it helps me follow through the jank if i see that the later pages, the artist has shown growth, and i dont want to force anyone into a "gotta redraw it" loop if thats not something they want (of course everyone has their reasons and theyre also valid af) Ill tend to be more forgiving about the jank if i know its someones first webcomic or first comic in general, because you cant learn how to make comics without actually sitting down and making the dang thing. So yeah, the jank can be a double edged sword(edited)

What super draws me in is comics with a great sense of color. While i love anything vibrant, if the softer watercolors are done well, they're chefs kiss. Prime example of that is Stand Still Stay Silent

mariah (rainy day dreams)

I've been thinking about this question all week and I think I finally boiled my answer down to something short, sweet, and to the point. It's gotta be some kind of spooky and some kind of cute I have a pretty broad range of art styles I like and I definitely also read stuff that doesn't fall under those categories, but I think my favorite stories or artists are some blend of those two things. I don't really have a preference between color and greyscale. Like I definitely love a good color feast comic, but if you know how to use your grey tones or even just black and white well it's just as good for me. Maybe that's also just me trying to justify being mostly a greyscale artist to myself TuT

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

@mariah (rainy day dreams) devils candy would def be up your alley then!

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Devil's candy v good

renieplayerone

Devils Candy is amazing

mariah (rainy day dreams)

I love to combination of cute monsters and action also.

DanitheCarutor

@renieplayerone I'm not sure if it fits totally with your preference, but if you're looking for watercolor Lost Honey is gorgeous! https://www.losthoney.com/

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Lost Honey is another great comic great to look at, really interesting world

DanitheCarutor

It's one of my faves! ;v; There is another comic that was half watercolor half digital that I used to love reading (if I remember right pages set in the current time were digital, and backstory stuff was in watercolor.), but it has been discontinued for years now. It was called Toilet Genie/D00R, a comic about a genie who was locked in a public toilet and was awakened by a pug that got thrown out by her owners. It was so pretty, with such an interesting style!

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Oh wow I haven't thought about that comic in 5 years! X'D I didn't read much of it, because I don't think there was much of it available at the time, but yeah, that one was also very pretty (edited)

renieplayerone

Oh those colors are really pretty!!

DanitheCarutor

Right? Lost Honey is total eye candy. @mariah (rainy day dreams) Yeah, it's sad the creator never got to finish it. I think about it every so often since it's one of the extremely rare (semi)watercolor webcomics out there.

Also I'm extra attached to traditional mediums since I work in a traditional medium myself.

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Same. Got that ink wash/watercolor bias.

Eilidh (Lady Changeling)

My current comic is marker shaded but I so want to do something with ink wash after this one...

DanitheCarutor

Yeah, right now I'm working with color pencils since they're cheap but I want to give gouache or acrylic a try for my next project, depending on which story I do.

Kabocha

Hm, the question is... a lil' challenging to answer. I think in a lot of cases, the art isn't necessarily what gets me, but when it does -- Sometimes it's when someone uses a resource I like/made and I can go "OOOH! I know that thing you used!" Screentones are another one that gets my attention pretty quick. Sparkles... And probably effective spot color use. As much as I enjoy many full color webcomics, there are many that get tiring to try to read for one reason or another (usually it's either a font or a saturation issue - too many similarly saturated colors near one another gets tiring to read). Also, soft coloring. Oooh, just... when the art feels like it ought to be printed on those soft-touch covers... Yeah, that gets my attention. ...and watercolor/inkwash, too. ... okay that's a lot of things that grab my attention, but tl;dr: oh hey look at all that cool stuff that people can do!

mariah (rainy day dreams)

That was part of what was so hard for me thinking about this question cuz really, a lot of things get my attention X') and the more I thought about it the more I was like "I like when a comic is like X, but oh also Y is great and I do really enjoy Z as well!" I just ... like so many things. But I think that's better than being really picky. I've meet some folks that are super picky about art and basically only like one style and I'm just like... you're missing out on so many amazing things!

Kabocha

Right? And heck, even in some comics where the style would normally be unappealing (to me), there's just something about the art and the aesthetic that clicks to make it all work together for that project.(edited)

I do think, though, that there's always going to be a special place in my heart for greyscale or screentoned comics. There's just something about art that knows how to effectively make use of shading and contrast to make their work... well, work for me.

kayotics

Art is probably the first thing that draws me in to read a comic. The top, top tier thing that gets me to pay attention to a comic is really strong inks. I love inking, and unusual inking styles. To those who know me, that's probably incredibly unsurprising. I also love really angular styles. Some other stuff I gravitate towards: cartoony styles, expressive faces, and kind of ugly characters. I enjoy seeing characters that might be described as plain or are drawn in a bit of an ugly way. The last thing that draws me in? Hands. If an art style pays attention to hands, then I'm all for it.

mariah (rainy day dreams)

Does a comic have characters with big, crooked, toothy grins? I'm down for the count X'D https://media.tenor.com/images/618576ebcc4f6d2a12438624be77c54f/tenor.gif

varethane

oh hey, did someone mention webcomics done in ink wash/marker?

Chirault was that!

1367 pages of..... ink with greyscale marker..........

FeatherNotes(Krispy)

honestly blows me away that you toned it traditionally like, all of GJS is inked trad, but to ink AND tone in marker is just.....damn

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

I love ugly characters

RebelVampire

When it comes to art, I'd say there are about four factors that will draw me in. First, readability. Can I visually follow wtf is going on in the comic? I have no interest in the visuals if I can't understand what action characters are taking. So the first point is always for if that is true. Second, character distinguishability. Can I tell one character from another? I am notoriously bad even in real life at being able to tell people apart, so when reading for fun, it's super important to me that I don't have to put a lot of effort into telling characters apart (exceptions for identical twins, of course). Third, personal appeal. Do I think the art is pretty or cute? Like, obviously this is subjective so I can't really put into words why I'd find one style appealing and the other not. But ya know, I like stuff I think is pretty to look at. Fourth, backgrounds. If a creator puts a lot of effort into their background scenery, I'm very sold on it. I love beautiful backgrounds, and the effort put into them give me an overall better impression of the comic as a whole. Since it takes some real passion to take care with backgrounds. All this being said, I'm not much of a stickler for art. If a comic is well-written enough, they can fail all these points and I'll still read it. This is just a list of what aspects have to be in the art for it to draw me in.

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

My points are pretty much the same as Rebel's, with the addition of a few things: I adore comics with dramatic facial expressions and consistently excellent anatomy. Also, if the art style is unique? If I feel like I've never seen someone draw that way before? That's ++. So good. I've read comics where I thought the art was good but the story was mediocre, but I've never read a comic where the art met all my points (and Rebel's), where it made me go, "holy fuck," audibly, and then had the story disappoint. Comics where the art made me go "holy fuck" audibly: Excecutioner's Academy: The art is so pointy and colorful and detailed and weird. It's full of personality and life and so are the characters. Warning: hiatus comic ): https://tapas.io/series/Ex-Ac Ava's Demon: You guys know about Ava's Demon, right? With original music and animations ending every chapter, this might be the most effortful comic I've ever seen. https://www.avasdemon.com/pages.php#2611 Sfeer Theory: Everyone looks so different from each other, it's fantastic. Some characters are not conventionally beautiful, yet they're still so appealing. And backgrounds! And a thought-out and unique magic system! https://sfeertheory.com/comic/01-00/ Electric Bones: Backgrounds! Banter! http://electricbonescomic.com/index.php/comic/page-001/ I also loved Prague Race, but unfortunately it was cancelled ):

If anyone else has recommendations for comics with amazing art, I'd love to hear them!

Cap’n Lee (Flowerlark Studios)

For me, it just has to be an art style I like to attract my attention. I generally like realistic art, stylised art, or pretty much any style that hasn’t been done to death (like generic anime art; much as I love manga, I’m really tired of the over-saturation of bland and soulless anime-inspired art). Pretty much anything unique and well executed will grab my attention. I especially like greyscale and limited palettes.(edited)

And just to clarify, I do like anime-style art when it has expression and/or skill behind it; just not when it looks generic and manufactured. Overall, though, it’s the writing that’s ultimately the most important thing to me in a comic, so I’ll enjoy comics for their writing even if I’m not a fan of the art.

#ctparchive #comics #webcomics #indie comics #comic chat #comic discussion #comic tea party #ctp #reader favorites

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mysterioushogwartsrequests · 6 years

Note

OMG, I'm in love with your writing and I need more! I'd like to request a fix in which the MC is pregnant with Charlie's baby and suddenly goes into labour with only Fred and George with her. All three panic because they don't know what to do :)

Please remember this isn’t at all related to the Smugglers series so please don’t get confused with the timeline!

Also, this one might be my shortest work which is interesting, but I had a lot of fun writing this and I hope you all enjoy it!

Charlie Weasley and (Y/N) began their relationship during their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. They remained together as Charlie studied dragons in Romania and (Y/N) worked to become a formidable Auror under the wing of Alastor Moody, also known as Mad-Eye Moody.

However, after a painful and potentially deathly encounter Charlie experienced with a Hungarian Horntail, he decided it was time to finally marry (Y/N), a few months after leaving Hogwarts. The pair was still very young, but they both led dangerous lives and would rather be together before an unspeakable situation took place.

Eloping in August of 1991, Charlie and (Y/N) returned to their careers as careful as ever. Even though they were separated most of the time, Charlie always came home when there was spare time, making sure his wife was comfortable and okay during his absence.

(Y/N) would work long hours at the Ministry, occasionally chatting with Arthur Weasley about current events despite the fact they were in different departments. Outside of work, Percy always rang (Y/N)’s line, asking for advice on how to work at the Ministry, something he’d been dreaming of since he was younger.

Along with Percy, (Y/N) was always happy to help out with the Weasleys. Bill visited her often, making teasing remarks on how his younger brother wasn’t treating her properly. Fred and George were always demonstrating their new pranks to her while Ron and Ginny asked for magical advice since she was the one that discovered the Cursed Vaults during her time at Hogwarts.

During the summer of 1994, almost three years of their marriage, Charlie decided to take another break so he could spend time with his wife.

(Y/N) was ecstatic to have him home. They would prepare dinner together, take walks around town, visit their family and old friends. All things she did alone, but now had him with her for company. If (Y/N) was spontaneously summoned by the Ministry, Charlie would prepare her meal for the day and handed it to her as she went off for work.

He was happy to see her thriving and the angelic look on her face every time he woke up beside her. They loved each other very much and even though they were calculated and punctual, they were also sometimes reckless.

Charlie knew his Father had a flying car and decided it’d be a good idea to unwind with a picnic and a fly around town. Borrowing the car, he made all preparations necessary and awaited the return of his wife.

“Charlie,” (Y/N) called, “I’m home and I’m bloody exhausted” She sighed, dropping her bag on the marble countertop. Charlie descended from upstairs with a small smirk on his face, twirling the keys around his finger.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” He grinned, shoving the keys in his pocket, “Get dressed and we’ll go, okay?”

(Y/N) smiled and gave a small nod, running to change out of her work attire and coming out in something much more comfortable. Walking out to their garage, Charlie opened the seemingly normal car door for her. (Y/N) had solved many riddles in her life, but Charlie’s surprise was something she couldn’t decipher.

The picnic basket and blankets had been hidden in the trunk and Charlie had never mentioned his Father’s flying car. Well, after the car took off the ground, he had to talk about it.

(Y/N) began to laugh as they flew through the woods near their home, “This is amazing!” She exclaimed, peaking her head out the window, “It’s like a broom, but better!”

Charlie chuckled at her happiness as he flew to the designated picnic spot. Safely landing, Charlie opened the door for her yet again, pulling her to the area with an array of flowers.

“Wait here,” He said, placing a kiss on her forehead, “and close your eyes!” He exclaimed as he ran back to the car to retrieve the picnic supplies.

(Y/N) closed her eyes, enjoying the sounds and the wind coming from the area. She heard Charlie struggling behind her, “Charlie, let me help you” She said keeping her eyes closed, but Charlie was already carrying everything.

“No!” He grunted, attempting to set everything down, “I got it” He muttered. Yes, he could’ve used magic, but he thought the extra effort would make the date much more charming. After about twenty minutes of struggle and set up, Charlie took (Y/N) by the hand, “don’t open them yet”

(Y/N) nodded and let Charlie lead her to the spot. The aroma of freshly made bread and pumpkin juice immediately hit her nose and she couldn’t help but smile.

“Okay, open them” He muttered, a smile spreading across his lips as he watched her eyes light up. (Y/N) wandered around the setup, pillows, and blankets with their house colors on them, a picnic basket full of delicious desserts and the same sandwiches they used to enjoy during their school years.

“Charlie!” She exclaimed, running back to her husband giving him a tight hug, “This is wonderful, you’re wonderful” She whispered, running her thumb across his cheek.

Charlie wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close, “We haven’t been on a slightly reckless date in a while so I thought we could have a picnic, explore the woods, and camp out overnight,” Charlie said, “Just the two of us”

Charlie leaned in a pressed a soft kiss against (Y/N)’s lips. Charlie Weasley had always been the romantic type, showering her with handmade gifts since he didn’t have the funds to buy her some. (Y/N), however, wouldn’t have it any other way. His handmade gifts always reminded her of how he must’ve sat down and worked on it for hours which was worth more than a store-bought item.

After their picnic and stroll through the forest, Charlie and (Y/N) had retreated into their enchanted tent. Their intentions at first were to sleep, but the adrenaline provided by the area rendered them sleepless and they searched for other activities to pass the time.

Charlie threw (Y/N) onto the bed as she laughed, watching him crawl over her, pressing kisses all over her body. His hair had been pulled out of his ponytail and hung around his face, tickling her bare skin as he moved upwards, “I love you” He muttered, his lips latching onto hers as he laced his fingers with her’s, holding her hands on each side of her head.

(Y/N) sighed contently as Charlie pressed chaste kisses around her neck, “I love you too” She replied, pulling him down for another heated kiss.

The night in the woods was sleepless, but they wouldn’t have it any other way.

A couple of months after their secluded endeavor, (Y/N) found out she was pregnant. Her pregnancy explained all the random symptoms she had been experiencing and the news excited her.

Rather than telling Charlie by telephone or mail, she decided to travel to Romania and find him at the Dragon Sanctuary he worked at. Gathering a bag, she walked outside her home with determination, disapparating in the middle of the field.

Apparating in Romania, a somewhat difficult task since it was such a long distance and only skilled witches and wizards could apparate that far without splinching, she walked around searching for her husband.

“Calm down!” Charlie yelled, attempting to tame a large Norwegian Ridgeback by the name of Norberta. Norberta spread her wigs and sent out a loud screech, but Charlie and his team had managed to finally calm her down.

(Y/N) watched with glee as her husband worked, but once the coast was clear, she ran up to him and covered his eyes, “Guess who” she whispered into his ear and he turned around in surprise.

“(Y/N)?” He laughed, “What are you doing here?” He asked, pressing a kiss against her forehead.

“I’m pregnant” She announced, not being able to contain the news any longer. Charlie blinked in surprise, staring at his wife with disbelief

“You’re pregnant?!” He exclaimed and she nodded in response, “Merlin’s beard! I’m going to be a dad!” He yelled, picking up his wife and spinning her around happily.

It was now April and the baby would be born any day now. Charlie is scheduled to return home this week, hopefully before their child was born.

Hogwarts was on its Easter Break so Fred and George had graciously volunteer to accompany (Y/N) in her home, despite Molly’s pleads for her to come to live with them, just in case the baby was born.

Fred and George had just turned fifteen years old and felt rather grown up. However, all the lessons at Hogwarts could never prepare them for what followed suit.

The twins were playing around with brooms outside (Y/N) and Charlie’s home. (Y/N) walked around the kitchen setting up enchanted items, much like her mother-in-law, to do some cooking and cleaning since she had a hard time doing it herself.

As she walked to the porch, she felt a sting of pain shoot through her body, “Shit!” She exclaimed, clutching her stomach, “Now?!” She panicked, holding onto the front door.

“Fred and George!” She yelled and when the boys turned, the noticed her hobbled over holding onto the door. The two boys ran back, slightly panicked.

“Are you okay?” George asked and Fred’s eyes widened as he quickly figured out what was going on. He vaguely remembered how his own mother was during the time Ginny was born and this was exactly how it was.

“George call Charlie!” Fred yelled as he moved (Y/N) to a seat, “Uh we need to” He muttered to himself, running around the house trying to find a cloth he could wet.

George scrambled to the phone, dialing Charlie but it was sent straight to voicemail, “He’s not answering!” George yelled and Fred popped up from behind the kitchen counter

“Ring him again, dammit!” He yelled, turning on the sink and running back to press the cloth against (Y/N)’s forehead.

“I didn’t pack the bag!” She exclaimed, “I forgot about the bag!”

“What bag?!” Fred yelled, “Your work bag?”

“The overnight bag for the hospital!” (Y/N) replied, now fully panicked.

Charlie wasn’t answering, the bag wasn’t ready, Fred and George were running around the house screaming and yelling at each other about what to do.

“Why aren’t you calling Charlie?!” Fred yelled, shoving random items in a bag, claiming it was the ‘overnight bag’. George threw a towel at him in response,“Because he’s not answering, you twat”

George froze in the middle of the room and turned to his twin brother with an expression of pure fear, “What if we have to deliver the baby?” He whispered and (Y/N) let out another grunt of pain

“GEORGE!” She yelled, breathing heavily, “Don’t be absurd, I’d deliver it myself” She attempted to reassure, but it didn’t make the situation any better.

Fred threw the bag near the door and looked around the room, “Call mum!” He yelled, “She should know what to do!”

George ran back to the phone, but before he could make a call, it started ringing. It was Charlie.

“Hello? (Y/N), what’s wrong?” He asked, clearly unaware about what was about to unfold.

“Uh, this is George and I was calling because there’s something going on- No! It’s not bad, it’s just uh-”

A fed up Fred had snatched the phone out of his stuttering brother’s hand, “SHE’S HAVING HER KID,” Fred yelled, “GET YOUR ARSE HERE WE DON’T KNOW WHAT TO DO”

“Bloody hell!” Charlie yelled, scrambling to gather his things, “I’ll be right there!” With that, he hung up and rushed to his fire-place travelling back to his home in Scotland.

(Y/N) had closed her eyes and was leaning up against the chair, breathing heavily and with her hands over her stomach.

“Oh, Merlin!” George yelled, “Freddie, what if she’s dying?!”

(Y/N)’s head snapped up as she winced in pain, “I’m not dying, I just- ah!”

Fred jumped as she cried out in pain, grabbing the bag from the floor, “We have to take her to the hospital!” He announced, attempting to get her up from the chair, “Did you call mum?!”

“No! Charlie called and I didn’t-” George cut himself off thanks to Fred’s glare, picking up the phone and dialing his mother, “Mum, uh, (Y/N)’s having her baby and Charlie’s on the way so can you meet us at the hospital?”

The incomprehensible yells from the other line made Fred worried, even more than he was right now. But a wave of relief washed through the boys as a flash of green flames emerged from (Y/N)’s fire place

“Charlie’s here! Bye Mum!” George exclaimed, slamming down the phone and rushing over to Fred’s side who was moving (Y/N) to the fire place.

“I’m here!” Charlie announced, running over to his wife, “Let’s go” He said, pulling her and his twin brothers along. Fred grabbed the floo powder and held onto (Y/N)’s hand who was now squeezing it to distract her from the pain

“Saint Mungos Hopsital!” Fred yelled and the green flames engulfed all four of them. Suddenly, they were at the busy hopsital and the twins had run up to the desk, anxiously stating that their sister-in-law was in labor.

Charlie walked besides (Y/N) as they pushed her into a room, holding her hand tightly, “It’s okay, everything will be great and soon we’ll be parents”

(Y/N) smiled weakly as Charlie wiped the sweat of her forehead.

The twins collapsed in the waiting room, giving themselves a subtle highfive for what they accomplished. In a matter of minutes, the entire Weasley family was in the designated room, anxiously waiting for the new member of their family.

Even though the moments before the hospital weren’t as smooth as they could’ve been. (Y/N) and Charlie welcomed a healthy baby boy into their family, all thanks to the help of the prankster twins, Fred and George.

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