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jakdaw-arts · 3 months

Note

Info dump about your digimon OCs pls. 🥺

*chuckles nervously*

That’s a can of worms. Most of the digimon OCs I’ve got are connected with an AU story idea that’s been percolating for a Hot Minute. Main things of note about the universe are that there are no chosen children, no canon characters, the human-digimon partnerships are due to an online game that [reason pending] ended up slightly connected to the digital world, but the digital world has existed for as long as the real world. Humans in the digital world are converted to something closer to a digimon, and ones that die there are treated as digimon and get egg’d, losing their memories in the process unless backed up via a digivice.

That is all to say that there is so much rattling around my brain about this world lmao. Anyway. There are so many ocs in this setting that i’m just gonna pick a few of em to info dump about.

Characters:

Rush

Keemon > Yaamon > Impmon > Wizarmon > Reapmon > Beelzemon. Self-indulgent reality hopper. Sometimes breaks things and/or makes things weird by yeeting themself into a reality. That noodley little impmon I drew recently.

The purpose of Rush is usually to be a living macguffin. In this case, they jumped into this reality, splitting off a new timeline because of the Major Change of there being a person where before there hadn’t been. The rules of the digital world decided to be strict about the Weird Thing that invaded, converting Rush into data and having them solidify as an egg, sans memories. Memories slowly come back as they digivolve, they end up traveling with a group of humans with their digimon partners, shit goes down, eventually the day is saved, yadda yadda yadda.

Rush-with-memories is a fairly even-keeled individual, having bounced around realities and dealt with plenty of Situations. Rush-without-memories is an inquisitive creature with little regard for personal space and a whole lot of confusion, once they get past the just-vibing stage they were in as a keemon and yaamon. They have thumbs, an ability to set things on fire, and little regard for how squishable they are (they learn, and shortly after also learn how quickly they can skitter on all fours. thankfully, pretty fast).

Beelzebumon - The Ratvatar (don’t call him that)

Demon Lord. Similar vibes to the Beelzemon in Digimon World: Next Order. Demon lords’ cores exist outside the realms of space/time, with physical avatars in each of the realities that can ‘respawn’ after a time if they are destroyed. The demon lords’ powers are split up among their avatars, so adding a new split makes them eeever so slightly weaker. Beelzebumon doesn’t care, the rest of the demon lords are displeased. The ripple that happened with the split let him wiggle out of the dark area so he spends most of his time taking in the sights and occasionally watching the shenanigans that a bunch of human children in the digital world are getting up to. Might give them a helping hand in passing, if only out of amusement of derailing the plans of the other demon lords.

He finds the fleeing-from-danger impmon, who is less afraid of him than whatever was chasing them. He lets them tag along for a bit, vaguely intrigued when they talk about the bits and pieces of memories they’re getting back. When they come across a little band of humans he herds the impmon towards them so he can go back to his preferred state of mostly-just observing. He’s the first one to figure out the little impmon is the reason reality got a little wibbly wobbly and made a new branch.

Kai & Storm

Kai- Human that would very much like off this ride, please. (to be fair, all the humans want off this ride at some point) Storm- Kai’s partner, Puttimon > Cupimon > Patamon > Angemon. Just glad to be here.

Intended to be the primary pov duo. Sheltered religious kid figures themself out in the digital world whether they want to or not. Have I mentioned this bunch gets stuck in the digital world for years? Cuz that’s a whole Thing when they get out and they’ve all aged like five years in what seems to everyone else to be [exact time difference pending]. Kai takes a while to warm up to Storm, since they didn’t play the game nearly as much as most of the others that got dragged in, and *gestures at the whole impromptu long, dangerous camping trip.*

Storm just wants his human to be happy and safe. Once he’s able to maintain his angemon form for longer than the length of a battle he spends most of his time as that, since it’s big enough to pick Kai up and haul ass if something dangerous sneaks up on them. Which, due to the maneuverings of some grumpy demon lords that assume the humans appearing was the cause of the split, is a fairly common occurrence.

Lawrence

Agunimon. Previously human, died in the digital world, came back as a digiegg. Regained most of his memories with time, most comfortable in his agunimon form (fairly human-shaped, has hands... useful things). Pretty fly for a dead guy. Ends up playing a bit of a guardian role for the human gaggle, leomon-adjacent but with less dying. He’s still a pretty vague idea, but I just think he’s neat. Big ol armored fire guy with horns, being used as an impromptu jungle gym for a bunch of kids and their tiny digi buddies.

Otherwise there’s a gaggle of other human kids and their digimon partners, to fill out the “a bunch of kids who played this game at one point in time who happened to be close to/in contact with their computers and got yoinked to the digital world” requirement, most of whom are background characters. Plus some mature digimon that take some pity on the kids and help them out, and at least one more human-now-digimon that doesn’t much care to prod around for old memories and is quite happy with how she is now, thank-you-very-much.

I have... far less Actually Written Down than I'd like for this whole mess lmao

#jakdaw jabbers #digimon #oc!rush #oc!the ratvatar #oc!kai #oc!storm #oc!lawrence #reality!wrath of the demon lords

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nighthaunting · 5 months

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12 for the ask game :)

12. How far have you planned ahead?

Oh boy! So! It really depends on the fic?

Some things come to me as a coherent idea with a few scenes that I know I want to write, which generally end up as one shots if I don't get enough juice out of the idea to get more ideas. Picture Six Feet Freshly Dug being a good example of this, I tried to plan it out into a bigger AU and it refused to cooperate.

Other things I have lots of ideas for and manage to plot a generally coherent arc for, although of course I continue getting ideas and have to figure out if they work with the bigger picture or if they need to be separated off into other AUs or one-shots. A Well Wherein Serpents Are Coiled has spawned off several other AUs at this point (namely: AU where the system doesn't allow the plot divergence that allows SQH to take Binghe to An Ding, several AUs that are just me playing around with the concept of SQH being the 'creator' of the world and the isekai aspects, and the Elden Lord Godfrey-core AU which is just pure silly nonsense for my own enjoyment) are just sort of percolating in my drafts folder right now.

The current brain-worms eating me are actually Resident Evil AUs, one of which is definitely a one shot scene collection which I hope to finish today, and the other is a much lengthier AU which I'm currently plotting/writing and want to finish entirely before sharing.

#ask games #replies

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pricklerick · 3 years

Text

magnum opus

Quick disclaimer: I don’t usually post warnings on my blog, but I’m going to now - this is a ficlet/summary of a huge Rick and Morty story that I’m completely unqualified to write. DEAD DOVE; DO NOT EAT. Guys, this is dark. Trigger warnings for incest, underage sex, pregnancy loss, postpartum depression, attempted suicide.

I’ll preface by saying that this is a story that’s been bouncing around in my brain for a while now. But I don’t feel that I have the maturity or life experience to tackle the subject matter and do it any justice at all. These are heavy topics that have affected many people, and the last thing I’d ever want to do is exploit them, minimize them, or misrepresent them.

So, if you choose to continue, know that you are responsible for the media that you consume, and know that the things I write (or the perspective of the characters that I write) do not necessarily reflect my personal opinions.

Okay, that being said, have an angsty fic summary!

Morticia (known as Tish) and her Rick have been fucking for years. Tish knows that to Rick, she’s an easy lay - an accessible warm body at best. But to Tish, Rick is everything.

She’s seventeen, and Rick gets really antsy about an adventure to a universe where space herpes is airborne. He insists that Tish get a series of ridiculously painful alien vaccinations that leave her shaky and nauseated for a week. Tish puts up with it, because Rick gets what Rick wants, and Rick wants a very specific isotope of Nihonium that can only be found on Space Herpes’ Andromeda galaxy. Once Tish is feeling better, Rick drags her off to spend a single afternoon harvesting rocks. The whole thing goes off without a cinch for once, and Tish totally forgets about it.

But it’s not long before Tish starts feeling off again. She’s exhausted, can’t eat or sleep, and one night when Rick grabs her tits and squeezes just like she needs him to, Tish screams at the sensitivity.

Rick stops cold and just looks at her, that same look that he gives to a gadget that’s not behaving how he wants, and in that moment, something grows cold in Tish’s stomach.

She knows.

She takes test after shitty drugstore test, spends close to $100 at the gas station down the street. On her third trip, the cashier looks at her in undisguised pity, and Tish has to stop herself from punching him in the face.

“Rick, I think I’m pregnant.”

She doesn’t think, she fucking knows. Rick’s face stays carefully blank. He keeps tinkering with the android in front of him, the only sign that he even heard a quick blink and the subtle movement of the muscles of his throat as he swallows hard.

“Rick?” she prompts.

“Jeezus, Tish, I’m old, not deaf. Fucking heard you the first time.”

She huffs, lets her left hip rest against the countertop where he’s working, folds her arms across her chest to hide her shaking hands.

Rick sighs, swiping the goggles up so that they catch in his hair. “Not a problem,” he says evenly, carefully looking in any direction but to her.

Tish blinks. She’d expected… more. An explosion, a few curse words, hell, even some pointed fingers.

Rick is reaching for a drawer, pulls out a syringe that’s filled with a vicious purple fluid. “I mean, really Tish, there’s a whole— a whole multiverse of options out there. And you - you still insist on using fu-fucking horse piss!”

He’s coming at her with the needle. Tish’s body reacts before her brain even comprehends the situation, and she backhands Rick hard enough to send him stumbling. The syringe shatters on the floor, and Tish gasps, her hand stinging from the impact.

Rick is looking at her, both hands supporting his weight on the countertop. His chest is heaving. He spits blood, glaring at her, and Tish’s heart sinks to her toes.

"Fine,” he hisses. “You wanna play Mommy? Wanna tell your mother that you’re pregnant at seventeen? Knock yourself out, baby. I’ll fucking let you. At least nobody will think twice about your retard baby - you’re dumb as rocks, Tish, stupider than dirt. And when this crashes and burns, like I know it will, when you’re in over your head and you hate yourself and that little mutation of genetic material that’s percolating in your gut like a goddamn tape worm, you remember this.” Rick looms over her, leaning so close that Tish can smell bile on his breath. “You remember that Grandpa Rick fucking told you so.”

And in a swirl of vivid green, he is gone.

Weeks go by and Tish is as sick as a dog. Beth is too busy grieving the loss of her dad to notice Tish’s hollow eyes and vacant expression; in fact, Beth seems to blame Tish for Rick’s disappearance.

And she’s right to, Tish thinks.

Tish doesn’t say anything. She loses a lot of weight - her cheeks are hollow and her jeans hang from her hips. All the while, she replays Rick’s words over and over again…

You’re dumb as rocks, Tish.

Tish knows she’s sick in the head. It’s sick to fall in love with your abusive grandfather, and even more sick to sacrifice everything for your abusive grandfather’s incest-baby. Tish can’t explain it. She’s always been good for nothing - not much to look at, useless at school, no real talent to speak of.

And then, one night when she was thirteen, Rick drunkenly grabbed her hand and dragged her through a portal, and Tish found her purpose.

She was good at playing side-kick. Dumb enough to shield Rick from his enemies, just smart enough to do (mostly) what she was told, and unquestionably devoted. Like an animal, she overheard Rick say once. Throw her a treat every now and then and she’ll come running.But Tish had thrived with Rick, despite everything. She followed him, pandered to him, drunk-sat him, memorized all of his quirks and habits. And when she was fifteen and neither of them could deny the draw of their bodies any longer, Tish had given herself to him, had quaked and keened beneath him as he mapped her with his hands and lips and tongue…

Tish was Rick’s, as sure as she was anything, and Rick, Rick was everything. And now, she had a part of him. A little piece of Rick, growing inside her.

Rick and Tish, forever and ever.

Tish is stupid, but she knows this much - if she does nothing else in her life, nothing at all, she’s going to do this. She’s going to leave her mark on the world, her mark and Rick’s.

She’s going to have this baby.

Still, that’s a hard thing for a seventeen year old to articulate, and Beth is less than supportive. Tish says nothing. She just dwindles away until one morning, 84 days after Rick left, she passes out in the middle of remedial algebra and wakes up in an ambulance. The paramedic refuses to hear Tish’s pleas of “low blood sugar; I skipped breakfast,” and Tish finds herself ushered into the ER, complete with ass-baring gown and oversized hospital socks.

“Congratulations,” the idiot in the white coat says, hardly glancing up from his clipboard. “You’re going to be a mom!”

Tish tunes him out as he prattles along about ultrasounds and hyperemesis gravidarum and dangerously low potassium levels. He tells her that she’ll be monitored overnight, and that her parents have been notified.

She must have fallen asleep, because when she wakes, holy fuck, Rick is there, staring at her with glittering eyes. Above her, Tish hears the blip-blip-blip of the heart monitor as it speeds.

Rick’s eyes never leave her face, but his hand snakes under her blanket, searching. He skims past her cunt, pausing as if to linger there, but then settles northward, fingers slaying wide over Tish’s pelvis as he palms the barely-there knot that rises beneath the dip of her hipbones. Tish’s whole body trembles. There’s something feral in Rick’s eyes, something deliciously possessive about the heat of his hand against Tish’s clammy skin.

“You’re an idiot,” Rick tells her solemnly.

I know, she starts to say, but it comes out as a moan.

The secret is out. Beth is casually disappointed in Tish for “repeating the same mistakes,” but admits that she hadn’t expected much better from her younger daughter. Rick explains away his absence with a bombastic story, complete with waving hands and drunken sound effects, and things go back to normal.

Rick refuses to talk about the baby. Tish only brings it up once, to let Rick know that she’s decided on adoption. He grunts and shrugs, and that’s that.

But Tish notices Rick watching her out of the corner of his eye. When they’re on adventures, Rick seems to move a little slower, to make more space for Tish, and once, Tish swears Rick shifted his body between her and and a hostile Gromflomite, almost as if he were protecting her.

And the sex.

The sex.

Rick worships her body in a way he never has before. At first, Tish assumes it’s because her tits are a little fleshier, but that’s not it. Rick can hardly keep his eyes and hands off of her, is always eyefucking her in the kitchen at breakfast, or cupping her ass as he slides past her in the hallway. He catalogues the changes in her body with his tongue, undressing her slowly, even massaging her lower back after a grueling day. When she doubles over at the dinner table with round ligament pain, Rick is in her room that evening, massaging her belly with a special alien oil. When her jeans won’t button, he takes her to an intergalatic shopping mall. He bitches the whole time, but he parades Tish around with his hand on the small of her back, and nobody bats an eye.

Tish loves it and loathes it. She basks in the glow of the moment, then cries into her pillow at night. It’s stupid to romanticize these little moments with Rick. He’s capable of altruism when it suits him, but it’s not like he loves her or anything.

Tish knows that she can’t keep this baby - she can’t raise a child alone, and, selfish as she is, she won’t give up her life with Rick.

She can’t.

But this baby, Rick’s baby… it deserves more than a shitty life on a deadbeat, backwater planet.

And Tish can give it that.

So with Rick’s reluctant help, Tish selects an off-planet adoption agency that is willing to place humans. She interviews potential families in her spare time. “I have an appointment,” she’ll announce, and Rick will sigh, blast a portal into the wall, and accompany her to the office. He hangs around, hovering at her shoulder until the receptionist calls her in, and then he disappears without a word. When the meeting ends, Tish finds a portal waiting for her in the corner of the reception area, and Rick tinkering in the garage.

They don’t talk about it.

There are more things that I’d like to work in here, but honestly, guys, I’m just not gonna. This is a fic that deserves some real life experience and at least 100k words, and I can offer neither. I want to hit on Tish’s lack of self worth - at this point, she’s living for this baby, because she views it as an extension of Rick. To Tish, this kid is the only thing of worth that she has to offer the world, and it’s the fact that it’s Rick’s, not hers, that she thinks is important.

On Rick - he loves Tish, in his own twisted way. He’s not at all interested in the baby, but because Tish is, he’ll play along. The idea of anything happening to Tish is absolutely unacceptable to him, and he was totally monitoring her (and the baby) while he was away. He couldn’t help himself. That’s why he came back when Tish was hospitalized. He wanted to make sure that Tish wasn’t going to kill herself trying to have this kid. And he missed her.

I don’t want to shy away from the darker aspects of the story. Namely, the incest and abusive/unhealthy relationship that Rick and Tish have. I imagine Tish worrying about the potential for genetic abnormalities, and wondering about the ethics of addressing this with potential parents. Maybe she brings it up to Rick one day, and he immediately whips up a little gadget and scans their baby (I really like the idea of Rick performing an amniocentesis, but I don’t know if that’s a little too much). But either way, I imagine Rick saying, “She’s fine,” and Tish just bursting into tears, because their baby is going to be just perfect, and also, it’s a girl.

And Rick just kind of fingering Tish’s hair and tolerating her crying it out.

Pregnancy kink. Rick is a kinky bastard, and I think a huge part of him is going to be hella turned on by the changes in Tish’s body. She’s literally growing a part of him. His baby’s baby is having his baby. It’s fucked up and it’s science, and Rick is gonna be so here for it. I’m not a smut writer, but I would love somebody who is to just take this and run with it.

It’s going to start with sex, but eventually, the further along Tish gets, the more possessive Rick is going to be of Tish. Yeah, it’s kind of hot that his granddaughter is carrying his child under their family’s nose, but there’s probably a deeper part of Rick that is just screaming for acknowledgement and absolution. THIS IS MINE. SHE IS MINE. I want to see jealous, anxious, overbearing Rick. And as this thing forces them to confront some ugly truths, I want to see that possessive, kinky, fucked up side of Rick soften into something that’s more protective and positive. I want to see him openly praise Tish’s body, and then eventually, praise Tish. I want him to slow down when she needs him to slow down and create space for her when she needs space. I want attentive, careful, gentle Rick.

But guys, Tish is going to lose this baby.

She’s like eight months along and begging Rick for a real adventure. She feels good, and she’s tired of sitting on her ass. And some stupid little thing goes wrong. Maybe she misreads a situation, or mishandles a weapon, or uses the wrong code word. And she falls, or maybe she takes a bullet and then she falls.

But she loses the baby.

Tish is not okay. This is postpartum depression meets miscarriage guilt. She blames herself for losing Rick’s baby. For eight months, this is all she’s lived for. She knew that this was her one shot, her one opportunity to leave a mark on the world.

And it was Rick’s baby. The thought of destroying anything of Rick’s is just unbearable to Tish, and it’s her fucking fault. She is useless on an adventure, and more than that, her stupid body is useless, sacrificing her baby to keep her alive.

Rick is fine once he realizes that Tish is out of danger, so Tish tries to be fine, too. She takes a week or two of bed rest, but she can tell that Rick is uncomfortable acknowledging her loss, so Tish tries to let it go. She goes on adventures, forces a smile, makes herself get out of bed and come to meals.

Meanwhile, Rick is kind of coming to his own conclusions. I imagine him holding the body of his daughter and thinking how perfect she is, how tiny, and how she looks exactly like Tish. And that thought, the thought of this tiny little Tish that could have been running around on some planet… well, that stings a lot more than Rick thought it would.

I mean, he’s okay. He doesn’t need another daughter, and he sure as hell doesn’t need a great granddaughter. He looks over at Tish, resting pale-faced in an alien hospital bed, and he hears the blip-blip of the heart monitor, and he knows that he’s complete.

But still, he can’t help but wonder, and something in his chest throbs as he does.

But Tish bounces back as well as he could have expected. Sure, Rick sees the shadow in her eyes, but when she grips his hand and says, “Where are we going today, Rick?” he answers her, because that’s so much easier.

Tish is fucking drowning. I’m not sure what the tipping point will be, maybe just a tiny misunderstanding with Rick, or a bad grade, or a joke about teen pregnancy at school. But she’s done. She’s fucking done.

She tries to slit her throat in the bathtub.

Once again, she awakens in an alien hospital, and once again, Rick is staring at her with glittering eyes.

And he’s pissed.

“That’s the second time I’ve found you in a pool of your own blood,” he says. He’s gripping her hands too tight, baring his teeth and hissing. In the dim hospital light, he looks absolutely feral, and Tish is terrified.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers hoarsely.

Rick’s face crumples, and something inside of her shatters at his disappointment. “I’m sorry!” Tish wails over and over, tears running hot down her cheeks.

She’s sorry for everything.

Rick crawls into bed with her, monitors be damned. Tish is crying so hard that she can barely breathe, and suddenly, Rick is there, curling around her, tucking his face into her neck and burying his fingers into her hair.

“Shh, shh,” he shushes her. He holds her tight, murmuring senselessly in her ear as she babbles to him. It all comes out, all of Tish’s fears and failures, like the bursting of a dam. Tish couldn’t stop it if she tried. Rick never says a word, but his grip around her tightens, his fingers working little patterns into her skin as she speaks.

“Fuck,” he breaths as Tish runs out of steam.

“I’m sorry!”

Rick sits up. “Don’t!” he hisses, then looks away, as if ashamed. Tish tenses, but before she can respond, Rick reaches for her hand and squeezes tight.

“If I have to hear you say you’re sorry one more goddamn time…”

Tish bites back an apology.

Rick swallows hard, clears his throat. His fingers twitch in the way that Tish knows means he misses his flask. She notices for the first time that Rick isn’t wearing his lab coat. He’s still sitting up in the bed, gazing at the floor as if he can’t bear to meet her gaze.

“Do you know… Tish, do you have any idea - fuck. Don’t - don’t ever, Tish. Please, don’t ever make me do this again. I - I can’t…”

He breaks off, shoving a fist into his teeth and grimacing, and the image is so incongruous with the Rick Sanchez that she knows that Tish can’t help but reach for him. He pivots at her touch, and there are actual tears in his eyes.

“Tish, it’s you, baby. Just you. You’re… you’re the only - the only good thing. All the rest of it, the adventure, the science… It fucking doesn’t matter, okay? Nothing matters.”

Tish’s breath catches.

“No, you’re still not…” Rick makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “You’re the best thing I’ve ever done, the only thing I’ve ever... ever… Fuck!” He throws his hands in the air. “You’re... you’re my magnum opus, okay? You complete me.”

“Oh,” says Tish stupidly.

“Yeah, ‘oh,’” Rick mocks. He’s flushed, biting his lip and running his fingers through his wild hair. “I can’t believe… just, just, Tish,” he looks at her now, dead serious, “Don’t make me say it again, okay?”

Don’t make me lose you again. Please.

“Okay, Rick,” she agrees, crawling into his lap and tucking her head under his chin.

And like, things aren’t magically okay. It’s never a healthy relationship. Tish never gets over losing her baby, and Rick never mentions it again. But there’s something about Rick calling Tish his “opus magnum” that really satisfies me in a way that no fic I’ve read has yet. And I like to think that they are a tiny bit more open now, or at least, they know each other better. Tish might never have any self-worth, but she knows that Rick values her, and that’s the best feeling. And Rick is a little softer with Tish, and he never quite loses that protective streak that he picked up while she was pregnant.

#pricklerick original #dead dove #dead dove do not eat #trigger warning #all of the trigger warnings #seriously don't read this if you are triggered by pretty much anything #stay safe fam #i love you guys

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saiyanprince541 · 6 years

Text

A Capsulated Christmas

A/N: Merry Christmas everyone!! So here’s a sweet, funny and steamy VegeBul Christmas collab for my awesome friends @nekolover628 and @loveveggiehead (Neko's going to draw the cover art for it, which I'll link as soon as it's up hehe)! Hope you enjoy! ;) FFN version: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12771524/1/A-Capsulated-Christmas Ao3 version: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141614 A Capsulated Christmas

"Mommy?" The two-year tottered into her parents' bedroom, dressed in a powder-pink dress that was embossed with white lilies and had short bell-sleeves, over a snow-white pair of polyester PJs. "Daddy?"

The Prince let out a weary groan, his eyelids fluttering open. With as little noise as possible, he sat up from his bedside, wincing at the slight creak. He groggily rubbed his eyes and stared quizzically at the minuscule form, awkwardly standing at the doorway.

"I'm hung-wee." Bra whined.

Vegeta placed an index finger on his lips, tacitly urging her to keep her voice down, before cautiously clambering out of bed and tiptoeing towards the tiny toddler. He scooped her up in his arms and headed downstairs to the kitchen, not wanting to rouse Bulma from her slumber, since it was barely dawn. She'd come home late last night and they needed to prepare for Christmas, come the morning. The entire crew was invited to Capsule Corporation and a lot of work lay ahead of them.

"Alright, what do you want to eat?" The Prince asked, once he seated Bra in a high chair and fastened a polka-dotted, sea-blue bib around her shoulders.

"Gummy worms!" The child squealed excitedly, throwing her hands up high.

"No!" Vegeta frantically repudiated, with a horrified grimace, icy chills rushing down his strapping figure. "No worms!"

"No wormies?" Bra gasped, her bottom lip trembling and her large cerulean eyes beginning to water up, as she sniffled. The Prince was instantly wracked with alarm, knowing that any second now, his daughter would burst into a clamorous fit of tears, which could very well stir the entire city block to an unwelcoming wake.

"I- What I mean to say is that uh-" Darn it, he needed to think of something fast! "Gummies aren't a breakfast food."

"Weally?" The toddler suddenly went wide-eyed with curiosity.

"Yes." The tremulous Prince affirmed. "But aside from that, you must never eat worms." He added grimly, narrowing his eyes and positioning himself, so he was face level with Bra. "Worms are the embodiment of all evil and if you eat them, you become evil for three whole days and Santa doesn't give you any presents."

A tense moment of deliberation followed, after which Bra fervidly nodded in agreement.

"Okay, no wormies."

'Phew.' Vegeta inwardly sighed in relief, wiping off the beads of sweat dappled on his damp forehead. That went down a whole lot easier than he'd expected.

"Jelly babies?" The half-Saiyan asked.

"No, you mustn't eat those either." He cautioned. Gods, this spoiled girl was up to her ears in junk-food. Didn't she realize that stuff was bad for her? "What you need it a good wholesome treat."

"Ho-sum?" She narrowed her eyes inquisitively.

"Yes." The Prince nodded. "I'm going warm up some oatmeal for you."

Bra didn't know what oatmeal was, but it sounded pleasant and so she decided to go with it. The flame-haired warrior dropped a sachet of quick oats into a bowl, before pouring a cup-and-a-half of milk over it and placing it in the microwave, for a nice two-minute heat. Once that was done, he pulled it out, added three teaspoons of sugar, stirred and set it on his daughter's tray. She looked at him expectantly and he cursed under his breath. Couldn't this entitled brat do anything herself?! Vegeta begrudgingly gathered up a spoonful of porridge, softly blowing on it and proceeding to feed his voracious, blue-haired cub.

"Yummy!" Bra gushed in delight after having a taste. She avidly indulged in the rest of the sweet, savory goodness of the soft, steaming breakfast cereal. "More?" She earnestly asked her father, once the bowl was empty, an imploring gleam in her dazzling, azure eyes- Gods, they were just like her mothers. Unable to deny her, the Prince grumbled under his breath and prepared another serving of oatmeal. Ten bowls later, the ebullient baby was finally sated and Vegeta was an exhausted mess. Darn girl! How could she eat so much and at the same time, be so little?!

Vegeta was wiping the milky residue off Bra's chin with a napkin, when Bulma walked in and witnessed the breathtaking scene, instantly engulfed with an overwhelming deluge of warmth and giddiness, her heart fluttering towards the skies. Even after all these years, it was a rare pleasure to witness the more tender side to her sullen husband. She was going to announce her presence there and then, but before that she furtively pulled out her smartphone and took a surreptitious snap, tucking it away just as fast in order to prevent Vegeta from getting wind. The last time she captured him doing something sweet on camera, he'd disintegrated the hapless device.

"Merry Christmas, lovelies." She strolled over to the duo, a mischievous grin embedded on her waggish features.

"Mommy!" Bra bubbled, holding her stubby arms out. The blue-haired mother gathered up the tiny bundle, cuddling her close.

"Why aren't you in bed?" Vegeta glowered at his wife, evidently displeased at having been caught in such a compromising position.

"Well, I guess I'm no longer used to sleeping alone anymore." She gave him a naughty wink, whereby his face flushed a good three shades of crimson.

"Merry Christmas mom, Merry Christmas dad." Trunks casually sauntered into the kitchen, his hairy mussy and eyes half-lidded. "Merry Christmas Bra." The bleary boy beamed at his effervescent baby sister.

"Twunksie!" The toddler enthused and practically jumped into his arms.

"Whoa, easy there squirt." The older half-Saiyan was barely able to catch the pouncing girl.

"Merry Christmas Trunks." Bulma greeted, kneeling down and planting a protracted kiss on his cheek, to the boy's utter embarrassment.

"Mom." He protested, face turning beet red.

"Hmph." Vegeta sulkily shot his nose in the air.

"Well, I think I'm gonna sleep a while longer." The heiress yawned, stretching her arms out wide. "Trunks, would you mind looking after your sister for a few more hours?"

The lavender-haired demi-Saiyan was about to object, but the yearning look on Bra's face prevented him from doing so.

"Sure thing, mom." He sighed in resignation.

Bulma gestured for her husband to follow and so he trailed after her, back upstairs.

Nightfall...

Less than an hour remained before Christmas dinner. Bulma accoutred a lavish halter neck gown that fell down to her toes. Ornamented along the lower half of the ostentatious keyhole neckline, were a brilliant trim of lustrous diamonds, fashioned in an elaborate V-outline. She'd grown her hair over the last few months and fixed it up in a shoulder length blunt style, with bangs neatly fashioned on the front. Once she'd finished painting her nails a glistening scarlet, the heiress put on an open-toe pair of gleaming black stilettos. After pinning a matching set of silver, four-leaf clover studs to her ears, she was finally done sprucing herself up.

"God, you are looking hot, girl!" She preened, as she stood in front of the full-length bedroom mirror. The showy crimson garb was cut excessively high on the left-hand side, at approximately upper hip-level, revealing an obscene amount of creamy, mouthwatering leg skin. Vegeta's breath hitched, as he entered the room and ogled at the mesmerizing reflection of the vulgar seductress.

"What the hell do you think you're wearing?!" He demanded, at a mind-numbing cross between alarm and arousal, leaning more and more towards the latter, with each passing second.

"Like what you see babe?" She whirled around, raising a devilish brow.

"You- You're not seriously going to wear that, are you?!" The flustered Prince gasped, a stream of blood percolating through his burning loins.

"Oh no, I just put it on for the heck of it." Bulma sarcastically rolled her eyes. "Of course I'm gonna wear it, you dolt."

"That is the most indecent set of garments I've ever seen!" He growled at her, severely appalled. "And considering the way you normally dress, that's saying a lot!"

"Alright, I'll admit it's a little over-the-top, but so what?!" She frowned. "I look like a freaking goddess. Besides, you shouldn't be complaining." She smirked suggestively, ambling towards him and swaying her curvaceous hips, all the while. The sultry staccato of her high heels grew louder as she drew closer, right alongside the pounding thrum of Vegeta's accelerating heart. He stiffened, as the entrancing heiress wound her slim arms around his sinewy frame, pressing her lithe form against his. "The others may look if they want, but you're the only one who gets to touch. Consider it an honor."

"D-Damn you Bulma." He stammered, unable to resist her beguiling charms. From what little he knew, Christmas was meant to be a day of holiness and virtue, yet his lewd wife radiated with sin and sacrilege, no matter what day it was. She placed her glossy, bare thigh between his legs, teasing his hardening crotch. Any willpower he had left, quickly absconded from the dwindling recesses of Vegeta's mind, right alongside the last vestiges of breath remaining in his immobile lungs. As Bulma shifted her face closer to his, he docilely parted his lips, knowing that one way or another he was bound to surrender.

"You know, as much as I'd love to screw your brains out right now, we can't bear the risk of running late." She gave her husband an apologetic look, as a bitter scowl laced his grouchy features. "Sorry Vegeta, but it'll have to wait. Plus, I know how much you hate it when I smear lipstick all over that cute little face of yours." Winking impishly, she traced his M-shaped hairline with the tip of her nose, before exiting the scene.

The Prince seethed to himself, thoroughly vexed. Not only did stir his libido, but she had the gall to call him "cute" and then just up-and-leave as if nothing happened! It was like dangling a half-peeled banana in front of a ravenous chimpanzee and then leaving the poor creature to wither- not that it was appropriate to liken himself to a simian or his wife to a fruit. Unwilling to endure the excruciating agony of blue balls for the next five hours or so, Vegeta dashed towards the heiress, abruptly snatching her and whisking her right back into the bedroom.

"Hey wait!" She yelped, as he tossed her on the bed like a sack of rice and climbed on top, burying his nose within her ample bosom and inhaling deep. "Hold it, mister!" Bulma fulminated. "I had this outfit custom-made and I've waited months, for a chance to wear it! There's no way in hell I'm gonna let you ruin this one, you understand?!"

As the Prince rubbed his face against her plush breasts, he found himself to be rather allured by the charmeuse material, hampering his journey towards the prize that lay within. It was unlike anything else he'd come across. He suddenly felt as though the ornate gown was a part of her and he just didn't have it in him to blemish it.

"Hey, did you hear me?!"

"I heard you." He breathed rather gently and something about the way he said it, made Bulma's heart skip a beat, stomach instantly flooding with a bustling barrage of resplendent butterflies. It was then that she noticed him delicately running his fingers along the soft, satiny fabric. Realization hit her that he was drawn by the provocative outfit so much so that he refused to ravage it, the way he normally did. For long moments, the Prince alternated between trailing his hands and nose down her tantalizing, porcelain skin and the fascinating texture of the flimsy material covering it. Lower and lower he went, planting soft, lingering kisses on her thigh that made her whimper, a sharp surge of scorching desire flooding through her. "Take the dress off." He mumbled against her heated centre.

"Vegeta c-come on, we don't have time." She objected, in spite of all the base instincts screaming at her to jump his bones.

"Hey mom, dad- oh my God!" The lavender-haired half-Saiyan gasped, placing his hands over his mouth in shock, as he saw his father's face immersed deep inside the high-slit of his mother's revealing dress.

"Trunks!" Bulma shrieked, alarm bells blaring in her swarming mind, as she shoved away the desirous Saiyan's flaming head and hurriedly covered her exposed leg.

"Get out of here now brat!" A rubescent Vegeta yelled furiously, cursing himself for not having locked the damn door!

"Y-Y-Yes sir!" Trunks squeaked and instantly darted elsewhere, trying desperately to unsee what he'd seen. It was too much for his innocent young mind to take.

"Dammit, what the heck?!" The heiress scowled, bopping her husband's head, in admonishment. "This is all your fault!"

"What?!" He snarled in outrage. "That's bullshit! You're the one who smothered yourself all over me and then left me hanging there, with a stray boner!"

"Stray boner?! Why you-" Bulma furiously got to her feet and straightened out her dress. "You know what?! Screw you! I don't have time for this! I've got work to do!"

"You're damn right!" The wroth Prince ground his teeth, gripping her by the arms. "Your very first order of business is to finish off what you started!"

"I can't, darn it!" She hissed back. "We've barely got forty minutes left!"

"I don't care if we have ten minutes!" He seethed. "I refuse to walk around with an untended erection, especially if you're going to dangle yourself in front of me the whole time, wearing that!"

"You- freaking- ugh goddamn you." The heiress sighed in surrender, louring at her mulish husband. "Fine, go the shower-room and I'll give you a hand-job. Happy?"

"What?!" He protested. "No way! As if that'll be enough to-"

"Look, I don't have time to primp myself all over again!" She snapped. "It's a hand-job or no job. Your choice."

"How about a blow-job?" He asked, a hopeful gleam in his rapacious, ebony eyes. Gods that cherry lipstick of hers was to die for! Just imagining those glossy DSLs wound around his hankering phallus, as she leisurely sucked away, made him want to spurt right on the spot.

"How about a fucking slap across the face?!" She ruddily fumed, whereby her husband flinched in a rare display of fright. "You know, you're such an asshole! You don't like me rubbing lipstick on your face, but you're more than happy to have it on your cock, right?!"

"That's because no one can see my-"

"You're right, they can't see it." Bulma cut him off. "But they can still see my lips and believe it or not, sometimes it's pretty obvious when a girl's hitting it below the belt, especially with a cock as big as yours."

"Okay, okay fine!" He quickly relented, blushing profusely at her shameless evaluation of his renowned length. "But you'd better not rush this. I want this to last for at least a good five minutes."

"Well if that's the case, I suggest you stop talking and get your ass inside, cause the clock's ticking."

Not needing to be told twice, the Prince rushed into the door nearby, Bulma hot on his heels.

"Hey, I've got an idea." The heiress grinned. "Something that'll make this way more fun. Hold on a second." She went back into the room and brought her I-Pad over.

"What's this for?" The Prince asked, crinkling his brows.

"Last month, I had a private photo shoot done, during my trip to North City and- well- let's just say I didn't have any clothes on."

"What?!" Vegeta sucked in a breath, his face going beet-red. "How could you show yourself to others like-"

"Relax, Vegetables." The heiress rolled her eyes. The Saiyan scowled at the vexatious sobriquet. "The photographer happened to be a woman, so you've nothing to worry about- although now that I think about it, she may have shown a little too much interest." She let out a few tremulous laughs. "Not that I can really blame her of course hehe."

"Whatever, stop talking." Vegeta growled, snatching her I-Pad. His eyes practically bulged out of his sockets, as he sifted through indecent images of his wife, one after another. How could she depict herself like that- to anyone?! Despite any objections he may have had, however, he had to admit that it really got his gears rolling. He decided that this would make good jerk-off material, whenever Bulma wasn't around- not that she needed to know of course, else he'd never hear the end of it.

"Alright I guess it's time." The raunchy heiress went behind her husband, caressing his protruding pectorals with her dainty left hand, while her dexterous right brushed his washboard abs. She marvelled at the way his skin prickled in response to her tantalizing touch. After all the years, her effect on him hadn't mitigated in the slightest. "Whoa, that one's crazy hot." Bulma sensually murmured in Vegeta's ear, as he came across a shot of her stretching her toned leg high into the air, a perfectly straight angle lined along her crux. The Prince's stomach wound up tight, at the sultry sound of her titillating voice in conjunction with the alluring image. "Keep going." Vegeta did just that, eyes glued to the screen, as he flicked through the erotic gallery with a trembling finger, heart racing all the while. Most of the poses were rather simplistic variations of her lying on the sofa and coyly peering into the camera, but what really aroused him was the way she would cover her forbidden areas, in some mock-semblance of modesty- as if she even knew the meaning of that word.

The heiress embarked on a steady journey towards the South and finally slipped her hand inside Vegeta's grey, drawstring pants, wrapping her nifty digits around his engorged length, whereby he let out an amorous groan of pleasure. Slowly, she began stroking back and forth, kneading just the right spots. The Saiyan's onyx eyes fluttered, as a white-hot current of electricity jolted through his throbbing staff. Oh God, did he even need the I-Pad anymore when he had the real deal working him towards the heavens?! Bulma ground herself against him and he ran a hand along the galvanizing length her naked leg, reveling in the invigorating feel of her perfect, porcelain skin. Oh God, he wanted to do so many things with her right now, but sadly time wouldn't allow it.

A short while later...

"That was- rejuvenating." The placid Prince let out a rare, euphoric laugh, as a volley of endless endorphins swam along the cooling thoroughfares of his tranquil bloodstream.

"This isn't fair, you know." Bulma grumbled peevishly, arms akimbo. "You've been thinking about yourself the whole time, but now you've gotten me all hot-and-bothered and I can't do anything, cause the gang'll be here any minute now."

"Hn." Vegeta was barely listening, instead reveling in the jubilant aftermath of the stimulating session.

"You owe me big time, Vegeta." The heiress frowned, a determined look on her face, which tacitly said that a debt was owed and that she would be collecting. "Once the party's over, you're gonna be my personal fuck toy for the entire night, you got me? You won't even be allowed to breathe, without my permission." She resolutely vowed. "I swear to God, I'm gonna do unspeakable things to you!"

"Do your worst." The Saiyan grinned, readily accepting her demand. Gods, it was so hot the way she took charge like that, this fucking sexy bitch. At times like this, he wondered how he'd ever endured life, without her.

"Oh I will, don't you worry."

Not long afterwards, Bulma and Trunks were finally done decorating the Christmas tree with a colorful set of glistening stars, bells, baubles and other trinkets, all linked together with a gleaming, gold tinsel.

"Uh, mom?" The tremulous boy asked.

"What is it, sweetie?"

"I- uh- I was just wondering." He anxiously bit his lip. "What was dad doing to you in the bedroom, earlier?"

"Trunks, I really can't talk about it." She answered sheepishly, face flushed. "You see, it's a grown up-thing. Please do me a favor and forget whatever it is you saw."

"I'll try." He awkwardly mumbled, following a pregnant pause, hoping against hope that he could rid himself of the disturbing images flitting across his tormented and traumatized mind.

Seconds later, Vegeta walked by, holding Bra in his arms. The baby turned towards her mother, gaping in wonderment.

"Mom so pwitty!" She rhapsodizded, grinning wide.

"Aw thanks pumpkin." Bulma patted her cheek. She was going to kiss her, but then remembered that she had lipstick on and that wouldn't be good for either of them. Just then the doorbell rang and Bulma answered it, met by Krillin and co. on the other side.

"My God, Bulma." Eighteen gasped, as she slowly looked her up and down, drinking in the stunning, spellbinding sight of her dreamy, divine dress and the alluring anatomy that came with it. Boy, if she weren't hetero she didn't know if she would have the willpower to hold herself together in a situation like this. "You always did have a striking sense for fashion."

"Thanks L." She winked, bubbling inwardly at the praise. The heiress had recently taken to calling the once-human "L", in reference to her birth name, Lazuli. Eighteen didn't object. With an embrace, she led the cheerful family inside. The guests began rolling in one after the other, all mesmerized by Bulma's grandiose gown.

"Wow Bulma, that's an amazing outfit you got on." Videl remarked, in absolute awe. "Makes you look at least fifteen years younger."

"Thanks Videl, you're looking really hot yourself." She grinned. Her sexual frustrations from before were steadily forgotten, as she revelled in the major ego-boost she received from each and every one of her friends. The sexy scientist knew then that she'd definitely chosen well.

"Gosh Bulma, just seeing you right now, I kinda wish that I hadn't let Vegeta snatch you away from me, know what I mean?" Yamcha jested.

"Hey Bulma, you're looking mighty fine there, kiddo hehehe." Master Roshi grinned lasciviously, his prurient gaze fixated upon her exquisitely enticing bust. "I just wanna get my hands all over-"

"You want to die old man?!" Vegeta snarled, pinning the terrified Turtle Hermit to the wall, his flaming head of hair turning gold of its own volition, eyes a deathly teal.

"E-E-Easy there, V-Vegeta." The ribald geezer stammered, panic-ridden rivulets of perspiration streaming down his forehead, as he was beset with unabated horror.

"You'd better keep your eyes to yourself, unless you wish to be emasculated!"

"Okay, okay!" Roshi frantically waved his hands in surrender, not wanting to lose the most treasured chunks of his anatomy.

Other than that unfortunate incident, the event had gone by rather smoothly. Come dinnertime, a resplendent selection of dishes were lined up along the centre of a long, oaken, refectory table: grilled mackerel, barbecued t-bones, chicken wings, breast fillets and thigh fillets, fried eggplant with a side of marinara, wonton noodle soup, shawarma, pho and a giant, oven-baked turkey, enriched and marinated with the finest seasonings known to man. As they crew basked in the mouthwatering meals before them, a series of conversations were struck up, smiles and laughter ringing across the genial atmosphere of Capsule Corporation.

"Hey Trunks, you're been acting weird all day." Goten frowned at his best friend once dinner was over.

"Sorry Goten." The lavender-haired boy blushed, standing in a corner all by his lonesome. "It's just- I think I saw something that I wasn't supposed to see."

"Really?!" Goku's youngest perked up, in excitement. "Was it a big scary monster?!"

"No, you idiot." Trunks snorted. "Seriously, is that all you ever think about? God, you're such a child." He rolled his eyes. "Anyway, this is kind of awkward, but- uh- have you ever noticed your parents doing anything- you know- weird?"

"Gee, I don't know Trunks." Goten tilted his head up, musing. "But now that I think about it, I did hear some strange noises coming from their room the other night."

"Oh."

"Yeah, I asked mom about it and she told me that it's a grown-up thing."

"That's exactly what my mom said." Trunks sighed.

"Hey, I've got it!" Goten grinned. "They were probably fighting monsters together, in secret!"

"Uh- yeah, maybe I guess." The older half-Saiyan let out a guilty chuckle, somewhat glad that at least his younger counterpart was able to preserve his innocence.

"Wow, that's so cool!" Goten enthused.

"Uh huh, that's one way to put it."

Supper never failed to cheer up Trunks, no matter his mood and this time, it was no different. Strawberry trifle, flan pudding, creme brûlée, fresh glazed donuts, millie crepes, black forest cake and cookie dough ice-cream were on the menu, along with a vibrant variety of other dessert specials, all of which made the demi-Saiyan overlook his horrible, harrowing experience. As he indulged himself, Bra came along and he placed her on his lap, sharing food from his own plate with the giddy girl.

"Wow, you actually got me something, Vegeta?" Goku beamed, as he graciously accepted the present being offered up by his cantankerous rival. "That's a first." He untied the red ribbon and began to open up his gift. "You know, it amazes me how much you've changed over the years, especially since- AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH!" The Saiyan abruptly yawped, tossing away the object before him as though it were an unpinned grenade and huddling fearfully against the farthest corner he could find. The other crew members looked on in bafflement, wondering what could've triggered such a frightful response from Earth's dauntless hero.

"Oh." Gohan was the first one to put the pieces together, as he noticed a giant syringe inside the box that his father had just thrown.

"That is not funny Vegeta!" Goku groused indignantly, though his flame-haired rival felt otherwise, clutching his stomach and guffawing loudly at the younger Saiyan's expense. Vegeta's mirth was practically contagious and very soon, the entire clique was howling with laughter, well- except Goku of course, who glowered at the lot of them. How could they treat a legitimate grievance, so facetiously? Didn't they realize how dangerous and horrific those needles were?! He still had nightmares to this very day, following his traumatic experience at Wukong Hospital.

All in all, it turned out to be a wonderful day for the motley bunch. The farewells were delivered and the guests left the capsulated complex, smiling and sated. And now came Bulma's piece de resistance. The enlivened heiress was thrilled and overjoyed at the prospect of having Vegeta to herself for the rest of the night. He was hers to do with as she pleased and oh boy, did she have some wonderful, kinky ideas in mind.

A/N: Gotta say, I really enjoyed writing the Vegeta/Bra stuff, but also the family moments in general and let's not forget Bulma's handiwork, if you know what I'm Saiyan xD. Please leave me your thoughts and hit the review button and be sure to check out NekoLover628's awesome art, for she is a very fine artist indeed! :D

#christmas #Merry Christmas #vegebul #vegeta #bulma #bra #bulla #dragon ball #Dragon Ball Z #fanfiction #humor #fluff #santa

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katsitting · 7 years

Note

Enchanting

Ship: Tomarry

Warnings: Tom and Harry are in elementary school and this is an all Muggles AU. Please excuse any typos.

This is probably the fluffiest thing I have ever written so far. I hope you enjoy! It is not necessarily something I write often.

————————-

The first time Tom had laid eyes on the boy, he had thoughthe was coming down with something. His chest felt unusually tight, almost as ifeach lung had been submerged in water—drowned by the weight of condensation andsteam building in his chest.

The boy was small, smaller than most of the boys in hisyear. Tom had thought it odd that someone their age could be so frail, thedelicate width of his wrists something Riddle could easily wrap around with oneof his own hands. It was perhaps that alone that made Tom approach the boy—togo out of his way in this hellhole of a school after spending years building a reputation.

No one would ever question his decisions, not after hecrushed the boy that stood above the food chain several weeks into the semester.Tom had wormed his way in—played the docile and charming boy until he hadacquired quite the position of trust in the inner circle of the popular group.

It was easy to fool them—Tom did not spend years dancingcircles around the matron at the orphanage only be thwarted from somesnot-nosed brat. Tom, despite living with a new family would not lose his touchnow—it was a usual skill he had sharpened into a point over time, it would beremiss of him to forget the life beaten into his skin. This new arrangementworked well for him—the new parents would get a new son to boast about to theirpathetic friends, and Tom acquired a place where he had a warm bed to sleep inand a decent meal at the table.

It was a convenient arrangement and Tom played his role remarkablywell.

So it was easy to approach the new boy, enraptured by thedisarray in the boy’s attire. It looked much too big for him—nearly three timesthe boy’s size. It billowed around his frame like a dress almost, and it said alot about the life the boy must be living at home.

Tom remembered the gray uniforms the matron would force themto wear—patching at the holes until the material could no longer sustain theabuse and the wear of time. It was similar to the gaudy material the boy waswearing now even if it was not an eyesore gray, and Tom could not help thecuriosity burning in his brain.

Just who was this boy? Tom could not recall ever seeingsomeone like him at the Orphanage. Tom would assuredly remember had he seen theboy before. He made it his business to leave no stone unturned, no faceunknown. To have knowledge was to survive in the orphanage, and that was nodifferent here at school. Though, what Tom really could not understand was hisfascination with the child. The boy only a few years his minor was unremarkablefrom what he could see at a distance. But there was just something about him that made it difficult for Tom to ignore—therewas a glow to his skin despite how unusually gaunt he looked; how brittle hisbones appeared and how weak at first glance.

The boy looked like a broken doll, but there was fire him. It was unmistakable to seethat energy percolating in the boy with the purpose he moved. Sure, he wasadmittedly a bit skittish, but he did not run from others. He walked amongstthem as if he had all the right to be standing in the halls with his muchtaller, and healthier peers.

And it became even more readily apparent the closer Tomapproached, nothing the ease in his shoulders where he was standing by theporch beam. But when Tom finally was mere feet from the boy and the boy turnedto face Tom, Tom was struck once more.

Tom felt the breath leave his lungs, the same twistingsensation now dropping to the pit of his stomach as he tried to make sense ofjust what this foreign feeling was. It did not abate no matter how much Tom triedto quell it, and he felt a growing sense of irritation itching at his skin athis inability to control himself.

Of course, Tom’s carefully crafted mask was kept perfectlyin place.

“Hello there, have never seen you before?” Tom murmured thewords easily, curling his lips into a small smile at the boy despite the boy’sgrowing look of confusion. It was the most fascinating thing Tom had everseen—he was used to anger and fear, but not to this strange flurry of emotionon the boy’s expression.

The boy looked a cross between confused and surprised.

Tom noted the way the boy’s mouth opened and closed rapidly,as if he were trying to say something but caught himself each time he waspreparing to answer the simple question. Tom could not help the mountingamusement in his chest, soothing the irritation he had felt earlier at theutter helplessness in his discrete reactions.

“My name is Harry Potter. I just transferred over, thatmight be why you’ve never seen me before.” The boy’s voice was clear, all tracesof his confusion gone and replaced with a confidence that seemed to only amuseTom further.

Interesting.

“My name is Tom Riddle. It is a pleasure to meet you,Harry.” Tom was surprised that he actually meant it, not quite understandingjust how a perfect stranger could have gotten such a reaction out of him.

Tom had only ever felt close to the snakes he found whileplaying outside at the orphanage—he never felt this comfortable with humansbefore. It should have concerned him to feel this at all, but he ignored itentirely when the boy’s eyes brightened at the pleasant answer, the warinessTom had noted in Harry’s shoulders melting away.

The boy’s eyes seemed to burn Tom’s insides—the emerald inthe iris like that of the garden snakes he had played with numerous times whilewaiting for the day to crest into evening. There were specks of gold in there,mingling with the green so perfectly that Tom could not find words to speak.

He was dumbstruck by how expressive the boy was—how alive this boy Harry was despite howweak the boy clearly looked. Harry looked like someone that could readily breakif pushed too hard, like his bones might snap if bumped into too hard in a gameof hide and seek.

Tom could not help but want to smother the child into hisarms, wanting him all for himself. No one had ever looked so happy to see Tombefore—everyone was either afraid or hateful. There was never an in-betweenwith the children even if he was perfectly polite and charming. They either sawTom as the threat he was, which they most definitely should, or as a stuck upknow-it-all that had no place in the little world they had created.

But with Harry, Tom could start over. The boy did not knowhim.

It was an opportunity to start a fresh beginning—not needingto employ more…aggressive tactics to get the boy to interact with him. Theprospect of this, admittedly, was exciting for Tom.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Tom. You’re the first person totalk to me since I started here.” Harry blushed up at Tom, the color making thegreen of the boy’s eyes glitter more brightly underneath the glow of themorning sun.

Tom could not help himself at all when he took the boy’shand in his, reveling at the way Harry’s smile seemed to widen into a pleasedgrin. Harry did not detract as Tom first assumed—it was definitely pleasing.

Yes, Tom thoughtto himself, as he maneuvered the boy into the school, his hand still tightlywrapped around Harry’s. Things woulddefinitely be much more interesting now.

After all, Tom had found quite the enchanting friend.

#tomarry #Muggles AU #this is honestly really cute #Never thought I was capable of this #hollyjinx #I did a thing #one word prompt

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sbcafe · 7 years

Text

Mini-Concepts

So I wanted to show you all some of the games that I started working on while I was also developing Space Shooty 2016. As with all game creation, there's a gathering of ideas, and sometimes you have to just stop working on the main project for a little while and see what sparks the imagination!

Some of these games might be further developed, some of them have been stalled for quite some time. But I've had a long run of games just percolating in my brain and each one has its challenges. Sometimes it's a solution that's so simple that the function is already hard-coded into the program (as I discovered so frequently when making Space Shooty 2016). Sometimes, though, it just requires a little digging and Googling to find the solution - or at least something relatively similar that you can figure out the rest.

When I first got the Game Maker software, one of the first games I actually wanted to emulate was a game similar to Manic Miner. I used to play a game on the Commodore 64 called The Dark Tower, and while it shares the same title as a Steven King novel, there is no relation. In that game, your character is turned into an egg-like creature and is forced to collect gems in a number of stages. I have never completed more than 10 of these stages as I was never good with the game but I liked the music.

I decided to try my hand at designing something in that vein. I simply called the game "64Walker" and tried my hand at making a Manic Miner-type game. I got as far as building a character, controlling him, and creating some unique monsters that simply walked back and forth. I looked to @davidxn's creatures in Crystal Towers 2 at this time to see how they managed to have so much variety over the varying terrain and yet never walked off the edges.

I built a Crab Race game that I created over the course of a weekend. Based on an actual Crab Race and created based on the memories of creating a similar program back in the days of the Commodore 64 (and yes, I'm dating myself!) It technically does not rely on any user input, it is a decision maker or friendship-breaker as I define it. I want to work on this one and offer a one-time purchase so that you can add more crabs and change the names, so that you can go from a 2-crab yes/no decision, all the way up to a 12-crab decision with custom names of who should be picking up the dinner bill.

Firefighter was another design that I just wanted to see how much I could build into a small codeset. Fires randomly explode on the screen and you tap your finger to spray some water on them. You can also spray water just onto the ground and puddles would form. It was a simple collision engine that looked at every object and determined if water touched fire, and if so, both decreased in size. But, like real fires, they could spread and multiply if they weren’t dealt with quickly...

Munchie Mix was a experimental project. I wanted it to be a Curiosity piece, where it would not have any instructions but let people discover things along the way. I built this one in a night when my wife was munching on ...well, Munchies so that's where the sprites (munchies and the bowl) and concept came from. I don't want to say too much to spoil the discovery of the program :)

I also tried my hand at a little Procedural Generation. However it's not "perfect" and the code is rather lengthy (and looking at it now, it doesn’t really work at ALL), but what I have is that each block looks to the other blocks immediately to the north/south/east/west and determines if a path is possible. If I wanted to I could probably remake this one fairly cleanly, but I need a reason to build something procedurally-generated.

Morning Ritual was a game that came from me doing a "Ludum Dare" on a weekend when I was just getting settled into Game Maker. I stayed at home and focused on making a game around the concept "Ritual", and I went with "making coffee" -- I never entirely finished it but I intended the game to get faster and faster the more cups you played, and it would get more and more jittery as you imbibed the caffeine. Yes, that was supposed to be a coffee maker. XD

Robot Rebel was another project I'd like to revisit in the future. I wanted to create something for my nephews and niece who are enraptured by Space Shooty 2016. I wanted to make a game where you had to control a robot, LOGO-style ("Forward, Forward, Turn Right, Forward, Pick Up Ball") and therefore had to set up a Programming scheme. I realize that programming a Programming Language is HARD. I also make it more complex by introducing a Robot that would willingly ignore steps and you had to work around his self-destructive tendencies!

Shooty Idle is a followup in the Space Shooty universe where the Shooty Ship goes and mines asteroids. You can use the metals refined from the asteroids to build new components to your home base, which would include additional storage, additional fuel tanks, and even additional spaceships to help you mine more asteroids. As you can probably tell from the name, it's an "Idle Clicker". I've run into two roadblocks with this one: How do you test a game like this which is dependant on waiting, and furthermore, how do you handle numbers higher than the 64-bit integer that is restrictive of modern-day computers? These are questions that I continue to work on during my downtime.

(I also just found a Game Maker extension built for solving the 64-bit question.)

And finally, Wander About came about from an idea that @ravenworks had. It's an exploration game with no end goal but with a very intricate and detailed environment. Your character could walk outside into the backyard and just by kneeling, might find a worm, or a trail of ants, or even a dung beetle. Or they could climb a tree and find a bird's nest. Or maybe they'd look at the fence and notice that they could peel the old paint. Stuff like that. It's hard to build a game that involves every possible possibility, however, but it would be a nice, relaxing exercise to just add more and more things to do based on user suggestions.

My current projects, Race to Sparklepop and Project Apple Basket, are still being made/reworked. Race to Sparklepop's current challenge is to get multiple mobile phones to see each other (I'm learning the netcode function of Game Maker), and Apple Basket... well, I have a lot of little things going on with that one, and I don't want to speak about it too much until I have something more concrete. But here's a cute little critter I recently made for the game! Can you guess his purpose?

#game maker #game creation #concept #Silver Ball Cafe

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