#i wanted this to look proper so i drew a background for once | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kozachenko · 3 months

Text

[Click image for better quality]

I FIGURED OUT A WAY TO FUCKING MAKE THE IMAGE SMALLER FOR POSTING ON TUMBLR WITHOUT SACRIFICING THE ACTUAL QUALITY OF THE IMAGE OH MY GOD

Ok so, what I did is go into the clip studio paint file, make a new file, copy and paste the group in the original file, merge everything, get rid of the extra stuff outside of the canvas, and then make the flattened image smaller and crop the canvas. Once you have that, export it and you're done. This helps maintain the actual quality of the image and also helps shrink the file size down to something actually postable (if anyone has a better way of doing this please tell me)

[Edit]: Ok I guess posting something to Tumblr just naturally compresses the image a bit more somehow because I'm looking at it now and zooming in too much makes it a bit blurry so I'm still gonna have to futz around with image quality for future pieces oof

Artist's Note:

I'm so glad I figured out a way to do this because I like working on a big canvas so I can get as much detail in as I possibly can. Only problems are how laggy it gets while drawing lol.

I had an idea for a drawing with Reimu and Zanmu because I really like thinking about their potential dynamic a lot. I also wanted an excuse to draw Zanmu again but in my normal rendering style because last time I drew her she was in my more sketchy style with generally flat colours so I wanted to draw her again. Speaking of, looking at the sketch for this is a jumpscare that I never enjoy seeing, like, man am I glad I didn't use those for my final piece.

Also about her spear. I was originally gonna make it like the ones she had in game, but it kinda threw off the whole piece. It was too big, too blue, and too flat, so I just went "fuck it" and gave her a different one instead. My headcanon justifying this is that the ones she uses in game are for danmaku battles whereas in any other fight she just uses a proper yari, or she still uses the yari and just makes it all glowy to power it up, maybe both lol. I pulled as much inspiration as I could from Sengoku era spears, and even put in some blue into the decorative part of the spear and also added a little skull to pay tribute to the original spear. Also, in my research I saw some art of izanami and izanagi making japan and saw that the yari izanagi has had a little decorative tassley thingy on it so I took some inspo from that and just made it one of Zanmu's tassles (Idk when that art was from or if the spear was still accurate to Sengoku period Japan but hey, probably the same reasons Eirin puts little bow ties on her arrows, it's just for personalization purposes).

I love rendering hair and clothes so much omg, while I like the super curly hair Zanmu, the longer, wavier hair suits her better for this drawing (I imagine it only does that like how Ghibli characters hair moves when they feel angry lol). I love making Zanmu's hair all messy and crazy, as well as giving her grey hairs, this woman has aged like a fine wine. Also, if the hem on the ends of her sleeves, top of her shirt, and her pants look like gold to you, that's because it is! It's fairly light so she's not collapsing under the weight, but it's gold! (I don't care how impractical it is, it's just cool). Not the undershirt though, it's made of a gold fabric. I had a cute idea with Reimu's hair to make it have a red shine to it. I also changed up Reimu's outfit so it isn't just a blob of red. I like it a lot when Reimu's skirt and outfit is segmented into different layers, so I wanted to incorporate that.

I tried to draw their hands differently as well, but IDK how noticeable that is. Also, I am super happy with how the side profiles for the two of them turned out, I used to struggle a lot with how to make the side profile of a character actually look like the character, so I'm really happy that they actually look like themselves.

Also added in the tree and rocks in the background as an homage to Zanmu's character art in Touhou 19, just because I was getting kinda stumped on what to do with the background lol.

In terms of a story idea with Reimu and Zanmu, idk why but the potential plotline of Zanmu wanting to ascend to godhood is so fascinating to me. Like, it is very possible that if she just convinced everyone she was a god (which would be very easy for her to do), she would become one in a heartbeat. Also, if she were to become a god, with her ability to return stuff to nothing, could she hypothetically get similar abilities to (Jojo Part 5 spoiler btw) GER? Like, idk about the death timeloop stuff, but the concept has been haunting me every night as I have been trying to find loopholes in GER's ability for a while now ( for no reason in particular). Back to the main topic, I imagine that she would probably tell Reimu that if she were to become a god she would take over the Hakurei shrine since the god there might as well be dead, and Reimu just says to her, "Over my dead body bitch." Like, I have no idea how to summarize their dynamic but like, it's the type of hero-villain dynamic where the phrase "We're not so different, you and I" would definitely be a phrase said during a fight. I think that if another IN style game were to release, Reimu and Zanmu would be in a team together. They could also have an interesting mentor and pupil kind of dynamic. Can you tell that Zanmu has been charging my mind rent these part few months? Like, instead of living in my head rent free, she kinda just uno reversed the whole situation and now she's the one charging me rent. What happens if I get evicted from my own brain? Actually, scratch that, I don't think I wanna know.

#touhou project #art #fanart #touhou fanart #touhou 19 #touhou #東方project #zanmu nippaku #unfinished dream of all living ghost #reimu hakurei #東方

263 notes · View notes

kamisatomay018 · 7 months

Text

My Saviour: Part 1

Warnings: mentions of emotionally abusive parents, depressive thoughts, angst with comfort, fluff

Kamisato Ayato x female reader

First Ayato series! But you can read each part individually too. This will also be pretty long and set the background of the story a little, so I hope you Enjoy!:)

“It’s over Ayaka, my life, my freedom, my happiness…it’s all going to end..”

You were a member of the Hiragi clan, And Chisato’s cousin. An only child to your parents, you had been locked away inside your house and this wretched island of Ritou for as long as you could remember. Your parents never treated you like their daughter, rather you were a burden for them and they made sure to tell you that every single day. You had just turned 23 yesterday, and your parents were adamant on getting you married off to some rich noble, regardless of your wishes.

“We want the burden of your existence off our chests” your father had said, looking at you as if you were the worst thing to ever happen to them, which was indeed true. Your parents hated you for after your birth, your mother faced complications which rendered her infertile. They blamed you for it, calling you a devil child who stole the chance of them ever having a male heir. So, they decided to get rid of you once and for all by marrying you off to some other noble.

People barely knew about your existence, for you had never had the opportunity of leaving Ritou. You were absolutely beautiful, each feature so delicate yet perfectly sculpted. You had been raised to be a proper lady, having perfect etiquette in all the matters such as speech, tea ceremony, playing a musical instrument and everything else a noble lady should know. You had met Ayaka 5 years ago when she had travelled to Ritou, and you had looked after her because she was young and could get lost. That’s how you two became best friends.

She told you everything about her life, about her clan and her brother. You knew the Yashiro Commissioner only by his name and by his reputation of being extremely reliable, kind and hardworking. However you got to know a lot more about him through Ayaka, who loved her brother more than anything and would talk about him endlessly for hours. You felt happy that she had a brother like him, for she was so precious and kind to everyone.

Just when you had thought your life couldn’t get any worse, your parents had declared that they’d be putting up notices of your availability in marriage by tomorrow, and that you’d have no choice but to marry. All the noble men you were aware of were at least 10 or more years older than you, who treated women like a trophy and an heir producing machine. You knew that you were about to leave one prison for another, and you had accepted your doomed fate. You were always lonely, often crying in silence while growing up. Seeing other children with loving parents hurt you, and you often hated the fact that you were even born. What was your fault in all this? What had you done to deserve such a fate? You did not know, and you would never get the answers to these questions.

Coming back to the present moment, Ayaka had come to meet you as usual, and you broke the news of your marriage to her. She was absolutely heartbroken for two reasons. The first being that she felt so sad about the treatment you had always been getting, how you were forced into things you didn’t want, how you were trapped and locked away like a slave. The second reason being that this news was going to break her brother’s heart too.

Even though you and Ayato had never formally met or even spoken to one another, he liked you a lot. Ayaka would talk endlessly about you to him, and your gentle demeanour and kindness drew him towards you. He was absolutely enchanted by your beauty when Ayaka had shown a picture of you to him, and without even realising, he had developed feelings for you over these years, and had been searching for opportunities to travel to Ritou somehow, but his busy schedule and the recent crisis in Inazuma regarding the vision hunt decree kept him very busy.

Ayaka hugged you, promising to help you out in her heart. “Please have courage, things will be okay..Who knows, you might actually leave this prison for a palace..”

You chuckled softly, grateful for her words yet not fully believing them “No Ayaka, all the noble men are much, much older than me, controlling and orthodox…I’ll be treated as nothing but a trophy wife..you know, my parents burnt all my paintings yesterday, saying that they were..awful and a hindrance to my potential marriage because my future husband would not approve of my love for the arts..”

Ayaka felt devastated at this, because she knew that painting was the only way you could find peace and express your true self. But now your parents had burnt those too, just the way they had burnt all hope and determination from your life. She hugged you softly again, staying with you some more before she had to return to the Kamisato Estate. There was a lot she had to tell her brother.

Ayaka hurried through the streets of inazuma city to reach the Kamisato Estate; and once she reached she entered her brother’s office without knocking, being a little out of breath.

“Ayaka? What’s wrong sister? Has something happened?” Spoke a deep gentle voice, lavender eyes looking up at his dear sister with a worried gaze. She meant the world to him, and he was always willing to do anything for her.

“Brother…Y/N’s parents are forcing her into an arranged marriage! By tomorrow a list of all the noble men interested in marrying her will reach the Hiragi estate, and they’ll pick a suitor for her..”

Then quill Ayato was once holding dropped, spilling ink onto the parchment but he couldn’t care less. The only girl he was interested in and was dying to meet was about to get married? That too to a stranger? Ayato knew the noblemen of inazuma too well, they were cunning and manipulative, too proud and full of themselves. None of them deserved an angel like you. He took a moment to compose himself, then simply smiled as he reached out to get a new parchment.

“Worry not Ayaka, I will make sure nothing of that sort happens.

“What are you planning to do brother?”

Ayato smiles at her, his eyes twinkling with determination and excitement. “I will go to Ritou and seek Hiragi Y/N’s hand in marriage.”

#ayato x reader #genshin fanfic #kamisato ayato #genshin ayato #ayato fluff #ayato x y/n

79 notes · View notes

wingsonghalo · 3 months

Text

A Practice, For Now ((HanaKou version))

SO back in October of 2022, I goofily remixed my first HanaNene fic, A Practice, For Now (also available on Ao3), to feature Hanako asking Kou to help him practice kissing. It's still HanaNene-coded (and MitsuKou-coded), but instead of Nene asking Hanako for practice because she wants her first kiss before she dies, Hanako is asking Kou for practice because he wants to already know how if he ever ends up kissing Nene. So they stumble through some first kisses. They are so silly and I love them. While I initially just wrote this for my HanaNene server for a bit of fun, even keeping the structure of the opening lines of the original fic and the 8-page length (it's literally just 469 words less than the original lmao), it's been SO long since I posted any of my JSHK writing, and there is not enough HanaKou in the world, so!! I hope you enjoy this silliness!! (Also, obviously this would be before any canon kisses, haha) ================================================

It wasn't the proper setting, the air dusty and still in the abandoned classroom, the dying sunlight streaming in through the window in dust-mote-laden rays, and his nose twitching from the chalk dust as he cleaned the board. It wasn't the right time either, 4PM on a Friday. It most certainly wasn't the right person.

But Hanako, who was loitering around here for reasons Kou couldn't explain, brought up a very unexpected topic nevertheless.

"Hey, kid?" he finally spoke up, hovering helpfully in the background as Kou launched into another coughing fit from clapping the chalkboard erasers together.

"Hm?" Kou responded once he was able to speak again, tossing a glimpse at him over his shoulder. Being a ghost, his lungs already drew in no air and thus he did not have to choke on this chalk dust, the lucky bastard.

"We should kiss."

Kou dropped both erasers and began another spectacular coughing fit, no chalk dust required this time, as he whirled on him. "WHAT?!" He'd turned around so fast he almost fell over, and struggled to steady himself by flinging his hands back to brace on the chalk tray.

The Toilet Troll just looked mildly concerned at Kou's sudden inability to stand or breathe air, raising his eyebrows a little. "Be a little louder, why don't you; I think there are people in the next prefecture over who didn't hear you."

"What the HELL kind of thing is that to say?!" Kou demanded, his knees wobbling.

His ghost friend frowned. "I thought it was a rather clever joke. You were so loud that I was implying that people—"

"NOT THAT," Kou interrupted, flinging a hand out to stop him. "The… what you said before that!" Had he misheard or something?!

"Oh," said Hanako mildly, "when I said we should kiss?"

"What is HAPPENING?!" Kou clutched his head desperately. "Is this some kind of bizarre nightmare?!"

"How rude." Hanako's disapproving frown was even more pronounced now. "It was an earnest suggestion."

No matter how many times Kou blinked his wide eyes at his friend, nothing changed, so he dropped his arms and rested his weight against the chalk tray behind him. The pain of it jabbing into his back kept him grounded. "Okay, seriously, what the hell, Hanako? You know perfectly well that that sounds like an insane suggestion, so unless this is just a really bad joke, you must have a pretty good reason." Kou's best guess was that Hanako was going to somehow trick him into agreeing and then laugh at him.

Hanako didn't look like he was in the mood for laughing, however. He heaved a huge sigh, and sat heavily on one of the desks closest to Kou near the front of the classroom with a fwump. Usually he didn't make much noise when he sat on things, so he must have been either really tired, or really dedicated to being theatrical (it was most often the latter). "Look… my life ended before I got to experience a lot of things. Things I thought I never would experience now that I’m dead. But…" He bit his lip. Kou was pretty sure he wasn't just being theatrical now. "It kind of seems like one thing that I thought was out of reach… might not be?"

"You're going to have to be more specific," Kou pressed him.

The ghost tapped his fingertips together. "There's… someone that I like. And I was thinking I'd like to maybe tell them how I feel.” The fingertip-tapping got faster. “And possibly practice a way of expressing those feelings."

"And… who might you be talking about?" Kou had a pretty good idea, but he wanted to be sure.

The gold eyes he lifted to meet Kou's were pleading, desperate. "Do I really have to say it? You feel the same way about her, don't you?"

Her. As he suspected, this had something to do with Hanako's feelings for Yashiro-senpai. Kou didn't respond, except to clench his fists by his sides. "So… what, you want some experience before you tell her your feelings? With me?"

"With my friend," Hanako emphasized softly, and looked down. "My only other friend. I don't have a lot of allies, you know."

Goddammit. How was he supposed to refuse that outright? "And why should I help you? Doesn't that give you an unfair advantage?" he pointed out, crossing his arms. He tried to keep his voice wary, but to his own ears he already sounded resigned.

"Well, you'd gain experience too, hopefully. Don't tell me you're rolling in romantic expertise?"

Kou grimaced, mouth pulling to one side as he tapped a fingertip on his arm. "I have zero experience, a fact I'm sure you're aware of, or you wouldn't have asked me."

He smiled, equal parts devious and sheepish. "Guilty as charged."

The sigh Kou let out lasted a good five seconds. "You're not joking, are you." It wasn't really a question, but Hanako shook his head anyway. "This is ridiculous. You know that, right?" Hanako nodded, his eyes not moving from him as Kou took a few steps towards him. "I mean, I'm a guy. It's not going to be like kissing her. Aren't you freaked out by it?" Another shake of the head. Kou gulped as Hanako stood up again, ghostly feet touching the floor.

He was shorter than Kou. Kou had known that, but it was especially evident now that they were standing facing each other. "Does it freak you out?" he asked.

"Only because it's you," Kou quipped.

"But… you're okay with it?" His goldenrod eyes wavered a bit.

Kou shrugged. "Only because it's you," he repeated, and bent down. Hanako's eyes fluttered shut just in time for their lips to meet.

It was so cold that it surprised him, and maybe that was why it only lasted a split second. But that had hardly been enough to qualify as experience, so when Hanako pressed back up against his mouth, Kou didn't back away. They stood there like that for a few seconds, neither moving a muscle. Kou could hear his pulse pounding in his ears.

When Hanako pulled away, he glanced unsurely up at the other boy. "Well… what did you think?"

"I'll be honest, dude," said Kou: "It kind of sucked."

Hanako flinched. "Well, you said it yourself: it's not the same as it would be with a girl!" Still, his shoulders slumped. "It was bad, huh…"

It was almost endearing, how seriously he was taking this. But Kou pushed back the slightly sappy feelings of fondness swirling inside him at watching Hanako fidget, his cheeks still dusted pink. "I think it's because we were just kind of standing there," he said with a slight smile. "You're supposed to sort of… tilt your head or whatever, I think. So it doesn't feel as stiff."

"Well look who's suddenly an expert," Hanako huffed, but he looked intrigued at this new information. "If you know what you're supposed to do, why didn't you do it?"

"Pardon me for trying to get over the feeling of smooching a popsicle!" Kou fired back.

Hanako's cheeks went a shade darker. "I can't help that any more than you can help feeling like a furnace!"

"A furnace?" Kou repeated.

"Yeah, a furnace!" Hanako crossed his arms, and the pouting look on his face was what some might describe as cute. "You're so hot that I thought I was going to evaporate into mist!"

They stared at each other for a few seconds.

"I'm hot, huh," Kou said, trying not to burst into laughter.

"I didn't mean it like that and you know it," Hanako grumbled, his whole face red.

Kou was usually the butt of Hanako's jokes, so it was quite gratifying being the one to make Hanako feel like a fool for once. "No, I know what you meant," he said, pretending to puff out his chest and combing his fingers back through his hair in his best male model impression. "I'm a total stud." He was, at least, related to someone people frequently labeled as such.

"I'm going to rip that stupid earring off you," the ghost spat, but there was no real threat behind the words.

"Don't hate me for being beautiful," Kou sighed melodramatically. It was the kind of thing Mitsuba might have said, he thought with a fair bit of amusement.

"It's time to shut up now," said Hanako, yanking Kou down by his tie to kiss him again.

Hanako was, at the very least, a quick learner, because this time he tilted his head as instructed, their lips molding together easily. Kou responded as well as he could, moving his mouth in counterpoint. The other boy's lips were soft, and the temperature difference was not exactly unpleasant once he got used to it. Before he even realized it, he found himself swept away in the sensation, allowing himself to be guided by feeling alone. But eventually he needed to breathe, and so he put his hands on Hanako's shoulders to push him back.

The ghost must have misunderstood the intention, however, because he took the increased contact as encouragement, pressing against him more insistently and forcing Kou to take a surprised breath in through his nose instead. Hanako was kissing him like he had something to prove now, having let go of his tie to grasp his shirt with both fists as if to prevent Kou's escape.

Kou wasn't trying to escape, though. His grip on Hanako's shoulders, which had started as an attempt to push him away, now drew him a little closer. His lips responded to Hanako's every move, trying to slow him down where he was too forceful and coax a reaction whenever he stilled. Where had all this sudden effort come from? Kou's knees felt a bit weak, which was stupid because he was kissing Hanako, and it wasn't like there should be any actual feelings involved here, and oh my god he was kissing Hanako; what was this situation and why was his head swimming and why did it feel like sparklers in his gut when Hanako accidentally caught a tooth on his lower lip and pulled away to huskily whisper a "sorry" before kissing him again?

Kou muffled a sound into Hanako's mouth and kissed back like he meant it, because he wasn't just going to let this pervy ghost make him feel like some swooning chick—not that he was swooning or anything. Yes, he only nibbled Hanako's lip back out of spite, to show that Hanako couldn't get the better of him. It had nothing to do with wanting to delight over the startled murmur the other boy made, nor with savoring the way he felt Hanako's cold hands tremble as they clutched his shirt.

This was just Kou's first experience with kissing someone, that was all. That was why every place Hanako touched felt simultaneously freezing and burning hot, that was why his knees felt ready to give out, that was why he shuddered and gripped tighter when Hanako pulled Kou's lower lip between his, like he was reluctant to part from him.

When they drew back this time, both of their faces were red, and they gasped for air, staring at each other almost challengingly. The rosy tint of Hanako's cheeks was almost—okay, no, it was completely adorable.

Shit, Kou thought to himself as his heart lurched in his chest, did he maybe have sort of a tiny thing for Hanako?

Whatever; not important right now.

"Does it always… feel like that?" Hanako finally broke the silence. His voice sounded a bit roughened in a way that made the hairs on the back of Kou's neck stand up.

"Like what?" Kou prompted, brain still a bit sluggish and yet swirling with questions.

"Like, you know…" Number Seven of the School Wonders lowered his head, looking like a shy young boy rather than an impressive leader of apparitions as his large eyes flicked up towards Kou’s. "…Good?"

Some part of Kou preened at the praise, implicit though it was. "We've already established that I have zero experience, so I couldn't tell you."

"Ah," Hanako replied with a nod, "that's true."

"But…" The hesitance had crept into Kou's voice too now as he stuck his hands in his pockets. "I didn't… hate it."

Hanako's face lit up, and Kou's heart skipped a beat. Oh no. Kou hadn't been aware of how bad his soft spot was for this little jerk. "So it wasn't as bad that time?"

Kou stifled an uncomfortable laugh. That was putting things mildly. "Nah, it was, um…" He cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his messy blonde hair. "Definitely not as bad."

The other boy grinned a mile wide. "Aww, I love you too, kiddo," the menace teased with a wink.

"I take it back," Kou decided. "I hated it, and I hate you."

"I know you don't mean it, but hearing you say it kind of hurts anyway." Hanako was pouting again. "If I tried kissing you again, would you hate me less, or more?”

"You're really pushing it," Kou groused as he rolled his eyes. "Don't you think you've gotten enough practice?"

The other boy didn't look confident, pressing his fingertips together and glancing up at Kou hesitantly. "I don't know… do you think she'd punch me if I kissed her at this, er, skill level?"

"I don't think she'd punch you," Kou said, crossing his arms thoughtfully, "but if you made her cry, I would definitely punch you."

Hanako's expression clouded over, his eyes darkening and his brows drawing together. "It's selfish to feel this way, I know. I mean, you're actually alive. She'll remember you when she leaves this place. You…" He hung his head. "…actually have a chance with her."

Kou smiled, a little bittersweetly. "There was a time that I would have loved to date Senpai. She's really cute, and totally my type." He scooped up Raiteijou, which had been leaning against the wall in the corner, wrapped up and disguised as an umbrella, before facing Hanako again. He felt more secure with the staff in his hands. "But the more I spent time around you guys," he continued, "the more I realized that I have more fun as her friend." Plus there was the fact that his senpai was completely obviously head-over-heels in love with the ghost in front of him, but he wasn’t going to give Hanako the satisfaction of admitting that.

Hanako's eyebrows shot up. "Did you just friendzone Yashiro?"

He brought one shoulder up to his ear in a half-shrug. "I guess?"

"So… you don't have feelings for her?" He sounded incredulous, like he couldn't believe anyone wouldn't love Yashiro Nene.

"Not romantic ones anymore," he clarified. He'd still do just about anything for her as a friend, after all.

Hanako narrowed his eyes. "Why'd you agree to help your former rival, then? Just out of the goodness of your heart?"

He hesitated, his free hand clenching into a fist in his pocket. Pink hair and a smile brighter than the midday sun flashed through his mind like snapshots. "I still might have wanted some practice," he mumbled.

Hanako waggled his eyebrows at him, leaning right into his space. "Don't tell me I'm more your type now?~"

Kou whacked the Porcelain-Throne Poltergeist lightly on the head with Raiteijou. "Go back to your bathroom if you want to talk shit," he grumbled, but his cheeks felt warm.

"It's a good thing I didn't fall for you, since you'd apparently be an abusive boyfriend," Hanako whined, rubbing the spot Kou's wrapped staff had hit. Kou was positive it hadn't actually hurt him. He was just being dramatic.

"I'd never hit anyone I was dating," Kou said with dignity. "You're a special case."

"You think I'm special~" Hanako sang, floating around him obnoxiously. "You liked smooching me~"

Irritation prickled Kou's spine. He wanted to smack him again, but instead he took a deep, grounding breath. He could be mature here. "Like I said, it wasn't bad," he got out through gritted teeth. "Thank you for the experience." He gave a stiff bow before turning on his heel. "If you're done being a pain in the ass, I'll be on my way." He hadn't entirely finished cleaning the classroom, but if Hanako kept being so annoying, Kou couldn't guarantee he'd be able to resist shutting him up (whether with Raiteijou or his own mouth, he was still debating).

"Wait!" Hanako's hand closed around the fabric at his back, and Kou stopped in his tracks. "I, um… I didn't get to say thank you." Curiously, Kou turned around to face him again, raising an eyebrow to prompt him.

The vulnerability in Hanako's face couldn't be anything but genuine, his brows drawn up as he let go of Kou. "I really couldn't have asked anyone else for help about this." He pulled his cap off his head, fidgeting with it as he held it down by his waist. "It… means a lot to me that you didn't just laugh in my face."

Kou wanted to make a joke, like Hanako would have at any other time. Say yeah, well, it was a close thing or can I still laugh now? But looking at this kid—this kid who had died before his first kiss, died before he'd even gotten to Kou's age, this kid who was short and scrawny and suspicious and had a propensity for dirty jokes but had also saved Kou more times than he could count, who had called Kou his only other friend—he couldn't bring himself to make light of things.

"You're really important to Senpai, Hanako," he said, tone heavy with sincerity, and then grabbed Hanako's hat out of his hands. He shoved it back onto the other boy's head and pulled it low over his eyes, ignoring Hanako's squawk of alarm and laying one more kiss on the hat's brim. "…But you're important to me, too. Don't forget that."

Hanako's hands sprang up to push his cap back into its rightful place, and Kou was satisfied to see that his whole face was glowing red. He looked absolutely stunned, his mouth hanging open and his hair in disarray as he fumbled for words. "I, what's—what's with that, all of a sudden?" he finally sputtered. "Getting all sentimental on me like that…!"

"You started it," Kou retaliated, sticking out his tongue.

Wow, Hanako actually looked more flustered than Kou had been banking on. Either Hanako had some slight feelings buried there too that were going to remain unaddressed, or Kou was way cooler than anyone ever admitted.

(Or Hanako was just easy to fluster. It was probably that, but Kou's ego wanted it to be more than that.)

"You're not going to tell anyone about this, are you?" Hanako said next, still straightening his hat and looking out of sorts as he cleared his throat.

"Psh. Like I'd want to tell anyone about kissing you," Kou threw over his shoulder, since he was getting ready to leave.

"You say that, but I know you're just dying to gush about my considerable talent." Ah, he'd recovered his swagger that quickly, huh?

"I'm not dying for anything, pal," he shot back with a lopsided grin, shrugging on his uniform jacket, which he’d flung over a desk chair.

They shared a look, and Kou felt certain that there was understanding between them when Hanako grinned back.

"See you tomorrow, Kou."

It was perhaps the first time Hanako had actually said his name, and the sound of it was like a flicker of candle flame in his chest, making his smile widen even further.

There was a lot of stuff for Kou to figure out. Maybe he had a bit of experience now, but still not much confidence to make any moves to resolve his entanglement with a certain other supernatural. Maybe he'd never get any kind of satisfying happy ending even if he did gain some confidence. Maybe he'd essentially given away his first kisses to someone he had no intention of pursuing (tiny embers of something burning in his chest notwithstanding). Maybe he didn't have much of an idea of where to go from here.

But that was okay.

"Good night, Hanako," he replied, pushing open the door to the classroom.

For now, this was fine.

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

Thanks for letting me revisit this old thing!! If y'all like it, I'll put it up on Ao3 as well, LOL. 💖

#hanakou #hananene #jibaku shounen hanako kun #toilet bound hanako kun #mitsukou #stuff i write

34 notes · View notes

inevitably-johnlocked · 6 months

Note

What is something you wish more people understood about you or if you prefer about your job or hobbies?

Hey Lovely!!

Ahhh, oh gosh SO much, honestly.

So I'm a graphic designer by trade, and an illustrator and freelance designer as my side gig, and my hobbies are art-related as well.

FOR SURE, I have to say that I wish people respected designers as the creatives we are. I've GENUINELY had clients who think all I do is hit a "design ad" button and BOOM it's done, and don't think they should have to pay me because – and this is ONLY because I've been doing this for 20 years – I can finish a print ad in under an hour, and booklets under 5, not taking into account the AMOUNT OF CHANGES and STUPID things I have to talk people out of to not make them look bad.

Some other things:

Microsoft Word is not a design program. I HATED this when I worked at the Paper. Good fucking LORD the amount of times I've had to rebuild an ad because the client couldn't resize it themselves and couldn't understand why if they moved something everything fucked up is astounding.

Canva is good for mocking up design, but I'm sorry, you're NOT a designer if you learned design in Canva. I know it sounds gatekeepy and pretentious, and I am sorry about that, but even with Canva you need to know SOME principles of design to get something appealing out of it. A designer, after-all, MADE your templates you're working from. We're everywhere. We're a silent bunch that's under-appreciated. You're never going to get the precision and nuance and a proper eye that you'll get from a designer. Sure you'll get quick and dirty designs, work fine for socials, but I LOATHE when people send me shit they made in Canva that I have to, once again, rebuild because they can't figure out how to resize in Canva and complained to me that Canva isn't making it look nice when they export it (to be fair, that's a them problem, the tools ARE there for you to do that stuff)

When your designer tells you one thing and you're trying to push for another, your designer is trying to save you the embarrassment of your "vision". We know what we're doing. We spend most of our days knowing market trends and what will make eyes go to your advertisements and products.

Strokes don't fix everything.

I can't read your mind. PLEASE, if you wanted an element there from the start, you need to tell me, and not tell me I'm a fucking moron who should have guessed by the blobs you drew on a napkin as your layout.

Fuck AI; I see the benefits of it for smaller things like content aware fill to add a bit more height to a stock photo I'm using, or the smart-select to route a photo faster, but literally that's all I see useful for it.

I know there's loads more I'm missing, but I've seen SO much that I'm numb to a lot of things and tend to just "autocorrect" stuff without even thinking anymore.

I love my job though, I really do. The joke in my industry is that "I get paid to play in Photoshop all day long" and there is some truth to it after doing this for nearly 20 years. But I wish people would understand that we are trained professionals who want to make them look good, and to do that I need time and money. We are literally background characters for the main protagonists, and the pay isn't great unless you're really lucky (which I am, but it took me 12 years to finally get in where I am), and I wish people would stop saying my job is easy.

It literally is not. Think of it as retail, but you deal with the same people every single day nitpicking the tiniest things over and over again despite you telling them countless times that 6pt font is probably the smallest you should go, but no 3 pt must be on this ad.

Anyway. 🙃

My favourite though is Layout Design. I love designing the booklets and mailers we do at my job, because I get to be super creative. My boss is pretty lenient with me, since "you've been here longer than all of us, you know better than me how this works", so I get to have fun.

Thank you for this question :) And gonna promo myself here, if anyone ever needs design or layout services, I'm your gal :)

#steph replies #about me #graphic design #ask me anything #i love answering questions about my profession #because it's literally the only thing i'm good at #i pride myself on my skills

27 notes · View notes

eemamminy-art · 4 months

Text

Rambly story thoughts about my other wol, F'lihn!! She's not in the same universe as Leigh, so in her story Leigh is probably just like.. a normal guy in Ul'dah lol. But I had some new ideas about her recently and today thought of adding another one of my OCs to her story so I wanted to talk about it!!

First of all, I changed her look ever so slightly the last few times I drew her:

Pictured with Glassi in this first one 🥰 I had been waffling for a while on whether she just bound her chest or had surgery, and ultimately I decided it made the most sense for her to at some point in her story have surgery. A big part of her background is that she is running from her past and afraid to let others know that she's a woman, so she presents as a man to most people she meets but doesn't identify as such in private. I thought the leaf tattoos would be nice because it ties into purple as her overall color scheme, and also her tribe is from a Garlean occupied territory so I thought of the Roman motifs using leaves as like a nice way to kind of.. reclaim her homeland by putting flora from it on her body.

Here, I opted to give her a different nose and make her hair even curlier, and you'll notice I gave her a Garlean third eye as well. Which leads into the next thing...

In my initial draft of her story, she was just pressured to conform and mate per usual sun seeker tribal lore and that was her reason for leaving her tribe, but I felt like something about it didn't quite sit right with me. Like it felt a little too upsetting for me personally and kind of disingenuous for the way seeker lore works out in practice.

Not that it's any less dark what I decided on... 🥲 but basically, I had an idea that her tribe was being subjected to experimentation by the young Prince Varis. His grandfather may have invented magitek, but Varis was seeking genetic modifications to try and create a way for Garleans to harness magic. F'lihn's mother was one of the test subjects, with the intention of F'lihn coming out as a magical garlean but instead she was born a very magically apt but otherwise normal miqo'te-- save for the third eye which normally was only in full blooded garleans. So the experiment was regarded a failure, Varis was pulled away by the emperor for other matters, and F'lihn was left to grow up with her tribe as some sort of abomination-- half garlean, half miqo'te.

It made her an outcast in her tribe, it made her hate herself at first, then as she grew older she directed that hate toward Garlemald and the future emperor instead. Her echo awoke when she had a premonition of her becoming the next subject for experimentation and she got the fuck out of there, never looking back and changing her entire identity.

She traveled for a while through Garlean territories until reaching Kugane, then from there secured travel to Limsa Lominsa. There, she began ARR as the warrior of light, and also she would soon meet her gf, a failing but stubborn ship captain named Glazisil-- Glassi to her mates.

Glassi was my first OC in ffxiv but she never ever felt like a proper warrior of light. She's not very bright, she's loud, she's brash, but by gods is she loyal and stubborn!! She had been trying to follow in her father's footsteps ever since she inherited his ship, but Limsa is different than it was in her father's youth, and between the red tape around piracy, her own inexperience, and her inability to wrangle her crew all into one place long enough for them to have any amount of success, she's been floundering and just barely making by up until she meets F'lihn. She's totally awestruck and enamored the first time they meet, and she's the first person F'lihn ever really gets close to. Think of her like a golden retriever in the body of a pitbull, with a bad habit for swearing and drinking. (I wrote about them once for ffxiv write-- their first meeting, centered around her and her crew making bets after not being able to discern F'lihn's gender at first glance)

F'lihn would've begun her journey as an archer I think, trained to hunt like most miqo'te women even despite being the black sheep of her tribe. In Limsa she would discover arcane magic, and learn just how much magical ability she truly had in spite of being half garlean. Which would eventually lead to her becoming a scholar, but I'll need to work out details of just how that happens :3

It also gives me a fun dynamic to explore for her when eventually meeting Zenos, since they would share a father and have their connection spark due to that. Zenos obsessing over the sibling he never knew he had, you know? It makes it so much more complicated for her too, that she hates this place and these people with every fiber of her being but that there's reminders like this that she's connected to them in an inescapable way. And that she seeks ways to reclaim her own body like the body modification stuff I mentioned above, to try and deal with it!!

Onto the new thought I had today:

This is Aya, she's another OC I made who I ended up not doing anything with after I made her... but I had it in my head that her being absolutely huge despite being a female au ra was due to some sort of garlean experimentation as well.

So what I thought of today, was that she was kidnapped from sui-no-sato as a child (to kind of compound their reasons for being so isolationist) and taken to garlemald after the occupation of Doma, and then was experimented on to make her grow tall and muscular like that. They wanted her to be a super soldier but they underestimated how resilient she is, and one day she was able to break free and flee the capital. She's a gunbreaker, so I want to think she fled through Bozja and picked that up there, and eventually made her way to Eorzea.

Given they have a similar history and similar hatred for the garlean empire, I thought Aya and F'lihn would get along really well and become fast friends!! Another addition to the wol's entourage.

At this rate F'lihn is just gonna be surrounded by giant women... 😂 which I'm very okay with (and so is she lmao)

Slowly I'm developing this alternate wol storyline and I'm enjoying it!!! Much as I've built up Leigh and he's forever going to be who I consider my main wol, I really love all I've thought of so far for F'lihn and Glassi's story :3 I kind of had some hopes to draw the two of them for oc kiss week but I'm quickly running out of time, so we will see if I pull some things together last minute haha

#my ocs #oc: f'lihn #oc: glassi #oc: aya #my writing #in conclusion garlemald ruins everything for everyone #that's the through line here #and also: women #ffxiv

11 notes · View notes

certainempatheticturkeymuffin · 4 months

Text

Feeling kinda nostaligic looking through some of my art.

I drew this in 2021 and I was so proud of it. It was a companion piece for a fic that never manifested, and I loved it so much. It was my first real foray into digital art. Sure, I'd definitely drawn before, but nothing with this amount of effort put into it. It wasn't even the first thing I drew for the LU Discord: the place that got me back into art.

Looking at the results, I think it still holds up, and that makes me beyond happy. I would certainly change a lot about it if I drew it again today, but I love it all the same, because it's something I could see on tumblr and go "oh that's cute, I'll reblog" and I'm near tears.

I think it embodies what my favorite pieces are to draw: sad/angsty pieces of my favorite characters with dramatic lighting. I don't draw many of them, because they require so much effort, but they're my favorite.

I drew these two pieces in October and December of last year. I learned how to utilize glow layers, my anatomy improved, and I shifted to a lineless art style that is so much work but gives beautiful results. You can even see that between the two pieces I decided to properly learn how to draw wings.

I've improved so much in only three years and I genuinely owe it to the LU Discord. Even if I'm not as active there anymore, y'all got me back into art. I have over a hundred pieces of terribly drawn (by my current standards) fan pieces for your weekly prompts that gave me the practice I needed to improve, and I wouldn't have even bothered if I didn't want to participate in that community.

Specifically, I want to thank @ahrva, one of my best friends. She who collabed with me and encouraged me into so many writing projects and community events. Thank you, dearly. I wouldn't have had the courage to join the secret santas or art exchanges if you hadn't been right there, super excited to participate. You always compliment my art, and it means a lot when you go "OOOOOO" in response to one of my pieces /gen

I'd also like to thank @wolfy1298 whose art was a huge inspiration, even if we've never really spoken. Whenever I saw your work I was so impressed that I couldn't help trying to emulate you a little. Your colors are something I still envy to this day, your masterful highlights and lineart an inspiration to work harder and improve. Your curvy shapes are also very cute and may have infected me lmao

@author-main your diverse body types encouraged me to properly learn anatomy. I'm taking medical classes, but it's another thing entirely to try drawing the human body properly. I'm still unfortunately lacking when it comes to larger bodies, but your beautiful work encourages me to try improving, even if it's only in sketchbooks that no one will ever see. Your lines are full of personality, and I never tire of seeing your work.

@w1lmutt your compositions and poses are awe-inspiring. I struggle a lot with composing a shot, especially with foreshortening, so your work is extremely impressive. You manage to insert so much personality through body language alone, and it's definitely something I'll be striving to improve. That's not even mentioning your backgrounds! I'm generally in awe of every piece you make. I think I'd die if I had to draw a proper landscape/cityscape lol. I can barely manage a bedroom! Just another thing to work towards improving lol

There are tons more artists i want to shout out and compliment, but it's nearly 7am and I haven't gone to sleep yet lol.

Thank all of you. Even if I only pop in once every few months for the events nowadays, I'll always cherish my time in this community. I'm going to keep improving, and I'm glad to be doing so alongside such skilled artists!

#my art #just a thought #thank you #linked universe #tw blood #artist appreciation #art journey #art growth #appreciation post

6 notes · View notes

irrlicht-writes · 8 months

Text

The King That Will Be Chap. 1

Read on AO3

Downpour, Thy Rain

The funeral had passed in a blur. He could barely recall his coronation, but now his head wore the crown. Radovid wasn’t cut out for this. Him, a king? It was to be a Redania for the dogs. What would Vizimir say?

Nothing.

Vizimir would say nothing ever again, because Vizimir was dead.

He didn’t know what to do. At best, Radovid had been pretty background filler. The royal fuck-up. And now that fuck-up was bloody king and he couldn’t fuck up anymore. He wanted to cry, to scream, to plead, anything. And yet nothing he’d do would change the cold, harsh truth.

Radovid Comma King.

It was a rainy night, and Radovid wandered the streets. His security detail had either lost him, or they were keeping their distance, he cared not. On a macabre thought, Radovid would not mind an assailant jumping out at him now. Lift the crown from his head, and let him go. Oh, such macabre thoughts were not his, and he hated it. Vizimir would hate it. Above all else, Vizimir wanted him alive, and alive he was, even if he was not happy.

His stride ended, and Radovid stood in the middle of the road. He could run. Run where, he didn’t know. Run, somebody would recognise him. Run, he didn’t even know how to support himself. Run, it’d just be worse once he’d return. Run, he would just get himself killed by bandits.

Radovid didn’t want to die.

Maybe he cried then, but if he did, the rain would wash it away before it’d ever be real.

“Weary from the road, traveller?”

Radovid blinked and looked up. All the houses around him were dark, it was way after sundown. But there one house was, still alight, like a beacon in the night. A flame for any straying moths looking to burn.

He couldn’t very well see the one who spoke to him, so Radovid turned and carefully approached the light. As he got closer, and his eyes adjusted to the brightness, he saw a man sitting on a bench.

“Why are you out here?” Radovid asked, voice rasp from the rain.

“Me? Oh, worry not about little old me, love. Sit with me, take a rest. Your path shan’t disappear, I promise.”

He shouldn’t. Every moment he stilled, his guards were creeping closer, ready to drag him back. And yet, he found himself sitting down next to the stranger. The man was pretty; Radovid could even see it in the dim light. His hair was brown, with blue eyes along it. There was a soft smirk on his lips, but he looked tired.

“I – I shouldn’t stay.”

“Of course, you’re right. It’s dreadfully cold out here, isn’t it? We should go inside, warm up by the fire. Come with me, doe.”

The man got up and walked past Radovid, towards the door with the light behind it. No. Radovid should go, he should leave. But – would it be so bad, warming up inside by the fire? He was soaked, and he was cold and, and he might catch a cold if he wandered through the rain any longer. So he got up, and followed the man inside. After all, what’s the worst that could happen?

Inside, it was dry and warm. There were a few people about, but they all minded their own business. The place looked similar to a tavern, but something felt different. Radovid looked a bit closer at the people here, and the decor. Several plush seats, and way better decorations than in any old taverns. Oh, of course. This was the local brothel, what was it called again? He couldn’t recall, but of course, he ended up here.

“Come here, strider,” the man called, and Radovid turned his head. The man had sat down on some rug in front of the open hearth. He smiled and beckoned him over. Radovid just followed and sat down next to him. Soon, it would come: the man would get a proper look, see the king of Redania and tell him to please leave. Nobody wanted to be involved in any sort of royal scandal.

“You’re soaked, aren’t you? You should get out of these clothes lest you catch a cold, strider.”

Radovid blushed. Getting naked in the whorehouse? Right out in the open? He drew his knees in and hid his face behind his legs. The handsome man noticed, frowned, and then laughed.

“Oh doe, I was going to get you some of my clothes. While I do appreciate the naked body, it’s not the time for that now. Don’t fret, love, I’ll be back shortly.”

The man got up and left, going up some stairs. Radovid remained sitting on the rug, contemplating if he should undress already, how much to undress or if he should just wait. There weren’t that many people around, but he felt self-conscious anyway.

Contemplating, he decided to at least get out of his boots. Having cold feet would lead to a cold far quicker, he knew that. Idly, he wondered about his guards. They were still looking for him, he was sure. Would they stumble across the still lit-up brothel and come inside, seeking information and shelter? He hoped they wouldn’t catch sick, he’d need to give them time off. He was such a menace; he wasn’t fit to be king. Leading his trusty men into the rain, because he was being a sad little pussy? That was not how a king should behave. Vizimir would have never done that. But what was he to do? He’s never been prepared to be king, and now look at him. What were to happen to Redania under his rule? It would surely crumble and everyone would know where to point their fingers and Vizimir would so be – disappointed. Maybe that would be the worst bit – Vizimir wouldn’t be angry, he’d be disappointed.

Fuck it all, he wanted to cry.

He wanted someone else to be king.

“Getting lost in thought, strider?”

Radovid jerked out of his thoughts, then, and turned back around. The man had returned and Radovid blushed.

“I – Sorry I was quite taken aback by your decor.”

The man laughed.

“I might believe so, if I had any certainty that you had looked around at all. Come, doe, I have clothes that should fit you for the time being. Can’t have my wayward wanderer become sick, can I?”

Still blushing, Radovid got up and let himself be helped out of his wet clothes. The new ones are quite soft, and well-worn. They feel like a soft embrace and he simply loves it. The man, meanwhile, hung his wet clothes up, close to the fire, so that they may dry quickly.

It’s then, when Radovid knew.

“You,” he started, “you are the Witcher’s –“

The man smiled gently at him, with eyes free of judgement.

“The Witcher’s Whore? Yes, that would be me. For short, I go by Dandelion.”

Of course, of all the whores he could’ve run into, it just had to be the Witcher one.

“I should leave,” he said quickly then. He really couldn’t afford any sort of problems with the Witchers, oh gods –

“Yes, you should. When it stopped raining and the sun’s let up again. Sit with me again, doe, and worry not about Witchers that aren’t here.”

The man – the whore – Dandelion grabbed his arm and pulled him down again, and Radovid simply followed.

“I’m sorry, I just, I’m, it’s, I mean –“

He didn’t know what to say. Witchers were dangerous, weren’t they? Radovid could just imagine that they were possessive too. He really didn’t want to get involved in this, if it meant getting on the Witcher’s bad side.

Dandelion just laughed.

“Don’t worry your pretty head, doe. I fuck the Witcher, yeah? But I’m a whore. I fuck the carpenter too, and nobody calls me the Carpenter’s Whore. So rest easy, love, and warm your hands at the fire.”

With that, he turned to the fire and smiled softly at it. He was... beautiful. Radovid rubbed his hands together and held them out to the fire. He hadn’t quite realised just how cold he had gotten.

But now his thoughts wandered again. He couldn’t escape his crown. Radovid had never known the weight his brother had carried for all those years. He should’ve asked him more about it. He should’ve showed more interest. He should’ve paid attention to those classes he had been attending. He knew nothing about politics or other nobles or leaders or how to rule the largest fucking kingdom on the bloody Continent.

He knew if war ever came, Redania would be the last bastion. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it. He should just disappear. Vanish, without a trace. Cut and dye his hair, move far, far away, into the south.

“Have you ever heard the story of The Prince That Never Was?”

Radovid blinked away from the fire and looked at Dandelion again. Dandelion, who smiled with his mouth closed, the fire’s flames barely licking at his eyes.

“Huh?”

“Let me tell it, then. I think you’ll like it.”

“The Prince That Never Was was born to a Princess That Ran Away from her home. Well, maybe she hadn’t been running away, maybe she had been chased away, but that hardly makes for a good title, does it? Anyway, the Princess gave birth to the Prince, all alone in the woods not too far from here.

The Prince never knew he was a Prince, and the Princess stopped being a Princess and became a Warrior instead. As a Warrior, she was brave and strong, and people feared her as much as they adored her. But, she never forgot her home, even if she could not return to it; she wanted to hold those accountable that took it away from her.

So, she became strong. The Princess That Ran Away became The Warrior That Feared Nothing. Every day, she would grow stronger and stronger, and soon people would follow her footsteps, follow her lead. She was a force to be reckoned with, and she knew it would only be a matter of time until she could take revenge on the one that drove her away from home.

Finally, after so many years of not being The Princess That Ran Away anymore, she found the man responsible – the one that turned her into The Warrior That Feared Nothing. She knew, then, that this would end today, one way or the other, and she was not afraid. With all the people behind her, she was not alone, and she knew, home was more than a place. Home was the people that made it worthwhile, and her home stood strongly with her.

Unafraid, brave and strong, she and her home charged into battle. It was a fierce battle, cold and bloody, but at the end, The Warrior reigned supreme. She had won, and she had avenged her lost home.

She had everything she’s wanted. She was brave, and strong, and beautiful and she was free. She was The Princess That Became A Warrior.”

“What happened to The Prince That Never Was?”

Dandelion just smiled and Radovid would never know if he had intended to answer or not.

“Your Majesty!”

With a start, Radovid turned around. There his two guards were, drenched wet and standing in the door menacingly. Apparently, they had seen the light and had decided to investigate. He could barely suppress a sigh. This respite hadn’t lasted as long as he had hoped and every hope of Dandelion not knowing who he was; had been blown.

“You are very rude, just barrelling into here without knocking. You can knock on wood, you know,” Dandelion said, standing up fluidly.

“We were –“

“Hush hush, I know. Absolutely drenched, aren’t you? And gods, quieten your voices, you’ll wake everyone up! And then I’ll have to explain myself of why I’ve let you in at all and we don’t want that. So, business then – get your boots and clothes off lest you catch sick. I’ll fetch you some cloth from somewhere... you’ll have to make do with what I find. I’ll best be returning to three asses sitting in front of the fire, or you’ll get to know me!”

He turned to leave, back upstairs, but not before shooting a wink in Radovid’s direction.

As ordered, his guards removed their boots but clearly hesitated on their armour.

“Take it off,” Radovid said, “he’s right about that cold, you know.”

With that, his guards hurriedly took off their clothes. He hadn’t meant it as an order, but that’s clearly how it had been perceived. He should take care of the things he said, now. It would be too easy for someone to think it as an order when it was not.

“We worried, Your Majesty,” one guard said then, Hubert his name was.

Radovid clenched his jaw. Yes, he knew. They’d be shit guards to have if they wouldn’t worry if he disappeared. And yet, he felt little remorse. He didn’t want the crown, he didn’t want the throne. He didn’t know what he wanted, nothing’s ever stuck.

“I know,” he just replied, “I’m sorry.”

“No need for an apology, Your Majesty.”

Ah yes, a king should not apologise. He wondered. If he asked Dandelion, could he stay here and become a whore? No, that was a bad idea. There was no running from this, so he might as well get used to it, accept this cruel reality without Vizimir in it.

“We’ll stay here the night, if Dandelion permits it. It would be unwise to return in the rain.”

His two guards nodded, just as said Dandelion sauntered back down the stairs.

“I have been successful in my raid. I’ll admit they are not pretty things, but they are dry. Where are your boots? Gosh men, have you never dried shit by a fire before? Put them right in front of the flame, they shan’t combust.”

“Can we stay here?” Radovid asked, while Dandelion moved the boots closer to the fire.

“Yes, of course,” the man answered easily. “If your things aren’t dry come morning, you’re free to keep what I gave you. You can send someone to fetch your things later – assuming they don’t dry, I can’t stoke the fire anymore now.”

Looking around, Radovid saw that even the sparse people from before had vanished and he argued it must be getting rather late.

With dancing step, the man turned back around and smiled. “Well then lovelies, let us go upstairs. I have a packed day tomorrow, so we’ll get to sleep. Come along now.”

He didn’t wait to see if they followed, and Radovid scrambled to his feet. His guards were clearly torn in between their armour and weapons and following their king. Their duty won quickly, and they swiftly followed them up the stairs.

“You two can sleep here,” Dandelion told the guards. Radovid dared a peek – it seemed to be a spare room, judging by some of the cobwebs clinging to the bed frames.

“We shall stay with His Majesty.”

Dandelion sighed.

“His Majesty will stay with me, and I’m not big on voyeurism you know? Look, we’ll be behind that door,” he pointed two doors down, “so if anything happens, you’ll hear it. And you’re right at the letup of the stairs so nobody can get past you. If you absolutely must, park yourself in front of my door, but do not disturb me. Come, strider.”

He again turned and started walking and Radovid followed, very much not looking at his dazzled guards. Dandelion opened the door and Radovid slipped inside. He looked around the room. It wasn’t very big, and the bed took up most of the space in the room. There was a dresser beside it, and a cloaked mirror in one of the corners.

“Do you live here?” Radovid asked, nothing the absolute lack of personal items. Dandelion laughed.

“No, doe. We are free to use the beds if we’re working late, and with the rain I didn’t want to walk home. Although, considering how often I do stay, then yes, maybe I live here.”

“I – I’m sorry for aski –“

Dandelion shut him up with a soft finger against his lips. “Shush, love, I don’t mind. Now, get naked, pet, will you?”

Radovid squeaked. All those pet names were driving him insane a – and now getting naked?!

“I – I – I – ,” he stammered and Dandelion blinked confused, before laughing again.

“Oh doe, not like that, I just figured you won’t want to sleep in these clothes. Don’t worry, I’m actually very decent, I won’t look I promise.”

“You could though,” Radovid said before his brain caught up but he was rewarded by a smirk.

“Mhm, I’ll remember that, then. Then – undress for me, doe.”

Radovid’s blood was unsure where to go – his head or his groin. With shaking hands, he did as he was ordered, ever under the watchful eye of Dandelion. When he stood there only in his braies, the man raked a look across him.

“Come to bed, strider.”

Radovid followed and oh, this was good. Being told what to do, instead of having to decide? He laid down on the bed and Dandelion was still in his clothes. The only light in here was the pale moonlight shining through the window and the whore looked ethereal. Dandelion laid next to him, and Radovid tried to look into his face for any clue of what was going to happen next. What he found instead, was a soft smile.

“Today was troublesome, wasn’t it? Rest easy here, love, no trouble comes through my door. I’ll protect you from nightmares tonight, rest assured. Here, you are strider, my little lost doe, and nothing more. I’m your dandelion by the wayward road and you can rest with me, safe from your troubles. There are no kings here, no kingdom come, so sleep with me, safe and sound.”

He had moved Radovid’s head onto his arm, and Radovid pressed his face into the crook of the man’s neck. He smelled – well, like sweat mostly. But there was more to it – a flower in the wind, a muddy boot from too much travelling, hair kissed by the sun, hooves hitting the soft mud after rain.

When Radovid closed his eyes, he could see it – the Prince That Never Was, always following behind The Princess That Ran Away but was rather Chased Away instead but that was quite the lengthy title.

The next morning, Radovid woke alone, to a letter:

My dearest doe,

I hope you enjoyed our night together. Alas I am afraid work called me away and I would like you to not look for me. Your two guards have slept in front of our door, they’ll surely complain about sore backs, those brutes.

Your clothes are still very damp, I’m afear, so you shan’t be wearing them. I’ve taken them away, to another room where they may dry away from prying eyes. Send a runner for them soon, yes? Otherwise you’d tempt me into dressing myself in noble silk and we can’t have that!

If the hearth is lit, you’re welcome in, my doe. Chats, quick ones, I’ll do for free. Anymore, and I’ll have to charge you, sadly. Come back anytime, darling strider.

Your wayward flower

Dandelion

#the witcher netflix #writing #fanfiction #the witcher #jaskier #radskier #radovid #mpreg #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher jaskier #alternative universe

2 notes · View notes

deoffal-mp-adm7000-n-s1-2022 · 2 years

Photo

The 57, Part 1:

1. Oni: This first piece is inspired by the likes of painter and illustrator Kawanabe Kyosai, he was considered ‘the demon of painting’ for his graphical works on japanese folkloric creatures, satire and euro giro art, this version of an oni though is so much more western and graphical, almost as if it was drawn by Gustave Dore, or Coop. This is all on purpose, I drew this face to be a fusion of both the idea of the oni as the japanese demon archetype in mythology, but drawn with a western spin that isn’t too dissimilar to our image of demons etc, with oni’s typically being guardian spirits and ogres in japan compared to our western image of them as devils and mischievous blighters. This piece represents the nostalgia of my younger self when finding comfort in the drawing the recognisably alternative with demons and monsters, a fantastical art form that hasn’t changed since the medieval period and even longer still, it’s an animalism of the human portrait, a fallen angel made beast etc, we love images like this still and so this is my tribute to where my roots come from when drawing the odd and alternative as someone who still finds joy in reimagining that immature idea of the monstrous and caricatured.

2. Drachen: This piece is very similar to the last in concept too, Drachen being the German for dragon, why German? Well because when I think of western ideas of fantasy I think of norse dragons and pagan deities, German folktales like Hansel and Gretel, the brothers Grimm etc. It again strikes an immature love affair within me to think that even those as dark as Lovecraft once loved the traditional of fantastical monsters and european images of folklore of knights and dragons, such in the that of Beowulf, one of the oldest western fantasies of which has a dragon too. This image is based on more of the Jabberwocky in appearance though as described in Lewis Carrol’s surrealist dream in Through the Looking Glass (1871), so this dragon is more basilisk than Wyvern per say.

3. Reduce: This image is a nod to old body horror, that of the films of John Carpenter, Ridley Scott and John Romero, melting zombies, exploding corpses and horrific metamorphosis. The idea of the focus on reduction being that to make horror you have to know the fundamentals to exploit and extrapolate greater reactions from the audience, after all, I wouldn’t be able to reinvent human anatomy and the structure of the typical portrait without knowing the basics of composition, morphology and again anatomy on a scientific level almost, so the reduction is to reduce something to a fundamental state so as to better reimagine and exaggerate it in your own version of it.

4. Bite: This piece has been used as all my current profile pictures, I love it’s Madonna esque positioning, it’s almost as if Francis Bacon chose to paint Madonna, with the focus on the mouth and the bulbous ballooned head making for quite the strong contrast against the white background, white backgrounds only being used when I feel too much detail would be lost by smothering an image with a black background without proper intent for it of course. This piece has been discussed before as a representation of oral sensation and man’s oral curiosity, after all alot sexual gratification is not too dissimilar to satiating yourself and feeding yourself to the point of full climax, as the brain response and release of dopamine in both scenarios is not too dissimilar when you study the data here and there. People have impulses to bite each other and to feed off of each other sexually, it’s why oral sex is so common nowadays and why it’s such a popular search term on porn sites, people want to gratify all their senses to experience overall climax rather than neglecting aspects of their body that most may shame them for experimenting with. Is it no wonder that people like Jeffrey Dahmer, Ted Bundy, Issei Sagawa all turned to cannibalism once they killed their victims? Just a thing to think about, though for most it’s merely about playing with the noumena with all your senses, not just the assumed for every scenario.

5. Hickey: This again isn’t too dissimilar of an idea compared to the last piece, this time based on the literal act of sucking on the body of another person as if we were leeches in the time of feeding, another very common and normative practice now, makes you think that cannibalism isn’t such a ridiculous fetish to consider in the macro, that of taking pleasure in connecting with other people by actively softcore consuming or attaching your to them as a shown of affection or connection all together, it’s why people kiss and snuggle, affection can be cannibalistic and in turn can scare alot of people quite easy in my opinion, it can be associated with the fears of being smothered by love and contemporary relationships but most people long for that union out of instinct as any psychologist and zoologist could tell you.

6. Paranoia: I used to be far more paranoid than I am now, but most people don’t realise that the contemporary issues of social media and interpersonal connections nowadays stem from a form of social schizophrenia, wherein people are so afraid to think for themselves, speak up for themselves and live for themselves without feeling a voice moan in their own head or to imagine what everyone is going to say, it’s the feeling of having eyes on you and waiting for the next person to live rent free in your mind that has made my generation so afraid of it’s self and everyone else around them. It’s almost as if arguing more technology and access to it has actually opened so much more of a pandora’s box type problematic, where people are more switched on then ever and paranoid of every decision they make so as to not be judged by the person next to them, what a world.

7. Plant: This piece is a simpler image, that of imaging plant life, fungus, extremophiles and various other flora as sharing the same conscious judgement we do, as discussed constantly in the works of Algernon Blackwood, discussed best in his work ‘The Man Whom Whom The Trees Loved’ (1912), the main plot being that a couple who live in the woods are confronted by the ever approaching yet distant outer world of the natural world, the trees as their sentinel against the human world and the supernatural. The trees want the husband as he is a naturalist who admires nature’s majesty in all it’s glory and eventually can’t leave the forest for the sake of his wife’s concerns, he is eventually made one with the woods and the audience is left to consider the narrative “who ever said that plant life and fungus, something of which we are actually 30% too biologically, could be considered lesser or incapable of sentience? how could you prove a trees intelligence or nature’s full capabilities when we measure everything by human logic? Who’s to say we aren’t the dumbasses merely trespassing on Gaia's lawn?”.

8. Gregory: This piece is more science fiction based and still has a focus on literary reimagining through illustration, this piece being both inspired by David Cronenberg's film ‘The Fly’ (1986) and Franz Kafka’s ‘The Metamorphosis’, the fly follows the narrative that the sciences have their limit and that man should be careful when playing god or attempting to fight nature, becoming an entity that slowly degenerates over time the longer he transforms into a bug due to having his cells fused with a bug during a teleportation test, this was inspired by Kafka’s most famous work ‘The Metamorphosis’, as the lead character Gregor Samsa becomes a bug like creature one day and transforms into someone incapable of autonomy and independent living, afraid of dying as a burden to his family and the state, he goes into the woods to die alone. Both deal in themes of reimaging the use of allegory to test our sensibilities, whether that be by the lenses of science fiction in the fly or the satirical ideas of Kafka in the metamorphosis, the idea remains the same, using a introspective reimagining of the profile and portrait of man to teach a lesson on ethics and humanism in the face of the abhuman and unknown noumenal world, is something we have been doing since the days of dragons and ogres as mentioned before.

9. Pressure: This piece is simple enough, pressure, both social and professional drain me to the point of feeling as if my body can no longer carry itself, but getting up each day to revitalise myself is all I can do, it’s all anyone can do in spite of this time of immense generational pressure and it’s greater impact on our physical and mental health, it’s something academics like Jordan Peterson see all too well and often, knowing full well that suicide rates are up and mental illness treatment hasn’t gotten better, the problem just becomes harder to measure the larger it gets and the more minute its actions seem to be. As someone is especially sensitive to touch and can feel their body’s response to excessive social and physical activity, It might as well feel as if my body was melting or falling to pieces, it’s a genuine issue not to overcome this contemporary fatigue and terror in everyday post-modern reality.

10. Vicarious: This piece speaks for itself, people are so afraid of their own potential and ability that they would rather live through someone else, be someone else or follow someone else to the ends of the earth, and fads, fashion, snake oils salesmen, false icons and idols looking to make a quick buck on your insecurities and fears, and life gurus have always existed, all they’ve ever needed with each new generation is a rebrand and a new identity to leech through. I’m not saying I’m innocent in this either though, I operate out of an alias, but that’s only because I know that each person is given 3 faces in life, most forget that you have a face for the world (Deoffal Maldoror, the brand and identity), the face for your family (The interpersonal you and your superego), and the face for yourself (your ego and it’s constant competition against the id). This concept was most popular among Japanese proverbs, I don’t know why personally, but it always comes back to me as such an important concept, when everyone is attempting to share faces and live vicariously, never forget there is more than one you and depending on which one offers the most amount of conflict you may have to rebrand it to better suit your individuality against everyone else, I certainly, I ain’t sharing my face with anyone, that’s why I like keeping so private where I can. Living vicariously is just another form of social dependency and obsessive actualising in the interpersonal world, no greater fad has existed in memes and the zeitgeist ever when it comes to representing a generational problem with independent thought and responsibility for one’s actions. But there’s always going to be more herds then shepherds so you have to pick which lane best represents you honestly and objectively in life, which is a concept as nietzschean and epicurean as god being dead.

2 notes · View notes

miafreemandesignpractiseone · 3 months

Text

Liquid

/ˈlɪkwɪd/

noun

a substance that flows freely but is of constant volume, having a consistency like that of water or oil. Similar: fluid, moisture, wet, wetness, damp, dampness, liquor, solution, juice, sap, secretion

adjective

having the consistency of a liquid. Similar: fluid, flowing, running, runny, watery, thin, sloppy, aqueous, liquefied, melted, molten, thawed, dissolved, uncongealed, hydrous

(of a sound) clear, pure, and flowing; harmonious. Similar: pure, clear, smooth, fluent, distinct, clarion, mellifluous, dulcet, mellow, sweet, sweet-sounding, sweet-toned, soft, melodious

EXPLORATION

To explore the word liquid through my practise I decided to mix paints with water to see the flow of the water with colour. I had a couple different paints, sponges and brushes, so I started off with just putting paint of paper. One of the paints I had came with an eye dropper, so I just had fun dropping it all over the paper. Sometimes it made these little bubbles that looked quite cool. I was hoping that they would dry and create this perfect circles with a clean outline but once the bubble popped the excess liquid just seeped towards the middle of the circle.

I really love the texture that dried pant can create. I used a sponge roller to roll paint out and a bone folder to smear it across.

Since it was raining today, I wanted to see how the rain would interact with paint. I spread some paint on paper and just left it out in the rain to see how it would spread and what it would look like.

Rain & paint series

It was really interesting to come back every couple of minutes and see how the paint was reacting and moving with the rain. The droplets would also leave impressions of the thicker bits of paint and create quite an interesting texture.

One of my flatmates suggested mixing paint and water in the sink and putting a piece of paper over top to see how the paper would pick up the paint and water.

Paint & water mixed together.

The paint mixing around in the sink made some quite cool patterns (could be used as background textures?) but the paper didn't pick up the swirls of the water. It more just soaked up the colour like it had been dyed.

Left - first attempt at dipping paper into paint & water mix. Right - used sponges and my hands to transfer the paint and water mix onto paper.

I tried out using sponges or my hands to transfer the paint and water mix into the sink instead, which again had a similar affect but was able to pick up a slight difference in colour.

When draining the water from the sink, I saw that some of the paint hadn't mixed properly but it had this cool mix of colours and I decided to press a piece of paper onto it. This was probably one of the funner explorations.

I think it would be fun to print on top of all these different water & paint explorations and and use them as textured backgrounds. This is something I want to explore next.

My flatmate also offered my her watercolours to paint with. I haven't properly painted since high school so I wanted to try and paint a proper realistic image. I drew this cropped image from a reference, but I decided to make the tones really colourful and bright. I really love how artists can use different colours you don't think about using when painting skin (like blues and greens) to portray emotion and different lighting, which is why I used really bright colours to play with shadow and highlights.

I'm really happy with how this artwork turned out (It's given me a lot more confidence in my painting skills!) and I think it would be interesting to take this image and overlay it over the textures I created with the paint and water.

#week one

0 notes

achitka · 2 years

Text

Doors (Chapter 26) Into the woods

Chapter 25: Into the Woods

Summary:

Things get a bit tricky from here...hoping I don't lose track of anyone

-----------------

As Pepa sat Bruno down the rats with him scurried forward. Two from behind his hair, and the two in his shirt pocket. They squeaked furiously at Pepa, and she drew back, but was not put off. Bruno said, “They’re just hungry,” he went to get up but was stopped when he noticed what Julieta had in her hand. The small cloth covered bundle likely had some food for the rats.

“I was going to give this to you at supper,” she said giving him that look she used on her kids when they were being irresponsible.

“Thanks, Juli,” Bruno said a bit sheepishly.

“Oh, can I feed them Tío?” Luisa asked. Bruno nodded so Julieta handed the food to her, and she smiled as she moved closer. She collected the four who were with him and went to the wall of cubbies where the rest of Bruno’s friends were waiting. She was going to be an awesome vet.

“Okay, no more stalling,” Pepa said leaning back in, “Spill it hermanito.” As much as being called little brother used to irritate him, Bruno discovered it was something he actually missed. Not that he’d never let Pepa know that, but he smiled as Julieta said, “Hermanita, personal space.”

Someone snickered in the background and Pepa shot Juli a look. The small cloud that appeared winked in and out of existence in the space of a few seconds and Bruno had to admit he was very impressed. It put a smile over his dour expression that he’d been hanging on to in hopes of getting his family to leave. Pepa patted his head and was actually smiling as she moved away from him to stand next to the chair Félix was sitting in. Again, Bruno was taken aback by how different everything was. The fact that his mother had not said a word was also something he was not used to. She usually always had something to say on everything. She was there on the sofa with Mirabel who was listening wide-eyed to whatever his mother was whispering about. Bruno decided he didn’t want to know but as he watched them, she turned to him and asked, “So Bruno, just tell us. Does that door lead to the Church of St. Agustín in Bogotá?”

Everyone and everything went silent, including the rats as Bruno cleared his throat and said trying his hardest to sound conversational and not too excited, “Yes. It is a beautiful Church by the way, stayed for afternoon Mass.” From there Bruno recounted his adventures. From his walk through the plaza shops, to his conversations with Pedro the appliance salesman. The radio, he saved for the very last. It garnered a lot of attention when he pulled it out and turned it on. The crackle of the white noise elicited several ooos and aaahs. Julieta frowned when he told her that he’d traded her bottle for it. He wanted to feel bad about it but was so pleased with the device he found he could not muster a proper level of guilt to be sorry.

“What’s done is done,” she said and asked, “Was it at least empty?”

“Yes, I mean he was actually more interested in glass…said his wife collects such things.”

“Odd,” Pepa said, and a tiny cloud formed over her.

“Said the lady with the cloud,” Bruno quipped and Pepa threw a pillow from the sofa at him. It bounced off his head and he picked it up, pulling at the fringe along the border. One more detail to tell them. “There is one other thing…my Gift was active outside the Encanto.”

Uproar ensued and Dolores immediately shouted for quiet. Bruno liked that his sobrina was doing more than just covering her ears when people got too loud around her. She’d not only stepped out of Isa’s shadow she was casting one. After a round of apologies, there were discussions regarding how this could be useful. Agustín had knelt next to his wife, he looked over at Luisa then he nodded before he straightened. Pepa was listening to Félix with a surprised look and nodding every once in a while, she glanced over at him and smiled when she realized he was looking at her. Isabela had a faraway look as she gazed out his window. It was no secret she wanted to leave the Encanto and travel. Dolores and Camilo were now next to their parents listening intently. Mirabel was off the sofa and moved closer to Luisa who was still feeding bits of arepa to the rats. She reached up and tugged gently on her sister’s arm to get her attention and said, “This is so exciting, Luisa. I wonder how close the church is to the college?” Luisa paused and smiled, clearly not wanting to get her hopes up.

“It would be nice if it was,” she said noncommittally, and noticed Mirabel was petting the smallest of the rats he’d named Pepito. “You wanna feed a couple?” Luisa asked.

“Yes.”

Luisa broke off a piece of cheese from the bundle and seeing that new food item sent the rodents into a short frenzy. Bruno smiled remembering the time he’d raided the larder and brought back some cake along with the arepa’s he usually pilfered. The rats with him then, had pretty much the same reaction. Ah, the good old bad days, he thought. Bruno rubbed his temples twisted his neck to try and loosen his muscles. It wasn’t a sponty, those he couldn’t put off. This was a full-on vision and those he could delay for a short time. It irritated him that something in the ether was once again demanding his attention and he thought, ‘Seriously, can’t this wait?’

It was his mother who noticed from her seat on the sofa. She was not really interacting with anyone unless they spoke to her first but was carefully watching everyone else. To Bruno, she appeared to be nervous and just a little anxious, but she looked mostly calm? At the moment she was watching him, and Bruno meant to smile, but instead his teeth clenched when his neck went stiff.

She looked genuinely concerned as she got up and said, “I think,” and she raised her voice just enough to be heard over everyone else, “it’s time for us to go. We can talk about this more after breakfast. The town meeting has been rescheduled for tomorrow morning at 10:00, so it would be best if everyone got some rest.” She turned toward him then and said, “Bruno, please don’t go off on your own without at least letting someone know what you’re doing. What if you’d been hurt? Or the door locked on the other side, and we could not get you back?”

Bruno’s teeth unclenched as his half smile turned into a full one and he said, “I won’t Mama. I’m sorry if I worried you.” She nodded, accepting his answer and Bruno once again was taken aback by the change or rather return of her younger self. The one that was trusting, patient and kind with her family. His family began filing out of his room, quietly chatting and as Mirabel walked past him, Bruno felt a half-remembered twinge. It took him by surprise because it was something that he’d not felt for a really long time, though he knew it somehow was related to his Gift and to magic itself. It was also something he’d never completely understood. It was that unexpected that even though he wanted everyone out he said, “Félix, Gus, can you both stay for a minute?”

Agustín nodded and Félix raised an eyebrow as both sat back on the sofa. His sisters stopped and Julieta asked, “Is everything okay, Bruno?”

Bruno did not remember whether he had ever talked to either of his sisters about this quirk. It only happened twice and both time it had spooked him for days. He did not want to worry them or even try and explain it, so he nodded and said, “Just need to get my cuñados opinions on something,” and hefted the radio he was still holding hoping it would do for an answer. Though neither seemed convinced, Julieta nodded, but Pepa fixed him with an appraising look as they exited and shut the door.

He sat for a moment in silence and said before he started, “Doli, I love you sobrina, but would you mind? Your Dad and Tío too.” This caused Félix and Agustín exchanged worried looks, but he needed to sort this out.

Bruno sat in silence for a few more minutes, he still had the pillow Pepa had tossed and was pulling at the fringe trying to find the best way of telling his cuñados what he was thinking. The problem he was facing was that he was not sure what he was thinking. But the feeling that something was off would not subside, and it had everything to do with the things he’d been seeing lately.

“Bruno,” Agustín said, “Just say whatever it is.”

Félix nodded and nudged him, “Does it have something to do with the red door?”

Bruno looked up and said, “No, it’s more to do with the spontys I’ve been having lately and the sketches I drew for Mamá.”

“The ones about the people in the forest?”

“Yes. I don’t think I’ve been looking at them properly.”

Félix and Agustín exchanged looks and Agustín said, “In what way?”

“I don’t know, just a feeling I got, but I think I need to gather them all up and look at them again.”

“The kids had some of them in Isabela’s room earlier,” Félix said.

“And a vision tablet.” Agustín added.

“Right,” Bruno said, and he went to the desk and pulled out another small stack of sketches. As they headed toward the door, he pushed back the need to deal with the vision waiting for him. Hopefully, it could wait a few hours.

------------------------

(…Doli, I love you sobrina, but would you mind? Your Dad and Tío too...)

Dolores squeaked and immediately shut out their voices. She’d made a promise to the family and herself that she wouldn’t try to eavesdrop on family conversations. Especially if she was specifically asked not to. They’d gone back to Isa’s room to talk about their plans some more, with Mira, Luisa, and Camilo. Everyone noticed her jump but didn’t ask. They knew she’d tell them if it was needful. The thing was it was harder to not listen than listen…so she decided to cast her hearing toward the mountains. Good distraction that. While she was not expecting to hear anything, she was surprised to hear a dog. It was growling.

A woman’s voice (…chhh…) the voice had a strange echo to it. A cave maybe?

The dog went silent, but Dolores could hear the dog panting as well as the breathing of several people. She focused on each realizing a good number of them were children. Tío sketches showed her this woman’s face. Dolores was sure they were one in the same. She moved further from her family so as not to be distracted and sat on Isabela’s bed keeping her eyes focused on the floor. Camilo knew what she was doing, he’d seen her do this before. His voice was hollow, like he was in another room as she faintly heard him say, “Everyone stay quiet.”

After a few minutes Dolores could hear the sound of at least five maybe six people walking on stony ground. But it was a slow walk, everyone must be very tired. The group came to a halt.

A man’s voice (…You said their tracks went this way old man…) there was a dangerous note of anger there.

Older man (…The ground here is extremely hard, and there’s been no rain. Sign is harder to see in those conditions. Perhaps they doubled back…) This man was lying.

1st man (…I’m tired of your excuses…) there was no answer from the old man, instead Dolores heard the sound of someone being struck quite hard, followed by the sound of a body hitting the ground.

2nd man (…It’s getting dark, we should head back to camp…)

There was no audible answer from the 1st man only movement of some kind.

2nd man (…what about him?...)

1st man (…leave him…)

2nd ma (…alright everyone, looks like another dead end, Back to camp…)

There were grunts but none contradicted the order, so the group left but were not moving much faster than when they’d arrived. Dolores followed the sound of their steps until she couldn’t hear them anymore and looked up to see her brother and primas all in front of her. Mirabel was on her knees holding the vision tablet tightly to her with her sisters on either side and Camilo in front. Her concern for these people must have been showing on her face because they were praying, but silently. Dolores refocused her attention on the woman’s breathing. She was calmer now and Dolores listened for the children. One was weeping quietly almost silently.

Woman (…They’ve gone, okay, mis pequeños. Water for everyone then it’s time to go…)

2nd Woman (…Doris, they need to eat…)

Doris (…I know, mi vida, but we cannot stay here. We need to put as much distance between us and them as we can…)

Inez (…What about Fernando?...)

There was a pause, and Doris said, (…He’ll follow if he can…)

Inez (…At least let me give them some bread and cheese…)

Doris (…Fine, they can eat while they walk…)

Dolores squeaked but made a mental note of where the voices were coming from. Everyone looked at her and she said, “They’re close enough for me to hear them, but still a ways off. Just on the edge. Like Tío said, they are being pursued.” Dolores gestured to Mirabel, and she handed her the tablet. Dolores turned it around and pointed to the angry woman. “I believe her name is Doris, and the woman behind her is Inez. There’s someone else, an older man named Fernando but…” Luisa was going through the sketches and held up one of an older man and younger who appeared to be arguing. “That one,” Dolores said pointing to the older man, “That must be Fernando...I’m not completely sure but he was doing his best to slow the pursuers down. All I could tell for sure was that he was not telling the other the truth.”

“Was?” Isabela asked.

Dolores paused and said taking the sketch. “I believe he is the leader of that group,” she said and pointed to the younger man in the sketch, “This one is dangerous. He struck this other man and left him unconscious in the mountains.”

“What?” Isa said as she stood up, “Should we try and find them?”

“I don’t know how we could. I only have a very general idea of where they are.”

“How many do you think?” Luisa asked.

“I don’t know. There were at least five, maybe six others with this one. They talked about going back to a camp before dark. I couldn’t follow their steps for more than a few minutes.”

Dolores looked to her brother, but he was watching Mirabel, who was sitting off to the side, her fingers tapping on her knees. She did not seem to be paying attention but was instead staring past everyone, looking at no one. Thing was, while it may not seem like Mirabel was listening, she was listening. Camilo looked back at Dolores as he moved to squat down in front of Mirabel asking quietly, “Hey there, prima, what’s going on in that head of yours?” She didn’t answer so Camilo gave her a poke “…Mira?”

Mirabel started and looked around for a moment as if just remembering what she was doing and said, “Sorry, I was just thinking about the path in the tower,” she said as she got up, “When Tío brought me up there before, I thought I heard someone calling out for help. I thought it was my imagination. Now I’m not so sure.”

Dolores still holding the tablet was moving then toward the door. “Where are you going?” Isabela asked.

“The tower,” Dolores replied, “If the voices are louder there, then perhaps we can get to them more quickly.”

Luisa already collected the sketches, and everyone was up and moved into the hallway, walking quickly toward the tower stairs, except for Mirabel who was heading toward her room, “I’ll catch up,” she said over her shoulder.

“I’ll go with her,” Luisa said handing off the paper to Isabela and followed after her sister who had not slowed.

The rest of the group continued on only to stop again when Tío Bruno’s door opened and her father and Tíos came into the hallway. “Where are you three off to?”

Dolores said, “The tower.”

Her father looked at Tío Bruno and all three of them said, “No.”

“But why not?” Camilo asked.

“Reasons,” her father said.

“And those reasons are…?” Camilo was not one to talk back to their father and Dolores was wondering what he was thinking.

“Where are Mirabel and Luisa?” Tío Agustín asked.

“In her room,” Isa said.

“You know,” Tío Bruno said, and took the tablet from Dolores, “how about we all meet down in the dining room so we can discuss this.” And tapped the tablet. It made a soft ringing sound that Dolores found appealing.

Camilo had grown more independent since the breaking and did not like being told he couldn’t go somewhere. Dolores elbowed his arm to forestall him saying something else and said, “Okay Tío,” and pulled her brother after her toward the stairs. Isabela had her arms crossed and she heard Tío Agustín say, “I’ll explain downstairs, Isa.”

Camilo pulled his arm loose and halted on the landing. “Quit dragging me around like I’m five, Dolores.”

“I’m sorry Camilo, but I needed to get you away.”

“Why?”

“Something’s wrong, I can hear it in their voices,” Dolores said. “Mostly Tío Bruno.”

Isa caught up with Dolores and Camilo on the stairs. “They seem really weirded out,” Isa said and together they entered the kitchen to find their mothers and Abuela having tea and chatting.

“What brings you three down here?” her mother asked.

Before they could answer that Tía Julieta asked, “Are those Bruno’s sketches?”

“Yes,” Isabela said and set them on the table, “We were going to go up to the tower to see if Doli could hear them better up there.”

“You can hear them, Corazón?” her mother asked.

Dolores nodded and said, “Only just.”

“Then where are Mirabel and Luisa?”

“Mirabel’s roo-” Dolores paused as she answered.

“No, no she is not,” her father said walking into dining room.

“She’s in the tower now,” Dolores said.

“She must have gone to the tower from my room,” Abuela said getting up, “Was the door missing?”

“Yes,” Félix answered.

“Dios Mio,” Tía Julieta said sounding quite vexed and she was up as well.

“Luisa is with her, Mamá. She won’t let her do anything too Mirabel-ish.” Isa said and shook her head.

Tía Julieta nodded but started for the stairs.

“Gus and Bruno went up there, I came to get you all.”

“Why not just tell me from where you were?” Dolores asked.

Félix’s eyebrows went up and he said, “Sorry, mi vida. Slipped my mind.”

Dolores smiled, that’s what he always said. Her Papí seldom to never tried to talk to her from a distance. He preferred speaking to people face to face, including her, regardless of how many times Abuela had told him he should. Dolores always found it to be the perfect distraction when the voices got to be a bit much. Dolores looked at everyone in the room and asked, “Where is Camilo?

Next Chapter

Previous Chapter

#encanto fanfic #disney encanto #encanto 2021 #camilo madrigal #isabela madrigal #luisa madrigal #dolores madrigal #mirabel madrigal #antonio madrigal #julieta madrigal #pepa madrigal #encanto fanfiction #abuela alma madrigal #don't do anything too mirabelish

1 note · View note

evobedevo · 2 years

Text

Finally, a proper color scheme and design for Esther! She's deserved one for a while now. I'm quite happy with how she came out, this design is actually really cute. Gives her a quirk that I don't think any of the other girls fill. She's very indecisive, and tends to mash up designs she thinks are cute...even if they don't exactly work together.

Realms of Influence

-Color: Magenta

-Theme: Nature and Elements

-Realm of Creativity: Personality Traits and other Aspects of Character Design.

Character Break Down:

"Full Name": Esther Dulcinea Salvalma

Sexual Orientation: She's bisexual, but maaaaaaaan does she have bad luck with romance.

Age: 24

Birthday: February 1st

Ethnicity: Pinoy-Australian

Eye Color: Hazel, with a bead of green around her pupil.

Hair Color: Chestnut, but it's not naturally that way. It's usually a lighter brown.

Height: 5'7''

Weight: 171lbs

Cup Size: D Cup, she's much more proud of her thicc thighs though.

Other Features: Her bangs cover the front of her eyes for some reason, just like Bianca. She loves wearing croptops, especially ruffled ones, and due to her well defined abs and fit physique, it definitely suits her. Things with detached sleeves and the like are also big with her. When she grins super hard (its common), her eyes almost seem to just disappear under her bangs. Always wears magentas and browns, basically looks like a walking Valentines Day card. She plays up her cute genki girl attitude for maximum attraction. Absolutely *loves* things with bows. Her style seems to be a mish-mash of super girly stuff and casual athletic wear. Like she'll wear a tank top with a really frilly skirt, or a cashmere sweater with ballerina flats and tights and leotard. She has a massively varied outfit, and doesn't mind if she looks silly, she just enjoys feeling good in her outfits.

Overall Attitude: Esther is probably the "anti-Illia", a spunky girl who jumps into the fray no matter the concern. She's a hotheaded go-getter with a weirdly high amount of energy and a genuine passion for life. Which tends to mean doing very big and very dumb stunts to get the full enjoyment of the world. Esther is prone to pretty much showing up in whatever outfit she feels best in, even if it doesn't quite make sense for the occasion. This plays into the fact that she's rather...ill informed of how social norms are. Looking at how she acts, you'd think she came from a different country altogether. She's very in tune with her emotions, and wears them on her sleeve. This is what allows her to do her job so well, as she's the Architect of the Soul, coming up with the descriptions of the characters after Illustro creates them.

Problems: I'm surprised I never drew an ahoge on her head, cause she's kiiiiiind of dumb. She's very much like a Labrador puppy. Cute and adorable, but also doesn't know her own strength, seems to have traded intelligence for friendliness points, and once she gets going with something, she will not stop...even if she's obviously wrong. She's also very forceful, and oblivious at times, so she has a habit of accidentally forcing people to do stuff, even if they reeeeeally don't want to by sheer force of will and encouragement.

Phobias: Surprisingly, for her go getter attitude, she has a big fear of needles and underground places. So caves are especially terrifying to her.

Style and Mannerisms: Easily flips back and forth between speaking rapid fire Filipino, Spanish, and English. If you aren't trilingual, it'll be almost impossible to keep up with anything she says. She's very touchy, and she'll absolutely embrace anyone in a massive hug (she's also surprisingly strong.) Usually can be seen rocking back and forth on her heels, as she's not a big fan of standing still. She's remarkably fast, and has in fact done the "naruto run" at least a few times in her life. She's definitely big on memes, and if you pay attention to the backgrounds of certain comics, she will absolutely be cameoing somehow doing some sort of meme. Always at the front of the line if walking with a group, chastising everyone fore being too slow. She has an aversion to nicknames, though is a bit hypocritical since she uses them on others repeatedly.

Relationships: She tries so hard here, but ultimately her luck with people just isn't good enough. She tends to either intimidate or scare off potential love interests. Illustro likes to tease her about it. In fact, the two share a very sibling like relationship, with all the ups and downs.

Likes: Travelling, exploring world cultures is one of her weak points, and if she's in a country, she will absolutely get absorbed into it, picking up the fashion, food, mannerisms, and etc in less than a week. She's like a chameleon, it's actually really impressive. She's also big on composing music, although she's still learning the ropes in that regard. Movies are her bread and butter, and she will obsess over film and cinema history.

Moral Alignment: Chaotic Good.

Powers:

-Serif-im is exceptionally sharp and precise. The blade never dulls, but more importantly, she can look into her enemies history, personality, and etc and just...rewrite it. Rohan Kishibe style. She's really skilled with the sword too, giving it properties if she can write about it on any surface. Sound effects come to life as well.

-Her realm of influence granted to her by being a Guardian is "Nature and Elements", granting her full control of flora, fauna and the classical elements alike...however due to her preferences, she tends to stick to water and ocean themed abilities.

Weaknesses: Physically, she's just a human. While the abilities granted to her by the sword do help, it isn't exactly HARD to overpower her or the other Guardians.

-She has NO patience for plans and can almost be guaranteed to stray from them if possible. If you need to find the weak link to break the structure of the team, she's usually it.

Favorites:

Color: Magenta, maroon, scarlet, light pink, and chocolate.

Animal: Sheep, seals, pretty much every sea creature at all.

Places: Pshh, try places she doesn't like for a shorter list.

Food: Meatloaf and Strawberry flavored sodas.

Media: Film

Songs Associated with Her:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=jX9KYx… "Groove Is In The Heart Vs. Le Freak" DJ Hero 2

www.youtube.com/watch?v=hoWyne… "K2G" Hi Hi Puffy Ami Yumi

www.youtube.com/watch?v=voMXqN… "Bomb Rush Blush (Smash Mix)" Tomoya Ohtani

Possible Voice Actress:

Christine Marie Cabanos, mainly because she's got the spunk with Filia in Skullgirls, SquidGirl in...the show of the same name, and other roles. But honestly, I can just sorta see her voice coming from Esther's looks alone.

#pink #magenta #spunky #energy #genki girl #keet #crop top #shorts #sword #oc #sona

0 notes

deepestfancloud · 2 years

Text

The Priest Part 2

Pairing: Drew Starkey x Reader. Reading from his POV.

Author’s note/ Summery: There are many rules a priest can’t break. A priest cannot marry. A priest cannot abandon his flock. A priest cannot harm the sacred trust his parish has put in him. Rules that seem obvious. Rules that I remember as I knot my cincture. Rules that I vow to live by as I pull on my chasuble and adjust my stole. I’ve always been good at following rules. Until Y/N came. Several months ago, I broke my vow of celibacy on the altar of my own church, and God help me, I would do it again. I am a priest and this is my confession.

Warning: Oral (female receiving). Dirty talk. Hand job. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms. Grinding on each other. And doing all of this in the church.

Flashback*

He asked me to come closer. It was a command, and Lord help me, I’ve always responded to commands. I walked over to him, and he ran a hand up my flank to where my skirt hung just below my ass. His wedding ring glinted in the low neon light of the room. His fucking wedding ring from his fucking marriage.

I tried to pull back, but he reached up and grabbed my arm.

And then he said, “You know why I didn’t marry you, Y/N?” He was caressing the inside of my thigh now and I couldn’t help it, I took a tiny step to the side, just to widen my legs the smallest bit.

He smiled and went on. “It’s not because I didn’t want to be married to you. God knows that with your family and your money and your brains, on paper you would have been the perfect wife. But we both know better, don’t we, Y/N?”

His fingers finally found what they were looking for, my lace thong, and he curled his fingers around the fabric and ripped, the flimsy material tearing easily, granting him access to my cunt.

“Deep down,” he said, continuing his earlier train of thought, touching me, touching me so much now, “deep down, we both know that you’re a little slut. Yes, with a perfect background and a perfect education, but you were made for being a whore, Y/N, not a wife.”

I told him to fuck off, and then he said, “Do you think I just showed up here accidentally? I’ve been looking for you for three years. You’re mine or have you forgotten?”

How could I be his when he had a fucking wife? I asked him that.

And he responded that he didn’t give a shit about her—which is probably the truth. But he told me he married her because he needed someone proper, someone he wouldn’t worry about his clients wanting to fuck.

And then he said that wasn’t me. Said I screamed sex with my tits and my mouth, and not only did I always want it, but I always looked like I wanted it. And he couldn’t have that in the precious family portrait.

The worst thing was, I knew he wasn’t saying it like an insult. Those were just the facts. People like us weren’t supposed to be this way. We were supposed to be reserved and cold. Thin and bloodless. Sex was either a necessity or a calculated affair. And now Austin wanted me to be his alculated affair. I had loved him and he wanted to keep me as his pet mistress, in a box that had no place for real love or a real future.

But while I was thinking all of this, he was unzipping himself, and he was so hard, so mouthwateringly hard, and I couldn’t help it—I knew he was married, I knew he was an asshole, but it had been so long, too long, and I had loved him once…

Are you judging me right now, Father Starkey? Are you thinking about what a dumb bitch I am? I know you aren’t, you aren’t like Austin and me. The words “dumb” and “bitch” have probably never even come out of your mouth in the same sentence. But I was thinking it then, just like I’m thinking it now. I was stupid. But I was also lonely and heartbroken and so fucking wet it was dripping down my thighs.

Then I let him fuck me. Because he was right, I do like it, I do always want it. And as he slammed into me over and over again, I told him to tell me the fantasy, this life he was offering me. And he did, goddamn him, and it all sounded so perfect coming from his lying businessman’s mouth. He told me about the lazy afternoons we’d spend together, the expensive restaurants he’d take me to, the orgasms he’d give me on top of smooth Egyptian cotton sheets. He told me about the flowers and jewelry and vacations in Bora Bora and expensive cars and everything else that would fill up our illicit life together, all while I ground myself on his cock, ground myself towards the best orgasm I’d had since college.

He was cursing by this point, folding me over the bench and driving into me from behind while he pressed my face against the leather and I felt the cold metal of his wedding ring against my hip. It was degrading and terrible and I came almost immediately.

And then I came again.

End of Flashback*

“And that’s my real sin,” Y/N finished. “That’s my real shame. I can’t sleep at night knowing that I let him—let myself—” She broke off and there was a moment of silence which I didn’t interrupt, both out of respect for her and also because I didn’t trust my voice. Her confession had been so raw—so fucking detailed—and I was filled with rage at this Austin asshole and sorrow for her and also a fierce, unshakable jealousy that just weeks ago, he got to be inside her and he didn’t deserve it, not one bit.

But mostly I was so fucking hard I couldn’t think straight.

“I let myself come,” she said finally, in a quiet, sad voice. “He is a married man and he cheated on me for years and he wasn’t even sorry, but I still not only fucked him, but I came. I came twice. What does it matter that I made him leave right after it happened? What kind of girl still does that?”

I needed to say something, needed to help her, but fuck, it was so difficult to focus on anything other than the image of her face pressed into the seat as she gasped her way through multiple orgasms. I was going to hell for even thinking this, especially since I wanted to punch Austin in the windpipe for acting on it, but it was almost unbearably sexy that those rough kinds of things got her off. Because they got me off too, and it had been so long since I’d had a woman whimpering under my touch…

You’re no better than him, I castigated myself. Fucking get it together. Feelings, focus on her feelings. “How did it feel?”

“How did it feel? It felt amazing. Like he was claiming me from the inside out, and when he came inside of me, it felt like he was marking me as his property, and it was his climax that made me orgasm again. I can’t help it—a guy coming is the hottest fucking thing, especially when I can feel it inside of me…”

My head fell back against the wood of the booth with an audible thud. “I meant—” I said in a strangled voice “—how did it feel emotionally?”

“Oh,” and then the breathy little laugh, and then fuck it, I’d go to hell, because I couldn’t not rub myself now. I was so hard that I could feel every ridge and slope of myself through my pants. My other hand toyed with my zipper as I stroked, trying to keep my breathing silent. Could I unzip myself quietly enough that she wouldn’t hear? Could I jack myself right here in the booth without her knowing?

Because there was no way I could live without it at this point. Her words were carved into my mind, and they would be there forever.

“I guess it made me feel like Austin was right. I am a whore, aren’t I? I had a debutante ball and my family was listed in the Social Register and I have dressage trophies—but that doesn’t change who I am on the inside. I think deep down, I always knew that Austin didn’t really love me, but I was willing to accept sex in lieu of love because I wanted that just as much as I wanted the romance, and what woman thinks like that, Father? That I’d rather have sex without love than have no sex at all? So what do I do now? How do I carry the shame of all this while at the same time knowing it’s a fundamental part of who I am?”

Shame. Yes, I knew that feeling; I was feeling it right now, in fact. I forced my hands to my thighs, well away from my erection. Concentrate, I told myself. And when you’re alone, you can take care of your…problem.

“God made us as sexual creatures, Y/N,” I said, wishing my words sounded more soothing than they did. With my choked voice and barely controlled breathing, they came out sounding like a dark threat. A dark, imminent threat.

“Then He made me too sexual,” she whispered. “Even now, I—”

But she stopped.

“Even now, what?” And I was using that voice again, and there was no mistaking the danger now.

I could hear her shifting in her seat. “I should go,” she said. I heard her reaching for her purse and then the door handle clicking open, but I was out of the booth and over to her side in an instant, standing there as her door swung open. I braced my hands on either side of the door (what in the actual fuck was I doing?) blocking her escape because I had to know, I had to know what she was going to say, and if I didn’t, I would go crazy.

She looked up at me looming over her, her hazel eyes growing wide. “Oh,” she breathed. We stared at each other for a moment.

It could have ended right there. It would have, even with her red lipstick and her bright eyes and her nipples in tight little points under the thin silk blouse she wore. Even with my wide shoulders blocking the door to the booth, even with the surge of power and satisfaction and lust that came from positioning my body against a woman’s in this primal, dominating way.

It would have, I swear.

But then she bit her lip, those slightly-too-big teeth digging into her full lower lip, all pure white digging into the sharpest, bloodiest red imaginable, and then she rubbed her thighs together, a tiny noise coming from somewhere in the back of her throat.

I stopped seeing a penitent.

I stopped seeing a child of Go

I stopped seeing a child of God.

I stopped seeing a lost lamb in need of a shepherd.

I saw only a woman in need—ripe, delicious need.

I stepped back, drawing a deep breath, some valiant part of my conscience trying to flicker back online, and she took a tentative step out of the booth, her eyes still pinned to mine. I let her walk past me, but it wasn’t because I wanted her to leave or because I wanted this temptation to end. No, it was more like I was giving her one last chance to escape, and if she didn’t then Jesus help her, because I had to touch her, I had to taste her and it had to be right the fuck now.

She backed up a few paces until she bumped against the baby grand piano set below the choir platform. She still didn’t speak, but she didn’t have to, because I could read every tremble of hers, every breath, every goose bump. Her teeth still bit her bottom lip and I wanted to bite that lip, bite it so hard that she would squeal.

I advanced on her, and she watched every step of mine with a hunger that was beyond palpable, it was oppressive, it was ferocious.

“Turn around,” I ordered her, and fuck if she didn’t comply right away, turning and bracing her hands against the edge of the black wood. She was still rubbing her thighs together when I reached the piano and stood directly behind her. I ran my index finger from her hand to her shoulder, feeling every pebbled inch of skin on her arm. “Now what were you going to say in the booth?” I asked her in a low voice. “And remember that lying is a sin.”

She shivered. “I can’t say it. Not here. Not to you.”

My hand reached her shoulder. She’d worn her hair up in a loose twist, exposing the ivory nape of her neck, and I caressed it now, wanting to devour every shudder, every hitched breath. And then I placed the flat of my palm in the space between her shoulder blades and pushed her down against the piano, so that she was bent over, the side of her face pressed against the glossy wood. She was so petite that she had to stand on tiptoe, her leather ballet flats tugging free of her heels, her calf muscles bunching into tight balls.

She’d worn a high-waisted pencil skirt, and once she was bent over, the slit rose high enough to expose a narrow glimpse of pink flesh.

“Y/N,” I said dangerously, “did you come here without underwear?”

My hand was still on her back, my fingers resting against her neck, and she nodded.

“Was that on purpose?”

A pause. Then another nod.

The crack resounded through the sanctuary, and she jumped at the feeling of my hand smacking her ass. Then she moaned and pushed her ass up farther.

I didn’t spank her again, although Lord knows I wanted to. Instead I ran my hand from her shoulder to her hip, feeling the curve of her breast where it was pressed against the piano, the dip of her waist, the firm swell of her ass. And then I repeated the action with both hands this time, letting my hands drift down to the hem of her skirt. She drew in a breath, and then I abruptly yanked it up to her waist.

I knelt down behind her and spread her legs, spread them so that her cunt was gloriously bared to me. “My little lamb,” I whispered. “You are so very, very wet right now.”

She was, wetness slicking almost every part of her. Her pussy wasn’t just wet either—it was fucking quivering, pink and soft and quivering right in front of my face.

I grabbed her ass in my hands and dug my fingers in, leaning forward so that my breath tickled her sensitive flesh.

She whimpered.

“This is so wrong,” I said, moving my mouth even closer. I could smell her, and she smelled like heaven, like soap and skin and the delicate female scent that every man hungered for. “But just one taste,” I murmured, talking more to myself than to her now. “God wouldn’t punish me for just one taste.”

I traced my way from her clit to her cunt with my tongue and (forgive me, my God) but no communion wine, no salvation had ever tasted sweeter than this, and one taste would not be enough.

“Please,” I whispered against her skin, “just one more.” I flattened my tongue against her clit and sampled her again, my dick now so hard that it hurt.

She cried out against the wood of the piano, and I almost died, because those noises and fuck me that taste. I dove into her like a man possessed, my fingers burrowing into her ass cheeks to hold her open for my assault. I fucked her with my tongue and my lips and my teeth, eating her, eating her like a starving man. Her cunt was exactly as perfect as I’d imagined all those nights in my frozen showers, that time I’d shot off thinking about doing this very thing.

She would come, I decided right then. I would make her come on my face, and just the thought made my balls draw up and my dick jolt in my pants. It was a very real possibility that I myself might orgasm without even touching my cock.

I let one finger drift over to her pussy and then I slid it inside, crooking it down to find the soft, textured spot that would push her over the edge. She was shamelessly grinding back into my face now, her fingernails scratching against the piano wood, little sighs and moans issuing from her throat.

All I could breathe and taste was her, and then I looked up and saw the crucifix at the front of the church—a tragic, agonized god hanging in sacrifice—and my heart lurched. What the hell was I doing? Anybody could walk in right now, walk in the front door, and see their priest with a woman bent over the piano, kneeling as if he was praying to her cunt, kneeling with his face buried in her ass.

What would they think? After I had worked so hard to repair this town’s hurt, after I’d finally helped this community trust the Church again?

And more than that—what about my vow? A vow I had made before my family and God? What does an oath mean to me if only three years after swearing chastity, I’m shoving my tongue up a woman’s wet cunt?

But then Y/N came, her cry the most beautiful hymn I’ve heard in my life, and everything else vanished except her and her smell and her taste and the feeling of her clenching around my finger.

Reluctantly, I pulled back, wanting one more orgasm from her, wanting to bury my face in her ass again, but knowing I couldn’t, I shouldn’t, and then I stood and saw her looking over her shoulder like I was the most wondrous thing she’d ever seen.

“No one’s ever done that to me before,” she whispered.

Tongue-fucked her in a church? Bent her over a piano and licked her until she couldn’t stand anymore?

My eyebrows drew together, and she answered my unspoken question. “No one’s ever made me come with their mouth before, I mean,” she said. There was still a flush high on her cheeks, creeping down her neck.

I didn’t understand. “No guy has ever gone down on you?”

She shook her head and then closed her eyes. “That felt so good.”

I was shocked. How could she have never received oral?

“That’s a shame, little lamb,” I said, and I couldn’t stop myself, I pressed my covered erection into her ass. “No one’s taken care of you properly before.” I dropped a hand down and around to find her clit again, groaning inwardly when I found that it was still a swollen, hot button of need. “But I won’t lie. It makes me hard as fuck knowing that I was the first man to taste you.”

I heard the words as I said them and suddenly reality slammed back into me.

What the fuck was I doing? What the fuck had I done?

And why had I done it here, of all places?

I stepped back, breathing hard, no thought in my mind other than to get away, somewhere else, before I was laid low by guilt and regret.

Y/N spun around, her skirt still bunched around her waist, her eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare,” she said. “Don’t you dare check out on me now.”

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I…I can’t.”

“You can,” she said, stepping forward. She pressed a palm to my erection, and I looked down to see her unbuckling my belt.

“I can’t,” I repeated, still watching as she drew out my cock. The moment her fingers brushed over my bare skin, I wanted to die, because I hadn’t exaggerated how good that felt in my memories and my fantasies, no, I had not.

“You are a good priest, Father Starkey,” she said, her hand moving down to explore lower, cupping me. “But you’re also a good man. And doesn’t a good man deserve a little indulgence every now and then?”

She gripped me tighter, started to stroke in earnest now. I watched her hand moving up and down my shaft like a man hypnotized. “We won’t have sex,” she promised. “No sex, and then it’s not really breaking any rules, right?”

“You’re equivocating now,” I said raggedly, closing my eyes against the sight of her pumping my dick.

“Then how about another confession,” she said, dragging her fingernails from my pelvis to my navel, making my abs tighten. “After the first day I talked to you, I looked you up online. I couldn’t stop thinking about your voice, like I could still hear it in a way, echoing in my mind. And then I saw your picture on the website and you looked…well, you know how you look. That was the first time I got off thinking about you.”

“You’ve touched yourself thinking about me?” The last remaining shred of my self-control frayed, threatening to snap.

“More than once,” she admitted, still running her fingers over my abs underneath my shirt.

There it went, any self-discipline that remained, and all that was left was a male—not Drew, not Father Starkey—but something more primal and more demanding.

“Show me,” I ordered.

“What?”

“Lie down on this floor, spread your legs and show me what it looks like when you fuck yourself thinking of me.”

Her mouth parted and her cheeks reddened and then she was laying on the carpet, her hand on her cunt. I stood over her, fisting my cock, giving in to it all, giving in to everything, as long as it ended in her covered in my climax.

“Why didn’t you wear underwear today?” I asked, watching her trace circles around her clitoris.

“The last time, when we talked, I got so hot talking to you. I thought if it happened again today, it would be easier if I didn’t wear panties. To…take care of it. And it was easier.”

I knelt down between her legs and then took her slender wrists in my hand. I stretched out over her, pinning her wrists to the floor above her head, my dick brushing against her pussy and her bunched-up skirt. “Are you telling me,” I asked, “that you were masturbating in the booth next to me?”

She nodded fearfully. “You make me so wet,” she said. “I can’t stand it.”

It took everything I had not to shove into her right there and then. Every time I rocked my hips, my dick slid against her folds, and they were so warm. So wet.

I dropped my head, burying my face in her neck. She smelled like clean skin and the barest hint of a lavender perfume—something that probably cost more than what I made in a month. For some reason, this excess, this possible decadence, fueled my need to tear her apart. I bit her neck, her collarbone, scored her shoulders with my teeth, all while I ground my cock against her clit and palmed her breast, driving her to a second orgasm as if I were punishing her with pleasure. Punishing her for showing up here and knocking my carefully constructed life over as if it were a house of cards.

She squirmed underneath me, panting and gasping, her hands flexing uselessly against the floor as I kept them pinned there with only one hand. She was so wet, it would be so easy, just a slight change in angle, and then I could thrust in.

I wanted to. I wanted to, I wanted to, I wanted to. I wanted to fuck this woman more than I’d ever wanted anything in my life. And perversely, the fact that I couldn’t, that it would be wrong on every single level—moral, professional, personal—made it even hotter. It made the image, the imagined feeling of it, a single bright point of obsession, until I was mindlessly rutting against her, sucking and nibbling at her as if I could burn out this need by devouring every inch of her skin.

“Oh God,” she whispered. “I’m going to—oh, God—”

I would have flogged myself every day for the rest of my life if I could have been inside of her right then, felt her tightening on my dick, felt her shuddering convulsions from the inside out. But being on top of her was almost as good, because I felt every seizing, jerking breath, every wild buck of her hips, and when I met her eyes, they were fierce and penetrating, but also surprised, as if she’d been given an unexpected gift and wasn’t sure if she should be grateful or suspicious.

But before I could delve further into that look, she’d arched her back and unseated my balance, tipping me so that I rolled to my back and she was on top of me.

Without hesitation, she tugged my shirt up so she could see my stomach, and I didn’t miss the way her jaw clenched and her eyes flared. She scratched my stomach—hard—as if furious that it was firm and muscled, as if angry that it turned her on. (And I’d be lying if I said that didn’t turn me the fuck on.)

She sat on me, her slick cleft sliding against the underside of my dick, and then she started stroking me that way, as if she were jacking me off with her pussy. I raised up on my elbows so I could watch it, watch the way her flesh pressed against mine, the way her bare cunt allowed me to see her ripe clitoris peeking out. It was so goddamn wet, and with all the pressure, her full body weight pressing against my cock, it was such a close approximation to the real thing, maybe too close, but it still wasn’t technically sex, I lied to myself, maybe it wouldn’t count, maybe I wasn’t sinning.

But even if I was, holy fuck, I was not stopping.

It was so dirty, the way her skirt was still hitched up to her hips, the way my pants were yanked down just far enough to free my balls, the way the old carpet abraded my ass and lower back. The way she shamelessly angled herself so that my shaft would press on her in all the right places, the way it was just our arousal lubricating us and nothing else, and God, I wanted to marry this woman or collar her or cage her; I wanted to own her, make her, take her; I wanted us on this old carpet forever, with her hair coming undone and her nipples hard and her naughty pussy milking my dick for everything it was worth.

“Come,” she told me hoarsely.

“I have to see you come. I need it.”

My jaw was too tight to answer, because it was close, something more intense than I’d felt in years gnawing at the base of my spine and rending its way through my pelvis.

“Don’t hold back,” she begged now, pressing down even more, and fuck, there it was. “Give it to me. Give me every drop.”

Shit, this woman was filthy. And perfect. And it was pure instinct that made me grab her hips and work her harder and faster over me, my mind filled with the sight of her straddling me and her pale pink clitoris, still plump and needy, and the memory of her taste and smell on my mouth and face, and then it flooded through me—no, it burned and chewed through me, and she let out a low moan at the sight of my come spurting onto my stomach. There was so much, and it felt like hours instead of seconds that I was suspended in pulsing, total-body release.

And at that moment—at the peak of my high, at the peak of her greedy triumph—our eyes locked and we surged past every barrier—stranger and stranger, priest and penitent, Drew and Y/N. We were simply male and female, as God had made us, Adam and Eve, in the most elemental and fundamental form. We were biology, we were creation incarnate, and I saw the moment she felt it too—that we were fused somehow. Irrevocably and undeniably fused together into something singular and whole.

My climax abated, but I could barely breathe, barely process what the fuck I had just felt, and then Y/N bit her lip and dragged one finger across my stomach, coating it in my orgasm, and then brought it to her mouth. My cock jumped as I watched her suck it off her finger.

I rested my head back against the floor, overcome with the sinking realization that I would probably not ever be able to dig this woman out of my system. She was the kind of woman that could make me hard over and over again, the kind of woman I could spend a week fucking nonstop and then still want more, and that was bad news for my self-control, which was slowly resurrecting back into life, along with my defeated, gnashing conscience.

“Will it drive you crazy,” she asked after a moment, “knowing that I’ll be touching myself, just inches from you, every time I come in to confess?”

I groaned. Fuck yes, it would.

“Y/N,” I said, but then stopped. What could I possibly say in this moment that would have any value? That would encompass the rushing torrents of shame and guilt, and also express how deeply this woman had gotten under my skin?

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry too.”

She stood and rearranged her clothes as I wiped my stomach with my shirt and sat up. Had it been only a minute ago when the entire universe had shrunk to just me and her, to our noises and our sweat, our fucking without really fucking? And now the sanctuary seemed vast and hollow, a cave with only the overtaxed air conditioner to chase away the dull silence.

The church was empty. The townspeople weren’t gathered in the narthex, ready to throw stones at me or exile me. I’d gotten away with it.

And somehow that made me feel worse.

Y/N and I didn’t say goodbye. Instead, we looked at each other, rumpled and damp, reeking of sex, and then she left without another word.

I slowly made my way back the rectory, sticky and hard again and hating myself relentlessly.

#rafe #rafe fic #rafe imagine #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #drew #drew starkey

164 notes · View notes

sameheart-sameblood · 3 years

Text

All To Myself

(gif by @captainrexs)

pairing: captain rex x f!reader

summary: bath time with rex usually means trying to get him to relax, but tonight it's your turn to let him help you out

words: 3.1 k

warnings: 18+, smut, bathtime shenanigans (f receiving), rex being the giver we all know he is

a/n: this is purely self-indulgent as i love baths. i would give up all my earthly possessions to take one with rex. this is my first attempt at smut (which is probably obvious lol). kind of didn’t want to release this but got tired of it staring at me whenever i opened word

read on ao3!

Your evenings were usually spent alone. At first, that had bothered you. Rex had come into your life and you wanted nothing more than to be in his presence. The calmness and kindness he exuded was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Being around him made you crave his presence all the more, like spice coursing through your system. You knew his job meant he was needed off planet most of the time. But was it really too much to ask that you see him occasionally while he was back on Coruscant?

As your relationship went on, you got used to it. Being numb to the canceled dinners and missed special occasions was just what seemed in store for someone who loved a captain in the GAR. Which is why you barely batted an eyelash when he had commed you earlier in the day, rushing an apology about not being able to see you that evening. You might be resigned to the fact that Rex’s life was his job but it still didn’t make it easier to stomach the thought of another night alone.

The two of you had planned an evening on the town, dinner and dancing. Well, at least you dancing while Rex swayed self-consciously next to you. He hated it and yet he never tried to talk you out of going. It was one of the many things you loved about him. It was these things you remembered when your loneliness got the best of you. So what if Rex couldn’t always be around? Whenever he was with you he made you feel like the only person in the world.

You contemplate calling your friends to see if they’d like to join you for your planned activities. But you’re feeling sorry for yourself and if you can’t be with Rex, then you’d rather just be by yourself. You decide to keep things simple and take a bath. The thought instantly puts you in a better mood. It’s one of your favorite past-times.

******

When Rex had first seen your bath routine, he’d been in shock. As someone who was usually only afforded about two minutes to bathe, the thought of taking an hours long bath blew his mind. You’d insisted he try it for himself. He watched as you drew him a bath of his own, adjusting the temperature just right and properly dissolving a few handfuls of epsom salts.

Before leaving him, you’d dimmed the lights, lit a few sweet smelling candles and turned on some light background music. Lowering himself into the tub, Rex thought the experience might be alright. But after a minute, he was ready to get out. He had tried to understand it, really he had. But as someone always on the go, he couldn’t easily relax, constantly fighting the feeling he should be doing something.

He didn’t begrudge you taking your baths. After all, he saw how happy they made you and he wanted nothing more than to see you content. But for a soldier, the experience felt like an indulgence he didn’t deserve.

He had shyly called you back into the bathroom. “I don’t think I’m doing it right, love.” You’d gone in to find him sitting there, looking confused, as if expecting something more to happen. “There’s no wrong way to take a bath, Rex.” Sitting down next on the edge of the porcelain, you’d motioned for him to keep trying. He’d sat back, shoulders tensed towards his ears, staring straight ahead, eyes wide, his whole body on alert.

You had to stifle a laugh as you watched. “Ok, apparently you have found a wrong way to take a bath.” He’d looked so forlorn at his failure that you had no choice but to shed your clothes and get in, taking a more hands on approach to showing him how to relax. He’d liked baths much more after that…

******

Easing yourself into the water makes you instantly relax. Knowing you’ll most likely spend the rest of the night in here, you make sure to get everything prepared that you might need. Feeling cheeky, you also bring over of your favorite vibrator. You’re not going to be getting any from Rex tonight, so might as well try to have some fun.

You get to catch up on the book you’re reading, feeling satisfied when you finish the last page. Settling back, you let your mind wander, hands playing at the surface of the water. An accidental glide over your breast sparks something in your belly. You pause, then do it again, imagining it’s Rex’s larger, calloused hand teasing you. You grab the vibrator, placing it next to you.

Before you delve in, you turn the water on to return some of the warmth the bath has lost.

Over the roar of the tap, you don’t hear the door open. Someone clears their throat and you whip your head towards the noise. Rex greets you, shoulders slumped with fatigue. “Sorry, love, didn’t mean to scare you.”

And you must look scared too, you’re eyes double their usual size. You glance at the vibrator, wondering if you have time to hide it. Rex isn’t against your use of toys, in fact he encourages them. But you’re still embarrassed at being caught just about to put it to use. He follows your eyes, his own widening slightly.

“Ah, so it was going to be that kind of bath?” He chuckles, expression darkening slightly as you squirm under his gaze. He just stands there, looking at you. Oh, he’s actually expecting an answer. “Well, I just figured, you weren’t going to be home, and I was bored and lonely and…”

You’re rambling now but you can’t stop, even as you watch him slowly remove his armor. He does so tantalizingly slow, nodding along with mock sympathy as you continue.

“I thought I would be alone for the night and I missed you so much, Rex, honey, I miss you.”

His face softens at your wavering tone, your sincerity written all over your face. He finishes stacking his armor neatly in the corner. “I missed you too.” He strips out of his blacks, folding them as you openly gawk at him. He allows himself a smirk at your neediness. Finally ridding himself of his clothing, he kneels down next to the bath. He runs his thumb over your cheek. “I’m here now. You don’t need to be lonely anymore.”

That night you had first introduced him to proper bath-time, you’d sat behind him, guiding him on just how to really relax. But tonight, he wants you to be taken care of. He motions for you to scooch forward, then sinks in behind you, groaning softly. You settle into each other, just reveling in the closeness for a moment.

Rex exhales a ragged breath and you feel some of the tension go out of his body. “Tough day?” He pulls you closer, your back pressed to his chest. “Just the usual. Nothing I can’t handle.” You know him well enough now to hear the pain in his tone. He feels you tense, knowing you want to ask him to elaborate, always trying to solve his problems. Rex rubs your arms slowly, soothing you “Not to worry. Everything’ll be fine.”

Rex’s hands continue their hypnotic rubbing. Up and down, leaving goosebumps in their wake. You allow yourself to relax once again but don’t let the matter drop. “You had a long day, Rex. Let me help you unwind.” You try and get out of the bath so you can switch places. But he’s having none of it. He holds you gently in place. “Taking care of you will help me relax, love.”

When you had first gotten together and he would say these kinds of things to you, it was hard to believe him. Could he truly be this selfless? It felt in some way like you were taking advantage of him. As your relationship progressed, you’d come to see that he truly meant things like that. Rex had many love languages but his favorite was acts of service.

Sighing in defeat, you settle back against him. He chuckles at your small sounds of mock protest. Rex nuzzles his face into your hair, inhaling your familiar scent of pine and Alderaanian blossoms. For a moment, he breathes you in, forgetting about the world. But as his eyes slowly open, he’s greeted by the sight of your long abandoned vibrator. Rex reaches for it, toying with it. You see what he’s doing and turn towards him. “It’s ok. I’m fine. Let’s just lay here.”

Your captain may be tired but he’ll be damned if he doesn't fall asleep knowing you've been satisfied. “That’s right. You just lay there. Let me do the work.” The tiny thing clicks on, a buzzing filling the room. Rex lowers it into the water, the vibrations sending out tiny ripples. He pauses hovering above where you need him most.

“What do you think of when you use this?” You’re so caught off guard by the question that you only let out a confused garble. He gives your thigh a squeeze, chuckling at the state you’re already in. “I haven’t even started yet, love. Use your words.”

After that, there’s no hesitation. “You.” The word comes out in a needy rasp. Rex is right. He hasn't even touched you yet and your body is already wound up so tightly in anticipation that you’re sure you might combust at any moment. “It’s always you, Rex.” You can’t see but his face softens, still so surprised someone would ever care for him like that.

He rewards you with a lingering kiss on your shoulder and lowers the toy to your already swollen clit. You jolt at the sensation, body automatically trying to get away from it. Rex’s free arm tightens around you, forcing you to stay still and power through the first few seconds of overstimulation. You’re still whimpering, but you soon relax, leaning your head back onto his shoulder.

He studies your face, your eyes screwed tight and mouth slightly agape. “Is this what you needed?” All you can do is nod but he prompts you to continue, rubbing the vibrator slowly up and down through your folds. Gasping at the new sensation, your eyes pop open to meet his. “I-I…” The arm that had been holding you tightly against him loosens. His hand moves to your breast, massaging gently.

It’s been so long since you’ve had time to take things this slow. Usually he’s only got a few minutes free, leaving time for a rushed rendezvous and nothing more. But tonight you have him all to yourself. No comms beeping to steal his attention, no duty calling him away. It’s as if there’s nothing outside of these four walls and you know it’s an opportunity that won’t come along often.

Your head lolls to the side as he continues his ministrations. The coil in your belly is tightening quickly but you fight against it, needing something different. Your voice eventually resurfaces, your words on the tail end of a moan. “I- I need you!” Urging life back into your limbs that have since turned to jelly is difficult. But you manage to move your hand to cover his, clicking off the vibrator.

Rex stills for a moment, trying to figure out what he’s done wrong. Turning your head to look at him, you see his confusion. You reach up to stroke his face, eyes pleading with him. After a moment, you see him understand. It’s something you always want, without fail. He smiles down at you, leaning over you to gently press his lips to yours.

The vibrator is quickly abandoned on the side of the tub. With both hands free, Rex can really touch you, hands roaming about at his leisure. You sigh contently as his rough fingers trail along the sides of your body, then upwards to tease your nipples. The embers in your belly that had dimmed slightly are now burning brightly once again. He senses this and lowers a hand to your clit.

At first, he just runs his fingers through your folds. He doesn’t mean to tease, he just hasn’t been able to feel you, to truly appreciate you in so long. But your whine pulls him out of his trance and he begins to rub circles that leave you gasping for air. He begins slowly, making sure you're happy with the direction things are going.

Rex holds in his chuckle as he peers down at you. Your head has once again tipped back against him. But now, your face has gone slack, no tightness or tenseness to be found. Only pleasure. His free hand moves between your breasts, squeezing, massaging and tugging, making sure neither is neglected. He sees just how much your chest is heaving and decides to give you your reward. You’ve been so patient for him.

His hand tugs at your thigh, pulling you out of your daze. “What are you - “ He lifts your leg and hooks it over the edge of the tub, spreading you wider for better access. You moan pitifully as the hand that had been rubbing circles delves back in. There’s so much more of you he can touch now and it makes you tremble. He beams down at you proudly, seeing how much this slight change is bringing you closer to the edge.

You're tensing under him, back beginning to bow. Your sudden movement brings attention to his erection that’s been slowly growing. He can’t help when he automatically begins to grind against you. But Rex knows you well enough now to realize he only has a few more seconds before you're toppling into oblivion. His release can wait.

Abandoning your breast, his hand slides up to your neck, applying the slightest pressure. You keen at the feeling. It’s not a show of dominance. It’s Rex reminding you that he’s there for you, a comforting presence that makes you feel perpetually taken care of.

You twist your neck so you can gape up at him. The hand on your clit continues it’s work, doubling down its efforts. Throughout the experience, you’d been gripping the sides of the tub for dear life. But now, you bring one up to cover Rex’s hand that’s enclosed around your neck. Even through your haze of lust, your heart aches at the pure love radiating from his eyes.

You're too far gone, unable to form words. All you can do is moan and hope he can decipher it. If you weren't in such a compromising position you would have to laugh. Asking someone to be able to decipher your desires without words. But thankfully Rex knows you like the back of his hand. He knows what you're asking, what last thing you need to make you let go. Loosening his grip on your neck, he uses it to hold your face, crashing your lips together.

The kiss doesn’t break, even as you writhe under him. You try to turn away from him as you come, but he holds you to him, needing to feel you as much as you needed to feel him. The water is sloshing over the sides of the tub, your once full bath almost halfway empty. Rex breaks the kiss, letting the aftershocks of your release play out.

He rubs soothingly against your thighs, watching as you twitch. You collapse onto him, finally beginning to break through the fog. The ability to form a coherent sentence seems to have left you. All you can manage is a weak sigh of his name. It’s the only thing you can remember and, in all honesty, you’d die a happy woman if that was the only thing you could utter for the rest of your life.

“Was that what you needed, love?” Rex nuzzles into your neck as you chuckle. “Apparently more than I realized.” The rubbing at your sides pauses. You look to Rex to see what’s wrong and find his face twisted with guilt. “This isn’t right. If I can’t give you the attention you need then I don’t deserve you.” This isn’t the first time you've had this conversation and you're sure it wont be the last.

But you’re happy to reassure your lover, as many times as you need to. “You give me everything I need, Rex. You’re smart, brave, funny, kind, supportive, sexy.” He lowers his eyes at the last word, smiling demurely. “I don’t know how I got so lucky. You give me everything and so much more. And I mean, if you don’t believe me, just look.” You laugh, gesturing at your bathroom, now in a state of disrepair, water on the floor, shampoo and soap bottles scattered, candles burnt down to messy puddles.

Rex chuckles but looks contrite, rubbing his neck shyly. “Guess we got a little carried away.” He’s already made you come once, and spectacularly at that. But just the sight of him has those butterflies in your belly stirring to life again. You bat your eyelashes. “Now will you let me take care of you?” He closes his eyes, sighing tiredly. His cock, still hard against your back is evidence enough, but his muscles sag with fatigue.

“I want you more than anything. But I think I have just enough energy to clean this mess and then fall into bed.” Shaking your head, you gently extricate yourself from his arms. You stand on shaky legs as you hold out your hand for him. “Everything else can wait. Let me show you how much I missed you, Captain.”

His eyes widen, lust beginning to cloud his gaze. You don’t use his title often, knowing how riled up it gets him to hear the word fall from your lips. But you need the big guns tonight, refusing to leave him wanting. Rex grabs for you and lets you lead him through the ruined bathroom and into your bedroom.

He takes one last look at the state you’re leaving the room in. “But we should really clean this…” You lead him to the bed and softly push him down on to it. He looks up at you with doe eyes as you straddle his hips. “We will, honey. But no sense cleaning up now when we’re just about to make another mess.”

#captain rex x reader #rex x reader #rex x you #god what i would give to take a bath with rex #tcw fanfic #tcw smut #tcw #allie writes #my writing

248 notes · View notes

relaxxattack · 3 years

Note

Someone's probably asked you this before but how long did it take you to plan out the plot for knifetrick? What did you do to come up with everything and do you have any tips for other writers who are struggling to put together their own fics?

after checking out my history lol,

it seems i did serious brainstorming and research for about a week before i started writing.

what happened first was that i had in my head the funny idea of ran failing to kill jackie and them getting tax-benefit married (to make ran feel guilty and admit his plot)

and once i realized i wanted to make it into an actual story, i had to change some of it and come up with plot and reasoning.

the first thing i did was ask my followers for song requests, lol. i asked specifically for “songs about futuristic settings or being married to/loving your assassination target”

i listened to a lot of that music to get my brain juices flowing. i had to put together a couple of Reasons for why things happened. i also knew i couldn’t just write the fic on the assassination alone, or else ran would have nothing to distract him and be the overarching plot, lol

the music helped me picture scenes and concepts. i then just jotted down a bunch of stuff i thought would be interesting to happen (possible scenes)

a couple thoughts on this image— for one you can see that i originally wanted to name my fic after a movie. i looked up ones where assassins grow endeared to their targets and fail to kill them. but i realized i didn’t want to name the fic after a movie in case it was controversial or something, so i ended up going for a song instead. ALSO, as you can tell, some of these points got dropped! again, this was just brainstorming for things i wanted to include

the next thing i did was ask for ranjack classpects, lol. for those unfamilliar with classpecting, it’s sort of like personality types for really sad nerds (/lh). aka, hogwarts houses but more complicated.

@dyketubbo wrote some INCREDIBLE classpects for ran and jackie. it was based off what we knew about their personalities (which wasn’t much) but it also helped us infer a lot MORE about their personalities by figuring out where they could go or how they probably think in their minds.

if you don’t know classpects you can probably do this with personality types. or, just, figure out your characters personality some Normal way. i wouldn’t know.

there was a lot more brainstorming i did (where i came up with ms. laramie, scoots, and clementine) and tried to come up with a basic plot of what would happen and what they would do. during this i did some research on a proper three-act story structure so my plot would hit just right.

during all of this, i watched a bunch of spy and futuristic flicks (not too intensely, just had them on in the background to absorb the vibes).

i then made a plot map once i figured i knew what was gonna happen

(the last few chapters are on the other side of the paper, so you don’t get to see them haha)

a lot of this stuff got switched around or dropped completely as i was writing. honestly, the details don’t matter too much— the FLOW of the story is what’s important.

i’m very flexible with my scenes— literally what happens in a chapter is completely up in the air until i FINISH the chapter. sometimes they’re entirely different from my original ideas. it’s not too important to me what exactly happens, as long as it makes sense and i like it and it fits in with the rest.

in my mind, the events themselves are not as impressive as the characters in them. as long as i’m still developing the characters the way i need to throughout the story, and they eventually get to the plot points i need them to, i don’t worry too much about the specifics! as long as they’re fun.

i also didnt write chapter-by-chapter— i mapped the plot first, and then drew little dividing lines where i thought it would be good to end the chapter after. chapters are useful to me as pacing tools, but i didnt want the plot to seem too episodic by Planning it as chapters.

after i wrote the plot map, i did research on deserts, cities, and fantasy politics for DAYS. (i also watched videos on how fantasy militaries should work.) i ended up not using most of that information i came up with, but the parts that do leak through into my current writing do wonders to make the world feel real and alive. each character has a personality and a life, they aren’t just there to be background characters for ran and jackie.

then, i re-read a few books by authors who really inspire me. to get their narration voice fresh in my mind and feel really inspired

eventually we got to where we are now— i write the chapters and i post them!

as i’ve mentioned, i’m very flexible with my plot— so while i’ve foreshadowed certain things since the beginning, some parts of the story have only come perfectly together towards the end. and i have @shrugofgod to thank for that!

my wonderful editor is always willing to chat with me about what scenes and bits work and are most satisfying story-wise. of course lyssie also EDITS my chapters after they’re drafted — to make them more polished, and also ask me questions about things that are going on to clarify them.

many thanks to lyssie shrugofgod for making the story so much better :D

because my chapters have a tendency to get away from me and do whatever they want, if there’s certain plot things i need to hit in a chapter, i’ll outline the chapter before i write it.

also, recently, (after coming up with one too many REALLY COOL scenes and lines in my head while cleaning, but then completely forgetting them later) i’ve implemented a protocol for myself to jot down anything that comes to mind WHEN it happens so i don’t forget.

these are unprofessional and have spelling errors and all that, because i just wrote them really quickly, often while doing the dishes or laundry, lol.

so in conclusion:

um yeah that’s how i write knifetrick! i’ve never done this much work for any other fic though, so don’t feel like YOU have to. i did so much research for knifetrick because it was very out of my wheelhouse.

at most all i think is necessary for a good story is a plot map, and a hell of a lot of inspiration. (i got mine from music, movies, books, and drawing ran and jackie a lot, haha!)

make sure you’re having fun with your plot. writing won’t always be fun, but you should at least like your PLOT. because if you don’t then you won’t be inspired or enjoy it at all!

#knifetrick #writing process #tutorial #og post #sorry for rambling so much this probably wasn’t very understandable ^^;;

136 notes · View notes