#shrunk!scar
Text
Too Small
Summary: Grian’s machine was only supposed to shrink someone down a foot, at most. Not...this.
Warnings: Fear
Word Count: 1223
I started writing this as soon as the episode where Grian had Scar use the machine was posted but then some stuff happened and it was left uncompleted. Until now! I hope you guys enjoy!
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Grian’s machine had worked a little too well.
This wasn’t supposed to have happened. Scar was only supposed to get shrunk by a foot if that. He had said only a little bit smaller for a reason.
But his redstone had never been the best and instead of only losing one foot, Scar lost six. And now he was standing in the machine, only a few inches tall.
“What did you do?” A voice suddenly asked from behind him. Grian turned to look and saw the goblin, Fwhip, looking a bit panicked. But still, he only looked about half as panicked as Grian currently felt.
“I don’t know! It was only supposed to shrink him a foot!” Grian was never touching redstone ever again. He looked back over to where Scar was. He looked confused, like he wasn’t quite sure what had just happened. Which, ya know, fair. So, Grian took a deep breath and got closer.
“Scar? Buddy, are you okay?” Grian asked, keeping his voice low just in case. He didn’t know if Scar’s hearing would be extra sensitive like this, so it didn’t hurt to take precautions. He saw Scar blink and the now tiny man looked over and then up at him, his eyes going wide.
“Wha-Grian!? What-What’s going on!? Why are you suddenly so big!?” Scar exclaimed in confusion. Grian winced and knelt down, noticing when Scar took a few steps back and feeling bad about it.
“I swear this wasn’t what the machine was supposed to do…at least, not to this extent.” Grian tried to explain, rubbing the back of his neck.
It took a moment, but Scar put two and two together at his words. “Wait! You shrunk me? I've been shrunk!” Scar looked past Grian, towards the outside and Fwhip and his face paled a little.
“It’s okay! I’m sure there’s a way to fix this…somehow.” Grian said, though he did not sound very confident, even to himself. “I…didn’t actually plan a way to reverse this whole thing yet…I might need to get some help.” He’d have to talk to Impulse later. Hopefully he would be able to fix Grian’s terrible redstone.
“I can’t do anything like this!” Scar complained and then pouted. “How am I supposed to get that deputy badge now?”
Grian’s eyes widened and he heard Fwhip give out a little startled laugh behind him. “Wha-Scar! How are you still thinking about the badge at a time like this?! Honestly…” Grian couldn’t help but give a small smile though.
“What are you going to do now?” Fwhip cut in, question ringing through. Grian turned his head to look at him.
“Probably go get Impulse’s help. He’s just over there working on our villager trading hall.” Grian pointed over to where the huge scaffolding tower outline lay. “He’ll be able to figure out this redstone better than I can.”
He turned his attention back to Scar. “Alright Scar, let’s go try and fix you.” Grian reached his hand out, intent on just scooping the shrunken man up.
Grian froze however, when Scar scrambled back and away from his incoming hand, his own hands held out in front of him. “W-Wait!” Grian took his hand back and stared down at the shrunken man in confusion.
“What? What’s wrong?” Grian asked and watched as Scar tried to find the words to say. It was strange, seeing someone so familiar so small. If Grian hadn’t been the one to accidentally shrink Scar in the first place, he would have thought he was seeing things.
“Well, I mean…I, uh, I don’t want to make you carry me! I can walk perfectly fine.” Scar said, starting out unsure and then slowly getting more confident, even twirling his cane for extra measures. He even threw in his signature Scar smile, which, again, looked quite strange on such a small face.
Grian blinked at Scar’s words and then looked at the distance between them and Hermitopia. It was a short walk for Grian, sure, but for Scar? Who knows how long it would take him. “You’re joking, right? At your new size that would take you, like…a day! Besides, it’s really not a big deal, it’s not like you’re heavy. Not anymore anyway.” Grian added with a smirk.
Scar looked over at the distance and winced, knowing Grian was right. “You have a point…”
Scar was acting strange, Grian realized. It wasn’t like him to be so…quiet. And fidgety. Sure, Scar had been shrunk and that would disorient anyone but Scar always bounced back quickly from stuff like that. So what was different this time…
Oh.
“Scar…are you scared?” Grian asked, no hint of amusement or laughter in his voice. But a straightforward question that only held concern.
Scar laughed but it was obviously forced. “What? No, of course not! Why would I be scared?”
Grian frowned. “Scar, it’s okay if you are. You shrunk, everything is so much bigger than you now. That sort of thing would be scary for most people.” Grian normally wasn’t so serious but he needed Scar to know that it was okay to be scared.
Scar bit his lip and looked down. “Yeah, I guess.”
Grian thought for a moment and then gently and slowly set his hand down, palm up, in front of Scar. Scar had taken several more steps back at the action but now stared at the hand in confusion. Grian smiled softly. “How does this work? I won’t grab you and I promise not to let you fall either.”
Scar was silent for a moment, debating with himself and then let out a soft sigh and gave Grian a smile. “Yeah, that works. Thanks, G.” Grian nodded in response and then Scar started to climb onto Grian’s hand.
Grian had to keep himself from flinching at the feeling of someone so tiny climbing onto his hand. But he stayed still, not wanting to scare Scar any more. Grian watched as Scar settled onto his hand, sitting down in the center of his palm. When he was given a, albeit a bit of a nervous, thumbs up, Grian smiled. “Going up.” Grian tried his best to give Scar a smooth ride as he lifted him up into the air and stood up. He brought his other hand underneath the one holding Scar, just in case and then turned around.
“Wow, it’s weird seeing you hold him like that.”
Grian almost jumped out of his skin but thankfully he was able to keep steady for Scar. He had forgotten Fwhip was there with him, so focused on Scar. “Yeah, well, it’s a bit weird to be the one holding him.”
“Well, it’s weird being held!” Scar chimed in, causing all three of them to laugh. As the laughter died down, Scar turned to look up at Grian. “Do you really think Impulse will be able to help?”
Grian, not wanting to lie to Scar, just shrugged. “I guess we’ll see. If not, we can always get Doc and Tango in on it. I’m sure between the three of them they’ll figure out something.”
Scar nodded. “What are we waiting for then! Let’s find Impulse!”
With one last chuckle and a quick goodbye to Fwhip, Grian carried Scar over to Hermitopia and hoped his redstoner friends would be able to fix his mistake.
#g/t#giant/tiny#mcyt g/t#hermitcraft g/t#empires g/t#?#I mean#fwhip is there#and they are on empires#so i guess it counts lol#shrinking#shrunk!scar#fic#my fic
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How i envisioned Danny's ghost form/Phantom in my Danyal Al Ghul au (images at bottom of post). His ghost form has some pr heavy influence from the League, because I thought it'd be neat + to kinda show how even after four years, the League still had some kind of impact on who is he as a person. Plus some milder Robin influence in his boots and the cape (which i meant to be split down the middle to have some kind of 'bird wing' silhouette) as a way to indicate his lingering desire to meet his dad.
The pauldron lookin-thing on his upper chest is based off certain Danny Phantom designs I see that give him that white,,, marking,,, thing. I've been calling it the Jedi Chestplate because it reminds me of the clone wars Jedi armor. So like, slight homage to his hazmat suit.
(not pictured: his thermos and his sword)
behold! the judgmental lil shit (affectionate) himself
#dpxdc#dp x dc#dpxdc art#mediocre starry art#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#danny fenton is not the ghost king#older brother danny#i thought about giving him a mask but felt it would make him look too busy#i originally made his scar larger but then i remembered he got that scar when he was five. and thus the scar would have shrunk over time#prolly could've been smaller but. oh well :)#the lack of fenton influence isn't intentional i promise its just that i couldn't combine all three things at once without risk of making#the outfit look overly busy LMAO. ignore his hands they're my weakpoint#'judgmental lil shit' quote goes to the-navistar-carol for being the first thing she said when i showed her the fanart#fun fact the tail of the lightning bolt going behind the P is supposed to be a mockup of the tail of the Robin “R” which is another subtle#indicator of Danny's desire to be part of his father's life and not having it. he's never gonna be robin and he knows it but that doesnt#mean some part of him doesnt still want to. ugh the pants look awful but i dont want to spend any more time than i already have fixing them#because. drawing on mobile suckkkkksssss. starry draw danny with short hair challenge: task denied
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Sometimes I remember that Yamace will be a thing in my modern Au fic. Not only that but Yamato is post top surgery. I have doodles somewhere of the big man bullying Ace (affectionately) and Yamace being eepy. I’ll find them later.
#yamace#one piece modern au#more people should draw Yamato with top surgery scars#I say that but it took me a while to figure out how to doodle them#I got it eventually#oh yeah I shrunk Yams to be 6’5 in the modern Au#why is he almost 9ft tall…#one piece#portgas d ace#yamato
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you know what, i am afraid that I won't get used to the pain, i'm also afraid that i will get used to the pain. it sucks either way.
#it feels like my bones are grinding with every movement this sucks this sucks so much#mike: goes off on a monologue of how scared he is of physical pain and how it's scarred him#me: oh he's just like me fr#i've started to hate being touched as well which makes me really sad#one of the primary ways i like to recieve affection is with physical contact :(#the group of people who can touch me without me flinching has shrunk to like. one person. maybe two#it suuuuuucks#e speaks
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tbh I'm scared of ever being in a relationship again bc I don't think I'd find anyone else who'd actually be okay with the amount of sh scars I have 👍
#like from my chest & shoulders down to my ankles#there are these brutal scars just EVERYWHERE#smaller ones from when i was 15-16#bigger ones all across my legs from when i was 18#new raised and/or reddened scars on my arms that have shrunk due to the surrounding scar tissue#sui scars in multiple places#i look brutal#painted up like a fucking crime scene#i dont think anyone can love that haha#a
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hydrocolloid acne patches are a godsend cuz even tho it's like 70/30 whether they'll actually drain anything, it keeps you from picking at it all day which is worth its weight in gold
#the dart ones for cystic are less reliable but they have shrunk things over multiple passes for me#of course I'm still prodding and stabbing beforehand half the time which leaves scars but it also makes the patch more likely to work so...#certified skin picking post lmao
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The order of things
Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader
Warnings: mild angst, masturbation, oral sex (m receiving), grinding
Word count: 3k
Taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs @alphard-hydraes-blog
MASTERLIST
There is a raven that flies towards the rookery as soon as the sun is high enough to bathe the Keep in orange. It always comes at the same split minute, Aemond sees it every day, because it is the same split minute in which his training ends. Sometimes he even manages to get the better of the bird, then looks up as he sheathes his sword and awaits him. As soon as it crosses the sky he leaves the courtyard.
His day is like a prayer, devoutly tenacious and unchanging. A bath, breakfast, a flight on dragonback, a book. A visit to Helaena and the twins if the reading bores him.
Someone might say that even his walk is always the same. Rigour and order, to be everything Aegon is not.
This time, he disarms Ser Criston well in advance, so much that the raven has yet to show itself, and when it does, Aemond will be blind to his passing.
"Mother," he says curtly as the Queen passes by. She goes to pray as she does every morning, always at the same time. She too is a creature devoted to rigour, and duty; she has seized her days and clutched them in her fist to prevent them from floating through her.
She pauses to greet him, her voice as mellifluous as ever and her eyes just as warm, and then suddenly, he turns to look at her as if he is looking at a stranger, as if she is speaking a language he does not know. "I wanted to tell you that I'm going to see some girls today, to choose your new maid."
"What's wrong with my maid?"
"Well, I figured she might ask for a leave as the wedding approaches."
He blinks, he stalls, he bogs, unnaturally, the sand stops in the hourglass. The raven glides over the towers, unnoticed.
"Yes, of course." he says, sheathing his sword, and the sand flows again, grain by grain; the funnel shrunk.
Everything in his life is part of that rigour, even people, even her.
She has been in his service long enough to know without asking when the scar pulls to the point of requiring medication. She has been in his service long enough to know that a slight frown in his eyebrows is enough to make her close the curtains and prevent the light from worsening the pain in his head, to know that he likes his venison rather raw, that he hates that doublet because the sleeves are puffed and he feels like a court jester. And she tacitly made it disappear.
She does everything without uttering a word. She doesn't need to ask, she moves when he moves, she has adapted to him like a second skin, and she doesn't seem harmed by the edges.
Yet he is harmed by something, as she pulls off his boots in front of the fireplace. He sees a flat sea where he would like to see a storm. He sees grains flowing and wishes to crash the glass.
"Do you need anything else my Prince?" she has a seraphic expression on her face, and he sees deception. She speaks in a firm, devoted voice, and he hears betrayal.
He stares at her with the eye that looks like a needle, feels like it, then shifts his gaze to the fire and says "I will be in need of your assistance tomorrow, for the whole day."
"The whole day?"
"Yes. Why? Do you have something better to do than the duties you are paid for?"
She is no novice to his bitter tongue; somehow, stupidly, naively and recklessly, she is able to imbue it with treacle when it enters her head. It doesn't matter anyway, her foolishness will end as soon as she takes her vows.
"No. Of course not. I'll be at your service, my Prince."
"Hmm, until?"
"Until?"
"You should be the one to tell me. When is the wedding due?"
Her eyes widen like two large moons and she seems to crumple in on herself, on the floor she is kneeling on, under the Prince's unwavering, iron eye. She feels her throat tighten and yet his hands are steady along the armrests. She feels her lungs crackle against her ribcage. "I—"
"Why didn't you tell me?"
Why didn't she?
"My prince, I thought your Grace should not be bothered with such trivial matters."
"I decide what to be bothered about." He says in an imperative tone. "When would you have bothered to inform me? Is this how you show loyalty to your prince? Keeping things from me?"
She glues her eyes to the floor, she cannot hold the Prince's gaze, not when he is like this, even though he has never been like this. He looks angry, he looks outraged? As if he has been wronged. That look makes her blood run cold, and then it melts in red down her cheeks and neck. It would be too easy to blame the chimney behind her back, easy but necessary, to keep things in order. Prince and servant, nothing more. What else is there?
There are heavy sighs falling in the dark, stranded between the sheets as his bones boil and tense at the climax, desire spilled, wasted. But that's fine. To not be all that Aegon is. This too has become rigour, part of the order of things.
It is the order of things to watch her kneel at his feet and wish to spill his desire into her mouth. As is seeing her nails always neat and tidy scratching the floor as her back arches against him, as is seeing the blood reddening her cheeks and neck, and wanting to lick it as far as it goes.
Someone else will do it. An ordinary man of no consequence in the order of things, the real one.
"You may go." he says coldly, hoping the frost of his tongue will cool the feverish blood under his skin.
She rises from the floor with a bowed, desolate head. "I bid you good night, my Prince."
The next morning he asks her to change the sheets, and he turns his back on her, ashamed, as if she knows she is in those sheets.
He takes a bath while she does her chores, finishing exactly when he does, because she moves when he moves. She helps him put on a dark green robe, unperturbed by his nudity, because that is her duty and it no longer makes her blush.
There's never been clumsiness in her hands, but there is today. Aemond feels her hands heavy as boulders when she prepares the ointment for his eye, when she leans over him to remove his eyepatch. She doesn't speak to him as she always does, oozing that glimmer of amusement when she brings up the servants' petty feuds and wars.
"You're rather quiet today." He asserts later, as she buttons his doublet "Has the armistice been reached in the kitchens?"
She opens in a brief smile, but it doesn't reach her eyes. "I don't know, Your Grace. I find myself spending a lot more time outside the Keep these days."
"Is that so?” He retorts, narrowing his eye “Hmm, is that why my books are still on the desk?"
She finishes her buttoning and ties her hands on her modest skirt. "I am sorry, Your Grace. I will see to it that they are put in order at once."
"I have no use for your apology. Why didn't you do it when I told you to?"
"Your mother gave me a leave for a few hours yesterday."
"And why did you ask my mother and not me? You are in my service, not hers."
She keeps looking down like a suspect on trial and swallows. "I went to Flea Bottom to buy some fabric for my wedding dress. I was ashamed to ask you for a leave for something so frivolous. As a woman, I thought your mother would understand."
"You will do no such thing in the future. Hide things from me and leave the Keep without my permission, or I'll have you punished. Am I being clear?"
"Your Grace, I…” she pauses, she looks down, she swallows, but it’s now or never. “You should know that I will no longer be here after the wedding. I am going to formally resign my position. Your Mother has already-"
His eye goes wide, and wild, and he breathes loudly until he is snarling. "Are you deaf or dense? Did you not hear me? You will not leave my service."
The moons in her eyes are full now. She looks at him, begging him to let her go, because that is the natural course of things. She will marry a common man, give him a couple of children and live a quiet life in the country, where her groom has a smallholding of land, their only source of wealth if they do not want a life of misery in Flea Bottom. And she is fine with that. She has accepted it. She is like any other common girl, she cannot dream, her blood is only red, there's no castle nor crown waiting for her.
She has accepted her fate with the calmness of a stream that lets itself be carried along by its current. She is happy like this, because as far as she could, in that silly way in which all ordinary girls dream, she dreamed, even though her dream is made of flesh and blood.
She had shivered when he had leaned over her when he taught her to read. She had breathed in deeply to know what he smelled like. She had felt ice in her stomach under his gaze when she read a few pages to him. And that is more than dreaming.
She cannot remain in his service, because she is an ordinary girl and more than dream, she cannot want.
"Your Grace..." she begs, going down to the floor "I beg you. Let me go my way. I believe I have always served you to the best of my ability and if I’ve ever failed you in something, name it. I will do anything to make it right."
Aemond bogs again, but in something far more paralysing and at the same time overwhelming than all his rigour. Perhaps it is the sight of her on her knees again, her head bowed and devoted, and the fact that he wants to touch that devotion, wants to taste it and swallow it.
Slowly, he lifts her chin with two fingers, eye blind to everything else; his thumb moves over her lower lip as if to know its edges, as if he has wanted to do this all his life.
"Anything?" he asks in the voice of another, the one stranded in the sheets.
She nods slowly, and the movement rubs his thumb against her teeth for a moment, forcing him to swallow, to give himself control, not to push his finger in. He is not Aegon, He is not Aegon, he is not Aegon.
"Would you be willing to please me?" he asks, and his question reaches some remote place in her, that place where a girl can dream and want freely. In that place, if he had asked once, twice, a hundred times, she would have bent to his will, not to the duty of the servant who must please her lord. Sure, that too. But first of all to her will. It is a question that need not be asked, for there is but one answer.
"Yes..."
Blood flows into her cheeks, breathing out fire from her lips. "How...? How do you want me to please you, my Prince?"
"With this..." he replies, pushing his thumb over her lip.
Her hands move fluidly over the belt and buttons of his breechers as if she had done this countless times before. She helps him dress, she knows his body even though she has never touched him. She has never touched a man in her life, not like this. Aemond reads the embarrassment on her cheeks and he basks in it with a glimmer of pride, because he will be the first.
Gently, he places a hand behind her head, tilting it a little, and looks at her with his heavy, clouded eye, enthralled. "Open your mouth..."
He knows she's never done this before, but the hot alcove of her mouth is enough to make him open his mouth and let out air in a broken cadence. She raises her eyes as if to ask if she is doing something wrong, and the sight, real and not the outcome of some delusion hidden in the dark, smothers his breath. He begins to thrust into her mouth slowly, hardening quickly as she continues to look at him and welcome him into her mouth with the devotion with which one kneels to the Seven.
"Gevie..." he pants hoarsely, brushing his fingers through her hair "You look more beautiful than I thought like this..."
His hand in her hair never tightens, though his hips move faster and the wet sound is the only one that keeps his panting company.
"Your cheeks..." he instructs her "Hollow your cheeks..."
And just as when he was teaching her to read, she listens , sucking agonisingly slowly. “Fuck—” he curses, threading his long fingers through her hair and pulling at the roots; he thrusts faster so that she has to grip his waist with her hands but when he senses she can’t breathe, he lets of her head and slips out of her scorching lips, hissing at feeling the cold air of the room.
She’s panting hard, with her mouth open and slick with him. But she has little time to catch a puff of air. He thrashes her on the carpet, with a rough kiss full of teeth and growls, and his hands move like talons, pulling her modest skirts up to her waist.
“No—My Prince—” she muffles on his mouth, pleading but desperate all together “We can’t—”
“I won’t ruin you, I promise.” he says rummaging through her garments “Just let me feel you this once—”
He finds her core with his large hand, hot and slick, and she whimpers loudly in his open mouth. “Do you get this wet for your groom, hmm? Or just for your Prince?”
She unconsciously bucks her hips against his hand and he smiles, delightfully, against her neck, licking a stripe down her throat. “I’m in need of an answer, my sweet girl…” he says raising his head, the leather piece is about to fall behind his disheveled hair. “Have you touched yourself thinking of me?”
Shame washes over her as well as pride does him. “You did, didn’t you?”
His retrieves his hand and licks her off his fingers as if he was waiting for nothing else, staring at her with his eye pitch black.
“Do it.”
“M-my Prince?”
“Touch yourself. Now.”
She looks away, reddening even more, but he grasps her chin and forces her to look at him. “Do you want that permission to leave my service?”
It takes her a minute to swallow her shame, and then her hands is slipping between them. He pulls himself up on one arm to give her space to spread her legs some more, to watch closely as she starts to move her little hand on her bundle of nerves. “Look at me.” He commands, and she flutters her eyes with a bit of prudery before obliging.
Her breathing becomes heavy, just as his, slowly touching himself to mimic her, as he has done countless of times before but this is different. This is like the first time. He can watch her chasing her pleasure because of him, with him. He can watch the sweat beading her neck, her lip trembling. He can hear the sweet lewd sounds she makes for him.
She grows more desperate by the moment, swaying her hips on the carpet, grabbing his shoulder and neck until he falls on her. He groans upon feeling her cunt against his cock and by now they’re both too close to need hands anymore. He starts to grind against her, his hard flesh slicking ever so easily on her wetness, swallowing her whimpers and moans as he pants and rasps on her lips “Go on, sweet one. Come for me, hm?”
She does so, gripping his shoulders until digging her nails on the fabric, moaning with her mouth slack open.
He keeps grinding against her, frantic, panting, the eyepatch is somewhere on the ground and she watches him in the stupor of pleasure, like she’s experiencing a vivid dream, but the weight of the prince on her is real, his cock rubbing against her core making it twitch for more, his coarse voice as he rasps “Gods—‘M so close…” and then the jolt of warm seed on her belly.
He falls on her breathing hard, making her wince, but she can't find the strength to slip away, to pull down her skirt or move the long silvery lock that has gone into her mouth. She must leave everything as it is, and then leave it to be the ordinary girl without dreams.
For two days, her presence around the Keep is rather scarce, barely traceable in the Prince’s chambers. But his breakfast is always ready on his desk, his clothes always clean and well folded on the chair.
Aemond does not send for her nor does he seem to care where she is. He returns to his rigour, to his books, to his training as soon as dawn breaks.
One of the Kingsguard shows up in the courtyard and stands there to watch, waiting for the Prince to finish his duel.
"My Prince, I've done some research after our last conversation."
"Well?"
"Just as you said, your Grace. A modest cottage and a piece of land near Duskendale."
"Good." He says, sheathing his sword and glancing up upon hearing a distant caw. "I want you to send two city guards there, and burn it all down."
The guard blinks, widening his eyes. "My Prince?"
"You heard me."
The guard leaves and Aemond hears cawing again, closer this time. He glances up and the raven greets him, flapping his wings in the newborn sun.
Everything is in order.
#liv(in la vida loca)#aemond targaryen x reader#ewan mitchell#aemond targaryen x you#aemond targaryen smut#aemond targaryen#aemond targaryen imagine#aemond targaryen fanfic#house of the dragon#hotd fic#aemond fic#aemond x fem!reader#aemond x reader#aemond x you#aemond smut#dark aemond smut#dark aemond targaryen#the order of things
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Slugcats but they’re .. man idk
Before I get into the headcanons on each slugcat, I'm going to detail how this design works without making a huge spec bio post like I've done before:
Similar to my lizard design, slugcats share a common ancestry with them. Though they're more squishy and flexible, the lizards have gained similar traits such as mantles and powerful tails. Slugcats are slimy and at most, tough and leathery, with only small hairs called setae if you want to count that as fur. They have 4 mantles down their back and a thick patch of skin similar on their throat with four more protecting each limb. They have 4 antennae, the frontal tending to be long and slim and the rear tending to be club shaped. They lack any structure besides a chitinous "skull" underneath the extra skin on their heads where they house 3 beaks lined side by side and are covered by the extra skin to form lips. The extra skin is also used in to create false eyelids, allowing them to communicate with facial features. All slugcats may have a set size but can constrict and extend however they want, appearing larger or smaller than originally anticipated.
And now individual headcanons:
Survivor & Monk:
- both have injuries from the fall, head injury for survivor is based off a friend’s hc
Hunter:
- self injury scars from trying to remove the rot cysts (hc from a friend)
- due to formation on face, their lips cannot fully close
Gourmand:
- tiny antennae
- thick mantles
Artificer:
- extra skin behind the head becomes large explosive saliva glands (appears to be an additional mantle)
- appearance is due to being born in a toxic environment
- face injury results in unable to close lips properly, loss of frontal and rear antenna, and deformation of eye
Rivulet:
- single mantle
- tail can flatten and form a wavy texture similar to arti’s arms to create a fin
- pseudopupils
- rear antennae are limbs covered in respiratory hairs
Saint:
- leathery skin similar to that of a lizard’s, cannot close eyes due to this
- long and very flexible frontal antennae
- several pseudopupils and iridescent eyes
Spearmaster:
- long by nature, however, cannot constrict their tail that much
- extra skin on face was shrunk and beaks fused together
- pseudopupils
- spikes all over to ward off attackers, though the thinner spines are flexible
#myart#rainworld#rain world#rainworld slugcat#rain world slugcat#rainworld survivor#rainworld monk#rainworld hunter#rainworld gourmand#rainworld artificer#rainworld rivulet#rainworld saint#rainworld spearmaster#rainworldbuilding
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smut requests, you say😏
well, how about fem reader with tasm!peter where he's feeling insecure about himself (we rarely get to see our boys insecure) and reader wants to make him feel good about himself and see how amazing he is in a more... physical way
sorry, i don't send in a lot of smut requests, though I love to read them!
-🔮
aww i love this! Thanks so much hunny! fem!reader x tasm!Peter Parker
cw: smut and suggestive material. mentions of insecurity, scars
673 words
You felt Peter tense under your fingertips as you trailed your hand up his torso. It wasn’t a pleasured shiver, but rather a pained wince, he had exhaled sharply and pulled away. You stopped kissing him, sitting back on his lap and inspecting him.
“Did I do something?” You asked him, eyes wide and searching. Glossy at the thought of hurting him.
“No, baby. You’re okay, just didn’t expect it. He stroked the back of your head, pulling you close to capture you in a long kiss. You let out a little gasp of surprise that he swallowed readily and braced your hands on his bare thigh, letting your fingers slip under the hem of his boxers. He tensed and shrunk again, pulling your hand up to wrap it around his arm. You stilled, pulling away again and curling your hands into yourself.
“I did it again, you made that same sound.”
“You didn’t do anything, I just-” He looked like he didn’t want to admit it. But it seemed like his want to reassure you and his flusteredness won out. “I just don’t like people touching me there.” He reached up to stroke your hair cajolingly again.
“Why?” You asked, searching and sorrowful.
“I just don’t like people looking or feeling there. I got minced up pretty bad in some fights. Left some parts of me lookin’ kinda weird.” He explained, wincing.
“It’s not weird, nothing on you is.” You looked so dejected it broke Peter’s heart. “You’re so pretty, Pete.” You muttered.
“Baby,” He scoffed out a laugh. “It’s nothing, really. You don’t have to try and make me feel better.”
“But I want to.” You said quickly, leaving no room for argument. “Can I see, please?” It was clear he was somewhat hesitant, but he unfurled himself enough for you to inspect his body. His lack of clothes from your planned activity made it easy to see the roughened and scarred skin covering his body in certain areas. It was varying colors and shapes, but they were all pretty in their own way. Knit skin reflected and shone, flashing and pulling. It was mesmerizing.
“Pretty gnarly, I know.” He joked.
“I like them,” You shuffled down his lap, leaning into his inner thigh to kiss the scars there. He inhaled sharply, shivering from the contact. You kept going, gently moving your lips over the healed skin, knowing it was probably extra-sensitive. “They’re pretty.” You looked up at him, all doe-eyed. He could feel himself stiffening, the love and contact and kissing all too much for his body as you gently trailed your fingers over the tent in his boxers, making him shudder.
“Fuck, babe.” He groaned. “Get up here, I wanna kiss you.” He smoothed his palm over your hair and neck as you kissed up his torso, brushing your lips against the scars on his ribs, moving up his neck until you were facing him.
“I love you, Peter. So, so much. I love every part of you.” You said earnestly. His eyes crinkled with fondness. Ne was no longer thinking about his scars or skin or whatever else. All he could focus on was how soft your touch was and how sweetly you were looking at him. It made his heart ache and his dick twitch.
“Love you so much, sweet thing.” He said before grabbing your face and smashing your lips against his. You tried to kiss him sweetly, but he quickly roughened, hot tongue licking into your mouth greedily. A horrible sound was pulled from the back of your throat as he pulled you into his lap, your core dragging over his hard bulge. You pulled away and he whined, trying to grab at you.
“Peter,” You pleaded. “Let me love on you, please.” He quickly caught your meaning as you slid off the bed onto your knees. He wasn’t about to deny, especially when you were looking at him like that.
“Fuck, sweetness” He groaned as he tugged off his boxers. “You’re gonna ruin me.”
#tasm peter parker#tasm!peter parker#tasm spiderman#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter x you#the amazing spider man#tasm!peter fluff#tasm!peter fanfiction#tasm!peter smut#peter parker x reader#tasm peter parker drabble#peter parker hurt/comfort#peter parker#smut#peter parker smut#drabble#anon ask#anon request
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These will be updated here and there. It’s likely that there’s some I won’t stick to when it comes to requests and even story ideas where they won’t fit.
He hates pickles. Anything that is green and smells that bad does not belong in the food section. But he loves pickled pigs feet.
He likes sex but can easily live without it.
He hasn’t been a virgin since his early teens (thanks to Merle and a handful of drug money)
It would take some serious, repeated encouragement and assurance (and a lot of time) before he’s comfortable having sex.
He is the type of guy that goes one step at a time, testing the waters. Making out, touching you, letting you touch him (slowly because his brain has been conditioned to flinch away). Everything would be through the clothes and then progress. Slow and steady wins the race.
He’s a switch. Sometimes, he wants all the say (so to speak) in the bedroom, watching you whimper and beg. Sometimes he just physically needs to give up control to balance the chaos.
Rarely, when he’s extremely needy, he wants you to tell him he’s a “good boy” and praise him for how incredible he makes you feel. He’d never ask for it but when you call him that on accident, his reaction was quite telling.
He can easily go from gentle to rough. He would never want to hurt you. Squeezing your throat, slapping your ass, teasing your breasts, or leaving love marks with his teeth absolutely do not count as hurting you.
Consent is a huge deal to him.
He’s always been quiet during anything sexual; On the rare occasions he talks, it’s reassurances and quiet, gentle praise. Otherwise, grunts and whimpers and low growls are what you get until he’s about to orgasm.
However, sometimes he’s just so wound up, so needy for you, that he can’t help but moan loudly or call your name.
He always tells you he’s close to or has already started cumming. No real rhyme or reason. Maybe just his way of letting you know that you took him there.
He has a genuine dislike of cats. He doesn’t hate them by any means but if he had to pick an animal that was secretly plotting world domination, it’d be cats.
He prefers boxer briefs.
The only name brand clothing he ever owned was underwear because his junk deserves only the best.
He’s superstitious, even if he pretends not to be.
He doesn’t like giving his significant other pet names beyond “sunshine,” “pipsqueak”, or “woman.” Things that you find endearing regardless. On rare occasions, he’ll use “doll” or “darlin’.”
He secretly adores when you call him “baby” or “sweetheart.” Pretty much any endearment that labels him as yours.
He rarely (but it does happen) says “I love you.” He’s more of an actions guy and if you say it first, he’ll usually only say “me too” or rub his knuckles over your jaw.
He can’t sleep if his feet are hot.
Spiders freak him out.
He hates showers, not because he just doesn’t like them. Being in a space with scars on display makes him feel vulnerable. The water touching the scars forces him to relive when he received them.
Contrary to popular belief, he does keep specific areas of his body acceptably clean, using the bathroom sink or river/lake/creek when he’s in the forest.
The dirt and grime that coat his skin is a grounding reminder of who he is, so he doesn’t completely lose himself in that dystopian world.
He has never hunted for sport, only for survival. He respects nature and what it provides.
He loves to read. His favorite book is The Outsiders.
He doesn't/wouldn't understand why his girl can't talk to him instead of a stranger. He would need some mental health education as the urging of Carol or Michonne before even remotely understanding. He wants to be supportive, first and foremost.
He fights tooth and nail to avoid getting "his head shrunk" but in the end, if it meant not losing his girl, he'd give in.
He is a horrible patient for physical ailments and even worse for mental ones.
#murda writes#daryl dixon#daryl dixon headcanon#daryl dixon fanfiction#the walking dead#daryl dixon fanfic#daryl dixon walking dead#daryl dixon the walking dead#daryl#the walking dead daryl#daryl dixon twd#daryl humor#daryl fanfiction#daryl twd#twd daryl dixon#twd daryl#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon x y/n#daryl dixon x you
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FINALLY sat down and drew the canon sluggers for once
extra headcanons under the cut for funsies :-)
• Spearmaster
only a few of the holes in their tail actually create spikes that are big and sturdy enough to be used as weapons, the smaller holes instead constantly create smaller, more fragile spikes that either eventually break or naturally fall off.
• Artificer
their "fur" is actually thick scar tissue that was left untreated and hardened creating a mass of stiff skin. They also have a dewlap but it shrunk due to malnutrition along with their now skinny tail .
• Rivulet
a subspecies of slugcat that evolved to be semiaquatic, their big wet eyes allow them to see underwater, and their long slim body facilitates swimming and makes them quite agile, they’re mostly bald instead they secrete an oily substance that protects their skin and keeps them moist.
• Gourmand
a normal slugcat, just one that's very good at slugcatting, they have a dewlap aswell as a big round tail, the sign of a specimen that is very good at survival as their tail stores extra fat.
• Saint
another slugcat subspecies, one that was able to adapt to the extreme cold, they are very small in size but make up for it with their dense fur, their saliva is thick to protect their tongue from frostbite.
• Survivor & Monk
the most average slugcats you'll ever find, ordinary members of their species, two siblings from the same litter Monk being the runt.
• Hunter
common slugcat who was iterator modified, their rot bumps very often itch and are very irritating while their rot "tentacles" are very short but will still gravitate towards smaller creatures and attempt to grab them if they come too close.
#rain world#rainworld#rainworld downpour#slugcat#spearmaster#artificer#rivulet#gourmand#saint#survivor#monk#hunter#saturn art
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For the angsty romance prompts, #6?
"i am sor-" "don't you dare apologize."
"I am sor-" "don't you dare apologize" from Angsty Romance Prompt List
Probably not that angsty, I just can't hurt this character
(no beta)
Masterlist
AO3
Headcanons
Reverie
"Astarion?"
He sits motionless with an empty stare into the darkness. His eyes are open wide and his lips moving as if he is whispering. The vampire is completely naked.
How long has he been like that?
He doesn't notice you. His whole world is probably shrunk to the dark chamber of his mind. Elven trance. Or more like its twisted version when Astarion just has to relive the same horrid events over and over again?
Reverie - the Elven trance - is the way for Tel'Quessira to remember their long lives. But what if your long life was just a parade of horrors until recently?
"Astarion, can you hear me?"
Nothing. He isn't here.
You aren't sure what to do. Wake him up? Put the blanket over his naked body? Just sit there till he returns to reality?
What?
You sit beside him and gently touch his hand. It's cold like marble. You study his veins visible through the pale skin.
"Astarion, wake up."
And again, nothing. You put your hand on his back, touching the edges of the scars.
The thought of how painful it was for him makes you sick.
Vampires are stuck in time. Their regeneration is nothing but reclaiming the state of the body at the moment of death. That's why Astarion's hair doesn't grow. And when Cazador would flay his skin, it healed within the moments - and then, the vampire lord flayed it again. And again. And again.
The only thing that can leave permanent marks is silver.
The silver dagger cut those awful symbols onAstarion's back. And it will always remind him of the past. Nothing will ever make up for this.
You try to be as gentle as possible, caressing his skin as if it were the cat's fur. Careful, thoughtful.
Then, you wrap your hands around his waist and place the cheek on his back as if trying to hear the heartbeat.
Suddenly, his body tenses. Astarion jumps on his feet, making you fall on the wooden floor. His face is distorted with anger.
"DON'T TOUCH ME!"
You stand up and reach out for him but he bares the fangs. He looks like a wounded predator, dangerous and desperate.
"I am not touching you. What was it?"
"Nothing," he mutters. "Fuck! Why?!"
"Why what?"
He steps back as if you've hit him.
"How can I be with you if I can't trust you?!"
Oh no.
His back.
It's not like he forbade you from touching it. But he said to you at least a few times not to touch it without consent.
You violated his boundaries. This innocent touch was like torture to Astarion. What is worse, caused by you.
"I am sorry-"
"Don't you dare apologize! You knew what you were doing!"
Whatever you say now, it will make it worse. Much worse.
"What next, Tav? What else will you want to do to me when I am in reverie? When I am unconscious?"
Suddenly Astarion gets silent as if finally noticing he is naked.
You leave the room, carefully closing the door, the feeling of guilt and self-blame scorching your brain.
… A few hours later, you sit on the roof of the inn, watching the town. It's dark and quiet at night, as if abandoned.
You hear the soft steps behind you. Astarion, fully clothed, looks at you with his crimson eyes that glow a bit.
"Listen… Tav... I shouldn't have yelled at you."
"Never mind. Should have chosen a different way to wake you up."
He sits beside you. "I was re-living the moments when those scars were engraved on my skin. Over and over again. I knew it wasn't real, I knew it was just a memory, but the the pain was so real, I couldn't do anything."
"Astarion, I promise I won't touch the scars ever again!"
He chuckles and then puts off his shirt as if feeling hot.
"I need you to touch them. Please. I want to forget. I need to forget!"
He sits on the edge of the roof, and you crawl away a bit, so his back is right in front of your chest. Astarion does look like a marble statue. Cold white skin and no breathing.
You carefully touch the upper scars, caressing them with your fingers. Astarion doesn't move.
You intensify your touches, stroking his back and drawing invisible figures on his skin.
"You know… Silver feels like melted steel. I thought I would die of pain and shock the moment he touched me. But it was only the beginning. It took him a few days to finish the poem. Well, we both didn't need to sleep, after all."
You plant a kiss in the center of the scars, and Astarion shivers.
"I couldn't die. Because I was already dead."
You put your hands on his shoulders. No one will ever hurt him. He won't allow it. You won't allow it. You are his, and he is yours.
"Tav..."
"Hm?"
"You see the scars every day. How repulsive do they look?"
"They don't."
"Tav, for fuck's sake..."
You touch his curls and make Astarion look at you. "They don't. I feel sick when I think about how you got them. I tremble every time I realize that when I was happy, when I had fun, when I cheered - you were tortured at that dungeon with no hope to escape. But the scars themselves don't look that awful. I thought so the moment I saw them for the first time. I still think so."
He smiles and kisses your forehead. Your heart melts.
"So, I can touch your back now, or I still should ask first?"
"Don't ask. Let's… limit consent to strictly sexual things, if I can word it this way."
"Deal."
"And about what happened earlier. I am sorry-"
You smile and put your thumb against his lower lip.
"Don't you dare apologize."
--
Tel'Quessira - Elves ("the people")
--
Tag list
@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl@starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @astarion-beloved @tallymonster@caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes
#Angsty Romance Prompt List#astarion#baldur's gate 3#bg3#bg3 astarion#astarion bg3#astarion romance#baldurs gate 3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#astarion angst#astarion drabble#astarion short fic#spacebarbarian fics
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Puzzle Pieces Ch.7
(Mafia!Miguel x Shy!Reader)
Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4, Ch.5, Ch6
Warning: Eventual Smut so Minors DNI, mentions of abuse, blood, murder, language, fluff, bullying, mentions of sex
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It had been far too long. Far too long since you've stayed alone with a man overnight. Your nerves were kicking in as you kept thinking about staying over at Miguel's place. You knew that he would never take advantage of you, but the nerves. The nerves wouldn't go away nor stop the thoughts.
Unable to stop shaking, you gasped as you dropped the order you were wrapping on the floor. Prepared to be yelled at, you shrunk and covered your ears. To your surprise, none of your coworkers yelled at you. They just quickly made another order and had to wrap it for them again.
You apologized and redid the wrapping, glancing around. You've seen these guys scream and yell at each other whenever someone fucks up. How come they didn't do it to you? Recalling Miguel, you started to wonder if he had a hand in this. Miguel was a regular and someone who did use the supermarket for something else that you still didn't know.
Could he have said something?
Playing with your sleeves, you tried to calm down. Could Miguel have said something to your bosses? The thought did make your heart flutter. How much was this man going to take care of you? You needed to find a way to return the favor.
"(Y/N), go take a break." Your Supervisor told you. You flinched and nodded,
"S-Sorry," You whimpered, hurrying off to the breakroom.
Right as you left, your Supervisor exhaled loudly and walked over to the small seating area in front of the deli. He placed a sandwich in front of a woman holding a newspaper.
"You got patience. I could never sit and watch someone for eight hours a day."
"That's why I got hired," Jessica said, lowering her paper, "You and I both know it isn't going to last forever. Miguel always gets what he wants."
------------
You held your bag in your hand, waiting for Miguel's text. You had prepped last night and the manager allowed you to leave your duffel bag in her office for your shift. Stepping outside the supermarket, you gasped lowly, spotting Miguel exiting his car.
"I was just about to text you," Miguel hummed. His driver rushing out to take your bag, "Would you like to go anywhere first before dinner? There's still some hours of daylight left."
"O-Oh, hmm..." You covered your mouth, trying to think as Miguel motioned you towards his car, "I-I'm not sure, there is...a few things I've been wanting to see..."
"Name them,"
Once you were both in the backseat of his car, Miguel brought you in for a deep kiss. He loved seeing how dazed and red you get each time. It was so addicting seeing your innocence. As you started naming some places, Miguel informed his driver to take them to each one.
Before they left, Miguel made sure to signal Jessica a good job and for her to go back home. Miguel was determined to make sure nothing gets you stressed or worked up. Especially not after seeing those scars.
Right as he leaned back into his seat, Miguel eagerly waited for a report from Miles. There was so much anger inside of Miguel that he needed to let it loose soon.
"Thank you, Miguel," You whispered, resting your head against his shoulder. Miguel wrapped his arm around your waist,
"Of course,"
---------
You were exhausted. Miguel had taken you all over the city, sightseeing a bunch of places you had wanted to visit. You felt so happy and loved. But mainly exhausted. All of that walking around since he couldn't drive into those places, did take a toll.
Rubbing your eyes as you sat back down in the back of Miguel's car, you whimpered a small yawn. Once the car started to drive, you immediately fell asleep.
---------
Miguel resisted a chuckle as he watched you sleep against him. Wanting to make you comfortable, Miguel adjusted you and had you lay your head on his lap. Miguel's jacket resting over you as a blanket. It was funny. Normally Miguel had women lay down in his car for other reasons, but this was nice.
As Miguel played with your hair, he felt his phone buzz. Assuming that it was Miles, Miguel hurriedly answered.
"Update?"
"Weeeeeeeeell," Lyla forced a laugh, "That mission you sent Miles on turned out to be a road trip."
"Que? (What)"
"See, Gwen and Hobie found out that Miles was going out of town and decided they want in. Then they dragged Pavitar with them, so to make sure they didn't mess up the mission or do anything stupid-"
"Don't say Peter-"
"I had Peter go supervise them," Lyla laughed.
Miguel couldn't handle hearing anymore. He hung up, groaning lowly. It just had to be the youngling of his group. They kept adding to his stress. But, at least Miguel had you.
"Shall I take you home, sir?" Miguel glanced up at his driver,
"Yes. Perhaps take out will suffice for dinner instead." Miguel replied, adoring your sleeping visage.
The last thing Miguel wanted to do was overstimulate you. You were fragile. His reports from Jessica were very detailed in what got you to tick and explode. It took every ounce of willpower for Miguel to stay back whenever Jessica reported you crying over a stupid, angry customer.
But, you won't be working there much longer. Arriving at his penthouse, Miguel carefully picked you up and carried you upstairs while his driver grabbed the bags.
You looked perfect in his arms. All nuzzled against him, sleeping peacefully. Why didn't you appear sooner in his life? Miguel was going to treat you like the queen you deserve to be. His precious little wife. A title so fitting for you.
Miguel had his driver leave the bags on the counter and told him to enjoy the rest of his day. With ease, Miguel took off both his shoes and yours and proceeded to take you to his bedroom. Miguel placed you on his bed, kissing the top of your head before leaving to order some food.
"Que duermas bien mi conejito. (Sleep well, my little bunny)"
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It was quiet. Your felt yourself start to come too as you shifted slightly in your sleep. You felt relaxed and comfortable. Slowly opening your eyes, you titled your head at the different, yet fancy ceiling. Miguel must have taken you to his place.
Gasping, you shot up, covering your face since you realized that you fell asleep. How embarrassing! You looked around, seeing that you were in his room, but no sign of Miguel. Laying back down, you felt yourself sink into his mattress.
"It smells like him," You whispered, holding his pillow close.
Your cheeks started to warm up as your heart pounded against your chest. You were really at Miguel's place. You wanted to feel like everything was moving so fast, but it also felt so right. It was corny, but you felt like Miguel was filling in the missing pieces.
"Ah, you're awake. Did you rest well?" Miguel asked as he entered the room. You quickly released his pillow and sat up,
"Mhm, s-sorry for falling asleep,"
"Don't be. I made you exhausted after a long day of work," Miguel sat beside you, cupping your cheek, "I got us some take out. Ready to eat?"
"Yep,"
You took Miguel's hand, giggling softly as he lifted you off the bed. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, enjoying the moment. Miguel held your hand as he showed you around his penthouse, at least until he took you to the dining room where dinner was waiting.
"T-This place...is...is so big. It...It must feel really lonely," You whispered.
Miguel glanced at you in awe. Every other women would compliment on his place, saying it must cost a fortune, or make a sly comment about him needing a maid. Yet, here you were, worried about him. It was funny how much Miguel loved you.
"Not too much since I'm only here so a short time. Unless I get a reason to home won't, I'll stay out working." Miguel handed you a plate.
"T-Thank you,"
You watched Miguel as he set the plates, finding him much more attractive. This was new. You sat up, wanting to help him, but Miguel insisted that you'd sit and relax. As Miguel set the plates, you picked at your sleeves. He was so nice to you. So understanding.
Perhaps, you could tell him your secret. It was something hard for you, but if you were going to be serious with Miguel, you wanted him to know. You were just worried about his reaction. What if he decided that you were ugly? What if he didn't want anything to do with you afterwards?
"(Y/N), what's wrong?" Miguel hurried to your side, wiping your tears away, "Tell me, mi amor (my love)."
"I-I'm so-sorry. I-It's just...I...I want...w-want to t-tell you s-something b-but...but I-I'm scared...t-that you'll w-want n-nothing to do...w-with me." You sobbed.
Miguel knew you were scared due to your worse stuttering. He held you against his chest, letting you cry. Miguel had a rough idea that you wanted to tell him about your scars. Hell, Miguel wasn't sure how he would react. Stroking your hair, Miguel sighed softly,
"(Y/N), I never want you to be scared of me. You can tell me anything. I'll still love you all the same," He tried to reassure you.
You sniffled, trying to calm down. You apologized for ruining dinner, but Miguel dismissed it. He reassured you once more, and told you to eat. Miguel wanted you to have some energy before telling him anything.
You agreed and ate beside Miguel, still sniffling every now and then. Once finished, you offered to do the dishes, needing some more time to calm down. Miguel said he was going to shower. That gave you some time.
Once dishes were done, you quickly looked through your bag for your pajamas, puzzles and cookies. When Miguel came out of the shower, you proceeded to enter. You grabbed Miguel's hand, slowly bringing him back into the bathroom.
"(Y/N)?"
"I-I was...in a....v-very bad relationship...b-before. Which, which is why I'm s-so scared...I-I really...really...like you Miguel. I-I want y-you to understand...m-my fear,"
"Of course,"
You closed your eyes as Miguel held your cheeks in his hands. He kissed your forehead, giving you motivation. You hummed lowly and slowly started to take off your clothes.
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Miguel watched you, telling himself to relax no matter the outcome. You needed his support, which was something he was not used to giving. His brows furrowed as you took your pants off. There were cuts, scars and a few cigarette marks.
Miguel felt his blood boil. Tears were streaming down your cheeks as your body started to shake. You were gripping the bottom of your shirt, hesitating to pull it up. Miguel almost didn't want you too, but this was for you.
"Lo mataré por ti, mi conejito. (I'll kill him for you, my bunny.)" Miguel whispered as he gave you a deep kiss.
Miguel watched the sparkle in your eyes shine as you made eye contact with him. His hands rested over yours, helping you remove your shirt. Miguel inhaled deeply as he observed your body, which was covered in those marks as well.
"S-Sorry...f-for not being-"
"Beautiful?" Miguel interrupted, needing to change your mindset, "You didn't make these marks, but they don't cover your beauty. (Y/N), I'll get revenge for you, but I need you to love yourself as much I do." He whispered, kissing your hand.
"B-But-"
"You have no idea how much I'm behaving right now. Seeing you shaking in front of me, ready to be devoured."
Miguel chuckled lowly as your face turned bright red. He captured your lips in another kiss before taking your hand and showing you how the shower worked. He smiled, watching you nod and hold his hand tightly.
You were warming up to him, and Miguel liked that. Letting you shower peacefully, Miguel made sure to compliment you once more. He stepped out of the bathroom and returned to the dining room, to make sure everything was cleaned.
To his surprise, he saw your cookies. A smile formed against his lips as he placed one in his mouth despite hating sweets. To his surprise, it wasn't too sweet. It felt just right. Feeling his phone buzz, Miguel looked at a text he received from Miles.
'We have a name.'
"Tch," Miguel hissed lowly, calling the kid, "I want more than just a name. I want everything on his fucker. If you guys find him, bring me to me."
"Whoa, guys? It's just me-"
"I can hear Hobie and Peter in the background," Miguel said unamused. Miles laughed awkwardly,
"Okay, fine. Hobie's asking if we can rough him up a bit?"
"No. Leave that to me."
Miguel immediately hung up upon hearing your call. He returned to the bathroom with a grim look on his face. Miguel was going to make sure your ex paid for what he did to you. For damaging his precious future wife.
You belonged to Miguel.
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next chapter <<<Heavy smut
@migueloharacumslut @18lkpeters @deputy-videogamer @leahnicole1219 @synamonthy @thedevax @jolynesposts @thraetor @freehentai @2099hitmylineyline @vvampir3s @dontfollowmepleaseitsannoying @secretadmirerisnowonline @jadeloverxd @bunnibitez @oharasfilipinawife @randomgoosegame @lilbanas @daisy-artfield @axi-moore @mimiemie @darkfairy102190 @jazzyj1011 @mcmiracles @innercreationflower @spoderssimp @thel0velykey190 @moonvoidpng @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @scaleniusrm @love4saturn @nyxgoddessofchaos13 @slutty-chronicles @ghstypaint @migueloharastruelove @brainmatterdump @a060403 @trendyharold @yannauauau @kimivixen @angel-xx-1 @nxrdamp @miguelzslvtz @lynxslokley @wafflefries786 @pochapo @what-the-jams @flaps200 @ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii @nakimushiohime @tojishugetiddies @aya-world @supercowgirl04 @mysteris-things @daisy-artfield @mcmiracles @alexa4040 @llama--drama @kpopscoups17130000 @havkjhdecs @ruexvn @tojishugetiddies
#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel spiderverse#spiderman 2099#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel spiderman#atsv miguel#across the spiderverse#miguel x y/n#miguel x you#miguel x reader
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I decided to have a go at doing my own redesigns because these three are my favourites and I love them very much. further notes + sources under the readmore (warning: lots of text). I did my best with the research, but if there's anything I overlooked, I'd really appreciate people letting me know :)
Tighnari:
My main source for Tighnari was this excellent thread, from which I looked up each item of clothing individually. Since djellabas tend to be quite long, and Tighnari needs mobility for forest ranger activities, I figured he would cut and re-hem the lower half. He also has a lot of clothing pieces that are traditionally multicoloured, but to keep his design cohesive I decided to use the same colours across different items, but using a larger palette of colours than I would usually. I like the bright colours on him a lot though!
There are also some minor details I just changed because I wanted to. The flower on his chest is now a nilotpala lotus, because I thought it was nice to include his acension material/the material he asks you to help gather. The dirt stains/scuff marks are because rainforests are muddy and I wanted the design to emphasise Tighnari being very practical and hands-on with his work (see also, the specimen belt).
Finally, I shrunk the magnifying glass on his back (because I'm pretty sure it's meant to be his first magnifying glass toy and that thing is very large for a child to handle) and gave him an undercut because it seemed right. Also, I merged his front and back trailing cloths into a scarf type of thing that he could wrap around his nose and mouth to prevent inhaling spores from mushrooms.
Collei:
COLLEI my beloved. I had a mild nightmare trying to figure out a specific source culture for her design, but nobody seemed to know specifics and her outfit wasn't matching with any traditional dress I looked up, so in the end decided to keep the overall look the same. Just in case I assigned her something else, but then it turned out I missed her actual inspiration.
Anyway, I made her shoes simpler (no fur, heels, and open toes in the rainforest seemed reasonable to me), and gave her shorts. I liked the green colour because it's pretty unique under a dark dress, and pairs nicely with Nahida's white dress + green undersides. Amber's tie stays, but I made most of her jewellery smaller since it felt a little clunky for a trainee ranger.
Her earring and necklace(?) are allusions to the Evil Eye and the Khmissa/Hamsa, both symbols of protection. Especially considering the fact they're meant to ward off evil, and very common across multiple MENA cultures, it seemed fitting for Collei to have them. Also, she has Eleazar scars, and I used the design for her stockings as inspiration for the combination knee braces (similar to those used for arthritis, since Eleazar also causes stiff limbs and I HC that people affected would probably still need some recovery support)/knee pads (in the case of a fall). I like the idea that Kaveh would have helped make them for her (tangent but the fic Here is the House explores similar ideas; it's really really good, I heavily recommend it). Finally, she has curly hair because I thought it would be cute.
Cyno:
Here's the thread I found for Cyno. The main critique was to do with the eras from which each aspect of his clothing drew inspiration, but I admittedly wouldn't be able to do much about this without a lot of research. One thing I did try and verify was the small strip of cloth on the left of his chest, and I found a few wall murals where the people seem to be wearing similar strips of cloth? (example here; rightmost figure) Therefore, I didn't remove it, but if someone wants to explain Ancient Egyptian clothing history to me I'd be really interested to hear it 6.6
I might iterate on the design in the future, but for now the changes are mostly HC territory. Cyno wearing his hair in locs (a protective hairstyle) makes sense for someone who does a lot of hiking after rogue scholars, and I also gave him quite old and faded top surgery scars because healthcare is canonically free in Sumeru (thanks for that information, al-Haitham)(though tbf Cyno makes bank anyway). I also adjusted the colours a bit, since Genshin tends to use desaturated shades for metallic elements.
I also considered giving Cyno more scars, but figured that it could indicate Hermanubis' presence that someone you'd expect to get injured a lot is relatively scar-free (i.e. some sort of godly healing factor/resistance to damage). However, we know next to nothing about Hermanubis, so Cyno having a lot of scars also makes sense. This paragraph is mostly just a cry for help cyno story quest 2 literally any more elaboration about the nature of Hermanubis' pact and the Temple of Silence.
Conclusion
I wasn't intending to write one when I started the explanations but this got REALLY long so if you made it this far, thank you so so much ToT please check out the links; the threads especially were a great resource, and I'm grateful that people take the time to make them <3 genshin's character design department are cowards but I'm glad I learned some new things through the redesign process
#FINALLY#IT'S DONE#I don't know why this took so long. maybe because I was trying new art style stuff#anyway I like how this came out!! my favourite guys#my main thoughts for each of them were like. tighnari <- kind of a chad. collei <- should get to wear shorts. cyno <- gap moe#<- i say having written 9 paragraphs about the development thoughts under the readmore. wahey#big shoutout to everyone who draws the archers ripped. you guys are inspirational#genshin impact#tighnari#collei#cyno#my art
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I finally had time to make proper designs for the Trio!
Redson: Ver 1
Ver 2
I couldn't decide on if I liked it better with the braids or not so I just posted both, but anyways!
I gotta admit, I used to not like the idea of redson having Bull features (except for a small pair of horn maybe) but the concept really grew on me and now I really love it and wanted to try making my own design and I'm really proud with how it turned out.
I would've added more scars, since Guanyins throne pierced his entire body, but there came a point where it just looked like there was too much going on so I had to get rid of a few scars to tone it down, so we're just gonna say they faded over time, okay? Okay.
I also made him Miao (one of the largest ethnic minorities in southwest China) on PIF's side, and Mongolian on DBK's.
The Miao ethnicity of China has a long history, rich culture, and an ancient folk religion. Adorned in beautiful traditional clothes, possessing natural talent for singing and dancing, they live in uniquely designed indigenous architecture, which I think fits perfectly with how I imagined Princess Iron Fan and with her; Redson.
As for DBK being Mongolian, I saw someone else talking about this headcanon and I just liked it so I decided to use it, I don't really have a specific reason for it, I just thought it fit, not sure why though, it's just one of those things that makes sense even if you don't know why, you know?
Mei:
I made her taller and gave her a long dragon tail (like really long, it drags along the floor if she's not holding it up), though her scales are pretty much everywhere across her body they're most noticeable on her shoulders, thighs, and face (they're a bit hard to see in this photo because they're kinda hidden behind her hair, but I did give her scales beside her eyes)
I also gave her horns these little spiral designs around them, gave her sharper nails, and designed her ears to look like coral, since she's a water dragon and I thought they looked cool.
Honestly idk what else to say about her design, I didn't have anything specific in mind when designing her, I kinda just had to wing it, but I'm happy with how it turned out :)
(I also made her Bengali, on her dad's side, but it's not really important or has any reason behind it, just a headcanon I've had for a while, don't know where it came from though)
MK:
Alot of people have speculated that the monkey form we see during the fight against Azure in season 4 isn't MK's full form yet, that we're just seeing a fraction of what he's yet to become, based on the fact that while he has the weird side burns, the tail and the face marking, he also lacks a natural skin tone, they didn't give him a proper nose etc, so I wanted to play with the idea.
I decided to make him this strange mix between human and monkey, leaving him pretty much human with the addition of his tail(s), and weird li'l monkey feet.
(I was also gonna give MK more arm/leg hair, it was in my first sketch, but I forgot to add them when I was doing the line art and didn't realize until after I saved it as a jpeg, so that's my bad, but I'm gonna add it in to any other art I make)
It's also a bit hard to see in this, but I designed his staff with more details, specifically adding dragon-esque imagery to the Golden ends, this is because (for anyone who's new to the fandom/hasn't read JTTW) Wukong's staff was originally one of the several pillars that held up the sea in the dragon palace, until he stole it and shrunk it down to use as his weapon.
I also did MK's clones :)
Porty MK:
I gave him stripes of coloured hair and gave his tails all different colours, though I don't think he would actually dye it, instead I like to think that he would use that really crappy dollar store spray in hair dye (or hair chalk). I kept the fishnet clothes that I added in my originally design of him for my headcanons post, and decided to give him striped elbow length fingerless gloves.
I also gave him a cropped shirt, ripped shorts and these weird fingerless glove-esque shoes for convenience, since regular shows seem like they would be uncomfortable.
Edit: my dumbass forgot Porty's stupid print jacket 😭
Artist MK:
For Artist MK I gave him overalls and a jacket over it, which he wears specifically for when he's doing paintings so he doesn't ruin too many of his actual clothes (I know I said that this was inspod by Circusapple, which it still is, but this is almost exactly what I wear when I'm painting too, just in different colours).
I also gave him those gloves that digital artists wear so they're hands don't accidently trigger something on the screen because everyone knows that every artist just walks around with their art glove on even when it's not necessary.
Delivery MK:
I have to admit, I was never a big fan of MK's work uniform just being his regular clothes with a work jacket thrown over it so I wanted to try and make him look a little more professional and decided to instead give him a chef coat (similar to the one Pigsy wears on the show as well), with a logo for the restaurant on the chest, along with it I gave him plain black pants, since casual red jeans didn't seem very professional (I know he's just a delivery person, but if you were to look at pretty much any food corporation, even people who do deliveries have to wear uniform, so it's always been kinda strange to me that he's just in regular clothes).
The shoes were harder to make professional given the whole "half-monkey" thing so I opted to give him the same strange fingerless glove-esque shoes for comfort and convenience, but made them plain black as well.
#lego monkie kid#fanart#lego monkie kid red son#monkie kid red son#lego monkey kid fanart#red son#lego monkie kid mk#lmk spicynoodles#lmk mk#hong hai'er#lmk mei#lego monkie kid mei#monkie kid mei#long xiaojiao#qi xiaotian
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April Fool Interaction
"..."
"… Sir, who are you?" Minhyeok tensely stared at the tall hunk with white hair standing in his room. The guy had two small horns that contrasted clearly with his short white hair, streaked with red, indicating that he was a devil. He wasn't wearing a shirt, exposing his upper half proudly adorned with minor scars and cuts, while his stomach was covered in a bandage. Clad in black attire and white boots with red patterns and belts reminded Minhyeok of the motorcycle gang fashion from Japan in the mid-1900s.
"His eyes are unnerving," they were eye-catching for sure, with black sclera and red irises featuring a cross in the middle of his black pupil, along with unrealistically long red lashes. Unless the other man was a really dedicated cosplayer.
A low chuckle from the devil got his attention back to the possibly dangerous matter at hand. Minhyeok's eyes quickly scanned his room for his baseball bat in case he needed to run or jump out of the nearest window. However, the good-looking home invader's youthful voice gave him a double take.
"Minhyeok! How can you not recognize your best friend Ppyong?!" the devil asked in an arrogant tone, yet still with a childish feel to his speech that was mortifyingly similar to a small red devil he used to talk to.
"… What?"
He wasn't sure if he was sober for this. He was quite sure he hadn't drunk any soju or alcoholic beverage last night when he was out with his friends at university.
"What's with the shocked face? Shouldn't you know it's me from a mile away?!" The handsome devil turned fully to him, his face marked with a boyish pout and a frown, his muscular arms crossed in front of his strong chest.
"… Nope" He wasn't willing to acknowledge this. The imagery between the small perverted red devil from before and this impressive-looking guy was too jarring to even think about.
He was about to close the door to his apartment and maybe take a walk somewhere else before his right arm was seized and dragged inside, with the door closed behind him. His back slammed into the door with a thud, the rugged bandaged arm slamming above his head. The looming presence made him look up to the devil who was currently kabedon-ing him.
"Hey, why are you running away?" Ppyong asked in a lower voice, his red brows now frowning seriously as he looked down upon Minhyeok. Normally, he would be more flustered by this kind of act from more assertive people who had tried to flirt with him before, but the flooding memories of the devil small enough to sit on his shoulder and the restroom incident from last time where the very same red lump kept harassing him for his semen, made this experience more perplexing than ever.
When he didn't answer, Ppyong only lowered his head, closing the distance between them. Minhyeok could scent the lemon caramel from his breath just by the gap alone. Minhyeok turned his head away with a blush, his heart beating uncomfortably loud in his chest.
"Miinnhhyyeeokk~" the devil said his name with a draw. Minhyeok shrunk a bit further, contemplating whether or not it was worth it to kick this fine man away from him.
"Hey! Minhyeok, why are you ignoring this great Ppyong? Did I do something wrong?" When Minhyeok tried to slither away, the white-haired devil only stopped his track with another muscular hand to his left side and a strong knee effectively blocking his other escape path, closing the space between them even further.
"This is bad…" He could feel the heat covering his entire face down to his neck, his palms pathetically sweaty and his grip on his backpack hardened.
He wasn't even hearing the barrage of questions the devil was throwing at him. "Do devils not have the concept of boundaries down there?!" He really wanted to smack away the toned chest and collarbones on his eye level and go outside to cool down from... whatever was happening right now.
That was until he heard a wet sniffle from Ppyong. When he looked up at the devil, tears had already pooled out from his pretty sharp eyes, and snot from his nose. His toned hands were now grabbing Minhyeok's shoulder.
"Minhyeok, you are not dying, are you?! I heard somewhere that humans become more quiet and avoidant when they near death!" The handsome guy opposite him was now yelling, his body trembling with tears and sadness.
"… Excuse me?"
"So you are dying?! NO! You can't die! If you do, who will give Miss Raon human energy?! And who will give me Fererere from now on?! You can't die now!" The devil was now hugging him tightly, and Minhyeok could feel the wetness of tears and disgusting snot on his shoulder and face. For some reason, it reminded him of Raon.
Thinking back to her calmed him down despite the sheer ridiculousness of the situation right now. He should calm Ppyong down first, then get the food, laundry, and his… fluid ready, and maybe chat for a bit before sending the guy back to Hell.
"Ppyong, calm down-"
"That's it! Humans have hospitals, right? Let's get you there before you suddenly drop dead!" Before Minhyeok could register what was happening, he was easily picked up in a princess carry.
"Huh? Wait, Ppyong!-"
With a swift and determined stride and Minhyeok secure in his arms, Ppyong leaped over the apartment railing, his powerful legs propelling him from rooftop to rooftop, his steps unexpectedly light.
As Minhyeok clung to Ppyong's shoulder for dear life, the rush of wind whipped past them, tousling his hair and sending a thrill coursing through his veins. It was as if they were slicing through the night air with effortless grace, defying gravity itself. The sensation was exhilarating, yet tinged with a hint of fear as they soared from one rooftop to the next.
The wind howled in his ears, bearing the faint tang of ozone and the muted roar of distant traffic. Buildings dissolved into a kaleidoscopic blur as they soared through the nocturnal sky. With each leap, Minhyeok's heart pounded in his chest, his breath catching in his throat as he struggled to keep pace with Ppyong's determined strides.
Amidst the chaos of their rooftop escapade, Ppyong's expression was one of grim determination, his features set in a steely resolve as he focused on their journey. There was no laughter or the loud voice of pride now, only the sound of footsteps echoing against the concrete as Ppyong raced against time to reach their destination. The weight of Ppyong's urgency hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the 'seriousness' of the situation, which, unfortunately, was a misunderstanding.
Minhyeok's mind raced, a mixture of terror and awe, as he witnessed Ppyong's extraordinary strength and agility. He desperately tried to talk some sense into Ppyong, pleading with him to reconsider their reckless journey. But Ppyong's determination was stubborn as a mule, his focus solely on reaching the hospital in time to save Minhyeok's life from whatever unknown illness he thought the human in his arms had in his mind.
Not having it anymore, Minhyeok shouted, "You stupid idiot! Do you even know where the hospital is?!" The dumb white hair devil even had the gall to look at him in annoyance when he shouted back.
"Of course, this great devil knows! Don't worry, Minhyeok, your best friend will have your life saved no matter what!" That would have sounded genuinely comforting if it was in a different context, but it was another story when Minhyeok was perfectly healthy and the devil was going nowhere near any of the hospitals in the city. He even passed several of them during his wild parkour maneuvering through the urban night.
The irony made Minhyeok question whether to laugh or cry at this point. So he shouted the money-winning question to the himbo carrying him, "Then where is it?!"
"It-…! Where… where are we now?" Now the devil stopped on the roof of a market somewhere in Gangnam-gu and looked around with a worried face. It was a feat beyond human capabilities, really, to be able to run and jump from roof to roof without breaking a sweat, several kilometers away from Minhyeok's apartment, and yet here they were, lost.
Minhyeok massaged his head heavily to ease his headache. Moments like these made him wonder if this was one of the things Raon had to deal with in Hell. If so, then he had to give it to her. He only met one devil, and in less than a day, he already felt drained.
His tired groaning must have affected the devil since he felt a flinch when he looked up. Ppyong's face was marred with guilt and tears, which were about to flow out of his pretty eyes again. It felt like he was looking at a sad puppy rather than a powerful devil. He guessed Ppyong was no different no matter the form he took on.
With habit's ease, he let his hand gently pat the soft white hair to calm the cute guy down. It unexpectedly worked, since Ppyong seemed to melt into his touch with each passing second.
"I'm not dying. I'm just shocked at how different you look, that's all. I'm sorry for not being upfront" Ppyong seemed like he was about to protest, but Minhyeok pressed on.
"Thank you for worrying about my health, but please make sure to ask first before you jump to a conclusion like this" The sad puppy look came back again, and Ppyong mumbled an apology in his youthful voice.
"Sorry, I was too excited and wanted to show you this form, but I was scared that you were hurt somewhere… Things have been rough lately in Gehenna… Will you forgive me?"
Minhyeok could only chuckle at the pleading sad eyes of the devil above him. He could see why Raon took a liking to devils like him. If they were honest like this, then no wonder.
"Can you get us down from here? I need to buy some groceries to make meals for you and Raon anyway. Once we are done, take me back to my apartment and wait for me to get the necessary things ready before you go"
Ppyong smiled brightly at him with an innocent gleam in his eyes, surprising Minhyeok when the devil hugged him tightly in his arms.
"Minhyeok! You're really a great guy, you know that?", he could feel the bulging muscle of the man from their close contact and it only embarrassed Minhyeok further.
"Yes, yes, okay. Now get us down and let me go afterward, okay? Also, button up your coat before we go in," he gave half-hearted slaps to Ppyong's chest, pulled himself away, and averted his eyes from the grinning devil.
"OK! Oh! And can you buy me some snacks too?"
"Sure, and tell me how Raon is doing while we're shopping."
#what in hell is bad#whb#whb minhyeok#whb ppyong#crack fic#crack ship#I have to do this#I can not NOT do this#minhyeok is aware he is bi in this#this is just a crack fic so don't take it too seriously#just a fun scenario I have for them
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