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bangtanflirt · 2 days

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(Un)natural Instincts (Part 13)

*Series taglist is closed.

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6 > Part 7 > Part 8 > Part 9 > Part 10 > Part 11 > Part 12

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: SA trauma recovery and boundary setting, recovering from malnourishment, jealousy, hard dom/sub sexual dynamics, dirty talk, rough sex with anal penetration and breath play, mental infidelity (morally grey since packs have a different view of relationships and exclusivity, but characters are feeling guilty about their thoughts)

____

Namjoon takes the white towel from Hoseok’s hand, motioning for the older wolf to sit on the bed and let him dry his hair. He hums as he massages his packmate’s scalp through the towel, smiling at how cute Hoseok looks when he’s relaxed like this. It’s not just the way his eyes flutter, but everything else. It’s only been a few days since he’s been eating proper meals, but that—and the fancy vitamin supplements you’ve been giving him—have been making visible progress in fighting his malnourishment. His face is no longer sunken in and colorless, and his hair has gotten some of its shine back as well.

There are still moments where everything feels dizzy and weird, as his body relearns to enjoy eating, but overall, Hoseok is in a much better place with food.

“You’re getting your glow back.”

The wolf smiles, feeling his almost dry hair, “Feeling a lot better these days.”

Namjoon pulls away from drying to face Hoseok, fingers gently stroking the wolf’s cheek.

“Tae and Jimin told me about the conversation they had with you. I told the others as well. If you say it’s okay, then I’m going to assume it is. I’m trusting you to set your own boundaries, you know that right?”

It’s moments like these where Namjoon shines the brightest in Hoseok’s eyes. Moments where he knows exactly what to say.

“I am okay, I promise. Thank you for trusting me.” This conversation could have gone a different way, and Hoseok was bracing himself for how frustrating it could’ve been.

But Namjoon knows the difference between leading his pack and infantilizing them, and he’s never for a second thought of Hoseok as incapable of making his own decisions. It’s just, most of the time, the wolves want him to make these decisions instead. It makes them feel safe and cared for when an Alpha does all the thinking.

A gentle knock on the open doorframe interrupts the moment, with both heads turning towards you.

“Just the two I wanted to talk to. Can I come in?”

Hoseok nods immediately, while Namjoon nervously goes along with it. He still doesn’t know how to be around you after realizing the extent of his crush. It feels wrong to look at someone else’s girlfriend with the way he looks at you. Especially not when he’s taken himself.

Hence the way he looks everywhere but at you when you sit in front of them.

“I have a proposition.”

Namjoon can’t help the little chuckle that comes out, endeared by how you sound like you’re leading a boardroom negotiation right now.

Your eyes narrow, looking at him with a pout.

“Sorry, you just looked cute.”

The words leave his mouth faster than he processes what he’s said.

Fuck.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Did I really just say that out loud?

The blush on his cheeks is violent red. You don’t seem phased, though, as you laugh it off.

“Hobi, you better hold onto your Alpha before I steal him.”

Namjoon knows it’s nothing more than a joke to you, but the words have him shifting uncomfortably in seat.

Hoseok obliviously smiles, “You can try Y/N, but our Alpha is too head over heels over us for that to ever happen.”

The Alpha gives a strained smile. Of course, nothing could ever tear him away from his packmates—but that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty for what he’s feeling towards you.

“Fair enough. Okay, back to my proposition.”

You hand Namjoon a manilla folder, with the name “Cha Mi-Suk” over it.

“Cha Mi-Suk?”

“She’s a psychiatrist who also provides psychotherapy, and she’s agreed to work with Hoseok—if that’s okay with the two of you. Assuming I’m supposed to ask you both. Or is it just a conversation between Hoseok and I? Or do I need to ask the whole pack. Sorry I’m not--” you can’t help going on a tangent and tripping over your own words.

This whole hierarchy thing was confusing and new, and you wanted to make sure you were doing it right. On one hand, it feels condescending towards Hoseok to have to ask Namjoon’s permission. However, not asking Namjoon feels like you’re dismissing his authority over them. They don’t teach you this stuff in business school.

“Relax Y/N. This is okay.” Namjoon reassures, “Hobi prefers I make these kinds of decisions for him.”

Hoseok nods, peeking at the papers as the other wolf flips through them.

“But how did you get someone to agree to this? Isn’t it illegal?”

Yes, it very much is illegal. Hybrids are only allowed “therapy” in state-sanctioned facilities like adoption centers, where the government can keep the extent of it under supervision. Designed to gaslight and manipulate hybrids until they bottle the trauma down enough to get adopted, rather than working to help them in any meaningful way. It’s not rocket science to see why private practices aren’t allowed: that would mean giving the hybrids a voice, and possibilities of therapists empathizing with them.

Which is why you were as careful as possible while looking into this for the past few days, all with the help of your boyfriend.

“It’s going to be risky to even ask, but I think Cha Mi-Suk is our best shot if we’re proceeding.” Yoongi had said this morning, over the phone.

“I’ll ask.”

“No, let me. You’ve never broken the law before, Y/N. It’s best to keep your hands clean.”

“I can afford to be in trouble. You can’t. And I know I’ve been a stickler for the law, but I don’t think I’ll regret breaking this one. Not when it’s so cruel.”

You remembered Mi-Suk from one of the parties you’d attended in the past, mother to the CEO of a start-up you had helped get on its feet. She would’ve been forgettable if not for the little scene she had caused during dinner—drinking one too many glasses of champagne and reprimanding another guest for being sleazy towards their fox hybrid.

It was an unusual scene at one those events, someone actually defending a hybrid…something you wished you were brave enough to do back then, without caring of what anyone would say or think about you.

You had found her admirable in that moment.

Thankfully, you and Yoongi’s hunches were right, and it took very little convincing (and a lot of money) to get her on board.

“You’re right, it is illegal. That’s why it’ll have to be a secret. It won’t be on any official records, and she’ll never meet him in person. If we go through with it, Yoongi and I will set up a secure private video chat that he can use for weekly sessions.”

Namjoon nods along, scanning all of her information and credentials with a protective instinct.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this? Breaking the law for us?”

“If it means Hobi can sleep a little better at night, I’m willing to do anything.”

The Alpha can’t help the way his heart flutters when he hears that. How can he hold himself back when you talk as if his pack is your own? You’re really not making this easy for him.

Hoseok’s eyes have stars in them, finally seeing a glimmer of hope for the future.

“It’s okay with me,” Namjoon concludes, “I think it’d be good for you, pup. What do you think?”

The wolf nods at lightning speed, “I’ll give anything a try! Thank you Alpha! Thank you Y/N!”

___

Yoongi comes home in the evening, singing to himself as he takes his shoes off. It’s hard to keep his tune, though, when there’s a constant soft thud coming from one of the rooms. He follows the sound to your library, where a determined blonde wolf is trying to fix one of the side tables.

“You’re going to split the wood if you hammer the screw that hard.”

Jin jumps up, too lost in concentration to register Yoongi’s cologne fill the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to frighten you.”

Yoongi joins the wolf on the floor, sitting a little too close for Jin to maintain composure. His cologne is inescapable now. A blended scent of maple and chestnut that makes the wolf feel both calm and nervous.

“Can I help?”

Jin nods, handing the hammer over while subconsciously licking his lips. There’s just something about Yoongi that he can’t help but be drawn to…an aura of confidence that’s never domineering—quiet, subtle, yet commanding. It tugs at his heartstrings in ways that’s usually only reserved for his pack.

Even now, he can’t help but want to watch this sight for hours: the way the man rolls up his sleeves and juts his lips out in concentration.

And how he knows just the right pressure to put on the nail…

…the way he shakes his hair out of his eyes.

…and, the cherry on top of the cake: his fucking fingers.

Long and narrow and so goddamn pretty wrapped around that hammer.

They’d probably look just as pretty inside of--

Jin shakes his head, trying to snap himself out of it.

A mix of lust, guilt, and five hundred other emotions he can’t quite name yet all tornado in the pit of his stomach.

Can’t stay here. Can’t be near him right now.

All the alarm bells ring, and the wolf’s body language changes from too stiff to a jittery mess in seconds.

“I—uh—I remembered there’s something I have to do.” Is the most he can muster before almost running out, leaving a confused Yoongi to finish up the table by himself.

The wolf darts straight to where the smell of oranges is the strongest—the scent of his Alpha to replace the one of Yoongi’s cologne. Leading him straight to the bathroom of your home gym. Namjoon’s stripped down to his underwear, getting ready for a post-workout shower, when he gets ambushed with a hug.

“Hi to you too.” The wolf laughs, wrapping his arms around the welcomed intruder.

But then he notices something weird: Jin never hugs Namjoon when he’s all sweaty, so something was definitely off, “Is something wrong, hyung?”

“I need to feel you. Inside of me. And I need to feel it now because I’m going insane.”

Whatever Namjoon was expecting…this was not it. His underwear suddenly feels a lot tighter.

“Okay, that’s the hottest thing I’ve heard in a while, but something’s clearly up…”

Jin doesn’t skip a beat to confess, doesn’t even avoid eye contact as the words come out of his mouth.

“I think I just got turned on by Yoongi.”

Namjoon’s eyes nearly bulge out of his eye sockets.

“You think WHAT?”

Jin crosses his arms, narrowing his eyes to stare the younger wolf down.

“Hey, no judgement. Don’t act like you don’t have any feelings for Y/N.”

If the first statement wasn’t enough to destabilize him, this one knocked the wind right out of his body.

“H-how did you know?”

“You really think you can keep anything from me? I’m your first packmate. I can read your thoughts like they’re written on your forehead.”

Namjoon coughs, face hot and red. This isn’t a conversation he’d ever planned on having. The plan was simple: crush on you for a little while, get over it on his own, never let a single packmate know.

But now, as it lays out in the open, the guilt has him scrambling.

“I can explain…I…”

Jin waves a hand dismissively, “Hush. We can have a rational talk about this later. Right now, I’m telling you, my Alpha, that I was thinking about another man’s fingers inside of me. So, are you going to do something about that or should I keep imagining—”

All guilt and remorse fade away from Namjoon’s eyes, leaving half-lidded dark orbs in their stead. He doesn’t wait for his packmate to rile him up any further before grabbing the blonde by the waist and hoisting him onto the bathroom counter, quite literally ripping off his clothes from his body.

“Now this, this is what I needed” Jin smirks, claws lightly dragging along Namjoon’s bare back.

“God, you’re such a fucking brat.”

Just the word “brat” has the older man whining. It’s been a minute since he’s been called that. Been years since he acted like one. Ever since the youngest three came into the picture, he’d fallen into more of a dominant role in the bedroom, with their omegas being much more needy than his beta. Although they were all more human than wolf—to the point where only the Alpha distinction really mattered—there was still an unspoken shift when omega hybrids joined the pack. Partly a hormonal thing, but more societal. A beta is supposed to help their Alpha keep the omegas happy. That’s just how it’s always been. When it was just him and Hoseok with Namjoon, the betas could act however they wanted with their Alpha. But the moment Jimin first came into their lives, everything shifted. Suddenly, there was an omega in the picture. Then two. Then three.

And unlike Hoseok, who seemed to prefer giving care, it took Jin a little longer to fit into his new role. Granted, it wasn’t difficult at all—how could it be, when he adored the omegas to the moon and back? When it was instinct to dote on them? It wasn’t long before he grew to love their new dynamic, putting his all into spoiling the pups.

But now, as content as he is with his role in the pack, he can’t help the excitement that surges in his veins at being called a brat again. It makes him feel like that young little wolf he was all those years ago, at the bar where he first met Namjoon. He had spent the entire night pushing just the right buttons to get the Alpha riled up, knowing he’d be in for quite the lesson in the back alley afterwards. And he couldn’t have been more right.

The Jin and Namjoon of those days were fiery and hot and burned each other when skin touched skin. But as the burning passion replaced itself with quiet comfort, it seemed as if only the omegas’ scents could get Namjoon riled up in the same way.

Or so Jin thought. Because looking at his Alpha now, it’s as if the pheromones of fifty omegas are calling to him at the moment. All from a little jealousy.

“Same limits? And safeword?” Namjoon makes sure Jin is fully present in the moment, getting him to squeeze his hand as he answers.

Jin nods, “Same limits, red, and tap twice if I can’t speak.”

“Good boy. I’m not going to hold back.”

“I don’t want you to.”

Namjoon brings his face close to the beta’s neck, grazing his skin with the tips of his canines before whispering in the older man’s ear.

“If you think about him even once while I’m fucking you, I’m going to make sure you can’t walk for months. Is that clear?”

“Y-yes Alpha.”

With Jin’s clothes in a ripped up pile on the floor, the Alpha wastes no time in spreading his beta’s hole wide open, circling the puckered rim with his index finger. He laughs at how just this act gets the older wolf’s ears red in embarrassment.

“Fuck, you look so tight. You could pass as a virgin right now. But don’t worry, Alpha will make it fit.”

Every sinful word coming out of Namjoon’s mouth has Jin getting slicker by the second. But even as slick as he is, the first finger still causes him to jolt up, squirming at the intrusion.

His legs flail on both sides of Namjoon, unable to find footing on anything as he’s on the edge of the counter. The younger wolf decides to show a little mercy and push him back against the mirror, letting the soles of his feet find some balance.

It’s the only mercy Namjoon’s going to give, however, because his finger is sliding in and out of the man with unrelenting speed. And just when Jin’s tensing up a little less, body adjusting to the feeling, the second finger thrusts in with even more force.

“Still so tight. Gonna need three fingers to open you up.”

Jin shakes his head, “Can’t—fuck!—Can’t take three. Please, I’m too—ungh—tight.”

Namjoon uses his free hand to grab the wolf’s chin, demanding eye contact.

“Unless you say the safeword, only I decide how much you can take. Understood?”

“U-understood! Sorry Alpha!”

Contrasting his harsh tone, Namjoon’s eyes are dialed in on every movement Jin is making, fully aware of what his body language looks like when he’s at his limits—which isn’t right now.

No, right now he’s just being an absolute brat. And it’s Namjoon’s duty to make sure he fucks it out of him.

The third finger is especially brutal in the stretch, causing tears to pool around his eyes. It’s the best kind of pain, the kind that has him grow more and more slick—until the wetness is running down Namjoon’s hands and it feels like even four fingers could slide in easily. But a fourth never comes.

Instead, his hole is left empty and twitching as Namjoon slides down his own boxers—cock standing deliciously tall and dribbling pre-cum.

Jin closes his eyes, trying to take deep breaths to prepare for the intrusion, but even that luxury is taken from him. Because, before anything even goes near his hole again, the Alpha’s hand wraps around his throat—allowing just enough airflow to keep him conscience.

If Namjoon thought Jin was tight before, it’s nothing compared to now, when his restricted airways only make his hole clench even harder around nothing. It’s not just lust in the air, but a primal need to be as close as possible after three months of becoming strangers to each other’s bodies. Namjoon can’t have his mate forgetting the pleasure only he can give. Can’t have him thinking about any men outside of the pack just because he hasn’t provided his touch in a while.

He lines himself to the entrance, letting a deep growl escape his lips as the head pops in. The blonde’s eyes to widen to the size of saucers at the stretch, throat still too closed off to properly moan.

“Still good?”

Unable to speak, the beta signals a thumbs up sign, giving Namjoon the go ahead to keep pushing all the way in. Only when he’s bottomed out does he let go of Jin’s neck, opting to wrap around the man’s cock instead. Sounds of skin slapping get louder as Namjoon fully loses himself, reveling in the way his length is being squeezed.

The sound mixes effortlessly with Jin’s sultry moans—thankfully, the size of the mansion spares the sounds from blaring throughout the house.

Even if he wasn’t inside of him right now, this visual alone could drive Namjoon wild: his gorgeous packmate, with flushed cheeks and tightly shut eyes, chasing for an orgasm that’s just out of reach. It’s the kind of expression that makes him wish he was a full wolf—one that could give his mate a proper knot. Because god knows what Jin would’ve looked like getting knotted. The thought alone almost makes him lose it. But he calms himself down, mindful of his current mission: making sure the man in front of him is fucked utterly dumb.

“Who do you belong to?”

The wolf doesn’t—can’t—answer immediately, brain too wired from the cock drilling into him. But he manages to let out a whiny, barely intelligible “you.”

“Are you thinking of anyone else right now?”

Jin shakes his head no, almost violently. He barely knows where he is anymore, let alone any other name besides his Alpha’s. All that he can think about are the eight inches of pure bliss hitting against his prostate, and the big hand that’s sloppily stroking his length.

“Words, brat.”

“No! Only you! Only-ungh-you!”

It only takes a few more strokes for Jin to be pushed all the way over the edge, legs shaking as he rides his high, shooting strings of white on Namjoon’s chest in the process. The sight is all it takes for Namjoon’s orgasm to hit in tandem, all of his senses reaching their heights before disappearing entirely—until the only thing he can feel is the pleasure overtaking every nerve in his body. The two stay still for a moment, both fearing overstimulation from any movement as they stabilize their breaths.

It’s Jin who moves first, gently pushing the Alpha off of him. The two watch, mesmerized, at where they separate: the Alpha’s cum slowly leaking out onto the countertop. It’s so much cum.

“You’re lucky I’m back to feeling nice, or I would make you lick all of it up.”

Jin lets out an out-of-breath chuckle, body still leaned against the mirror, “I won’t waste a single drop next time. Promise.” The tiredness catches up to him, causing his eyes to close on their own as Namjoon cleans the mess.

“Come on baby, we should shower.”

“Too tired.”

“You don’t want to go out there all sticky and sweaty, do you?”

Jin whines for a moment, because the feeling of stickiness and sweat are definitely uncomfortable, but he also can’t feel his legs enough for a shower.

“Fine. But you have to carry me.”

Namjoon laughs while lifting the wolf up, letting him wrap his legs around his torso as he makes his way over to the stall. The warm water runs between both of their bodies, washing away every trace of the lewd acts that were just committed. Every trace except the smell of sex that lingers in the air, mixing with the orange and vanilla of the two hybrids. They stay like that for a while, hugging under the water as Namjoon hums a soft melody in Jin’s ear. Eventually, Namjoon does put the wolf down to properly wash him, supporting both of their body weights as the beta still can’t seem to stand.

“Was I too rough? It’s been so long…”

“You weren’t. I loved it. I love you.” Jin punctuates with a kiss, as deep and passionate as the first one they shared.

“I love you too. I’m sorry about Y/N.”

“And I’m sorry about Yoongi. I know you’re not his biggest fan.”

“So…where do we go from here?” It’s a rare moment, where Namjoon’s the one asking instead of answering. But the look on his face makes it clear that he really doesn’t know.

“We keep each other’s secret.”

Namjoon quirks up a brow as Jin further explains, “We keep it between us, manage our feelings, and the pack never has to know. I’m guessing that’s what you were planning on doing anyway, so just add me into it.”

Damn, Jin really did have him all figured out.

“Okay. We’ll keep it between us.”

Fool-proof plan, right?

____

A/N: Don't worry friends, Hobi was NOT listening to that filth. Baby was watching Netflix with Jimin on the other side of the mansion (after excitedly telling him about therapy <3)

Permanent Taglist: @skyys-universe @morelovefortn @seagulljk @shadowyjellyfishfest @m4gg13-g @wittyreader

Series Taglist [CLOSED]: @welcometomyworld13 @kalala22 @fxirytaetae @btsfluffsworld @belikejk @shycreationdreamland @danielle143 @singukieee @blackrockshooter780 @g-b-artist @i-have-no-life-charlie @sopemee @no-regrets-just-confusion @acciocriativity @ldysmfrst @amara-mars @caelumwrites @estrellaburnxd @borahaetelevision @on-1ce @fuckthinking @jaiele

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #ot7 x reader #poly bts #bts angst #bts smut #bts fluff #hurt/comfort

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teasteeper · 1 day

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deal (l.yy)

masterlist

pairing: yangyang x f!reader

genre: smut 18+ mdni

warnings: loser!yy, perv!yy, pinv, oral (m receiving)

words: 0.7k

“ugh, you’re so gross!” you whine, squirming under yangyang's body, his weight crushing your hips as he lays between your legs.

“hm..” his moan vibrating against your tit as his lips circle around the sensitive bud, “say it again” he mumbles, pulling back from your chest with wet and puffy lips. you scowl at the drool coating his chin, the feeling of it all over your chest and dripping down the side of your body.

“you’re drooling” you shoot back, squirming against his heavy cock pressed to your cunt. precum oozes from his tip and makes a sticky mess between your bodies.

“you said i could do whatever i want” he reminds you of the deal you made out of desperation, giving him one chance to fuck you so he’d stop begging you for it. “would it kill you to act like you like me?”

the way his voice cracks almost makes you feel bad for him, pulling his mouth from your chest with a kiddish pout. he looks .. pretty. lips wet and swollen from his sloppy, unskilled kisses to your chest, red cheeks and unfocused gaze like he’s already fucked you. arousal swirls in your stomach at the thought of what he’ll look like when he’s actually fucking you, how ruined he’ll look once he’s done.

“yangyang..” you sigh quietly, trailing your eyes down his pale chest to where his cock rests heavy on your cunt. you’re all too aware of the weight of him, your hips involuntarily bucking up in your sudden impatience.

“wha- oh..” he grinds his hips down experimentally, inching his length through your lips that are gathering slick, soft wet noises sounding out in your room. his cheeks flush even redder, tongue darting out to moisten his lips. “does that feel good?”

“mhm” you hum, now rocking your hips steadily, dragging your slit up and down the underside of his shaft. he’s big, your little movements inching across maybe a third of his length.

“fuck, uh” he blinks himself out of his daze, “are you ready? want me to put it, uh, in you?”

“you can do whatever you want, remember?”

he wipes his wet mouth with the back of his hand and wraps his shaky fingers around his cock, prodding the tip at your entrance and shuddering at your warmth. a drawn out sigh leaves his chest as he pushes into you, tight hole stretching perfectly around him. “you take it so well” he muses. his head hangs over you, his hair hanging over his furrowed brows and bottom lip tucked between his teeth, looking so focused — frustrated almost. you know he’s holding back, in genuine surprise of how tightly you wrap around him.

you’ve never seen him so focused, so quiet. the thought makes you laugh softly, a quick breath passing through your lips, yangyang so close to you he can feel brush over his upper lip. “you don't have to laugh at me” he mumbles, looking more frustrated.

“m'not- ah!” in his frustration he thrusts into you harder, your hands finding his shoulders, nails digging deep into his skin. it's the first, maybe the only time you've put your hands on him, and the sting of your nails feels like heat, fire spreading though his chest and down his arms. when you look up at him his eyes are already on you, slack jawed and starry eyed.

“you're even prettier like this”

you swallow, throat dry, “yeah?”

“yeah” he sighs, continuing his thrusts, slower this time but just as deep, “i thought about fucking you all the time. thought about how pretty you'd look when you take it.. didn't think anyone could look so pretty”

and you let him cum in your mouth when he asks if he can, abiding by the strange new desire to give him whatever he wants. and even though the deal you made ends there, with yangyang kneeling over you, chest heaving with heavy breaths as he empties into your throat, you keep your lips wrapped around him, letting him ride out his high with slow thrusts over your tongue. and you think of all the other things you'd let him do when he finally pulls away, his shaky hands finding both side of your face as he hunches over, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss.

#took a draft from 3 months ago and wrote .. this #yangyang #liu yangyang #wayv #nct #yangyang drabble #yangyang x you #yangyang x reader #yangyang smut #wayv drabbles #nct drabbles #wayv smut #nct smut #wayv hard thoughts #wayv hard hours #nct hard thoughts #nct hard hours #mine

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laughhardrunfastbekindsblog · 2 days

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Evolution of Echo and Omega's Hugs

*I posted similar thoughts on Reddit before but wanted to write a bit more about it since I can't stop thinking about it

I get the impression Echo isn't much of a hugger - never has been, and not just because "he's a soldier" but because it's just not really his thing. Like, he doesn't mind hugs, but he rarely offers them so he also never gets hugs, and since he never expects them anyway, that's fine with him. (It's also possible the experimentation on Skako Minor and the prosthetics/cybernetics he now lives with make him more awkward with physical affection, but I don't think he really did hugs before then, either.)

So seeing how Echo's reaction to Omega's hugs has changed over time makes my heart melt 🫠

Hug #1

Echo has announced his departure from the squad, and even though he's not planning on being gone forever - he just feels called to do more to help the other clones - this is still a goodbye. Omega, holding back tears, hugs him - and Echo definitely wasn't expecting this, so it takes him some time to figure out how to respond.

Hug #2

Echo has been gone for a bit, and this is the first time he's meeting back up with the squad since his departure. He can see a hug is imminent, and so he kinda shyly/awkwardly opens his arms in readiness... Nope, he was not prepared for Omega's level of sheer enthusiasm, but hey, this is nice.

Hug #3

This is the first time Echo and Omega have seen each other in months, since Omega was captured and subsequently escaped. There is absolutely no hesitation on Echo's part now: as he and Omega approach each other, he is already getting down to his sister's level, arms wide open, and they simultaneously hug each other.

Echo's face is slightly obscured by the hug, but he looks SO RELIEVED and happy that Omega is back!

Echo still might not be much of a hugger in general (he and Hunter still do their standard brother/soldier handshake to greet each other, for example), but when it comes to his little sister, he is all in on the hugs now❤️🥹🥰

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #star wars #star wars the bad batch #tbb season 3 #tbb echo #tbb omega #love the hugs #i would watch an entire episode of the bad batch just hugging each other #heart melting #i just love them all so much!!!#yep echo is my fave (tied with tech)

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syrupfog · 3 days

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Sanji doesn’t understand the point of humans, really. He knows that people love them, but… they’re just so FRAGILE. They break easily, hard to repair, and once their systems have stopped circulating, they just don’t turn back on. He doesn’t get the appeal.

He knows, has been informed, that he was born human. But it’s a ship of Theseus situation. He’s been long ago upgraded, doesn’t have those weaknesses he was born with.

Hell, his siblings were incredibly powered up, for humans, and they were still easily disposed of.

Logically, loving a human just doesn’t make sense. They’re not REAL the way androids are real. Their consciousness doesn’t exist as soon as they’re powered down. There’s a liminal nothingness to that. Humans are like toys. Like starter beings.

He’s had all of those thoughts hundreds of times before, as he’s watched humans die in front of him. Watched his siblings as they perished by his own hand. This has been his Truth his whole life. Humans aren’t worth thinking about because they’re just not really REAL.

And of course, that’s why he’s questioning his own actions now.

THIS human he’s seen around a few times, having washed up in a dingy little rowboat at the edge of town, telling the people something about how he’s been separated from his crew.

This human who has been working hard, exchanging manual labor for food while sleeping rough and making time to train with his ridiculous swords. Those are a weakness, at least consider guns, or fortified steel legs.

But this human, who’s been so confident he’ll be reunited with his crew, who’s been biding his time and training… Sanji had taken an interest in him.

And then Sanji had watched him die. A freak accident with machinery he’d been tasked to repair in exchange for a meal.

Everyone in town knows of Sanji. And he knows they know, knows they think he’s a little alarming. But that’s fine. They’re human.

However they perceive him, though, they don’t object when he swoops in and lifts up the green haired human, taking him away.

It’s not like he’s useful to them anyway anymore, he’s turned off and humans don’t turn back on.

But Sanji… wants this one to.

It’s ridiculous and maybe Sanji should upgrade his logic processing, but… he’s drawn to this one. Wants it back online.

His father had been a monster of a man, and the only one Sanji had taken true pleasure in turning off. But he’d kept his father’s workshops in working order to do his own repairs as necessary, and that comes in useful now. Sanji only knows living bodies for their food purposes.

He works and studies and experiments. He takes out his nightly recharging batteries and instead gets out his old charging cord so he doesn’t have to take breaks. He knows humans are quick to recycle after being turned off, even with the best precautions taken.

He doesn’t know why, but… he wants this. He’s drawn to the man. There’s an energy about him that Sanji doesn’t remember ever seeing before, and he wants it back.

And after an intense amount of repairs and replacements and experimental flesh-and-metal welding…

He flips the switch.

The man groans.

He lifts a hand slowly to his face, squinting his eye at the light. Sanji hadn’t been able to save both of them.

He sits up, blinking as he looks around.

“Wh’ th’ fuck happened?” He mumbles.

“Hi,” says Sanji. “I’m Sanji. Your systems failed and turned off. I turned them back on.”

The man looks down at himself. Sanji thinks he’s done a good job matching the spray paint to his skin tone.

“Swords?” The man asks.

“In the other room,” Sanji says. “I wanted to check you were fully online before returning your things to you.”

“Is that why I’m butt-ass naked?” The man asks, then shakes his head. “Whatever. Am I being held? Can I go?”

Sanji blinks. “Of course you can go,” he says.

“But please let me feed you, first. Humans need sustenance.”

The man frowns. “You not human or something?” He asks. “You don’t look like a fishman or mink.”

“I’m an android,” says Sanji.

“Well that’s a fucking note,” says the man. “I’m Zoro. Thanks for… fixing me, I guess.”

Sanji smiles. “I will take you to your clothes and then food,” he says. “There has been rumor your ‘crew’ as you called them is here, although I have not validated these claims. I have been busy.”

Zoro grins, swinging his legs over the table and standing.

“Perfect,” he says. “I gotta get going, then.”

Sandi frowns. “Wait,” he says. “You’re still newly upgraded. There might be bugs!”

Sanji HATES bugs.

“I’m fine,” Zoro says, then promptly stumbles.

“Like that!” Sanji screeches. He’s had years, decades to work on his own tech.

“You need to be stress tested properly!”

Zoro pinches the bridge of his nose and there’s the sound of metal groaning under his fingers. “Fine,” he says. “Then I guess you’re coming with me.”

“Pardon?” asks Sanji.

“Listen, Swirly,” Zoro says. “I have places to be and a future pirate king to serve. I don’t have time to be waiting around for hardware to fail so either you’re coming with me or I’m handing my doctor a computer repair manual.”

Sanji groans. “…Fine,” he says. “I will feed you and then I will pack up. It will take two hours.”

“You have until Luffy shows up,” Zoro says. Then amends, “You have until Luffy has eaten everything in your kitchen.”

Sanji doesn’t know this ‘Luffy’ but he takes that into his calculations. “Acceptable,” he says. “Let’s be off, then.”

And thus, the Straw Hats gain their cook, as Sanji makes it his life mission to keep his collection of humans as safe as possible. They’re so fragile, they break so easily.

Although these ones do seem hardier than most.

#zosan #my writing

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airgiodslv · 2 days

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how about something inspired by the wing outfit? for @arewedoneyet

It's nearly sunset when the man in the military uniform comes down from the house.

You think later that he's been watching you for a while. Longer than a day, even. He stops beneath your tree and puts his hands on his hips, looking up at where you perch in the high branches.

"You're one of his," he says. "Sunshine's. I can tell."

"How?" you ask. You're curious about everything. Your voice is a hoarse croak you can't remember hearing before.

His smile is grim. "Because Sunshine likes to play god, but he isn’t one. Everything he creates comes back a little bit wrong."

You bristle and hunch your back, so your feathers puff up to make you look larger.

"Has he named you yet?" he asks. You don't reply, afraid of your own rough voice. He smiles again and says, "Then I'll call you Icarus."

There’s a boy sleeping under a tree near yours. You call down to him a few times, but he doesn’t wake. There are cuts on his hands and face. They’re the only parts of him that are still exposed. Flowers and vines have covered the rest of him.

You hope he’s only asleep.

You’ve been watching the distant house with interest. A truck came to make a delivery. There was a wooden box inside like a coffin.

The man in the uniform comes back after a few days. When he reaches the sleeping boy’s tree, you shout a warning.

He shakes his head and stands under your tree to look up at you again. “I’m not going to hurt him. He’s one of Rain’s, and I don’t have any quarrel with Rain. My fight is with Sunshine.”

“Why?” you rasp.

“I believe in science and progress. Sometimes that means experimentation, but not the way Sunshine does it. Sometimes it means war.”

He looks back at the house, or maybe at the barn, where the men in the truck took the coffin.

“I have to go. I have a shuttle to catch. Up there, to the stars.” He points toward the sky, then offers you a mocking salute. “I’ll see you when you learn to fly, Icarus.”

There’s another man at the house now. He’s warm and brown from the sun. He comes out sometimes to chop wood and ride down the dirt road. Dust rises up in clouds behind his horse, like the plumes of steam you saw on the horizon when the rocket launched.

He plants seeds for crops and new trees. He kneels by the sleeping boy’s tree to plant new flowers around him. The sleeping boy still hasn’t woken. You can barely see him now, hidden behind the blooms.

In the early morning, you’re woken from a doze by an impact that jars you all the way to your bones. The man stands at the trunk of your tree. He yanks his axe out of the wood and hefts it to swing again.

You scream at him, rough and panicked. He startles, gripping the axe in both hands and taking a step back. When he sees you restlessly shifting your weight and rustling the leaves, he relaxes.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there. My wife asked me to cut down this tree for firewood. She must not have known you were here.”

You’ve seen the curtains move upstairs in the house. You’ve felt eyes watching you, just as you watch the house.

You think she knew you were here.

There’s been a long drought, but clouds finally gather, rolling in from where you saw the rocket launch. The sky opens and rain pours down.

You shake out your feathers and hunch under the canopy to wait out the storm. It rains into the night, drenching you and the trees alike, all the way until dawn.

When the sun rises and the sky clears, the sleeping boy under the tree is gone.

A man with shining hair and bright, dark eyes dances through the moonlight to your tree. His movements are graceful one moment and disjointed the next, skipping and spinning between the trees until he faces you with a wide smile.

“Come down, come down,” he croons. His fingers curl slowly in the air, beckoning. “Have you learned to fly yet, little bird?”

It’s the first time you’ve left the tree. You descend, clumsily at first, gaining confidence by the time your feet touch the ground. You tuck your head to preen.

“Have you met him?” he asks. “Does he know everything you are?”

“He called me Icarus,” you say.

Sunshine laughs and reaches out for you with both hands. He cups your face to gaze at you. His lips are cool when he tastes you. His tongue curls the way his fingers had, teasing.

“We’ll see about that,” he sings. “We’ll see who falls from the sky: his planes and shuttles and war machines, or you. We’ll see who flies.”

The men come again with the truck. They take away the man who plants seeds. He fights them, but not well. He moves like you do, like Sunshine had, tentative and newborn.

There are no more new trees, no more flowers. The house is very quiet.

“Why?” you growl when the man in the uniform finally returns. You have too many questions to fit them into more than that one word.

He gazes up at you for a long time before answering. “Because the experiment was over. Because two of you in one place are dangerous. Because it was time.”

There’s a glass with brown liquid in the man’s hand. He takes a long drink. You don’t think it was his first one.

“Because Sunshine made you for a reason,” he says finally. “And I believe it was to destroy me.”

#writing #ficlet #jeffcest #jeff satur cinematic universe #howl's moving castle au #if you squint

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soleilnomoon · 2 years

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Hello!

I see that's a Zoro thirst era so here I am 🥴

Can I request a headcanon of him, Law and Ace? (separately) About how they would react to a small sized reader?? With like the cute moments and the feisty ones 👀

Lol from when I was little and still to this day I always was the "little" "cute" "short" friend that when cusses everybody goes like "OOOH! 😲" and I'm like Bruuuh!!!

Lol I hope someone can relate to this!😭

Could you make it a fem!reader?

Thank you in advance if you happen to accept the ask!

I really would like to know if this is also your situation or if you have friends like me! 🤣 (If you don't mind of course!)

i’m glad the zoro thirst train is still going strong lmao i love those three (obvy) — i’m actually 5’2”! i know that short life very well, no one takes you seriously until you snap ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ also since everyone around me has more or less been taller than me, it feels like a conspiracy. anyway, this came out longer than expected (i feel like i always say this lol) but i had fun <3

2.1k words, (short) fem reader, fluff, a tiny hint of angst, and a splash of nsfw stuff (hand job, public sex, spanking, yk cute stuff like that).

the day you meet, he doesn’t take well to your presence at all; franky says he’s being too serious, and jinbe agrees, sanji doubling-down right after and reiterating what the first two say. it irks him, . you earn your spot; while you might not have the same physical capabilities of some of the others, no one can take away your tenacity. it’s a quality that luffy admires; he explicitly says as much, in front of everyone, that he wants to bring you into his group. make you one of them—and his decision is always final.

eventually, you grow on him; he fights it tooth and nail, sometimes making you feel like you’re permanently going to be on his shit list. it’s a ruse, fortunately; he can’t quite make himself admit it, either. someone so small, so seemingly innocent—cute; even though zoro will never openly say that—so easily likable, everything about you intrigues him. it’s when you get into a silly argument with usopp and luffy, with a lot of misunderstanding—using words incorrectly (luffy, alone, is guilty), and before long, no one even remembers the original point of the argument. then zoro laughs out loud. the sound startles you; you’ve never seen him laugh that hard, his eye closing as he doubles over, and because of this, everyone else laughs too.

for some reason, the seamless way he was able to cut the tension, it warms you significantly. and it’s after that moment, that you become inseparable. you’re curious about his training and he doesn’t think when he says he can help build your endurance—enhancing your stamina will only make your crew that much stronger, he decides. through all of the sweat, the accidental tears, and the oppressive workout regimen, you learn more about his real ambition and he learns that you’re not just a cute, short, helpless person. you’ve got more bite than people realize. and he likes it.

and on a night where the sky is clear, you collectively decide to have a feast—to celebrate life, to mourn over fallen allies, to simply exist together. the music and laughter are loud enough to snuff out any extraneous sounds—but, this doesn’t mean you won’t try to keep quiet. after drifting away from your crewmates, drunk off of the party’s atmosphere, you end up on the balcony talking and joking with zoro. and maybe it’s because your presence is calming, or that you smell like warm vanilla, a hint of coconut, but he pulls you closer and kisses you. your lips part, his mouth devouring yours hotly, tongue thrusting inside recklessly. it leaves very little room for you to breathe, or for your brain to stop melting. when you do finally pull apart, you pant softly, hands shaking as they land on his chest; he has a knowing smile on his face, and even though your face flushes terribly, you can’t wait to kiss him again.

he finds it impossibly inefficient of you to be this short; he likes to remind you of it whenever he can, evoking your wrath, eyes narrowed in anger. it’s appropriately adorable, which further proves his point that it is impossibly inefficient for you to be this short. everything is much too high for you to reach—you stomp your foot repeatedly when they take their time to help you. and even though law sternly told you not to try and climb things, you do it anyway. the first time he catches you, you nearly fall—your knee slips on the counter. if he hadn’t been close by, you would’ve hit your head pretty hard. as the ship’s captain, he finds it irresponsible of you; and as the ship’s surgeon, he thinks you should be placed in a small bubble where you can remain unharmed.

the second time he catches you, an unstoppable impulse shoots through him. taking long strides, he reaches you quickly; he plucks you off of the counter and unceremoniously tosses you over his shoulder. your mouth falls open in protest, face burning with embarrassment—you snap and tell him that you can walk your own damn self to whichever secluded area he wants to lecture you in. and, try as he might, law keeps his composure, until he just can’t anymore. you think you have the upper hand now, want to taunt him about it, but then his hand makes contact with your ass—giving it a nice, firm slap.

you lose your train of thought, stumble over your words, and grab the back of his jacket. a soft moan comes out of your mouth and before you do anything else that’s shameful, you clamp your lips shut. it’s amusing to him, you trying to have some restraint—but he knows better. you’re defiant, fearless, and a pain in his ass; but somehow you’ve tethered yourself to him, anchoring his heart, a calm he’s never really experienced before.

he finds this all annoying, and yet he can’t stay away from you.

bepo’s already gotten on him about how he’s much more strict with you than he is with the others. barely blinking, he simply shrugs it all off, not needing or wanting to explain himself to his friend. besides, he hardly understands any of this himself. law refuses to acknowledge that he has feelings for you, because giving it a name will veer him off course. he can’t afford to let that happen.

still, he takes you to his office as you try to regain your logic; as he locks the door behind him, his hold tightens around you before he perches you on top of his desk. staring up at your captain, you eye him sharply, hating how much you want him to spank you again—and doubly hating how your thighs keep rubbing together. your expression is priceless; a smirk makes its way onto his lips, as he rolls up his sleeves.

“don’t move,” he instructs, his eyes darkening, keeping you rooted in the same spot. you sit there, holding in a breath, trying to figure out if this is a very long dream, or if it’s actually happening to you. after taking off his hat, law grabs his desk chair and sits right in front of you. there’s a charged energy in the air around you; it has you sinking your nails into the palms of your hands, leaving behind angry crescent moon shapes behind. he settles into the chair comfortably, brushing his thumb against his lower lip before saying, “take it off.”

the command propels you in action, you clumsily peel your clothes off, pausing only once you’re in your bra and panties. he fixes you with a hard look, fingers twitching slightly. “all of it.” his gaze unnerves you, makes an ache grow within you, your thighs rubbing against one another as he raises a brow at you. without thinking about it too much, you unhook your bra and toss it onto the floor. he watches you carefully, almost obsessively, afraid that if he blinks he’ll miss something crucial. you hastily tug your panties off, goosebumps traveling along your skin. you’re very aware of how law is watching you and when you finally spread your legs, he admires the way your arousal drips from your pussy, slow like honey, his cock hard and painfully trapped behind his jeans. he has every intention of showing you just what happens when you defy orders from him, and you know in the back of your mind that you’ll do it again just to push him to his breaking point, hoping he’ll fuck the bratty attitude out of you.

because he’s much taller than you, he runs into you; a lot. so much that you ask him one day if he’s doing it on purpose. now, ace, being impossibly ace, will never willingly admit that he watches you more than he should; he will also never admit to liking the height difference between you two. he watches you struggle to reach things, laughs at the way your crew mates tease you endlessly about needing to grow an inch or three, and sees your temper shoot venom every time the jokes go a little too far.

after docking on a small island, you explore around, hoping to burn off some of your anger. the large ship is an impressive beast as it drifts in the water, acting as a landmark for you to return back to once you’re done. a few of your crew mates offer to explore with you, but you wave them off, seemingly annoyed with everyone, not wanting to lash out more than necessary if you can help it. you get turned around and end up in a clearing, the sound of water enticing you to get closer. because you’re so focused on the beauty in the fauna in the forest, you never hear him walk up behind you.

he wraps his arms around you, affectionate and demanding. and even though you know it’s him, you let out a distressed shriek anyway. he grins behind you, laughing at your theatrics, spinning you around until you start laughing too. “i hate you.” it’s not even remotely true; you doubt you could ever hate him, no matter what, but he doesn’t need to know that, does he?

ace doesn’t believe you, even says that as he drags his lips along the side of your neck, smiling playfully against your skin; you inhale sharply, fingers grabbing his forearm desperately, your stubbornness crumbling when he starts leaving kisses behind. your skin burns; each kiss eviscerating the remnants of your anger. you whimper softly before turning around in his arms, eyelids half closed, your arousal getting the better of you; he’s not much better, his cock stiff and bothersome, begging him to do something. a groan slips out of his mouth when your hand tugs on the waistband of his shorts, deftly unbuttoning them and freeing his cock after sliding the zipper down.

you’re not sure what possesses you, but you just want to touch him repeatedly—maybe get it out of your system so you can carry on with your afternoon. you know, deep down, that that won’t exactly do the trick, but you want to try anyway. his mouth finds yours, giving you messy tongue kisses as your hand wraps around his cock and strokes it slowly. you might actually be the death of him one of these days; the pace is agonizing and even as his hips jerk forward, you won’t give him what he wants. yet. he sucks on your tongue and all of your restraint dissipates.

your thumb rubs around the thick head, precum dripping out of his tip, and onto your hand. he’d be embarrassed if he hadn’t dreamt of having you like this — and in other ways, too — but when your hand tugs faster, his moans get louder, throatier, more desperate. he brings a hand to halt your movements and he pulls you to a nearby tree; when step out of your panties and hike up your skirt, he picks you up, using the tree trunk to hold you steady. when you wrap your legs around him, the length of his cock glides in between the folds of your pussy, pulling soft, pleading moans from you until you tug on his hair roughly.

he only chuckles at your ferocity, angles the tip of his cock with your needy entrance, and slides inside of you, pausing so that you can adjust before sliding in deeper. your nails sink into his shoulders, breath warm against his chest, his hips rocking against yours slowly as you call out his name. he never knew how much he needed to hear you come apart like this until now; his fantasy is dull in comparison; you’re so much more vibrant than his dreams portray. still, his hands are all over you all the same. you don’t even remember why you were so pissed in the first place, instead ace and his disrespectful mouth have temporarily muddled your memories. and you know that you should probably keep your voice down, but with each thrust, ace drags out sounds you didn’t know you were capable of making.

as you lose yourself in him, his strokes get shorter, faster, terrifyingly addictive; he pounds into your pussy mercilessly, loving the way you clench around him whenever he hits a certain spot. he whispers filthy promises in your ear, your cheeks flush deeply, but you’re too preoccupied with the way he’s fucking you to care. the roughness of the tree bark digs into your skin, but you don’t care—you really, truly don’t. all that matters is this; you, ace, this sliver of time together, since there’s barely any privacy on your ship to begin with. you kiss him senselessly, lips swollen, the noises that your pussy makes as his cock slams inside of you turns you on so much that you almost don’t want it to end. so you whisper against his lips—tell him to keep on going and he fulfills that request until your voice is too hoarse for you to say anything, with tears staining your cheeks as you can hardly stand on your own without his help.

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crow-cap · 2 months

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#idk. thinking about zoro being Hatted and what circumstances would need to arise before that could happen #this isn’t finished it’s not that polished I just threw some filters at it and now I’m running away #but the CONCEPT. man I will probably draw more like this #so many ideas. so little time #started reading one piece a month (??) ago and I’ve barely made a dent in it #SO LITTLE TIME #I will become so powerful this summer after exams are over #zolu #(?)#op #one piece #monkey d luffy #crowcraft #zoro #roronoa zoro #luffy #the colours on this one are a bit dark but it was more experimental than anything #I tried out some screen tone brushes and a heavier ink one that I used to use #and the colours aren’t as weird as I usually go for #it was an experiment! these guys are rapidly becoming my new test subjects for drawing ideas #I don’t have a caption for this. I might just leave it blank #does zoro ever get the hat put on him?? I don’t think so but I also know jack diddly about later one piece lore #REGARDLESS #ok bye bye

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ikanebula · 2 months

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Will you be my Valentine (from Guilty Gear 2 -OVERTURE- for the Xbox 360 and Microsoft Windows)?

#valentines day #valentine #valentine guilty gear #guilty gear #guilty gear 2 overture #art #ikanebula art #i tried to be a little bit experimental with this one #second valentines post!? more than likely than u think ...#i just really like valentine.... why does no one draw her </3

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parisoonic · 1 year

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hey there, just wanted to say that I absolutely adore you're art style, such yummy shape it scratches my brain just right 10/10

also I'm in love with how you portray the start of heavy and medics relationship, like how they bicker and get on each others nerves a tiny bit,

I wanted to ask you what was the turning point from that to them kissing in the moonlight and whatnot

(sorry if this feels out of the blue I'm just really invested in the way you characterize them and I think your art is really cool)

heya! no worries (and thank you for your kind words!) - this ask got me really excited as ive had a few ideas rocking around for a bit...depending on the day of the week i'll give you a different answer as to 'how' but the general gist is collegues who are bad at their jobs -> collegues who are GREAT at their jobs -> out of hours friends -> inseperable -> taking a chance on 'ruining' that friendship -> it all works out.

I tried to answer through a little bit of a comic...this is literally the 0th draft...needs an extra page or two and a few more drawings (and then overall....redrawing) but i need to post as otherwise i won't get any work done. I'll finish it one day! but enjoy! :)

#tf2 medic #tf2 heavy #heavymedic #red oktoberfest #tf2 #tf2 fanart #team fortress 2 #ugh is that one page gonna get me banned from tumblr or something #i need like another page of heavy getting medic killed repeatedly on the field in the beginning #as heavy pockets are liable to do #and then them hanging out a little more and becoming unlikely bffs #just imagine some light experimental surgery #bbq parties and punching all the blood out of scout together #lore to my own images is so lame but i did think about this when i was drawing it :')

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lovelaceisntdead · 4 months

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Here is the book I said I would post, my first attempt at a dos a dos binding. Considering I was mostly winging this, I'm pretty pleased with how it's turned out. One side is lined notebook paper and the other is sketchbook paper.

I also got a hot foiling pen for Christmas and thought I'd see how it works on bookcloth for this bind and it worked pretty well, just have to see how it holds up over time.

#first bind of 2024! even though i started it last year #i think this really shows how much my skills have grown #i maybe wasn't as meticulous with this bind as i might usually be considering it was mostly experimental #but it still looks really clean!#my spines are a little bit wonky but that often happens when i leave too much bulk from sewing the headbands #anyway. feels nice to have this done especially after feeling so shit recently.#please ignore the cat hair this bookcloth is like a magnet for dust and such #bookbinding #dos a dos binding

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villainihavedonethymotheronao3 · 1 month

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Obviously, DnD characters are wish fulfillment and lots of people don’t want to address the slow senescence of the vulnerable human form in their fun games. That being said, narratively, I do think that levels should probably fluctuate over the course of a lifetime. The level twenty world-saver is going not going to stay level twenty into their old age—that’s not how athletes and retirement work! Wisdom and Charisma casters maybe, but your STR/CON/DEX builds are going to soften with age. They might still be the spryest bastards in the old people tai chi group, but “terrifyingly in shape 70 year old” is not the same as “deadliest man on the planet”. Drop those old folks a few levels, give them some creaky bones and presbyopia. It’s good for them, promise.

#slamming a stick into the ground like the pope ‘MORE WIZARDS WITH MINOR COGNITIVE DECLINE’#old washed up bards and barbarians who had to get a hip replaced #the only classes that are probably immune to it are druids and clerics #based solely on the power of very old gardeners and priests #they’re probably good until they start losing 3x oriented #but even monks I I think have the right to take an arrow to the knee #the other aspect of this is differing lifespans which mean that when parties do get back together for a reunion tour #there are incentives to keep them apace with their peers #and the format of dnd means that the only other time most people see their old characters is in little cameos when friends gm #and no one wants to nerf their friend’s baby #but with in the era of more experimental actual play and game design #I think we can move past these hang ups and give the people what they deserve #old rogues with arthritis who are still really good but won’t stop complaining about their glory days

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sherbetyy · 6 months

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kitty stop!!! he’s trying to watch his show.. you are sentenced to HAIR JAIL!!!!!

based off this post

#THE EYES IN HIS HAIR ARE PINS BTW!! :3 #thought it’d be a fun idea. (he also has a crazy amount of hair i’m sorry about that)#ALSO MTSODIE DREW THIS WITH REAL RED GUY GO LOOK AT IT!!!#anyway anyway…#this is a little bit experimental. for both his design and this shading/lighting thing going on #very messy i like it and i think i’m proud. good job bug..#dhmis #my art #don’t hug me i’m scared #red guy #dhmis human #dhmis humanized #red guy human #YAY!!!!!!

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sonicunleash · 2 years

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i may be cringe but i am FREE. look at my funny horses

#sonic #sth #sonic the hedgehog #shadow the hedgehog #mlp #silver the hedgehog #miles tails prower #rouge the bat #amy rose #blaze the cat #sonic au #I might make colored refs for the others but its sonic and shadow that i actually already had pretty solid designs for so #they were a lot easier to finalize #ANYWAYS. LOOK AT MY HORSES BOY #i think shadows deal would translate in pony verse to being like. a fake experimental alicorn. like #i mean he is an alicorn but like he wasn't made by any of the princesses and he isnt a princess. and hes also a little fucked up #also i imagine instead of alien dna its probably something more akin to dragons #'what ponies are going around making an test tube alicorn #fuck if i know.#Really wanna finalize blaze and silver sometime actually their sketches look so cool- FUCK I NEVER DOODLED KNUCKLES. NEXT TIME #also look at little dragon tails. cherish him #edit: POSTED THIS TO THE WRONG BLOG. IF YOU WANT TO FOLLOW ME FOR ART #U SHOULD PROBABLY FOLLOW ME AT CHAOSSPEAR

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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 4 months

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another snippet! my first Flight Rising one, featuring my darling couriers Honey and Grace having a chill time <3

If he had to choose his least favorite place in Sornieth, Honey wouldn’t hesitate to name the Southern Icefield. More specifically, port Hillberg.

The ramshackle town nests at the base of the Cloudscrape Crags, near where the continent starts to break apart into the Floes. It’s large, but shabby - tarp and rope holds together half of the buildings. Honey suspects that the residents simply couldn’t be bothered to rebuild time and time again. Sparse vegetation dots the steep landscape, if it could be called one. The dragons who have made Hillberg their home are just as blunt and harsh as the environment.

None of these things are strangers to Honey. Perpetual bad moods and subpar architecture aren’t what makes him dread every delivery to the region.

No, no… it’s the wind.

The constant, inescapable, Shade-cursed wind.

It isn’t that Honey doesn’t like wind - oh, he does. He hails from the Windswept Plateau, and spent his happiest years tumbling through gusts and zephyrs. His blood sings in the air.

Hillberg’s wind, though, is an utter nightmare.

At best, it’s a frigid breeze that even a tundra can feel through their thick coat. At worst, it’s a howling force barreling down from the Crag’s peaks, tearing through Hillberg with a vengeance. It carries biting flurries of ice and sleet with it, leaving a trail of frost and unfortunate frozen creatures in its wake. Everything not bolted down is lost in moments. Hillberg is lashed together and fixed to the earth to withstand the daily barrage.

It’s so terrible that ropes line the streets for dragons to cling to so as to not be blown away in the gales. Wings are bound, claws are left long for purchase. Hillberg’s larger inhabitants have an easier time of it, but they’re few in numbers. The majority of residents are too small to withstand the greatest winds.

This horrible natural force even has a name - the Crag’s Breath.

Honey wouldn’t give it such a tame title. It’s a roar, a howl, a bellow. It rivals the Crescendo’s outer winds.

Luckily, he doesn’t have to put up with the Breath’s ordeal all that often. Hillberg doesn’t get many deliveries, and Honey isn’t the only courier available on this route. More often than not Honey gets months between trips here - sometimes he gets even luckier when the Breath isn’t howling during his brief stop.

That luck isn’t holding this time around.

Honey untenses one of his talons to flex feeling back into his claws. It’s a useless endeavor, of course. It serves him right for not wearing full gloves. He shivers and puts his talon back down, curling his claws into the frozen divots they’ve carved. A gust hits him from the side, and he clenches his leg muscles to keep from staggering.

The wide, desolate landing zone offers no comfort. The frozen ground yields no natural protection from the freezing wind, and the setting sun gives no relief. The gales yank at his apparel, his tail, his tightly folded wings. Honey doesn’t dare imagine what would happen if he opened them.

It’s cold. So devastatingly cold. The chill cuts right to Honey’s bones, and he’s certain that he’ll never be warm again.

During times like these he curses his lifestyle. Being constantly on the wing keeps him fit and light. Not enough fat lingers in his muscles to provide insulation, and his lithe form struggles to withstand the wind. He rarely meets a dragon larger than himself, yet right now he feels no bigger than a fae.

Honey huffs through his nose and glares across the icy field at the lights in the distance. The debris from the Breath and the shadows deepened by the waning sunset cast Hillberg into a darkening haze. Soon all that will be left of it in Honey’s sight are the lights. Those too will vanish as everyone hunkers down to wait out the brewing storm.

At least the wind doesn’t allow ice and snow to melt on him. The only thing worse than being in the Breath is being in it while wet.

If only his welcomers would hurry. In Honey’s opinion, the protocol Hillberg has for arrivals - especially inter-regional ones - is absurd. Honey always has to wait an hour or more before they lead him into town, and more importantly, shelter. He wouldn’t mind it if the Breath wasn’t active, but at this rate he really will freeze in place. At least Hillberg would have a shiny new statue for their proverbial doorstep.

In truth, though, Honey is being dramatic. Even if he was forced to wait all night, he’d survive. It would be long and miserable, but he would make it to sunrise. It isn’t him that he’s worried about.

It’s his assistant, Grace.

Honey crouches lower and cranes his neck to try and peer into his scarf. His slush-smeared goggles blur everything into indistinct shapes and monochrome colors. He shoves his nose into the scarf and snuffles - he can smell her, he thinks, but she hasn’t moved in some time.

“Grace,” he grunts. The wind snatches his words away, and he says louder, “Grace!”

Tiny talons push his snout, and he pulls back. Grace peeks out from the navy folds to peer up at him. Getting a read on her expression is impossible - the helmet and goggles betray nothing. Despite how sheltered she is, the wind still snags at her frills and presses them around her face.

“Hanging in there?” Honey yells.

Through the blur, she nods.

“Still warm?”

Grace makes a show of shrugging before burrowing back down. She squirms further down into the scarf to rest where Honey’s neck meets his chest. Hopefully both the scarf and the thick arctic coat provide enough insulation for her, along with her own matching apparel. Not enough of his own body heat will seep through - staying warm is up to her. Still, Honey wishes that he could tuck her into his jacket.

Honey shakes out his frosty mane and casts another look at the vanishing town. The guideropes staked into the ground leading there dance in the wind, empty.

Please, he thinks as a violent tremor wracks his body. He lifts a talon and immediately lurches forward - he slams his haunches down and angles against the wind. He rests the lifted talon over Grace. The faint press of her eases the knot in his ribs, though it won’t entirely untangle until they’re both out of the cold and warming by a fire.

It was a harsher trip than usual, getting here. Usually the route takes them along the Floes, where they can rest at established checkpoints along the way. But the first checkpoint had directed Honey to make one continuous arcing journey over the ocean to Hillberg. Why, he doesn’t know yet. There was some sort of issue.

What he does know is that he’s beyond exhausted. Flying for so long unbroken is well within his capabilities, but it isn’t fun. Not to mention that the transition into Hillberg airspace had nearly knocked Honey out of the sky. The battle to the landing field almost did him in - his limbs almost gave out upon landing. Only half of his current trembling comes from the weather.

As soon as they’re in the hanger, Honey is sure to collapse and sleep for hours. It will set back their schedule, but it’s a much needed rest. Especially so if they can’t take the Floes for the return trip.

Honey hunches his shoulders higher. At least his folded wings protect the courier satchels. It would be horrific if the straps broke or the clasps came undone. Dozens of letters, documents, and parcels all spilling out and whisking away into the sea… Honey’s next tremor isn’t so much of a shiver as it is a shudder. He might throw himself into the ocean after them if that happened.

Frantic tapping against his talon shakes him from his thoughts. Honey’s eyes snap open and focus on Grace, who’s frantically waving and pointing. He follows her gaze and relief soars in his ribcage.

A tundra slowly struggles towards them in the growing darkness. They’re big and burly for their breed, though that must be the uncountable pounds of fur covering their body. They remind Honey of the giant shaggy goats he sometimes sees while flying over the Icefield.

The tundra stops, gripping the thick rope with both claws as they angle themself into the wind so that they’re nearly sideways. Their fur billows around them. When Honey lifts his head, the tundra jerks their own towards Hillberg. They carefully turn around to make the return journey.

Thank the Windsinger.

Honey helps nudge Grace back down to safety, and they spend a moment making sure she’s secure. Once they start walking, Honey won’t be able to spare her a moment of attention - he’ll be too busy staying upright.

The Breath gusts under and around Honey as he stands, filling the new openings. He curses and stumbles. One talon slips on an icy patch, nearly sending him to the ground. In any other situation, Honey would be embarrassed about shuffling forward with his hindquarters still tucked. It must look ridiculous, but it’s the most stable position.

Honey moves as quickly as he can manage, though even that is still slower than he’d like. It only takes a few minutes to catch up with the tundra. They don’t seem to be struggling, which is expected of an experienced Hillberg resident. Still, it can’t be easy.

“Would you like assistance?” Honey yells over the howling wind. The tundra looks up at him, and he moves the wrist of his wing away from his body to open up a pocket the tundra could climb into.

They regard him for a moment through their own goggles, then at the long path ahead. They nod. Honey crouches as low as he can and angles his wing to create a buffer from the wind. The tundra lets go of the rope and flings themself at him, clinging to his thickly-padded shoulder. They clamber into the offered pocket and press up against his side, their fur frigid against the seam of his wing. Once they seem secure, Honey closes his wing tight and continues the trek.

Each stride gets slower, and Honey’s legs tremble more with every one. The lights grow brighter and streak across his goggles, incandescently blinding him. The path curves up as he heads to the mountain-carved bunker.

This isn’t the worst weather he’s withstood, Honey reminds himself. Yes, it’s freezing. No, he can’t feel his own body anymore. But when has that ever stopped him? He has deliveries to make, including two lives tucked against him.

The icy soil finally gives way to an equally cold stone plaza. Honey staggers across it to the huge door. Carved stone and wood arc into an overhang, jutting directly out of the foothills and offering very little relief from the Breath. The hanger is the only area entirely safe from the wind - something carved into the earth itself can’t be blown away.

Honey slams his shoulder against the thick heartwood door, tough as iron and sturdy as the Crag. He leans desperately against it, flagging fast.

Eternal seconds drag by.

Snowflakes gather in Honey’s exposed fur.

The sun’s final light fades from the horizon.

The door shudders, groans, and lifts. The horizontal slats fold into the roof, and Honey yearns for the firelight spilling from inside. Only a couple more steps, now. Only another minute or two.

Honey squeezes through as soon as the door lifts enough for clearance. He slips into a long, warm hallway ending with the glow of a roaring fireplace. The door slams back down behind him, nearly landing on his tail. The door locks into place.

The abrupt silence almost hurts. Honey blinks hard and tosses his head against the ringing in his ears. The crackling of embers is barely audible.

A tap against his side - ah, right. Honey uncurls his wing to let his passenger out, wincing at his frozen stiff muscles. The tundra jumps to the floor and shakes themself out. Ice crystals fly from their fur to shower the ground in glittering bits.

“Thank you,” the tundra says, her voice clear in the hall’s calm. When Honey inclines his head, she butts her head against his wing and inhales deeply before trotting down the hall. He hopes she remembers his scent as an ally.

“We’re in the clear,” Honey murmurs into his scarf as he pushes himself forward once more. Just a little further.

Grace clambers out of his scarf. She shakes herself before launching into the air, flitting in Honey’s blurry peripherals and performing complex acrobatics. That’s one way to warm herself.

Only part of the bunker’s warmth reaches Honey, and he still feels frozen. His apparel crunches with every step. The stone floor seems to burn under his talons, even though it’s surely cold. Grace perches on his unbroken antler as they enter the bunker proper.

There aren’t many dragons inside, shockingly enough. The tundra he already met is settling into cushions set up by the circular fireplace. Three more tundras lounge about, along with a ridgeback that looks Arcane, a young guardian brooding in the corner, a pearlcatcher who already seems set on ignoring him, and a few specks that may be faes or spirals. Perhaps both.

Not that any of this matters much to Honey. He only has eyes for the empty cushions surrounding the blazing hearth. He stumbles towards it even as his vision tunnels until only the bright firelight remains.

Just a little further.

A few more steps.

One more…

Honey is unconscious before he hits the ground.

#this one was vaguely experimental? very vaguely. no! Practice! dragon writing practice!#i just wanted to have some fr fun!#i do want to write more little snippets for my lair #especially penumbra...#snippets from the bog #flight rising #fr writing #honey and grace are fun to think about sometimes #theyre just flying around sornieth! delivering things and meeting dragons and seeing the sights #i feel like they'd have the Worst luck and would manage to be there for every big event #the ancients reawakening? there. the obelisks emerging? delivering messages from the site. Luminax? barely dodged that bullet. etc!#honey just wants to do his job man... cmon...

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