#<- that is if i actually have time to write for things outside of my dissertation

[indecisive-gm]

I actually used to have a friend who decided to get really into mneumonics to try to improve his memory. I remember that when talking about dnd or writing stories, there were plenty of cases where I (with no special memory tricks outside of possibly hyperfixation) would reminds him "ok, but what about [rule that we talked about a few days ago]? Would that be like what you're thinking of?", and he would be surprised, sometimes even refusing to believe that he had seen the rule before. Are there tricks to help you remember things better? Sure, but from my experience helping my friend through setting up his mneumonics tools, I can say that it takes a lot of extra time and effort for a slow result. Might be worth it if that's what you're looking for, but I'm just saying: He was much more serious about actually looking through the 5e rules than I was, and I still remembered better (he did do a good job at remembering various magic items and his campaign without notes, tho)

i'm still mad about that post thats like "humans USED to be able to memoriize long epic poems, but we no longer have Bards so our memories arent as good" boy shut the fuck up. a good chunk of people i went to high school with had the entirety of hamilton memorized for fun and they weren't even autistic.

[therobotmonster]

Saw some of your posts about AI recently, but don't really know very much about you. I have two questions:

1. Are you an actual artist, or do you just do genAI?

2. If you are an actual artist, why do you use/support AI?

We're going to get into this in a minute, but yes, by what you'd likely use as a definition of 'actual artist', I am. I have a BFA in graphic design, a minor in art history, I've been working as a freelance artist either on the side or as my main hustle since 2001, and I've been making art since I was five. Multimedia, 3d modelling and sculpting, photography (in a darkroom type and digital), acrylic painting, illustration, writing, puppetsmithing, I'm a jack of many, many trades.

Because it's a potent force multiplier that lets me do things that I could not previous (as well as helping compensate for my increasingly arthritic joints) and because it's entirely keeping with the copyleft principles I've had since the 1990s. It's just plain interesting and fun. And I had my fill of moral panics in the 1980s.

This is gonna be a long one, enjoy a song while you read.

I've gone over all this many times before, (for full reading, here's the #AI Discourse tag on my AI blog) but the short version is that I agree with the Electronic Frontier Foundation's position on AI art.

To demonstrate, we've got some of my non-AI photobash work, and some of my AI-work of the same type. Both were made using many, many public domain images broken down to B&W lines, scaled, reinked, normalized and colored.

On the left, is a comic made with specific panels from comics that have had their copyrights expire (back when that could happen), on the right, a comic made with about 35 individual dall-E 3 gens. The techniques are the same, the only difference is the source of the pubic domain images.

No one debates whether what I've done on the left is art, yet somehow the one on the right is a problem for some people. Yet I have vastly more control over the latter than the former.

And it's hard to get more transformative than 'broke down into math and blended with literally millions of other math formulas in order to make a completely new image" Replace 'math' with 'memory' and you have how all human creativity works.

Moving to covers, one of my parody deepdream-adjusted comics, and a reinked-recolored AI one on the right. The one on the left no one had a single problem with, but Bruce Wayne and Jessica Fletcher are screencaps, the Specter is a sales photo of a statue with a copy of 1989 Ted Dansen's face, and I'm using direct DC trade dress. Crickets.

On the right, no actual images by humans are used (outside the barcode, comics code authority emblem, and the 30 cent mark.) Same techniques, same situation. Very different reaction.

I also was a young artist in the 90s when Disney and the RIAA bribed and lied their way into extending copyright to its current ridiculous 120 year term, and I recognize what's happening with the anti-AI movement.

The exact same fear-mongering was used to get small artists to rally their congressmen against their own self-interest, and that's what the Copyright alliance is doing now.

Copyright does not help the small artist. It's also a relatively new invention, one that would be baffling to humans through most of history. You can't own art. Not even the people who make it. You can own a canvass or a carved rock or a book, but you don't own the art itself because you can't own feelings or ideas.

Copyright is a limited patent on specific expressions intended (supposedly) to encourage production, a limitation on the business use of art. The arguments levied against AI would kill fanfic, fanart, pastiche, collage, and more.

This isn't a bug, it's a feature, because...

The anti-AI side isn't actually anti-AI, they're pro-regulatory-capture-of-AI-by-Megacorporations. The copyright anti-AI argument conveniently leaves it open for Disney, Warner Bros, Nintendo, Sony, the RIAA, all to make their own AI systems to lower their production costs, because they own more than enough material to make powerful datasets.

They get it, you don't, worst of all possible worlds.

Now, at the start I mentioned that we'd get into the "actual artist" situation. All those people making bog standard waifu-pics with AI? They're also making art. Kids using a spirograph make art. Duchamp's fountain is art. And people who make art are artists.

But more than that "if you're an actual artist why do you use AI?" is an interesting question, because if more people actually used the tech and saw how it works, you'd see a lot less people against it. Most of the anti-AI talking points are just factually incorrect or greatly misrepresent the situation, but nobody is gonna learn that if even using it is treated as a transgress worthy of 'fair game' treatment.

Funny how that works out.

To close out, enjoy one of my music videos, made from dozens of clips made using reference images made with dozens of heavily modified gens that I totally could have made the hard way, except for the lack of 5 million dollars and access to Geena Davis and Ron Ely circa 1982:

[barleyo]

Frostbitten, Forbidden.

Hector Condicionado X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: another one shot with my favorite cretin. he's so lovely, i just want to eat him in one bite. hope you enjoy reading this!

Tags: dub-con, p in v, creampie, lots and lots and lots of dirty talk, sensory deprivation (eyesight)

Wordcount: 1.1k

Hector would do anything for you. He made it abundantly clear. From the moment you met him, or rather, from the moment he saw you, he knew he would make any sacrifice, any oblation, just to make you happy. No, he didn't want to make you happy—he wanted to keep you happy. A constant state of pleasure and contentment, all due to his own efforts. 

If you were tired, he would build you a bed frame with his bare hands. If you were bored, he would come up with a story to rival the telling of Shakespeare on the spot. Sad? Paw at his vent and tell him all about it. 

Fuck, he would slice his own palms and use the blood to write one of his novels for you if you wanted to do some light reading.

The only thing he couldn't do for you right now was turn up the heat. His only purpose, his one job, he simply couldn't do. Whether there was some sort of blockage in the air filters or a malfunctioning motor, nothing seemed to be working. 

Dead winter and not a single puff of air to ease your pain. 

It tore him up inside more than you would ever know, watching you toss and turn in bed, layering yourself in blankets that hardly helped. He tried for days to fix it himself. He borrowed tools from Tony, but hell if he knew what he was doing. Bang a wrench against the grate? Plead with the thermostat to co-operate? 

He felt like mold. Worse, actually. At least mold gave the world penicillin. What was he giving his beloved? Hypothermia? 

Your poor, freezing legs kicked under the thin covers in discomfort. He knew he had to do something, and he had an inkling of where his mind wanted to go, but it just seemed risky.

Then again, he'd take any risk to satisfy you. 

Your body was shaking inconsolably at this point. You were miserable. Days of straight ice and still air were starting to get to you. Truly, you were convinced it was colder outside your home than in it, but you wouldn't run the chance of finding out. You wanted nothing more than to drift into sleep, but it was too cold to even hope for a good night's rest. 

Just as you began to give up, you felt the bed dip beside you. That wasn't right. You lived alone. 

You tried to scream, but a quick hand covered your mouth. Was this the end? Jesus, why you?

"Hush, my love, it is I."

Oh. 

You slacked in Hector's grasp. You had heard his voice many times, and although it sounded a bit different outside of the vent, you still felt its comforting tones wash over you. That didn't change your confusion. Why was he out of the vent?

As if he could hear your thoughts clicking, he answered, "I couldn't stand to see you like this. Suffering, when I can do something about it."

You hummed against his palm in understanding. Your eyes flicked across the wall in front of you as you laid on your side. You wanted to flip over and see him. You tried to resist the urge, to respect his privacy, but your body acted on its own.

Hector quelled your movements sharply, firm hand turning your head to face the wall again. 

"You know I cannot have that." His calloused hand covered your eyes instead. He cupped his palm over them to keep you both literally and metaphorically in the dark about his appearances. "Don't focus on anything but my warmth. Let me help you, amor."

He hastily fidgeted with his belt, popping the buckle with overly eager hands. 

"Let me make everything up to you. Please."

"Don't you know what it does to me to have this power over you?" 

Hector had gotten much more into this than he thought he would. Obviously, a chance to get this close to you, to touch you, was heaven, but to have complete control?

This was the stuff of fantasy. 

Total domination, zero vulnerability. An opportunity to act on all the depraved things he had said to you in the vents without the fear of being judged for his looks? Sign him up.

"To have you at my mercy? To have all of your trust?" He bottomed out, pushing your face into your pillow. Gentle, as to not hurt his precious girl. "I've wanted this for so many moons. So much wasted time—god—if I knew it could be like this..."

You moaned a strangled little noise into the fluffy pillow. He hated not being able to hear the full extent of your pleasure, but there would be time for that another day.

"That's right," Hector said, voice syrupy and warm as he spoke to you, "I would've taken you much earlier."

His hands gripped your hips and forced them upwards. He dreamed about this. It nearly felt like deja vu, seeing as how he thought of bending you into these nasty positions many times before. It was almost too good to be true. 

"Maybe I would have snuck out of the wretched vent early in the morning to visit you." 

What a tease.

"Or maybe late at night. Late when you think nobody hears you, touching yourself in the dark." His hips stuttered. He didn't want to cum yet, not until you did. He wouldn't forgive himself if he messed up yet again. "I hear you. I hear every sound, every little noise you make. I turn the air up. Make it nice and loud, so nobody else gets to enjoy the show you put on."

Despite the slight uncomfortableness of the angle he put you in, you could see why he did it. He was hitting deep. Deep and purposeful. It was too much for you to handle, especially with his teasing. 

"If only you would have asked me for help. I would've been out in a heartbeat." 

A sexy, but flagrant lie. The sweet vent-dweller took to hiding deep in the vents when you masturbated, stroking himself recklessly while trying to silence his breathing. He was far too nervous to actually do anything about it and far too ashamed of eavesdropping. 

"Next time you need pleasure," he choked out, feeling your gummy walls flutter around him, "call for me."

If he had any shame in the current moment, he'd be horrified at how quickly he came after you. He was simply waiting for your body's permission before he blew.

"I'm always here for you, love."

[robbysreaders]

i needed to write something outside of the series i've been doing recently and this just tumbled out of me. I worry Jack is a little ooc here but guess what! idc! ;)

pairing: jack abbot x f!reader

word count: 700ish

You keep a similar schedule to Jack. Well—not exactly. That would be a bit nuts. But you are a night owl, which is why it’s not the least bit surprising when your phone buzzes with his name at 1 a.m. And why you don’t hesitate to pick up.

“An actual booty call? How retro.” “Hiiiiiiii,” he drags out, cutting you off mid-sentence. There’s a smile tucked into every syllable, the kind that always makes you feel like he’s happy you answered. You catch the faintest slur in his words.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?” you ask, laughing. “Heeyyyyy, I’m being good. I’m being soooocial. I’m bonding with my coworkers. I thought you’d be proud of me, not judging me.” “I could never judge you, Jack. If anything, I’m jealous of you. Or maybe just your coworkers…” “I would like to see you. But also, I can’t take my truck…”

“You can come over,” you offer. “I’ll call you an Uber?” “Welllllll that’s the other thing. I don’t wanna get towed… and we’re near your place. So I could walk to you, and then we walk back, and you drive my truck.”

You hear a voice in the background—Robby, you think—grumble, “You don’t even let me drive your car.”

“Jack, this is a lot of logistics for 1 a.m.” You rub your eyes. “Drop me a pin. I’ll walk to you and we’ll figure it out.” “Baaaby, you know I don’t know how to do that sober, much less in this state. And you’re not walking alone.” “Okay, compromise: you text me the name of the bar and we stay on the phone.” He sighs. “Fiiiiiine.”

Four blocks later, you step into a packed bar to the sound of cheers. Way more of Jack’s coworkers than you expected. You would’ve changed out of your sweats if you’d known. But then Jack spots you, and his whole face lights up like you’re the damn sunrise. He wraps his arms around you like he’s been waiting all night.

“Let’s get a drink for the lady!” someone yells. You wave them off. “I’m gonna have to pass. I have work in six hours, so I’m just here to get this drunkard home. Anyone else need a ride?” A chorus of playful boos goes up before Jack cuts them off with a single look. “Alright, call your Ubers. Be safe.”

You leave together, and he steers you two blocks toward your apartment—where his truck is parked.

“For a man who spent an ungodly amount of time in school,” you say, “you might be the dumbest person I know.”

He opens the driver’s side door for you. “What’d I do this time?” “We’re two blocks from my apartment. You could’ve parked in my guest spot. There’s always room.” “I didn’t want to assume,” he says, suppressing a hiccup. You roll your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

You climb into the truck, and he shuts the door behind you with exaggerated care. He fumbles his way around to the passenger side and climbs in, sighing loudly as he slumps into the seat.

It smells like him in here—clean and faintly smoky, like laundry detergent and cedar and something a little spicy that lingers in the upholstery. You reach over and buckle his seatbelt for him because he’s too busy humming along to whatever classic rock station is playing low from the speakers.

“You’re so helpful,” he says, leaning his head against the window dramatically. “I don’t deserve you.”

“No,” you agree, starting the truck. “You don’t.”

You drive the two blocks mostly in silence, save for Jack softly singing along to the guitar solo. When you pull into your building’s guest spot, he doesn’t move to get out. Just turns toward you, slow and heavy-lidded.

“You look really pretty,” he says. “Like… offensively pretty.”

“Okay, now I know you’re drunk.”

“I’m serious.” He leans his head back against the seat and sighs. “I was watching the door all night. Every time it opened I thought—maybe that’s her. You didn’t even know where we were or that I was out but I was hoping. Isn’t that dumb?”

You glance at him. He’s half-asleep already, lashes brushing the tops of his cheeks.

“No,” you say quietly. “It’s not dumb.”

You sit there for another minute, the engine ticking as it cools. Then you shake his arm gently.

“C’mon. Let’s get you upstairs.”

[yushi-ni]

could you write just like wishies reactions to walking in on something... indecent? like not the minors ofc but the freaks 😈 thank u! xx

ෆ NCT WISH ෆ 𝗈𝗇𝗋𝗂𝗒𝗎 + 𝗎𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗉𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗏𝗂𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗌

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱ masterlist

summary; onriyu and unexpected visitors, another member walking in on you two doing ‘indecent’ things

pairing; onriyu - sion version x you

genre; suggestive, smut

warnings; 18+ contains mature card game elements. mentions of make outs - oral (male + female receiving) face fucking unprotected twister

notes; hiii anon!!!! thanks for requesting 😛😛 ok i changed it up a little but and actually made this an actual fic rather than a headcannons because i felt like writing a whole essay again (hihi) BUT i’m also writing a proper ‘reaction’ version for you!!! i wasn’t sure if you wanted the wishies walking in on ‘you’ doing self care or if you wanted one of the other wishies walking in on ‘you and your bf’ so i opted for the latter!!! hope it’s to your liking but if you did want the other one, please let me know and i’ll try writing one with that scenario too!!!! i decided to make 3 different parts because someone got carried away a little bit.. (i’m someone hihi) so here’s sion’s part; NOT PROOFREAD my brain was so fried i’m sorry!!!!!

──୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ──

OH SION

it’s so easy to get lost in your little bubble of love and affection when it’s just you and bf. no care in the world or any sense of the real world outside. it’s been a while since your bf had a night off, no work, no appointments, no other distractions but you. as soon as his manager told him that the team was off the rest of the night, he called you and you quite literally hopped in a taxi and made your way to his dorm. you couldn’t really remember the last time you were able to spend a cozy night in with your bf, he has been so busy with work and yes you knew the downsides of dating an idol, sometimes you couldn’t see your bf for a few days or even get him on a phone call. he’s out of town or locked up in the practice room with his members. you didn’t mind, you support him through thick and thin, yes it gets lonely sometimes, not being able to go see your bf whenever you want to, not being able to just randomly stop by the dorm to have dinner together etc etc but it made the moments shared together a hundred times more memorable and special. it’s those moments that are worth the hours apart. time spent apart only makes you both realise how much you actually missed each other.. how much you actually craved and needed the other;

⋅˚₊‧ 𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗ 🌷🫧☁️

he didn’t get home long after he sent you a text, asking if you were free and wanted to come over. you’ve been on his mind non stop the past week. the last time he saw you was before he went overseas for concerts, after returning to korea he was so packed with schedules he didn’t even have the time to go see you. he texted you every free second of his day, saying how much he misses you and how badly he wanted to see you. you being you were very understanding and encouraging about the situation, he knows it’s hard on you but you never really show or express it towards him. not wanting to upset or discourage him. you reminded him you’d be able to see each other soon again and tonight was finally the time.

he hopped in the shower and put on some comfy clothes, he dried his freshly dyed brown hair and couldn’t help but speed clean his room a little bit before you would step foot in there. he walked into the living room where he was met with the two maknaes playing games together. “hyung!!! come!!! quick sit down, i’m winning” saku only glanced up at the sight of sion entering the room; “no you’re not!” ryo bumped his shoulder against the youngest, “you can’t even get to the 2nd floor without getting caught!” sion chuckled to himself as he almost threw himself onto the couch, watching his two young members, who were seated infront of him on the floor, play their current hyper fixated game. he took out his phone and sent jaehee a text, asking him to invite the two youngsters over to their dorm so he can spend some alone time with you. not even 2 minutes later, sakuryo was up and gathering their stuff to make their way over to the other house. a quick bye before the door was shut behind them. he can’t help but giggle at the thought of his younger brothers, you always joke about him being like their dad but no one can argue the fact that the two are just adorable.

he was scrolling through his netflix recommendations when he heard the doorbell ring. he got up so fast you’d almost think he got had places to be. as soon as he opens the door his grin is so wide, not wasting a second longer as he pulls you in and tackles you in a bear hug. you giggle but gladly accept the hug; “hi baby” you chuckle as you felt his arms pull you impossibly closer to him; “shhhh don’t talk pls, i’m having a moment here” you laugh at his words and he mirrors your reaction, his whole body laughing with him. freeing you from his deadly grip on you, he looks at you, his smile reaching the sparkling in his eyes. eyes shifting from your eyes to his lips and back up, grinning from ear to ear as he presses his lips on yours. you kiss him back, your arms coming up and naturally finding their way around his neck. pulling him down a little more. his hands moving up and down your sides, almost desperately trying to feel you under his skin in comparison to the sweet - tender kiss you’re sharing. you can feel him smile in the kiss, teeth clashing as he slowly pulls back. you look up at him, his hands coming up to your shoulders as he takes a tiny step back. lowkey looking you up and down; “yeaah-“ he says, more to himself than to you. followed by an approving nod; “just how i remembered” you gasp, laughing as you hit his chest. he pulls you in another hug, laughing as well, kissing the top of your head before he lets go and pulls you further into the apartment.

you’re sitting on the couch, cuddled up with your back pressed against his chest and your legs tangled up together. you’ve been trying to concentrate on the movie playing but your head is completely trailed off somewhere else. you look around the room, some interesting and bold chosen ‘art’ decorations suddenly made you realise you haven’t seen or heard the two maknaes the whole night yet. “wait, where are the youngsters?” - “mmh?” sion asks as he was processing the words; “oh they’re at the other dorm, playing with jaehee i think” - “ahh nawh i would have loved to see them, it’s been so long” your bf cleared his throat, shifting up a little bit as he sarcastically said; “yeah i’m very happy to finally see you too” you laughed as you sat up straight, turning your body to look at your bf. “oh cmon you get to see them everyday, i barely saw them the past few weeks!!” you couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on his face; “i’m sorry woman, i don’t think they came as a package deal when you agreed to be with the one and only oh sion” he giggled, mirroring the big smile on your face as you shifted your whole body around, your legs on both side of his body as you straddled his lap. “i should have read the terms of agreement better before making such decisions” your hands dramatically falling to his shoulder as you sighed out loud; “yeah sounds like a whole bunch of losses on your side” sion says, silent giggles falling from his lips, his hands firm on your hips. you look at him, taking in the way he looked back at you, the way his eyes are so bright and full of love, the way his flushed cheeks look so soft and how his hair naturally falls a little over his eyes. “what” he asked, looking you straight in the eyes, trying to make out what you were thinking about. you only smiled, a little teasing; “nothing” he throws his head back to lean against the couch, only humming a; “mhmh” as he can’t help but smile again. his eyes look so soft but you can’t miss the way his hands are gripping your hips a little more tightly. looking at you, raising his eyebrow (pls this video haunts me; video) waiting for your next move which he gladly accepts as you crash your lips onto his.

your hands in his hair, his busy wandering up and down your sides, soft moans filling up the room mixed with the sound of your lips moving against the other as you share a passionate kiss. seconds have passed, minutes have passed, time gets forgotten as you completely lose yourself in the moment. sion’s tongue finds yours as he fights you for dominance, a sweet kiss quickly turning into one of lust and need. you moan as he puts more pressure onto your lips, his body moving a bit forward, pressimg himself more onto you. you pull his head a bit back, he groans now it’s you who welcomes herself in his mouth now, you push him back till his back hits the couch again. his hands are strong against your skin, pressing you down more firmly. your grip in his hair only tightening as you roll your hips into his. he moans in the kiss, pulling his head back as your push your hips down onto his lower abdomen again, repeating the same movement, pulling his head back completely, giving yourself perfect acces to the bare skin on his neck. your lips work their way up his exposed skin, wet kisses as you almost make out with the sweet spot on his neck. soft sighs coming from your boyfriends lips, his hands coming up to your ass, pressing you onto him more. his eyes shut closed, focusing on the feeling of your lips, the pressure’s so strong you’ll for sure leave marks on his skin (but that’s a worry for later) he pulls you back, lips pressed back on yours in a split second, the kiss is more messy and desperate. hungry for more. your hips rolling into his as your almost desperately humping each other.

“mm fuck-“ sion groans; “t-too much yn fuck” his hands still your movements as he lifts you up from his lap. “if you don’t stop i’ll literally burst right here and now” you chuckle; “and that’s a bad thing becaaaause..?” you giggle at the sight infront of you. eyes heavy as he looked up to you. “because i have not survived more than a week without touching you to be finished in less than a minute, now get off” you couldn’t help but laugh as you swing your legs to one side, leaning back against the arm rest as your bf gets himself on his knees to adjust his sweatpants that show a wet stain from your previous position. “uhhuh mr oh sion, the great survivor of a little touch deprivation” you tease as you push him with your foot. he gasped sarcastically, one hand over his heart as the other brushed through his hair; “a little respect here please” he laughs as he positioned himself in between your legs. “mhmh respect is to be earned..” you pulled your bf closer by the strings of his hoodie. he scoffed; “don’t say things you’ll regret later” face inches away from yours; “make me” his eyes switched to a different tone, lips crashing on yours in a split second. hungry - sloppy and more desperate than he ever kissed you before. allowing himself access in your mouth, only grinning as you whine and moan into his.

his hand comes down to your clothed core, stretching your pants so the material tightens around your already soaked core. his fingers pressing down against your clit, you moaned, pulling away from his lips to catch your breath. sion smirked, his thumb now rubbing and working their way on your wet core. you pushed your hips up, thrusting into his hands as you were chasing the feeling of his hands. sion pushed your hips back down, pressing you into the couch as his fingers sped up; “stay still” he nodged his head in the crook of your neck, placing wet open mouthed kisses as he trails up to your jawline. repeatedly sucking and kissing the exposed skin as you throw your head back more. his hands still working their way on your clit. you moaned, a knot forming in your stomach, you throw one of your legs around his body, overwhelmed by the intense feeling of his fingers and lips. you whined; “fuckk- sion- i’m..“ - “i’m what?” his voice low and cocky. his lips were back on yours before you could answer. your hand came up to his hair as you desperately try to steady yourself down, you rolled your hips in his hand again, in need of more friction. almost reading your mind, sion’s hand comes to a halt and in a swing motion find their way in your pants, past the line of your panty. you moan loudly, gasp muffled in the kiss as he enters with two fingers, immediately pulling in and out as his thumb applies pressure on your clit. you try to kiss back, almost impossible as sion’s fingers keep working their way on your lower abdomen. “oh fuck-“ you whined.

the feeling in your stomach only getting more intense, building up as you can feel the heat blooming more and more. “sion-“ you whisper, almost helpless, breathing heavily. his mouth moving to your neck again, greedy, not wanting to miss any part of your exposed skin. his thumb is circling swift motions, pressing down just hard enough for the tension to get more and more intense. his name leaving your mouth in moans in chokes. “fuck yn, i missed the way you sound” you don’t reply, your voice not strong enough to let out any words, you only whimper as the knot gets stronger and stronger.

he lifts his head, he pulls his fingers out but before you can even plead, he pulls down your pants along with your panty in one motion. your legs up in the sudden movement, throwing your clothes somewhere on the floor. his voice low as he admires the view infront of him; “just as beautiful as always” you whine as you hit his arm, almost feeling shy under his strong gaze; “ya, my eyes are up here” sion chuckles; “baby as much as i love your eyes, i think i’ve got mine more focused elsewhere” his eyes are heavy and filled with lust, he drops to the floor, on his knees, crawling between your legs as he locks his eyes with you. your legs spread, your fingers in his hair, anticipating the feeling that’s coming. his mouth is on your thighs, open mouthed kisses dragged along the insides of your legs. his tongue licking his way to your now throbbing core, desperate for his mouth to come in touch with the one place you need him most right now, you can’t help but buck your hips upward, you feel the vibration of his groan into your skin as he presses you back down. arms around your legs, locking you down to keep you from moving. his kisses come to a halt, his eyes flicker to yours, smirking as he dips his head down. his lips are warm and soft, tongue entering you as he sucks and licks his way up and down, in and out.

your breath is stuck in your throat, you can only moan and cry out as his tongue flicks again and again. your grip in his hair tightens, back arged, head thrown back as your eyes roll to the back of your head. you can feel him smirk against your skin, not holding back, your sounds only making him more greedy to taste you. his mouth is moving as if he’s trying to make up for the time you spent apart. he’s sloppy, desperate and eating you out like a starved man. he hums, the vibration sending shivers down your spine, your body aches everywhere. you whine; “aghhh sion- pls- i can’t..” your breath is choking, you whimper as your chest is feeling heavier with every passing moment. your body is on fire, your legs shaking while he is still holding you down with his arms, one of your hands desperately reach for one of the pillows next to you, clenching the fabric as you start trembling, “sion- please” your mind is so high on the feeling. he groans, he feels your legs fighting to stay down. “fuck- don’t stop,” your stomach twists as sion pulls your body almost impossible more down, his face deep into you. he licks and sucks, almost ruthless. “come for me,” he says, his voice so low it you feel it through your whole body; “wanna taste you baby” his fingers are back on your clit. motioning in a way it literally makes you see stars. he presses onto you, the feeling of his mouth and his fingers makes your toe curls and eyes roll back. you can’t control the sounds you make, half sobs - half moans as you uncontrollably breath out in whined. you can feel the tears form in your eyes, your whimpers turning into cries, and only the sound of his name leaving your mouth as your orgasm rushes through you. your breath is stuck in your throat. but he doesn’t stop, he lets you ride out your high, licks up every single part of you, your body goes numb, completely slumps into the couch. your chest still moving from your heavy breathing. only then does he lift his head back up, smirking with his lips completely glossy and wet.

he can’t help the ghosting smile on his face as he’s hovering over you. you’re staring up at him, eyes pleading and fucked out. he moves down so his lips are brushing over yours; “malways taste so good,” his lips are on yours, more sweet and tender this time, slowly moving with yours in an almost perfect rhythm. you can taste yourself on his lips, his body now leaning down on you completely, arms on both sides of you to prevent his weight pressing you down. one of your arms swing around his neck, pulling him almost impossibly closer, you can still feel the high and rush from before. not aware that you’re still holding onto the pillow. his hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers. it’s only then you’re reminded that he’s still fully clothed when he grinds down onto you. again and again until his hips are almost moving on impulse. he’s pressing himself into you harder and harder, moans ruffled in the kiss by the feeling of the fabric on your bare, still sensitive, clit. you can feel the outline of his thickness through his sweatpants, you meet his hips midway, rolling your hips against his. it’s almost shameless, the way you’re grinding against him as if he didn’t make you cum a few minutes ago, but you can’t help it. sion presses himself down on you completely, his growing bulge pressing right against your heat. stopping your movements at the same time, his head drops to your shoulder, panting for breath; “fuck baby- i swear i’m trying to stretch this as long as i can” your hand goes to his hair, scratching his head with your nails, breathing into his ear; “don’t,” you can feel his dick twitch in his pants. he doesn’t let it linger for long, before you know it his pants and boxers are off, thrown into the room, somewhere with yours. his hard on upright, tip wet from the pre-juice. your core is throbbing just by the sight of his size. you bite your lip, mesmerised with the thickness, a soft chuckle coming from your bf; “ya.. my eyes are up here” you glare up to him, rolling your eyes at the amused look on his face. his hands go to the hem of his sweatshirt when you stop him; “just leave it on,” too eager and needy to even bother taking off more clothes than necessary. sion laughs, taking his dick in his hands, pumping it a few times as he steadies himself in between your legs again.

your hand comes up to take his length in your hand, pushing away his own, you stroke him up and down, fingers circling on his tip, spreading his pre-cum around his dick. your eyes look up to him, pleading, batting your eyelashes as you stick out your tongue, your free hand pulling his lower body more towards you by his legs. you slide down the couch a little more making him hover over you more so he has to kneel on one knee. he groans loudy, understanding your intentions, his honey eyes looking down on you as you pull his lower body closer and closer to your face. sion sighs loudly as he feels your kitten licks against his tip. you lick again, and again; “fuck don’t tease baby” you smile and with that, you come up to wrap your whole mouth around his member. sucking in your cheeks as you bob your head up and down. he leans forward, both hands steadying himself on the backrest of the couch. he looks down at you, the sight of him disappearing in your mouth has his dick twitching. you moan against him, the vibration rushing through his whole body. “fuckkkk-“ he hissed, he’s fighting demons to stay still, letting you do your thing and making him feel good. your mouth moving faster, you hum against him, saliva running down his dick. you let your head fall back a little bit, leaning against the couch, as you pull him with you in the same motion. sion repositions a little bit so most of his weight is on his leg that’s up. your hand comes up to stroke the rest of his length that you don’t have in your mouth. taking your time to make sure every inch of his member is ‘used’. he loves the way you feel around him, nothing can ever top the feeling of your mouth on his dick. he can only sigh deeply as he’s trying to fully concentrate on you. you suck him off in a way his head feels light, his eyes rolled to the back of his head, biting his lip, trying to suppress the moans from coming out. he can feel himself hit the back of your throat, your small hands working wonders on the base of his length while you take him as far as you can, from this angle at least.

a loud whimper coming from you when your bf suddenly thrusts into your mouth, his hands gripping the couch as he rolls his lower body into your face. you moan loudly, you let your hands drop to your sides, one grabbing his calves to steady yourself a bit. you can feel him hitting the back of your throat, hard. you hallow your cheeks a little more, creating more tension. you can only mirror the sounds coming from him. his eyes are fluttered shut, trying not to fuck himself into you too hard, but you make him lose his mind completely. totally immersed in the moment itself, he keeps rolling his hips down, the muffled sounds of your breathing and moans steadying his pace.

he pulls back and with a little plop your mouth gets detached from his length. you open your eyes by the sudden emptiness, sion sits back down again, on both knees as his hands come up to lift your legs. he squeezes your thighs as he puts them up to each side of his face. he positions himself in between, with his extremely hard on right at your heat, he strokes the tip over your core, a moan coming from both of you. he inhales deeply; “i can’t promise i can hold out long” a breathy giggle leaving his mouth. you rolled your eyes at your bf; “just fuck me sion” he chuckles- “your wish is my command” and with that, he pushes his tip in, leaning down, pressing your own legs against your body, feet touching the backrest of the couch, pushing himself in completely, stretching you out as you both moan at the feeling. when he’s completely inside, his hand grip the backrest, not giving you any time to adjust to the feeling as he buttoms out and thrusts back into your lower body. he’s quick to set a pace, fucking into you and quickly the whole room fills up with the sound of skin slapping against each other paired with the whiny sounds of moans. his hips snap against yours as he stretches you out with every thrust. he looks down at where his dick disappears in you, he groans as he places the other hand that was holding onto your leg on the couch as well. now snapping his hips in a new angle.

he moans loudly, biting his lip as he slows down his pace a little; “fuck baby, you feel so good” he grunts as he bottoms himself out, slightly pushing himself back in, but just the tip. “don’t tease,” you whined as you almost desperately tried to push him back in by his legs; “please-“ he snickered softly, pulling out, brushing his tip against your clit, rubbing you with his length a couple times before he thrusts back in, so deep your eyes roll back in an instant. he’s stretching you out so hard you cry out his name. he groans, letting go of your legs and places them around his middle, you pull him down, your arms around his neck to feel him closer. his head in the crook of your neck; his moans muffled against your skin as he rolls his hips. a steady pace, as you let him fuck you. you’re both a mess, fully immersed in the moment; body’s tangled in each other’s, moving together in an almost perfect motion.

you’re so caught up in each other’s you didn’t even notice the end credits started playing on the screen, or the fact you didn’t even close the blinds.. or the sound of the door getting unlocked. “hyung!” riku called; “sionnie-hyung, saku and ryo fell asleep so they.. WOW WAH WOAH!!!” both yours and sion’s head snapped out of your own little love bubble as he shot up from his position on top of you. both boys’ eyes widened as they stared at each other, riku completely frozen in the doorway while your bf had a panicked expression on his face, mirroring your own. “oh- i.. hyung- i-“ riku stuttered. “just give us a minute please,” sion says, laughing in embarrassment. still half in shock but he can’t help but giggle mostly out of an attempt to calm himself down. “no, yes, ofc, as many minutes as you need actually” riku says; “i- uh- i just came to tell you that the youngsters are sleeping over at our place” he smiled awkwardly, nodding his head in your direction as a small; ‘hi’. you smiled back, slowly feeling the rush of adrenaline coming down as you realise what is actually happening. “okay yeah great, thanks. you- uh- you can go now” your bf says as he brushes his hand through his hair. riku, clearly lulled out of his shocked state, slightly smirked at the sight infront of him as he backs out through the door.

a yelp coming from sion, like one you never heard before. (video; pls he’s so cute) you cover your face in your hands as you throw you head on the couch; “oh my god-“ you laughed, you hit his shoulder as he looks at you, not being able to hold back his laugh anymore. his hands brush through his hair again, a failed attempt to fix the messy look. “remind me to never have sex in your dorm again” you sighed as you palmed your face. “nooo but no one’s even here!” sion protested, laughing even more now. “no one?!!! was riku a hallucination just now?” you smacked his arm again, whining. he laughs when the sound of a new message on his phone pops up, he grabs his phone, still giggling because of the whole situation.

ʀɪᴋᴜ; 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨? 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩? 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘰𝘳 𝘦𝘭𝘴𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶’𝘳𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 :)

he only laughed, showing you the screen with riku’s chat. “that was not funny omg,” you breathed; “what if it was actually on of the youngsters coming home!” you looked at your bf in utter disbelief; “but it wasn’t, it was just riku” he laughed at you, typing what you believe is a reply to said boy. “if i wanted an audience i would have asked for one, just riku is just one riku too many” you let out a little laugh, unsure how you were going to face riku again tomorrow. “oh cmon, do you think riku is the holy virgin mary?? the amount of times i’ve heard him and his gf going at it, trust me they need to write a whole new book series called fifty shades of riku for all i know” you laughed, a genuine laugh this time. a deep sigh you didn’t even know you were holding in escaping from your lips. your bf leaned down to you, kissing your head; “mmh are we going to finish what we started tho?” - “oh sion!!” you pushed him away, your bf laughing amused; “i have a lock on my door!” you click your tongue; “you’re actually uncontrollable, yk that?” he nods his head, his eyes fully focused on you now; “mhmh but only for you”

[seroopygoopy]

☆.「 Jotun x GN! Reader 」.☆

As I was doom scrolling through TikTok, I came across a video on seals. Specifically the silly little sounds they make. Then a headcannon bloomed. Yautja’s making the same barks, huffs, and growls as these furry tubs of lard 🥹.

Like imagine just hanging out with your yautja, y’all are just doing some everyday chores or training and all you hear is this 👇

Coming from this absolute unit 😭

Like what?!!? Does anyone else find their clicking cute or is it just me? They’re menacing under scary situations but outside of those circumstances their little trills and clicks are so unique and adorable to me.

Deadass I have a whole YouTube playlist I use to lock in just on yautja ASMR’s 😋!

Brief summary: You live with Jotun (Idk if thats his canon name) and in this scenario y’all share some fruit!

Notes: There’s literally zero dialogue and it’s all fluff!! Also please excuse my grammar. English wasn’t my first language, Spanish is 🙌🏻! Also if you have any questions then feel free to ask. If you have any constructive criticism or tips on how to improve my writing, please let me know! I’m always open to new suggestions.

It’s been exactly three years since you were snatched up from earth and dropped onto the unfamiliar terrain known as Yautja Prime. A desert landscape of vast, arid expanse where the heat is top of the chain. The land is filled with shades of ochre, rust and pale sand. Jagged rock formations sculpted by centuries of wind erosion. Sparse vegetation clings to survival by a thread. The alien biology resembled earth’s own flora but these had a more volatile twist to them. More spikey, bigger and had stronger defense mechanism. No wonder the yautja were so deadly, everything was out to kill them. They HAD to be deadly to survive such a hostile world. Everything was larger and more ferocious just like the natives here.

Honestly you were shocked you were even alive but here you were currently strolling through the village with Jotun. That wasn’t his actual name of course but it was the nickname you picked out for the rotund beast. It just fit him better.

Using both your hands you carried a large basket of fruit, your limbs struggling just slightly to support it’s weight. Arms covered in scratches from retrieving these juicy treats. Defiantly worth it! these were especially sweet this time of year when the sun was practically cooking you alive. Jotun helped you with most of it since the skin of his hands were naturally more thick and suitable for the hostile vegetation.

He walked slowly in front of you carrying two baskets, each woven vessel containing diffrent fruits. You haven’t tried either yet actually. The massive yautja before you walked with a hint of excitement and anticipation in his stride. He took great delight in watching you react to new things. Like a curious puppy he’d sit beside you and just watch. Eager mandible clicks and funny seal-like sounds coming from his chest filled the air after you responded. It always shocked you to hear the various sounds yautja made.

As of now, your feet padded against the scorching sand, even wearing protective feet pads you could still feel the sting. Not as intense but it was most definitely there. Jotun and yourself were currently heading back to his home. A place you shared with him through out all three years.

Upon arrival, the three woven baskets were placed neatly on the wooden counter. You and Jotun immediately got to work with the fruit. Meticulously scrubbing away the dust from the fruit’s thick skin, Jotun separated those ready to be eaten from the ones better suited for storage. The ripest he placed carefully aside, while the rest were tucked into a makeshift cooler lined with scavenged insulation and chilled stones.

Yautja were primarily carnivorous, their culture steeped in the thrill of the hunt and the taste of fresh kill, but they weren’t above drawing sustenance from other energy sources when the opportunity presented itself.

Jotun’s favorite was a watermelon sized fruit—red skin, green frills and white flesh, it bore an uncanny resemblance to a rambutan. Only this one was freakishly large.

He sank a claw into the rind, splitting it into half with a satisfying crack. He held the other piece with one hand and waited for you to transfer it over to yours. His mandibles clicked, a purr rumbled from his chest and with that you knew he was happy.

Jotun bit down on his half, clear juice dripped down his tusks as another purr erupted from within. You couldn’t help but giggle at his purring. It reminded you of a seal but only deeper and coming from a mountain of a man. He turned his gaze to you, slightly lowered himself and gently pushed the fruit you held up to your face. His scaly hand dwarfing your own.

Puppy dog eyes, glowing with a beautiful red hue, gazed up at you with a mix of fondness and curiosity. A soft chuckle slipped from your lips, unable to resist the innocent plea in that look. You couldn’t keep him waiting, How could you with a look like that?

Your teeth sank into the tender white flesh, the sugary fluid flooded your tastebuds. A soft moan surged from your chest as you chewed on the fruit. The texture was tender, almost melting, and the subtle coolness contrasted with the warmth of the air around you. He watched intently, anticipation shining in his eyes, as if sharing in every bite. Water-like juice ran down your chin similar to when jotun bit into his own.

Then a completely new sound filled your ears. Almost like a purr, but different—rougher, deeper, with a strange rhythm to it. You bared your teeth in a wide grin as laughter bubbled up uncontrollably. The sound was quirky, no doubt, but so unbelievably precious, especially coming from muscle man over here, whose usual demeanor could be carved from stone.

Jotun turned his head to the side like a confused pup, his brows knitted together, face shifting in that slow, deliberate way he always moved. Analyzing, observing, puzzling it out. What was so funny? Had the fruit triggered some odd chemical reaction in your brain? Some euphoric side effect he’d overlooked?

Then it dawned on him.

The realization hit him with a slow-burning certainty. Jotun’s eyes narrowed while his mandibles pressed back into place. A low rumble filled with annoyance mixed with your laughter. That noise he made—a gentle trill, part rumble, part something new was his people’s way of showing they were very happy.

Yet without doubt here you were laughing. Not at him just at the silly noise he made. There was no mock, no malice, nothing that deemed your laughter as teasing. It was just laugh of pure joy.

His grumble of irritation shifted to deep laugh. A moment of vulnerability between two souls from diffrent origins, cultures, and most notably—diffrent planets. To one, the other was alien and to the other, the same.

Two beings sat on soft furs while enjoying simple, mundane fruit. No words were ever exchanged. No shared tongue was needed to find comfort in each other's presence. Only shared laughter.

[bokettochild]

Do you have some hcs for Legend? I'd love to hear your thoughts on him :)

So, so many of them!

he's far-sighted! Due to a lot of adventuring and focusing on the far away stuff, he's actually trained his eyes to always be focused on far away things, and so now he struggles to see things clearly close up. he has specticals for it (Impa took him to get some when they were in Labrynna together) but he rarely remembers to wear them, and doesn't like to out on the road to begin with, as he's worried they'll break. he tends to forget he's wearing them when at his house though, so Ravio's really the only one who sees him wear them more than he sees him without them.

he's totally a bit of a history nerd, because I said so. It was more just stories when he was little, but between frequently interacting with ancient artifacts and architecture, as well as time traveling himself, Legend's become somewhat fascinated with history. he likes having all the answers (as most Links do) but for him, that includes knowing where things came from, why they were made, and so on

he's also a horse girl, much like Twilight and Warriors, but doesn't travel with a mount because it's less convenient. While having a mount in a Zelda game DOES make avoiding foes much easier, it also gets frustrating when you have to go find them again after doing however many things (point in case, my BotW horses are scattered to the four winds All The Time). Legend, who frequently is getting up and dropped in random places, doesn't like that this would leave any of his mounts alone in the middle of nowhere and thus doesn't take his own horse many places as a result. Said horse is Puini (OoA manga) and is currently housed either at the castle or with his grandparents (OoS manga). He dotes on her exceedingly, and being around Epona now reminds him of her a lot. Being as she's a literal war horse though (trained for battle with a knight) he has an inkling she would't quite like the mares of the rest of his brothers and leaves her out of the conversation when they bring up mounts

he's the OPPOSITE of someone with claustephobia! I have this fic I'm writing in my head right now where the boys finish their adventure just to get collectively dropped at Lon Lon with no way home, and have to adapt to "normal" life. A chapter of said fic (if I write it) would likely focus on the fact that Legend literally grew up in dungeons, like, his games have the most dungeons of all the Zelda games, as well as some of the biggest focus on dungeons, and as a result, they likely feel more familiar to him than the open world (and oddly safer, since they're predictable and follow Rules that the outside world doesn't have). I like to think that small, narrow, dark places would actually be soothing for him, to the point that, in the theoretical fic, it freaks the rest out when they find out he keeps purposefully climbing into dried up wells for some space when he's homesick. Maybe it's the inner bunny instincts, maybe it's a pre-existing trait that influenced the magic that made him a bunny to begin with, but Legend tends to burrow, and feels safest when he's in smaller, darker places.

He loves puzzles. I think it was Squido who said that we should let the boys enjoy their adventures, no? Let them look back fondly and smile at some things? For Legend, I think the thing he loved most about adventures with the problem solving, and puzzles are the best sorts of problems because you're guaranteed that there IS an answer. So, for someone who grew up doing puzzles most of his life (dungeons), they're a familiar thing for him and a challenge for him to face without actually endangering himself. he likes mind puzzles and logic puzzles mainly, but picture puzzles are fun too for him

Apple snob. He knows all the apple types, probably bred two of his own apple breeds somewhere in his life, and he has opinions on all of them

Nature boy. Not like Wild and Hyrule who like to get lost in it, no, Legend just likes existing in nature. He grew up on Orchard Hill, so gardening and husbandry are something he was raised to before the hero shtick, and he finds a certain sort of peace in gardening/plants. Also, he travels a lot, so he spends a lot of time by himself out of doors. Granted, that's also where a lot of the bad stuff happens to him, but the good outweighs the bad and I think he genuinely would love to go hiking or do nature walk sorts of things if adventure didn't scoop him up every time he left the house

Really big dancer. Mostly because of Din, partially because of Marin, and Cadence definitely had an influence too. Unfortunately, his mental metronome is set to the music pulse of Octavio's magic so he sort of just...can't keep a beat well without a lot of time to adjust. Once he's got it though he's killer

He can play a lot of instruments, but I really like the idea that the violin is his favorite. yes, he's got that precious ocarina from the dream world, and he learned to play one of those first, but like the idea that Uncle Aflon or maybe one of his friends was a violinist, and Legend just got dead set as a kid on that particular instrument. It's also a very diverse and emotional instrument, which grants him a lot of freedom of expression he'd usually not allow himself

He didn't speak his first word until he was four. Uncle Aflon kind of accepted early on that he might be mute, but as it happened, he just didn't feel the need to use words to communicate, since what he wanted was either always evident or could be figured out without him having to speak much. I think he was likely either mostly silent as a child, using mainly sign or other nonverbal communications, but if you want to make it angsty, I also like to say that it could be because his throat got messed up by an illness he had when he was very small so talking was painful for him. I HC that that changed after he traveled to Labrynna, because the memaid's curse didn't just give him a tail, but also effected/altered his voice, making speech easier for him but also making it to where he can actually cham people with his voice if he's not careful (which perhaps contributed to him becoming a harsher spoken person because then the charm is less likely to slip through on accident if he's being a jerk)

Continuing the speech HCs, I think Legend's tendency towards speech is impacted heavily by wo he's around. if it's anyone he met prior to Labrynna, or in Labrynna, he defaults to mostly sign, whereas if he met them after, he tends to usually use spoken words

Legend' far more expressive and open with sign language, as tone is very important and easier to navigate for him. In essence, it is his first language and the one he's most comfortable with

That said, with people he's truly comfortable with, legend's just straight up non-verbal. he doesn't feel the need to speak and usually just uses facial expressions and exaggerated motions to express himself. Being able to shut down the speech center of his brain for a bit is a huge relief and since those he knows well know how to read him just fine like that, it doesn't make much of a difference either way

As y'all know, I champion the Fable and Legend are siblings HC, though I know it's neither cannon, nor likely to be cannon in LU (pretty sure JoJo confirmed it's not true). Still, I really really like the twins thing!

On the note of being twins! You know how sometimes, with twins, one comes out stronger than the other? Yeah, that was Fable. Legend's actually the smaller/weaker twin, though not by much. he was a very sickly baby though. Oddly enough though, despite being physically weaker than his sister, he actually got the stronger of the magic between the two of them! It might even be possible that the strength of his magic might have been the reason his body is weaker; because housing that much power can put a significant strain on a body. Either way, Fable and he joke about it frequently, saying that as he's got stronger Holy magic, he should have been the princess, and since she's physically stronger, she should be the one with the sword. He doesn't mean it though, and is only playing along. Fable kinda sorta really does mean it though)

It's less focused on by the fandom as a whole, but in case you didn't know: Legend is more than just a polyglot! In his games alone, we see that he can hear and understand not only most trees (not just guardian trees like the Deku and Maku trees, but the normal ones around Kakariko too), but also animals, spirits, and literally forces of nature! Heck, the literal SEASONS coo about how adorable he is when you meet them in OoS! That said, I think he learned pretty early on that this isn't normal. Uncle started getting really worried when he saw and heard Legend speaking to what seemed to be thin air on multiple occasions, so he learned to just not answer unless there aren't other humans/hylians around

Continuing the previous one, this does mean that Legend has to frequently resist asking for directions from various passing by birds and animals, and instead just bites his tongue and lets Twilight go off scouting because explaining that he can hear voices no one else can hear is just....ot the best of ideas

Despite the rest of the heroes' being under the impression that Legend was an only child, he actually has Middle Child energy. this is because he grew up with Fable, Ralph, the Oracles, and Ghanti bossing him around/messing with him, but he also helps look after his neighbor Gully, who I fully believe he loves the same way that Wind loves Aryll.

While I have Gully on the mind, I think Smith and his wife have mentally adopted Legend and all but see him as their eldest, since Bertha (Smith's wife), also had a hand in helping Aflon, newly appointed caretaker to an infant he knows nothing about minding, with learning about babies. Legend however, dense as he is, still fully believes they just put up with him for their actual son's sake, since Gully clearly adores him so much

This shows up a lot in my fics, but I like the idea that Legend loves the stars. Like, tehy're the same, always there, no matter where you go. he's traveled a lot and been tossed into random locations where everything is different, yet whenever he looks up, there the stars are, the same as always, just from a different angle. I think Uncle Aflon taught him the various constellations when he was small, and maybe when Legend was lonely in his adventures he started talking to them like they could hear them (and heck, if the seasons can hold a conversation, then why couldn't the stars?). Also, you know the thing about how if you're deep enough underground and you look up through a hole you can see the sky? Yeah, he's more used to night skies and stars than sunlight

Despite being a traveler, he's actually got a palish complexion for his skin tone, since he spends most of his time underground. He's also a bit sensitive to sunlight all around and gets a headache fairly quickly when he's out in it. He hates noon time and would rather be sleeping than awake when the suns at its zenith

I've seen this one around a bit, but I really love the idea that legend enjoys wearing his uncle's old clothes around the house when he's between adventures. he probably keeps Uncle's pipe tobacco and other things stored with the clothes so they still smell like him even after all these years

He's entirely unaware of the fact that being on regular speaking terms with the Golden Goddesses, the Fates, the Seasons, the freaking Triforce, and most royalty is uncommon for a hero. He's aware most people don't do it, but it's sort of jarring for him when he realizes that the other heroes' dealings are limited to mostly mortals, and lowly ones at that, and that when they do speak of the goddesses, it's usually with some sort of reverence. Meanwhile Legend will and has insulted Din to her face for picking on him about his height, gossips with Farore whenever they run into each other, and the only one he kinda treats with reservation/respect is Nayru because they sort of faught each other that one time and while it wasn't her faught, it still makes things a bit awkward at times

He tends to chew on things when he's restless/agitated. He's not even aware he's doing it half the time, and has chewed his sleeves, hair, and various tools at different times. The Chain have designated bowls (Sky got bored) and his has very clear signs of gnawing around the edges. Same with any wooden spoons he's given (although, being as Uncle raised him with manners, Legend does carry his own silverware at all times, and thus rarely needs to borrow from others (it's a medieval manners thing))

Unlike the stereotype of men when they're sick, Legend actually gets really quiet when he's sick. Hyrule's the same way and it's mostly to draw the least attention to themselves when they're not in fighting condition. Usually though, he tends to take the 'sleep through it' approach, which is really a very poor choice, but as far as he's concerned, it's worked until now so he's not changing it

I think Legend's a very physical person, someone who likes to be able to touch and feel various things, and generally enjoys the idea of physical affection, but in reality balks at it because it usually catches him off guard. That said, he do be touching all the stuff and animals.

Gets weird about dodongos. he knows that the majority of them are threats, but there's always a part of him that wonders if some of them are like Dimitri, and it can be tricky for him to fight them at times

The early Zelda games are sort of wack honestly, but the fact that he's technically a telepath gets brushed aside way too much, y'know? Like, Legend regularly has conversations with Zelda and Sahasralah from miles away, IN HIS HEAD, and only uses certain stones to strengthen that connection, not forge it to begin with! Now, he might just be receptive to telepathy, maybe it's a twin thing (I have a WIP about that) but I think it'd be really funny if he's just sitting on that little skill and never brings it up because linking up (lol) thoughts with someone can be very overwhelming when your brain is already moving a thousand miles a minute, and trying to process thoughts and feelings that aren't his own gives him a migraine. So he just.... doesn't. Unless Zelda reaches out first or he needs to tell her something important.

He's terrible about self care and remembering his own needs, but will, can, and does scold others for doing the same. He doesn't even care that he's a huge hypocrite, not much anyway

Magpie. Boy loves his shiny things. Like, he doesn't technically need everything he has, and he knows most of it will never be used, but if it's pretty he keeps it anyway

I feel like Legend'a also got a bit of food insecurity. When he was a kid, freshly thrust into his first adventure and with the kingdom turned against him, he didn't actually know how to find his own food and ended up going hungry a LOT during that first adventure (which might have stunted his growth a bit). Since then, he's made a point to not only educate himself on what's safe to eat and what's not, but he also taught himself how to preserve and prepare long lasting foods, which he keeps a huge stockpile of. He also doesn't trust any food he hasn't watched be prepared unless it's made by someone he trusts, and even then sometimes his anxiety/paranoia gets the better of him. There were a few neighbors who tried slipping something in the meals they gave him under the pretense of taking pity, when in reality they planned to turn him over to the knights, so he's always cautious now

He's actually less wary and guarded outside of Hyrule than he is inside of it. Lorule is an exception because it's a version of Hyrule, but any other country is used to a very different version of him because Legend isn't always suspecting foul play in other kingdoms who have nothing to gain from his death.

He cannot handle blood well. Yeah, he's a hero, yeah, he fights a lot, and yes, he's frequently injured in battle or dungeons, but watching his Uncle bleed to death left him with a kind of hemophobia and he tends to have mini panic attacks/breakdowns when exposed to large amounts of blood. He hates it, but can't control it, and hasn't found a way to overcome it at all

After spending a long time at sea after Koholint, trying to find his way home, Legend actually really dislikes the taste of fish. He had to rely on his mer form a lot getting home, and fish has been ruined forever because it was his only choice for food, and eating it raw (mer) did make him sick a few times (he's still hylian at his core) so now he tends to get queasy when eating fish, just on reflex

He's a dead ringer for his late mother, to the point where people who knew her sometimes double take

I know Warriors is supposed to be the pretty one, but considering Legend's canonically had forces of nature comment on how pretty he is (I think it was Summer specifically, but it could have been one of the other Seasons), I think he's got a type of beauty that, at the least, appeals to the supernatural/magical beings. He's unaware of this though, although he'll always say Fable is one of the most beautiful people in the world, all while unawares of the fact that they're nearly identical looks-ways

He likes to doodle. Drawing more so, but e enjoys both depending on what mood he's in

Logically and artistically minded. Numbers bother him though (something Ravio, who is the reverse, definitely abuses)

He's one of those people who genuinely will be happy if you get him a candle. He's got everything anyone could need, but something that smells nice, offers minimal light, and he;s always running out of? Oh he loves them. He's very picky about what scents he'll accent though because his nose is very sensitive

He cracks his knuckles and rolls his shoulders a lot when he's bored/tense/stressed- basically all the time LOL

he uses sewing/stitchwork as a way to try and relax himself after a long day. it works half the time. the other half his thread gets tangled and he gets very worked up LOL

Secretly admired Sky's skills in embroidery, but doesn't have the patience to practice anything complicated

he loves to teach people things, but constantly assumes people won't listen, so he tends to break things down to bare basics rather than going into the nitty gritty like he enjoys.

Such a big sweet tooth

Genuinely hates the feeling of fur. Twilight's pelt bothers him, not just because the guy who turns into a wolf is literally wearing a wolf's skin, but also because the feeling of fur, treated or no, displeases him most of the time. He only likes fur when it's on something alive and moving, and even then, he's picky about it

Has a extreme fear of dogs. It's both from being chased by the soldiers' dogs, but also various dog-like things in the Dark World. Wolfie used to make him very uncomfortable before he realized it was Twilight

Fall boy. The other seasons would be offended if they knew he had a favorite, but I think his little apple farming, leaf crunching, bright color enjoying self would just adore the fall.

he LOVES the rain. His arthritis acts up something awful when it rains, but when it's not too bad he enjoys being out in the rain. That said, he HATES thunderstorms, less because of being struck by lightning (LA) and more because of the storm the night that his Uncle died

He's actually not fond of heights. He doesn't panic, but he's used to being very low, or even below the ground, so being very high above it unsettles him.

He tends to sleep curled up, he's not sure why, he just does

He's got VERY sensitive ears, both to touch and sound

Buck teeth <3

Also, freckles. He doesn't spend much time in the sun, but he does tend to freckle when he has. It also brings out some natural highlights in his hair, but he's not aware of that because it's not happened since he was small

Tends to sound like he's talking down to everyone, but in reality he's just never sure what all most people know about any given subject

Has such a soft spot for kids

He's a god-father to Bippin and Blossom's kid, and he adores that little munchkin, bordering on spoiling them.

Imma end it there because it's late and I need to be up early, but I hope this satisfied your curiosity a bit!

Thanks for the ask! I appreciate the chance to talk about all these ideas!

[tamayula-journal]

I mentioned this briefly on Twitter too, but here’s some rambling about my longform comic-making process.

Now that I’ve completed a total of four full-length chapters, I’ve started to get the hang of things… but even when I "cut corners" by using CSP’s 3D dolls and perspective rulers, I’ve realized it still takes me about four hours per page. That means the latest chapter alone took roughly 80 hours to finish 🤣🤣🤣

As a result, I ended up injuring the joints in my dominant elbow and fingers, constantly feeling dizzy from sleep deprivation, and my brain’s been so fried that I’ve been mentally fuzzy even during day-to-day life. The physical toll was much bigger than I expected 😂 I’ve come to the hard realization that if I keep working like this, I’m definitely going to burn out or get seriously hurt. So I’m now reflecting on my unhealthy pace and trying to figure out a more body-friendly, efficient workflow going forward.

As for both Sebastian×Sakurako and Ominis×MC, I still have over ten chapters left for each couple before they finally become mutual and start dating—the main emotional climax and “first milestone” of their story arcs. Ideally I want to reach that point within the next year, but honestly, at this pace, I’ll collapse long before I get there. So not only do I need to find a better way to work, but I also need to rethink my entire release plan.

I’m starting to consider things like… maybe I’ll skip detailed emotional build-up and only draw the key, impactful scenes in digest-style format. Or maybe I’ll pause the Sebastian×Sakurako storyline and focus only on Ominis×MC for now…

The whole reason I started drawing longform comics in the first place was because I can’t write novels in English. I figured that if I wanted people in the fandom to know my ships, I’d have no choice but to draw it all out in manga form. (I’ve actually tried writing in Japanese and translating with ChatGPT, but despite all that effort, I realized there are still too many barriers—writing good English prose just isn’t something I can manage right now.)

But if drawing one chapter takes me 80 hours, maybe I’d be better off spending that time studying English instead—so that someday I’ll be able to write English fanfics. And honestly, that skill would benefit me outside of fandom too 😂

For now, I’m practicing daily croquis sketching with pen and paper to improve my overall drawing speed and reduce how long it takes me to draw comics. But before I dive into the next chapter of Ominis×MC, I seriously need to rethink a lot of things—try new approaches, improve my process, and experiment until I find something that works better.

[thinkerer24]

Mary on a Cross

Young, sweet, inexperienced Johnny x Big, Bad divorced!Simon

Or, They both realise some things about themselves.

@gerdddds !!! This was SO much fun to write (I think you can guess because it started as a blurb but became so long 😭😭)

Also I suck at writing the accents like some people do, so just- imagine them speaking in their respective accents lmao

SMUT 18+

Simon was tired. His eyes felt heavy in his skull and a certain gritty sensation burnt behind his eyelid that no amount of squinting was getting rid of. Normally, Price's commanding voice kept him and his team in order, oriented them in the right direction, but tonight it just felt like grating in his ear. His foot tapped impatiently on the floor of the conference room, the post mission briefing seeming to last longer than the actual mission itself. He checked the clock above Price's head.

9.34 pm.

He couldn't wait to hit the bar just outside the base and drown himself in vodka (yes, he was a vodka guy secretly at heart; don't tell Price).

John signalled the end of the meeting and Simon almost leapt out of his seat to flee the room, attendance signatures be damned. He's a lieutenant for god's sake, not a child, he could-

"Boss! Wait for me!"

Simon is a very patient man, too. At least, he'd like to think so. But he doesn't know why every deity and every spirit was making it very very difficult for him to maintain his cool today. Did he piss someone off? Is this all that karma hitting back at him?

"Yes, McTavish, what do you want?"

The spritely young man jogged to keep up with Simon, who hadn't stopped walking, by the way, and looked a bit too excited for someone who'd just come back from a grueling ten-day mission in the middle of bumfuck Siberia.

"Are you going to Joe's? I can come with, if that's okay? I really really really need to get pissed, I don't think I've ever craved alcohol in my cells before but fucks sake I-"

"Fuck me, Soap, do ye ever stop yapping?"

Johnny just grinned wider, unfazed by his senior's gruff behaviour. "Sorry, LT. Lead the way."

Simon decided he couldn't really shake him off that easy and was too tired to argue otherwise, so he just wordlessly got in his truck. He turned to see Johnny right at his heel, climbing beside him with a jump. Eager pup, Simon mused.

He knows if he were a few years, hell even a decade younger, he'd have shown the youngin a night he wouldn't have forgotten. His sexual prowess was a bit overbearing to old lovers, men and women alike, a fact his ex husband both loved and hated. He was known to last hours in bed; in a relentless pursuit of pleasure and pain, until his partners were breathless and sore. One of his exes was once rushed to the hospital, too, on account of certain, let's say, sex injuries, that had the entire ER blushing under their masks. It was safe to say he wasn't allowed to touch her for an entire month.

Now, sitting in the dim lighting of the bar in a greasy countertop right next to the ancient stereo, he stares at Johnny and maps his features in his brain. He'd never noticed the scar on his top lip that almost disappeared when he smiled, or that he had flecks of green dusted in those blue irises. He's rambling about some video game he's eager to try out, Simon couldn't be arsed really, but he realises that Johnny's brows tick upwards whenever he gets too excited and he makes the funniest face when he's being sarcastic about something the game developers have said.

"You got a bird waitin on you, boy?" Simon interrupts him, taking a long swig of his beer.

He'd never seen a grown man blush such a deep shade of red so quick.

Cute.

"Uh, no LT. Don't reckon I got the time, you know? The missions are just too stressful, and training usually takes up most of my day, ya know? I mean, some of these girls, LT, I wouldn't even know what to say, like, hey, I'm super tired most days because I'm in a super secret special ops force and My team gets sent to highly confidential locations regularly and oh, I could die too but no big deal, see ya soon, keep dinner ready for me? My hand does fine, thank you very much."

He's rambling now, clearly tipsy, and Simon quirks an eyebrow. "Who's talking about a relationship, Johnny? You could pick up literally anyone you want at this joint- shag 'em and leave 'em? Ever heard of no strings attached?"

Johnny ducks his head and Simon realises he's hit a nerve. Unlucky for Soap, Simon relishes in making boys like him squirm.

"I- I don't know how to say this but, eh fuck it, LT-- I haven't really fucked anyone, Like, ever? I know- I know what you're gonna say, boss, but I don't wanna hear it, okay; it just- never happened, yaknow? Fuck, I really do sound like a bumbling virgin but, fuck, LT, I-"

Simon decided to put the kid out of his misery and leaned forward to put his hands between Johnny's legs and grip at the stool he was sitting on. He effortlessly slid him closer and Johnny squeaked in surprise but instantly shut up as Simon bracketed his thighs with his own and placed one large palm on his jeans, frighteningly close to his bulge.

"It's okay, kid. Stop overthinking."

The heat from Simon's palm burnt a hole through his jeans and Johnny felt a bit lightheaded. He raised his hand and slowly traced the gold wedding band on Simon's ring finger. It felt like both a reminder of his experience and a taunt- he belongs to someone else.

"He left me a year ago," Simon says softly, making Johnny shift in his seat. "Wasn't exactly- husband material, you could say."

This was the first time Johnny had ever heard about his lieutenant's private life, and also, maybe, the first time Johnny was silent for so long. He stared into Simon's eyes, eagerly swallowing every word that left his scarred lips.

"I couldn't sleep for months. The Paris job almost killed me, and Parker couldn't take it anymore. He'd begged me to retire, take a desk job, anything. I refused. Said we needed the money. I woke up the next morning with his side of the bed empty and a note that said his lawyers would contact me soon. No goodbye."

Johnny raised his palm and cupped the side of Simon's cheek. He just stared back with an intensity that made something stir low in his belly.

"I want to take you back to my house. Strip you of all your clothes, and lay you in my bed. Dismantle your thoughts until all your pretty brain can think about is me. I want you to go limp in my arms and beg me to stop. Do you want that, kid?"

Johnny could feel himself nodding desperately, mouth agape, before his mind could even catch up to his actions. He swallowed roughly, his heartbeat pounding in his ears. Is this really happening?

"W-wait. Simon, Simon."

Simon was half dragging him out of the bar already but he slowed down to look at him. "What, pup? Something wrong?"

Pup. The word made his dick twitch in his pants but Johnny braved through, " Simon, are you sure? Like, absolutely sure?"

Simon scoffed. Poor boy doesn't know what he's getting into.

He tugs him further and leads him into the truck, wordlessly getting into the drivers seat. "I meant what I said. I'll make it good for you, kid, I promise. Is this what you want? Think about it, we've got the whole ride back."

Johnny nods and looks at his side profile as he drives them to his house. He wants this. He's tired of avoiding all physical contact because of the stupid voice in his brain- "you're not smart enough, you're not wanted, no one wants you, no one could want you". He knows Simon can make that go away, he can feel it in his bones. He knows his LT will take care of him. He feels braver than before and inches his fingers slowly over Simon's regulation khakis, almost palming his bulge.

"Behave."

One word, and Johnny freezes. He'd always been the perfect soldier, hanging onto his LTs voice. Not surprising that it would be the same outside the battlefield, too.

They reached the barracks in record time, Johnny almost breaking the seatbelt buckle in his eagerness. They reach Simon's door and Simon leads Johnny into the room. He's been here several times before but now? It feels like he's a newborn fawn stumbling into the world for the first time. He tries to be sexy and turns to look at Simon but he bumps his toe into the center table and curses, before deciding to just, sit his ass on the sofa and let Simon take the lead.

Simon observes the entire thing with a glint in his eyes, desire stirring low in his belly. He closes the gap between them and sits on the floor in between Johnny's open legs. He places both hands on his thighs, leans up close to his face, and he can almost see Soap's neurons short circuit at his proximity.

"You don't have to do this, lad. No hard feelings".

Johnny whines low in his throat and grabs Simon by the nape of his neck. He jerks forward and clumsily presses his lips onto Simon's, and they both groan at how right it feels. Simon lets him lead the pace, explore what feels good and what doesn't. His tongue wearily circles his own and Simon sucks on it gently, making Johnny gasp. His hands run themselves into that goddamn mohawk, scraping at the buzz cut and massaging the scalp there. Johnny all but melts under the watchful care of Simon, and almost forgets what he was actually here for. Well, until Simon used one hand to press into the bulge that's straining against his pants and Johnny gasps.

"Go to the bedroom, kid. Take off your clothes and wait for me, yeah? Can you do that?"

Johnny nods eagerly and all but sprints to the single bedroom, making Simon scoff out a laugh. He enters the bare room and frantically takes off his clothes, but something in the bedside table catches his eye.

A framed photo of Simon and another man, in front of the Sydney Opera House. Both had matching grins, and Simon looked a good ten years younger. They were wrapped in a tight embrace and looking at the camera like nothing else mattered, because it didn't. They had each other and everything would be okay.

"It's been quite some time, John." Simon's quiet voice seemed to echo in the tiny space and Johnny almost jumps. His broad biceps encircle around his waist completely and Simon rests his chin on Johnny's shoulder, inhaling at his neck. "Don't dwell on the past. I know I don't."

John turns around in his grasp and looks at him longingly. "I don't want to make this sappy, Lt, but I think I'm a bit scared".

Simon nods, as if he had already anticipated it. He knows, he always knows. He's his lieutenant, his leader, his friend. He'd know what he's thinking, what he's feeling before he even frames it in his head. Soap knows that, and he would leap from a cliff if it was what Simon wanted, only because he knows Simon would be on the other side to catch him.

"I want you to touch yourself for me. Can you do that? Can you show me how you make yourself feel good?"

Simon lays him down on the bed and kisses him so deeply it makes his breath stop in his chest. His tongue delves into Johnny's mouth as his hands grip his waist, his hips, palming everything he could get his hands on. He pulls away and a string of spit connects their lips. Johnny looks fucked out already and Simon feels his heart thud louder.

Johnny nods along with him, humming low in the back of his throat as he slips a hand over his dick- fuck, it was as hard as a rock already. He rubs the head with his palm as Simon drops his head low to watch his motions. Johnny continues pumping his hips into his closed fist, increasing the pace frantically and panics when he realises he's so, so close already. His precum was making the entire ordeal so sticky, and Simon's intense stare wasn't helping his case.

"Kid, slow down, come on, easy, baby. Yeah, that's it." Simon places his hand over Soap's and guides him into a slower, more languid pace. His head felt syrupy, his stomach cramping already with how hard he's clenched it. He doesn't think he'll last any longer when Simon bends down and licks his tip gingerly.

"Fuck, FUCK Si, I-" he grabs onto Simon's head with both hands and almost smothers him by shoving his entire length into his mouth. Simon doesn't even gag, that fucker, and starts sucking his cock, making it so sloppy, so loud, Johnny doesn't think he'll survive this. The sight is downright obscene- Drool drops down the side of his mouth and his lips form a tight suction as he bobs his head up and down and up and down and up -

"I think I'm comin- fuckfuckfuckfuck,"

Simon pushes him further into his throat just as he climaxes, and Johnny gets tears in his eyes at how well Simon's throat clenches his cockhead. He doesn't know how long he's coming for, but knows that Simon doesn't let up for one second, constantly licking and laving at his dick and working him through the orgasm right into the territory of sweet oversensitivity. He's about to push his head away when one of Simon's thick fingers circle his asshole, and Soap feels like he's ascended.

"Is this where you want me, little pup? Do you want me to stretch you open, fill you till you're leaking with my cum? You wanna cry tonight?"

Soap sobs in agreement, fisting the bedsheet and twisting his torso to escape the pleasure as Simon pops the lid of the lube and generously pours over his taint and shaft. He pumps a finger in cautiously, making Johnny's breath catch lightly, huffing out tiny breaths to regulate himself.

"Breathe, kid. That's it, you're doing so good for me. I'm gonna bend my fingers just so, yeah? Oh- oh, is that the spot? Yeah, baby? Is that your happy spot?"

Simon's fingers hook inside in a way that makes them hit his prostate so deliciously- Johnny screams and bows his entire body up off the bed. Simon has to use his other hand to keep him pinned down and chuckles, starting to pump even harder. His fingers stretch and fill him, making him pant like a dog in heat now. He thinks he's going to come again, but he's not sure that's anatomically possible.

"Si, please, I need you, oh, I need you inside me, I need your cock, pleasepleaseplease Simon, I can't come like this, I-"

"Okay, okay, baby, breathe, breathe, yeah, my good boy wants my cock? Huh? I'll give it to you, I'll give you anything, fuck."

He pours some extra lube over his dick while his other hand continues to fuck into Johnny's tight hole. He caresses his dick slowly, thoroughly coating every inch in the sticky lube and slowly notches himself right up against Soap's asshole.

Feeling the blunt head against himself makes Johnny zero in on the moment; as if everything's faded away and it's just him, and just Simon, and there's nothing in between. They don't need to say anything, don't need more reasons to delay, and Johnny nods once, his eyes tearing up slightly. Simon understands- he bends forward to interlace his hands with Soap's and kisses him so so sweetly as he pushes inside.

The moan that leaves Soap could only be described as pornographic, as he feels every inch, every ridge and every vein breach his virgin hole. He stutters into the kiss, almost babbling as Simon grits his teeth together and powers through the tight embrace.

"Holy shit, kid, you're so tight."

"You're so big, sir".

Simon grips the back of his neck tighter and slightly massages the skin there, making Soap melt and relax a bit further. The last inch was the most difficult, Simon's girth found it almost impossible to make his rim stretch further, the sight of it so perverse it made Simon's mouth water.

"Let me on top, sir. I can take it."

Simon didn't really have the energy or the will to argue and effortlessly switched positions such that Johnny was on top and his dick never even slipped out.

"Go easy, yeah? I don't want you to hurt yourself"

Johnny nods with newfound vigor and plants both his feet on the bed, giving Simon a show for the ages. He takes a deep breath and lets gravity do most of the work as he slams himself down the last inch, right upto the thick base of Simon's god like member.

"Holy fuck, kid. I told you to go easy." He admonishes, but there's no real bite in it.

Soap grins, and oh, there's my boy, Simon thinks, "Sorry Lt. I'll be, fuck, more careful".

He starts a decadent rhythm, making both of them roll their eyes and moan loudly, neighbours be damned. It feels like heaven, like coming home after a long day at work, like the first sip of water after a hangover.

He realises soon enough that bouncing on his cock feels better than the grinding, and this knowledge makes Simon grip onto his hips tighter to help him along. Soap has his head thrown back, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth and onto his chest, eyes rolled into his skull. Look so perfect, Simon thinks. My boy.

His pace gets harder and faster and Simon realises he's not going to last longer. "Come for me, Johnny. Paint me with your cum, baby."

His hips stutter as he releases a whorish moan, probably waking up the entire base as he climaxes all over Simon's chest, his belly, heck some even went up to his face. He holds onto Simon's arms that were around his hips and crashes his lips onto his. This sets Simon off as he pumps once, twice, and buries himself deep in his ass and comes hard. They're both shaking and groaning, the kiss sloppy with sweat and spit, and their orgasms melting into each other's.

After a long time, Johnny pulls apart and stares into Simon's eyes. Those big, beautiful eyes that made him feel like home. They were slightly dazed and not all coherent and Johnny just grins.

"Let's do that again, sir."

[stellargh0ul]

Hey! This is my first tumblr request ^^I’m not sure if you write platonic fics so feel free to ignore this! I’ve been scavenging the web for platonic fics for years 🥀

But could you maybe write something where there’s a young sibling of sin who can’t sleep due to anxiety and frater comforts them? It can be gender neutral too. I find it hard to sleep at night and copia is such a comfort character to me and I would be totally read it with a face like this “😸”

Okay I’m sort of rambling now but that’s basically it :P

Tysm^^

I do platonic a lot actually! I'd say it's about 50/50ish, but i'm always happy to do them. I went with a child, since you said young and i'm a sucker for a man who's good with kids.

-

he isn’t expecting the movement outside his office door in the middle of the night to be a child.

Copia looks up from his desk and peers at the door, squinting as though he’d seen wrong. a curious face again peers around the corner, poking into the room to catch a peek at what he’s doing.

when it sees Frater Imperator looking back at them, the child freezes in place. they stare at each other for several long seconds, locked in a stalemate, before he sighs and goes to get up from behind his desk.

the movement seems to break the spell and the child goes running, little bare feet smacking against the marble-tiled floor. but Copia can be quick when he wants to be and he’s at the door mere moments later, calling for the child to stop.

luckily for him- his quickness does not extend to running more than a few feet- the child listens to him. they’re wearing a set of black pajamas, the kinds the novice siblings of sin are given to sleep in, and while he doesn’t recognize their face from around the Ministry, that means little. there were always children in need of a home arriving.

“i’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be out of bed,” the child says, their eyes fixed on the hem of Copia’s robes as he walks up beside them. “I was… I couldn’t sleep so I went for a walk. but I got lost…”

“come then,” Frater Imperator says, holding his hand out to the child. he doesn’t think they look older than eight. “I’ll take you back to bed.”

the little hand is small in his as they go. Copia doesn’t say much- he doesn’t know this child and doesn’t know what would be comforting to them, but from the way they’re clinging on to his hand, they must have been wandering lost for a while. long enough that they’d been frightened.

“how are you liking the ministry so far?” he asks as they walk and the little child starts before they glance up at him.

“everyone is very nice to me. and the other kids have been nice too.”

“good, good. I am glad to hear this. if you ever have a problem with them, tell them that Frater Imperator will come and set them straight again.”

the child nods emphatically.

“you’re Frater Imperator?”

“I am.”

he has, for a moment, the same sort of feeling he got seeing children when he was Papa Emeritus IV- this child obviously looks up to him.

“…can I ask you a question, Frater?”

“of course.”

quiet, for a long moment. they’re nearly at the children’s dorms so he slows his steps to allow this child time to think.

“…do you ever worry about stuff?”

“do I ever worry about what kind of stuff…?”

“…just, I don’t know. stuff. like, everything.”

he purses his lips, looking down at his small companion.

“…I worry about a lot of things. there is a lot to do to keep the Ministry running. but you, my friend, you are a child. you should not have so many worries that they keep you awake at night.”

the child cringes and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head.

“…I can’t help it.”

“alright. how about this- in exchange for walking you back to the dorms, you do something for me.”

“what do you want me to do?”

he kneels so that they’re face to face, bringing their hands together tightly.

“tell the sister in the morning about your anxieties, alright? perhaps she can help you. perhaps we can figure out something so that a child like you doesn’t have to wander around at night worrying.”

“…okay, Frater.”

“good. this is where we’ll say good night now, alright, dear?”

he gestures towards where the children’s wing starts and the child lights up, nodding emphatically.

“thank you!”

“it was no trouble. if you do find yourself wandering at night again, you are always welcome in my office. I am usually awake.”

he watches the child head back into the halls of the dorms for a moment longer before turning to head back to his office. his own worries are still pressing.

[tawghasa]

I endorse all of this.

I had to change careers in my early 30s (grant-gunded research scientist + four years of no grants in my speciality = redundancy with no hiring opportunities). Here are a few things I learned from that journey:

Consider doing the same job for a different employer. I spent 5 years working for a lab that, in retrospect, had a really terrible workplace culture. I got a position in another lab in the same institute, and the experience was a LOT better.

(It was still rough at times, due to the bullshit I had internalised clashing with similar bullshit my lab supervisor had internalised. But I cried in the bathrooms WAY less.)

There can be a LOT of jobs that are tangentially related to your current job, that no one in your current job is really aware of. Or if they are aware, they overestimate the barriers to getting there.

(E.g., I moved from medical research into intellectual property. I assumed that you would need some kind of legal background for that... But nope!)

On a related note, be sceptical of any career advice you get from people at your hell-job. If they haven't gotten out themselves, they are sharing conjecture, not facts.

Most people have bad resumes and weak cover letters/responses to selection criteria. I highly recommend checking out Askamanager.org, in particular this masterpost of advice for resumes and cover letters. Alison also has a guide for preparing for job interviews that I've used with success (it's free when you sign-up to her mailing list. I think I've gotten maybe two e-mails in the six years since I signed up to get the free pdf).

Being older can be a benefit in the workplace. Some recent hires at my job are in their 50s, and were REALLY surprised they made the cut... But they both have so much experience under their belts, they're very familiar with the norms of a 9-to-5 job, etc. (They're also less likely to look for another job before they retire than younger hires.)

Also, you just know more stuff. You have more experience in having a job, talking to people, doing things. You have more years under your belt of troubleshooting, finding easier workflows, cleaning up messes.

E.g., I hated my time in retail but I know a LOT about how to talk to people: how to give someone bad news without them yelling at me, how to tell them they stuffed up without them yelling at me, how to tell them I stuffed up without them yelling at me...

I have an excellent phone manner and a "customer-centric commitment to issue resolution" which has been a huge asset in both of my post-retail careers - but neither of those jobs had any kind of intentional training/mentoring in those areas! Those are skills I developed in THE shittiest supermarket in South Australia while developing bone damage in my feet because I was standing for 10 hours a day.

A few other bits of advice:

It's hard to be productive outside of work when you work a terrible job that is corroding your soul. It's hard to write a good resume/apply to further education/whatever when you hate your job and you're exhausted and everything is pointless. Don't beat yourself up if it takes longer than you'd like to get anything done.

Make things easier for yourself by asking for/accepting help. Use the Ask A Manager resources, ask friends and family (ideally ones who have jobs they like) to help you with your job search and your application materials.

(Are we mutuals? Do you want some help with a resume? Send me a DM. I can also hop on a Discord call and chat with you about interview prep and technique.)

Try to start prepping now, BEFORE the dream opportunity crosses your path. It's easier to have an up-to-date master resume that you can tailor to the role, than to scramble to pull one together the night applications close.

Reddit can actually be really helpful. There are subreddits for a lot of careers/industries, with posts every few months asking how to either break in or get out. They can also be a good place to ask what the day-to-day is like in a career you're thinking of switching to, which can help you identify any skills you already have that would be an asset/consider whether you'd enjoy the reality of the job. Keep in mind that it's all subjective, and no two people's experiences will be the same.

If you've read this far, try to find time to update your resume this weekend. Even if you like your current job. (That's usually the best time to look at other jobs - you're not desperate, so you're in a strong position to negotiate any offers.) Because if you've read this far through a thread about changing jobs/careers, you're probably interested on some level in doing the thing.

I’m thinking of doing a complete career switch- or at the very least, making an attempt to start it- and the idea is frightening for so many reasons- money, feeling like I’m behind, insecurity, family- but then i think of just sticking to the path I’m on and it sends me into a crying fit so. I think I’m going to have to be brave

Be brave! I changed industries at age 41 and it was so good for both my career and mental health.

It sounds silly to have to outright say, but if the thought of going to your current job makes you cry every day, it is time to LEAVE. You are not the first person I have had to give this advice to this week. The longer you stay in a dead-end job, the more your skills will rust and the inertia will drag you down.

It feels frightening, but you can get through the imposter syndrome by becoming a thorough note taker (assuming you are white collar, but a lot of this also applies to blue):

Capture every conversation you have

Immediately distill meetings and emails into to-do lists

Review your to-dos daily

Most importantly: write down your accomplishments, no matter how small, at the end of every week

Notes by hand helped me so much, and my little treat to keep going was to begin a fresh mini-notebook every 2 weeks, which I could decorate with ink stamps and washing tape. I used a different color gel pen every day, too. My notebooks were fun and super helpful with keeping me organized.

You will catch up soon enough. It sucks to be an older person in a junior role, but you will be more mature and hopefully adept at handling work drama. I hit senior at age 47 after doing my time, and now I'm pretty indistinguishable from the folks who beat me here.

People aren't meant to do the same thing for all their lives, if it means sacrificing other opportunities. It's ok to say goodbye to a career or hobby or whatever else, to make room for something new. Don't feel guilty sampling from life. Specialization is for insects.

[namelessgoose]

Travel related headcanons for the papas! ✈️🌴

I started these when I had down time traveling a while back and I just remembered I did that so I finished it up and yeah!! This is my first time writing out something like this to post so … be nice 😅

Nihil:

- He throws a bunch of random things in his bag with no sense of organization and then needs someone else to fix it for him and will complain about how they organize it because “he had a system” (there was no system)

- He takes his sweet time in the TSA line, no sense of urgency at all. If his bag gets stopped he immediately starts arguing.

- On the actual trip, he cannot stick to a schedule, he’s the least punctual person in existence.

Primo:

- He’s very preplanned and organized without having to put in much effort. He’s able to pack right before he leaves and packs pretty minimally.

- His bags get through TSA easily, that’s not to say that he doesn’t have anything illegal on him. He has his ways. Don’t worry about it!

- HATES airports. Too many loud people who can’t figure out how to do simple things.

- He doesn’t do anything on the plane. He just sits there. What’s he thinking about? Who knows.

- His trips are generally for business only, he doesn’t enjoy traveling very much. Though, he will stop to see the nature of the area if there’s some.

Secondo:

- Secondo is absolutely an overpacker, but denies it completely. But not in the “i’m bringing 10 pairs of underwear just in case I shit my pants every single day” way, no. Like he’s bringing 5 different kinds of cologne and way too many outfit choices (thinking about that one picture where he’s in that very eccentrically decorated room that was scrapped from Papaganda i believe) And he is able to give serious rationale for everything he brings.

- Hates airports just as much as Primo. His bag gets stopped at TSA every time without fail for absolutely no reason.

- I don’t think he travels much outside of clergy duties BUT if he has to go on a trip for business, he absolutely makes the most out of it… he might get a bit distracted and not fulfill some of the business duties.

Terzo:

- Terzo is packed and planned WELL in advance. He knows exactly what he’s wearing everyday and has alternate outfits depending on the weather. He has all of his essentials and his bag is well organized. He always makes reservations with timed out schedules, but isn’t afraid to deviate from the plan to do what he feels like at that moment.

- Though, he really doesn’t like planes. Not that he’s scared of them, the elevation just gives him a headache. He brings a book to read to try to distract himself, but it usually doesn’t work very well.

- Even if a trip is technically for business, he’s able to make the absolute best of it. I think he’d like to travel for pleasure as well. Honestly, I think he would be the best to travel with.

Copia:

- Unlike Secondo, he is definitely the “packing 10 pairs of underwear just in case i shit my pants every single day” type of packer. Overpacks because you never know what could happen. And even with his overpacking, he definitely forgets something essential and has to get it overpriced at the airport. He also procrastinates packing until the last minute which doesn’t help either.

- Doesn’t like sleeping at hotels. Hell, he has trouble sleeping at home. The cold and unfamiliar hotel room is definitely not going to help him out in that regard.

- He only travels for clergy business, so it’s all planned for him. He tries so hard to adhere to what he’s supposed to do that he stresses himself out. He’s able to get it all done though, despite the chaos.

- His ghouls make sure he lets himself relax and actually enjoy the trip at some point when there’s time so he’s not just overworking himself.

Perpetua:

ngl i don’t have a great grasp on his character yet, i can’t wait until i see him at my ritual!!!

- He seems like the type who comes off very planned and put together, but is totally just going off vibes.

- I have a feeling that those claws aren’t getting though TSA easily

Wow you made it to the end! I’m not really anticipating anyone really reading this lmao BUT if anyone wants any of these ideas developed some more or if you have any of your own travel related hcs for them, feel free to drop something in my ask box :3

[gemini-queen42]

I've seen ppl talk abt how its high time Ganondorf gets some gender fuckery, but it's in refference to since we've got a bit of it for both Zelda & Link in games so far [As much as one can ofc w/out actually including anything queer], but I haven't seen anyone mention the fact that Ganondorf is just already so *Primed* for it. Like Real Non-Binary Shenaniganery. He already kinda IS-

Lemme Elaborate:

It is long established that the Gerudo are female only, using males of other races/species to have children- those males never being accepted within Gerudo society and there is only one Male Gerudo every 100 years, who will be their king- which is Ganondorf.

The Gerudo do *Not* have a gender binary.

they have a gender Unary, based upon also having a Unary sex:

Women, females.

[Side note, this also kinda makes them genderless, as there cant be any social constructs of gender when those just apply to everyone, thus just being.. general social constructs. Anyways-]

See, the Gerudo have adopted the *language* Of the gender binary, as it applies to when they interact with the other hyrulian races/species- [Cultural Exchange ! ♡ ] but the actual ideas/"rules" of this gender binary, as social constructs, dont actually *Apply* to the Gerudo [At the very least/especially not Within Their Own & Not Interaction with the other Hyrulian Groups]

So, being a gerudo Man is not the same Gender as being a man in any other hyrulian group.

Because the other groups are working on a binary social constructs.

And the gerudo are Not.

This is not going to come out as succinct as I want but;

Being a gerudo Man is much closer to being in a higher role of religious/spiritual power/authority due to being intersex / nonbinary or Vice Versa - than being a man as we / other hyrulian groups think of it.

Like. It kind of literally *Is* that.

He is outside the Gerudo's main gender structure, he is a special case, places in a special role because of it.

He's non-Unary. Technically every Gerudo is non-binary, but that's also complicated-

Because they kind of have this synchratism thing going on with the rest of Hyrule's ideas of gender, and they both generally connect Gender with Biological Sex, so they share ideas there- and they've certainly blended their ideas of gender together to cohabitate and match things up linguistically- but like. It doesn't feel right to say theyre just.. working under the gender binary everyone else is. Because they're not.

I kind of want to compare it to Two-Spirt & Trans. Like they're understood easily through each other, because theyre kind of the same thing- but like. Also No. And Two-Spirit is very specifically a Native American Identity that is specific to Native American Culture [I'm sorry I don't Currently recall specific tribes the term is tied to its 2am for me as im writing this fjsjdjd]

The difference between Gerudo Gender & Other Hyrulian Genders is kind of like that. Except lacking distinguishing terminology. And like this is a kinda loose comparison and not exact but hopefully it helps you get what I mean?

So like yeah. Obvi the rest of Hyrule does not regard a male gerudo as being a seperate gender from any other man, and the gerudo barely do either- because theyre using the language of the binary, and they've fit him into it, and the rest of hyrule isnt really considering how gerudo gender doesn't work like theirs. So they dont acknowledge it.

And neither does Nintendo lmao

But he IS.

Because what does being a man *mean* in a culture of Only Women?

Not the same as in a culture of two genders.

Because one is an exception, an outlier - and the other is just one of two boxes.

Anyways FUN FACT I have a LoZ au / storyline in which I incorporate and explore all this!!! [I have made no other posts about it yet I'm sorry but PLEASE feel free to ask abt it if you're curious !!! ♡]

Ok thats it thanks for coming to my TEDtalk lmao

[simplyraeblue]

King and Captive

(Hunter and Hunted Spin-Off) read here

modern au a chance meeting with Sukuna quickly turns into a nightly routine you can't escape. as the lines between game and something more blur, you start to wonder—how long can you keep playing, or will Sukuna make you his next conquest? !Sukuna x !femreader

chapter warnings/tags: swearing, light drinking, MDNI, NSFW, slight SatoSugu, flustered Sukuna, light filler, suggestive talk but no smut, loosely edited but working myself up to it

A/N: AHHH I'm out of my funk guys! back to working on the three fics I've missed, but mostly this one! ◡̈ this is kind of a light and fun "filler" chapter to ease myself back into writing on the reg (it's been since March-ish...) but it's good development for our favorite brooding man ;)

index part eleven | part thirteen

part twelve word count: 4,139

It was a slow Saturday morning—the kind that wrapped around your limbs and begged you not to move. The room was quiet except for the occasional hum of traffic from outside and the steady, low breathing of the man next to you. 

Well, on you might’ve been a more accurate description. 

Sukuna had you trapped in what could only be described as a full-body headlock. One arm was slung across your waist, the other tucked beneath your neck, and his entire leg had claimed ownership of both of yours. You were immobilized. And, apparently, his personal body pillow. 

“I can’t feel my left foot,” you muttered. 

Sukuna stirred. “Mmh. That’s how you know it’s working,” he mumbled into your shoulder. 

“Working?” 

“Protective cuddling.” 

You groaned, managing to wiggle one arm free just in time for your phone to buzz loudly against the nightstand. The sudden noise made Sukuna twitch like a cat. 

You grabbed the phone and squinted at the screen. 

Gojo: Brunch at my place. 1pm. I’m making mimosas. Don’t be boring. 

Below it was a follow-up. 

Gojo: Also bring your boyfriend. He has to see the new espresso machine. It cost more than my car. (And yes, I know how that sounds) 

“You’re making that face,” Sukuna mumbled. 

“We're being summoned.” 

“To hell?” 

“Worse. Gojo’s place.” 

He groaned and flopped over dramatically. “Fuck that. He’s gonna try to kiss me again, isn’t he?” 

“Probably,” you replied cheerfully. “But there’ll be mimosas. And apparently, an espresso machine more expensive than a house down payment.” 

By the time you made it to Gojo’s apartment, you were once again reminded of the fact that his definition of “apartment” was apparently “sky palace.” The elevator opened directly into his penthouse, and the view alone was enough to give you imposter syndrome. Floor-to-ceiling windows, marble countertops, furniture that looked like it belonged in an art museum—not a coffee stain in sight. 

“Okay,” you whispered as you stepped in, “I need to know what Gojo actually does for a living.” 

Sukuna shot you a sideways glance. “I’ve been wondering that for years.” 

“Is it drugs? Does he sell black market diamonds? Are we... in the home of a glorified hitman?” 

“Would explain the knife set in the kitchen,” Sukuna deadpanned. 

Gojo appeared from around the corner wearing silk pajamas and his sunglasses, holding two champagne flutes. “Welcome to my humble abode.” 

“Humble?” you asked, eyebrows shooting up. “You have a wine fridge bigger than my closet.” 

“I deserve nice things,” Gojo said matter-of-factly. “And besides, I work hard.” 

“Doing what?” Sukuna challenged, arms crossed. 

Gojo took a long, dramatic sip of his mimosa. “Wouldn’t you like to know.” 

Before Sukuna to counter, the elevator chimed again. Saved by the damn bell. 

“Perfect timing,” Gojo grinned, arms spread as the doors slid open to reveal Geto, Uraume, Shoko, and Utahime—each with varying degrees of enthusiasm. 

Shoko was already halfway through a cigarette before she even stepped over the threshold. “I came for the booze and fancy soap” she declared, waving a small bottle of something suspicious.  

Utahime followed her, shooting Gojo a warning glare. “I swear, if you try to hug me—” 

“You love my hugs,” he said, arms wide and ignoring every ounce of her body language. “Come on, brunch is just breakfast with better aesthetic.” 

Geto sauntered in with two paper bags. “I brought croissants. And Uraume brought...whatever’s in that mystery Tupperware.” 

“Homemade quiche,” Uraume said simply, placing the container down and then promptly ignoring Gojo’s attempts to get a high-five. 

Sukuna watched all of them shuffle in like a bunch of dysfunctional sitcom characters—each playing their assigned roles—and then glanced sideways when Gojo slung a casual arm around your shoulder and guided you toward the mimosa station like you were royalty. 

“You gotta try the mango-passionfruit one,” Gojo said, beaming. “Made it myself. Not poisoned.” 

“I don’t know,” you laughed, sipping carefully. “I think I’d trust Shoko’s flask before I trust your experiments.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Shoko chimed in from across the room, “you’d just black out. I wouldn’t actually kill you.” 

The room buzzed with inside jokes and clinking glasses. You fit so effortlessly into this bizarre little group, laughing with Utahime one moment and teasing Geto the next. Sukuna couldn’t tear his eyes away from you. 

And he definitely didn’t notice the way Gojo kept brushing against your arm or leaning in to whisper something stupidly funny in your ear. Nope. Definitely didn’t notice. Not in the slightest. 

He took a long sip of his coffee and tried not to glare too obviously. 

“You alright there?” Geto asked from beside him, watching Sukuna’s eyes flick over to you for the sixth time in as many minutes. 

“I’m fine.” 

“Uh-huh.” Geto followed his gaze and smirked knowingly. “Jealous of Gojo?” 

Sukuna scoffed, nearly choking. “Of him? Never.” 

“Right,” Geto said dryly. “That’s why you’re staring at his hand on her back like it insulted your entire bloodline.” 

“It’s not like that,” Sukuna muttered, jaw tightening. “He’s just... he’s too friendly.” 

There was a brief pause. 

Then, Geto snorted under his breath and leaned back against the counter, sipping his drink. “You really are blind, aren’t you?” 

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed. “What the hell’s that supposed to mean?” 

Geto just shrugged, that same smug smirk playing on his lips as he looked away. “Nothing. Forget it.” 

Before Sukuna could push further, Uraume called across the room to ask if anyone knew where the hell Gojo kept the champagne flutes, and the moment passed. 

You weren't sure what you'd expected when Gojo invited everyone over for “brunch,” but it definitely wasn’t this. 

The table was almost too perfect—freshly baked croissants stacked beside a platter of sliced fruit and smoked salmon, little jam jars lined up like they’d been curated by a food stylist. Gojo, of course, was wearing sunglasses indoors, like the sun spilling through his penthouse windows was somehow too common for his eyes. 

“You know,” you said as you took your seat, “every time I step into this place, I wonder if you’re secretly a hitman.” 

“Or a sugar baby,” Sukuna added, stealing a strawberry off your plate without asking. 

Gojo gasped, feigning offense. “Excuse you! I am a man of mystery and class.” 

“He means escort,” Shoko deadpanned, sliding into her seat with a mimosa in hand. 

“Oh, come on,” Utahime said, barely containing her eye roll, “if Gojo’s a hitman, I’m the Queen of France.” 

Gojo twirled dramatically. “All hail, Queen Utahime!” 

She swatted at him with a rolled napkin, but even she couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. 

Meanwhile, Uraume stood at the island plating pancakes like a professional, barely sparing the rest of you a glance. “I’d believe the hitman theory. He’s never really explained where his money comes from.” 

“See? Uraume gets it,” you said, gesturing around. “Penthouse view, marble counters, imported espresso machine. You’re either laundering money or hosting black-market auctions in your free time.” 

Gojo winked. “I can neither confirm nor deny.” 

“You know what I think?” Geto chimed in from across the table. “I think he won the lottery, got bored, and now just reinvents himself every few months.” 

“That’s rich coming from the man who once tried to sell essential oils as a front for information brokering,” Shoko replied, sipping her drink coolly. 

“I made money,” Geto said with a shrug, “until your roommate tried to use lavender to cure food poisoning.” 

Utahime groaned. “That was one time. And it was peppermint.” 

You were laughing into your mimosa when Sukuna’s arm slid across the back of your chair, and Gojo immediately made a sound like a game show buzzer. “Whoa there, big guy. Save it for the afterparty.” 

“Shut your trap or I’m swapping your shampoo with hair remover,” Sukuna shot back, not even looking at him. 

“Yikes.” Geto chuckled into his coffee. “Can we at least make it through the eggs before threats of chemical warfare?” 

Uraume placed a stack of pancakes on the table and said, without missing a beat, “It’s too late for that. I already replaced his conditioner with dish soap.” 

Gojo gasped in betrayal. “Dammit, that’s why my ends feel crispy!” 

The table erupted again. 

Through all the laughter, you couldn’t help but glance around at everyone—Gojo leaning back with his stupid shades, Shoko already reaching for another drink, Geto lazily poking at a croissant like he wasn’t three mimosas in, Utahime arguing with Uraume about proper brunch etiquette while Sukuna just sat beside you, quietly watching it all unfold with something almost fond in his eyes. 

“So,” Gojo suddenly said, spinning his fork between his fingers. “Who’s ready for round two? I’ve got French toast in the oven and absolutely no limits on champagne.” 

“God help us,” Utahime muttered. 

“Oh, he stopped answering Gojo’s prayers years ago,” Geto said. 

“Probably blocked him,” you added with a grin. 

Gojo grinned wider. “Blocked me? Please. He follows me on private.” 

And somehow, that sent the whole table into hysterics again. 

- 

The aftermath of brunch was a scene of gentle chaos and warm comfort. 

Shoko and Utahime had left to go run their own errands, meanwhile you just wanted to be burrowed beneath a mountain of Gojo’s absurdly soft throw blankets—half of which were huge and fluffy. 

“Why do you even own that many blankets?” you asked, balancing a dish in one hand and a sponge in the other as you glanced over at the sofa. 

Gojo shrugged, sleeves rolled up, up to his elbows in suds. “A man must be prepared for any emotional crisis, snuggle emergency, or poorly-timed movie night.” 

“You say that like you didn’t abduct half of these from my apartment during winter break, asshole” Geto called from the balcony, exhaling a stream of smoke as Utahime stood beside him with a mimosa in hand. 

“You’re lucky I didn’t take your kettle too,” Gojo shot back. 

You snorted and shook your head, gently elbowing him as you passed another plate his way. 

At the bar, Sukuna sat with his chin resting in his palm, watching you with the most dramatic pout on his face—like a dog left outside the bakery window, nose to glass. Every few seconds, he’d sigh or shift pointedly, like you’d look over and suddenly feel guilty for… helping with dishes? 

“Are you seriously sulking because I’m cleaning?” you called over to him, raising an eyebrow. 

“No,” Sukuna muttered like a child. 

“Yes,” Gojo grinned, rinsing off a wine glass. “You’re gonna burn a hole in her shirt with how hard you’re staring. Just say you want attention, you overgrown menace.” 

“Don’t push me,” Sukuna warned flatly. 

“Oh please,” Gojo handed you a dishtowel and turned, drying his hands. “Hey, Sukuna, come here.” 

Sukuna looked wary, but stood anyway, shooting you a quick glance before following Gojo toward the hallway. As soon as they were out of sight, Gojo leaned against the wall, his usual smile dimming slightly. 

“You good?” he asked, softer now. 

Sukuna crossed his arms. “Fine.” 

“Don’t ‘fine’ me,” Gojo scoffed. “You’ve been grinding your teeth all afternoon like someone insulted your tattooing.” 

There was a pause. Then Sukuna sighed. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” 

“Being in love? Yeah, it’s scary. That’s the point.” 

“It’s not that,” Sukuna muttered. “I’m... not fucking used to this. Feeling like I have to be good at something I’ve never done right before. Caring without ruining it.” 

Gojo tilted his head. “You’re not ruining it. You’re trying. She sees that.” 

Sukuna looked down at his hands. “What if trying isn’t enough?” 

Gojo was quiet for a moment before clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Then you keep trying anyway. Because it’s her. And if it were anyone else, you would’ve burned out already.” 

Sukuna’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t disagree. 

“Besides,” Gojo smirked again, “you know I’d kill you if you messed this up.” 

“Yeah,” Sukuna huffed. “You and everyone else.” 

They stood there in silence for a beat. 

Then, Sukuna shifted, arms still crossed as he glanced sideways at Gojo. “Can I ask you something without you turning it into a stand-up routine?” 

Gojo smirked. “Unlikely, but shoot.” 

Sukuna hesitated. “Why are you so… friendly with her? Like, extra friendly.” 

Gojo blinked. Then blinked again. And then burst out laughing. “Oh my god. You’re jealous.” 

“I’m not jealous.” Sukuna scowled. “I just think the lines get kind of blurred with you sometimes. You flirt with anything that breathes.” 

“Well, I’ll have you know, I’m a very charming and emotionally available person,” Gojo said proudly, clasping his hands over his heart. 

Sukuna continued before he could really lose his patience. “I’m not accusing you of anything. You’ve just always been real touchy, and she laughs at all your shit jokes—” 

“Which are objectively funny, by the way—” 

“Shut up. I’m saying I don’t get it. You don’t act like that with just anyone. So, what the hells your deal?” 

Gojo’s lips twitched like he was holding back a laugh, but then he tilted his head slightly. “C’mon, you really don’t know?” 

“Don’t play games,” Sukuna warned, eyes narrowing. 

Gojo was quiet for a moment. Then he leaned closer, dropped his voice low like he was about to confess a war crime. “Okay, listen. But you gotta promise not to die of shock or start crying.” 

“Spit it out, Gojo.” 

He grinned. “I’m in love.” 

The words hit Sukuna like a sucker punch. His brain stalled for half a second. Then he scoffed, unsure whether to laugh or roll his eyes. “Bullshit. You?” 

Gojo just smiled, slower this time. More certain. “Dead serious.” 

“With her?” 

“What? No.” Gojo wrinkled his nose like the idea was offensive. “She’s like—platonic sunshine. I’d die for her, but I’m not in love with her.” 

Sukuna narrowed his eyes. “Then who the hell are you talking about?” 

Gojo gave him a meaningful look. No answer, just the look. 

And then it clicked. 

“Wait,” Sukuna said, his voice quiet. “No.” 

Gojo said nothing. 

“Geto?” 

The grin that bloomed across Gojo’s face told him everything. 

“Holy shit,” Sukuna breathed, stunned. “You’re in love with Geto?” 

“Have been for years,” Gojo said like it was no big deal, like he hadn’t just broken Sukuna’s brain in half. “But don’t worry, he’s well aware. He kissed me first.” 

“You… what—how did I not—What the fuck?” 

“I think the real question is: how did everyone know but you?” 

And suddenly, Sukuna heard Geto’s voice echo in his memory: “You really are blind, aren’t you?” 

“Oh my god,” Sukuna groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “He meant that?” 

Gojo clapped him on the back. “Takes you a while, huh? Don’t worry, it’s cute.” 

Sukuna stared at him. “I don’t know what’s worse—this conversation or the fact that I thought you were flirting with my girlfriend.” 

“Oh, I was,” Gojo said cheerfully. “But only because it made you squirm.” 

Sukuna shoved him off with a muttered curse and stalked back toward the kitchen. “I’m never having a serious conversation with you again.” 

Gojo followed, whistling as he went. “You say that now…” 

Sukuna returned to the kitchen with the expression of a man who had just been drop-kicked by fate itself. His steps were heavy, a bit too stiff, and his face— 

“Oh my god,” you blinked. “Why are you red? Did Gojo try to kiss you again or something?” 

He didn’t answer, just pulled open the fridge with more force than necessary, pretending to be very invested in the orange juice he clearly had no intention of drinking. Behind him, Gojo strolled in like the embodiment of smugness, practically glowing. 

“Seriously,” you said, eyebrows furrowing. “What the hell did he say? Sukuna. Babe.” 

No response. Gojo whistled innocently, pouring himself water with the grace of a man who’d just set a building on fire and was waiting to admire the flames. 

“Ryomen.” You poked Sukuna’s arm. 

He didn’t even glance at you. 

“Ryo,” you repeated, poking again. 

“Nothing,” he muttered. “It was nothing.” 

You stepped closer, arms crossed now. “Your entire face is red and Gojo is practically vibrating. That’s not nothing.” 

“I swear to God,” Sukuna grumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?” 

“Not even a little.” 

Gojo leaned against the wall and sipped his water with a theatrical slurp. “Tell her, Suku. C’mon. I won’t even interrupt.” 

Sukuna shot him a look, then turned to you with a resigned sigh. “Fine. He told me…” he trailed off, rubbing the back of his neck. “He told me he’s in love with Geto.” 

Your blink was slow. “Wait. That’s it?” 

“That’s it?!” Sukuna repeated, aghast. “How the fuck are you not shocked?!” 

You didn’t answer right away. 

Because you were laughing. Hard. 

You doubled over against the counter, your hand slapping the marble as you cackled. “You—you didn’t know?!” 

Sukuna looked offended. “You knew?!” 

“Everyone knows!” you managed to choke out between laughs. “God, Geto literally looks at him like he hung the moon! Gojo acts like a walking disaster until he walks into a room and sees him and suddenly, he’s on his best behavior.” 

“And no one told me?!” 

Gojo shrugged, his grin widening. “To be fair, I thought you knew. You’re not exactly the most emotionally observant person.” 

Sukuna grumbled something too low for you to catch, but you leaned over and kissed his cheek anyway. “Don’t worry. You’re good at other things.” 

Gojo snorted behind you. “Like being the last to know.” 

Sukuna swiped a kitchen towel off the counter and chucked it at him. 

It missed. Barely. 

“I hate this damn group,” Sukuna muttered, but there was the faintest smile tugging at the edge of his mouth. 

You smiled too, bumping his hip with yours as you turned back to finish rinsing the dishes. “It’s okay. You’re pretty when you’re confused.” 

“I’m rethinking this whole relationship.” 

Gojo shot finger guns as he walked away. “You can’t. You’re in love.” 

“Shut up, Gojo.” 

Geto and Uraume reentered the penthouse just as you handed Sukuna a dish towel, still grinning at his half-glowering, half-flustered state. Uraume looked entirely too refreshed from the balcony, while Geto’s eyes scanned the kitchen like he was expecting chaos—and clearly, he found exactly what he was hoping for. 

“Alright,” Geto drawled, raising a brow as he kicked off his shoes. “Why does Sukuna look like he just walked in on a telenovela plot twist?” 

Uraume glanced between the three of you, instantly picking up on the vibe. “Did Gojo say something stupid again?” 

“Again?” you echoed, giggling. “More like… something overdue.” 

Sukuna groaned and dropped his head onto his forearm on the counter. “I hate you all.” 

You leaned back against the counter, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of your mouth as you pointed a thumb toward the very flustered, very red-faced man beside you. 

“Sukuna just found out about you two,” you announced, loud and clear, voice practically ringing through the apartment. 

“Oh my god,” Geto’s eyes widened as realization hit. “You just found out?” 

Uraume let out a rare bark of laughter. “Wait. Seriously?” 

You nodded enthusiastically. “Yup. Gojo pulled him aside all dramatically, and now Sukuna’s life is forever changed.” 

Geto leaned against the island with an amused smirk, folding his arms across his chest. “I wish I’d been in the room for that. How did he even say it?” 

Gojo, now sprawled upside down on the couch like a lazy cat, called out from the living room, “Like a gentleman, thank you.” 

Geto turned back to the group and mimed a swooning sigh, placing a hand on his chest. “Ah, to relive the memory. He cornered me here one night, when I’d stayed too late, holding a single flower—a daisy, of all things—and said, ‘I think I’m in love with you, and if you laugh, I will throw myself off this balcony’” 

You howled with laughter, Sukuna muttering something into the countertop that sounded like, “Jesus Christ.” 

“Did he actually have a daisy?” you asked, wide-eyed. 

“Oh yeah,” Geto said, deadpan. “Stole it from a neighbor’s potted plant. Still had dirt on the stem.” 

“True love,” Uraume rolled their eyes, pouring themself another mimosa as if this was all completely normal. 

Sukuna lifted his head just enough to glare at them all. “Am I the only one here who’s concerned this is what passes for a functioning relationship?” 

“No,” Uraume said, sipping. “But we’ve stopped trying to fight it.” 

“Besides,” Geto added, nudging Sukuna with his elbow, “you’re just mad because you didn’t have a daisy.” 

Sukuna straightened and deadpanned, “I swear to God if I ever bring you a flower, it’ll be poison-tipped.” 

“And that’s how I know you care,” Geto replied with a wink. 

You leaned against Sukuna’s shoulder with a grin, slipping your hand into his. “Don’t worry. You’ve got other ways of being romantic. Like showing up at my work and threatening to rip someone’s spine out.” 

Sukuna smirked. “See? That’s love.” 

Uraume sighed into their glass. “This group is emotionally stunted.” 

“Speak for yourself,” Gojo called out. “I’m thriving!” 

“You stole a daisy,” Geto said over his shoulder. 

“AND confessed my feelings. Growth.” 

Sukuna shook his head, squeezing your hand gently. “I’m in hell.” 

You kissed his cheek, beaming. “You love it here.” 

“…maybe.” 

Gojo, ever the agent of chaos and incapable of letting a tender moment settle for too long, leaned forward on the couch grinning like the devil himself. “Sooooo… speaking of grand declarations of love,” he sang, wiggling his fingers playfully in the air. “Sukuna, have you had your mushy little confession yet?” 

You froze and felt the heat explode across your face like a detonation. “Gojo—” 

Sukuna stood ramrod straight, shoulders tensing so fast you’d think someone pulled a pin from his spine. “What the hell kind of question is that?” 

Geto turned slowly, a wicked grin curling across his lips. “Oh… oh. That means no.” 

Uraume paused mid-sip, eyes flicking between you both like they were watching a car crash in slow motion. “Seriously?” 

Gojo gasped. “You’ve been fucking for months, and no one’s dropped the L-bomb yet?” 

“Gojo, shut up,” you and Sukuna snapped in perfect unison—your voices too high-pitched to sound truly threatening. 

Geto let out a low whistle. “Damn. I thought you two were sneaking off to say it like teenagers behind the bleachers.” 

“We’re not—what—no! We’re just—” You flailed for a reasonable excuse that didn’t sound like total emotional cowardice. “Timing! You can’t rush that stuff!” 

Sukuna, cheeks blooming red, rubbed at the back of his neck like he could scrub the awkwardness away. “Not everything has to be a romcom, Gojo.” 

Gojo ignored him entirely, practically vibrating. “Okay but imagine the possibilities. You on a rooftop. Rain. A soft piano ballad playing in the distance. You take a hand and whisper—” 

“I swear to god if you finish that sentence, I will punt you off the balcony.” Sukuna growled, eyes sharp despite his burning ears betraying him. 

Uraume looked far too amused, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “It’s kind of endearing watching the two most emotionally constipated people alive squirm.” 

“Truly,” Geto added, tossing a grape into his mouth like it was popcorn. “But now I’m invested. Who’s gonna say it first?” 

“No one’s saying it first!” Sukuna barked. 

“Why not?” Gojo pouted. 

“Because we’re—fine the way we are!” Sukuna crossed his arms in protest, glaring at everyone but mostly the air because he refused to look at you. 

You were trying to hide your face behind your hands now, muffling your laughter and shame. “Please stop. I’m gonna die.” 

“No dying,” Uraume replied dryly, “We still need to watch whatever movie Gojo forced us to vote on.” 

“Something tragic and romantic,” Gojo said dreamily, already queuing up titles. “Maybe Titanic. Get you two in the mood to finally break the silence.” 

“I will end you,” Sukuna muttered, dragging a hand down his face. 

You peeked up at him through your fingers, still blushing furiously. “For what it’s worth…” you said quietly, “I don’t need a rooftop or rain. You just have to mean it.” 

Sukuna’s gaze flicked to yours. Despite the teasing and the laughter ... everything softened for just a second. 

“…Yeah,” he said under his breath. “Me too.” 

“Did he just say it?!” 

“Roll credits!” 

“I hate all of you.” 

“Looooove you too, Suku!” 

You reached over and laced your fingers with his. 

And in response, Sukuna gave your hand three light, consecutive, squeezes. He hoped you didn’t notice, but to him... it signified the three words he was too scared to say aloud.  

⊹. ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊

taglist : @mangiswig @sorahatake @osohchoso @clp-84 @sterzin @csolya @emochosoluvr @aldebrana @ravester @marie-is-in-the-dark @makingtimemine

[kotton-kandy953]

❏ 𝐒𝐎 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐅𝐔𝐋 !

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 love interest ꒱ . . . yandere ! vampire ! dahlia x religious ! fem ! reader

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 format ꒱ . . . oneshot

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 warnings ꒱ . . . blood (lots of it), death, kinda non-con?, obsessive behavior, possibly ooc dahlia, very religious reader, violence, yandere themes

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 synopsis ꒱ . . . In which vampires hidden in the shadows roam the walls of Mondstadt. And unfortunately for you, an innocent deaconess, one of those sinful creatures is in love with you.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 authors note ꒱ . . . I remember when Dahlia was first leaked there were a lot of theories about him being a vampire and I LOVE that idea. also, Ive been watching vampire diaries for the past few months so I NEEDED to write a fic about vamps as soon as possible.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🔪 word count ꒱ . . . 2.3k

Vampires. They were wretched, evil and demonic creatures. The mutated corpses of the dead lurk only in the night to feast on the blood of poor, unsuspecting humans.

No one knows how vampires multiply, nor how to tell them apart from other humans. The only way to kill one of the vile creatures is either through fire, decapitation, exposure to the sunlight, or a wooden stake to the heart.

Well, at least that’s what the church has been telling you for your entire life.

Vampires did exist and did lurk in the streets of Mondstadt at night, although their attacks are more common outside the city in surrounding areas such as Wolvendom or Dadaupa Gorge.

It’s ironic that you know all of this information despite never actually seeing one of the monsters for yourself. Actually, you see it as a blessing from the great Anemo Archon above that you’ve never come into contact with one.

But, oh, how your god can have a sense of humor.

Your church shoes taped rhythmically against the marbled floors of the cathedral. You kept your heavy Bible by your side with a firm grip so it doesn’t slip and fall. It’s happened too many times before.

It was dead empty in the building when you arrived, it always was this early in the morning, only a couple hours before morning prayers.

But you just love it when it’s silent, giving yourself peace and quiet to talk to your Archon, your god, in silence.

Or… at least that’s what you thought you were going to get today. “Peace and quiet?” More like footsteps louder than ever coming from a young man bounding down the hall.

Who in Teyvat would be here this early!? You thought to yourself right after shutting your Bible.

The young man brushes the pink strands out of his eyes once he’s finally made it to you. He was sweating all over and was holding onto his own Bible with a death grip. Did he… did he run all the way here? But why??

“My apologies, Sister Y/n, but I have quite the favor to ask you,” he said while taking note of the glare you just shot at him. Even if it was for a second, he still got the hint.

With a playful grin, he asks, “was this a bad time, Sister?”

Plastering a smile on your face, you said, “No, no it’s alright! What is it Deacon Dahlia?”

Dahlia is also a member of the church, he was a Deacon and as well as the Herald of Barbatos. He’s a bit more mischievous and drama-obsessed than the rest of the clergy.

That’s why you hated him so.

But as a deaconess yourself you have to at least pretend to love everyone. It can be such a hassle sometimes.

Although, Dahlia is rather easy on the eyes. He has such beautifully pale skin and pretty, lavender eyes… but that’s all he has going for him in your opinion.

Dahlia looked around the room, pretending to check if anyone is there before leaning in rather closely to you, “The sun’s just barely risen, Y/n,”His voice would drop to a whisper, “Aren’t you afraid a vampire migh—“

“-Dahlia!”

You stopped him right there, his expression quickly changing to a rather shocked one, “Don’t talk about such… Such things in this sacred space!”

He nodded his head in understanding, “Oh, you’re right, you’re right… I apologize.”

But after clearing his throat, a rather impish grin graced his pretty face, “But I’m being serious, Sister Y/n. How does such a beautiful woman as yourself never fear being out this early—”

“-Dahlia.” You shot a glare at him.

“And why should fear such creatures when I know my god would protect me from those wretched demons,” you lied. Well, only the first part was a lie. You were afraid of having the blood sucked dry from your veins. It terrified you.

“‘kay, I’ll drop the subject,” he covered his mouth with a gloved hand as he laughed. Archons, how you hated his laugh, how he found everything about you so amusing.

With a roll of your eyes that he failed to notice, you flipped open your Bible sitting in your lap. But when you slid your finger across the page, you cut it.

“Oww,” you winced, while at the shallow, bleeding wound on your index finger. Dahlia was still standing next to you, his eyes locked on the finger you held in pain with your other hand.

His eyes widened and he could feel his heart beat faster and faster by the second, it was so loud in his ears that he wouldn’t be surprised if you could hear it too.

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. My goodness, was his body overreacting to just a drop of blood.

When his fingers began to twitch at his sides, he quickly dismissed himself, “I- I’ll get you a bandaid.”

You were a bit confused as to why he ran out the room so urgently, even handing his Bible to you.

It was just a paper cut…

Dahlia slammed the bathroom door shut then hurried over to the mirror, thank the gods only he and Y/n are the only ones here .

“Oh, lord…” he muttered to himself, his black, gloved hands coming up to cover his face in hopes of calming himself down.

“I can barely even control myself around one drop of blood…? How pathetic.” Removing his hands from his face, the pink haired male opened his mouth as he stared at his pearly white teeth in the mirror.

He ran his tongue over the sharp fangs that grew from his gums, if he goes out there now, anyone in Mondstadt would recognize him for what he is.

A vampire.

An unholy, sinful creature.

But he didn’t want you, or anyone, for the matter, to see him, the herald of Barbatos, as a monster struck with an insatiable lust for human blood.

If anyone did find out they’d probably stake him right in front of the clergy or even burn his home down with him still inside.

Dahlia knew you hated him, despised him, even. You made it pretty obvious…

But that never changed how passionately he felt about you, his stunning deaconess.

He’s always been like this — obsessed with you. He fell so, so deeply in love with you that he didn’t know what to do with himself at first.

Since turning into a vampire, the Deacon would fantasize about doing rather unholy things to you on a daily basis. Not anything sexual though, he wasn’t a perv.

It would be about sinking his sharp fangs deep into your veins, drinking the delicious blood straight from your pretty little neck.

Just thinking about it made his face burn red, “How I wonder what her blood would taste like…”

When both the morning prayer and service were over, you found yourself left alone in the church.

Where did Dahlia run off to…? You thought. Setting your Bible down on one of the wooden pews with his in your arms. You looked around for him, but found nothing. You knew him, and you knew he wouldn’t just leave anyone with his Bible.

And plus, he still hasn’t given you that bandaid.

“Dahlia!” You called out, only getting your echoed shout as a response. Where in the world could be have gone? You were growing rather impatient.

He can’t just show up to church hours early then disappear when the actual service starts.

After trying every door in the church, you finally found one that was locked. It was the storage closet… could he be in here?

“Dahlia! Are you in there!?” You shouted through the door.

You were met with a long silence until finally hearing his voice, “What’s wrong, sister? Miss me already?” He responded, resting his back against the cold, hard door and sliding down to sit on the floor.

“What- No! What are you doing in there!? Everyone was looking for you but you just disappeared!” You groaned, “And you left your Bible with me…”

There was another pause, “So you’re worried about me—!?” He completely ignored everything else you said just to say that.

“-Open the door!!”

“Are you sure? Because… I don’t think it’s very befitting of a deaconess to enter such a confined space with a man. Especially right under god’s eyes.”

Standing up again, Dahlia unlocked the door. “But, since you so insist.”

With swift movements, Dahlia pulls you into the closet, his hand cupping over your mouth and holding your back closely against his chest while kicking the door shut.

The Bible fell to the ground with a loud thud. When you desperately tried to pry his hands off your body, you couldn’t. He was too strong… it was almost inhuman.

You tried fighting him off you until your eyes landed what was lying on the ground.

Is that… blood?

As your eyes traveled further down, your blood ran cold.

It was a dead body with multiple bite marks in the side of their neck and arms. The corpse belonged to someone you’ve never seen before, so you assumed they had came to the morning prayer today.

You screamed into Dahlia’s hand cupped over your mouth, did… did he do this!? Why would he do this? You knew he wasn’t to be trusted from the day he first stepped into the church.

But you didn’t expect him to shamelessly commit murder in cold blood!

“Y/n…” He sang, “you have to stay quiet — I won’t bite… too much,” he smiled as he turns you around to face him.

He wiped off the blood dripping down his chin with the back of his hand, the other still holding onto you like his life depended on it.

“Your teeth…” you muttered, you voice barely above a whisper. “No, no… don’t tell me you’re a…” he put a finger to your lips them moved it away, a smile on his beautiful face.

How could someone as pretty as him become such a vile creature… and how has nobody noticed yet!?

“A vampire? Was that what you were going to say, sister?” Archons how you hated how he would said ‘sister’ in reference to you. His tone was anything but innocent when speaking to you.

“But… but how…” You heard so many stories about vampires not being able to walk out in sun or else they’ll burn to death. But since he’s a vampire...

You stared him dead in the eyes, a petrified look adorning your pretty face. You looked adorable like this to him, all shaky and afraid… oh, how Dahlia loved it.

“My vision allows me to walk around in the sunlight, if that’s what you were wondering.” His hand now traces along the side of your neck, his purple irises zeroing in on one particular spot.

“Praised be to Barbatos for this vision of mine, am I right?” He laughed, a devilish grin gracing his sickly pale face.

Your cheeks flushed a slight red tint as you felt his delicate fingers trace down your neck and along your collarbone through the fabric of your dress.

Was it embarrassment that you were feeling? Shame? You didn’t know, but you did know one thing: That you hated how attracted you are to him. Why did he have to be that stunning.

Suddenly, he leaned in close to your neck, leaving soft kisses on the delicate skin. Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping his clothes in a silent plead to not do anything you both would regret.

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited to do this…” he whispered.

“D- Dahlia, we shouldn’t—”

“-Hold still for a second, sister, this might hurt just a bit,” before you could let another word out, Dahlia bit into your neck. His sharp teeth sinking deep into your delicate flesh as you cried out in pain.

Pulling away for just a second, the deacon cupped a hand over your mouth as he licked your blood off his lips. “Could you please stay a bit quieter, sister Y/n? You don’t want me- us to get caught, now do you?”

You stared at him, he was right.

Since the people of Mondstadt have no idea how vampires multiply, under the slim possibility that there is a survivor from one of the viscous attacks, they are ran out of the city as if they had turned already.

And if that would happen to you… your life would be ruined.

You nodded your head slowly, well, you couldn’t speak anyway with his hand cupped over your mouth like that. You wondered why you weren’t as afraid of him as a normal person would be…

Your thoughts were cut off by the feeling of his tongue licking up the blood rolling down your neck and staining your pretty dress.

“Dahlia…” you muttered, wincing in pain from the wound on your neck, “Will… will I turn now that you’ve…?”

His purple eyes met yours as he replied, “No, no ‘course not. You’ll have to have my blood in your system then die for you to turn, it’s pretty complicated. Although… I’ve never turned a human before, so I don’t know all the details… What, do you wanna test it out?”

When you said no almost immediately, he laughed, he expected such an answer from you.

“As expected,” he placed a kiss on your wound, making your body jolt from the pain. “I wouldn’t want to corrupt the perfect little church girl… although, I think she’s already fallen for me…”

Were you really falling for Dahlia, or was that just what he wanted you to believe?

When you opened your mouth to respond, you lips were met with his. You could taste your blood on his lips and although you were repulsed, you couldn’t deny that he was a good kisser.

The feeling, the scent, taste… everything about him was so, so sinful. Yet, that’s what made you want more.

Then, the thought finally crossed your mind, How will I hide this bite mark from the church?

I got dahlia in my first ten pull (that I was saving for wanderer 💔) yipieee

sorry if there are some typos or anything I am tired as fuck and it’s barely even late yet

[painted-bees]

does each of them have an aspect you find hardest to portray, something you know to be true about them that doesn't find space often enough, things like that?

this is all amazing to read through btw, i've seen a lot of your art and have been meaning to catch up on the actual lore and what's going on (but, you know... life. always happening)

Tess, I just want to depict more in general. But she's what you call a "static" character [does not undergo character development but facilitates the development of other characters around her] and so my brain doesn't really insist on microwaving her nearly as much as it does with thr other two. Even though, in terms of aesthetic theming, she is the most interesting by far haha

For Raf, I microwave him the -most- and there are some really truly ugly aspects of his character that I am very soft on depicting because it is very easy to erode audience trust/empathy for a character like him. Even when I depict his struggles with his mental illness, we're only really see the battles he's able to win or overcome, and not the ones he loses--or is even completely unaware of. [Actually, we ARE seeing one such battle--but it hasn't been identified yet thanks to some unreliable narration hahaha] But I wish I had the balls--or finess--to depict his more unlikeable moments outside of the context of like...an ex or something where he has had time to look back on and reflect upon his behavior. Because he does have...more than his fair share of 'em. But I don't want that to be what he is to the reader.

For Margie, I feel like her struggles and interpersonal relationships play second fiddle to Rafs just because they're a lot more "mundane" and echo a lot of our own lived experiences, so I'm a little less inclined to go into big deep dives abt her because like...it's nothing new to most folks on this website. This website is FULL of people just like Margie. I think that's also why she's so popular on here. But she's got some really deep scars, too, that I'm only just finally starting to unpack properly--after leaving the clearly labled box out for so long wrt her haha So we'll be getting that soon enough.

Also with Margie, I would love to just kinda--show her relationships with her friends and family outside of Raf and Cortes, she actually HAS friends and such that she'll spend weekends and go on outings with!! I just haven't had the interest/motivation to depict any of that [because there are so many OTHER things that are more interesting to me that I'd rather spend the time writing and drawing abt wrt hi-note] haha but I genuinely wish I did.