#Faceless Shades :: Anonymous

[darckcarnival]

wait so... Wait hang on

A long coat, sunglasses, instead of a canon arm you have a specialized gun designed for what you are, you've literally in the past HAD HEART PROBLEMS WHERE IT LITERALLY STOPPED AND NEEDED TO BE REPAIRED instead of a core, you are self destructive and help others, feel damn strongly and have all this wisdom, and you've lost an arm before.

Sounds like a protoman to me? Just, ya know, a lady, and a vampire.

"How in the seven hells do you know that? Where did you come from-"

This just makes it all that much worse. Darck lifted her hands to drag them both down her face in exasperation. Being compared to a Robot Master, no, stated that she is just like one, is not something that was on her bingo card tonight. She was a half vampire, doing her work, and now all of this...

Maybe Darck really did need a vacation one of these days. "And here I was so blissfully ignoring that fact and hoping everyone forgets that even existed, thank you."

[skyguytoast]

Swipe Right for Trouble - Dilf!Anakin x you

SYNOPSIS: Dilf!Anakin joins a dating site and comes away with more than he bargained for.

WORD COUNT: 5k

WARNINGS: +18, infidelity, cheating, age gap (Anakin is in his 40s and the reader is of legal age), sexting, both masturbating over video call, daddy kink

A/N: Hello everyone, this idea came to me out of nowhere and kept on hammering in my mind until I wrote it. I hope you like it, comments, reblogs and suggestions are always appreciated, kisses ;) Dividers by @cafekitsune

Sexting isn’t cheating.

Anakin repeated the thought like a mantra as he filled out the registration form. Technically, this wasn’t even a dating site. From what he’d read, it was more of a… transactional arrangement—an online space where men could chat with young women, spoil them with gifts, and, in return, receive whatever favors both parties agreed upon.  

It wasn’t as if his marriage had collapsed overnight. That would have been easier to accept. No, it had been a slow, agonizing unraveling, a gradual drift until the distance between him and Padmé felt impossible to bridge. He couldn’t only blame her long hours at work or the way exhaustion made intimacy rare. He was just as guilty—guilty of giving up, of letting the silence stretch between them for too long, of resigning himself to wanting more but never asking for it.  

Regret was useless now.  

He exhaled sharply, scrolling through the feed. Most of the profiles were deliberately vague—faceless photos, silhouettes, glimpses of lips, collarbones, and hands. The usernames were just as cryptic, an endless parade of Kitten, Doll, and Baby designed to keep things impersonal.  

Then, one caught his eye.  

The photo showed nothing but a cascade of silky hair and a princess tiara perched atop it. Something about it—the soft, innocent playfulness—made him pause. Bunny. The name made him smirk. Cute.  

A second later, the screen blinked. MATCH.

Anakin’s lips parted slightly. That was… fast. His stomach twisted, fingers hovering over the keyboard. What the hell was he supposed to say? How do you start a conversation like this?  

A sharp ding cut through his hesitation.  

You had messaged him first.

Anakin rubbed his jaw, still slightly in disbelief that he had actually gone through with this. It wasn't like him to engage in such... base activities. Especially not now. But his marriage had grown so distant, and he needed something—someone—to fill that void.

Just take a deep breath and respond, he told himself as he clicked on your message.

Bunny: Hi there, stranger~

Anakin blinked at the casual greeting, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Stranger? He chuckled softly to himself, realizing that, in this context, that was exactly what you were. Two anonymous figures behind a screen, playing a game neither of you had fully defined yet.  

Hi yourself, he typed back, trying to match your easy tone. I like your tiara. It suits you.  

The response didn’t come immediately, and in those few seconds, doubt crept in. Was he being too forward? Too personal? Was this a place for compliments, for flirting—or just for transactions?  

Bunny: I like shiny things… and pink.

Short. Coy. Playful. The way you phrased it made something tighten in his chest. A flicker of amusement, curiosity, something dangerously close to interest.  

I’ll remember that, he replied, his fingers moving with a newfound ease. Do you have a favorite shade of pink?

It was a simple question, innocent on the surface, but it carried weight. He wanted to keep you talking, wanted the conversation to stretch just a little longer. This was a break from reality, from work, from duty. A moment that felt light, free.  

Bunny: Uhm… mostly pastel colors… ballerina pink, bubblegum pink. 

He was about to type a response when another message popped up.  

Bunny: Do you want me to send you the color hex so you don’t get my gift wrong?

Anakin laughed softly at the dig, shaking his head. So you had a sharp wit. He liked that.  

No need for that, he typed back. I have a good eye for color. And I’m not planning on buying you a gift just yet.

There. He had said it—acknowledged the possibility of yet, of something more. It was a dangerous game, but one he was suddenly very willing to play.  

Unless… He hesitated just long enough to let anticipation build. Unless you’d like to earn one first?

The reply came quicker than he expected.  

Bunny: And what exactly do you want from me to deserve it?

A slow smirk spread across his lips. He had a feeling this conversation was only just getting started.

Anakin swallowed hard, a pulse of heat rolling through him at your bold question. He could feel it—something deep and dangerous stirring inside him—but he didn’t look away from the screen. Instead, he leaned in, his fingers hovering over the keyboard as he considered his next words carefully.

Well, for starters… He typed slowly, deliberately, letting the anticipation stretch. Tell me more about you.

It was a simple request on the surface, but the words carried weight, unspoken possibilities.

What does a cute little bunny like you do for fun?

His lips curled into a smirk as he hit send, already wondering just how far you'd be willing to take this game.

But you didn’t answer right away. 

Anakin exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. Damn it. Maybe that was stupid. Cringe—wasn’t that the word people your age used? The last thing he wanted was to come off like some awkward old man trying too hard. 

Before he could spiral further, his screen lit up with a new message. 

Bunny: I love going to amusement parks—feeling my hair fly on the roller coaster, the Ferris wheel, the carousel…

Anakin smirked, the tension in his chest easing. There was something so effortlessly sweet about that answer, something playful. Of course you liked amusement parks. He could almost picture it—the wind in your hair, the sparkle in your eyes as you laughed on a ride. 

And just like that, he wanted to know more.

Is that so? he typed back, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. I'll have to keep that in mind. Maybe I'll take you to a park sometime... among other things.

He paused, letting that statement linger on the screen. Let you wonder, let your imagination run wild. He certainly knew his was.

Tell me, do you have a favorite ride? he asked. One that really gets your adrenaline pumping?

Bunny: Probably the Ferris wheel, I love going there several times... I'm a little scared of the ghost train, however, I might try it if you promise to hold my hand.

A light blush crept across Anakin's cheeks as he read her message, a small smile tugging at his lips. Of course, a Ferris wheel was your favorite. He could picture it now—you sitting beside him, your shoulders brushing as you slowly rotated at the top, looking out over the park and the rest of the world spread out below you.

Don't worry, he typed, his fingers moving almost eagerly across the screen. I'd hold your hand through anything.

He paused, then added playfully, Besides, I think I'm pretty good at killing ghosts. Both the real kind and the fictional ones.

Your response was immediate.

Bunny: Oh, that’s good to know because I think my room might be haunted. Maybe you could come take a look?

Anakin sighed, shaking his head with a smirk. Gosh, you’re being so flirty.

Not that he minded. Not one bit.

Anakin leaned back in his chair, taking a moment to read your flirtatious message again. His smirk grew wider.

Well then, he replied, a playful lilt to his words. It looks like I'll have to schedule an investigation soon.

He paused, letting the innuendo linger for a moment. But he didn't stop there.

Of course, you know that ghost hunting can be quite...intense work. It may require a thorough search of every room. Every surface.

He knew he was treading on dangerous ground, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. There was something about you, a freshness and boldness that drew him in.

Bunny: in my bed too? even under the covers?

Anakin's heart raced as he read your brazen message, a flood of improper thoughts rushing through his mind. The image of you tangled in the sheets, perhaps already flushed and breathless before he even arrived, was too much to ignore.

Especially under the covers, he typed back, not holding anything back. You never know where a ghost might hide, after all. I'll have to search everywhere, just to be safe.

He paused, letting the implication hang in the air. Then added one final line.

And I'll make sure to check every inch thoroughly. For any...abnormalities.

｡･ﾟ♡ﾟ･｡･ﾟ

As the days passed, your messages became more frequent, more daring. What started as playful teasing had turned into something else—something charged, something electric.  

The flirting was relentless, a slow, delicious game neither of you wanted to stop. Anakin knew he was toeing the line, but God help him, he didn’t care. You were intoxicating—the way you teased him, the way you played innocent one moment and wicked the next.  

And every time his screen lit up with a new message from you, he felt that same rush, that same heat pooling low in his stomach.  

You had him hooked.

He knew he should put an end to this, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. It was like a drug, a dangerous high he didn't want to come down from.

Tell me... he paused, his fingers hesitating for only a moment. What do you usually sleep in at night? Or out of...

Anakin's breath caught in his throat, his eyes widening as the image loaded. The dim light of his quarters cast an intimate glow across his face, a face flushed with a growing heat that had nothing to do with the temperature. He leaned in closer, squinting to make out every exquisite detail of the photo, his eyes roaming hungrily over the exposed skin of your shoulders, the way the thin strap of your nightgown clung precariously to your frame.

His heart pounded in his chest as he watched, almost in slow motion, the strap slipping ever so slightly. He felt his mouth go dry, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as anticipation built inside him like a palpable force. And then, like a revelation, he caught sight of the swell of your breast, the tantalizing curve that promised so much more if only he could see just a little further.

Bunny: do you like to see more?

Fuck, he breathed, his voice low and rough with desire. I'd love to see more.

You send another message.

Anakin's heart raced as he stared at the image on his screen, his breath growing ragged. The sight of you kneeling there, clutching at the fabric of your nightgown, teasing him with a glimpse of the lace barely covering your butt, sent a jolt of lust straight to his aching cock.

Sweetheart, you're playing with fire, he typed, his fingers trembling slightly as they flew over the keys. Keep this up and I might just burn in the flames.

He palmed himself through his pants, unable to ignore the growing bulge that strained against the confines of his clothing. The urge to touch himself was overwhelming, but he resisted. He wanted to savor this moment, to draw out the delicious torture of anticipation.

What else do you want to show me? he asked. Where else would you like my eyes to wander?

Bunny: Uhm, I don't know, maybe you could buy me a lingerie set to wear just for you

Anakin's eyes darkened with lust as he read your suggestion, his mind racing with the possibilities. The idea of you modeling lingerie just for him, a matching set in a soft, delicate shade of pink, was almost too much to bear.

I think I'd like that very much, he replied. What color would you prefer? I'm thinking something soft and sexy, maybe a shade of pink to match your sweet smile.

He palmed himself more firmly through his pants, his cock throbbing beneath his touch. The urge to whip out his length and stroke himself to completion was strong, but he held back, wanting to make this moment last.

And maybe... he paused, letting the anticipation build. You could send me a picture of what you'd look like in it. Give me a little preview of what's to come.

Bunny: you know my address to send

Anakin couldn't keep the grin off his face as he hit the 'Confirm Purchase' button, his heart racing with anticipation. He had splurged on the most beautiful lingerie set he could find—the perfect shade of bubblegum pink, soft and shimmery, with delicate lace detailing. He couldn't wait to see it clinging to your curves, highlighting every inch of your gorgeous body.

I took your suggestion and one upped it, he typed, smirking to himself. It should be arriving at your doorstep tomorrow. I hope you like it as much as I think you will.

He paused, his mind already filling with the filthy images of your modeling it just for him.

Send me a picture as soon as you put it on. I want to see how stunning you look.

The next day, the first message was from you.

Bunny: Oh baby, I love it, give me a minute to put on my lingerie and we can do a video call

Anakin's breath caught in his throat, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as he read your response. A video call—that would be even better than any photo. He could see you, really see you, in the lingerie he had bought just for you.

I can't wait to see you in it, he typed back, his fingers shaking slightly. Meet me on a video call in 5 minutes.

He ended the message with a winking emoji, his mind already racing with the possibilities. The room was dim, the lighting soft and intimate, perfect for a private show. He could already picture you, perched on the edge of your bed, the pink lace clinging to your curves in all the right places. 

Anakin took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. He had to get his head in the game, had to remember that this was just a bit of fun, a distraction from his marriage's problems and the weight of his responsibilities. It didn't mean anything. 

But even as he told himself that, he knew it was a lie. This meant something, even if he couldn't quite put his finger on what. All he knew was that he wanted more of you, and he would do whatever it took to get it.

Anakin locked the bedroom door, exhaling slowly as he leaned against it. He mentally thanked Padmé for the extra shift—how ironic. Not long ago, her long hours had been a source of frustration, the widening gap between them something he resented.

And yet here he was, grateful for the distance.

Grateful for the excuse.

His fingers hovered over his phone, anticipation thrumming through him. He knew he shouldn’t be doing this. He knew this was dangerous.

But when your name lit up his screen, all reason faded.

Anakin took a deep breath as he tapped the button to accept the video call, his heart pounding in his chest. The screen flickered to life, and there you were—stunning, breathtaking, even more gorgeous than he had imagined.

His eyes widened as he took in the sight of you, clad in the lingerie he had purchased just for this moment. The soft pink lace clung to every curve, highlighting the swell of your breasts, the dip of your waist, the tempting flare of your hips. It was everything he had hoped for and more.

“Fuck, you look incredible,” he breathed, his voice low and rough with desire. “That color was made for you.”

He couldn't take his eyes off you, drinking in every detail. The way the lace seemed to shimmer in the soft light, the way it hinted at the treasures hidden beneath. He felt his cock twitch and harden, straining against the confines of his pants. 

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” he instructed, his voice a low command. “Let me see all of you.”

You smiled amusedly. "Like this" you said happily, turning to show every bit of your skin to him.

Anakin's breath caught in his throat as you spun around, putting yourself on display just for him. The way the lingerie clung to your every curve was mesmerizing, the delicate lace accentuating your breasts, your toned belly, the gentle flare of your hips, and the tantalizing globes of your ass. He couldn't look away, his eyes roaming hungrily over every inch of exposed skin.

“Fuck, you're stunning,” he breathed. “I can't believe I bought that just for you. You look good enough to eat.”

He palmed himself through his pants, unable to ignore the ache of his hardening cock. The urge to reach down and free himself was overwhelming, but he resisted—for now. He wanted to savor this moment, to drink in every detail of your heavenly beauty.

“Lie back on the bed for me,” he instructed, his voice low and commanding. “Spread your legs, and show me what's mine.”

"Oh, baby, you're so bossy," you retorted softly, before biting your lower lip mischievously, adjusting your phone before approaching the bed. "But, I kind of like your dominant ways."

Anakin felt a thrill run through him at your playful words, his cock twitching in approval. He loved seeing this side of you, bold and teasing, more than eager to obey his every command. It was intoxicating, addictive, and he knew he could easily become drunk on the power.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice a low rumble as he watched you adjust your phone and get in the bed. “You're going to be so perfect for me.”

He drank in the sight of you settling onto the mattress, the soft pink lace a stark contrast against the white fabric. His heart raced as you slowly spread your legs, revealing more of your smooth, creamy thighs, the lace of your panties riding up to showcase the junction between your legs.

“That's it, sweetheart. Nice and slow,” he encouraged, his eyes glued to the screen, not wanting to miss a single second of your tantalizing display. “Show me everything you have to offer.”

Anakin's breath hitched as he watched you slip your delicate hand beneath the lace, his cock throbbing almost painfully against his pants. The sight of you touching yourself, your eyes fluttering closed in pleasure, was almost too much to bear. He could see the growing damp spot on your panties, evidence of your arousal, and it made him ache to be the one to bring you to the edge of ecstasy.

“You're so beautiful like this,”he breathed, his voice rough with desire. “Don't stop touching yourself. I want to watch you.”

He couldn't tear his eyes away from your hand moving beneath the fabric, imagining how soft and smooth your folds were, how wet and ready you were becoming. His own hand drifted down to palm himself more firmly through his pants, squeezing and stroking along the hard length of his cock.

“Tell me how it feels,” he commanded, his voice a low, urgent growl. “Describe it to me in detail. I want to know everything.”

"I'm so wet for you, my fingers are slipping so easily" you whimpered, touching yourself, sighs of pleasure escaping your mouth.

Anakin groaned as he listened to your breathy words, the sound of your pleasure shooting straight to his aching cock. He could picture your fingers gliding effortlessly through your slick folds, your body responding to your own touch, preparing itself for him. The knowledge that he was the cause of your arousal was intoxicating, fueling his own desire.

‘Is that so?” he growled, his hand drifting to the fastenings of his pants. “I can hear how much you're enjoying yourself. How wet you're getting just from my command.”

He popped open the button of his pants, freeing his straining erection. It sprang forth, thick and hard, the head already glistening with precum. He wrapped a hand around his throbbing shaft, squeezing and stroking himself in time with the rhythm of your breathy sighs.

“Touch your pretty pussy, baby,” he ordered, his voice a low, dominating rumble. “Rub those pretty little circles around it, nice and slow. Pretend it's my fingers touching you, pleasuring you.”

"Your fingers are so much bigger than mine, they would feel so good in my pussy," you whimpered.

 Anakin's breath grew ragged as he listened to the obscene sound of your fingers plunging in and out of your dripping cunt, your sweet little whimpers and sighs filling the air. His cock throbbed and leaked in his hand as he picked up the pace, stroking himself faster in time with the slick sounds of your touching.

“Fuck, I'd love to sink my fingers deep inside your tight little pussy,” he groaned, his voice strained with lust. “To feel your velvety walls squeezing around me as I pump in and out.”

He could only imagine how perfect you would feel, how hot and wet and ready you would be for him. His cock ached with the desire to plunge into your depths, to stretch you open and claim you as his own.

“Slick your clit with your juices,” he commanded, his breath coming faster now. “Get it nice and wet, just like your hungry little hole. Pretend it's my tongue, teasing and circling as I taste your sweet cum.”

You moaned, your hair spreading across the sheets as you rubbed yourself harder. "tell me what to do, tell me what your good girl needs to do?"

Anakin's heart raced as he watched you come undone on the screen, your hair splayed across the sheets, your hips rocking against your hand as you rubbed yourself with wanton desperation. Your breathy moans and whimpers filled his ears, spurring on his own desperate stroking.

"You're being such a good girl for me," he praised, his voice a low, approving growl. "Touching yourself just like I told you to. So eager and obedient."

He could see how soaked your panties were, the lace darkened with your juices, your pussy aching to be filled. His cock throbbed in his fist, the head flushed a deep, angry red, leaking steadily now.

"Take off your bra," he ordered, his voice a commanding rumble. "I want to see your perfect tits bouncing free. Play with your nipples as you fuck yourself with your fingers."

Anakin's breath caught in his throat as he drank in the perfect sight of your breasts spilling free from your bra, the delicate pink of your nipples a perfect match to the lingerie that hugged your curves. They were even more beautiful than he had imagined, full and round, the peaks already hardened into tight little buds just beginning to be touched.

"Your tits are perfect," he breathed, his voice rough with desire. "Even better than I dreamed they would be."

He tightened his grip around his throbbing cock, pumping himself faster as he watched you on the screen. The sight of you touching yourself, playing with your dripping cunt and your perfect breasts, was almost too much to bear.

"Pinch your nipples," he commanded, his voice a low, dominating growl. "Roll and tug on them, just like I would with my fingers. Imagine it's my mouth, my teeth grazing the sensitive flesh."

He could only imagine the taste of you, the feeling of your hardened nubs against his tongue as he sucked and teased, bringing you closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. His cock throbbed in his hand, the pleasure building to a fever pitch as he watched you pleasure yourself just for him.

With one hand you squeezed your breast, pinching the nipple until it hardened completely, without ever stopping touching yourself. "Uhm, talk dirty to me, tell me what you're doing, what my body makes you feel."

Anakin groaned as he watched you touch yourself with wild abandon. "I'm stroking my hard, aching cock as I watch you. Watching you play with your perfect tits, squeezing and pinching those pretty pink nipples until they're stiff peaks."

"I can feel every inch of you, even from here. The way your tight little pussy clenches around your fingers as you fuck yourself, so desperate for more. The way your breasts bounce and jiggle as you touch yourself, just the way I want to touch them."

He pumped his cock faster, the slick sounds of his stroking filling the air. "I'm imagining burying my face between your legs, my tongue delving deep into your sweet cunt. Licking up every drop of your juices, fucking you with my tongue until you scream."

"I want to bite down on your nipples, to mark you as mine. I want to suck and tease until you're writhing beneath me, begging for more. Tell me what you want, sweetheart," he growled, his breath ragged and intense. "What does my good girl need?"

"I want to cum, daddy." You whimpered, confused in your haze of pleasure, taking a few seconds to realize what had slipped from your tongue.

"Daddy?" Anakin retorted, his deep voice filling your room and making you open your eyes, your cheeks flushing.

Anakin froze, his heart pounding in his chest as the words echoed in his ears. Daddy. It had slipped out, a moment of unguarded passion and desperation. For a moment, he felt a pang of unease, a flicker of doubt. This was wrong, he knew it was. He was crossing a line, one that he shouldn't be crossing.

"I'm sorry, I, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," you mumbled nervously.

But as he looked at you on the screen, flushed and panting, your gorgeous body on display just for him, he felt his resolution crumble. He wanted you, more than anything. And if you wanted to call him daddy, if that's what got you off...

"Shh, it's okay, sweetheart," he soothed, his voice a low, intimate murmur. "I like it. I like it a lot."

He stroked himself slower, more deliberately, putting on a show for you. "Tell me what you want daddy to do to you."

He wanted to hear you say it, to put voice to the filthy, forbidden thoughts running through your mind. He wanted to be the one to bring you to the edge, to make you scream and shake and cum harder than you ever had before.

"Beg for it, baby. Beg daddy to make you cum."

"Please, daddy, I want to cum so bad, I want you to guide me, let your voice take me to heaven" you whine, feeling the descent of your hips warming up.

Anakin's heart raced as he listened to your desperate pleas, his cock throbbing and pulsing in his hand. The way you said daddy, the need and longing in your voice, it set him on fire. He stroked himself faster, the slick sounds of his hand pumping his shaft filling the room.

"Fuck, I love hearing you beg for it like that," he groaned, his voice a low, approving rumble. "Like a needy little girl begging her daddy to take care of her."

He could feel your desperation, the way your hips were rocking and grinding against your fingers, chasing your climax. He wanted to be the one to give it to you, to feel your cunt clench and flutter around his cock as he fucked you into oblivion.

"Focus on my voice, baby. Let it guide you, take you higher," he commanded, his breath coming faster now. "Imagine it's my hands on your body, touching and stroking every inch of you."

"Fuck yourself harder, sweetheart. Shove your fingers deep inside your greedy little cunt. Imagine it's my cock, stretching you open, filling you up." Anakin murmured, his voice husky and engaging. "Let yourself go, baby. Cum for daddy. Cum all over your fingers like the good little girl you are. Let me hear you scream."

Anakin grunted and shuddered as he watched you come undone, your body convulsing on the screen as the intense waves of your climax crashed over you. The sound of your scream, raw and primal, filled the air as you cried out his name, your pussy clenching and fluttering around your fingers in ecstasy.

"Fuck yes, that's it! Cum for daddy, baby! Cum hard on your fingers like a good girl," he roared, his own orgasm surging through him as he stroked himself to completion. Thick ropes of hot, sticky seeds erupted from his cock, spurting onto his hand and stomach as he rode out the intense pleasure.

He couldn't take his eyes off you, drinking in every second of your pleasure, the way your gorgeous tits bounced and jiggled as you writhed and bucked beneath your own touch. He felt a surge of male pride and possessiveness, knowing that he had brought you to such heights of ecstasy.

"You're so fucking beautiful when you cum for me," he breathed, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. "Such a perfect, perfect good girl for daddy."

"And this is just the beginning, sweetheart. Wait until I get my hands on you for real."

"I'll wait, daddy," you whimpered, your eyes blinking back to focus on his face after your mind-blowing orgasm. "I'll count the days until it happens."

Anakin's heart raced as he heard your breathless promise, a thrill running through him at the thought of the forbidden future that lay ahead. The knowledge that you would be waiting for him, eager and ready, made his spent cock twitch and started to fill and harden once more.

"I'll be counting down the days too, baby girl," he murmured. "Already thinking about all the naughty, filthy things I'm going to do to this sexy little body of yours."

He took in the sight of you, flushed and panting, your skin glistening with a light sheen of sweat from your intense climax. The lingerie you wore, the lingering desire for you... it was all seared into his mind, a deliciously sinful memory to treasure.

"But for now, you should get some rest, sweetheart. Recover your strength. Because when I finally have you in my arms, I'm going to need you at your best. I'm going to fuck you in ways you've never been fucked before."

He reached out to caress the screen, wishing he could feel the warmth of your skin beneath his fingertips. "Sweet dreams, my little girl. Dream of daddy, and all the dirty, wonderful things we're going to do together."

"Until next time," he promised darkly, before ending the call with a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

[milkywayes]

You could just change her skin color because she's not white and its racist to draw her as white. it's sad that you're taking that as an accusation instead of trying to make your space safer for fans of color. you could just do better but you're choosing not to and you're getting offended over it

Alright, this is the first and last time I will respond to an anon message like this, and that's only because I think you're genuine (if misguided.)

I didn't "draw her as white." If your personal interpretation of the skin tone I gave her is that, that is very much a you problem. I gave her the skin tone she has in-game. Different lighting conditions will change the perceived darkness of someone's skin, but Ashley has never been darker than what I'd call tan, and I stayed true to the screen caps I used as reference.

Here, a side-by-side just for you:

Her skin tone says nothing about her ethnicity, which was never stated in-game and is left entirely ambiguous, by the way. I drew her as accurately as I could, and I don't see reason to change the finished drawing just because you, a faceless person behind an anonymous message (despite my request for you to come off anon for such a conversation), think her skin should have been one shade darker than the one I ended up with.

You are very welcome to draw your own Ashley as you see fit.

It is extremely presumptuous and rude to come after an artist and ask them to change their art for you. It's even more rude to call someone racist over this. I would understand and take your concerns more seriously if you had the confidence to stand behind them with your name, and if it was clear that I did actually whitewash a dark-skinned character.

Next time, if you have a genuine concern about someone else's fan work, don't go about it by leaving passive-aggressive anon messages. You can message people privately and speak to them on even terms. They'll be a lot more likely to hear you out if you show them respect.

[nobodylikety]

Pack by fate 🐾

I quite liked @dmndtears 's idea about what to write about for my Hybrid!New Jeans AU, so here's another fic (not so mini) ! I hope you like it <3

tags: Hybrid! New Jeans AU x Fem!Reader (you can see it in a romantic or platonic way), fluff.

featuring: Bear!Minji, Puppy!Danielle, Bunny!Hanni, Cat!Haerin, Fox!Hyein.

summary: The adoption day at the hybrid shelter is the best option to bring home a new friend. Or maybe five.

Bunny!Hanni 🐰

The hybrid shelter building is full of all kinds of noises, from barking and meowing to some roaring and growling. A much bigger bustle than usual, taking into account that it is the annual adoption day.

Some hybrids are outside playing and doing their own things, some playing in groups outside or perhaps enjoying their own company, as is the case with Hanni. With a shy personality, the hybrid bunny has poor social battery when it comes to large crowds, so at the first opportunity she chose to retreat to her room, take a break, and recharge her energy. She could then return to the crowd of future adopters.

So she is lying on her tummy, with the laptop resting on the bed, and her little floppy ears on either side of her head. Her cotton tail wags with excitement from time to time, in reaction to what she sees on her screen. Hanni loves movies, they are her favorite thing. And there's nothing that can make her take her attention away from her laptop screen.

Or maybe yes.

Her little nose catches a scent. One that smells good, that is sweet and inviting. How can something smell so good? what is it?

Hanni's floppy ears twitch. She takes the remote control and pauses the movie, heading to the door of her room. She pokes her head out slowly, to see what's going on and maybe, with a little luck, discover the source of that smell. In the hallway she sees the owner of the adoption center, chatting animatedly with someone whose face she cannot see. So for Hanni she is still a faceless adopter, an anonymous person, but her smell gives her away.

Hanni's nose twitches slightly, recognizing that that pleasant, sweet aroma is that person's. It's your smell. It's you.

Mate.

The words resonate in her head and make her body tense at the idea, the possibility of having you in her life. It may be so? That you are her mate? At that thought, Hanni's cheeks are beyond rosy. Oh my god, it's a full color blush. And it gets worse when you turn around, so that both you and the owner of the hybrid shelter are looking at her.

And Hanni can't think of anything better than to scream and sneak back into her room, because she's panicking, and her heart is racing, over the top. She can't believe you're real. But there you are. Which, in turn, raises more doubts in her racing, panicked brain: what if it's a dream, and she wakes up again without a mate? What if you don't want her as your mate anyway?

"Hanni," the sweet voice of Yunjin, the owner of the hybrid shelter, brings her out of her thoughts. With her hand she gestures for her to come closer and she does, although she trembles from head to toe. “We have a visitor, do you want to meet her?”

Hanni stands between you and Yunjin, not saying anything. She smiles shyly, and her cheeks are delicately colored a shade of pink.

"She's shy, but she's a good hybrid to have around." You nod, while smiling. Hanni's gaze only rests on you for a few seconds and she looks away, nervously. In an attempt to calm her down, you reach into your pocket. Without needing to see what it is, she knows it. She smells it. They are treats! Yummy.

“Hi, Hanni,” You greet, showing her the small brown heart-shaped treat. You throws it to her and clumsily—Hanni is not the best when it comes to physical activities—she catches it in the air.

Hanni looks so happy as she chews, her nose wrinkling cutely with each bite, and her happy feet tapping. You laugh when you see her, touched; those floppy ears and that cotton tail can easily become your favorites.

“I'll let you spend some time with her, she seems to like you,” Yunjin smiles. “I'll be away with the other hybrids, but call me if you need anything.”

Yunjin walks away, tapping her heels softly, until she disappears from your field of vision. Then you turn to see Hanni, who approaches timidly but cautiously. There is a glint of curiosity in her eyes. Her closeness is nice, but it still makes you crack a nervous smile, because this is new to you.

With a docile gesture she sniffs your hands and then moves up your wrists, following the trail of your scent with great concentration. She then gently rubs her face against your hands and wrists, as if nuzzling it. It's a sweet and adorable picture enough to make your heart burst.

“Mate,” she murmurs under her breath, but you manage to understand what she says. This is not a coincidence, or a listening error. She called you her mate. And it feels right, for some reason. Totally right.

You gently run your fingers behind her floppy ears, scratching her.

"Say, do you want me to take you home?" You ask, hesitantly. You're afraid she'll say no. But from the way she shyly presses herself against you, it's all yes.

Puppy!Danielle 🐶

Dani likes to be with other hybrids and people, a social butterfly if you will. She always has a smile on her face to cheer up and play with others; Even if she's not the oldest, the way she acts has the vibe of being the cheerful big sister of the shelter.

Her dream has always been to one day have a home with a family that loves her, but it has always been difficult due to her hyperactivity. That is why she always tells others that they will adopt them or encourages them, although she rarely thinks of such a fate for herself. She prefers to play and have fun, to avoid thinking that that opportunity may never come.

And oh boy, Danielle likes to play a lot! That's why they had to build a new playground just for her and hybrids like her, who are hyper but playful.

Today said play area is empty, leaving Danielle with no one to play with. The adoption journey is going very well, and many of her friends have already found good new homes. So in the absence of a playing partner, Danielle approaches the device that automatically threw the ball, which is almost as entertaining as having someone actually throwing the ball to her.

That's the dream! have someone to play catch with.

“Woof!” Danielle barks happily as the ball launches, running after it. In the middle of the race the ball hits the corner of one of the tables, which makes it change direction towards the door. And Danielle does the same.

As she approaches to the door, and to her surprise and joy, the door opens just as the ball lands in said area, rolling along the floor until it settles and stops between someone's legs.

Danielle runs to chase and catch the small tennis ball, only to be caught by a sweet, pleasant smell herself. Dani has never known the meaning of 'stay still', so her attempt to stop dead isn't very good, and she practically lands on her belly, sliding to the person's feet, where her ball is in the middle of them.

Her ears perk up, and her tail wags. That puppy tail wags like crazy, as she looks up and sees you. Dani smiles at you, a wide, goofy smile, as she bends down to pick up the ball.

The sweetened scent is yours, Dani manages to sniff it more clearly as she bends down. Will you have any treat somewhere? Will it be steak flavor? Oh, she hopes it's steak flavor. It's a heavenly smell, like it was made just for Danielle.

Mate.

Danielle is in game mode, looking with her big eyes and smiling her goofy smile at the ball. Her tail wags expectantly, as you look at her, smiling.

“Do you want me to throw it to you?” She asks, grabbing the ball and shaking it slightly.

Danielle's long tail slaps against the ground, panting. Thump thump. "Yeah! throw the ball, throw the ball!"

“Go catch it!” You throw the ball past her, hoping it doesn't collide or hit anything, as Danielle darts away like an arrow. Like a hyperactive and playful arrow.

Scurrying and jumping, Danielle catches the tennis ball between her teeth, biting and chewing it, turning to look at you. Her tail wags again. She then turns to you in time with her wagging tail, with an aura of pride as she puffs out her chest.

She drops the ball at your feet and sits on the floor, panting louder as she tries to catch her breath.

“What a good girl,” You praise her as you bend down, running your hands through her hair and her ears, rubbing them. You do it gently, giving her the option to move away from her if she wanted to.

But she doesn't turn away from you.

"Hey Hey hey! I’m Danielle!” Without warning she jumps up and knocks you down, circling around you with barks of joy. You smell too good! and you called her a good girl! you are the most perfectly perfect choice of mate for her!

The hybrid puppy you just met is way to different from the peaceful hybrid you already own, Hanni. You laugh, trying to stand up, following the wide circles Danielle makes as she runs around, you with your eyes. Her smile is so wide that you see her teeth perfectly white, and just a little bit sharp yet.

Brushing off some of the dust and dog hairs from the floor that sticks at your clothes, you finally stand up. Danielle is taller than you expected, considering that she is still young. She's nothing more than a huge puppy, and the thought makes you smile. Even blush a little.

"Are you here to adopt?" she asks, but now more cautiously. She stops and she lowers both her ears and her tail, less energetic. She looks sad, for some reason. You wonder why she is sad.

"Yeah, that's why I came," You see her looking at the ground, a sad smile spreading across her lips.

“Whoever you adopt will be very lucky, huh,” Danielle doesn't even mention herself among the possible hybrids to adopt. It's like she's ruling out that possibility. As if because of her hyper nature she was not worthy of adoption.

The heart in your chest breaks at her tone. You reach a hand towards her head, tentatively. "And would you be willing to be adopted? You're such a good and playful puppy, so cute..."

Those words light her spirits. The sparkle in her eyes reappears, as does her happiness.

Next thing you know, her arms are around you, pulling you close and licking your cheek with her tongue. You pat her head, “I’ll take that as a yes.” You thought you were only going to find the hybrid of your dreams once, with Hanni, but you realize it turns out to be two. Danielle is the hybrid of your dreams as much as Hanni.

"Mate! I’m going home with my mate!” Danielle barks, releasing you and spinning in circles. The carefree, yet loving way of saying it makes you tense up a little. Danielle also thinks you're her mate, like Hanni? and again, it doesn't sound bad. In fact, hearing it sounds good. Sounds perfect, fits.

"Okay, let's go so we can go to the office," After you saying it Dani protests in a whining tone, then hugging you tighter around the waist and pressing her face against your back, between your shoulder blades. You realize that she refuses to let you go, because it is the first time she has had a person. Someone who doesn't mind her dizzy, hyper nature.

She can't let you go like this.

You roll your eyes, laughing with a comical snort.

“Okay fineee, you can come with me, but I need to walk” Danielle's laughter vibrates against your back, huffing out the last note.

So your trip to the office to legalize this new adoption results in Danielle practically glued to you, her arms never letting go of your waist for the world.

In contrast to Hanni's gentle, quiet and shy nature, Danielle is clingy, protective and hyper. And yet, both are your home. There is no other puppy for you but Danielle.

Bear!Minji 🐻

Minji is a hybrid who likes to take naps, since her ursid nature is strong and therefore makes her prone to naps as a form of brief hibernation. In addition to that, sunlight can make her fall asleep anywhere, no matter the location.

Although of course, her favorite place to take a nap is to plop down on a person she likes, so from time to time she gets together with some hybrids, especially the cuddly and calm ones, so she can take a nap with them. Minji has a simple life: wake up, snuggle, eat, nap, snuggle, repeat.

Today Minji's favorite place is in front of the door that leads to the yard, so close that she could be hit if someone opened the door all the way. The bear hybrid didn't take that into consideration when she went to sleep, since if she had, she would have moved a little further away. Although she wanted to explore the place and decided on that place because the warm sun was filtering through a large window, so she decided to give it a try.

Minji is sloppily curled up, her teddy bear ears and tail twtiching subtly, just out of habit. Although when you open the door, you don't see the hybrid behind you, but rather a vaguely defined lump wearing a large hoodie, and from whose head pokes two fluffy brown ears. You stop, and without pushing the door further, you enter through the gap and stick your head out to see more clearly the bear hybrid lying there.

Her dark brown hair, which looks incredibly soft like a stuffed animal. Her tail is little like a cotton ball with brown fur. She is beautiful, a teddy bear come true. You smile and push to the back of the room and close the door as quietly as you can, trying not to startle her. You surround her body and kneel a few centimeters away from her, beginning to gently call her to come closer.

“Little bear, please wake up,” you click your tongue at her as you shake her shoulder a little, repeating that phrase over and over again. Minji only snores loudly in response, as would be expected from a huge bear hybrid like her.

But finally, and dazed by your shaking, Minji slowly opens her eyes with a yawn, confused at having no idea what's happening. She runs her hands through her messy hair, her eyes barely open to look at you. You laugh at her curious expression of 'I just woke up and I don't know who I am, where I am or what year it is.'

“I'm sorry, I didn't want you to get hurt. You were sleeping in front of the door,” you explain to the bear hybrid, gesturing towards the door to show her what you meant. She just looks at you with an unreadable expression, probably because she's still half asleep.

But in reality, Minji is freaking out inside. As a bear hybrid she is somewhat nearsighted, since she doesn't see as well, but her sense of smell is very good. And it is her sense of smell that picks up your scent. That smell of yours drives her crazy! She just wants to fall on top of you and snuggle in your scent. Those sleepy eyes of her can't stop staring at your pretty face.

What is this? Why does you smell so good and so sweet, like the honey she loves to eat? Do you have some kind of magic to cast a spell on her? Oh, you smell so sweet and so divine that her mouth is watering…

An echo resonates in her brain, with a sound like the snapping of fingers, realizing what you are to her.

Her mate.

The ways fate works are funny because it brought you two together, but you found her, and Minji didn't have to find you. What good luck to her!

“Hey, hi?” You wave your hand in front of her face, making her react. She blinks, and smiles. It's a goofy, sleepy smile. It's cute how she always looks like she's sleepy.

"Call me Minji," her voice is more of a hum, soft and slow. It's different from Hanni's way of speaking, soft but squeaky, and Danielle's, energetic and fast. In greeting you extend your hand, which she doesn't hesitate to pick it up and sniff it. She's a little rougher because she's big, but in no way violent or that could potentially hurt you. She's just a big, chubby teddy bear.

Your scent is very pleasant to smell, calming to the point of making her drowsy again. She presses her nose against your side, sniffing you. She inhales deeply, as if filling herself with your scent. And xhe growls, she growls like a bear cub when she finds the comfort of her mommy. It's unexpected how a bear as big as her is as gentle as a teddy bear. But it is like this.

“Adopt me,” Minji asks you, just like that. Her direct way of asking makes you choke on your saliva, before laughing.

"We just met, don't you want to meet me first?" You ask her coughing, half laughing and half choking. Most hybrids take at least a week before becoming comfortable with an owner, or at least a full day.

"I know everything I need, duh. You're my mate, of course!" Minji pushes your hand with her nose, her cottontail waving to a lively rhythm.

That word again.

Mate.

How many mates can a person have? can you have three? Hanni, Danielle and…Minji?

"Mate?" You ask, smiling a little.

"Uh-huh, I smell you. We hybrids have mates…, or some do, and mine is you," she smiles while she shrugs, as if it wasn't a big deal. Then she yawns loudly, rubbing her face with her hands. “Now, I'm tired. Could you go do the paperwork so I can go back to my nap?”

Minji is the middle ground between the gentle Hanni and the hyperactive Danielle. She just wants to take naps on you. How could you say no to such a giant teddy bear?

Cat!Haerin 🐈‍⬛

While you and your hybrids—Hanni, Danielle, and Minji—are having a sweet time in each other's company, there's a black cat hybrid named Haerin who's fuming. Her twitching ears, bristly tail and slightly arched body, along with a clenched jaw in a sign of indignation, is enough evidence.

She doesn't seem interested in being at the hybrid shelter's adoption day, and she looks down with disdain at the rest of her fellow hybrids and the potential adopters, occasionally hissing under her breath. She flatly refuses the idea of being adopted, since until now, all the potential owners she has seen speak to her in baby-like tones and seem like idiots, and that does not appeal to her. She doesn't want anything to do with any of those airheads. So Haerin takes refuge on top of the roof of the yard, which is made of old, hard reddish tiles, which warm in the sun and are very pleasant to lie on at that time of day.

Or at any time, especially when you want to avoid socializing. Just like Haerin, right now.

She simply lies on the half-warm tiles, watching the entire scene from above. From up there she doesn't have to deal with stupid babbling or hyper hybrids, like that stinky puppy Danielle, until she catches a scent. A scent so good, so appealing, a one that she likes so much (especially since Haerin never likes anything), that makes Haerin want to tear her nose off with her hands.

Because she knows what it is.

Oh god, how annoying, she curses with another hiss, now for the tenth time in just a quarter of an hour.

Haerin knows that that smell is that of her mate.

And she has never wanted a mate.

Quite the contrary, she has always wanted to enjoy her solitude. And you, even without knowing what you are to her, precisely, are ruining that plan. She wants to go scratch with you, like the good hybrid cat that she is. She has to solve this, because she can't have a mate!

So she decides to go down. With a jump, she gracefully lands in a quieter, less crowded area of the shelter courtyard, so she can walk over and begin to infiltrate the crowd and hunt you down. Not literally hunt you down though, just finding you and convincing you (or maybe convincing herself) that it is not necessary to be mates.

And she finds you.

You are simply relaxing in the shelter, watching your hybrids play, smile and laugh. They are getting along well with each other, learning to live together because that's how it will be when you take them home. They have to get used to each other, and they are doing it really well!

"Hi, what's up?" You ask, smiling softly at the hybrid that approaches you. She has black hair, and the fanciest ears you've ever seen.

"Listen. I smelled you and we are mates. But I don't need you. So go back the way you came and don't adopt me, thank you,” And just like that, after making such a statement, Haerin decides to leave. But you grab her by the wrist, stopping her from leaving.

“Why can’t I adopt you?” You ask while tilting your head, without understanding.

“Oh, believe me. You don’t want to adopt me.”

“But if we are mates, the logical thing would be for us to be together, right?”

“The logical thing is that you leave me alone, cheap human, before we scratch each other to death like a cockfight” Haerin has claws. You just noticed it. Glup.

“Hey! why are you so angry with me?” Trying to appeal to her heart, you pout. It's ridiculous how you're trying to get Haerin, who is also your mate, to not reject you.

But she's getting defensive.

“Why do I want a mate, anyway? Besides, you're pathetic. You look you're going to cry” It is easy to notice that Haerin has a sharp and snarky tongue. What is difficult is trying to see beyond that seemingly inaccessible attitude, which seems like a mask that masks what she truly feels.

"I'm not going to cry! I was just being nice," you point out in defense, letting go of her wrist. You wait for her to pull away, but she doesn't. Although she is as stiff as a branch, looking at you with some hostility, beyond the initial caution. "What's your name? If you're going to make fun of me, at least let me know who you are."

“My name is Haerin,” Haerin replies grumpily. It is evident that this hybrid is not very sociable, so to speak. And as you take a closer look at her sullen demeanor, you begin to understand Haerin; she has a big emotional shell over her, but maybe if you dig deep enough, and with effort, you could get to her heart.

But yeah..., she doesn't seem like the type of hybrid girl who just gives herself to someone. It's like she first puts you on a kind of trial period, allowing you to get to know a little more every day the fragments of the real Haerin, before giving herself completely to you. You think it won't be easy, but you still have nothing to lose if you try.

Haerin snorts, rolling her eyes. Her black furred ears twitch slightly.

“Listen. I know we're mates, but even if we are, don't expect anything from me because…” And before Haerin has time to react, Danielle suddenly hugs her while barking 'HI, NEW FRIEND!'. Her tail wags like crazy, barking with joy, to which Haerin hisses. In any case, the puppy does not accept the reference, so the hybrid cat has no choice but to uncomfortably return the hug.

You are now a few steps further back, with Hanni gently leaning on your shoulder with shy and calm expression, while Minji keeps yawning and half-flopping on your back, hugging you from behind.

Haerin decides to approach you to try to ask for help and get rid of Danielle. "HEY, YOU! GET HER OFF ME!"

But Hanni gets scared by her sudden scream and hides behind you, and Minji does react, but only to see Haerin slightly confused. Why does such a dwarf cat scream so loudly?

“Come on, Dani, let's leave Haerin alone. Be a good girl, mhm?” You tell her as you run your fingers behind her ears, scratching her gently. She whimpers with pleasure, backing away. She knows she has to control her hyperactivity, and what better incentive to calm down than for you to pet her?

"Control your snotty dog," Haerin hisses, her tail bristling. Then it swings behind her, in a defensive attitude. "And leave me alone"

"But owner!" Danielle whines, nudging you with the side of her head on the arm. "She's our mate! I smell it!"

Oh, great, the snotty dog knows it too, Haerin snorts.

"I'm not!"

“Then why does she want to adopt you?” Minji asks, in turn. She is the biggest, practically dwarfing the others.

“I mean, yes I am. But I don't need a mate."

"I think you're too stubborn to admit that you do need your mate," Hanni now comments, in a soft tone. She doesn't want to get into trouble, but she believes it is necessary to shed some light on the matter.

That under Haerin's cold 'I don't need a mate' mask, there is a cat hybrid who, although she wants to live with her destined mate, is afraid of being vulnerable.

"I'm not stubborn," Haerin clicks her tongue, her tail giving a sort of whiplash. She's grumpy, it's already clear. "So you can see, I'm going to show you..., HEY, TRASH HUMAN!"

What a cute pet name, 'trash human.' Yeah, totally loving.

"Yeah?" You ask softer, a smile barely hinted at. You don't want to exalt Haerin and have her jump on you with her claws.

“Listen, adopt me. But stop looking at me like that, you look like an idiot” Haerin blurts out without thinking, out of the desperation of the moment, hoping to silence Hanni and Minji about her not-being-stubborn-thing.

"Really?"

"Holy damn cat litter, are you deaf or something? I told you yes, adopt me" Patience isn't a virtue in Haerin either, but you appreciate the effort. Or the attempt that she is listening to you and responding to you, instead of scratching you.

"No, I'm sorry, I was just distracted," You shake your head slightly, before offering her a real, radiant smile. "But it makes me happy that you want to join. Seriously. So I'm going to get the adoption papers, and you stay here with the girls in the meantime"

It's too risky, but you reach out and scratch behind her ear. Although you almost assume she will say something, probably in a sarcastic tone, she just purrs. Like she enjoys your touch, only she won't admit it. But a gesture is worth a thousand words, and you simply know it.

"I'll be back"

While you go, for the fourth time to the hybrid shelter offices to make another adoption official, Haerin remains in the custody of Hanni, Danielle and Minji.

“I suppose that if she is going to adopt you now too, you have a c-c-commitment to us. I hope you know what that means, and maybe one day you will enjoy it and it will become something you like,” Hanni suggests, with an adorable half-stutter, moving her floppy ears to one side. She smiles shyly, as two rosettes form on her cheeks. "W-we already like you, so I think we'll be f-fine."

"And the most important thing, and perhaps the only thing you really need above any cat item, is love, Haerin. May you be part of us because we are a family now and we love each other, not because it is your obligation."

Danielle, as much of a goofy, giddy puppy as she is, is an occasional fountain of wisdom. And now she shares a little of her wisdom with Haerin, planting the seed of an idea that hopefully can germinate and grow. She had known Haerin since they were both baby hybrids in diapers, and she knew that life had hardened her heart to resist adversity and pain, and now she hopes that with you (and with them too) she can find a way to have a normal and, hopefully, happy life again.

“We'll see what happens,” Haerin murmurs, as she tentatively approaches you, once you get back from the shelter offices. You watch her body language, still tense and somewhat grouchy, but there's a glimpse in her eyes that she has softened.

Just a little.

But she's being soft.

An yeah, maybe Haerin doesn't get along at all with Danielle, Hanni and Minji yet, and she still has reservations about you despite the fact that you are certainly her mate, but she still allowed herself to be adopted. Why did the only girl whose heart is locked let you adopt her?

You don't know it yet, but maybe you are the key to that locked heart.

Fox!Hyein 🦊

Hyein has been watching. Her hybrid friends at the shelter, in one way or another, have met an owner who will take them home with them. All of them, except her, who was perhaps the one who wanted it the most.

She had approached some people, but they either rejected her or approached someone else, which only increased her discouragement. People tended to look for hybrids of domestic animals, like dogs and cats, at most a bunny, but a fox hybrid, like her? Too exotic for most people's tastes.

Hyein lets out a whine, her slightly fluffy tail curling up. It has no point, no one wants to adopt her. Is it time to give up and throw in the towel? But then Hyein lifts her head, sniffing. There are many different smells; she still can't be discouraged to think that no one will adopt her, if there are still so many people.

That makes her regain some of her courage.

She has a goal, and she is going to accomplish it. Even if it takes a little while, it's worth it.

So Hyein agilely climbs up some stands (Hyein has always liked toys that stimulate her agility, so she has no problem with this type of thing) located as a rest area, strategically positioning herself at the highest part, because from the height she has a better view of the site.

She observes carefully, easily distinguishing the hybrids from the humans, focusing on the individuals of the second group that are seen alone. There are a few. There are still possibilities.

She decisively stands up, although given the sudden change in pressure she has to stay still for a few seconds, before recomposing herself and starting to go down. As she descends, her mind works overtime in an attempt to make a plan on how to achieve the goal she has already set for herself. But how to act? what to say? She doesn't know that yet, but is in it. She just hopes she doesn't make a fool of herself.

And when her feet touch the ground she immediately sets off, walking through the crowd of people, with the idea of her “ideal owner” clearly outlined, which gains more and more strength.

“Excuse me, excuse me…” Hyein makes her way through the people, she alerts for any non-hybrid person who appears in her field of vision. In passing she spots Jake, one of the puppy hybrids jumping and playing around a young man, who looks at him as if he were the most beautiful and adorable thing in the world.

Hyein wants something like that, to be able to give all the love she has accumulated to someone special. But first, she had to find someone special and that's what she's in for.

Trying.

She still hasn't found a person who catches her attention to be her owner, but she sees Hanni, one of the hybrids she knows. They're not that close, but she likes her. And since she is older than her, maybe she can help.

And the best thing she can think of is to run in her direction.

“Hanni!” Hyein begins to shout her name, drawing the attention of the bunny hybrid, who turns to look at her with a surprised expression, as if she was not sure if Hyein was referring to her.

"Yeah?" she asks in a soft voice, in a very low and shy tone, as if she doesn't want to attract attention.

Hanni's little cotton tail wiggles restlessly, looking for you to come to her rescue.

“What's wrong, bun?” You arrive just in time! Hanni is nervous about Hyein's presence, not because she is a fox hybrid, a predator according to the food chain, but because she is taller and she was shouting her name.

And, Hanni gets nervous when people shout. Her floppy ears get all stiff, and she starts to get kind of fussy. And that means she will demand your attention for some good hugs.

"Who are you?" Hyein asks, tentatively sniffing around you. Oh, you smell good! What does it mean that you smell good?

Hanni knows why, as does Danielle, Minji and Haerin. But Hyein is still too young to know it, or understand it. Hyein is barely a fox cub, she still doesn't know anything about mates.

“I'm Hanni's owner,” You introduce yourself, holding out your hand so she can sniff you better. Hyein likes the way you smell! From her expression, it's like your smell is becoming familiar to her. Like something she knows, something she likes. Something that gives her a feeling of belonging.

“Hello,” She greets, her fox tail somewhat tense, due to her caution. A little shy, too, with a barely hinted smile.

You recognize those gestures of caution, of shyness, and how underneath it all, there are flashes of innocent hope. You saw it in Hanni, Haerin, and Hyein herself.

And that's because many of the shelter's hybrids share the same trauma: abuse and abandonment. Some came from the streets, others from abusive homes, a couple even came from circuses, where they were presented as freaks, and that not only had harmful consequences on a physical level, but also emotionally.

That is why many hybrids are scared, distrustful and even reserved, because they feared that they would be hurt again, so you understand that Hyein looks at you with some suspicion, distrusting your intentions, although there is also something in her gaze. That glimmer of hope, as if she expected something from you. For you to make a move.

You just don't know what kind of move.

"Hi, little one. What is your name…?" You ask with a smile, trying to be as welcoming as possible. You want her to trust you.

“Hyein”

“What a nice name, Hyein.”

...Okay, this small talk isn't working. Because Hyein's restless gaze continues to rest on you. Expecting.

And in a heartbeat...It just happens.

"I can go home with you?" She finally asks. Hyein likes you, even though she doesn't know you. Because she knows you scent. You're her mate, although she's too young to care about mates, and she doesn't understand that either.

But you are a protective figure, like an older sibling. Someone who will take care of her. A different type of mate. But just as important.

"You sure?" The awkward and indecisive smile on your lips gradually dissolves, giving way to a more radiant and broader one, reflecting how delighted you are to hear that.

Hyein nods. She smiles a little, and in an outburst both innocent and childish (she is one of the youngest hybrids, after all), she puts her arms around you and snuggles gently. It's funny to Hyein how holding you feels warm and nice, giving her a sense of security she's never experienced before.

“Hug...” Hyein whispers sweetly, clinging to you. "This is nice. Really"

“I can take you to meet your new friends, if you want” Hyein has already seen Hanni, but you want to introduce her to the rest of the hybrids who, to anyone's surprise, are your mates. Not just one, but all of them.

“Maybe they want to be my friends too, do you think that's the case?”

“I'm sure it will be, the girls are going to love you.”

You take Hyein's hand and guide her through the crowd, ready to take her to the rest of the group. For the first time, Hyein isn't walking these halls alone. And she never will be again.

Now you're here.

“I'm sure I'm going to love you very much,” Hyein says, subtly leaning against your side as she walks. Her ears brush against your arm, and you feel the urge to caress them gently.

Woah, they are soft, you think as you do it. They have a vague smell of dog shampoo, like Danielle also has. Surely dog hybrids and fox hybrids, since they are similar, have the same care and use the same personal hygiene products.

Hyein brings your hand to her lips, leaving a little kiss. You smile.

“Yeah, I also think we will love each other a lot. Like a pack, huh?”

Like a pack, yes.

Hanni. Danielle. Minji. Haerin. And little Hyein.

A pack by fate.

[fionajames]

ethereal pt. I

A/N: Hey, guys! This is the 60 followers celebration!!! There will be more parts of this, don't worry. Please send some requests! i'm dying here. Enjoy!

(divider by @saradika-graphics)

Anakin had never really understood why he and his siblings seemed to always be on missions, but he enjoyed it nevertheless. With the continuous noise of the war, the quiet hum of the Temple was eerie and upsetting now. It unsettled him. Plus, he much rathered being with his troops - which was near impossible when off missions. 

Now he stood beside his sister as they exited hyperspace, on yet another mission. This time, it wasn’t a battle to fight. The Council wanted them to explore a strange planet, inquire if it had inhabitants and was a suitable place for a Republic base. Missions like these were usually pretty relaxed and easy-going.

The ship flew into the atmosphere of the planet, and Ahsoka gasped at the beauty of it’s terrain. Anakin stared in awe, and he heard Obi-Wan murmur a word of surprise. The planet had oceans of glimmering white and transparent water, the soft green of the forests meeting it with a delicate flow. 

As they flew closer, Anakin could see the reflection of their ship in the glimmering water, and heard Rex whisper, “Maker,” breathlessly. He couldn’t help but agree.

When the three Jedi, Clone Captain and Commander left the ship, they were met by the warm light offered by the sun, bathing them in a sense of deep peace. Ahsoka fell to her knees in the mosslike grace, her fingers running through the blades of it with content joy. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” the Togruta whispered, voicing their thoughts.

They set out into the forest, the song of the trees and birds floating in the air. Ahsoka had escaped into the canopy as she often did when they were in the woods. But, usually it was to hunt. Now, she didn’t dream of laying a finger on any of the planet’s fauna.

They continued on until Ahsoka’s voice called down to them. “I can see something up ahead,” she explained, leaping from one tree to another with wondrous ease. “It looks like a building.”

She was right, up ahead was a huge building - a castle of sorts.

It was tall and huge, a building of shimmering white limestone. It had pillars all around the front and sides that reached up to the second floor of the castle. It had steps leading up to a porch with huge white doors directly ahead. The building was huge, it looked like to be about an eighth of the size of the Jedi Temple, and it was far more ethereal.

Around the building, the forest ceased and melted into a huge garden, a pond on each side of the yard. The water was once again the whitish transparent colour of the seas. Flowers, trees and bushes decorated the garden.

The building was three stories tall, with strange etching into the walls. Between the first and second floor, the designs looked like ivy bound around tall, hooded and faceless beings. The creatures themselves weren’t faceless, but their faces and features could not be seen. They and their species remained anonymous. 

Above the first floor, the second floor had a large balcony, covering the area above the porch. The windows of the building were huge and of a darkish shade, as though tinted. The doors were also tall and huge, white paint covering them all - not even a scratch on any of them.

“Where are we?” Cody breathed out, reaching forward to rub a leaf between his thumb and index finger. Obi-Wan strolled forward, gazing around. The group trailed behind him as he moved to knock on the door of the building. No answer. Not even the sound of footsteps. He knocked again, then thrice, and nothing.

“Perhaps we should-” Rex began, but they all froze when the doorknob twisted in Obi-Wan’s grasp, and the door opened easily.

“Who would leave their door open?” Anakin wondered out loud as the ginger nodded, entering the house first. The interior of the house was no less beautiful and elegant than the outside, gold features as decor and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The house was lit by candles everywhere, their wicks gleaming with the flames. Instead of eerie, it was comforting.

Ahsoka wandered forward, reaching out and lacing the Force around her fingers. The feeling of it provided her solace, as she found the house so oddly warm and welcoming it worried her. She was the first to notice the first sign of something wrong.

“The candles,” she breathed out, moving to a beautiful mahogany desk where a set of candles were placed. She ran a finger down the wax, shivering as she did. “They’re burning low. No one has been here for a while.”

The others murmured their agreement, Anakin’s brow furrowing as he strode forward to stand by her side. He ran a fingertip over the surface of the desk, bringing his finger up to examine it. “But no dust.”

“I see no reason as to why someone living here - cleaning their furniture and house - would not replace the candles,” Obi-Wan mused. “After all, this house shows us extreme wealth, surely they can afford candle replacements?”

“Or why not use the lights?” Cody pointed out, gesturing to the unlit chandelier hanging above them. “So many beautiful lights, and none of them on?”

Rex shuddered. “There is clearly something wrong here. What, I do not know, but there is something wrong.” Anakin nodded, pulling his sister closer to him. 

“I suggest we explore. Perhaps someone has fallen dreadfully ill or is in danger,” Obi-Wan reasoned and the others all nodded their agreement. Together, they set off into the mansion. They agreed not to venture anyway alone as they explored, finding room after room after room. They encountered many pieces of beautiful furniture and more than one piano, as well as empty rooms and bathrooms and everything else imaginable.

They went upstairs as well, finding more and more rooms with beautiful things, bedrooms joining the list of rooms. Once they’d explored the entire house and found no inhabitants, they trekked back downstairs and ventured out through the back doors.

The garden around the back was just as beautiful as the one out the front, hedges of green and ponds of clear. There were statues out here as well, ivy tangled around them in a beautiful contrast between the green and white.

As they moved around the corner Ahsoka gasped, and the others turned to her. “What is it?” Obi-Wan asked gently and she pointed to the statue in front of her. The statue looked identical to her - a Togruta with the very same markings as her. It looked to be wearing some sort of toga, the fabric wrapped around the Togrutan girl. She looked a year or two older than Ahsoka, the ivy wound around her torso and laying in the bridge between her montrals. 

“She looks exactly like me,” Ahsoka whispered, reaching her finger up to trace the marking on her cheek. “Only a little older and wearing… whatever that is.” 

“Must be a coincidence,” Rex spluttered, slightly disturbed at the idea of a statue of his sister in someone’s garden. “Perhaps your ancestor.”

“Perhaps,” she murmured, turning and shuffling behind her best friend. Rex hugged her quickly before they continued on. It only took them a minute for her to speak up again. “Look! That’s Skyguy!” 

The group turned to where Ahsoka was pointing and sure enough, another statue stood. This one was a human male, who looked exactly as Anakin did, only his hair slightly longer. He too was wearing clothing like a toga, and he even had the same scar. “That can’t be a coincidence,” Anakin muttered, pointing at the scar over his right eye. “That’s identical to mine.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Cody suggested hurriedly, shivering. 

But Obi-Wan stopped him.

“We should look at the other statues too, perhaps they might give us a hint as to what is going on,” he decided and the others reluctantly agreed. They quickly found another statue, this one of none other than Obi-Wan.

Only minutes later, they inspected the last two statues to find that they were Rex and Cody, also in togas - just like the rest of them. It was strange seeing them in clothing other than their armour, but their scars on their faces showed it was definitely them.

“Can we please go now?” Rex asked, itching to get out of the garden. He glanced back at the house, staring at the candle’s flickering in the windows. He was holding Ahsoka close to his chest, worry evident on his face as she nodded eagerly.

“I suppose we should,” Obi-Wan agreed, brow furrowed. “But I am confused. How and why are the statues of us in this garden?” They all murmured their agreement, trying to come up with a reasonable explanation, but to no avail.

“Because,” a gentle, silky voice called from behind them and the five turned to see a young woman - around Anakin’s age - with stormy grey eyes, long wavy golden hair and tan skin, dressed in a strange white toga. “We’ve been awaiting your arrival.”

A/N: Hope you enjoyed!!! Send requests please!!!

(taglist: @transmascanakin, @techs-goggles9902, @skellymom)

[darkdimension]

ANONYMOUS ASKS // Clea, when are you gonna nail Stephen? Man needs to be folded like a laptop yesterday!

There's a sigh at the pesky shade that's wander its way past the wards and into the sanctum. No doubt tracked in from Stephen's trip to the graveyard upon the request that something unusual was happening there. It's been here for three days now of the uninvited guest of whom she has not been given permission send the wisp away. Now it has become so comfortable and bold in her home to make observations about her relationship with Stephen Strange.

The faltine is a woman who takes what she wants, and she so does want Stephen Strange. However be that as it were, there is something fun about teasing the man. Testing his boundaries and willpower, she wants to cave so badly. She wants HIM to cave so badly that so she could meet him with twice the intensity of whatever he gives her.

And yet here they are with a faceless apparition, ❝ See that would require for @timeisbrain to do more than stare, wave, and make three sounds. ❞

[seraphicyamchalover77]

.

.

.

"You can't be sexy if you weren't sexy to begin with"

🕯 DAY 2: “Eyes Without a Face”

📅 Date: May 18th, 2003

📍 Location: Kame House – Guest Room (Back Wall Facing the Sea)

🕰️ Time: 2:47 PM

🔋 Battery: 36%

📶 Reception: 2 bars – intermittent

🔒 Encrypted Note

(Password-protected: "LupineLothario")

📖 >ENTRY START:

[INTRO: “Her face was never the point.”]

I barely slept. My body did that thing where it shuts down out of pure exhaustion, but your brain’s still spinning—buzzing, foaming, foaming like something’s going to boil over and stain everything.

That photo from last night won’t leave my mind.

Not just the GI. Not just the creepy intimacy of it.

It’s the cropped face.

It’s always the face.

Or lack of one.

I went down to the dock today with a rusted fishing rod and a knife tucked under my sleeve. Found nothing. No footprints this time, no unfamiliar scents. Just the stink of seaweed and the knowledge that someone out there knows me too well.

.

.

.

At 9:13 AM, I got another message.

📨 >RECEIVED FILE - [Multimedia Message, 9:13 AM]

📎 Attachment: JPEG (mid-torso shot, high contrast)

📎 Attachment: Audio File (.AMR format)

🗨️ Anonymous Text:

“do u wanna feel like a man again, yamcha-sama?

or r u still broken from that leg?

lemme help. i wanna know what it's like…

to be ruined. 💋”

🔍 >PHOTO ANALYSIS:

Same cropping. But this time she’s closer to the camera.

This time, she’s covering her chest with one arm. The other is loosely clutching a heart-shaped mirror with pink rhinestones. Her skin’s a warm shade of brown, with faint silver glitter across her collarbone. Light hits her just right—it looks intentional, like a set.

There’s heavy eye makeup visible in the mirror’s reflection.

But it’s blurred.

Almost deliberately smeared.

Her fingers have those little decals gyaru girls wear—sparkly, tacky, but artistic. There’s kanji on one nail: “愛” – love.

The background? A train station locker room. I can tell by the safety pamphlet behind her—pink poster that reads “安全の目を忘れないで!” (“Don’t forget the eye of safety!”) with an eyeball character in a hard hat.

🧠 >SYMPTOMS LOGGED:

Tension headache

Bloodshot eyes

Loss of libido (in spite of content received)

Growing sense of dread

Distorted perception of time

Sound hallucinations: “I’m behind the curtain.”

🔊 >VOICE MESSAGE TRANSCRIPT (Partial):

🗣️ Voice (Female, 20s, bubbly but breathy—like she’s forcing the tone):

"...Yamcha-san~ I was thinking… hnnn… if you could just… if you wanted to… pretend I'm someone else tonight… mmfh… I'm not good at this... s-sorry…"

(1.6 seconds of muffled static)

"You don’t have to love me... I just wanna feel it... once... with you. You're the only one who fought a God and still bleeds like a man."

📁 End of Message

I felt violated.

Like someone jammed a rusty spoon into my ribs and stirred. Not because of the voice. But because I know that kind of desperation. I’ve been there—grasping for validation like it’s air, even if it’s fake.

But this girl?

This girl’s on another level.

📱 >TEXT THREAD (8:00 am– 10:43 am):

Faceless Number:

“i wish i had ur scars. i’d carve a constellation from them 🌌”

“do u still sleep facing the door or do u like ur back exposed now?”

“why does everyone call u weak when ur smile hides so much ruin? ur my favorite warrior.”

“🩹”

“do u kno what a kogal is? i’m not really one. i mean, i try. idk. am i pretty or just trying too hard?”

“tell me yamcha. r u ready to make me feel like a woman?”

I didn’t respond.

🎮 >VISUAL NOVEL BRANCH: “Block Number” or “Let Her Spiral”

I almost blocked her.

But here’s the fucked-up part:

I’m starting to think this isn’t just obsession.

It’s not even about me.

She’s not sending these because she thinks I’m hot. She’s sending these because she sees herself in me.

She thinks we’re the same.

🔍 >PROFILE ESTIMATION – UNKNOWN SENDER:

Age: Likely early 20s

Style: Gyaru-influenced (possibly POC heavy makeup, thick Scottish accent in audio)

Psychological markers: Possible BPD or Histrionic traits, sexually repressed, likely a virgin (based on tone, oversharing, and desperation)

Social Awareness: Low. Texting style is erratic—alternating between poetic and childish. Craves dominance but lacks experience.

Technology Use: Uses emojis sparingly, but in unsettling ways. Sends .AMR files—likely a pink SHARP AQUOS SH-01J DOCOMO Flip Phone Keitai, new model, that phone is around $400 Zeni so she got money..

🖼️ >NEW PACKAGE (FOUND AT DOOR, 9:48 PM):

📦 Contents:

Strawberry lip gloss (half-used)

A gold hairclip shaped like a crescent moon

Polaroid of someone in my hoodie, sitting cross-legged on a pink shag carpet

Note in pink glitter pen:

"i wore it while i thought about u. u were loud in my head."

There are no return labels.

And she’s definitely been here.

My hoodie is gone. That one with the faded Capsule Corp. logo. I thought I misplaced it, but now…

📕 >CLOSING THOUGHTS:

I don’t know who she is.

I don’t know what she wants

But I know this: she watches me like I’m a rerun. Like she’s memorized the beats of my pain and decided they’re hers now.

Bulma still won’t return my calls.

Roshi asked me why I looked “haunted.”

And I told him I’m being hunted by a girl with no face who thinks I’m the only one that can break her in half.

I didn’t laugh.

Neither did he.

— 📱Yamcha’s Log – End of Day 2.

🛌 Sleep mode not activated.

🔒 Note encrypted.

If this is what new love looks like in the 2000s… God help the future.

.

.

.

END ENTRY.

📁 Saved to: “WOLF.LOG”

🔔 Reminder set for 6:30 AM – Change passcode. Check windows.

.

.

[nakedbased]

A New Shell

Zack is looking forward to the order he made. This ninja turtle costume will be all the rage this evening. The doorbell resonates. Zack comes to meet the delivery man.

Here is your order. Your product looks strong.

Thank you sir. Believe me, it's more than a product.

Huh huh signed there please.

Zack quickly signs the delivery man's paper and quickly returned to his apartment.

He unpacks the carton of the package of impatience and finally saw it.

The shell of a Ninja Turtle. Only the shell because it already had what it needed for the rest. He didn't wait any longer. He undressed on the spot. Naked like a worm, he grabbed the shell, fixing it intensely. A strange but not unpleasant sensation runs through it. As if he had found something lost a long time ago. As a ghost member found.

And it was time to take it back. He gently puts on the shell. For several minutes, nothing happens. The sensation disappears, the excitement disappears as well as the satisfaction too. Zack felt stupid now, embarrassed even though he was alone, with no one to judge him on these impulses.

And like a good pie that would be given to a badly educated dirty kid to put him back in his right place, a flash pain manifests itself. Such a pain that makes Zack bend on his knees. The shell had tightened are hugged on him, enough to feel these bones being crushed by the pressure of this thing. He felt liquid dripping from the orifices where his arms and legs pass. He thought it could only be his blood but it was otherwise.

It was a strange fluorescent multicolored sticky liquid that drips. Suddenly when Zack wanted to get up, he immediately fell back, as if something had caught one of his legs. When he saw what he was, he couldn't help but utter a cry of terror when his right leg folded into himself. But the most frightening thing is that he did not feel any pain at any time. The leg folded until it entered the orifice from which it previously came out. His neighbor was starting to do the same. But not only her, because both arms did it too. They all folded into the shell simultaneously. All that remained was Zack's head that came out of the shell.

The liquid always continued to flow from the shell. From Zack's neck too he came out of it... as well as something else.

A three-fingered jade hand springs from Zack's collar. Three other hands of different shades each followed. They grabbed Zack's face and deformed him. Stretch, deform, tear, knead etc...

His face was completely ousted. In the end there was only a faceless head left. And brutally, the four hands pushed the anonymous head into the shell.

After nothing more. The shell had stopped, bathing in this strange fluorescent juice. Finally the shell began to tremble. And made a surprising leap, crashing to the ceiling. He cleared himself and began to jump in all directions of the apartment, putting a brothel not possible in the place. He started to flow from this bizarre substance again. He put it everywhere. From the walls to the ceiling. He jumps, bounces, bounces, bounces non-stop. Until the ground puts an end to it.

The shell crushes violently, making a good crater in the floor, ending with a geyser of the liquid through the two apparent orifices. Shortly after, two well-muscled greenish legs spring from the two orifices. They look for the floor for a while until they touch the floor with one of these two toes. They take support to push. Then it was two very muscular greenish arms that gushed out of two other orifices. They look for the ground for a while until they touch the floor with one of these three fingers. They took support to push, and pushed like never before. It was obvious that it was this head he was trying to clear from the mini crater. And they pushed again like a madman.

His head came out with such violence that he almost made a backflip. Shakeing his head with vertigo, the creature gets up with difficulty, without falling back with nausea. He finally succeeds with the help of a dresser that miraculously was not a victim of the ravages of the bouncing shell. A mirror had also come out of it. He lives himself. He didn't have the words. His jade green face was now that of a ninja turtle! Everything is similar to the four brothers of the sewers, one detail... He had beautiful hair. A beautiful bright brown. Zack that in some versions, mutants in shells could develop hair (Mikey in particular). Probably a side effect of mutagen. He clears the locks to better see these shiny golden eyes.

I... I am me. Finally me. Thank God.

The ground began to tremble. The apartment vibrated violently. He was also changing. Because of this liquid that had sprinkled from all over the apartment. The wallpaper walls gave way to warm brick walls with trendy posters. Garlands cling to the ceiling on all sides. The windows now overlooked a completely different New York. A New York to locals like him. Zack only realized now that he was dressed. A casual trendy outfit. He opened the window to see this world that seemed much more inclined to welcome him but someone was calling him.

Hey bro! Are you coming for the movie night or not!? There's the good chantilly burger pizza that you love!

O-yeah, I'm coming right away Mikey!

He went to the exit when he looked in the mirror again.

I know my name now. My real name. My name is Sandro Hamato. I live a peaceful life in New York with my brothers and sisters. I love this life. And I will love it until the end.

And he went down to make an evening that he will cherish until the end.

[shdwtouch]

Hey Puffin, if it's any help, I don't need anon to send you over some well deserved love. I also wanted to say how much I adore Shade and everything you’ve created with her. The depth and mystery you’ve woven into her backstory and I love how you’ve developed her conflicted relationship with her faith and her purpose! ❤️Also, you’re such a kind and positive presence on the dash, and it’s clear how much you care about making everyone feel welcome and appreciated. Thanks for being such a bright light in the community!

aijnajhlhbflhjfbaehufjb I'm tired so words are hard rn but I didn't want to leave this in my inbox any longer ; w ; I appreciate you / this so much ! literally made me cry a bit when this popped into my inbox after I mentioned the positive anons.

you're just out here, spreading anonymous love in spite of folks not having anon on like. this is the kind of blank blog I want to see. spreading faceless positivity, not faceless hate, or spam. A+ anon, gold star. you're doing something amazing.

and I. needed this pickmeup. truly. thank you so fucking much. hugs !!

[ednaodfsw2024]

The Street Pavers by Umberto Boccioni

Module 3: Abstract Images

Umberto Boccioni, an Italian futurist artist and sculptor, created The Street Pavers in 1914, which offered a vibrant picture of the contemporary worker. The artist presented an oil canvas scene of backbreaking labor from an urban surrounding. The artist made the anonymous laborers indistinguishable with his creative use of surging color and rhythmic brushstrokes. Boccioni was a strong proponent of intuition, even though his work reflected the dynamism and social upheaval he saw around him. He strongly emphasized the machine's dynamism, speed, energy, power and vitality, change, and restlessness of contemporary existence. As a futurist, Umberto was displeased with Italy's deteriorating standing. This unpleasant motion led to a creative movement of a new global order in the early 20th century that would emerge from the "Machine Age." He believed that promoting speed and the working class would bring about change. Later, during World War I, while serving as a volunteer in the Italian army, Boccioni passed away at the age of thirty-three.

Boccioni used contour shapes to form lines and convey speed. He created methods for conveying motion and speed to produce an art of energy and vitality. The artist also employed brushstrokes that produced bold, irregular lines. He used lines to represent movement in many colors and directions. Although curved lines have a gentle, flowing appearance, tension and mobility appear via the diagonal lines. The artist's usage of horizontal and vertical lines, as well as right angles, was modest. The darker lines are the most prominent. Lines might be jagged, curved, or short. Short, straight lines give the impression of large quantities, like bent heads and working hands. The lines elevated the painting of scents, sounds, and commotions. Shapes control the lines with emotion by incorporating passion and continuity into the design.

Furthermore, the vibrant colors convey information about drive and motivation. The tones present are gloomy but dynamic, nonetheless. Certain hues on the canvas are a mixture of vivid impact and fading shades. Variable details and a lively ambiance use light and dark tones. It is impressive to see how different colors highlight the oil canvas. With the energy and movement, it aims to give a perspective of the surroundings. The picture's main subject is a figure who appears to be kneeling on the ground and facing the surface. The black circle attached to the white pastel with the pink and blue brushstrokes calls attention to the painting's central figure, a faceless figure that symbolizes the motion of laborers' hard work. This close-up of the individual doing the action shows how each figure harmoniously participates in the activity. An intense sensation of strength conveys a high degree of emphasis and intensity, represented by the saturation of several hues. The artist conveyed a feeling of flexibility, exceptional resilience, and long-lasting impression.

Overall, the oil painting has a sense of depth and brilliance. The picture depicted a two-dimensional surface with specific boundaries and a textured surface. The painting is smooth, with some distinct edges. The design, arranged on an uneven grid, comprises rhythmic pulses and a dramatic background of dark and light earth tones. The work of art gives the impression of depth and volume. The painting's space conveys asymmetry, density, crowdedness, and clutter. The painting's intense lighting highlights focus and pattern. For instance, the light seems to show the laborers' backs, emphasizing their posture of diligent work. The painter depicted the entire power in a visual area of awareness. It uses the image of people moving in unison to depict positive space.

I chose this painting because it conveys a sense of vibrancy and positive depth amidst catastrophic emotions from existing in an unsteady, chaotic, and uneven world. This painting demonstrates a regular, harmonious, and upbeat mental state. I work in an environment where disparate treatments exist. The immense significance of labor is sometimes overlooked or underappreciated in organizations. It is tough to avoid the disappointments and even setbacks one might experience. This painting conveys that good things come to those who roll up their sleeves and put in the effort. This painting denotes humility in the face of humiliation. It reminds me to keep my feet on the ground. Even though the world is unpredictable and uncertain, we exhibit a consistent, harmonious, and positive mental state and put great effort into achieving our goals.

[darckcarnival]

🎃HELLO GHOSTS AND/OR GHOULS!🎃

You have been randomly selected for this years All Hallows Eve Wing-Ding. If you wish to partake in the seasonal fun, then please see below for the "costumes" available to you at this time. Select one and YOU'RE DONE! This promotion spans until November 1st, where all changes will henceforth be rescinded. Please tag all posts with "#Halloween Event".

Disregard if there is no desire to participate.

WeAreNotHeldResponsibleForAnyDuress,Physical,OrEmotionalyInclinedToOurProducts.SideEffectsMayInclude,ButAreNotLimitedTo;ChangesInAppetite,Stature,MoralAlignment,Vision,Heliophobia,Anthropophobia,Nausea,ExtraOrReductionOfLimbs,BloodLust,Etc.UsersDiscressionAdvised.

PLEASE CHOOSE ONE TO PARTICIPATE:

Leprechaun

Kappa

Slime

Darck paused in her coffee break to look the message over, eyebrow perking upwards while her eyes witnessed the paper before her. Wing-Ding? Well that is already a cautionary red flag right there. Sure, it sounded like all fun and games in the way this was all worded, like going to involve someone in a fun party. But the magic and supernatural energy roiling around this little object was... Concerning, to say the least. This explained a lot.

And then she had to pause, squint, re-read the warning, as well as the options.

Wait.

A sudden shock went up her spine, an ever so familiar tingle running over each and every nerve of hers. Cold, unwelcome, invasive.

Nope. Instincts were strong, and knew damn well.

"Absolutely not. I have been transformed into enough weird things off the walls ranging from neko shit, into snake and weird dragon shit, I know when something is off. Nuh uh. Nope. Not a chance." And she immediately set fire to a corner of the page. Choosing not to take part what so ever. Instead did the brunette turn and rapidly walk the other way, anywhere but here, with that curse.

No more shape shifting for her, she was suffering enough in october.

[asicklydreamdemon]

What is your opinion of “50 Shades of Grey?” How do you feel about them using your name?

“I am not quite sure I fully know of what you are speaking of,” he pauses. Were they asking about his opinions on the colour grey? No. By the way they phrased it, they were speaking of something else... “Um, I suppose I don’t mind them using my name? My name is simply a colour after all. As long as they aren’t speaking of me specifically, I am fine with it?” 

[imtryingmybeskar]

Another little ficlet for Writer Wednesday with @autumnleaves1991-blog and @clydesducktape

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F! Reader. First time writing for Jack, though I have a half finished smutty something in the pipeline. Words: 1090 No real warnings, smut mildly implied?

No beta, written on my phone and at 2am so I really hope it makes any kind of sense.

Dear Jack

The letter fell from your grasp. Crumpled sheets of ready lined paper, the black ink of your heartbreak scrawled across them and blurred in places from tears that were not all your own.

He had told you that he wasn't the type to settle down. He had warned you that you shouldn't get so attached.

"You know you're too good for me, darlin'," he had whispered on more than one occasion, his thumb stroking over your cheek as you gazed adoringly into those big, dark eyes, their expression easily mistaken for innocence if you didn't know him.

The missive was full of the right things to say, the tone a perfect balance of sorrow, regret and taking responsibility. You hated every single letter. It was a work of fiction, crafted by the spy Agent Whiskey, not a true accounting by Jack Daniels - the man that you had so recently come to realise that you loved. It was sterile, faceless. Such an antithesis to his larger than life personality. Even his handwriting looked stilted and unnatural. And you didn't believe a word contained within. Picking it up, you brought it to your face to read it again, desperate for a glimmer of hope within its lines.

"My darling girl,

I must beg your forgiveness for doing this in this manner, but I am wholeheartedly a coward and I cannot face those beautiful eyes when I tell you that I am leaving. The Statesmen need someone who can withstand a lengthy period of isolation somewhere North of here. I cannot be more precise for obvious reasons, but I have volunteered my services to them.

I can be neither the man you think I am, nor the one you want me to be. I believe that if we continue on as we have been, there will be nothing but inevitable heartbreak ahead. I must go for the good of us both. And I hope that you find that person that does for you what I cannot.

Take care,

Jack x

It was the kiss at the end that finally pricked your misery through to anger. After you had shared so much more, how dare he end it with an anonymous, meaningless 'X'? How could he ever think that you would believe that he wasn't perfect for you? Like you would simply forget the joy and splendour of your time together if he insisted that it hadn't been so. As if halcyon days of passionate, sweet, intoxicating bliss came along every week.

Just as though the heavens themselves had heard your thoughts, the rain that had threatened to pour all afternoon finally cascaded in giant, fat drops that hissed against the concrete of your patio and slid in rivulets down the window panes. A low rumble of far away thunder could just about be heard over the cacophony of water.

You made up your mind. You were going to write back. And instead of a reserved, hushed tone, you were going to tell him exactly what you thought of him and his distorted nonsense about your time together. You'd deliver it personally to Statesmen HQ and made sure he saw you doing it. Stamping around your living room and muttering vague threats against Jack's person, you began rifling through the shelves of your bookcase. The pad of notepaper you were sure had been there a few days ago was gone. Had he really taken the last of your paper to write his breakup letter to you?! The audacity shouldn't have astounded you - this was Jack after all - but it did. And it only made you angrier.

You stuffed your feet into your shoes and grabbed your bag, determined to go out and buy a new notepad before the heat of your anger trickled away to sadness again. But as you approached the front door you saw it, hastily stuck to the back and scrawled in Jack's true hand.

P.S.

I never told you, but I was falling in love.

Now that was more like Jack. To impart that fragment of devastating knowledge at the last second and go. Either because he couldn't face you not knowing the truth or because he couldn't bear the dishonesty within himself. You stifled a sob and covered your mouth with your hand.

No! Remember your anger! Remain angry and let him have it. But it was too late, if indeed your fury had ever really been anything more or less than misplaced grief. It wasn't paper you needed, you decided. It was a drink. Carefully untaping the postscript from its inconspicuous position, you folded it and put it into your wallet before opening the door.

And there he was, your black eyed cowboy. On your doorstep with his head dipped low, presenting you with the top of his hat instead of his face, rain dripping from its brim, and darkening his suit to a deeper shade of blue.

"Darlin', I...I had to see you-" he began, his voice low and choked. You stepped forward and cupped his face in your hands, gently raising it so he was looking at you. His eyes looked even bigger than usual and they were full of glassy sorrow.

"Are you really going, Jack? If you're really going please have the decency to look me in the eyes and tell me you're going."

"No, I...I don't think I can. I'm so sorry for that letter honey. I just didn't know how else to let you go."

"Why do you have to let me go at all?"

"Because I'm scared that I'll lose you. Like I lost everything else good in my life. You're so good. We're so good. I can't lose you, I just can't." You smiled at him and stroked your thumbs over the corner of his mouth, at the tips of his moustache.

"Jack Daniels, the only way you will lose me is if you push me away. Now come inside out of the rain." He smiled half a smile, as if he couldn't really believe what he was hearing. Taking his hands, you added in a low voice and with the quirk of an eyebrow, "And we'll get you warmed up too, cowboy." With that he smiled at you fully and it was as if the sun had dawned over his face.

"I really don't deserve you," he murmured as he leaned in for a kiss.

"I can think of several ways you can make it up to me," you whispered back as his lips met yours.

[bebx]

To that anon, no, I didn’t respond to your message directly because I stopped reading the second you said I “wasn’t there” when the abuse took place, therefore I shouldn’t support him despite all the evidences proving his innocence. I deleted your first message and I deleted your second message without reading beyond the ‘you didn’t respond directly to me because whatever-I-did-not-read-beyond-that’, because I’d rather believe court documents, police/medical record, dozens of eyewitness, and audiotapes which she admitted to having abused her spouse in her own voice, than a faceless person who had to hide behind the anonymous option barking at me in my inbox.

Because I’d rather get the truth by actually watching the trial and reading actual documents, so I could make my own decision, than by listening to a faceless dude or karen in my tumblr inbox

This will be the last time I give you my attention and publicly talk about you. Thanks for letting me know you stalk me, even though I do not know you exist. You can continue having fun writing a paragraph to me and other millions of his supporters though. Sorry we’d rather believe evidences we can see with our own eyes than a faceless tumblr anon.

Ps. To all the other lovely anons in my inbox, no, this is not to throw shades at you for being anon. There’s nothing wrong with being anon and I do love each and every one of you a lot. I just find it adorable when it’s an anon who had to ‘hide behind anon option’ because they know they’re just being hateful and would rather not show their face for this reason.

Anyway, justice for Johnny Depp ♡

[darckcarnival]

Vampire question, can you drink just about any blood and be fine?

"Interesting question, but fun fact, while most blood can indeed feed me and be fine, I do still have to pay attention!"

"Like most normal people and normaly food, we have to gauge the quality of the blood we're drinking, unless in a dire situation of course. For example, taste? All blood types taste different, on top of the different diets and intake of the individuals whose blood we take in. Some are more tart, others more metallic, so on and so forth. And some even sweet."

"However, the draw backs can also be horrid. Drinking the blood of someone who is drunk? Could easily cause me to be drunk as well. A poisoned person? I'd also get poisoned unless it means little to me, but it does let me identify the kind of poison... If I know what it does or feels like of course, thats a long story for another time. Such things can also take effects of infections or virus's, that can be a problem as well for creatures like me."

"Long story short; Much like how most people have to keep an eye on avoiding food poisoning or health, or some sort of corruption, so to do Vampire's need to takle care in what we drink."

[brooklynislandgirl]

👑 + Eddie Diaz (here starts the caveats. (1) I'm treating the question as "A Character That I Would Cream My Pants To Read Your Take On". (2) There is guilt in asking because I'm FC loyal and Garrett. (3) You know I'm sycophantic stalker and would adore anyone you wrote. )

Every Face a Different Shade || Accepting

WOULD I: YES / MAYBE / NO

As I have said multiple times now, Canon Characters {Andy not really included because I rescued him from Marvel's Man-Pain Bin Trash Can and given him a new life and a new outlook and pretty much everything other than the fact that he was Sam's wing-man and a Pararescue Jumper. I put some work in my grumpy old son, and I am proud of that. And you can ask @morgansmornings, I have been angry with Eddie Diaz for about 3 or 4 weeks now. On the other hand, I do love me some Christopher... But as you say, there's also quite a bit of FC loyalty and Ryan Guzman makes an awesome Garrett Knight.

HAVE I EVER BEFORE: YES / NO For me, I absolutely love the show and the character and unlike a lot of people I have seen on Tumblr, I don't often feel the need to make a muse/blog out of everything I consume, enjoy, identify with, and so on. I don't have that kind of time {I already have 4 muses, two and a half of which are terribly, horribly neglected -- Riley only counts as half because a good bit of the time he's the asshole who is being uncooperative --} or the energy due to various rl reasons/obligations/blah blah blah to do one more muse. Who would likely only sit there, gathering dust, in contemplation of the things he's done to upset me, while getting the kind of followers who don't get me or my Djinni gig. C'est la vie. Bonus: If I absolutely DID lose my mind and make an Eddie Blog, I would have to make a Christopher side-blog that I would end up playing more than Eddie because that kid is fricken ADORABLE:

ICON & WRITING SAMPLE (IF YES TO EITHER PREV. QUESTION):

He stares at the screen and puts the beer to his lips. Christopher's in bed, asleep for the last hour. Exactly where he should be too, in his own bed for the first time this week, sleeping off the worst of the job. But instead he's on this laptop. Talking with a faceless stranger who could be anyone and anywhere. Not even a camera in use, to ensure anonymity. This is the first step toward compromise. He refuses to go to grief counselling because he doesn’t need it. Nor does he need a shrink to tell him his brief brushes with post traumatic stress is something they should resolve over who knows how many sessions, when he’s got enough to deal with when it comes to his son’s health. And he sure as hell isn’t going to bother the captain with all of this because he made a promise to Buck. It is so strange sitting here and telling his problems to a computer screen. To have his thoughts panned, viewed from a very outside source. The silences in between exchanges impossible to drag the depths of. The pervasive feeling of judgement before words appear as if by magic. He reads them the way some people might devour a handful of potato chips at a single go, and finds himself snorting at them. There’s a bland quietude scattered in the long passage and he shakes his head. Barking up the wrong tree. He exits the chat and closes the screen before taking another long pull from his beer.