#i want to get better at shading textiles

[ribbonsart]

i love me some women in suits <3

[vintagesimstress]

Proto-tartan Patterns

Once my new colour palettes were ready, I could finally move to the thing which prompted their remake in the first place: meaning, a total overhaul of the tartan(-esque?) swatches I use for recolouring stuff.

Remember my old set of tartan patterns? I've been gradually getting less and less happy with them. Sure, they were pretty, no doubt - a little bit too pretty. Kind of complex. Kind of time-consuming to make. Kind of... not screaming 'iron age'. And not at all consistent with the colour palette I was using at the time. So I decided to remake them.

Completely. From scratch.

This time I wanted to be smarter. This time I had a vision. And a plan.

Hear me out.

(or just DOWNLOAD them from my Patreon - as always all free from day one - if you don't feel like reading this dissertation; why does it always get so long ffs...)

So the thing is - we don't know much about how pre-Roman Britons dressed. They left no written records and, as their textiles were, obviously, organic, they decomposed long ago, so archaeology is of little help as well. However, there's one thing we do know, as all ancient writers agree on it: namely, that their clothing was strikingly 'colourful'. Considering Romans themselves had better access to vibrant dyes and textiles, that probably wasn't it; and so it's a truth universally acknowledged (or at least believed) that said 'colourfulness' was a result of insular Celts using multi-coloured patterns, as opposed to Roman monochrome style. How exactly those patterns looked, we have no way of knowing. Some interpret it simply as stripes; others as some chequered patterns; and others dare to call it proto-tartan. I went with the last one.

Trying to come up with swatches which would make sense for those times was a tricky task - you know? Because on the one hand, I didn't want them to be obviously anachronistic; and imagining a life of a Brittonic commoner woman, I could see that she'd have no time and energy left to make literally any of my old tartan swatches. What would a farmer's wife wear? She'd be making her clothes herself, of course - so what would she go for? Something simple, not that time-consuming, not requiring too much concentration. Maybe two shades of natural wool; maybe dyeing some skeins of white wool some easily accessible colour; maaaybe two dyed colours, if she liked to dress up. But dyeing her wool ten different colours and then weaving them into beautiful, perfectly symmetrical patterns, like the ones from my old set? I think not.

Then again, we have that ugly tendency of assuming people in the past were somehow 'lower' then us, especially when it's about illiterate societies. Yet every now and then archaeologists find old textiles which miraculously survived millennia, and time and time again we're flabbergasted by how intricate they are, how well-made, how fine, how... Damn expensive. I have no reason to believe it was any different in case of ancient Britons. Whatever a Celtic chieftess wore, she surely wasn't running around in a potato sack; and considering Roman officials would probably interact mostly with the richer members of the society, it makes sense that their 'wooooow, so colourful' comments were inspired mostly by those upper-class garments.

And so I decided to invent and implement a kind of class-stratification system, i.e. different pattern rules for different social classes. Totally arbitrary, totally made up, totally not backed by any sources - just a simple product of the time I spent wondering 'what would've made sense'. Oh, and this time all the colours come from my new palette(s), so it's all consistent. I found an online tartan maker and got to work.

See? I told you I had a plan.

The free version of the tartan maker let me mix maximum of 5 colours and I happily agreed to this limit, basing the bulk of my rigid social classes' system exactly on this: the number of colours used. Their provenience also played a role. And of course I went for the holy number of 85 swatches - divided into five groups:

Group I - lower class casual dress. Five patterns only in undyed wool, 20 patterns in one shade of undyed wool + one dyed colour. Altogether 25 swatches;

Group II - lower class fancy dress & middle class casual dress. Two dyed colours, only from the northern palette. 20 swatches;

Group III - middle class fancy dress & upper class casual dress. Three colours, whichever, including the imported ones, with the exception of Roman luxury dyes (kermes, turmeric, saffron, Tyrian purple). Again 20 swatches;

Group IV - upper class fancy dress. Four colours, whichever, even the luxury ones. I guess not too many sims could land so high on top, so it's only 10 swatches;

Group V - aka 'when you're the chief of the most powerful tribe on the isle and you've conquered anything of value so you're basically a king'. Five colours, whichever, most swatches with heavy emphasis on the luxury dyes. Another 10 swatches.

Here you can see the difference visualised on a dress I'm currently working on (don't pay too close attention to alignment and such, it's still a wip). For example, a progression of different purple & yellow combos:

See the difference? We went all the way from birch mixed with elderberry to Tyrian purple mixed with saffron. (Which, btw... Can you get any posher than that???)

Or the progression of reds and yellows. The last swatch looks almost like the first one from the old set (yup, I took lots of inspiration from it when I was struggling to design those 4 or 5 colour combos):

And here another swatch from group V, just because I love it. Perfect for a sim who's rich and not afraid to show it:

That's woad, kermes, saffron and turmeric you're seeing here. In your face peasants.

So. That was a very long post about a very niche thing that probably not many people care about 😅 But if you, dear gentle reader, do care and think you might find those patterns useful, grab that 7z package and enjoy! (download link, in case you missed it, HERE).

PS. They're all 64x64, so you should be able to safely use them as swatches' thumbnails too!

PS2. And of course they're seamless. That felt too obvious to need mentioning ;)

[bethany-sensei]

So anyway,

Tempest and Textiles

As a growing adolescent bodyguard who frequently got blood on his clothes, Tempest decided that wearing black was a better option than appearing in public beside Caspar while wearing obvious bloodstains. This being a country with Renaissance-level technology, black fabric mainly appears in the form of naturally black wool.

Pro: it’s cheaper because it really can’t be dyed any color except More Black

Con: availability is limited to whatever the livestock produce

After returning to his home kingdom, Caspar tried to impress upon his bodyguard/bff that he needed actual court attire now. Tempest said “ugh, fine” and set out to make it happen in shades of black. He had some knowledge of alchemy from his magic studies, and was already on friendly terms with the spinners and weavers who supply his black wool. They introduced him to their dye-witch friends (yes, the dyers in this country are called dye-witches, because it looks magical). He worked with them for years to create dye recipes for black satin and velvet and so on. Tempest is now widely popular with the workers at every level of textile production, and he’s the only person who doesn’t have to pay luxury prices for the ✨Latest New Black✨ that he’s definitely helped make popular anyway, just by existing close to Caspar. (Caspar himself infuriates the majority of his noble cousins by preferring to dress like a merchant for all but the most formal of occasions, but that’s not relevant to this post.)

To recap: Tempest has an edgelord name that he acquired mostly by accident, he has an edgelord wardrobe that he acquired half out of pragmatism, and he prefers to kill with his hands rather than magic, even though by his mid-twenties he could just vaporize people with the power of his mind if he wanted to. Oh, yeah, and there’s that wing kink.

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

WIP Wednesday

I'm still trundling along over here... my biggest project right now is the Hermit embroidery. Which I have been avoiding by doing all the other, smaller pieces I've posted lately, because I put WAY too many annoying tiny sections in this pattern 😭

Luckily last night I finally finished those two loopy blue sections , which I started like a month ago. Honestly I regret my shading/color selection here a bit in several ways, but it's too much to redo (and I'd rather die probably) so I will just stick it out. I don't think it will look BAD but not perfect. Oh well. Once the rest of the colors and thread are in it will look better, though it'll probably be another 30-40 hours of stitching even though what's left will hopefully be a lot faster.

I don't think I've posted any WIPs of this yet in part because I tried a different spray adhesive to attach the stabilizer to the back, and it left these gross looking dark spots on the front of the fabric. They won't be visible when it's done or anything but it annoys me greatly to look at them as I stitch. I'm so sorry ProStick Textile Spray Adhesive I will never forsake you again in favor of another 😭

Second thing I'm working on/avoided all my real work to hyperfixate on today, is I wanted to join in that flower-face trend... i thought since the original inspo image had the kintsugi-esque look plus cracked off parts it'd work really well translated to my stained glass images hahaha. I vectorize'd my Lavellan's whole face from a screenshot (so I can have an intact stained glass portrait of her too), and my intent once I've colored/textured/etc it to look like glass, go in and draw on top to look like it was broken/fell down/has plants growing through it now. I do very much suspect my artistic vision FAR exceeds my actual artistic talent here but yknow whatever, i'll see how far i get.

(Jacinth's screenshot was taken by the wonderful @i-a-w-v ♥︎)

[dipperdesperado]

dreaming and IRL worldbuilding

I’ve been doing some talking about getting into radicalism and how to organize. You can do that first—you have a feeling that things need to change and you just act. At some point though, I think it’s important to start thinking from a longer-term perspective. That's where visioning comes in.

To know how to change the world, we should know what we want it to look like. Solarpunk is a great example of this—giving us aspirational visuals and vistas for how the world could look if we got our shit together. This is what a vision is in a nutshell.

Once we have have an understanding of what we want the world to look like, we have to figure out how to get there. This is where things start to become interesting. To me, values are like guiding principles that we ground our actions in. To come up with values, think about the ethics and principles that are embedded in your vision. If we think about solarpunk, some values that I see are ecological harmony, intersectional feminism, and economic democracy.

When we have our vision and values in place, we can think about the specific things that we want to accomplish. Our goals should be relatively concrete things that we can build strategies around. What are the material changes that you want to happen? What are the specific, tangible things that you can work towards? If it’s too broad (ex: “I want to abolish the commodity form”), then that might be one of the descriptors of your vision.

So, you create a vision → which informs your values → and dictates your goals.

To develop a vision, put on your dreaming goggles. Imagine what the world can look like. Try to engage your senses. What do you see? What do you hear? What does it smell like?

To develop your values, look at that vision, analyze the implied material and social contexts and use those as guiding lights.

To develop your goals, think about the specific things you can work towards, acting within your values, to create fertile ground for your vision to flourish.

To wrap up, I want to walk through a vision of a better world. If you want some homework, you can derive some values and goals from that.

---

As I leave my house for the day, I step out onto a quiet city street. The air is crisp and filled with the scent of freshly bloomed flowers and the subtle aroma of earthy, homegrown herbs. The street is lined with majestic, towering trees, their leaves dancing in the gentle breeze, casting shattered shadows on mosaic sidewalks below.

As I walk along the street, I hear the melodies of birds chirping, flitting from mossy building to wild rooftop. The sound of laughter and lively conversations fills the air, as people gather in community spaces and reclaimed streets.

The buildings themselves are architectural wonders, adorned with solar panels and living walls that burst with vibrant vegetation. They harmoniously blend into the surrounding natural landscape, their design inspired by historical ecological buildings. These buildings are not just structures; they are living organisms, integrated with the ecosystem, providing shade, shelter, and sustenance for both humans and wildlife.

Streets are bustling with activity, but they are not dominated by cars. Instead, it is a pedestrian-friendly space where people of all ages and abilities move freely and safely. Electric trams silently glide by, their sleek design reflecting the beauty of their surroundings.

Local artisans and worker-owners have set up vibrant market stalls, showcasing their handmade creations and locally sourced goods. Vibrant textiles, handcrafted jewelry, and organic produce catch the eye. Neighbors stop to chat, share stories, and exchange ideas.

In the distance, I see a community forest garden, a lush oasis of greenery where residents gather to cultivate their own food. The garden is a testament to space reclaimed by the people, fostering a sense of ownership and connection to the land.

As I continue my walk, I feel a sense of hope and possibility. This city is a testament to the power of collective action and the transformative potential of dreaming and envisioning a better world.

[doctors-journal]

8 August

Mum and dad convinced me to set up an appointment with a counsellor and today was the day. It was all the way in London, since I guess that’s where I’ve been living. I told them I could take the train, but mum and dad insisted on driving me and making a day of it, like we did when I was a kid.

Even though dad was taking the day off for family time, he and mum were up early anyway—they both get up much earlier than the detective. It’s been over a week, but they were still surprised to see that I was up first.

“You’ve become an early riser,” mum said as she joined me for breakfast.

I shrugged. “Doctors have to be up at all hours.”

Dad gave me a look. “So long as you’re getting enough sleep.”

At least I don’t think I’ve been shouting so much the past few nights.

The appointment was fine. I didn’t learn anything I didn’t already know. The counsellor told me to try not to be so hard on myself. She’s right, it’s not helping anyone, but it’s not like it would help anyone if I stopped worrying about it either.

Thankfully, mum and dad didn’t say too much afterward. Today was one of those nice, unseasonably cool, rainy days that London gets. Mum and dad didn’t want to walk in the rain, so we wandered through a gallery. I spent some time looking at the featured exhibit—a striking parade of human figures made out of printed textiles. Otherwise we just meandered through the halls, alternately admiring and puzzling at the art.

We went to a cafe for lunch and then spent a little while in a park afterward since the sky had cleared. It was a really nice day. The trees provided plenty of shade, their lush leaves still dripping with rain. There were some late summer flowers in bloom and squirrels chasing each other around the trees, and little robins flitting across the path.

Dad talked about work a bit, and mum conveyed some well-wishes from the neighbours. Most of my old school friends have moved on, but that’s old news. I mostly listened. In the lulls in the conversation I found myself wondering about how the detective is doing, but I’m sure he’s busy occupying himself with his Moriarty. Perhaps he has even found some other poor chap to drag along on his cases.

I also discovered something while we were out and I’ve just flipped back through my journal and confirmed it.

While we were walking in the park, the detective came up in conversation somehow, and mum asked, “What’s his name again? I know it’s over between you, but I feel like all I ever knew was that he’s a detective.”

“That’s about all I knew too,” I replied, “that he wants to be Sherlock Holmes and will accept no substitutes.”

“You wanted to be Doctor Who,” dad pointed out.

“Yes, when I was a boy. I grew out of it.”

“But you still want to save the world,” mum said.

“Not the world, just…” I couldn’t find the right words to argue.

I don’t even know what saving the world means. It’s definitely not solving crimes or even working in the hospital, and I’m not even doing that anymore.

What I said about the detective wasn’t entirely true either. I did know him, at least I thought I did. Underneath the cool, aloof facade, there was an infectious, nervous energy, a teasing sense of humour, and unshakable determination. God, I can’t believe I actually miss him.

And the whole time we were together, I don’t think I once thought of him by his name, or even wrote it in my journal. That’s what my mum’s question made me realise, and I just confirmed it. He called me “Doctor” and I just thought of him as “the detective.” For that matter, I’ve hardly used anyone else’s name either.

I guess I got so used to trying to keep my professional distance. Of course, I had to know my patients’ names to keep track of their records, but I tried not to get to know them too well, and I don’t remember most of them now. I couldn’t get too attached because they might be dead by morning. They all deserve better than that.

Well, for the record, the detective’s name—my ex’s name—is not Sherlock Holmes, though I’m sure he wishes it was. His name is Justin. I hope he’s not doing anything too stupid chasing after that Moriarty of his.

Now I want a cigarette, but I shouldn't.

Mum’s working on dinner now. I just wanted some space to compose my thoughts in between all the family time. But dinner smells good. Maybe I’ll go see if I can help.

[mikimeiko]

Day 15 - Brno (Czechia)

I do manage to wake up earlier than yesterday! I decide to go check out the (formerly) industrial part of the city, starting with a walk alongside the Svitava river: there's a footpath/bike lane that goes along an old rail track that used to serve the factories (mostly textile mills) built on the riverside.

It's very pretty but even with no direct sun the weather is still pretty hot (and humid today), and even in the shade of the trees of a small park on the way it's not pleasant enough to just stop for a while and read.

So I decide to make the most of my 24h ticket that will expire in a couple of hours and go to Stránská Skála, a rock formation just out of the city (there's a tram that goes there. I LOVE taking trams to places outside cities). I wasn't sure what to expect, but I end up hiking to the top following a gentle enough path through trees and fields full of flowers.

I'm sure the view would be better if it wasn't overcast, but on the other hand most of the path is out of the trees and it would have been very hard to walk in the scorching sun. For the entire time I'm there I only see a couple of people, but I guess if you live here you just don't chose a day like today to go on the rock.

(I love places like these, gentle hikes that most people can enjoy. I live in a superflat valley right next to the Alps, the hikes that are usually available to me are INTENSE. But I don't want intense! I want gentle, calm and beautiful. That's why I particularly enjoyed walking the coast paths in the UK, I discovered a love of hiking there that I never thought I would have).

In the afternoon the sky clears up, the humidity lowers and the breeze comes back: it's nice enough that I decide to check out the bit of old town I haven't seen yet (there are still parts to be seen! This city is big!) and the park that surrounds Spilberk fortress.

It's a beautiful park but it's literally all up hill, and most of the paths are quite steep. I sit on a bench reading for a bit, enjoying the atmosphere. Then I climb up a little more, and I'm rewarded with this beautiful view of the cathedral (I could very likely get better views from higher up but HAVE I MENTIONED HOW STEEP THE PATHS ARE?).

I pass through the old town hall and I'm reminded that I haven't shared with you the most beautiful dragon in the world!

When I took this picture there was a Spanish family there with a tiny kid, and the kid was like "a crocodile! No... a dragon!"

I go back for the last time to the beer festival, and have halušky with sauerkraut and smoked bacon. And a radler. And yes, SUMMER OF THE RADLER. I still haven't find one as good as the watermelon one from Vienna, but radler beats both beer and lemonade right now. (I tried lemonade yesterday, it was good but definitely too sweet).

I keep thinking this is my last night in Czechia but it's not! I'll be in Plzen tomorrow night! Still sad to say goodbye to Brno, though, I think it might be my favourite city in this trip.

[k00299393]

Movement-Fashion & Textiles

Colour

The next step for my garments was to introduce colour. Mairead had said do some with the colour we wanted from our movement brief but to also experiment with other colours as they may suit better. As I am displaying feelings for movement and specifically for fashion and textiles I'm displaying sadness and also self soothing when sad. So as per Plutchik's Wheel Model, blue depicts grief, sadness, pensiveness and remorse. So blue is one colour and I choose lavender as a second colour. Lavender is a shade of purple with slightly blue undertone. I suppose its the counter colour in a way and the comforting part as the lavender plant or oil made from this plant is used to reduce stress, anxiety and help with sleep.

Colour plan using blues and lavenders

I am pleased with this outcome especially the fourth image. It shows a blue outfit that is made up of a fit and flare trousers that has fabric draped down over the hips. A top with long bell sleeves and an image of a cat that was a cushion in my daughters room, I didn't edit the cat out as I felt it added to the design but also a lot of people seek comfort from our furry pets. Lastly it has a lavender hooded bolero ideally made of a soft fabric like teddy fleece or faux fur also adding comfort and the hood itself adding security, drawing inspiration from Rei Kawakubo's Comme des Garcons Women's RTW Spring 2023.

Here are my experiments with other colours

I enjoyed playing around with the colouring here. I decided to be bold with image one and I love the contrast between the skintone and the dress. I love the little black dress and its said that everyone's wardrobe should contain a little black dress as they are versatile, if I had the figure for something like this I would absolutely be wearing it. With the third image I was unsure of what colours to use but when I went back to the original I had made with the coloured cutout prints of my primary sources, I felt those colours really worked. So these colours and patterns mostly belong to my daughters duvet cover.

I have benefited from experimenting, I get why its imported to trial something that maybe you haven't yet considered because you just might find something better or that you prefer. But in this case I still prefer my original colours.

[chloeunit6]

Tower Research Page:

Here is my finished tower pages research page. I wanted to create a page for this topic in Japan as I had the extraordinary experience to visit and go up these towers as I had visited the Tokyo tower, The Sky Tree at Shibuya, and the Sky Capsule. I had taken quite a few photos of the outside and the view of the towers. I found the architecture to be amazing and the view to be stunning as you could see everything in the busy city of Tokyo. The view looked better at the day as you could see more in the distance but at the night the towers looked the best with the lights and colours of them. So, from this I had looked through my phone and choose the pictures as on this page it is all primary imagery. I had printed some images and pictures off to get a start on what I envisioned my page to look like to really display these Towers of Japan in the best way. I had previously experimented with these quite a few times before finalising my research page. Firstly, I had arranged all my pictures and elements to a desired look I wanted. I had used my mini album next to my drawing and I had added my textile sample piece at the top right. This sample piece is interactive as I tried representing the look of the coloured changing tower at night so in the video above it shows me moving the sample to show the different shades and colours. To finish this one side of the page I had added some prints ideas I had to finish off my page. For the next page I still wanted an element of interactive feature, so I had created a pocket from one of my pictures this is shown in the video above to slot my photos into as this page I wanted to create a collage effect with showing the different elements and designs of the towers. I had even stuck in some polaroid photos along the side of my page to show the memories and adventure from my trip. For the title I used some wooden letters as these stand out and finished off my page perfectly. I enjoyed making and experimenting with this page and I hope to use some elements and develop this further later in my project.  

[whoismiaaa]

Writing Initiative #3

next week i want to discuss the toys i made and present my 3d project.

materials: working with needle felt, possibly some more textiles, such as sewing or embroidery.

failures and successes: (notes after making the first needle felt doll)

i am still getting the hand of the toys, so i think i need more time with it for the craft to be better, so cleaner and more solid toys without many loose haris hanging out.

i want them to be more interactive. use cooler and calmer colours, instead of bright red especially.

also thinking about how to make more interactive elements on the toys. and maybe educational elements aswell.

considering incorporating more nature, possibly animals, alongside textures

Incorporating nature elements into plush toysto create a sensory and calming experience:

-Use soft, plush fabrics, smooth velvets for leaves, or ribbed textures for tree bark.

-Experiment with varied textures within the same plushie to provide a tactile experience, to explore different sensations.

-In the shapes of animals, plants, or natural objects, allowing children to connect with familiar elements from the outdoors.

-Explore geometric patterns inspired by nature, incorporating shapes like leaves, petals, or waves into the design.

-Add embroidered details of flowers, leaves, or vines onto the plushie's surface, bringing in intricate botanical elements.

-Choose a color palette inspired by nature, incorporating earthy tones like greens, browns, and blues.

-Use shades that mimic the colors of specific animals or plants, creating a visually appealing and nature-themed plushie.

-Design plushies with hidden pockets for small natural elements like pebbles or pinecones that children can discover during play.

-Include educational elements on the plushie, such as embroidered or printed information about the specific animal or plant it represents.

-Attach tags or labels with facts about the natural world, encouraging learning through play.

-Consider interchangeable accessories or attachments that reflect seasonal changes, such as removable flowers for spring or snowflakes for winter.

-Use eco-friendly and recycled materials for both the plush fabric and stuffing, promoting sustainability and a connection to the environment.

-Incorporate recycled fabric remnants or upcycled materials into the design for added texture and uniqueness.

-Design plushies with removable accessories like tiny backpacks or scarves made from natural fabrics.

-Include miniature representations of nature elements, such as tiny plush flowers or leaves, as part of the plushie's ensemble.

goal: create a multisensory and engaging experience that fosters a deeper connection between children and the natural world.

I fear going into the experimental assignment as i am unsure about what mediums i want to use so that it can relate to my topic, and i think i would need to somehow merge all of my projects. i currently have the 2d, which is about healing through nature. and this one is the 3d which is about healing through toys. and they feel still very distinct, maybe in aesthetic or that it tackles very different research topics. so i am worried about finding an experimental approach that will make sense with both pieces since i do hope for them to connect.

[chihirolovebot]

red velvet and oolong.

feat. tsumugi shirogane/reader

synopsis. your first date with tsumugi shirogane, the girl in your class you've been crushing on for months.

content. pure fluff, zero angst look at me go, gender neutral reader, pseudo-confessions, non killing game au, college au, first date, food/eating mention, cats, dubious genshin lore.

words. 2019

notes. for nex!! u absolute gem. i really hope u like this :*

commission me or leave a tip!

You’re going to be late.

The train to central street notoriously waits for nobody—you’re going to have to run to the station, at this point. You wanted to be gone seven and a half minutes ago, but you’re still here, in your room, panicking over which pair of shoes to wear.

The flats would be comfier, but the sneakers go better with your jeans…

Cursing, you fling both aside and drag out a safe alternative, a worn pair of combats, snatch up your coat and head for the door. As you hurry down the road to the station, you pull out your phone and check your missed notifications.

There—at the top—is one that makes your heart lurch. 

Shirogane <3

>> hello !!! just checking we’re still on for today (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

>> im getting there for around 1:30… that’s alright, isn’t it?

Quickly, you fire off a reply confirming both your appearance and the time. You almost can’t believe it—you’re actually going on a date with Shirogane. Today. Now, if whatever gods are watching allow it. The girl in your textiles design course you’ve been crushing on for the better part of a year, the one who takes a seat diligently at the back of class but is always the first to raise her hand when the topic interests her. The one who unabashedly uses the practical time to craft the most intricate cosplays you’ve ever seen, and should someone inquire about them, will engage them in conversations often topping half an hour. You sit on the other side of the class, watching the light sparkle off her glasses, the pretty flush on the apples of her cheeks, her curtain of ink-dark hair sway as she rambles about some manga you’ve never heard of. 

Once, you’d passed her as she was carefully applying a row of train-track stitches with white thread down the side of some sort of cream-coloured waistcoat, shaded with midnight blue and gold accents. You’d only questioned the method, watching her pale, polished fingers work so steadfastly, and you’d somehow gotten roped into help sew the other side for practice whilst she told you all about the character.

“So you see,” Shirogane babbled as she sewed, “because he doesn’t like to show his face in public so much, many people get the idea that he’s a little boring or even just some kind of figurehead. But, if you really look into the lore, you’ll know that he shouldn’t be underestimated—after all, it was him that managed to stabilise the Yashiro Commission and Kamisato Clan, and he couldn’t have done that without a certain degree of cunning, you know?”

You hadn’t believed in love at first sight until that day, really. 

The things you love about Shirogane are the things a majority of the student body seems to find strange or off-putting. Her exuberance, her passion, the way she can talk for hours about something you’ve never heard of without making it seem boring. Sometimes, when you feel lazy, you leave your own coursework untouched and occupy yourself twirling little braids in her long, shiny hair as she rambles to you. 

It’s good. It’s nice.

You were sort of content to keep it as a weirdly touchy friendship—Shirogane is passionate in everything, and it was almost impossible to discern whether her feelings towards you were platonic or not. But the other week, when you’d been sharing lunch under one of the apple blossom trees on the college grounds, she’d been delicately picking at a sandwich. She was doing that thing where she tore chunks off the bread and popped them in her mouth instead of taking bites. One swallow left her with a smear of sauce on the corner of her mouth, and without thinking you’d reached out to wipe it away. Your thumb made the faintest graze over her lower lip as you did, and you watched, frozen, as Shirogane’s whole face darkened with a spectacular blush. 

For once, she stopped talking. You missed the song of her voice immediately, but it seemed she did, indeed, have an off-switch. Your hand on her face.

You asked her out the next day. She agreed. And now here you are, trying to will yourself not to sweat as you hurry off your train into the central city. It’s not too busy, thankfully, and you manage to clamber off and out of the city station with around fifteen minutes to spare. You take a moment to readjust your clothes, press a hand to your cheek and nervously pop another mint before setting off in your intended direction. 

You’re nervous. Man, it’s been a while since you got nervous like this. Shirogane is just so… well, you haven’t wanted something to go right this badly for a while, to put it lightly. Maybe it’s just ���cause you’re in the same class, and a disaster of a date would make it extremely awkward.

Then again. Maybe it’s the delighted gleam in her dark eyes when she realises you’re listening to her. Maybe it’s the liquid lightning that zips directly to your brain when your fingers brush, hers cool and soft and smelling like the cinnamon-scented moisturiser she uses. Maybe it’s the little squeak she lets out when you greet her with a hug from behind, the way she buries her face in your neck in embarrassment. 

Maybe it’s just her.

She’s waiting at the fountain in the middle of the city square, fiddling with her phone. It’s a bulky thing, its sky-blue case studded with keyrings and stickers and gems, cutesy between her nails. They’re painted, you realise with a throb of affection. Candy-pink. You’ve seen her bite them in school a lot, so there isn’t much to paint, but you think it’s so sweet that she tried. As you approach, she spots you suddenly, flusters, and makes a show of clambering to her feet, tucking her hair behind her ear awkwardly.

She looks so pretty that it almost stops your heart in your chest. You’ve always thought she was cute, no matter how she protested or insisted on how plain-looking she was, but here in the soft noon light, she’s almost unreal. A soft blue sweater adorned with white clouds drapes itself over her shoulders, falls over a white skirt that hangs to her ankles. Her hair is pinned back from her face for once with white hairclips. The coordination floors you, although really it shouldn’t. What else would you expect from someone who puts as much love and care into their clothes as Shirogane?

“Hey,” you greet her breathlessly as you finally get close enough to be within earshot. She jumps.

“Hello!” she squeaks. “Hi! Um, you look lovely.”

“Ah, thanks.” You pick at your outfit consciously. Are your ears burning? “You, erm… you haven’t been waiting long, have you?”

Shirogane gives an airy laugh. “Well, no, not really. Um. To tell you the truth, I’ve been here since around twelve. I really didn’t want to be late. It’s fine!” she hastens to add, seeing your stricken expression. “I had time to wander around some bookstores, see?” She holds up a plastic bag bulging with volumes. “So it’s—it’s really no trouble.”

“If you’re sure…” You bite your lip. “So—are you hungry?”

Shirogane beams; it lights up her whole face. “Oh, starving!” 

Relief breaks over you as Shirogane loops her arm through yours, as the two of you begin to walk. Why did you think this would be any different from school? It’s Shirogane. She’s Shirogane there and Shirogane here. She still pushes her glasses up when she talks. She still smells like cinnamon and plastic. She still smiles at you all the same. 

When you arrive at your destination, you carefully watch as her eyes glaze over in amazement. She looks from the place, to you for confirmation, and then back again, head shaking wildly. “Oh,” she says, hushed, awed. “Oh, is this…”

You squeeze her arm. “I thought you might like it.”

She turns wide, dark eyes to you, glimmering with the delight of a thousand stars. “A cat cafe?!”

You laugh and lead her inside. She steps over the floorboards like it’s holy ground, eyes round as coins and reverent as she peers around, awestruck. The host checks your name and leads you to a booth by the window; the seats are cushy, candy-pink, and just to your left is a scratching pole occupied by a fat ginger kitten. 

Shirogane sinks into her chair, hands clasped. She can’t stop looking around. 

“Is it okay?” you dare to ask, hesitant to break the spell but starting to get a little unnerved by the silence. Abruptly, Shirogane turns her stunned gaze to you, face breaking out in a sunlit smile. 

She reaches across the varnished-wood table and clasps your hands. “It’s wonderful. It’s just wonderful. I’ve always wanted to come somewhere like this, but I plain forget to make bookings…” She looks at you, touched. “Thank you. It’s… lovely. It’s so lovely.”

You can feel your face beginning to burn; her fingers feel so hot against yours. You’re thankful as a waiter brings over complimentary glasses of water, gulping your share down quickly. The glasses are frosted with cute little cat faces picked out. 

The whole place is almost overwhelmingly cute, actually. Lace doilies act as placemats, and the menus are studded with stylistic kittens with eyes round as coins and pink button noses. Plastic vines and strawberry-shaped fairylights string the ceiling and dangle over you. And—

A soft black cat at your feet stretches and leaps nimbly, landing heavily in Shirogane’s lap. She looks like she’s about to cry.

The waiter laughs as she wanders back over to take your orders. “That’s Jiji,” she tells the dark-haired girl, who is stretching out a shaky hand to stroke over the cat’s soft back. It twitches, curls up against her stomach and appears to go to sleep. “She’s very friendly, but really sleepy, too. Can I get you guys something to drink to start?”

With one last fond look at Shirogane and Blair, you order a red velvet latte; waveringly, Shirogane orders oolong tea. When the waiter leaves again, Shirogane looks up at you slowly.

“This is,” she begins, hushed. “This is the best day ever.”

Something warm and full bubbles in your chest, like a flower giving bloom in spring. “It’s barely even started yet, Shirogane.”

“I don’t care,” she insists, legs kicking at the booth chair as though in example of her obstinacy. “Oh, I plain don’t care. Nothing could ruin it. I—I mean, this place, and Jiji, and you…” She trails off, going pink, but bravely doesn’t break eye contact. You feel like you’re melting. “It’s just perfect. It’s—it’s everything I ever wanted. I thought you’d be plain sick of me, by now…”

Her free hand—the one that isn’t occupied stroking Jiji—drums anxiously on the table. You don’t think, really, because if you think about it for too long you’ll get cold feet. You just move; your fingers thread themselves through hers, conscious of how much rougher they seem. Shirogane stares down at your interlocked hands, mouth agape, eyes perfect circles.

You clear your throat, face burning. “I don’t,” you start, then swallow. “I wouldn’t want to be here with anyone but you. I’m… God, I don’t think I could ever get sick of you, Shirogane.”

Her lip wobbles. “Oh,” she cheeps out, a little bit like a baby bird. “Oh, I… I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you either.”

And that—that feels like a confession, of sorts. Shirogane is blushing like it was one, and your face is certainly on fire, and your hand is still holding hers, after all. When the waiter comes back with your drinks, you see that the foam on yours has been powdered with a decorative cinnamon heart. Shirogane only goes redder when she sees it, quickly bringing her steaming tea to her mouth and taking a generous gulp.

You can’t help but wonder, in some far-flung part of your mind, if she’d taste like oolong if you kissed her. 

[laviethepooh]

kakigori | kazuha x reader

summary. you and kazuha share your kakigori with each other.

ft. kazuha x gn!reader

cw. indirect kiss >:))

wc. 1.3k

notes. yay school is finally over for me! i’m hoping that over the summer i can have korean-style shaved ice because i’ve been craving it for so long but because of covid so many of the stores were closedjskf. anyway, i hope you enjoy this fic and eat some kakigori :D

the sun was beating down on you hard. in fact, it was probably the hottest summer day that you were experiencing so far this year. even if you could feel kazuha creating a light breeze around you to get rid of the hot air, you still felt like you were going to melt under the bright sun. it was at times like this when you wished you had a cryo or hydro vision.

you were walking through inazuma city with your white-haired childhood friend, kazuha, because you created plans to have some hotpot later with thoma, ayaka, and ayato. however, you decided to come a little earlier to look around the city since you wanted to build up an appetite. you had stopped by ogura textiles and kimonos earlier and had ordered some new silks, but now you needed a quick snack. as you walked through the streets, you noticed a new stand that wasn’t there yesterday.

“kazu! look! let’s check out that stand over there.”

you grabbed his hand and dragged him over to the stand and read the sign that was at the top.

“kakigori!” you looked at kazuha excitedly.

kazuha hummed as he stood beside you. “i remember when we shared a bowl of kakigori so many years ago.”

indeed, it had been so long since you had kakigori, but you could already taste the sweet condensed milk, chewy mochi on top, and the cold ice wiping out any oncoming heat stroke.

ever since the vision hunt decree had been issued, it had been difficult to find someone who was willing to make the laborious kakigori and even more difficult to find someone who was willing to pay for it. before the decree, those with cryo visions would create new blocks of ice and shave them into flakes, but once their visions were taken away, they would have had to resort to getting real blocks of ice which could only be found in snezhnaya. once the sakoku decree was issued, all hopes of seeing the icy delicacy were gone.

however, as you watched the man create ice from thin air and start turning the crank of the machine, letting the snowy substance fall and collect in a bowl, you could feel your childhood memories of being with kazuha coming back to you.

kazuha was quick to notice the twinkle in your eyes which were glued to the machine. “a cold dessert on a day like this will leave us feeling renewed. allow me to treat you to some.”

“really?”

he nodded.

“we should go order then!”

the two of you reached the front of the line, and you ordered shirokuma while kazuha ordered ujikintoki. usually, the both of you would just order typical kakigori with sweet condensed milk and red bean, but today the both of you felt like trying something new. being a little bold never hurt anyone.

you watched, fascinated, as the man expertly used his vision to create a thick block of ice which was then put in the machine. he took the crank and started turning, and you watched the ice shavings layer on top of each other in the wooden bowl. once two bowls were filled, he started adding the toppings: the fruits and beans were already at the bottom of yours, so he only added milk and honey and more fruits on top while for kazuha he added green tea syrup, red bean paste, and sweet condensed milk.

as promised, kazuha paid for both of your orders and you thanked both the man and kazuha as you took your bowl to find somewhere to sit. you found an empty table for two with a parasol to provide shade, and you and kazuha sat across from each other.

you carefully scooped up some of the ice and the toppings and took a bite. it tasted even better than you remembered. the coolness of the ice drained the heat out of you and the fruit was sweet and refreshing.

“kazu, you should try mine,” you suggested.

you scooped up some more with his favorite fruit and held the spoon in front of his face. 

kazuha hesitated for a moment. he wasn’t as ignorant as many thought he was when it came to couple things. he knew that feeding someone with their own spoon was not done between just friends. the crew on the crux would always jokingly spoon-feed each other as if they were a married couple and beidou would even chime in saying that they were sharing an indirect kiss. even when they were just joking, kazuha never partook. it was embarrassing but also, he couldn’t imagine sharing a kiss, even an indirect one, with anyone else other than the person that he had liked since he was a child.

the heat disguised his reddened face as he leaned in and ate the kakigori. it was as good as he expected, but he wasn’t sure what was sweeter. the sugary kakigori or your expression that was looking at him, a mixture of innocent expectance as you leaned against the table to be closer to him.

he cleared his throat. “it was very good.”

your eyes lit up as if yoimiya’s fireworks were exploding in your irises. “see? getting this kakigori was such a good idea.”

he nodded. anything more he said would probably come out in a high-pitched voice out of slight nerves.

“but kazu,” you started as you put down your spoon, “can i try some of yours?”

the heat that was being eliminated by his kakigori was starting to rise up again. he knew that he wouldn’t be able to use your spoon because it could be awkward. he wasn’t even against the idea of you using his spoon either. so why was he so hesitant? kazuha always dropped everything he was doing in order to help you.

so he carefully scooped up the green ice and red beans. it was a pretty generous scoop that he held out to you. kazuha wasn’t sure how to describe your expression. although it looked like any expression of anticipation, kazuha, who had known you for so long, could tell that there was a hidden expression of excitement and something more that he couldn’t describe.

you ate the kakigori and your expression looked very satisfied.

“it’s sweet, but it’s a bit more subdued in a mature way. it reminds me of you, kazu,” you laughed.

sweet but mature. of course it wasn’t the first time someone had called him those words, but it felt much different when it was from you.

the two of you shared stories as you were eating, but noticed that it was probably soon time to go take a walk again before meeting at komore teahouse. after you put away the empty bowls and were about to leave, you noticed a couple feeding each other their kakigori.

“look kazu! that couple is sharing an indirect kiss, how cute!”

kazuha nearly choked. so you were completely aware the whole time?

“we should come by this stand again, the kakigori was so good and it gives me so much nostalgia.”

kazuha nodded, but he wasn’t even sure what he was nodding to. his mind was much too occupied with what you just said beforehand. so you knew that sharing the spoons were indirect kisses and you also knew that it was a thing with couples. but you had also shared it with him, a friend.

you could see the gears turning in kazuha’s head as he tried understand your words. you knew he was a bit dense at times, but you hoped that this was enough of a hint as to how you felt about him.

kazuha turned to you. he was quite terrible at hiding it when he was extremely happy since his eyes couldn’t lie. “let’s have kakigori again tomorrow and try something new.”

taglist. @plasmasimagination

[angelfoodcake222]

The Lesser of Two Evils [pt. 2/?]

HERE IT IS! I hope you enjoy this & please reblog. Thank you!

[Above] Gif/Art by Clownillustrations

TW(Trigger Warning): female puppet reader, talk of murder, metamorphic aftermath & descriptions, scopophobia(-philia), fictophilia, paraphilia, & xanthophilia(-phobia).

A/N(Author's Note): This one's just a drabble & longer than the last one, but I hope you enjoy it. I focused a bit on Home's involvement in you're shaping... & I wanted to gush over 30s/70s fashion for at least a paragraph. Read on if you'd like.

Light stabbed your revivified eyes as you strained to shield your hand over them, but your appendage & its limb fell flat over your lower belly. The sound of shutters closing gave you shaded comfort. For lack of better words, your vision was fuzzy at first. You regained consciousness, submerged neck down in a bathtub filled with lukewarm water with a fluffy towel embroidered with "W.D." in coiling font folded behind your head. It took you a few winks to clear your vision but once you did, you thought you were still dreaming of your transformation.

Upon looking down, you note your lilac body was cloaked in an orange, purple-trimmed tunic dress with slight matching details & white/amber dress heels. Not long after you awoke, Darling entered the room with a far bigger towel for your whole body. It seemed even fluffier than the one you had under your head. He sees that you're awake & grins.

"Good morning, Y/N!" He beams, dipping his finger into the water, most likely to check the temperature, while you start taking stock of your novel body: not numb but not overstimulated. Decent hues. Not too bad, if you had to say so. Your eyes float to Darling's face while a smile settled onto yours. He knows your looking at him, he likes you looking at him, he's just focused on tending to you (your recently reformed body).

Soon, he helps you out of the tub & dries you off due to a lag in mobility. Now that you're dried & (partially) standing, you get to see your brilliant orange hair being pulled mindfully into a high ponytail with the green strip of textile by your darling companion before he sets his hands on your shoulders. Your eyes looked as dreamy as his but you had magenta-hued eyeshadow instead of his reds/blues & a very faint line bordering your mouth's edge to possibly signify lips. You began toing-&-froing your head as slight glimmers of what you assumed were microscopic glitter showed nicely in the lit-up mirror's reflection of you. Wally's reflection leans to your right with a smile on his cat-like face.∆

"I hope you don't mind, my darling, but I did your makeup for you. I hope you like it." He shines well in the mirror's lights, leaving you starstruck. If he hadn't known to catch you sooner, you would have swooned straight into the sink's edge.

After wringing out any excess moisture, he begins leading you to a separate bedroom within Home. It's relatively quaint; a dresser of night clothes & intimates, a vanity mirror set that doubles as a writing desk complete with a well-padded swivel stool & pastel purple rotary phone, a twin canopy bed, in-wall bookshelves of blank sketch books/diaries, & a full-on walk-in closet full of on-theme wardrobe options.

"This room is yours!" Wally spoke gleefully, gesturing you into it with an encouraging wave. "It will evolve with you the longer you stay here! & look! Home even gave you books to work in!" His bright skin shifted into a giddy smile, the smooth voice giving a honeyed tone as you began exploring your new dwelling. As you did, Home creaked to gain Wally's attention. The filming was starting soon & he needed to finish his routines. Wally bids you a good day, turning to leave while Home gives a series of creaks that he reacts to happily while carrying on to greet the Viewer at the train/bus station.

While you wait, you root around the room curiously. You had always loved the Neighbors' style, the whole "70s Kidcore" fashion, & sought to throw something together due to your secondary-hued garbs not matching. Wally did just help you into a new form, new living arrangements, new everything, so maybe you could blend in a bit better. Easier said than done. Your fleece & yarn didn't go well with anything in the entirety of the primary-hued wardrobe, even the night clothes didn't fit your shades.

Defeated & dejected, you place everything back into its places respectfully, returned to your initial garbs & flopped onto the lush bed with the lusher beddings puffing up around you. You barely noticed the low rattling of the closet & dresser until Home tumbled Its floor to draw your awareness back to the root of your downed behavior. "Home, with all due respect, I was just in there. I can't wear any of-" your words catch in your throat. "-that."

You blink in shock, seeing a totally you-themed armoire that you excitedly dance into. Tea dresses, Whoopee-style denim bodysuits, peasant blouses, day dresses, bell bottoms, house dresses, frayed jeans, midi/maxi dresses, a kaleidoscope of tie-dyed options, tunic-type garbs, headbands, scarves, & jewelry (made of wood, stones, feathers, beads that look like eyes), fitted wide lapel blazers, flared pants, sweaters, cardigans, jumpers, numerous shoe choices from casual to formal, the whole 70s shebang.

You stood there, mouth wide open & stupefied at the expansive wardrobe Home had made especially & explicitly for you. What could you do but hug the door & its frame leading to your fashion fantasies? Home gives a seemingly happy creak, rattling Its floorboards in the direction of a wall-mounted vanity far bigger & with more makeup & hair items. Oh, yeah! This'll be fun~.

~~~~~

Wally slides behind Home's front door, bidding the viewers a good day while breathing a sigh of relief after the door clicks shut. Home cheerfully welcomes him & gets his attention, leading him up the stairs & into the doorway of [Y/N]'s room. He's confused yet trusting of the structure he's come to trust in his relatively short life. Once he reaches his destination, he was unsettled to find the room empty of his newest companion until the dual closet doors snapped open, giving you a much-obliged path for you to twirl out of.

Your high bun was held up by your bow-tied textile, orange-based peasant blouse, love beads, bracelets, a dark purple, full skirt complete with a light purple, cutesy poodle detail, frilled white socks, & the shoes you came into your new life with. You only noticed him when you stopped twirling for a second. He's just there, gazing at you.

"Home made me some new clothes." you chuckle shyly. "What do you think? Is it too much?" Your hand moves to dust off nonexistent filth from your skirt's front & sides as Wally stares on, only answering when Home gave a robust creak. The sound was most likely Its way of snapping Wally from his trance. "You look dynamite! It fits you so well!" His slightly raised vocals & bright smile are contagious, spurring you to look over your shoulder to the full-length mirror hanging within your view.

The rest of your day was spent being taught how to behave around others outside of Home's walls & Wally's gaze, should the need arise. For instance, say an episode calls for Wally to be away in the Neighborhood while you sit all alone in Home. You'd like to be out & about like any sane person/puppet. If you do leave, you'd have to change into something akin to Wally's apparel but feminine. Blouse, skirt, all that. You can keep the hair tie though. What to say, what not to say, both needed to not cause any unfavorable attention to you by anyone.

You listen intently, scribbling into one of your books you had labeled "Behavioral Know-how", as Wally speaks next to you at the kitchen table. Somehow, your pen hadn't run out of ink yet with all the writing you were doing. Wally pauses, giving a small, robotic chuckle as you lift your head with a furrowed brow. With a smooth movement, he boops your tongue's tip that had poked out in your bit of concentration.

"You're so cute like this~." Had his voice dipped? You hadn't noticed due to flustering into hour hands. Wally gives his odd laugh while you tried to recompose yourself. The sweet scene was seemingly untainted by the fact that, while the Viewers were distracted by a couple of skits that didn't feature him, Wally slithered off to handle some of those bullies from the night before.

He was still upset at the sight of you, frightened half to death, crumbled at Home's doorstep, nearly being punished for the heroic deed you had done to keep his dearest friends safe & unsullied. It made his stuffing feel like kindling & his fleece shift heatedly. Once he found the first few Home had described for his mental list, he made sure to keep out of the splatter distance when he blinked at them.

The lesson ends & Wally escorts you to your room with that warmly odd demeanor of his. You ask an extra question or two about the dos & don'ts of your new life, suppressing yawns as you did, while he patiently answered them. You were strangely eager to adapt to his life, but he couldn't be happier than right now. You were on his arm, sleepily talking of a life you wholeheartedly planned on living with him while content to be a side or background character, planning to have a building of your own to the side; something the Neighborhood doesn't have yet.

By the time the two of you reach your room, Home had somehow laid out night clothes for you. Two-piece men's set & a classy silk gown were your options. You vanish behind the privacy of your closet's doors while you tossed ideas around about the new building concept until Wally mentions the lack of blooms around the Neighborhood. You sprung from the closet, second wind shortly blasting through you, as you suggest a floral set up. "A flower shop!" you squeak excitedly. Wally laughs, amused by the sudden burst of energy, before agreeing to the idea.

You tuck yourself in, nuzzling into the warm bed as your companion strolls to your bedside with a soft smile adorning his face. "Sleep tight, [Y/N]. Tomorrow may not be your debut, but soon the time will come. Nighty night~." His vocals lull you to sleep as images of the flora-clad shop danced in your mind; brilliant blooms, radiant roses, beautiful Bergenias, & breathtaking bundles of bouquets all twirled in your dreams as sleep graced your novel form.

Not too far from the Neighborhood, somewhere in the vast studio, three men's bodies were hidden carefully so as to not be found. They lay on the grimy floor with whole halves & massive hunks 'bitten' from their bodies, taken slowly until each target passed due to blood loss or vital pieces of themselves vanishing, both sending them into shock & leaving them helpless against the beast that committed the most horrid act. Three down, eight to go...

There it is! I'll be working on pt.3/? soon! Leave your favorite blooms/herbs/plants in the comments & I'll try to fit them in somewhere.

Likes are nice, but reblogs are better!

[redorich]

For the canyon au, what would happen if one of the hermits got hurt during a scout? Like, if etho is out scouting, something happens, and he’s unable to message the hermits or get help. Would he be willing to be seen? Would any smpers besides Puffy help him?

Zedaph didn't mean to leave the canyon, honest! He was just looking for a sheep of his own for a completely ethical experiment involving pistons and a perfectly reasonable quantity of peanut butter, thank you very much. He wasn’t about to steal a sheep from someone else’s farm, and for some reason sheep don’t tend to spawn at bedrock level. So really, he had no choice!

Zedaph is rethinking a lot of his decisions. He’s also wondering if he left the jump-powered stove on. Then he remembers that it’s jump-powered, and as he is not currently jumping on it, it is most likely unpowered. Unfortunately, it seems as though Zedaph is going to be eating a lot of cold food for a while if he makes it out of this alive, because he’s not going to be jumping on anything with a broken leg.

Despite his punishment for trying to take a cross-section of something that he now knows is probably sentient (oops), he can’t help but want to go back, to learn more. What is the rate of growth of those red vines? Are they all from the same plant? Are they actually sentient, or is the crimson kudzu in possession of an automatic response to attempted harm? Did the vine know it was hitting him off a ledge which would break his leg, or did it just know “whack human away from vine”? Would the vines taste good in soup? Are they flammable? Could Zedaph theoretically knit a fashionable sweater out of them, and if so would the sweater be capable of independent movement?

He is torn from his musings of a wriggly evil sweater by another thrum of pain. He hisses. There’s... more blood than is advisable. Outside of his leg, that is. Inside his leg is likely less than the advisable amount of blood, and come to think of it, his head’s probably a bit empty as well, seeing as how he’s having so much trouble thinking straight-- well, straight for him. His jumps in logic are incomprehensible to most on a good day, but right now even he can’t follow his own thought process. What was he thinking about again?

Ah yes. The overwhelming pain from being yeeted off a ledge. Come to think of it, the ledge he fell off-- the one he’s sitting leaned against-- is shaped awfully unusually. It must be manmade. Whoever made this is not a good terraformer. Zedaph should bake Scar some cookies. Is Scar allergic to peanuts? Ow. Ow. Ow. Zedaph will need to borrow Impulse’s oven-- or he could set up his own oven with an armor stand that jumps for him?

“Hey there, who are you?” says a female voice. Zedaph looks up. He doesn’t have to look very far up.

Standing in front of him is a woman with a cool pirate-looking coat (red, of course; all self-respecting pirates wear red), with long fluffy hair like white wool and rainbow fringe! Oh, and she’s, like, half sheep or something. That’s cool too.

Wait. There’s something about sheep he’s forgetting... How could he have been so stupid?! He came to the surface in the first place in search of a sheep, and now he’s (kind of) found one!

The cool pirate lady says something, but Zedaph-- well, he does hear it, but it doesn’t process. Words are just mouth-sounds. He is in pain.

“Found a sheep,” he mumbles, “Come back to the canyon?”

“You’re hurt, man,” the sheep-pirate-lady says. She has pretty rainbow hair, and the white parts look like clouds.

She laughs. “Thanks.”

Clearly, this woman is a mind-reader! As well as a sheep. Really, two for the price of one. Zedaph isn’t quite sure what to do with a mind-reader, but his head will be much clearer and therefore able to dream up wacky hypotheses once he respawns--

He gasps, jerking forward and choking on his own breath when he remembers the cold truth. Xisuma won’t be able to respawn him, not for several days. Zedaph doesn’t want to spend that long in the void.

“Woah!” the woman exclaims, rushing to steady him. “You look pretty bad, dude. Let’s get you home or something. Where do you live?”

“Canyon,” Zedaph rasps. “I’m not supposed to tell you that, I don’t think. Can’t remember why.”

The nice woman goes very still. “Hey. My name’s Puffy. I’m gonna take you to the canyon. Do you think you can stand if I help you?”

“Puffy..?” Zedaph squints off into the middle distance, trying to remember something. “She’s the person who keeps coming back to that barrel, isn’t she?”

Puffy pulls Zedaph’s arm over her shoulder and gently pulls him up to his feet. “She is,” Puffy says softly.

“I hope she liked the enchanted diamond shears,” he mumbles.

“She did,” Puffy says softly. “She didn’t even know diamond shears were a thing.”

“I was going to make an emerald flint and steel,” Zedaph rambles, “but it turns out that items made of flint and steel aren’t conducive to being made of not-flint and not-steel."

"Who would have thought?" Puffy laughs, then trips over a vine. Zedaph makes a pained noise at the jostle to his leg, which is dragging a bit on the ground because Puffy is so much shorter than him. She notices this, and rethinks her strategy.

"At this rate, we'll never get back to the canyon," she gripes. "Climb on my back instead, I'll carry you."

Zedaph obliges, but warns, "Tango says I'm heavy.”

“I’m stronger than Tango, I’ll bet.”

The Hermit is actually a bit heavy, but this is a matter of pride now. And also, quite possibly a matter of urgency. The Hermit isn’t responding anymore. He’s still holding on, so he isn’t dead or completely unconscious; still, he’s not in a good state.

As soon as the elevator down to the bottom of the canyon comes into view, Puffy books it. Surely, in the canyon base, the Hermit will have healing potions? He (They? Multiple Hermits?) gave her a whole beacon, so obviously he/they are late-game enough to have plenty of potions.

Stepping into the elevator, Puffy presses the button, then puts her hand on the Hermit’s neck. It’s a bit of an awkward position, since his chin is hanging over her shoulder, but it makes her feel better to have a hand on his pulse. He makes a pitiful noise as the elevator descends.

“Easy there,” Puffy says, “you’re almost home.”

The moment the doors open, she ventures out into the village. The only safe place she knows is the barrel where she leaves her items for the Hermit(s), so she takes him there. Now that she’s looking, she spots shadows, eyes, movements, throughout the supposedly empty village. One such person comes out of the woodwork, sprinting.

“Zedaph!” exclaims a tall, musclebound man. His face is twisted in naked worry as he meets Puffy at the barrel, which she sets Zedaph down on.

The large man, who wears a black shirt with a creeper face on it (does that mean something, Puffy wonders?) scrutinizes the blond man on the barrel for a moment before springing into action, splashing potions and bits of lapis and-- holy shit, is that a Totem of Undying?! When the blond man, Zedaph, seems to come back to himself enough that he could reasonably eat a golden carrot with minimal choking hazard, the new man hands him one. Finally, he turns to Puffy.

“Thank you,” he says. The relief in his voice is tangible.

Puffy shifts awkwardly. “I was just doing the right thing. I noticed, uh, his bracelet.”

They both look to Zedaph’s wrist. It’s got a woven bracelet on it. The textile isn’t astounding, but the pattern on it is intricate. Puffy would know, she made it herself as a gift for the Hermit. As Puffy and the other Hermit look at each other, she realizes that he is also wearing something she made: a pair of fingerless gloves which are now stained with redstone dust.

He catches her staring. “We all have one-- oh, uh, my name’s Impulse, and this is Zedaph--”

“Impulse,” a new blond man hisses from behind the two. Puffy jumps. She didn’t hear him coming.

“Tango!” Impulse greets, suddenly nervous. Why a man as big as Impulse would be nervous when facing anyone, let alone a normal-looking guy like Tango, is beyond Puffy. Maybe Tango’s red eyes have some sort of significance?

“Impulse,” Tango repeats, looking around for anyone that isn’t a Hermit. “You’re not invisible.”

Impulse’s eyebrows draw together in a frown. “I had to see Zedaph.”

“Yeahhh,” Zedaph slurs.

“Besides, if we can trust any of the natives, it’s Puffy,” Impulse insists. He crosses his arms in what should be an intimidating display, but truthfully looks more like a pout.

“You know what Xisuma said,” Tango says. “I’m grateful to have Zedaph back, but...”

“Xisuma would agree with me,” Impulse says stubbornly.

Tango sighs explosively, full of nerves. “Alright, fine, can we at least get out of sight? Anyone could come wandering across the surface and spot us.”

“How many of you are there?” Puffy breathes. Everyone’s eyes snap to her.

“Twenty-four,” Zedaph says happily.

“Zedaph!” Tango admonishes.

Rolling his eyes, Impulse scoops Zedaph up off the barrel like he weighs nothing. He carries the dazed blond man down the path and into a cottage-style house. As Tango goes to follow, he catches Puffy’s eye.

“Sorry,” he says, “nothing personal. Just trying to avoid being explodificated, which means not being seen by the people who live on this server. You get it, yeah?”

He jogs off to catch up with Impulse, and Puffy hurriedly follows. Tango’s got a bracelet like Zedaph’s, but it’s one of the ones Puffy made out of different shades of red. She wonders if all the Hermits wear something she made.

The inside of the house is a bit cramped, but it’ll do. It’s got a bed, at least, so Zedaph’s got somewhere to keep his leg off the ground. This all feels surreal.

“So, uh...” Puffy says into the stuffy silence of the room. “How about that, uh, bedrock?”

Nobody has anything to say to that. Fuck.

Out of nowhere, yet another Hermit shows up. There’s a trapdoor in the wall that, now that she looks at it, Puffy realizes that Tango was hiding intentionally. That’s all gone to shit, though, because a man with white hair and a mask over his face peeks his head out from the hole in the wall.

“Hey guys, what--” The man takes a look around, spots Puffy, and freezes. “...On second thought, I’ll come back later.”

“Wait!” Impulse says to the man. “Get Xisuma, or at least tell him Puffy’s here if he can’t make the trip right now.”

“Karl thinks you’re Mothman,” Puffy blurts out to the white-haired man.

The man looks very self-satisfied for someone who’s only showing a quarter of his face. “Oh? Where does he live? For absolutely no reason, of course.”

“Etho...” Tango groans.

“Oh, alright, I’ll go get X.”

The man leaves. Oh boy, thinks Puffy, this is going to be interesting.

[florelia12]

We were robbed!

We could've gotten Helia singing to Flora!

^Guitarist Helia confirmed!

Slshdksks he probably writes songs for her and serenades her! Also I love specialists/winx friendships, so what if Helia and Musa are songwriting buddies…

Like i read this post about someone’s headcanon that for the two of them their respective s/o’s are their muses which is just so sweet! Flora/Helia theme song ‘crazy in love with you’ has to play at my future wedding or im not walking down the aisle (also another song with the same name is by beyonce and features in fifty shades, just saying 👀)

Also imagine Stella asking his help for designs and they turn his art into textiles prints (i’m a fashion design student so damn i get excited when I talk about Helia/Stella dynamics). Stella loves to make Flora her model so imagine the two creating collections all inspired by nature and flowers after her. Them casually throwing compliments at Flora while they are seriously working on designing and she’s just sitting there blushing like 🥰

Stella: What about pink?

Helia: No, Red brings out her eyes more.

Stella: Ah Right! And, I want that waist a little tight, you know so it’s hugs her figure a bit better.

Helia: I agree.

Flora: *standing on the model platform blushing furiously*

Like this design is one of my favourites by Sarah Hambly and I can totally see Flora wearing it:

[oneoftheprettynerds]

Belle Of The Ball: Dark! King! Steve Rogers x Reader

A/N: So this my first ever proper dark fic and I’m so nervous. I finished it but my mind thinks it’s garbage. so I’m gonna post this now when I’m feeling a random spurt of courage and am confident in my work. So here’s my masterpiece, cookies.

This is for Dark!MCU  Festive Fic swap hosted by @darkficsyouneveraskedfor  and @darkmcuficswap

My giftee is @hermesmaximoff Hope you enjoy it love!

Thanking @firefly-graphics for the dividers: both personalised and general.

There is also an amateur somewhat okay shitty poster I decided to make which is included at the end.  

WARNING: THIS IS A DARK FIC CONTAINING DUBIOUS CONSENT BORDERING NON-CON AND EXPLICIT SMUT. YOUR MEDIA CONSUMPTION IS YOUR RESPONSIBILITY. LOSS OF VIRGINITY, ABUSE OF AUTHORITY, BREEDING KINK ALSO PRESENT.

Summary: Invited to the Royal ball by the benevolent monarch, you could barely control your excitement to visit the Capital. While you were busy admiring his prosperous reign, King Steve was quite occupied getting enamoured by you. As you try to fulfil the King’s demands, secrets find their way out.

CHARACTERS + GENRE: DARK!STEVE ROGERS X READER, SUPERNATURAL STEVE ROGERS X READER (read to find out what), ROYAL AU, HALLOWEEN THEME (I tried for the request, hope you do like it)

King Steve Rogers invites the princes and the princesses of all Kingdoms, near and afar,

To celebrate his several years of reign.

He requests thy kind and noble presence

At the joyous regale

of his auspicious ball

On the thirty first of October,

after sundown, in His Majesty’s finest castle.

Challenging thy with the unique theme of

A Halloween Masquerade Ball,

The King expects exceptional indulgence from all.

 The Most Grandiose Halloween Celebration is being organised with the spookiest of events within.

Come here if you dare.

“We have been invited to a royal party! My day couldn’t have been better!” Your elder sister exclaimed, jumping quite unladylike in your chambers, as you went through the details of the venue. You chuckled at her antics, knowing rather well that she would be scolded if someone else was present. 

“Emma, Mother has to approve first. As Lady Ava always says, don’t count your chickens before they hatch.”

“As if mother would really decline an invite from the King, dear sister.” She rolled her eyes at you, not letting her enthusiasm die as you pondered over her words.

Your sister had a point though, the King summoning your presence was not to be taken lightly. The invitation came up handwritten in a scroll with the King’s wax seal atop it. It was placed elegantly beside a golden mask in a rectangular black box, that bore the Majesty’s sigil on the front.  

The theme of the ball wasn’t that peculiar if you reflected over it, the renowned monarch was also recognised for his distinct interest in eerie, unearthly beings. He was known for adventuring into haunted lands, mysterious manors and sinister soils, meeting up with people rumoured to be sorcerers and occultists.

Of course, the reason for his encounters was sometimes rumoured to be because of his familial distress, how he couldn’t find a mate to procreate with and conceive his own heir no matter what. Three females, who were pregnant with a progeny of his blood, none his wife though, had died during the first two or tercet months, reason unspecified why.  

Coming to You, you and your sister weren’t actual princesses, rather the daughters of one of the esteemed Ministers in the King’s cabinet. The benevolent King, however referred to the daughters of the town, more exactly, the Kingdom, as noblewomen. He held high reverence for the females and was the sole creditor to the improved condition of the women in this era. No matter how troubled his own life was, the King was the most merciful royal to be crowned to date, his people prospering under him.

Your sister nodded eagerly to your mother, drinking in her words like the fine tea you all had in the afternoons, while you just smiled at her advice.

 When you both met your mother for dinner, you were surprised to find her already informed about the invitation. Her conformity to the celebration astonished you even more, but Emma’s zeal was starting to rub off on you too by the end of the meal. 

Your mother continued, “Your father mentioned The Majesty is looking for a wife, quite possibly. He has been insistent in trying to get a successor the correct way this time, by courting the lady who piques his interest. Even though this might be a rumour, or some gossip spun by the ladies of the Cabinet, you both should try your best to be graceful and presentable. Among the hundreds of guests, he’d be having over, on the off-chance, if Gods allow, that either of you manages to entice him, it will only promise you the most pleasant of all forthcomings. It would also do me and your father some good, if you managed to find some other suitable bachelor, from a nice background to engage with.”

Your sister had always been one with the more overactive imagination out of you two, while you had been the more serene and poised one. When she’d be out playing with the children in your town, you’d be talking to the younger toddlers, drawing with chalks on the side. For every kid she splashed with water in the nearby sapphire river, you made tots flower crowns. These were the values you both grew up with, and these will be the values you’d die with.

After days of shopping velvet fabrics and silk textiles, and bothering your seamster to make sophisticated and stylish dresses, you both neared your day of departure. After some instructions to you both to represent your father and town well, your mother bid you adieu. It was nerve wracking to not have your mother by your side, for an event as big as this was, but since you both had passed more than twenty name days, you were expected to be proper, independent ladies. 

With a heavy heart and some self, positive affirmations, you and your sister embarked on the voyage, which was filled with her chitchat.

You only hoped that the gala was as exciting as your family made it out to be. That it was just a King trying to celebrate his sovereign with some western festival integrated together. That the event would not be as unnerving and creepy as the last line of his invitation made it out to be. 

For some unknown cause, it did not sit well with you. Your apprehensive intuition made you wary of the invitation for some reason, but you let your sibling’s zest take you over. What benefit would fretting get you?

The ball was far more pompous than anything you’d have imagined in your little head. All the ideas that Emma had come up with during your journey, to anticipate the extent of extravagance for the ball, were all exceeded with tenfold finesse. You had travelled to faraway, distant lands with your parents, but the King’s mansion, with all the festivity happening, was truly a sight to behold.

Entering The Capital had been the highlight of your excursion, you were sure earlier, but well you were proved wrong. Your father greeted you both when you had arrived, eager to see his angels after almost six moons, and had ensured you both got the best of the accommodations in the well-built, enormous fort. He introduced you to several of his comrades as well as their brooding, young lads and then, left you both to rest for the main event next eve. With two maids at your every beck and call, courtesy of your father, your time went smoothly and now you found yourself at the said Halloween themed celebration, staring around in awe of every little detail that had been so meticulously handled to make the event as dazzling as it was.

The servants were dressed rather ridiculously as cats, wearing some bizarre structure resembling cat ears, horribly short black dresses barely past their thighs and some whiskers draw using either coal or makeup, you weren’t sure. It was a poor attempt to make them appear feline. However, the food was as immaculate as everything else, entirely themed like only blood red wine, candied apples, chicken pumpkins, cheesecake brain, mummy muffins, some appetizer with bell peppers as jack-o-lanterns; these were the few that met your sights.

The hall was so grand, almost the size of three jousting arenas and playing fields combined with pillars having detailed architecture supporting the place. The walls were covered in scarlet, golden and black velvet drapes, the royal colours, and beautiful masquerade masks were pinned atop them, along the walls. Almost hundred round, white clothed tables filled the ballroom, with gold plated candlesticks and utensils upon them. The entire place had entertainers progressing around, the essence of it being magicians, clowns, contortionists, palm and tarot card readers. 

In the centre of the hall, was an empty space, reserved for the soon to be ensuing dancing. An orchestra on the side had beautiful instruments, playing soft melodies for now, reserving the upscale beats for later.

You had only read a few books on Halloween to be prepared but nothing could have geared you up for this. Your small-town self was gaping at everything with a childlike wonder while somehow your sister was quite composed and calm, somehow your roles had been reversed. 

Emma was wearing a blue gown, having several layers of nets and cloth, each a different shade of azure. She tried to dress as the mythical creature called mermaid, with crystal heels and a beaded neckline. Her masquerade mask had scales like fish, made using shining sequins. She looked so gorgeous, truly managing to look captivating.

You on the other hand were dressed like an angel, which you were against, finding it too mainstream and typical and wanted to dress like an enchantress with violet and jade colours, which your mother immediately negated. On demand of your sister, she let you wear a fluffy white ball gown, and had you made wings with dove feathers, an apparatus which was astonishingly light to wear. Using her art and craft skills, Emma made you a headband with two wires attached to a metal ring, shaped like an angel’s halo. The loop at top made of some special metal that glowed golden in the dark, making it look like a real, floating halo. Your mask had a fur lining on it, and silver sparkles were sprinkled all over you, with pretty makeup on your face, courtesy of your sibling.

The change in music brought you out of your reverie, as trumpets and harps began to hum, signifying the arrival of the King on the grand staircase. He had a crimson red velvet cape descending his broad shoulders, his tuxedo underneath could hide neither his long legs nor his bulging, protruding biceps. His black, shining shoes cost more than your entire apparel, you were certain. 

As your gaze ascended his masculine form, you were mesmerised furthermore with his high cheekbones, full lips tainted cherry pink, a Grecian slanting nose, sleek eyebrows, luscious blonde hair, a thick beard and the best of all yet, cerulean blue eyes, the prettiest you’d ever seen in the entirety of your small life. The ladies beside you, Emma included, had the same reaction whether they had witnessed his Highness before or not. Every female’s gaze seemed to flicker between his azure eyes and the Golden crown resting atop his blonde locks, flooded with rubies and emeralds and gemstones you weren’t sure your books had.

For a moment you felt his eyes land on you, which surprised you even more so, that you questioned yourself about it, but his cheeky grin and wink confirmed it, make you shiver involuntarily as heat spread through your face while a titillating stir ran through you, a first for you. His impeccably white teeth were clearly visible now, showing two elongated canines, which finally gave you a sense of his attire, paired with his blush lips, A Vampire.

He spoke a few words, eyes unsteadily wavering, observing different members of the gathering. He let the dances commence, partnering with his most suitable match at the festivity, the daughter of the wealthiest lord. After the first song was over, other couples joined alongside him while you stood at the side, observing everything. Only mere moments ago had your sister been courted by a young man, the two of them shooting each other coy glances since they had entered. 

A tap on your shoulder had you puzzled, you turned around focus landing on warm, brown eyes. You recalled him to be Lord Stark’s son, Peter, having met him yesterday at dawn. His familiar brown eyes gave you sense of comfort, which you liked, not being alongside Emma now.

“Shall we?” He asked, his cheeks ruby like yours were, as he extended the palm of his hand towards you. You giggled, smiling like a little babe who got extra cookies for dessert, and accepted his hand. Sauntering to the dancing arena, you only prayed to The Heavens above that Lady Ava taught you enough to embarrass neither yourself nor your guild.

Tracing his steps and following his lead, you did manage to dance without falling, which was a surprise seeing how spread out your wings were. You and him made easy conversation, about your hometowns and interests.  You saw your Father proudly looking at you and Emma, dancing with lads, you guessed, he approved of.

As the song ended and the orchestra played a transitioning tune between the melodies, a cough sounded beside you as you and Peter stopped. Your eyes widened as you nervously curtsied beside Peter, A ‘Your Majesty” falling from both your lips.

“If it’s not too much trouble, may I share a dance with the most stunning dame here?” 

Peter politely stepped back, letting go of your waist, as The King’s wide stature more than filled his place. Your heart was beating rather loudly, blood pumping to your ears as you tried to make sense of what was happening. In your peripheral vision you could see the prying eyes of others looking at you both, ready to criticize you for one wrong move. Your father watched intently, a slight warning in his eyes to not mess this opportunity up while your sister comfortingly smiled at you. You tried to even your breaths and make sense of what he was saying, to not just stand and gape like a fool in court.

As the harmony played out, he swayed you around, lifting you up and twirling you around. Compliments spewed out from his lips, making you crimson like freshly ripened apples. You couldn’t keep up with your expression of gratitude through your words as he admired your eyes, your elegance and your ensemble which just couldn’t make him shift his eyes from you. 

After two songs had played out, he left as suddenly as he had come, with a promise to meet you later. You watched him dance with other maidens, who approached him when you were dancing together, entertaining every approaching lady like an excellent host.

You made your way to the side, hoping to get some liquor, or at least some fluid in your veins and not faint right there this moment. Emma came up beside you while you were having wine, and rubbed your back in a parental way. Her eyes communicated her understanding of how overwhelmed you felt at the instant. Her date and Peter soon came and kept you both company for the rest of the night. As duos danced and people got intoxicated, you had to call it a night on behalf of your sister, her incessant giggling make you worried for her inebriated self. 

You slipped her out before your father caught her and gave her a stern talking to and tucked her in her bed keeping a glass of water and some fresh fruits for her on the bedside wooden bench. You concluded retiring for the night yourself but only after assuring your father of your whereabouts and well beings. Before returning to the hall, you took off your wings and the halo, also opting to leave the mask behind as the fur tickled your skin. Your makeup hadn’t ruined in the heat of the hall, it was a miracle. You made your way to the Hall, hoping to find your father, assumingly drunk with all his entourage.

Two hallways before the decorated ballroom were you pinned to the wall, one hand of your attacker covering your parted lips while the other held your face delicately, with a lover’s touch. A split second was all it took for you to be immobilised by this man and another by your wavering form to recognise the cobalt blue eyes and blonde curls. When The King was certain you wouldn’t scream, his hand left your mouth slid upwards, mirroring his other hand, with thumbs in front of your ears and palms resting on your cheeks.

“Your Majesty?” You mumbled back, your voice somehow even lower, afraid for yourself and even more so terrified to offend him.

“Say, would you come for a while to my chambers, the view of the creek from my balcony is splendid.”

His choice of words gave you an option, but his eyes, almost hypnotically told you there was only one correct answer.

“You are the one, I can feel it.” He whispered lowly but your heightened senses gladly picked it up.

You meekly nodded, your inner self surprised at your body moving of its accord alongside him, as your mind started voiding of thoughts like reporting to your father, checking up on Emma. You felt like you were trapped in someone else’s form and fought with an invisible force to take over the reins of your own body.

You did not fail to notice the lack of guards outside the King’s chamber and how every entrance managed to open itself. The King wasn’t lying about the picturesque scene though, as you stood in the balcony, hair getting ruffled by the strong breeze that seemingly came from nowhere.

Your body stiffened as King Steve came uncharacteristically close to you and slid his hands around your middle, his nose nestled in your locks, inhaling deeply.

His lips descended your neck, laying feathery kisses on his path as you stood there, unable to even move your hands or turn around. This out of body sensation was broken when you felt intense pain on piercing of your skin where your head met your torso. You suddenly gained all wits and enough strength to flail your limbs around but all your might wasn’t enough to even stir the man from his task. Your throat couldn’t gather enough energy to scream, though you doubted anyone would come. You started getting light headed and only then did he stop, carrying you in his arms to his widespread four poster bed, mattress as soft as sponge and sheets as silky as butter. Too weak to fight him off, you harvested all your energy in staying conscious as your gaze danced around, trying to make sense of every object present but not awake enough to notice too many details. The wine you drank did not make it any better.

As you laid on the stranger’s bed, you felt his body sit beside you, holding your neck; leaning down, his lips meeting yours for the first time. You did not reciprocate, neither did you have the strength nor the will, while his tongue slipped inside your mouth, roaming around like a traveller in foreign land.

As the kiss drew on, you felt some energy sidle inside you, enough for your mind to function again but not ample enough to fight off the brawny thief who robbed you of your first kiss. King Steve broke off the kiss and connected your foreheads together, his indigo eyes turning black in want, leaving you a frightening and gasping mess.

He backed away, sitting more straighter now as his hand drew back from around your neck and slid along your stomach, nearing the most intimate part of your body, even though there were still layers of cloth present. His hands did not stop there, however, and made their way downwards only stopping at the hem of your gown and slipping inside.

You shrieked out suddenly, becoming aware of his intentions quite late and grasped his wrist that rested now on your knee. 

“Your Majesty, I……I can’t-”

“Do you wish to refuse your King?”

You looked down, caught in the dilemma of wanting your safety and offending him once again. Your virtue had to be preserved till marriage, your mother had taught you, but on the other hand, the King’s words were the law.

“Answer Me.” The King’s cold voice broke through your thoughts, not a shout but still scarier than a yell.“

Your Majesty, I’ve never engaged in s-” You started tearing up, lower lip wobbling and body shaking at the thought of the future. You did not see this ending beneficial in any scenario. If you lost your virtue, you would never get wed but if you refused the King and he felt insulted, your family and your connections would be in the ruins, he held that much power over you.

Cradling your face with his other hand, he began again, “You think I’m not already aware, pretty one?” The man who was reprimanding you only few moments ago upon not answering him, had a smile on his face this time: not assuring or comforting, but malicious and sinister to its very core. “I could smell your untainted scent from my room, before even descending the stairs.”

“Your e-eyes..” You gaped again as colours morphed in his eyes, red now swirling around in the pools of darkness, his words lost on you as you felt your fear rising due to the inhumane action.

“For an intellectual, bibliophilic girl, you sure are oblivious, sweetheart.” He scoffed, looking unimpressed at you, “Come on, prove to me you aren’t heedless like the rest, draw the conclusion." His eyes held yours, again altering into hues of different colours, seemingly mocking you now. 

You don’t know how the thought jumped into your head, maybe because the two holes on your neck stung suddenly or because the automatically opening doors entered your mind, the contemplation that his fangs appeared so realistic and authentic the more you stared at them paired with the blood on his collar, not just the fresh red stain of your plasma but also the burgundy stain present there, giving his lips the cherry red shade you admired hours ago on his arrival at the event.

“This is not a co-costume, no-” You inhaled a quick breath, “you are a vampire.” Your face paled in realisation while he smirked proudly, tapping your knee in a weird, twisted form of appreciation.

“Tremendous, my dear. But only half, you see. My mother was one, yes, but my father, he gave me an even better ability, he was an Incubus.” You shuddered as the words sunk in, your only worry being staying alive now, when your life was in the hands of this sex demon, having the greatest of powers and strength. Your mind did not spend any time mulling over the existence of supernatural beings, only dwelling on possible escapes now.

“That is why even your untouched body couldn’t help but react to my form and it is also the very reason, that I can read what goes on in your mind, all your memories, your hobbies, every book you’ve read, your precious sister, Emma isn’t it? So please, do not even think about fleeing if you don’t want your family to suffer.”

The threat loomed in the air, nasty sobs wracking your body as his thumb came to wipe the tears off. His hands started undoing the lace on the front of your bodice as you sniffled. Managing to quieten down just a bit, you begged, “Please don’t do this, I’ll have nowhere to go if my family found about me partaking in this unholy deed before marriage.” You had little hope about him seeing reason but there was optimism nonetheless. 

“Darling, do not fuss that I’ll leave you unhinged and deserted after finding pleasure in your body, you are to be mine now. Essentially, you already are.” His lips claimed yours again as the front of your dress slackened, bundling around your waist.

You pulled back, surprised at his promise, “You mean that?” He nodded, coming to kiss you again. You turned so that his lips met your neck, tongue licking the salt residue of tears there. “In what sense?”

“In every sense you could think of and more. I’ll give you everything, make you my queen, would you like that?” He mumbled in your neck, tongue now soothing the two punctured cavities residing there.

You could feel yourself crossing your legs involuntarily, trying to caress the abrupt yearning in your intimate part, your underclothes dousing with wetness somehow. Steve smirked in your neck, sitting upright and playing his trump card.

“I’ll marry you and we’ll rule together with the plenty of successors you’ll give me. Won’t that make your parents proud? Isn’t that what your parents taught you? Catch the King’s eye?” You meekly nodded, his charisma of an Incubus winning you over. “I’ll make your father The King’s Hand and send your mother the finest of jewels and gems, satins and silks.” He looked over at your submissive form, looking at him with the innocence of a toddler, swayed by his promises.

“I’ll let your sister have a grand wedding with the man she dears. All you have to do is surrender yourself to me and be my Queen, rule alongside me. So I ask, will you?” You cut him off, your lips pressing against his as you tried to mimic his earlier movements. He held your waist, surprised but pleasantly so, crushing the layers of the rolled top half of your dress underneath his hands. You had very little idea about what bedding someone meant but you had this primal urge to not have any skin of yours covered or untouched by him.

Steve shed his cape and threw every cloth on his torso away, almost as eager as you to get skin to skin contact. Your hands tangled in his hair as he lifted you up and sat you in his broad lap, not before sliding your dress all the way down. As he broke the kiss and took in your body, parts of you hidden under the smallclothes, he let out a growl that frightened yet excited you with another shiver down your spine. 

He made quick work of his bottoms, his cock standing and reaching his muscled chest almost and you gaped. Your sister, Emma had informed you of men’s parts being far much smaller than what you had just witnessed. His member stood erect and proud, glistening as he pumped it with his fist. His eyes drank in your surprise and trepidation, getting amused and turned on even more. 

You still laid stretched across the bed, legs straight ahead of you while your torso rested on your elbows, eyes wary of his every next movement.  He eyed your scantily clad body, gaze filled with lust and nothing more and climbed between your legs, one hand coming down on your waist while the other grabbed the back of your head and pulled you into a possessive kiss, robbing you of your breath. Your mind was slowly registering the reality of it all, this was going to happen no matter what. You were going to sin by engaging in fornication. But is it really wrong if your benevolent king demands that of you?

His hand sliding from your face to your bosom distracted you from your chain of thoughts. He slid the cups of your garment revealing your nipples and took one in his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while his other pinched the abandoned one. You didn’t know if you should be more surprised at his actions or the rush of the feelings that ran through you.

He slowly released your nipple and trailed soft kisses down your stomach to your most intimate part yet, kissing it through the cloth there. His delicate touch was abruptly contrasted with him grabbing the fabric, tearing it into two and revealing you bare. 

You closed your legs out of instinct but his heavily muscled hand took them apart in a single push. He eyed you with a warning, to not obstruct him anyhow anymore.

“Let me taste that sweet nectar of yours, sweetheart. I really want to find out if it is as addictive as my senses picked it up, as sweet as the aura that surrounds you.”

And with that he dove into your pussy, his tongue roaming your wet cavern. Neither did you understand what he spoke of nor had you sister told you about the activity happening right now. But all you could do was focus on the astonishingly pleasant shivers running through you as you had an out of the body, more accurately an out of the world experience. You had no sense of the time that passed and how long you laid there clutching the silk sheets letting out mewls. But out of nowhere, something in you snapped and all your energy left you. 

As your blurry vision cleared and your eyes found his face, he licked his still glistening lips, his beard moist and wet but erotically so. He dove right into kiss again and you tasted your own sweet nectar for the first time ever. His hand roamed your body, grabbing your curves and caressing your soft flesh. 

One of his hands made its way down furthermore and spread your fluids along your folds, and then lined up himself along your hole. With a sudden push, you felt yourself being full like never before, and a sudden pain hit you as your face visibly flinched. Steve swallowed your grunts of pain with his kisses and started rubbing your bud above your linked bodies. 

The shudder that ran through you once again made you incapable of thinking, the ache slowly subsiding behind the pleasure you felt. When your moans filled the air, Steve kissed your collarbones and sucked leaving bruises there, and started thrusting again. As his movements became faster and consistent, and his callused hands rubbed you and pinched your intimate flesh, you ascended to another world. Each action of his introduced you to a new star in the wide galaxy. The same unknown descended upon you again as something snapped in your abdomen and you experienced pure bliss. 

“Going to make you the mother of my children, you will carry my seed and bring the Kingdom several heirs. This time I’ll succeed, you will be mine, my Queen in every sense.” His words made you clench around him and that was all it took for him to achieve ecstasy as well.

Your head lolled and your eyes met his sweating frame lying across the silk sheets as a sinister grin adorned his face again, “I need to fuck a successor into you tonight, you ready?”