#they're more ruined but the core is the same

[old-fandom]

I really love the idea that Stan was a ride or die defender for Ford throughout his entire childhood. And it wouldn't matter who you were, where they were, or if Ford was even in the room. You don't get to talk bad about his brother ever. HOWEVER, Stan would never defend himself with the same ferocity. He let people talk bad about him, barely defending himself with anger against bullies, teachers, adults, or even his pa. If anything, they'd get some sass or a shrug with an "I dont care" attitude.

And speaking of his pa, I do believe that Stan stood up for Ford many many times to their Pa even if Ford would have rather him not. Especially if we go down the same line that Pa was physically abusive, then Ford (or Ma) would want Stan to defy him, but he's headstrong and, at his core, loves his family (even his Pa). (I adore Family-Centric Teen Stan who did a lot for his family like help with bills via the odd job or make special occasions better by being thoughtful or spending a lot of time helping his parents or extended family with stuff.)

I'm not saying that Teen Ford wouldn't also defend Stan, but I don't think he ever went as far as Stan would because he was a lot more cautious and sensitive as a boy than he is as a fully matured man. He was still a scared teen just like Ford.

Anyway, sea grunkle era where the tables are finally reversed. They decide to make port back at Glass Shard Beach, NJ because they've gone this far, why not stop by for a trip. Stan fails to let Ford know he's actually banned here but its been over 40 years since it happened and he's legally dead so he doesnt see the harm.

Well they go to a local bar while docked and who do they run across but a few bullies from high school. None of them knew of Stan's death so they dont find it odd that a dead man is drinking with his twin brother at the bar.

At first, its actually chill. Everyone is older now and calmer, old grudges gone. It's almost pleasant. Stan goes to the bathroom after spending time with them for an hour regaling them with stories out on the water and some past accomplishments. And that's when old habits pop up and they start bad-mouthing Stan for being a nothing loser. Stan is washing up when he hears all this commotion outside, a lot of yelling. He comes running out thinking something is wrong and maybe someone is messing with Ford only to see Ford putting these people in their place about him?

Ford is going on a rampage defending Stan; how he's the greatest brother to ever grace this planet, how he's sacrificed so much for his family, how he's smarter than any of them combined, how they're all lucky to even be allowed near him. Stan has to basically drag Ford away and out the bar to get him to stop.

Back on the boat, Stan is trying to make light of the situation. Telling Ford he didnt have to lie to defend his honor like that or that a couple jokes at his expense wasn't worth all these dramatics. And Ford is trying to hammer it into Stan's head that he did lie, that the night was already ruined the moment they talked bad about Stan, that he should have defended him more growing up.

Then Ford hits him with a "Would you have let them talk bad about me like that?" And Stan instantly answers "Never." And Ford brings it all around like "Then why would you ever believe I would?" And the walls start crumbling down. It's been a long time since someone genuinely defended him like that. The kids, Soos, maybe even Wendy, they were all blinded by their youth and limited knowledge of who he is, but Ford? Ford knows so much about him, his mistakes, his choices, and he still chose to defend him.

Idk I just need Ford to be feral about defending Stan in their old age.

[maegalkarven]

No but I'm obsessed with the situationship where Durge and Karlach are friends, Durge and Gortash are lovers and Gortash and Karlach can't stand each other.

Also,depending on Durge, the Durgetash reveal can be messy af with both Durge and Karlach reacting violently, Karlach at the fact what her friend is the architect of that mess and Gortash's lover and Durge at her and the team's reaction.

Bonus point if Durge is loyal to Gortash to a fault bc they went against their Father's direct wishes bc of the affection towards that man, and everyone having an awful time dealing with it.

[kalosian-woods]

bro i wish there was at least a segment of greninja chilling with the cores or goodra like youre telling me they were NEVER shown onscreen again??? not even a cameo???

also some crack

kalos defender trio on their way to report back to homebase(the wetlands) after doing the most random stunts in existence because somebody felt ash-like silly today (goodra is so joining in when opportunity strikes):

-🦋

What can I say, it's Pokeani ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Again, it feels like XY had so much focus on the Crisis and maybe immediate action afterwards, but no so much for the actual aftermaths (which is why we only get Serena touching down in Hoenn, Clem being in Prism Tower but not so much battling others?? and basically good luck to everyone else). I guess it's worse with Goodra because we never see that Pokemon again, even though bro is an Ash mon and a recent one at that. The fact that they don't show us the Cores ever again? Sad, but I get not wanting to bring up Legendaries or past events again after all the controversy that exploded after XY's last arcs. But Goodra?? What did my favourite slimy mon do? 🥺

No, but imagine Goodra knowing of it because they listen to Keanan's radio and hears about all the wacky stuff they do on the news (they just say that 'they know' because it sounds mysterious and fun to say to the trio lol). Goodra trys to act worried whenever hearing about their Ash-silly moments but totally joins in when the opportunity arises. Say hello to Ice Beam slides and refracting Dragon Pulses with crazy angles everyone, this defender gang isn't necessarily good at taking care of each other but they're learning pretty fast how to have a good time, and maybe that's all that they need. Some fun times and each other to enjoy it with :P

[tboyquackity]

can i be honest and say tht codependent is another term tht fanon needs put on a shelf

[weeeyotch]

eager to please ღ r.r.

robert reynolds x f!reader

pt.2

synposis: aside from a couple sexual interactions, bob has never really learned how to eat someone out. but he's eager to learn for you.

warnings: smut (18+ MDNI), oral (fem receiving), messy pussy eating, sub/dom dynamics, praise kink, dacryphilia

word count: 1.7k

a/n: bob my beloved

For being the strongest man on Earth, he looks downright nervous.

He can take the force of a thousand bullets without a single scratch and fly at the speed of sound. Shit, he even brought Manhattan to its knees in a matter of minutes.

But here, in front of you? With his large, calloused hands gently resting on your parted thighs like they're sacred?

He's trembling.

"I just. . ." Bob swallowed, a loose curl falling onto his flushed forehead, slick with sweat and nerves. "I watched some videos online and—and I just want to do this right."

You ran a soothing hand through his hair. "You will, baby. I'll teach you how. Just listen to me."

He pouts and nods furiously. It makes your heart ache a little bit. This man could fly you to the next galaxy and pluck the stars out of the sky for you, and he would still believe that he isn't good enough.

Lying half-naked on the bed with your thighs spread comfortably around his warm body, you lean back on your elbows. Bob is still dressed in his cozy forest-green crewneck sweater and cream-colored corduroy pants. You feel rather vulnerable being more exposed than him, but the thought of soaking his clothes with your juices and leaving your mark made you absolutely drip.

There is no doubting he could see how wet your pussy is. He seems too anxious to look directly at it, still wanting to play the perfect gentleman. Instead, he opts to take quick glances and then dart his eyes away before you can catch him staring.

You reach down and intertwine your fingers with his, trying to ground him. He offers you a shy, crooked smile that makes your heart leap. Every instinct in your body is screaming at you to absolutely ruin this man; to make him cry, to make him scream, to turn him into your pliant little play-thing.

But that was for another time.

Tonight, you were teaching him how to worship you like a devoted acolyte at the altar.

"Okay," you murmur, "start with some kisses."

Bob leans down, practically folding himself over you. One of his massive hands snakes around your outer thigh, anchoring him in place as he turns his head inwards. He begins by nuzzling his nose against your inner thigh, breathing in the intoxicating scent of your soft skin. Then, he places a single, hesitant kiss.

And another. And another. And another, until he's trailing soft and reverent kisses all the way up to your core.

Just when he's hovering where you need him the most, mere centimeters away from your dripping cunt, he shifts to the other thigh to continue the exact same ritual. The way he's taking his time, so gentle and focused on doting on you, makes your head spin.

With each kiss, he starts to gain more courage. He brushes higher and higher until—

A sharp gasp escapes you as he finally kisses your center. There was no tongue yet. It was just sweet and tentative, like he was afraid to break you.

"That's good," you breathe. "Keep going. Don't be afraid to get a little messy, baby."

Bob's eyes flick up to you, tears already threatening to spill out while silently begging for permission. You nod.

That's all he needs.

He shifts in closer, parting your puffy lips with two thick fingers. Then, in a sudden burst of courage, he leans in and drags his tongue through you in one long, slow, mind-numbing stroke.

"Ohh—fuck."

He dives back in, repeating the motion. His head moves with growing enthusiasm, curls splaying against your tummy as he buries himself deeper within your thighs. It's sloppy. Unpracticed. But fuck, it feels so unbelievably good.

The way he groans against you is almost animalistic, like your taste shattered something in him and is currently rewiring his brain chemistry.

"Holy shit," he pants, pulling back just enough for air, his chin glistening with your slick. "You taste—fuck. Fuck you taste so good."

Before you can respond, he's back on you, devouring you like a starving man. He experiments with every flick and stroke of his tongue, eyes intently watching you—watching, listening, learning. He hones in on the spots that make your hips jerk or thighs clamp around his head.

Each moan you give him is answered by a deep, guttural sound from his throat, like he's getting off just from pleasing you. It's raw, unfiltered, and so undeniably desperate.

Then he pauses, breath warm and heavy against your skin. Slowly, carefully, he adjusts his position. His thumbs come up to gently pull back your hood, revealing the sensitive bundle of nerves underneath.

And then, ever so lightly, he starts to kitten-lick your clit.

He definitely learned that trick from the dozen of videos he watched for 'educational purposes'.

"Oh god, right there," you gasp, throwing your head back. "Right there. Just like that."

A high-pitched whine escapes him, almost as if he has been waiting his whole life to hear that he's doing a good job. His grip on your thighs tightens as he pulls you impossibly closer. He buries his face even deeper in your pussy, dragging slow and reverent strokes over your clit.

Wet clicking noises fill the air, mixing in with the grunts, pants, and your ragged cries.

You start to grind against his face, chasing that sweet, mounting pleasure in your abdomen. "A-ah—you're so good. Bob, you're doing so good."

He groans again, much louder this time. The vibration against your core makes your legs twitch.

His mouth is eager and deliciously sloppy, tongue flicking experimentally then circling with new precision when he hears your broken moans.

He's learning you inside and out—hungrily, obsessively. Every whimper and desperate cry to God you give him is fuel.

Then, his lips close around your clit and suck.

Your back arches. The sensation is pure electricity; it is magical yet almost painfully overwhelming.

"Fuck! Right there. Don't stop, don't stop."

He would rather die.

His fingers flex on the plush of your thighs to ground himself. This is the tightest he has ever held onto you. He's always worried about hurting you with his strength, opting for feather-light touches that never leave you feeling quite satisfied.

But now?

Now he's undeniably pussy-drunk, and the fear has vanished entirely.

"You're so pretty," he pants in between strokes, his words muffled against your cunt. "I want—to do this—forever. I'll—get better. Let me—make you come. Please."

You're already right there.

With your hips jerking, thighs trembling uncontrollably, and his name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer, you are coming undone. It's the worship in his voice, the way he presses adoring kisses to your clit between licks, and the primal desire he has to be good for you that sends you over the edge.

You wail, clutching his hair as your orgasm crashes over you. Your thighs clamp around him, your juices spilling out all over his lips and chin. He licks it up, greedy and reverent, not daring to waste a single drop.

But he doesn't stop.

Being as inexperienced as he is, he keeps going with the same eagerness and fervor. It helps you to ride out your high, but quickly leaves you feeling overstimulated. A part of you wanted to push through the pain and get lost in the pleasure again. However, that familiar sharp ache in your clit makes you flinch.

You squirm and push his head back. Only then does he finally pull away, eyes glazed over, like he just tasted heaven.

You're still catching your breath, thighs twitching as your body tries to recover from the storm he just dragged you through.

His voice cracks through the silence. Soft. Unsure. Raw.

"Did I do okay?" Bob asks, slowly rising.

You blink, trying to focus your vision on him once again. And fuck, he looks absolutely ruined.

His lips are pink and puffy. Your slick coats his chin and cheeks. His lashes are clumped with moisture, like he cried from overstimulation. Maybe he did.

Your chest aches again with that same devious desire to wreck him. The way he looks at you—like a sinner pleading for salvation—makes you feel like a goddess; divine and beautiful, with his animalistic devotion dripping from every glance.

You sit up on trembling elbows. "You did so good, baby. You were so perfect."

Relief washes over him. That same crooked little smile appears and his shoulders sag with solace.

"I wanna get better," he whispers, eyes flicking down to the damp spot on your bedsheets. "Wanna learn everything you like. Wanna be good for you every time."

That sends a pulse of heat straight through you. You reach out your arms in silent invitation.

He climbs up your body and you grab his jaw to kiss him, tasting yourself on his mouth. You cradle his face as he hovers there. It is sticky and messy, but so painfully intimate.

"My good boy," you whisper against his lips, rubbing your thumbs just underneath his eyes where the tears escaped. "I adore you."

A blush spreads across his cheeks.

He gently lowers his full weight against you and shyly nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. You stroke his hair, over and over, slow and calming. Every pass of your hand helps him relax, to feel safe and appreciated.

"You okay?" you ask softly, careful not to disturb his peace.

Bob nods into your skin. "Never been better."

You press a kiss to the crown of his head. "You're trembling."

"Only a little," he admits, arms wrapping around your waist. "Just can't believe I did that."

You lay there for awhile in the quiet afterglow. His breathing eventually evens out but your fingers never stop moving; they stroke his back, lightly scratch at his neck and scalp, and trace soothing circles between his shoulder blades.

Eventually, his voice breaks through the stillness again. It is low and timid.

"When you're ready. . ." he begins.

You hum, eyes still closed. "Yeah?"

There's a pause. Then, you can feel a bashful grin growing against your neck.

"Could you try sitting on my face?"

[luna-azzurra]

Write Rivals With Chemistry So Hot It Hurts

╰ Rivalry isn’t hate — it’s obsession True rivals aren't just like, “ugh, I dislike you.” They’re watching each other. Studying. Matching moves. Thinking about each other when they shouldn’t. Hating how much they notice the other person. Rivalry is two sides of the same coin: hatred’s messy little sibling is fascination.

╰ Let them know exactly where to hit—and hesitate The best rivals know exactly where to stick the knife. Childhood wounds. Secret fears. Insecurities no one else sees. But the most powerful moment isn't when they stab, it's when they hesitate. When they flinch. When the reader sees the care underneath the kill shot.

╰ Make every win personal Every victory between rivals should feel like flirting with a knife’s edge. They don't just beat each other; they get under each other's skin. "I outsmarted you" translates directly to "I'm the only one who really sees you." (And no, they're not ready to talk about why that makes them insane.)

╰ Layer the attraction under everything You don't have to write "he found her hot" every five seconds. (Please don't.) Just lace it into the friction. The way they notice each other’s hands. The way a sarcastic smile feels like a slap and a kiss at the same time. Let it be unspoken, which somehow makes it ten times louder.

╰ Give them one private, honest moment and then destroy them for it That one late-night conversation. That brush of honesty. That accidental partnership in a bar fight. That glimpse of trust that leaves them both raw and feral because now it’s personal. Now it hurts. And guess what? Neither of them is stable enough to handle it like adults.

╰ Let them wound each other in ways no one else can Rivals with chemistry are like: “I know your softest place. I know where you hurt. And maybe I’m the only one who could ever touch it.” Terrifying. Intimate. Sexy. Self-destructive. Delicious.

╰ Don’t make it easy to flip to love If they hook up too soon, it’s cheap. If they confess too soon, it’s fake. They have to fight it. They have to screw it up. They have to almost kiss and almost kill each other in the same breath. The reward is sweeter because it’s hard won.

╰ Make them jealous, but make it messy Not cutesy "oh no I'm jealous" moments. Ugly jealousy. Pride-shredding, shame-inducing jealousy. Watching their rival smile at someone else and feeling like they're drowning in acid and denial. Bonus points if they pretend they’re above it and then spiral anyway.

╰ Tension isn’t just in the fighting, it’s in the silences It’s the stare across the room that says “I hate you and I want you” with zero words. It’s the hand that lingers a second too long after pulling them out of danger. It's the unsent text. It's the "accidental" meeting. Sometimes not speaking burns hotter than the screaming matches.

╰ Remember, they don’t want to ruin each other, they want to matter At the core of a rival/chemistry dynamic is one truth: “I want to matter to you more than anyone else does.” And they’ll deny it. And fight it. And wreck themselves over it. (And we, as the readers, will eat it with a goddamn spoon.)

[tttabii]

— 이희승 to desire is to demolish.. lee heeseung x reader

mentions of past live, vampire heeseung and mortal reader. reader's parents were vampire hunters in the past, in the present they have no memories of the past "TO DESIRE IS TO DEMOLISH"

Heeseung understood the meaning of this line better than anyone else.

His desire for you was not unnoticed by his six other vampire mates. In a city where vampires were hunted, feared, and hated-he shouldn't have wanted you.

But he did.

So deeply that it hollowed him out.

You a human girl, with such a good heart, always kind, always too generous. He hated how they used their biting tone towards you-those pathetic humans, your own family. and of course you let them. All while wearing that fake smile as if it was a mask that just never fit.

He'd seen it all. Heeseung had been there that night, as a bat quiet as a shadow, hidden behind the dining room hallway. And as you were there with your head low, your parents' words crushing you, Heeseung felt something stir in him.

"You will never get anywhere in your life unless you are somehow able to rank in the top 10."

"Why can't you just be like every other girl?"

"Detective? Don't be stupid. Girls like you shouldn't belong in horrendous fields like that."

You didn't say anything.You didn't cry.You simply swallowed their disappointment as a poison, the type in your veins that chills your core.

Heeseung shifted in the shadows, wings tucked. A part of him wanted to swoop in right then and there-to show them what real fear was.

But he didn't.

Not yet.

Later that night, bathed in moonlight, he fed. Animal blood was never enough, not anymore. Not since he had tasted the idea of you. You made it worse when you started reading up on vampires, and you quietly started following your family and neighbors around to eavesdrop on their whispers.

Burned vampire safehouses. Bodies turned to ash.

"They're dangerous," someone said. "They will hurt our kind eventually."

If only they knew how dangerous Heeseung could be. Especially when it came to you.

You weren't one of them. You never were. Even in your past life, you had a fascination with vampires-curious, compelled by their silence, pulled in by how special they can make you feel. You met him in the woods when you thought he was human, then it turned into sneaking him food and talk to him under starlight.

"I don't care what they say," you had whispered once, brushing dirt from his cheek. "You're not a monster."

He had smiled, not with fangs, but with warmth. You had kissed him like you meant it.

But you were only 21 when you died.

So young.

Too young for someone like you to leave a world so cruel and misunderstood.

You'd taken your own life-because your family found out. They'd sensed his scent lingering on your skin. They punished you for it, locked you away in silence and shame. He hadn't gotten there in time. He still sees your body sometimes in dreams-cold, pale, alone. It fueled something bitter in him.

He wanted revenge for that.

Even if it took 200 years.

And then he found you again.

Reborn.

No memories.

Same eyes.

Same soul.

Now, decades later, he stood in his dim room, wine glass in hand, filled with crimson liquid that stained his lips. In his other hand: an old black-and-white photograph.

You.

Smiling, young, foolishly alive.

The same face you wore now. Your parents? Still cruel. Still forcing you into a mold you didn't belong in. Still never letting you live.

Heeseung swirled the blood in his glass, eyes never leaving your face in that photo. His friends laughed in the background, joking about who'd hunt for more blood next.

But he didn't join them.

Not yet. He had waited two centuries for this moment. To find you again. And this time he wouldn't let the world ruin you. But maybe, he'd ruin you himself.

Because to desire is to demolish. To love something so much, you end up breaking it. Crushing everything in your path just to keep it close.

And oh, how he desired you.

Even if it meant turning you.

Even if it meant blood on his hands-your family's blood.

Even if, in the end, he couldn't tell whether he was saving you... or destroying you piece by piece.

🦇! You slammed your bedroom door again. It felt like a pattern. Lock the door, ignore their screaming, cry only when it was silent again. You walked into the bathroom and stared into the mirror. The girl staring back didn't look like you anymore. She was someone they were trying to create. A guinea pig. A puppet. You hated it. Every bit of it. Science? For what? You could barely get through chemistry without feeling like your brain was rotting. You knew what you cared about-you had always known. Criminology. Justice. You didn't want to be behind a microscope. You wanted to be behind the truth. But your parents had other plans with their money and their power.

You remembered the day your professor told you in the softest voice, "You don't belong in science. You belong in the field. I can just see the light in your eyes when we talk about criminal cases, not chemical equations." And when your parents found out? He was gone. Fired. Overnight. Because no one questioned them-not when they owned hospitals, funded research, held power over the city's science museum and board of education. And certainly not when it came to their daughter.

But you never gave up. Under your bed lay stacks of printed crime documentaries, old case files you'd gotten your hands on, and textbooks bought secretly from graduating seniors. You met Giselle during one of those tutoring sessions, and she quickly became your lifeline. She admired your persistence, helped cover for you, even smuggled you practice exams and study notes. With her help, your hidden education began to thrive. Heeseung watched it all. From the trees outside your window, in his silent, bat-like form. You never noticed. He observed the way your back bent just so when you stretched, how your fingers played with your messy hair as you read in that worn tank top and cotton shorts. The glasses slipped down your nose. A mind ablaze. A heart still soft after so many wounds.

But what he noticed the most was the scent of your blood. Warm. Pure. Strong. But it had always spiked when you were upset. You burned like a furnace when angry, and Heeseung? He wanted that heat like a dying man. It made him restless. It made him ache.

Outside, the world was getting worse for both mortals and his kind. More human homes burned in the night-not from his group, no. But from the starving rogue vampires still hiding. Not every vampire followed Heeseung's way. The allure of the blood was too tempting. And it was going to become more dangerous now that your parents' scientists were working on tools to detect vampires. Lethal ones.

You were stuck between two worlds of danger. And Heeseung had waited 200 years to find you again. He wasn't going to lose you now.

He sat perched on the roof, wine glass in hand filled with thick red liquid that wasn't from animals this time. Not tonight. The glass trembled slightly between his fingers as he stared through your window again, seeing your silhouette pacing. You always did that when you were thinking too hard.

He pulled out the photo. Black and white. Edges worn and cracked from the years. You looked so different then. And yet, you didn't. Still bright-eyed. Still gentle. But you died too young back then. Barely 21. A suicide, they said.

But Heeseung knew better. You were driven to the edge. Suffocated by control. By them. He was meant to turn you back then. He should've. He failed. And now, you were back-flesh, blood, and fragile. No memories of your past. No memories of him.

He'd make sure it didn't happen again.

Back inside, you were curled up in your chair, blanket around your shoulders, crime doc open on your laptop. Your eyes flicked to the dark window. You felt it again-that strange pull. Like someone was there. Watching. You shook your head and whispered, "Maybe I'm going crazy." But outside, a voice murmured lowly, "No, little dove. You're just finally waking up."

🦇!

Heeseung had infiltrated the college records system at midnight. One name in the system. One fake ID. A perfectly fabricated background. It wasn't difficult. Centuries had taught him how to bend the rules in all the right ways without getting caught. And he even chose criminology as his study-of course he did. Not just to be near you. But to understand your mind again. Every last inch of who you were now.His friends had warned him, time and time again. "You're whipped" Jake had scoffed, watching Heeseung reorganize your class schedule onto his phone.

"Two centuries man. That's not devotion, that's madness," Sunghoon shrugged, tossing a blood-pack into the sink. "Just don't go overboard. She doesn't know yet. Don't force it."

Heeseung kept quiet. Their warnings rolled off him like dust. They just didn't get it. You weren't just a girl. You were his. And history was repeating itself.

You were twenty. One year away. One crack away. He could hear the beat of your heart from across the campus, it was all tension. He could hear your blood pulse faster each time you left the science wing. Your shoulders tensed tighter every time your phone lit up with a message from them. And he was scared-terrified-that if they pushed too hard again, you'd break.

Just like last time. And this time, he wouldn't let it happen.

You walked into the library, fingers clutching your chemistry notes like they were going to strangle you. You were tired. You couldn't make sense of the formulas-the letters and numbers seemed to blur into gibberish and you wanted nothing more than to forget that language. And underneath, your criminology book lay open like a secret you weren't allowed to know. You should've felt excitement looking at it-passion-but all you felt now was a sense of surrender.You surveyed the room. All tables were taken. The campus was buzzing-because it was midterms week.Except for one spot. He sat at a table beside the window all alone. A perfect stream of golden light fell onto his figure. His hair-black with a hint of purple when illuminated by the sun-fell nicely onto his forehead. He had a strong jaw and his lips were just parted as he read something intensely, his fingers lightly curled under the spine of his book. His black long-sleeve t-shirt looked good on him, it fit closely to his arms, slightly flexing the muscle there with every slight movement. He had pale skin. Dark lashes. He had intensity in every look. You wavered. But you had no choice. "Um, excuse me," you said lowly. "Is this seat taken?"

His eyes flicked to yours.

And for a moment... time stilled.

Heeseung had familiarized himself with your presence before you even spoke, he always did. But he wasn't prepared for how it felt to look into your eyes again. Your voice. Your voice, after so long. And now you were standing in front of him, asking for a seat at his table like fate was giving him another chance.

He cleared his throat, snapping out of it. "No. Go ahead."

You sat across from him, feeling grateful and tired, trying not to take too long looking at the handsome stranger while you got your notes all laid out. But feeling his gaze curious along with you. "...You study criminology too?" You asked, nodding your head at the case law textbook that he had opened and worn out.

He looked down at the text and a coy smile formed. "Yeah. I guess you could say I've always had a thing for justice."

There was something a bit nostalgic about the way he said it, like it meant more than the sentence led on. You faintly smiled. "Me too. But I'm not sure between this and chemistry."

He glanced at your notes, then your eyes. "Why chemistry?"

"My parents," you sighed. "They'd rather see me in a lab coat than catching criminals."| He didn't answer right away.

Instead, his voice lowered, quiet and strangely comforting. "Then maybe they're not seeing who you really are." You looked up sharply, heart skipping. He wasn't wrong. "What's your name?" you asked. "Heeseung." It rolled off his tongue like silk. You repeated it under your breath, committing it to memory before you realized what you were doing. "Nice to meet you," you whispered.

Heeseung had started tutoring you in chemistry after the library incident. It was spontaneous and unexpected-a characteristic of him-but when he noticed how your eyes drooped with confusion over chemical bonds, he just gave an inviting pat on the seat beside him. "Come sit here," he said quietly. And you did. You sank down the seat, close enough that your shoulder touched his. He leaned toward you, warm breath blowing over your notes as he inspected them to usher your pencil to fix a reaction. He walked you through everything slowly, with a kindness that belied the impatient ire he projected when he was alone. But what he was most impressed with the way you looked at him, thinking he wasn't looking. Like something inside you recognized him. Your smell wrapped around him too-something sweet, strawberries and cinnamon-a smell which was very familiar to him. And then your heart... oh your heart. It remember him too. Reacted to him like it had back when he used to sneak into your chambers, centuries ago, laying his head on your shoulder while the stars watched silently overhead.

He thought he'd lost that forever. "Have we... met before?" you asked him suddenly one evening. You had been walking together outside. He was taking you to your favorite cafe, which had only become your favorite because he was taking you there. Giselle had backed out at the last minute, but you didn't mind. Heeseung blinked at you. The question hit him deeper than you knew. "Maybe in another life," he said, teasingly, hiding the storm washing over him. "Why?" "I don't know," you murmured, looking down at the cobbled pavement beneath you. "I just feel... comforted being next to you. I've never felt this way before. Except for Giselle. And now you." He hummed again, this time slowly. He wanted to say I never stopped loving you. But instead... he took your hand. The crowd ahead thickened, voices began to rise, footsteps quickened. A protest? A march? His fingers still slipped in between yours, softly-like slipping into a favorite song. You froze for a moment, but didn't pull your hand away. He felt your pulse quicken.

Just like old times.

Thoughts of the past flooded Heeseung's mind, where you used to sit with him on the balcony of the castle, head leaning against his chest, stars sizzling above you like embers. Nobody understood you. Not your family. Not anyone. But Heeseung... he understood. "Do you think we will meet again in another life?" you had whispered. "Somewhere we can just...be happy? Same species, same time. Nobody trying to murder you. Nobody tearing us apart." He didn't answer immediately. He couldn't. Your heart was beating too loud. Too tempting. He buried his face into the crook of your neck to resist not biting you. Then he shrugged and said casually, "Maybe, if the universe is nice for once." He shook his head and returned to the present, trying to ignore the noise in the crowd as best as he could, but even as he closed his eyes, he could still hear bits and pieces of commentary from the crowd: "Vampires are ruining this world-" "Garlic in your houses, I'm telling you!" "They walk among us!" He almost laughed. Garlic? That was a myth they let spread just to laugh at humans. He tightened his grip on your hand, leading you through the crowd. When someone threw themselves into you hard, and you stumbled, he was on you quicker than most of the people in the crowd.

And when he saw how thick the gathering was, he didn't hesitate. "Hold on," he said. Before you could protest, he crouched slightly and lifted you onto his back. His movements were effortless, like you weighed nothing. You gasped, arms wrapping around his neck. "H-Heeseung?!" "Too crowded," he muttered, calmly. "You almost got trampled." You hid your face in his shoulder, heart racing. But even then... you felt safe. Just like before. And somewhere deep in your soul, that feeling scared you more than the crowd ever could.

The last few weeks of being with Heeseung felt like taking a breath of fresh air. He was slowly peeling away your good-girl shell, sometimes slowly, sometimes gently, and sometimes all at the same time. The midnight drives in his slick black car became your secret escape. The sound of the engine roaring, the blinking lights of Seoul's neon approaching and dispersing; he made you feel alive. It was dangerous. It was exhilarating. But more than anything else, it was him. And somehow, he was always able to make you feel safe. The first time he invited you to watch him race, you almost hesitated. "You sure this is okay?" you asked feebly, scanning the narrow alleyway crowded with sharp-eyed men and girls in leather. Heeseung leaned closer, his voice a low, warm breath. "Really, would I let anything happen to you?" You believed him. You rode beside him in the passenger seat that night, his hand occasionally reaching over to steady you when he took sharp turns. The adrenaline was addictive. Afterward, you were hungry and laughing, heart still racing as he bought you late-night street food.

"You eat like you haven't in days," he teased, gently wiping the crumbs off the corner of your lips with his thumb. His eyes softened, watching you chew. He didn't need to eat, not human food at least, but he always made sure you did. In school, Heeseung was untouchable to everyone else-but with you, he was different. He walked with you in the hallways, ignoring every desperate gaze and whisper.

You noticed the tension in his jaw as you leaned over his lap to retrieve your criminology book, so close to his neck that your face was almost touching it.He was resisting instincts that the average person could never comprehend, but he never pushed you away. When you admitted to him that you had never drank alcohol before, he simply laughed, his eyes wide and bright like you had told him that you had never looked at the sky. "Then let me fix that," he grinned. He took you to a hidden bar downtown-not the chaotic kind filled with grinding bodies and cheap drinks, but the kind with dim lights, red velvet couches, jazz playing in the background, and top-shelf liquor.

You sat across from him, letting him teach you how to taste whiskey and sip slowly. He watched you with such intent-every scrunch of your nose, every nervous giggle.

He didn't allow you to pay for anything. You protested.

He didn't care.

By the time you were tipsy, you were holding his hand and giggling while he walked you home.He rubbed soft cirlces into your thumb with his hand from time to time, looking down at you with a smirk on his face.

You felt safe.

But that night when you walked through the front door, everything changed.

Your parents were waiting. Cold. Silent.

The next day, your world started to tear itself apart. "He's not right for you." "He's a bad influence." "You should be studying, not getting drunk and riding around with some street rat." You tried to defend him-to defend yourself-but they wouldn't allow it. No chance in hell. Especially after the horrible news about the vampire. Attacks. More dead. And a picture of a street you recognized from one of Heeseung's races slowly fading in and out on the screen. That was it. They showed up at your college the next day. Shattered your life in one breath. You came home to find all your criminology notes, everything Heeseung helped you with, on fire. They took all your textbooks and tossed them in the fireplace. You screamed. You begged. But they watched coldly, "You're done with that life. For your own good." You cried until you couldn't catch your breath. Until you were hoarse and your body couldn't handle it anymore. That night, Heeseung found your bent body on the floor through your window, mascara streaking your cheeks, desperately clawing to get your papers out of the ashes. His fists were clenched.

His jaw locked.

He had stayed silent for centuries, bled in silence, suffered in silence. But seeing you like this again, just like 200 years ago... He couldn't take it anymore. "She cried herself to sleep, you know," he growled later that night to one of his own. "She didn't deserve this." "Don't be stupid," Jay warned. "You can't start anything now-" "I don't care," Heeseung snapped. "They stole her fire again. They burned her future. Again. I'm not waiting this time." The moonlight made his eyes glow blood-red. His smile was gone. 🦇!

When midnight struck, the full moon lit your room with cold silver light. You lay curled on your bed, legs pulled to your chest, throat burned raw from hours earlier screaming at your locked bedroom door after your parents simply didn't listen and grounded you for weeks with no alternative. You had committed the sin of liking someone they didn't, and kicked at the floor in frustration as your thoughts raced. Then the TV changed to breaking news status and you froze. Your heart dropped, it was on the screen-all the names of a few vampires-faces made known to all of Seoul. It was familiar. Heeseung... and his friends.He was a vampire.All this freaking time. You stared at the screen, stomach writhing inside you and breath caught in your throat.But the weirdest part?You didn't feel afraid. Just as the ache in your chest started up again, you heard soft knocks from the direction of your window. You bolted upright, eyes wide and hardly daring to believe it. And there was Heeseung on your windowsill, like he hadn't just be outed as one of the city's most wanted.

"You're not supposed to be here!" you hissed, stumbling over to unlatch the window and pulling him in.

As soon as his feet hit the floor, he didn't waste a second. His hands were cupping your cheeks, and then his lips were crashing against yours in a kiss so desperate, so full of pent-up longing, that your knees nearly gave out. You gasped, mind reeling, especially after what you'd just seen on the news. But then his forehead rested against yours, his thumb stroking your cheek softly, like you were fragile, like you were still his.

"You're not scared?" He said, his voice filled with disbelief as his eyes scanned your face. "I'm basically a wanted criminal... or a vampire." You shook your head without thought. He didn't scare you. He never had. Even now, when every rational part of your brain was screaming that he should.Heeseung swallowed hard, his eyes dropping to your lips, then to your neck, down to your flushed cheeks, and the thumping of your heart that was calling to him in waves. The kiss had awakened something in both of you, and amidst all of the things he was mauling in his head, he was trying-failing-to hold himself together. He kissed you again. This time deeper, and as pushed you against his body, his tongue teasingly slipped between your lips. "Heeseung," you gasped as you tried to breathe into his mouth. "You're going to get caught. My parents, they..." "They're making weapons," he interrupted, pulling away just enough to look into your eyes. "Lethal weapons. Against our kind." Your breath hitched. "Oh."

You looked down at your feet, fingers nervously pulling at the hem of your shirt. You didn't know what to say. Your parents had always been firm in their hatred-fear-of vampires, but this? Creating weapons? Your throat tightened. Heeseung stared at you, battling the hunger rising inside him, the scent of your skin driving him mad. His fangs threatened to break free, his hands trembling as they found your waist, pulling you closer. You didn't flinch. Instead, you looked up at him, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Are you hungry?"

Heeseung's eyes flashed crimson, and he tried to turn his face away from your neck, but you were already reaching for him. Your hand gently guided his head back down, nudging him toward the space just beneath your jaw. "Come on..." you whispered, heart pounding. "No, I can't," he muttered, voice strained. "I can't do that to you." But you didn't let go. You tugged him closer, your fingers curling into the back of his shirt, your body trembling but not from fear. "Yes, you can," you said, your voice breaking slightly. "I'm tired of living like this. I want to choose this. You." His control snapped. He kissed you again, lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, to your neck. You felt his breath ghost over your skin, his lips tracing along your pulse before he paused, hesitating one last time. Then he pressed a kiss to your neck, soft and reverent, before his fangs finally sank in.

As the poison spread through your bloodstream, the world before you blurred. The bite sharp, stinging, unbearable, and euphoric. A soft, broken moan slipped from your mouth, your body spasming in a way that was somewhere between pain and need altogether. You held onto Heeseung tighter-clutched him-as the world was spinning, your vision fading, your heart alternating between a slow and fast pace. It was all just too much. Consuming. Heeseung finally let go of his lips, lips that were slick, bloodied, and now dripping of your blood down his chin. Your blood. He looked down at you, panting, staring at you-at what he just did-at the pain you were in-only to not at all come to regret it. Not for a second. You swayed in his arms, your eyes fluttering shut like you were absolutely out of it. "Shhh..." He murmured, his tone gentle; in a way you took as lullaby. "Tomorrow will all be okay." He slowly kissed your forehead and put you onto your bed, brushing stray strands of hair from your warm face. He gently wiped the blood from your neck-as far as it goes. Removing the immediate evidence-but not the bite... not the mark... his mark... that would be on your skin forever. A forever bond. A turning that could never be undone.

He looked at you once more, eyes lingering on the unconscious expression of pain and peace across your face, then turned and climbed back out the window, slipping into the night. The engine of his black car purred low, barely audible beneath the hum of the quiet midnight streets. Jake leaned against the passenger door, smirking knowingly as Heeseung approached.

"Did you finally turn her?" Jake asked slyly, intrigue hanging in his voice. "Yup." Heeseung was flat, his voice unemotional, dark eyes caught between guilt and something a lot colder. Jay stepped out of the shadows, arms crossed and giving Heeseung a sharp look. "So where is she?" Heeseung pushed back into the hood of the car, eyes drifting up to the moon that was glowing above. "That's the plan." He muttered. "Revenge." He stopped for a moment, running a hand through his messy hair before continuing. "Her parents will find out when she wakes up starving... When she craves blood for the first time... human blood. They will find out when they realize they turned their daughter into their worst nightmare." The others were silent, watching him closely. Jake raised an eyebrow but didn't comment. Jay's lips twitched slightly, as if amused. Heeseung almost dropped his voice to a whisper. "She has to learn. I'd love to help her... but she needs to learn it all by herself first."

He didn't say it aloud, but his chest ached. He hated leaving you like this, vulnerable and scared. But this was the only way to free you from the cage your parents built for you. The only way to make them pay for what they did-to both of you. Before they could drive off, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a small note he had written earlier. It was a map, a location, and three words scribbled in rushed handwriting: "Come find me." He went back, climbed in through the window one last time, and tucked the note into the pocket of your hoodie. His fingers brushed your hand gently, lingering for a moment. Then he disappeared once more into the darkness, leaving the room silent. And you-now half vampire, heartbroken and unknowing-slept through the night, unaware of the hunger that would burn inside you come morning.

[bunny-jpeg]

hey bunny !! can i get butter tart + soufflé with mai tai + sparkling water with oscar piastri please ?? extra service dom osc if you can pls🥰

-🗞️

bakery menu

want to submit your own fic? then check out the menu! there's something for everyone and i hope you enjoy it! if you have any questions please feel free to message me, i'm always happy to help! as for this lovely order, thank you for ordering! i love this combination, it's so cute. just a side note, i always find it cute that people request oscar in some of the most gentle situations. like various other drivers can vary depending on the order, but i find oscar the most consistent with like softer fics. which is fine! no judgement, i guess it just speaks to how he is in a way, haha. but thank you!

butter tart ("let's ruin ourselves for anyone else.") + soufflé: ("i'll be gentle.") + mai tai (loss of virginity) + sparkling water (gentle sex)

cw: smut/pwp, first time, virgin!reader, gentle sex, service dom!oscar, oscar takes your pleasure seriously, missionary. protected sex (smart oscar)

"i have an idea." oscar said one night, him curled into your side on the couch. his lips pressed against your temple, "i know you've been wanting to lose your virginity already. so tonight, let's ruin ourselves for anyone else."

you froze, your eyes wide as you looked at your boyfriend. it wasn't that you didn't want to lose your virginity. it was just hearing your boyfriend ask in such a forward way made your core throb.

oscar noticed your expression and said quickly, "unless you don't want to! that's fine too! i just thought i'd ask!"

you took his hand and linked his fingers between yours and said, "oscar... let's do it." then smiled at him, "let's ruin ourselves for everyone else." and you watched oscar light up

oscar led you to the bedroom. you had slept in the same bed multiple times, he had even fingered you on two occasions, but it had never been like this. it wasn't that your virginity was some guarded secret or you were saving yourself for marriage.

you just wanted to sleep with someone you were in a relationship. you thought getting out high school would make that easier since you were in a bigger city now and had more confidence. but the sea of men who wanted a quick fuck was a huge turn off. so, you just never lost your virginity. and oscar was the total opposite of them, he wanted to make sure you felt no pressure to have sex with him.

"you don't owe me anything, i want you for all of you. not just your body." he said as he held you hand while you were out getting coffee. it was so endearing that it made you want to have sex with him. it wasn't about hooking up, oscar piastri loved you.

you started to get your clothes off while oscar found an unopened box of condoms from his desk drawer. you jokingly asked, "should i be worried?"

oscar looked over and went a bit pink in the face, "oh no! they're new. um, i thought that they were better to have then not having them. we have to be safe." he shook the package and smiled. it made you giggle.

"don't worry." you said as you got your socks off, "i was just wondering if you were hoping to get lucky tonight."

he replied, with such honesty, "well i am lucky every time i get to see you." then gave you a smile. you were a bit gobsmacked by his comment as he went back to the bed. he then started to undress as well.

you wanted to cover your face as you said, "thank you, oscar. thank you so much." and he leaned in to kiss you on the cheeks.

"no thanks needed." he said as he took a hold of your shoulders for a moment then kissed you on the lips once more. he eventually got his jeans off, and soon after you were both naked in bed. the light in the room was bright with the night sky coming in through the large windows of the room.

you felt like the center of oscar's world as he looked at you. he smiled at you before he gave you a sweet kiss.

"one last time, do you wan-"

you took him by the face, his boyish good looks made your stomach twist in knots. you were nervous, but excited. to be so close to him. you said with certainly. "yes. i want it."

he replied, "alright. i'll be gentle, i promise." then pulled away to grab one of the condoms and get between your legs. he could feel the excitement in his chest too. he would've loved to make love to you months earlier, but he wanted to make sure that you were okay with it.

sex is only fun with all partners are willing. and he wanted you more than willing. he got the condom on, he could feel the heat staining his cheeks. he said softly, "i love you."

you held one of the pillows on his bed up against your chest as you held onto it tightly. oscar angled your hips and said, "i love you too." before you felt his cock get into you.

oscar took his time, no rushing it. he shuddered, like ship breaking ice. oscar was the first person you'd ever have sex with. and it made his heart leap. while virginity was stupid, it touched a nerve in a part of his brain. it was a little erotic that he was your first. but as he kissed you, he knew that he loved you. he wasn't a virgin killer, he was your boyfriend.

"everything okay?" he asked as his gaze met yours. his breathing was already growing, it all felt so good. it made everything in his brain light up in the best was possible. he had some sexual experience, but to be this close to you was a feeling he had been searching for. happiness, lust, love, overwhelming joy, the thump in his chest as he softly moved against you.

you nodded and looked up at him. you smiled, you felt painfully in love. he respected you, was kind to you. he looked at you with such joy. you thought about his additions to small collection of cat themed knick-knacks the he picked up for you his travels. the late night phone calls and the homecomings. how he perked up when he saw you, the time he jokingly called you "his soul" in an interview and when you saw the clip of him saying that you almost spat out your coffee. oscar adored you, and that made you willing to sleep with him. because he respected you just as you did. a mutual admiration and love of one another.

"you're stunning, gorgeous. wow." he felt more heat in his face, "i don't think i have enough words to describe you. they should come up with new words."

you giggled and placed your hands over your face for a moment. you smiled widely under your hands as you said, "oh my god."

oscar had his hands on either side of you. his check close to the pillow on your chest. he said as he moved against you, "don't hide yourself. i want to see your face. c'mon."

you took your hands away and held onto the pillow once more, letting him move against you. his cock hitting all the right places. you said, "you always know how to make me feel loved."

he kissed your forehead, "of course. that's the goal." then started to move a little faster. the pleasure moved through both of you. you clenched your legs around your boyfriend's waist as you tried to meet his thrusts.

this felt good. there was no other way to put it. oscar loved it as did you. your pretty nails dug into the pillow as your boyfriend humped against you. it wasn't a heavy pace, just enough to make you both turned on.

"i love you."

"i love you too." you responded as oscar leaned in and kissed you on the lips. your heart fluttered as you moved with him. it felt incredible and oscar was inclined to agree. a perfect fit for one another.

"i love you." he said

"i love you too." you said again.

you soon clenched tightly onto the pillow you were holding onto. you moaned into the fabric of it as he continued to move against you. this was unlike anything you ever really felt. even toys didn't make you feel this good. it was like a current running through you. you felt fuzzy in the head but wide awake as all of it came to a climax. you let out a sweet noise that made your lover hot all over.

he watched you as he continued to move. to see you reach climax only made him want to move faster. to reach his own so close behind yours. he was proud he made you cum, that was a sign of honour in his eyes. that he knew how to make you feel good. and that he'd learn how to make you feel even better as time went on. a lady deserves to finish first. and oscar was happy to do his best to bring you to climax. he pulled out despite wearing a condom. he stroked his slick cock in the condom into his finished. his back hunched for a moment and fire licked his stomach.

you looked at one another and soon oscar's lips were on your once more. his softening cock got hard once more as you two moved in the bed, lips and hands on one another. something clicked between the two of you, you liked being intimate together. you liked having sex, it was fun. and when you pulled away from the kiss and panted out, "again. please."

oscar knew that he was in no position to deny you. <3

[daosies]

how they love you

xavier, rafayel ♡ gn!reader

warnings: major xavier and rafayel story spoilers, reader is the protagonist from the game (but gender neutral), rafayel is his own warning (hes a bit of a freak)

notes: im writing this like i understand xavier and rafayels lore (i dont. all i did was read up on reddit and the wiki before going straight off the dome.)

"xavier," jeremiah calls incredulously, "you're staring."

"no, i'm not," xavier lies straight through his teeth. his periwinkle eyes trail after you like they're bound to you, held together by a red string that knots at his irises.

(maybe they are.)

xavier blinks, resting for but a moment before his gaze returns. it'll always return—xavier thinks he does a lot of that. return.

"at least try to pretend," jeremiah remarks, tender expression betraying his incredulous tone. despite the fact that xavier is loitering in philo, posing a hazard to the nearby flora with his intense aura, jeremiah can't bring himself to say anything more.

xavier is in love—but that's not right, jeremiah thinks. xavier has always been in love. he loved you back in philos, in all your incarnations and the ones thereafter. xavier loved you when you sparred against him, when you rose to the throne, and even when you suffered and while everyone was against you, he loved you then, too.

jeremiah supposes that it's only right that xavier loves you now. because xavier loves with his whole being, it's not just his eyes that follow after you, but rather, his existence.

xavier follows you despite the era, traveling centuries back and staying just to catch a glimpse of you, to glimmer, ever so slightly, in your incomparable radiance.

we could go back, jeremiah thinks, conjuring up the possibility despite his nerves telling him not to. we could go back to philos. the core within your heart holds infinite possibilities.

if xavier wanted to, he could obtain your aether core, and that would be enough to return to the future—where you still exist, sure, but more importantly (to jeremiah, at least), where philos exists.

("we will not kill them," xavier muttered darkly, "do not bring this topic up again. i will find another solution.")

(and that was where jeremiah went wrong. because to xavier, philos is nothing. you have always been the whole, vast universe. you are the most important thing in this life, and the many more thereafter; and to xavier, no future matters except the one you exist in now.)

so, he did. he tried, at least. xavier scoured the ruined earth for protocores that could mimic the same capabilities of yours. he lived through centuries on earth, fighting for existence despite knowing that the answer lied, as it always has been, in you.

when your incarnation appeared, jeremiah never once doubted xavier's judgement. while the other backtrackers under xavier's command went mad, trying to harvest your aether core to return to philos, xavier fought—but more than that, actually. xavier loved.

xavier loved, no, loves, so fervently, so profoundly, that he killed the backtrackers who had tried to harm you. you are not the same incarnation that he loved back in philos, but the fact that it's you is enough for xavier to rid all doubts.

and jeremiah thinks that, despite xavier's desperate intent to return back to philos, he wouldn't mind living here on earth with you now. jeremiah has noticed that the fervent expression his captain once wore has dwindled into something more mellow, into something tender.

something like the looks he'd send to you from afar, chasing you across school rooftops and coexisting in between the clashing of blades—xavier loves.

and love has made him content. and love has made him present, when he never was before. when all he could do, prior to your incarnation's existence, was think of returning to philos.

(how could he return to philos when you're right here?)

"[name]," jeremiah calls, feigning ignorance to the way xavier glares at him, the captain's tender expression suddenly dissipating into nothingness. ouch, jeremiah thinks, mouthing to xavier, "you don't have to make it that obvious you don't like me."

"yeah?" you reply, glancing up from the foliage. xavier reaches over the many shelves of flora—much to jeremiah's dismay—before parting them to get a good look at your face. xavier smiles. jeremiah's jaw drops.

"did you find something you liked? you said you had to get a bouquet for a friend, right?" jeremiah asks, egging xavier on.

"a friend?" xavier echoes, not even bothering to look at the florista behind him.

"oh, yeah! i'm choosing a bouquet for this one guy—" jeremiah sees the way xavier's expression goes blank, lips thinning into a line whilst his periwinkle eyes, somehow, manage to retain their enamored look.

ah, jeremiah realizes, it's 'cause captain is still looking at them. of course it is—why did he expect any other reason?

although xavier remains silent, jeremiah knows that the only thing running through the captain's mind is: guy, guy, guy?!

"a guy?" jeremiah queries, deciding to put xavier out of his misery.

"yeah. he worked with my grandma when she was younger, but i have to deliver it through one of my friends because he lives in the arctic..."

"that means he's old," jeremiah whispers, loud enough for only xavier to hear. the captain glances away.

at least try to hide that look of relief, jeremiah thinks incredulously. still, it's fun to see xavier like this: with his tense brows easing up, his thinned lips turning slightly upwards. when xavier loves, he does it with his whole being.

it's in the way he slips in between the aisles of flora in order to be next to you. in the way he carries the vases of flowers for you despite knowing you're perfectly capable of doing so yourself.

when xavier loves, it's evident in the way his cold, indigo eyes melt into hues made of periwinkle. it's in the way his touch, hardened by years of training, melts into something as light as a feather. it grazes past your face, brushing a stray leaf away.

"how much will it be, jeremiah?" you ask, preparing your coin pouch. jeremiah feels xavier's glare piercing his skin.

i know, i know! is all jeremiah thinks. "for free. don't worry about it!"

"huh? that can't be right... these are a lot of flowers, jeremiah."

"it's okay, [name]," xavier interjects, resting a hand over yours to prevent you from getting your money. "he owes me a favor, and i never buy flowers. so it's best used for your bouquet."

again, xavier lies fluidly through his teeth.

"are you sure...? you could buy a couple flowers, xavier! you know, to decorate your room?"

xavier shakes his head. "i'd forget to water them, probably."

liar, jeremiah thinks. for his own safety, he opts to keep his mouth shut, observing the situation with a suppressed smile.

xavier can't even be bothered to hide his infatuation—when he does so much as look at you, his world comes to a halt, his attention fixated wholly on you when usually it drifts off into wonderland.

when he does so much as hear you, or perceive you, or exist with you, xavier shrinks into nothing, permeating wholly into your skin, melting into your bones and becoming a part of you.

forget his title as captain, or lumiere, or crown prince—xavier becomes yours. and that's all he needs to be.

somehow, jeremiah thinks that xavier is more than just a lover.

he's love itself.

rafayel taps his foot impatiently. with his arms crossed, his gaze darts back and forth between the clock and the door, brows furrowing once he realizes you're nowhere to be seen.

"ugh, that bodyguard!" he cries to no one. "always making me wait for this and that.... puh-lease, like i care!"

rafayel turns around and starts heading into the art museum, lips curled into a pout whilst he glances occasionally over his shoulder. eventually, he stops, still trying to discreetly scope out the premises.

they're still not here?! is all he thinks, reaching for his phone with newfound passion. rafayel tries calling you a couple times, somehow getting more and more offended when you don't pick up.

he then resorts to spamming your texts, his phone flailing around in his hands from the onslaught of his madness.

"you think this is just a game, huh?!" rafayel texts. "fine, it is! whatever! not like i care!!!!"

when you don't respond, he blinks owlishly in disbelief, staring at the screen with his mouth hanging agape.

no way they ignored me! rafayel thinks, somehow even more offended than before.

but the irritation nestled in his stomach morphs into worry, and the worry contorts into yearning. oh, rafayel thinks, staring at your contact name for far longer than he'd like to admit. what if something happened to them?

rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. what if you're waiting for him somewhere—with nothing but him on your mind, of course—tears spilling from your eyes while crying his name? what if you're injured, clutching your wound whilst thinking of him—and his killer looks—wishing you could see him right now?

oh. rafayel's imagination eggs his yearning further. oh, what if they're injured? he thinks, his fingers beginning to glide all across his phone's keyboard, spamming you like a madman whose lost all sense of reason.

"you don't have to show up," he starts texting, but quickly deletes that sentence. "text me when you see this," he manages to send, hand coming up to fiddle with some stray strands of his wisteria hair.

he feels his heart thrash against his chest like a fish out of water, his skin beginning to feel stuffy while he grasps at his shirt, crumpling the pearl fabric under his hands. what if you're hurt? what if something happened to you? what if you're leaving, and he isn't able to catch up?

rafayel hates waiting. he turns around, heading toward the exit of the museum, ignoring the looks of confusion from the people who just watched him enter and clutch his head manically.

again, rafayel's imagination runs wild, feeding him delusions and convincing him that he's your knight in shining armor, saving you from the clutches of despair. obviously, after he saves you—with his killer looks and killer moves—you're going to grovel at his feet and beg for forgiveness, hoping that he'll spare you so much as a glance for your impudence.

he tries to ignore the way his ribs begin to constrict, the way his chest begins to ignite with agonizing pain. not again, is all he thinks, rushing out of the museum. not again.

rafayel loves you. sometimes, he hates to admit it. sometimes, he knows it's fact. rafayel loves you—how could he not? you are bound to him, no, rather, he is bound to you.

rafayel is bound to you, yet even then, he struggles to keep up. he follows you hopelessly into every incarnation, trailing after your existence like a drowning man at sea, gasping for air and a wisp of your presence. he had you, once. and what a twisted thing love is, to give him so much hope and radiance, that he can't possibly fathom to live without it now.

rafayel is hooked on you, drinking you in greedily with his eyes, searching for you desperately amidst the tides. rafayel is hooked on you, he's left in a constant state of wanting more, more, more, even though you don't feel the same. even though you're perfectly okay with leaving him, oblivious to the effect you have.

you have carved rafayel's being, forcing his hands to be a perfect fit with yours, forcing his eyes to only ever hold you. you've dismembered rafayel's bones, taking apart the shafts and forcing yourself in, your existence running through his marrow, your existence running through his veins.

sometimes, rafayel hates what you've done to him. he hates how he's reduced to a spectator in your presence, the way he's destined to love you despite all you've done to him.

rafayel hates the way you go around, saving everyone, saving everything, even though he was the first. he was your first victim, your first lover, your first everything.

and you've forgotten. and you've forgotten. how could you? sometimes, rafayel envies you. he wishes he could be as blissfully ignorant as you, he wishes he could rendezvous around the world, unaware of what he's done before.

(how could he? how could he ever forget you? how could rafayel ever be anything more than what you've made him?)

he laughs bitterly to himself, running a hand through his hair when your caller id shows up on his phone. rafayel half-considers letting you go to his voicemail, but oh, the way his heart constricts, the way his hands instinctively move to answer.

rafayel isn't like you—he has a heart, first of all—he's made of memories, made of century-old pacts and vows that have haunted him across lifetimes.

rafayel isn't like you, because, first and foremost, he loves. he loves you. he loves you! and oh, how could he not? how could he ever forget what you've done for him? how could he ever forget what you've done to him?

(and yet, he loves you anyway. rafayel loves you, despite the way you betrayed him, despite the way you forgot. rafayel loves you, not only because he was made to love you, but because it's you. does he need any other reason?)

just before your call gets forwarded to voicemail, rafayel picks up. he swallows thickly, letting his yearning drip down his throat, permeating into his organs whilst he says, dreading the way his voice cracks, ever so slightly, "ahem. what took you so long, huh?!"

your voice glitches on the other end. rafayel feels heat rush to the tips of his ears, feeling the way you sound so close to him. he presses the phone closer to his head.

"sorry, rafayel! i was busy,"—rafayel scoffs at this, so is he, you're not special—"but i'm coming right now! just wait for me, okay?"

"ugh! no, i don't wanna! i'm leaving! did you hear that? i'm," rafayel trails off, pausing for extra emphasis (hoping that you'd care enough to interrupt him), "i'm leaaavvii—"

you hang up. rafayel gasps, staring at the end screen with a flabbergasted look.

"no way! ugh! nobody respects me around here! making me wait... who do they think i am? a waiter? the waiter?" rafayel mutters incredulously to himself, sending glares towards anyone who eyes him weirdly.

still, he remains put, crossing his arms with a pronounced frown whilst sunset eyes scan the area, looking for your familiar motorbike.

rafayel waits. begrudgingly.

then again, he supposes he does a lot of that when it comes to you.

he opens your contact one more time. "some bodyguard you are!!!" he texts. "i could be dying right now and you still wouldn't pull up, huh?!?!"

"i'm dying! i'm dying! heeeelllooo?! i'm dying!" he spams. the familiar whirring of a motorbike appears, and rafayel glances up from his phone, horizon eyes growing wide.

rafayel hates the effect you have on him, the way your sudden appearance can bring tsunamis to a lull, the way your sudden appearance makes an utter fool of him.

still, rafayel lets you get away with it.

(you've gotten away with a lot of things.)

"raf!" you call. "quit spamming me!"

when you take your helmet off, rafayel's breath hitches. you steal the oxygen from his lungs, a mere wisp of your existence making the world tumble.

"hmph!" he crosses his arms, hoping you don't see the way his ears bloom a violent red. "don't tell me what to do! do you know how long it's been?!"

"ten minutes?" you reply, unamused. rafayel glares at you.

too long, he thinks, eyes tracing over the bridge of your nose and the curl of your lips. the artist instinct with him begins to flare—he wants to paint, he wants to devote himself to you all over again, drawing tirelessly into the night.

"no. eight-hundred years, you idiot!"

you roll your eyes. "what an exaggeration."

rafayel huffs. "puh-lease! i just say it as it is!"

you start heading towards the museum, and rafayel scrambles to catch up, his throat beginning to close. his heart—whatever's left of it, at least—lurching forward.

it chases you. it chases you! it always, always chases you.

into every life, into every eon. rafayel chases you, desperate and made of memories, hanging onto the depths of your soul, forfeiting the ocean and the tide and all that ever mattered.

then again, rafayel supposes that none of it matters now. you're here.

and even if you don't remember, rafayel will love you anyway.

(how could he not?)

[lunachy]

New IS 6★ Supporter: Raidian

Summoner Supporter

Illustrator: aZLing4

Trait: Deals arts damage. Can use summons in battle.

Talent 1: Can use up to X Summons. Summons' effect changes based upon Skill.

Talent 2: Raidian's summons gives a percentage bonus of her own atk, def and hp to the summons.

S1: Rhythm Line

Summons go on melee tiles.

Active effect: Self and summons gain 80% DEF and barrier equal to 100% max HP, lasting until skill ends.

Gain 1 summon when activated.

25 SP, 25 sec duration.

(60% DEF and 70% barrier at skill level 7, 30SP for 25 second duration)

S2: Circular Scale

Summons go on melee tiles and fire bullets forward. (Summons have a normal attack range of their tile and three more ahead of that in a straight line. They deal physical damage to the first ground enemy the bullets collide with. They have 2 block it seems)

Active effect: Self and summons gain 80% ATK, summons fire two extra bullets and travel for 2 extra tiles.

Gain 1 summon when activated.

25 SP, 25 sec duration

(50% ATK at skill level 7, 30SP for 25 second duration)

S3: Holding Hands

Summons go on ranged tiles. When there is no enemy within a summon's attack range, it will coordinate with other summons within its range to attack enemies within the other summon's attack range. (They deal arts damage. Core caster range. Effectively they merge their attack ranges together as long as they're placed within each other's attack range)

Active effect: Self and summon gain 150% ATK, and inflict Slow and 35% arts fragile for 2 seconds.

Gain 1 summon when activated.

30 sec duration.

MTL Weibo Introduction:

"According to Amiya's authorization, I will follow your command directly from now on, Doctor. I am mainly responsible for communication and intelligence processing. Of course, if you have any problems with life management, you can also come to me."

____________

"Miss Raidian, that..."

"Ah, is it Rosemontis again..."

"Yes, I'm sorry to bother you... We really have no choice but to come to you..."

The medical operator walked in front, and Raidian followed behind. The distance was appropriate, the pace was the same, and the two footsteps overlapped. Crossing the corridor, turning left three times, and taking the elevator, the deepest part of the rehabilitation ward area of the medical department, a wide and bright room was waiting there. Several baskets of colorful wool balls were abruptly piled at the door.

"So, this treatment is very effective for her?"

"Yes, Rosemontis is always more relaxed when facing colorful yarn, and we are also trying our best to let her enjoy it, but if she is not careful..."

"Hehe, it's just that Rosemontis will be entangled in the yarn and can't be untied at all?"

"We tried to solve it with scissors, but she seems to be very resistant to this, so we can only trouble you..."

"Little Tree" gently patted the medical operator's shoulder, and "Little Axle" turned the door handle. The little girl in the door twitched her ears, and her attention was still focused on fiddling with the yarn.

"For her, clarifying herself has always been an important issue.

"There are many things in this world that are chaotic, such as electrical signals, words, emotions, and even balls of yarn...

"What's important is not the sharp cut, not to cut it off and then throw it away, but to use your own hands to untie the knots and organize them in order. Violent solutions often leave ruins. Many times, they just need to return to what they should be."

Raidian retracted his hand, and "Little Tree" and "Little Axle" playfully made a gesture of spreading their hands.

"From this point of view, I have four hands, which does have certain advantages."

IS Specifics for Raidian

There is a lot of intricacies in how she grows from and plays in IS6:

(Quoted from u/IbbleBibble)

In battle, her summons get the following effects in order every time a new floor is reached:

summons cost less DP

more summons can be deployed at the same time

summon ASPD increases

summons no longer take deployment slots

In exploration:

higher spare recruitment ticket limit

increases shields when recruited

gives more candlelight when exploring the Bosky

reveals a random node in the Bosky

costs less hope than other 6*s (not mentioned here but it's based on the preview video)

Her IS6-specific module:

summon redeployment time lowered

summons give Raidian some SP when defeated/retreated

+5 summon limit

25% chance of recovering summon when it's defeated/retreated

[hbheavensent]

Asmodeus/Fizz

Teehee my blue boy and my second favorite clown :33 My thoughts/reasons for changes below the cut!

I'll start with Ozzie first because I don't even really mind his original design, I just dislike his head looking bug-like and sorta awkward. I DID love his drag fashion style so I wanted to keep most of that. I also wanted to limit his colors a bit to give his look a touch more focus.

In regards to his outfit I wanted to play into a bondage sort of aesthetic with the ribbons. I imagine they shoot out to grab people while also constraining him, adding in some body horror to the whole thing. I was also thinking that he is affectively blind which is apart of his punishment after falling from grace for trying to consort with Raphael repeatedly. He is the fifth to fall just after Mammon does. Something I also want to change is how Succubi come about, rather than being made by Ozzie like how Satan made the Imps, Succubi are a product of his ring and humans becoming more and more lustful. They spawn in at first as opposed to being made and are unable to carry children but can breed with others as long as they carry the child. No "Pure Succubi" has blood related parents. Succubi I also think have a slightly longer lifespan of an average 150 years vs an Imp's 80 years, though they show no signs of aging until they die. Other than that, Lust is really similar to the show.

Ozzie in my version has the best intentions most of the time, his sin is the weakest because it impacts his and others day to day lives the least arguably. Ozzie at his worst is committing adultery and cheating but if he has a partner who is FINE with him being like that? It's no big deal. Not to mention a lot of people in Hell are sex positive, rarely is anyone clutching their pearls about these things. This sort of laxness is what gives Ozzie a skewed perception on the other Sins, sure he understands compulsions because he has them just as strongly but it's not actively ruining his quality of life like it would for Mammon or Belphegor. In this way it's caused a lot of friction between him and the other sins with the exception of Beelzebub, who they only hang out once in a blue moon since she's always busy. Ozzie is also one of the sins who very heavily interacts with the "lower class" of demons, seen as approachable but not in the same way Bee is. He for sure floats above things a bit but he's known to have relationships with just about anyone, often coming back home to just one person. This is where we get into his relationship to Fizz. They're not toxic by any means, Ozzie and him communicate well all things considered. Naturally they did meet through Mammon requesting the sex bots, because frankly Mammon does NOT want to handle any of that and knows Ozzie would.

Through multiple meetings and measurements Fizz/Ozzie started having flings which turned into a more stable relationship. Fizz doesn't mind that Ozzie messes with other people and the power dynamic between them rarely comes into play in their personal lives. Rather, the reason Fizz and Ozzie avoid public stuff is due to Fizz being uncomfortable with other people's observations about them. To Ozzie this is something he's experienced thousands of times. That's the thing though isn't it? Ozzie has had this kind of relationship with a mortal creature over and over again. He's a wonderful partner, supportive and kind- but in 60-80 years when Fizz gets old and dies? How long will it take for Ozzie to forget him? To forget the moments they had?

He's forgotten others, so.. what makes Fizz different?

He's not.

That's where their main conflict comes from, Fizz already feels insignificant unless he's performing and getting that external validation. So much of Fizz is wanting a legacy, wanting people to know him and look up to him. Fizz, at his core, is insecure unless he's in the limelight and peacocking or acting. To know that he is a blip in eons of time to Ozzie and someday that he won't matter to the person he loves most? That sucks. I want his arc to focus on that though admittedly I have some more writing to do there. For Fizz's new outfit I really just wanted to have him.. perform in his bosses colors. Because why would be represent Ozzie on Mammon's stage??? EVER??? Not that he can't have his cannon look/outfits since I borderline changed nothing and I like his design a lot :P

Anyway, here's the lineup as per usual! I'll be adding my four Angel OCs before moving to the Hazbin Hotel side of things :)

[misternibbs]

HI SORRY FOR NOT POSTING I'M NOT PICKING UP MY DIGITAL PEN FOR SOME REASON. loss of motivation unfortunately

anyways uhh wasn't going to post this on main but I kinda like them + we need more tiny man band content WHERE IS IT. I SEE ENCORE AND SCRAPYARD AND THEM BEING GAY AS BALLS ON TWITTER BUT WHERE'S MY TINY BAND. smh /lh

anyways this is going to be the most 2010s TV show cast ever cause I can't write for shit and community ruined me. probably the cringest I've ever been on main look away please

already posted some of this on the alt I know but FUCK YOU /silly

uhh meet The Tiny Man Band? under cut

------

oh btw they're gonna have shit names just as a reminder sotryyyy womp womp I can't name for shit this entire thing is going to be paper doodles and absolutely bad just. eugh

first off

bass (left) and uke (right)!! they're pretty chill with each other, best friends! bass does annoy uke to hell n fuckin back though but yeah they're silly. you know the dynamic straight laced guy with sillier guy shawn and gus core. uke tries to keeps bass on track while bass makes sure uke ain't too serious yanno? they're my favourite btw

next !

keys! he looks like he could kill a man any second and he decimates his keyboard cause he keeps slamming his foot on it but yeah. he's pretty chill though! funny silly guy just a bit intimidating. try on a smile for once in your life, jesus mate

okay we got beat next!

he's kinda in his own world just jamming n stuff usually. he hangs around keys and is the most like. classically trained of them? i think that's the word but yeah he actually handles a lot of the writing n works with voice a lot

oh speaking of voice

bitch. also goes by CJ because it's a chonny jash au he's legally obligated to do as such. he's really close with uke, constantly checking up on him n shit. he usually handles more of the business side of things with uke and yeah I don't have too many thoughts on him unfortunately. he doesn't get much sleep

ANYWAYS here's some misc. stuff

voice is up late one night uke tries to get him to come to bed. shit dialogue i drew this cause I was really bored okay?

oh uke's eyes are different? yeah he's normally stylized like a cartoon character with the glasses moving like eyes/eyebrows, as shown below

only when he takes them off is when he gets actual human eyes YEP IT'S THAT TROPE I TOLD YOU THIS IS VERY 2010s TV SHOW

he's so silly. i lobe him

here's him and uke talkin about stuff I think he's talking about voice or something man idk they're just. yeah. chillin

damn this is the only other photo I can post son of a fuck anyways these are the hands for all of them. bass and voice are right handed, uke and keys are left handed, while beat is ambidextrous.

all of them have the same polish on both hands, except for keys who has inverse colours on each hand

also the lighter colour on bass and keys' nails is white, however the lighter colour on beat's nails just shows that it isn't painted he doesn't. he doesn't paint his nails except for his thumbs for some reason MAN IDK

but yeah this is the end you can stop reading now I don't gaf if you like or repost I just wanted to show silly tiny man band stuff :3

digital stuff soon maybe hopefully ehh don't count on it. thanks for reading all of this btw it does mean a lot to me :-)

[advent-if]

DEMO TBA 🌑 CHARACTER INTROS (5/5)

A fine line separates civilians from saviours, saints from sinners; it was never a line you expected to cross, but one you did anyway. Now, the fate of Advent City’s clueless citizens or cunning criminals rests in your hands… best not to let it slip from your fingers, mm?

Thirteen years ago, your life changed. Thirteen years ago, you swore requital. Now, the opportunity has arisen for you to either defend the city from the dark or rid it from the rot spreading throughout its core. 

Now, it’s your turn.

Play as Advent City’s saviour, a daring vigilante here to protect those you love or ruin those you hate — the choice is up to you. Learn to inspire fear, earn respect, fall in love, or even become the greatest superhero this city has ever known.

ADVENT is rated 18+ for explicit language, violence, explicit sexual content, substance abuse, and more. It deals with heavy themes; discretion is advised.

Customise your character’s appearance, personality and intentions: are you a hero spurred by the desire to protect, or an anti-hero propelled by the promise of retribution? Does your alter-ego vastly differ from your day-to-day life, or is it an extension of your nature? Are you ruthless or compassionate, ingenious or Machiavellian, courageous or psychopathic?

Choose your origin story: were you a rich orphan à la Bruce Wayne or Tony Stark, a Regular Joe turned hero on being given powers by a mysterious force, or born with them for reasons you’re desperate to find?

Fight villains who threaten the safety of the city and its inhabitants, and maybe even a supervillain who happens to be your foil…

Romance 1 of 5 characters, each of whom come with their own hefty baggage, and have interesting(?) reactions to yours…

Manage your new life and all its nuances. Who said being a saviour was easy? Try to separate your old life from this new one by keeping your identity a secret, maintaining old relationships, forging new ones, keeping your loved ones safe, etc. etc… damn.

the Head of Police: Luis/Luz Aguilera (m/f): Stern, sexy, moody. Relentlessly hardworking and caring to the point of no return. They want to be the one to clean Advent City’s fucked up system, not for glory, but simply because it’s the right thing to do. Unfortunately for them, that also means putting up with your whole shebang… maybe try to keep the arguing to a minimum?

the Journalist: Vincent “Vinny” Jacobs (m): Cheeky, suave, opportunistic. Inordinately ambitious and impressively dedicated to their cause. He’d never miss an opportunity to investigate something deeper if it intrigued him enough. Unfortunately for you, he’s now focused solely on the up and coming vigilante stalking the streets. Uh oh.

the Childhood Friend: Arya Anand (m/f): Sweet, thoughtful, kind. Patient to a fault and excessively trusting. You guys knew each other really well, once upon a time. But now that they're back, years later, you’re not quite convinced by the “I’m okay”s and forced smiles they seem to be hiding under. Surely it has nothing to do with you, right?

the Other One: Nian (f): Unpredictable, flirty, mysterious. Fast to arrive and quick to disappear. She’s someone you meet often in your… line of work… and curiously, she’s always ready to help you. Behind her mask and catsuit is someone you suspect is dangerously similar to you. As long as you two have the same goal, it shouldn’t be a problem…

the Heir: Josephine/Joseph Bieri (f/m): Arrogant, cunning, brash. Annoyingly haughty and odiously elusive. They were an asshole when you first met five years ago, and seem to be an even bigger one now… worse, they’re in the way between you and taking down their Mafia kingpin dad. Although, getting close could give you an advantage - just try not to punch them.

reblogs are appreciated! thank you so much for your interest <3

[sabrondabrainrot]

Bring back LAES!

I'm steadily making progress on catching up on sun and moon show along with foxy and monty etc etc but it's pretty difficult when one of the main key plot lines is gone. I know a few spoilers thanks to fanfiction but I want to see the drama in person.

Here's some outfit ideas for tsams cause I'm a sucker for fashion and redesigns!

Order is, SolarFlare - Lunar - NewMoon - Old Moon - Sunny (Solar's dimension) - Sun

closeups and more brainrot under the cut!

Explaining my redesigns! Lunar - he's not really a redesign and more so an overdesign. I love adding tons of little details to him to really hammer home his star-ness. He's such an interesting little guy, like yes he acts childish but I can see he's really growing (SAD I CANT WATCH MORE CAUSE THE SHOW IS GONE). I saw the ep he killed Eclipse and homeboy revived. The entire time I was like "Waaahh Lunar??? Waaahhh???" but I love the drama ngl.

SolarFlare - Same as Lunar, not really a redesign I just drew him with no dirt. I really love his base design it's so neat it makes me think of like sci-fi concepts from the 80's. Something from fallout really. I think it's kind of funny Eclipse's aesthetics for SolarFlare when you compare him next to say Jack who Solar designed.

OldMoon - I just wanted to give him a sleek mad scientist cool guy suave vibe. I saw the more recent thumbnails of him with a turtle neck and idk that's just peak character design for me. I'm a simple woman put the dumb-dumb in a dark turtleneck. I want him to kind of look like the BadGuy TM (he's not actually) so he gets all edgy and hard edges and stuff.

NewMoon - I wanted to do a similar color scheme but instead he has lighter colors like more white incorporated into his fit. To give him the whole 'reborn' aesthetic. He's all like "old moon wore black well I wear white now I'm nothing like him so hah!" kinda thinking. I gave his cap a fur texture cause of that one ep he turned into a furry. I drew rounder stuff on him cause he's a big ol' softy sweety pie.

Sunny - Sunny is my headcanon of Sun from Solar's dimension. I think it's really interesting his default with no personality was theater performance and not say...doing daycare stuff? I feel like honoring the FNAF books with this design by leaning heavily into the theater performer look. I like to think in Solar's dimension Sun and Moon were originally made for theater. (so far in the show I've noticed Creator says 'they needed a daycare attendant' something like that so it comes off more like they were intended for the daycare from the start VS. Solar's dimension where Sunny's core seems to be more so for the performing arts.) I also wanted to make Sunny look different from Sun for the extra angst potential of "They're similar but not the same" so I leaned more into a blue palette for him.

Sun - I just wanted to give him big puffy everything. I took away the tutu. nothing against the tutu I just hate drawing the damn thing. I like to think Sun in main has white eyes because he's so burnt out from within. *badum tish* (eyes are the window to the soul-) I also covered him in stickers because he totally would just be covered in stickers from the kids. I also decided to give some of his rays cracks because I think he's extremely sentimental and even in a newly upgraded body (after using star power to defeat Eclipse the first time) he'd keep rays from his original body? I also put the cracks ones on the side of his face where Old Moon hit him. Why? Because it just seems like something Sun would do. I love him so.

Ok just some brainrot stuff, look away to avoid spoilers .

RUIN DESTROYED HOW MANY DIMENSIONS?? SOLARS DEAD. LUNAR KILLED ECLIPSE. DARK SUN IS PLOTTING??? MOON BE CRYING??? Also Francine just had a birthday! ONE OF THE BLOODMOON BOYS ARE DEAD AND SAME WITH ONE OF THE STITCHY BOYS??? HELLO?!?

I love the drama.

Also, I love how every single kid vibe checks Sun and he passes every time. Francine? She loves Sun and learns from him. FC? He ONLY feels safe with Sun for a bit. Barry? He hugged Sun after gonad checking him (a right of passage for the bunny kid). Jack? I'm pretty sure he literally is just one room away from Sun at all times (he also calls Sun's cats his master???). I have yet to see Dazzle, but Dazzle 10000% loves Sun (I've seen the edits).

ALSO? When Lunar was first brought into the family the first person he hugged was Sun and then later on when Earth was in danger he ran into SUN's arms for safety/comfort. They're family your honor.

Sobbing and Crying laying on the floor over Solar's death but I think he'll be back.

Also the molten thing with Ruin? I'm excited to see more.

I don't have a youtube account to post about saving LAES but if anyone wants me to draw more LAES just to help the community please let me know. I'm planning to draw my idea of Earth next.

[altocat]

Au where Genesis doesn't start dying until he's 30. Would an extra five years before crisis core change things?

By then, things have changed for the trio. Angeal's been slowly working on settling down AWAY from Shinra, eventually heading back home to Banora for a prolonged sabbatical. He visits Midgar frequently. But he's tired of constant politics and bloodshed, seeking a well-earned rest.

Sephiroth is seeking permanent retirement, but is still forced to fight, the alternative being that Shinra sets him up with a politically designated "mate" in hopes of turning him into a family man, no doubt recruiting the next generation of soldiers. Sephiroth is miserable, growing increasingly dependent on sedatives and antidepressants to get by, pining for Angeal and Genesis, constantly sent off to war because the battlefield away from home is easier than the figurative one in Midgar.

Genesis has risen in the ranks over the years, finally accumulating more and more of an influence thanks to his mounting popularity. Because Sephiroth is growing increasingly more unreliable and moody, he steps up as one of the most prominent faces of the SOLDIER program. He and Sephiroth see each other frequently, but Sephiroth's depression coupled with Gen's increasingly busy schedule is gradually causing them to drift apart. Genesis mostly participates in speaking engagements and gala events, trying to ignore Sephiroth morosely watching him from across the room, Hojo's gnarled hand slithering possessively across his shoulder.

When Genesis gets sick, it's something of a shock to the system for everyone. It comes too quickly for them to process, brought on not by a playful spar between friends but a sudden fall during a crowded press tour. Angeal flies in to see him right away. Sephiroth never leaves his bedside. But Genesis, deteriorating at a rapid rate, can barely process what's going on. Or why Hollander keeps shooing his friends away. It isn't until weeks later that he finally learns the truth. But this time...things are a bit more complicated. Turns out the sickness was always festering inside him for years, just without physical symptoms up till now. He doesn't have much time left. And at the rate he's degrading, there's not much he could physically do now even if he wanted to. He's too exhausted, too tired to be angry, strangely hollow inside.

Turns out, game is fleeting. He'd achieved his dream of glory and popularity. But Shinra seemed to abandon him completely once he finally fell apart. And why not? They're responsible. THEY ruined his life. If he were just a bit stronger, he'd have killed them for it. Destroyed their entire legacy cinder by bloody cinder.

...he supposes he could tell Sephiroth and Angeal. They have a right to know. This concerns them, too.

....

......

.........

He ultimately decides against it. Not when they're looking at him like that, not when they've forced their way through those cold clinic doors just to see him. He's all but lifeless when Angeal leans down to scoop him up in his arms, cradling him against a warm chest. Sephiroth is pressed so close, wedging Genesis between them, trembling violently. No. He could never tell them. Not now. After all...in the end, they were different. They came. They stayed. They...remained.

His comrades.

His companions.

His dearest, invaluable, irreplaceable friends.

Angeal brings Genesis back to Banora to live out what remains of his final days in peace. Sephiroth is forced to remain in Midgar under penalty of permanent incarceration.

He receives the letter from Angeal a few months later.

He is never quite the same again.

[that-tmr-girl]

Let Them Watch

Minho couldn't care less if all eyes are on you.

832 Words

Public fingering

Greenie night was more than alive. To be fair, it is every time. There are many things to celebrate here. When life's the same routine everyday, it starts to weigh on you. It grows heavy and boring, like the world doesn't have color.

Now it's painted with the oranges and yellows of flames and strange gold if Gally's drink. There's bright smiles all around and eyes that have grown from lost and confused to laid back and alright.

Nothing will ever beat these nights. Nothing.

“What's on your mind over there?”

I looked over at Minho, giving him a shrug as an answer. I love him and sharing my thoughts, but sometimes they're more peaceful in my head. Saying it aloud may jinx it, and I really can't risk that. Not here. Not on this.

“Didn't know you were keeping secrets now,”He remarked.

“There's no secrets,”I promised,rolling my eyes at him.

“Well, the world has some secrets,”He deadpanned, pulling the blanket around our legs again. Seeing as it was only getting colder, goosebumps traveling up my arms, I didn't mind.

“You have such a smart mouth,”I sighed, propping myself back as I gazed out at everything. Instead of doing the same, taking in the view, he leaned closer, his head rested on my shoulder. I stayed still, waiting for him to pull me close like usual.

“You love my mouth though, don't you?”He whispered in my ear, making me freeze. Seemingly unbothered by my reaction, but since it’s Minho actually just enjoying it, he trailed his hand up my thigh. Finding the ability to move, I scanned the group of boys around us, some closer than others.

“Minho, we-”

“And my fingers too,”He kept going, placing his hand over my clothed pussy as he grinded his palm against me, making me squirm against my will. “See? Like that?”

“We could-we could get caught,”I whispered. Not that it helped the grin crossing my lips or the wetness dripping in my panties. Not that it stopped me from unzipping my pants and grabbing his hand, starting to lead him inside.

“That is a possibility,”He said matter-of-factly.

Glancing around, when I confirmed nobody was concentrated on us, I slightly lifted myself to pull my pants down to my knees. Raising his eyebrow at me, he gave me a small smirk before reaching inside of my panties.

Knowing I had to be careful, I leaned my head back and closed my eyes as though I was just taking in the atmosphere and not Minho’s hand inside my cunt.

Running his fingers along my slit, he toyed with me. He was almost at my entrance, so close to being inside of me. So close but still being a dick by not giving it to me.

“Minho,”I hissed.

“Yeah? Something wrong, baby?”

“Don't tease-”

“Hey! Found you shanks!”

I quickly raised my head at the voices that weren't supposed to be joining us tonight. Especially not now. Taking advantage of my shock, he plunged his finger inside of me, making my eyes clench shut before I remembered Jeff, Winston, and Fry were right there.

“Yeah. You all gonna take a seat?”

I shot Minho a scolding look only for him to start rubbing circles on my clit, making me drop my head as I gritted my teeth. Fuck, why do I let him do this to me? Why do I let him ruin me like this?

As he thrust another finger into me and started pumping, I got my answer. Biting down on my lip, I did my best to both not acknowledge anyone else's presence and turn invisible. It's just Minho, I, and his fingers pleasuring me.

I tuned out their talking as I gripped the blanket, keeping myself covered. Increasing his pace inside of me, he curled his fingers, bringing a knot to my core. He was reaching everywhere he could, his thumb rubbing faster circles against my clit.

“Y/N?”

“Wh-what?”I sputtered. As he repeated his question, Minho grinded his palm against my clit, covering all of my pussy. His pace was ruthless now, almost inhumane. My hips thrust up into him as I clenched the blanket into my fists, feeling myself grow closer.

“She's fine. Just tired,”Minho covered, reaching over to grab my thigh with his free hand, keeping me on the ground. A whimper finally left me as I was riding his hand anyway.

“Fell today,”I covered, pretending not to notice my voice being more breathy as I clenched around him. Looking over at him since I knew I wouldn't be able to control my face, I let my eyes roll back to my head as I released, spilling down his hand and into my once clean panties. The pressure I thought would never leave subsided, leaving me in a numb heaven as I let my senses remain gone for a little bit, stretching out the high from absolutely everything.