#and showing their peacock like back pieces...

[parasitic-saint]

showgirl's break (wip)

[dragonsholygrail]

having thoughts about the bird hybrids building us a nest and fucking us in it

Now that you were living with the all male bird hybrid colony, they knew that you needed a proper nest. Your fully human body couldn’t handle the rough textures of branches, plastic, and other materials they found on their hunts.

No, you deserved only the best. The biggest and softest of nesting materials. Your gorgeous plump body could only rest on the most exquisite blankets and pillows. Anything less and they would shred it to pieces with a fierce ferocity. You needed the best humans had to offer.

They had minimal experience with the fully human populace outside of what they saw in passing and going to your dance classes. They much preferred to stay in purely hybrid spaces. But for you they would do anything and go anywhere.

Flying into the human city in a large group, the colony swoops down, peering through the windows of human homes. They were in awe seeing how comfortable all these humans lived with all these pillows and blankets on their couches, chairs, and beds. They even had weird little blankets on their tables.

The colony flew to every house they could that had an unlocked window. They’d swoop in, take all they need, and swoop back out. Sure, they knew it was wrong, but where else would they get such luxuries? They wouldn’t let something silly like human laws stop them.

Returning home they get set to work. Building you the finest nest anyone’s ever seen. It was far superior to other hybrids nests close by. The colony felt pride in how well they took care of you.

When setting up the reveal they turned it into this whole show, also wanting you to see how well they could take care of you as your new official mates. Your gasp of awe as you set your eyes on the huge pile of blankets and pillows has them preening, their features ruffling as they damn near start peacocking.

Hands are all over you in a way you’ve grown to find overwhelming pleasant as they guide you into the nest. They lay you down and you’re so busy looking around you barely notice as they slip your clothes off.

“Where did you guys get all of this?” You ask in your surprise, your mind only starting to let you feel a bit concerned as to what they could’ve gotten into now.

But there’s no need for questions, not when you all could be doing something so much better. They liked you all mindless and too dazed to even speak. They should definitely get started on that.

“Do you like it, mate? We should test it out first to make sure. If you don’t I’m sure the human wouldn’t mind getting their stuff back.”

You’re already so breathless as their hands roam over you, massaging your flesh in their hands, pinching at your nipples, and gliding through your soaked folds. But some of their words do manage to get through.

“Wha—“ you start before you’re effectively cut off by one of your mates sliding inside your hot cunt in one solid stroke.

You don’t know how many hours pass as your mates break in their new nest with you. Fucking into you with so much love and tenderness. This is your new home, the place for you to be with them always. As they have you squirming and writhing on each of their cocks your heart feels so full.

They brush and cover you in their feathers, forcing the most pleasant sensations over every inch of your soft and squishy body. They thrust their cocks as hard and as deep inside you as they can, wanting to reach a whole new level of connection with you, their precious mate.

All of the bird hybrids relish in each beautiful orgasm you give them, falling off the edge over and over, clenching down on their thick cocks as though you never wanna leave. And maybe you don’t. This nest and them with you inside of it is pure bliss.

By the time they’re done with you, you feel like you’re floating. They’re all cuddled around in a big pile, sated coos and tweets echo through the air. Even if they aren’t touching you at the moment you can feel each of them in your heart. Their warmth and their caress has your body humming wonderfully.

You suddenly don’t care where exactly they got these blankets and pillows from. All you know is that you wanna keep it.

[teaboot]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to get a tattoo but is *astronomically* indecisive?

When I was about to get my first tattoo, I was really worried about getting something I'd grow out of and learn to hate.

I think if that's your concern with a first tattoo, maybe get something that represents a good memory, or someone who's passed away, or a place you've been. Something you have positive associations with that aren't likely to change, so even if you eventually hate the art itself someday, the memories attached remain pleasant

Alternatively, just get something you think looks cool. Ideally not a trendy tattoo you've seen a lot of- my personal rule of thumb when I want to get something that's really popular is to wait a year. If I still want that peacock feather, or infinity symbol, or tribal pice a year from now, we'll come back to it.

Third, just browse artists in your area or in places you may end up and go through all their portfolios. Good way to do that is to search parlors in the area, make a list, then visit each one's website one by one. If you like a particular artist's style, check out their insta. Thay's how I got set up with my favourite tattoo! Sometimes you don't know what you want until you see it.

I have a couple tattoos that I'm kinda meh about, but they're more sentimental pieces than show pieces. I don't hate them or wish they were gone. They're part of me, right? Like a scar or a mole.

Essentially the best advice I can give is to just wait till you find something that speaks to you. Or just rip the figurative band-aid off and get something small and simple and meaningless that you think is cute! (After researching to make sure it isn't a hate symbol or something, of course. That shit is insidious.)

Also, look into getting a henna kit, or temporary tattoo pens, or even just a sharpie marker and doodling on yourself to see how you feel about it short-term.

Hope I could help?

[meggtheegg]

FNAF Movie Theory...

I'm pretty sure there's still one major plot twist in the universe of the movie that's been set up for a sequel but hasn't actually happened yet. Heavy spoilers under the cut:

After watching the movie in theaters and then revisiting a few scenes on Peacock, I'm still kind of convinced that Mike Schmidt is Michael Afton.

Here's my reasoning. A lot of the characters spend time acting like they know something the audience/other characters don't, and those things are...mostly resolved. But some of them just...kind of aren't.

The main thing that sticks out to me is William's whole storyline. Starting with the scene where he offers Mike the job, his behavior is almost explained by the movie's logic. He sees Mike's name, seems...kind of deeply upset, looks at him very closely, stands to get coffee, and has a moment of visible internal conflict. Then he instantly offers him the Freddy's job. The way the movie frames this, it seems to be saying that he recognized the name of one of his victims, realized this was the kid's brother, and decided to kill him right then and there. Which is passable as an explanation, but it has a lot of holes, if you look deeper.

Why would William so instantly recognize a fairly common last name as the brother of some kid he killed that wasn't even anywhere near Freddy's? Why did he kidnap/kill Garrett in the first place, in some random forest in Nebraska? Why did he see the name on the file, then immediately stop and examine Mike's face so closely, when Mike's memories/dreams pretty clearly show that they never saw each others' faces when Garrett was taken? Why did he send Vanessa to "keep Mike in the dark" if he purposely gave him the job to get him killed? Why not have the animatronics kill him right away? He didn't know that Mike was searching for the man who took his brother, and while he could have maybe guessed he was still actively haunted by what happened based on Mike beating up a guy that he thought was kidnapping someone, it still feels like a weird choice to go and hire him, then just have him do the job with no issue for a few days.

As for Vanessa, we see that she's been cleaning up William's messes for years. Why is Mike the one she changes her mind and stands up to her father for? There's no implied romance between the two and no particularly meaningful connection beyond them both having family issues. I guess she cares about Abby because she's a kid, but kids getting hurt clearly never stopped her from helping her father before.

And, on a more meta level, this is Scott and his storytelling style we're talking about. The man puts plot twists inside of plot twists and everything always ties back into the Aftons, somehow.

So, here's my theory: I think that Mike is William's kid, but Mike's mom left Afton when he was young and remarried the man that Mike thinks is his father.

It seems convoluted and maybe cliche, but if it's true, then suddenly there's an answer to all of those questions. "Michael Schmidt" isn't exactly an eye-catching name, unless you had a kid named Michael and your ex-wife married a guy with the last name Schmidt. Garrett's kidnapping, then, becomes an act of intentional, petty revenge rather than an extremely random coincidence. Giving Mike the job and sending in Vanessa suddenly becomes about piecing together how much he knows and figuring out if he's worth trying to reconnect with or is just a threat that needs to be killed. (It feels worth noting that William is as far as I can remember the only person to call him Michael in the whole film. He also very pointedly never says "Schmidt" until he's decided to kill Mike and suddenly announces his full name out loud. If he went by Michael as a little kid, that is what William would default to calling him, but if he took the new husband's last name, that would be like like salt in the wound that he wouldn't want to voice. By finally saying it out loud, it feels like he's making the decision to fully separate himself from Mike.)

As for Vanessa, if Mike is her brother, it makes sense that he would be the person she'd turn against William to save. It would be weird for her not to tell him, but she could also be trying to protect him, in some way. There's never any mention of her mother, and it seems like it's just been her and William for a long time. Also, ending the movie with her in a coma feels like a strange narrative choice, but it makes sense if she knows information that's purposely being kept hidden for the sequel.

Of course, it could just be that the movie has kind of messy writing and I'm trying to fix it because I want there to be a deeper reason for it. Maybe there is no Michael Afton in the movies, or maybe he's off chilling and doing his own thing somewhere and we'll see him in the sequel. Only time will tell.

[slttygeto]

MORE THAN THAT— LO’AK SULLY.

pairing: x fem! reader.

tags: childhood friends to lovers, a little bit of angst towards the middle, insecure lo’ak, reader is mad at him, lack of communication because i love pain, they’re both 18 during the second half! a little suggestive towards the end, this is a long one btw :].

word count: 7k (my longest fic!!!)

note: ive been writing this for about a month (on and off obviously) and i thought i might share it now that i finally decided where to end it (?), it’s not entirely proof-read, my amazing best friend @aurelianamu (check her neteyam piece its amazing) read some of it and told me what to fix, so the rest will be corrected along the way. thank you for reading!

dividers by: @firefly-graphics

You are ten when you first meet the Sully’s, family of Toruk and Palulukan Makto.

Being the newest friend of Kiri, the second oldest didn’t hesitate to introduce you to her family, proud of the fact that she managed to make a friend so easily. You were shy, closed off and unsure of how to behave in the presence of the man that your parents told you many stories about. Your little child brain was curious to know as to how he behaved with his family, if he would be nice to you or strict and harsh, even if he had no reason to show anything besides kindness to his daughter’s newest friend.

“She is the same age as Lo’ak,” Kiri exclaimed with lots of excitement, holding your hand tightly while standing in front of her parents.

“Is that so?” Kiri’s mother, Neytiri, spoke with a gentle tone, smile adorning her lips which was unusual since she always seemed to be sporting a serious look on her face around The People.

“Who is the same age as me?” A voice spoke from behind you and suddenly, you were very aware of the fact that Kiri had more siblings than you—in fact, you had none. So you jumped slightly, a little surprised by the proximity of the boy.

“(Name), my friend!” Kiri’s excitement while introducing you warmed your heart but it also made you hyperaware of the looks you were receiving even if they weren’t malicious.

“Your friend?” Lo’ak stated in question, eyes scanning your face before puffing his chest out proudly like a peacock. “I bet being my friend would be more fun!”

Now, you weren’t expecting that. Kiri let go of your hand to push her brother back, almost telling him off at his attempt at stealing you away from her and you could only watch in horror as the bickering turned into hair pulling.

“Hi, I’m Neteyam.” Neteyam’s voice was soft and gentle, very similar to his mother’s and it made you relax for a moment before you realized you had to introduce yourself as well. Yet before you could speak, he was cutting you off with a nod. “(Name), I heard Kiri introduce you.”

You nodded back at him, eyes falling on the scene unraveling before you; Lo’ak and Kiri being scolded heavily by Toruk Makto himself, his eyes warning them that if they tried to say one more word, they would get grounded for a whole month.

“Ma Jake, be nice. We have a guest.” Neytiri tried to console.

“Exactly, so they should learn how to behave,” Jake Sully grabbed his kids and made them stand in front of you. “It’s up to her if she wants to befriend either of you, okay?”

“But dad! I found her first!” Kiri’s bottom lip quivered and you stepped towards her with a look of concern.

“Kiri, you’re my friend.” Lo’ak huffed at this, head dramatically turning to the side making his hair move with him. “Lo’ak can also be my friend.” Said boy’s ears perked up at this, face slowly turning to face you while scanning for any possible clues that you were just kidding.

Jake smiled at this, hand resting on top of your head before ruffling your hair. “Yeah? You wouldn’t mind befriending this knucklehead?”

“Knucklehead?” Your confusion only added to the fun of it and Jake chuckled before standing up straight.

“It means he needs someone to look out for him at all times.”

“Dad!” Lo’ak whined at the statement yet you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

“Friends look out for each other, right?” Your question earned a nod of approval from Toruk Makto and that was all you needed before stepping forward, firmly holding Lo’ak’s hand in your own.

“Lo’ak and I are friends then.” The youngest boy stared at you in awe, feeling the tips of his ears warm up at the sincerity of your voice.

“Friends.”

You are twelve when you learn what a pinky promise is.

You loved hanging out with Kiri, yet she and the rest of her family couldn’t deny the obvious chemistry between you and Lo’ak.

Despite the youngster’s stubborn personality and disobedient nature, he became more tolerable around you. That didn’t mean that he stopped from causing trouble, but he was seen around you sharing toys, passing you bits of food that was handed to him by his mother and even went as far as to to grab a giant leaf from a tree to cover you when you curled yourself into a ball to sleep.

The same could be said about you, yet your personality was never a problem in the first place. Kiri knew you as the kind hearted young na’vi that you presented yourself to be and you didn’t change around any of her family members. Although, she was able to notice the way you let things slide for the sake of being close to Lo’ak, such as letting him near your personal space, allowing him to touch your hair and look at the beads while proudly showing off your mother’s choice of colors and even letting him redo one of your braids as you two sat in silence.

Kiri wanted to feel jealous of this, she did befriend you first but she couldn’t help but let her heart feel at ease. Her brother and closest friend got along and it was worth more than anything in the world.

“Lo’ak, aren’t all sky people bad?” you were currently in the middle of your play session with the young na’vi, and the latter halted his actions at your words to stare at you with furrowed eyebrows. He noticed your stare, how it lingered on Spider, their human companion for as long as they could remember, before returning his eyes back on you.

“My dad was once a sky person, he isn’t bad at all.”

“Your dad is Toruk Makto!” you exclaimed almost in disbelief at the fact that Lo’ak was insinuating that you were even thinking of lumping his dad with those terrible people who had once destroyed your home.

“I’m just saying, if my dad is nice and he once was a sky person, then it means there’s a chance good sky people exist.” Lo’ak answered with a shrug. He trusted easily, that was something you envied him for. You couldn’t shake off the uneasy feeling whenever you stared at Spider and a part of you felt bad that your brain didn’t allow you to relax in the presence of a boy who had done nothing to you, his only crime was to belong to a race that caused you great pain and suffering.

“It could be true…” Your friend was able to sense your anxiety just by looking at your body shrink in its spot, your arms hugging your knees closer to your chest before resting your head there. He might’ve not been the softest out of his siblings, but he knew that you needed comforting ; any kind that is.

“Hey listen,” Lo’ak put his toy down next to you before leaning down to your level with his pinky finger up. “I promise that I won’t ever let sky people do anything to you, okay? Pinky promise.”

Despite the feeling of warmth that you felt at his words, the obvious confusion on your face was a telltale sign that you didn’t know what a pinky promise was.

“Pinky… promise?” your voice came out soft, hesitant as you mirrored lo’ak’s actions and the moment he hooked both of your pinkies together, you felt your heart strings tug in your chest.

“Yes. A promise that is never meant to be broken.”

At your silence, Lo’ak realized that you had been staring at his hand. Hard.

Upon figuring out what was so fascinating about his hand that it silenced you, he immediately tried to pull it back on his lap, regretting a little the fact that he got too comfortable showing you his hand, his filthy demon hand.

“No,” you started with a stern look, grabbing his hand to pull back next to your face and held his pinky finger up with much concentration on your face.

“I don’t judge, I like your hands,” you hooked your pinky finger once again with his and Lo’ak wasn’t able to shake off the funny feeling in his chest, how his heart leapt as he nervously gulped down the lump in his throat.

“Pinky promise?” His voice came out as a whisper, almost in disbelief that you were accepting of who he was and who he came from. he did believe that his father was the exception to use as an example to justify good sky people existing.

“Pinky promise.”

Fourteen and fifteen were an easy age, you got along most of the time and everyone was scared when the both of you teamed up against them. Yet sixteen and seventeen had proven to you that you were both strong minded and that made you butt heads often, only in harmless ways.

You two are eighteen you realize that the bickering and butting heads was just a love language of yours, that your disagreements would never take away from how much you cared for each other.

“You have got to be one knucklehead to do something like that!” You hiss at the boy who could only stare back at you with an equally murderous glare, clearly disliking the vocabulary you were using.

“I am no knucklehead if I just wanted to have fun.” He hissed in return, and it quickly turned into a groan when your hands tugged harshly at the bandage circling his arm, sending him a warning that you weren’t going to let it slide easily just because he was wounded.

“Fun on the war zone? I didn’t know that playing with your life is the newest form of entertainment.” His family watched in absolute entertainment as you two bickered back and forth. The argument kept shifting from humorous to serious and they didn’t know where to stand.

On the outside, it seemed as though you disliked one another, yet this was just another day for the Sullys where you and Lo’ak bickered so much, they had to get you two separated to make it stop.

“Shit- stop! that hurts!” he almost wailed, leaning back against the tree when you applied the ointment to the cut on his face and given the expression of disapproval you had on yours, Lo’ak could only mutter under his breath as he fixed his posture.

“Man, am I not allowed to complain now?”

“Lo’ak,” you started, and he could immediately sense your change in demeanor by how visibly deflated you looked.

“I’m okay,” He cut you off with a firm stare, but his hand held a warmth to it, a gentle reminder that he could never be mean to you for a long time as he rested his palm on top of your hand. “Really, it was just one reckless moment that is all.”

“You’ve been saying this for— Eywa knows how long, Lo’ak, it’s serious. You need to watch out.”

“You don’t trust me?” With his tone, you could tell he was genuinely curious to know what you felt about him as a warrior and his heart was ready to shatter into pieces, waiting for the usual answer that was chanted like a mantra by his father.

“I mean, I’m not as strong or as cool as big brother Neteyam, but I can be helpful on the field and–“

“Lo’ak, I trust you.” You were never one to lie, especially not when you let your eyes fall on his. Flashing him a small smile, your fingers applied the ointment on the rest of the cuts on his face in a much more delicate manner, taking in how his tail was swaying from side to side at your comment.

“Someone is a little happy,” you teased, hands gathering all the medical stuff that his grandmother had given you to put them back in their spot.

“I will push you off my Ikran next time we go on a ride.” the glare on his face was playful and you couldn’t help but pat his head affectionately.

“I can always call for my own Ikran you idiot.” He wasn’t even able to push you away when you leaned down with your pinky up to his face.

“Pinky promise, by the way,”

“Pinky promise?” You didn’t let him stay confused for long before grabbing his wrist to intertwine your pinky fingers together.

“That I trust you. With all of my heart.” and with that, you took off with your tail swaying softly from side to side.

Lo’ak observed you for some time after you left, ignoring how his face still stung a little from you tending to his small wounds. Sighing in exhaustion, he ignored the looks he was getting from Kiri who sat only a couple of steps away from him.

“Shut up.” He turned his head away when he saw his sister approach him with a teasing grin, ready to tell her off for the umpteenth time the same week for teasing him about the usual topic.

“I haven’t even said anything,” Kiri plopped herself next to her brother, immediately taking notice of how Lo’ak was able to see you every move from his spot.

“I know what you will say and you’re wrong.”

“So you’re just going to keep denying the obvious heart eyes you have for my best friend?” The girl na’vi raised an eyebrow in suspicion.

“I don’t have heart eyes for my best friend too, if you haven’t forgotten yet, I would never do anything to ruin the friendship.” To say that Lo’ak was an idiot was an understatement.

Kiri had told him that a crush would never ruin the friendship but Lo’ak saw it differently. You were a comfort he never thought he could have in a person beside family, a safe space for him to runaway to whenever things got too stressful with his father, Jake, and most importantly you were a best friend, a ride or die and someone who cared about him too much for him to risk watching everything fall apart.

His heart squeezed at the white lie he told his sister, another moment of denial where he forcefully swallowed down any possible trace of romantic feelings for his best friend and Kiri sighed in defeat, having already given up on the topic for the day.

“If you say so, don’t be disappointed if she finds someone else.” She stood up from her spot on the tree, looking down at her brother who visibly flinched at the mention of you possibly finding a mate, a lifelong partner and someone who would proudly show you off before Eywa.

“I would be happy for her,” Lo’ak almost bit his tongue at his attempt to fool his own heart, to halt it from hammering so strongly against his chest and stop himself from feeling so upset at the thought.

“Brother, you’re a fool.” Was all what Kiri said before walking away towards you and starting a casual conversation as usual, asking you if you wanted to go on a ride on your Ikrans after making sure every warrior was safe and taken care of.

And Lo’ak could only watch with a tight jaw, flexing his hand in an attempt to stop himself from possibly punching himself in the face.

Maybe Jake was right, he was a disappointment. Someone who isn’t even able to maintain a proper friendship without falling hard for his best friend, and the uncertainty of keeping things strictly platonic with you was eating him up alive. He hoped that Eywa would make his worries go away, and perhaps find a solution to the mess he had created inside his head.

Eywa didn’t take long before answering his prayers, but it came with a cost.

Longing stares and hours of talking to one another way past curfew after sneaking out turned into cold shoulders and short conversations. The effort was barely there and you could tell Lo’ak didn’t even want to acknowledge your existence whenever you came around and it hurt, it pained you that you didn’t even know what you had done wrong to suddenly lose a person whom you held so dear to your heart.

Your lip quivered as you stared at the plate of fruits you had freshly cut up for Lo’ak, tears threatening to spill from your eyes when you remember how he harshly rejected your offer at spending time together.

“I have a meeting with my father. Later.”

“But Lo’ak we haven’t–“

“Don’t be so clingy, I said later. Go find someone else to eat the fruits with.”

Clingy? Someone else?

You didn’t want to eat them with anyone beside him. Having him call you clingy when he used to get excited to spend time with you, saved you the last bits of his food and would talk your ear off about his schedule, it was all confusing. You didn’t know what you had done wrong and if you were even able to fix it given how it was painfully obvious that you were the source of the miscommunication going on.

It felt like Eywa wasn’t on your side the past few weeks, and your heart squeezed in disappointment at how your strong faith was being questioned by such tough times. You never doubted your deity, believed that everything happens for a reason but what could possibly come out of being so abruptly separated from Lo’ak?

You headed back to your hammock and set the plate aside to grab your pen and paper. When everything felt like it was falling apart, writing seemed to be the safest option. You found comfort in spilling your worries to a sheet of paper and weren’t ashamed of it, in fact, you were praised greatly for it by Kiri who had told you that her mother would’ve definitely developed an interest to you and your ways of distressing.

Oh Eywa has it been difficult to breathe as of late. Lo’ak hates me, that I am sure of. I have been nothing but a good friend to him and I’m confused and heartbroken, I don’t know what to do Eywa and I want to talk to him, to ask him what caused to hate me so strongly. Maybe it’s my strong love for him? Have I pushed it too far?

To be truthful, you had been in a state of denial for quite some time now. You were a friend to Lo’ak, a companion and a person who was always by his side but your heart craved more.

It was the way your heart leapt whenever Lo’ak came around, throbbing when he sat next to you, leaving no space between the both of you. How your body tensed when he would place his hands on your shoulders and he would stare at you with concerned eyes, wondering if he had smacked your skin a bit too hard.

But you knew it was wrong. It was unacceptable for you to feel this way for your best friend, even more horrible to crave him in ways only two people who are mated want one another.

You felt rustling behind you and jumped at the noise, head whipping back with fearful eyes only to relax once you realized that it was just Neteyam.

You had grown to enjoy the boy’s company over the years and he was nothing but nice to you. The two of you had short yet sweet conversations and you could tell that Neteyam saw you as a sister, someone who belonged in the family more than anyone else.

“Thought you had a meeting with Mr. Sully?” your voice was small as you scribbled on your paper, lips pressed in a thin line and posture slouched as you leaned against the tree.

“Fix your posture, you’ll feel like you’re eighty when you’re twenty.” Neteyam tried to brighten up the mood, only to realize that it poor timing since you only flashed him a weak smile before giving a half assed attempt at sitting up properly.

“So no meeting, he just didn’t want to see me?” The boy flinched at your words and he wished you didn’t notice, but you were smart and you had a sharp eye. Things like body language and little white lies didn’t go unnoticed by you and yet Neteyam was confused on how you weren’t able to see through Lo’ak’s poor attempt at pushing you away because of how much he wanted you.

“He’s an idiot, but I promise you that–“

“Don’t…Don’t promise me something that might not happen,” you cut him off with a sharp intake of breath, your chest tightening and tears threatening to spill at any moment. You were growing tired of everyone reassuring you with words, only for Lo’ak to shatter any hope you’ve had that you two would make up from the nonexistent fight that you had.

“He thinks what he’s doing is the right thing, but it isn’t,” The eldest of the Sullys took it upon himself to wipe your tears away, thumbs caressing your cheeks in a delicate manner. “He is an idiot, but I want you to know that it’s paining him just as much,“

You scoffed at the words but never pulled away from the boy’s touch. “It pains him just as much? He’s the one who started it.”

“I know but–“

“Teyam,” your hand wraps around his wrist, and you gently pull it away from your face before holding his hand in your own. “It’s alright, I know you want to defend your brother and you have every right to do so but he hurt me, he’s causing me so much pain from a situation he created,”

“I’m not asking you to pick sides, but I’m also not going to let my pain get invalidated. I’m the one hurting here because he woke up on the wrong side of his hammock three weeks ago and decided not to utter a single word my way ever since.”

Neteyam could only sigh at your words. You were right, the situation was much more complicated than a simple disagreement between you two. Had you known the full story behind what was going on inside Lo’ak’s brain, maybe then it would feel fair to tell you that the boy was also in pain.

“Just do what feels less painful to you.” As if that was going to be easy, but the more you interacted with Lo’ak, the tighter your chest felt. You needed a break from the boy even if you knew that seeing him was enough to reassure you that he was doing okay.

This was the longest Lo’ak had ever sulked in a corner and everyone was starting to grow tired of it.

The boy was almost lifeless, barely engaging in any conversation with his family members. He ignored Tuk’s nagging and consistent request to play with her, brushed off Neteyam’s suggestion to go on a ride with their Ikrans and wouldn’t even talk back to Kiri and Spider.

He was unrecognizable to say the least.

Neytiri nudged her husband with a concerned look on her face, eyes silently begging him to do something about the boy who went from being the loudest to the most reserved.

Jake could only awkwardly shuffle in his spot before coughing to catch his children’s attention. Talking to his sons wasn’t his virtue, it felt easier to console his little girls but given how strange Lo’ak had been acting, it was finally time to have a heart to heart with his son.

“Son, let’s ride our Ikrans after dinner.”

Lo’ak didn’t even raise his head at the sentence, simply thinking that Jake wasn’t referring to him. It wasn’t until the silence had felt too long that Jake called again, this time making sure that he heard him.

“Son? Lo’ak?” said boy raised his head with a perplexed look, and Jake noticed how his food was basically untouched.

“Yes sir?”

“We’re riding our Ikrans after dinner.” Jake repeated, setting his plate to the side before nodding at Neytiri as a way of thanking her for the food.

“We?” the boy looked at his brother, unsure if he was hearing his father correctly.

“You and I, son.” Lo’ak grew nervous at this. He and his father weren’t on best terms most of the time given how their personalities clashed with one another, but he thought that giving it a try wouldn’t hurt anybody.

“Okay dad.”

After a poor attempt at finishing his food, Lo’ak finally decided to join his dad after hopping on his Ikran. He wasn’t entirely sure of what his father wanted to talk about but he hoped that it wouldn’t cause the two of them to start fighting as usual.

“You closed off on yourself,” Jake didn’t bother with trying to ease Lo’ak into the topic, he immediately pushed him inside. He could tell he caught his son off guard given the wide eyes and how his lips struggled to find the right words to say.

“And you’re not only hurting yourself but you’re also hurting people around you,” Jake wanted to see how far he could push his son before making him admit his obvious feelings for you, the one girl he and Neytiri were very sure that she was going to be their son’s future mate.

“I don’t have that many friends,” Lo’ak’s sarcasm could be sensed from miles away and Jake held back a sigh at how similar he and his son were. He hated that sometimes. seeing in his son a version of himself he was ready to bury.

“I’m glad that you’re acknowledging that (name) isn’t just a friend.” The eldest pushed his son a little further and he couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips at how nervous and awkward his son got.

“She is just a friend…”

“We’re definitely different when it comes to this,” Lo’ak raised his head at his father’s words, unsure of where he was going with this.

“I married your mom not long after I met her, didn’t have time for all this being in denial bullshit,”

“Mom wasn’t a childhood friend.”

“Yet I think if she was a childhood friend, it would’ve made me want to marry her even more.”

The beauty of growing up together, getting to tell the next generation that you’ve known who your soulmate was at a very young age is a privilege not a lot of people have, not when most Na’vi have their mates chosen for them. And Lo’ak was very much aware of that and yet he couldn’t help but think that no one would choose him, not when he was so… like himself.

“I just think…she can do better,” Sharing his biggest insecurity was challenging enough as it was, but doing so with his father felt rough on his heart strings. Lo’ak’s throat tightened up and suddenly he became hyperaware of his fast heartbeat and sweaty palms, wishing that he had chosen something else to say to save him from the discomfort he was feeling.

“Is that truly up to you to decide?” The boy blinked once then twice, trying to register the fact that pouring his heart out was easier than he anticipated. He couldn’t bring himself to formulate a sentence for a good ten seconds before he was looking away from Jake, the latter’s words finally getting to his head.

“Does it even matter if I let her decide?”

“Would you have wanted her to let you feel the same if roles were reversed?”

“Roles could never be reversed cause she isn’t a freak like me,” Lo’ak almost snapped back in response and he visibly tensed at how defensive he was getting.

“So you think she deserves better than some five fingered freak like yourself?” Jake was blunt as he responded, eyes boring into his son’s who could only nod in response, not catching onto the sarcasm lacing in his words.

“Seems like you don’t know her as well as you claim to do.” Jake dipped down with his Ikran and Lo’ak followed shortly after with his own companion, eyebrows furrowed in confusion at the words coming out of his father’s mouth.

“Of course I do know her, she’s my best friend and I’m sure that she—“

“The reason why you like her so much is because she never cared about stuff like this. It’s been this way ever since you were a child, son.” Toruk Makto was now face to face with his son as their Ikrans came to a stop mid air. “For you to make her go through so much pain because you suddenly decided that she wanted to change her ways and morals is unfair in my opinion, both for her and yourself.”

“But to ruin the friendship—“

“Again, those are only assumptions you have made based off of pretty weak evidence—made up one since you didn’t even question her on whom has her attention or better yet, her heart.”

The picture was slowly coming together to Lo’ak now and the clearer it got, the more he realized just how badly he fucked up.

Three agonizing weeks of ignoring you, stopping himself from joining a conversation you were in and suspending any attempt you had thrown his way to hang out together, catch up and possibly ask him what was so wrong that he refused to talk to you.

Sure, it pained him so much but he knew how sensitive you were. In fact, he could tell from your big yellow eyes how deeply hurt you were everytime he rejected you, and Eywa, did it make his heart squeeze, almost shatter at the sight of tears brimming your vision.

Lo’ak knew he fucked up, and he could only pray to Eywa that he would be able to fix what could possibly cost him a friendship and perhaps his childhood sweetheart.

You had every right to be ignoring Lo’ak right now. That, he is totally aware of, and even knew that it was exactly what he deserved after ghosting you for no apparent reason.

But at this point, you were just torturing him.

Tonight, the Omaticaya decided that it was time to hold their weekly party at the end of the week, distressing and letting loose after a long week of hard work.

Those parties were fun, they were what everyone needed—what you needed most importantly and you weren’t going to deny it, you were looking forward to it even if it meant having to encounter Lo’ak since he was Toruk Makto’s son.

Things had started pretty well with everyone chatting and discussing thing such as how great of a leader Toruk Makto was, how they haven’t felt this safe in quite some time and that everything being under his control was something to be proud of as forest Na’vi.

And while Jake and Neytiri soaked in all the attention, the kids were doing their thing. Mostly chatting with their friends or in some cases, stalking some.

Lo’ak was aware of how creepy he looked just staring at you with an unwavering gaze but he was determined to have you lock eyes with him. If he wasn’t going to approach you, getting to see your eyes for the first time in a while would mean the world to him.

“You’re looking a bit menacing, brother.” Neteyam placed his hand on his brother’s shoulder, staring in your direction as well with a small smile on his lips.

“Huh? Well, I guess it’s not menacing enough to have her look my way.” Lo’ak mumbled under his breath, earning a lighthearted chuckle from Neteyam who could only pat his shoulder before squeezing it.

“You don’t want to look menacing or creepy, you want to look apologetic.” Lo’ak glanced at Neteyam after hearing those words and he knew how right his brother was but how? how was he supposed to look more apologetic than he already feels?

“Just walk up to her and see what happens.” Yeah, easier said than done.

“I will tell you what will happen. I will go up there and make a fool of myself because one, I don’t really know what to tell her and two, she will ignore me either way and I absolutely deserve it after treating her like shit because of something she’s not even responsible of,”

Lo’ak was frustrated but he couldn’t exactly do anything about it or even let himself feel this frustration without guilt washing over him.

It must’ve been horrible for you. But enough of feeling bad for you, he knew that despite what could possibly happen, he still had to confront you one way or another.

“Good luck,” was all what Neteyam said before walking away to let his younger brother decide on what he was going to do.

Luck

“Shit, I’ll need plenty of that.” Lo’ak mumbled before heading towards you through the crowd.

You could see Lo’ak and Neteyam from the corner of your eyes, you weren’t blind or clueless. You knew the two were talking about you just based on their body language. How unsure Lo’ak seemed and how playful the older brother was being and despite the fact that you thought it was endearing, you were still very mad at Lo’ak, and rightfully so.

It took them a couple of minutes to finish their conversation before Lo’ak was walking towards you and in a state of panic, you let go of whatever was in your hand and started heading out of the crowd, to a more secluded area. Anything to get away from Lo’ak as soon as possible.

You didn’t dare to look back, footsteps fast and unfaltering as you walked deeper into the forest with Lo’ak right behind you. Maybe if you didn’t perceive him, he would magically disappear.

“If anything, you know I’m the fastest runner between you and I,” his voice was uncertain, as if he was testing waters while still half-chasing you and you completely ignored his words, very determined on getting him to get off your tail.

“Going deeper into the woods won’t make me lose sight of you,”

“Did your tail get prettier?” was he staring at your tail?

Lo’ak was taken aback when you abruptly came to a stop and whipped your head fast to look at him and he wishes he could take back every bad thing he’s done to you, he wishes he could undo the past few weeks but he can’t, and he certainly can’t erase the pain in your eyes, how utterly confused and broken you must be feeling now that he’s suddenly trying to talk to you again.

“Listen-“

“No, no- you will listen. Because clearly that’s not what you wanted to do for like a month.” Your index finger was almost in his face but he didn’t back away or flinch, he let you be as mad as you wanted to be.

“I didn’t do anything to deserve what you did to me. I was a good friend! I was patient and forgiving, I kept finding stupid excuses for your lame ass while you didn’t even try to hide the fact that you were openly ignoring me for whatever reason!”

Lo’ak could tell you weren’t breathing properly while talking, and he wanted to hold your face and get you to calm down but touching you seemed off the table right now.

“And you come back and tell me my tail looks prettier?”

“I was just-“

“I’m still talking.” Your stern voice made him seal his lips shut, but he couldn’t help how his heart leapt a little in his chest. He had to fight the smile that was forming on his lips because he really didn’t want you to think he wasn’t taking you seriously.

“I appreciate you telling me my tail looks prettier but that does not and will never compensate for how shitty you made me feel lately.” Your voice was less harsh and smaller. He could tell you were slowly letting the tough façade fall apart because you weren’t used to getting hurt this badly. It drained you so much having him hurt you like this, and it made Lo’ak drown deeper in the guilt.

“I know it won’t, but I promise it hurt me just as much.”

“Then why did you do it?” Eywa, he wishes he could tell you.

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then we cant be friends again.” Your response was quick and dry. Lo’ak felt like he was quickly losing you the more he spoke and that absolutely terrified him.

“No, you don’t get it. If I tell you, I will lose you.”

“Is there anything to lose at this point?” Lo’ak was starting to realize how badly he fucked up the moment you said this.

“Wha- of course there is?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he stared down at you and for the first time, you weren’t glaring at him. Your eyes were slowly filling up with tears, breathing getting quicker by the second.

Lo’ak reached his hands towards your face to test the waters and when you didn’t flinch or pull away, just kept your eyes locked with his, he knew just how badly you needed to be held.

“Oh I’m so terrible, aren’t I?” He almost cooed at you, hands holding your face with his thumbs caressing your cheeks and your little nod before blinking some tears away.

“So… so terrible.” you nuzzled against his hand, a hiccup escaping your lips as you held back a sob.

“Eywa,” Lo’ak whispered, stepping a little closer to you so he could rest his forehead against yours. “You mean so much to me and it’s… terrifying.”

Your confusion only pushed him to continue, his nose brushing against yours and suddenly you were aware of how close—how intimate the position you were in. But you didn’t mind, your heart was racing yet you couldn’t bring yourself to push him away this time.

“If I mean so much to you, why hurt me?” your voice was small, almost too afraid to speak louder and ruin the moment.

“I thought hurting you would get you to hate me,” Lo’ak swallowed hard, eyes focused on your lips before staring right back at yours once again. “and you would realize that you deserve someone better than me.”

“And you think you have the right to choose for me?” your hands slowly moved up towards his shoulders and at first, he thought you were going to push him away. It wasn’t until he felt you press your body closer before wrapping your arms around his neck that he realized that you were doing the complete opposite.

“I chose you—Eywa chose you for me, and she is never wrong.” And you were right. As if your skin glowing in the dark wasn’t already beautiful, the forest decided to bless your moment even further.

Seeds of the sacred tree were floating all around you both, the pure spirits giving Lo’ak the reassurance and the tiny push he needed to finally close the distance between you two.

Your breath hitched when you felt his lips brush against yours, but you were growing impatient with the small amount of hesitance left in him.

“Promise me that you won’t hurt me again,” your words were hushed, breath quickening when you felt him pull you in closer by your hips.

“I promise.” the stars illuminated the sky and the night was threatening to get colder. But when Lo’ak was pulling you impossibly closer, your cheeks flushed with heat. His fingers traced the skin on your hipbone before digging in harshly, your sharp intake of breath making his eyes wander down to your lips once again.

“It’s unfair…“ your whisper caught him off guard and his eyebrows furrowed in confusion before they rose high when your hands slid down to caress his arms, gently moving towards his chest to rest your hands there. You looked up at him through your lashes, and if Lo’ak wasn’t aware of his feelings for you, he would think you were trying to make him fall deeper in love with every bit of you.

“What is unfair?”

“That you’re taking so long to kiss me,” your hands gently grabbed his face, holding his jaw to tilt his head down towards you. “I see you, Lo’ak.”

You didn’t need for him to say it in return—he wasn’t exactly able to with his lips pressed against yours in dizzying manner. You never thought you could grow more nervous around Lo’ak yet he seemed to have a knack for surprising you everytime, especially with his hands gripping the back of your thighs to pull you up and wrap your legs around his waist.

“I see—I see you too,” when he pulled away, panting from the kiss and eyes glazed with what appeared to be a mixture of lust and admiration, you could only squeeze your legs around his waist with a small smile.

“Already so out of breath?” your lips brushed against his nose in an endearing manner, fingers tracing his cheek to take in every little detail that made him who he is—yours.

“You dont know what you do to me,” he slowly backed you up against a tree, your cheeks flushing when you realized just how intimate the position you were in.

“Maybe I would like to find out,” Your teasing, your playful tone and your eyes that were clearly so lost in his, were constant reminders of how special he felt around you.

He, who had the honor of being your one and only, could only pray that Eywa approved of his love and devotion for you.

2023 © all works belong to slttygeto. do not repost my work anywhere else.

[witheredgardenparty]

In Sets of Threes

Read on AO3 (AO3 Account)

Aventurine x g/n Reader

He thinks sometimes that he might be resentful. (or, the one where you are a little too kind.)

Warnings: yandere dynamics, soft yandere, Aventurine's backstory and use of real name, all of the warnings that come with his backstory (if you know, you know), we do not linger on it but it is there, gambling, suicidal ideology, stalking, unreliable narrator, attempted mind games, Reader is hurt (not by violence), implied past abuse against Reader (ambiguous situation), Reader might be manipulative but we cannot trust the narrator... but what if?!, 'came back wrong' trope except the death is metaphorical, L*igi G*lvani

Word Count: 3.4k

Kakavasha is born a single grain of sand. A sliver of chromium quartzite among infinite others. Small, but no less important in the grander design of the desert. A piece of a whole.

He is born into love.

A shattering tears hearth from home. A grain becomes a grit becomes an irritation. He struggles and struggles and struggles until time and effort wear him down into something shining. Into something with edges. Anything deemed unnecessary, dispensable, is whittled away. He is left a remnant of carved facets and mirrored surfaces. What remains is worth showing off. Worth selling.

Whoever he once was dies with a number and a brand. A single bet leaves a corpse’s mouth, and something else takes his place. Wrath drapes his skin like a coat. Spite props the skeleton upright. Grief keeps the blood pumping.

Aventurine wins the bet, of course. He always does. Blood stained rags make way for bespoke suits. Calloused hands are protected in ink dyed lamb leather. He adorns himself in gold bands and bright colors.

(With great irony, he covers himself in peacock feathers. He means it as a warning, as an omen, but the intent is lost on his marks entirely. They mistake it for opulence or charm. Anyone who would have remembered the significance is no longer watching.)

Observers call it ‘indulgence’, but he knows better. Only the nature of his chains have changed.

In games of chance, there is no tolerance for error. He learns to hide the tremor. He is trained to suppress the flinch. The ever growing familiarity of sneering faces is met with a radiant smile.

He hates that it becomes second nature to him.

He hates the rot he lets fester inside himself.

He hates the way you look at him even more.

...please continue on AO3. (Requires an Account)

[aurae-rori]

DR RATIO ANALYSIS PT 3 BUT IT'S JUST GAY

Now, you might be saying - "Aurae, you've done part one, and part two, so why do we need a part three?" The answer is because of two things - one. I made a deal with the Tumblr Peoples that if one of my posts hit more than 50 likes I would do this analysis. Two. Mihoyo is making this shit canon. I CAN'T MAKE THIS UP. So, let's delve into my usual disclaimer, as we might have some new people joining us for the first time with my insanity.

I have been researching psychology personally for about six years, so although I am not a professional (crawling my way there through the education system. I will be one, one day.) I do have some experience with analyzing homosexuals. Psychology hours, my children. They don't call me "chronically cooking" for nothing. Maybe I should change my url to that...

NOW THAT MY LONG AHH DISCLAIMER IS OVER, LET'S GET INTO THIS! It's time to deconstruct these homosexuals like a modern airplane, because they might as well be taking off with how canon they are.

"It can't be canon," they say, but then Mihoyo DOES PAID SPONSORSHIPS WITH THESE FUCKERS BEING GAY. We've all seen the paid partnership edit. We've all seen the video where Aventurine has the audio of "nice rack" as he talks to Dr. Ratio. PAID SPONSORSHIPS. Now, if that piece of evidence isn't enough for you - let's dive into their actual relationship, which is just a HOMOSEXUAL MESS. I will be focusing more on how Dr. Ratio sees this guy as this is a Dr. Ratio analysis™, but hey, the crumbs.. we eat 'em all. Amen.

Let's start off (I say as I write this part three days later) about how people are like, 'Aven is Ratio's favourite idiot' WRONG. Ratio does NOT consider Aventurine to be an idiot and knows that he is smart and capable in his own right. While Ratio is book smart, Aven is extremely street smart and holds his own very well. Ratio does not consider Aventurine to be an idiot as he takes off his plaster head around him and actually indulges in his whims around him. This is a blatant showcase of fondness because although he is emotionally constipated and can't be affectionate through words without sounding semi-backhanded because he's never had true affection in his life, he showcases his love through actions rather than words. He's just bad at showing love, okay? But he does love Aven. Or like him, to some extent, if you don't want to see them as romantic, which is fine. However, no matter what you label their bond as, it's obvious that they care for one another.

Also, the fucking ZEST FEST that was 'keeping up with Star Rail'. He says, "wait a minute - MUTUAL?" which indicates that he has respect for Aventurine in the first place. He LITERALLY TOLD US that he respects Aventurine and he was commenting on Aventurine's playstyle & everything.. also, at the end, he was here because 'I appreciate this show's dedication to knowledge' - his TONE. Kudos to the VA because that was not convincing at all. Bro was NOT here for the knowledge, bro was here to be GAY!!! Also his little own bathtub couch. We all know Aven bought it for him. Trust, I am John Hoyoverse.

"The Charming Audacity" HUH? BRO? Okay this is hilarious to me because this is the first time that we ever really see them interact with one another, and we get absolutely bitchslapped in the fact that Dr. Ratio calls this guy's audacity 'charming'. That's GAY. That's HOMOSEXUAL.

Also, comparing him to a peacock.. a very beautiful bird.... Must I say more?

Now, the part that I really want to focus on is the part where he gives the Doctor's Note to Aventurine. This shit is important. And I agree with the people who are like - Acheron helped him. Because she did. She was a big part of it and she helped Aventurine get back on his feet in the void. Dr. Ratio is not his only reason to live, but the note, showing that someone will stay by his side? Showing that someone truly cares for him? Someone who's waiting for him when he get back? This bond that he has with Dr. Ratio isn't fake. He already has a starting point to get back to - an anchor to return to. Dr. Ratio is his anchor. Whenever he goes off to do crazy shit, Veritas Ratio will be there when he returns. Because Ratio is loyal. Ratio cares. He cared enough to almost jeopardize their plan to make sure that Aventurine was going to be okay. He cares so damn much about Aventurine that he decided that this man's emotional state after the fake betrayal was more important than all of fucking Penacony.

If you want an example of "I would let the world burn for you," it's Ratio. He's a romantic not in the traditional sense, but he cares and loves Aventurine so damn much it makes my heart hurt. "Do stay alive," he says, knowing that Aventurine struggles with living. Those three words mean the whole fucking world to someone who struggles with suicidal ideation and suicidal thoughts. Someone wants you to live. Someone wants you to stay. Someone wants you by their side.

Dr. Ratio cares. Let me say that again - he cares. He banters with Aventurine, tries to create an environment where Aventurine can feel a little bit more comfortable with the two of them, even in a place as dangerous as Penacony. He will put his own life on the line for Aventurine.

He cares. He cares so damn much. I hate gay people. They make me VIOLENTLY homophobic.

Dr. Ratio after expressing his care indirectly and complimenting Aventurine indirectly: Did I do it?

Aventurine, who has caught none of the hints:

Anyway, thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[felassan]

Lucanis' art piece seems to be so full of symbolism! he's in shadow, almost blending out of/into the dark. I love the black-and-purple color palette that they chose, in places blue-black and inky-dark, iridescent like corvid feathers or spilled ink or an oil slick.. In the bottom half of the image, the background is patterned like feathers, and a flock of crows (Crows) flying downwards. the hilt [?] of one of his swords reminds me of this Crow's from the art piece accompanying As We Fly.

In the top half of the background, it looks at once like peacock feathers and a sinister series of many eyes (different-sized, like someone else we know).. some kind of entity? purple is a prideful color in-world and irl, peacocks are a bird with pride-related symbolism, and in-world, Pride demons have many eyes. his own eyes glow purple** like the glowing purple 'eyes' behind him, and both his and they are looking the same way, directly at the viewer. In Tevinter Nights, we're told that after the Wigmaker Job, Lucanis earned himself even more of a reputation and the moniker of "The Demon". we assumed that he faked his death, but what if there's more going on? maybe he really did die, and now he's like Wynne or something, only it's not Faith? maybe TN was kinda lampshading it when it said "From flying vermin to malicious spirit. That's quite the promotion." ? [a quote from Zara]

(** reminds me of the physical instinct he has where the back of his eyeballs twitch and his skull feels raw when someone is tapping into the Fade or tearing at the Veil's seams or pulling across the Veil, how he can tell when the Veil is thin or torn and feel when raw magic energy is charging the air. not a mage, but magic-sensitive..?)

the way colors bleed together, hazy, it's like he's swimming in and out of focus in the viewer's vision or like his form is shifting slightly. the other thing the image shows is his purple wings (which, as is now confirmed, that figure in the character trailer is Lucanis).

[source]

[suzukiblu]

Day twenty-three of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon.

So alright, Tim may have made some miscalculations here. Or at least one very serious miscalculation, anyway. Kon is a hopeless flirt who always wants attention and to be the most interesting person in the room, and so perhaps inserting Tim Drake into his life as a person determined to give him attention and treat him like the most interesting person in the room while also flirting back was not, in fact, the best plan.

Or, more succinctly: Tim is a fucking idiot. 

After the mall, where Tim nearly fell off that bench twice more and Kon showed him everything he’d picked out to try on and Tim bought him literally every single piece of it that fit, some of it in multiple colors, and Kon, the bastard, then decided to wear the strap-covered leather pants and S-shield crop top out into actual public for the rest of their not-date, because he is, again, a bastard who Tim had to eat lunch with in the food court while he was smugly preening and peacocking in his stupid leather pants and crop top–after the mall, Tim realized he had a problem, and that problem was a) everything about Superman and Cadmus but especially actually-claimed-to-be-a-decent-person Superman and also b) Kon might actually like him as a person. Like. Genuinely and actually like him. 

That is definitely not something Tim planned for. Not in one single solitary contingency plan did he ever even consider “Kon actually liking Tim Drake as a person” as being a potential issue. Kon should have better taste than that, for one thing. Tim Drake is a photography nerd and a nerd-nerd and he's not all that interesting or attractive. He has weird taste in video games and only likes the role-playing games that literally nobody actually plays. And he isn't even that good at skateboarding! 

It has occurred to Tim, perhaps, that while Kon definitely is and always has been a flirt, he may have been basing his previous personal assumptions about how "serious" any more focused forms of flirting have been less on Kon himself and more on other people's reactions to said flirting. That it might not be Kon who's getting bored and moving on at the drop of a hat. 

Meaning, for all he knows Kon only really hits on people he's actually interested in and is simultaneously absolutely attention-starved enough to devote himself to anyone who so much as implies any kind of reciprocal interest. 

So that's . . . something to take under consideration, possibly. And be wary of, possibly. 

Except . . . 

It's kind of bad that Tim wants to just lean into it, isn't it. That he wants to–wants to encourage it. 

That he wants to devote himself back to that devotion in turn and see just how far it goes. 

Yeah, that cannot be a healthy thought process to be having, under the circumstances. 

But Tim's having it, all the same. And it wouldn't be that bad, would it? He actually does like Kon, for starters. He's not trying to use him or take advantage of him. Manipulate him a little, yeah, obviously, but Tim is pretty sure he's literally incapable of not manipulating the people he cares about at this point in his life, so . . . 

Possibly he should work on that? Like, come to think. 

But that's a later-problem. Somewhere between now and supervillainy. 

Anyway, Superman decided it was perfectly fucking fine to leave Kon in a literal fucking lab that wasn't even paying or educating him or anything, so Tim feels pretty secure in his current moral high ground. He is the Obi-Wan Kenobi of this situation and he has absolutely no reservations about that fact. 

At least as long as Kon's happy, anyway. 

Tim could maybe make him happy, he's realizing. Like . . . if Kon really does like him like that, he means. He could get him a homey little place in Gotham, like a studio downtown or maybe a small estate in Bristol, and he could take him on dates to actually nice places, and he could hang out with him on the weekends and play whatever video games he's into. They could actually spend time together where Kon doesn't think he has to be either “cool” or just like Superman, and where Tim doesn't have to be professional and emotionally distant. Time where Kon could be a normal guy and Tim wouldn't have to wear a mask. 

It's . . . tempting. 

Really, really tempting. 

Anyway, that's why Tim is currently planning the nicest and least-ethical date of his life while on patrol with Nightwing. Japanese food is still probably his best bet, since neither Gotham nor Metropolis is exactly spoiled for Hawaiian food and actually flying Kon all the way to Hawaii might be coming on a little bit too strong for a first date, and obviously he's not going to make Kon fly him there. He's the one planning this date, and he will not be cheating said planning or skimping on the budget by taking advantage of anyone's superpowers. 

Besides, Kon still doesn't actually have superspeed so it'd probably take like eight hours to get there. At least six, depending on the weather and the headwind. And it wouldn't exactly make for prime small-talk time, either. 

So yeah, Japanese food is sounding better and better. The only Hawaiian food Tim's actually tracked down around here with decent reviews is a food truck, and that's just not “nice first date” vibes. He promised Kon someplace nice for their actual official first date, and he is gonna deliver on said “nice” or die trying. 

Possibly literally, considering. 

“You seem a little distracted, baby bird,” Dick says as he pulls him up out of the filthy waters of the Gotham River. Tim considers explaining Kon's thighs to him, then resolves to never, ever explain Kon's thighs to him. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I have a YJ-related op to plan and I'm having trouble keeping my mind off it.” 

“Understandable,” Dick says, then yanks them both behind a dumpster as Two-Face's latest crop of dichotomous thugs catch up again and bullets start flying. “Maybe right now is not the ideal time for that, though?” 

Tim wonders if Bludhaven has decent Hawaiian food. 

“Valid,” he says. “Hey, do you think a planetarium is a stupid date idea?” 

“That depends entirely on who the date is with,” Dick says, pulling out his escrima sticks. Tim takes the cue to grab and extend his bo. “Nothing’s stupid if it'd make the person you're taking happy. Four o'clock.” 

“Thanks,” Tim says as he whips a birdarang into the gun hand of the guy running up behind them. Dick has a point, really, but unfortunately not a point that is helpful when planning a date with a teammate Tim actually still doesn’t know all that much about the interests and hobbies of. He knows Kon is interested in Krypton, but that doesn’t mean he’s interested in astronomy or space in general. It’s likelier he only cares about Krypton because of Superman, and maybe his own DNA. 

Tim remembers Kon saying he’d never seen anything from Krypton but kryptonite before, which means he is in fact the person who introduced Kon to the first piece of Krypton he ever saw and he did it in an attempt to take him out while Kon was under Poison Ivy’s influence, which is frankly terrible but not as terrible as the fact Superman only just introduced him to anything else about Krypton. 

On that note, Tim needs to work on those plans for weaponized red sunlight this weekend. Maybe after he gets Japanese food with Kon and embarrasses himself by taking him to the planetarium. 

Would he like the aquarium, maybe? It might remind him of Hawaii, and Hawaii probably still feels more like home to him than anywhere else does, so it’s at least a valid hypothesis. Then again, he probably preferred the beach and sky to the marine life. Admittedly, Tim doesn’t actually know that, so it’s still a possibility. 

“I didn’t know you were seeing anyone,” Dick says. 

“I’m not,” Tim only technically lies, whipping another series of birdarangs around the corner of the dumpster, along with a few smoke pellets. They take the cover and run for better positions. “I’m theorizing, that’s all.” 

“Theorizing a date you don’t have anyone to take on?” Dick asks in amusement. “Is that a thing you do a lot of, baby bird?” 

“No,” Tim definitely lies. “I was just thinking about when I used to go out with Spoiler and how to translate that to civilian dating. It’s . . . an issue. Especially after how things went with the last civilian I tried to date.” 

Not that Kon’s a civilian, obviously, but he needs to keep thinking Tim Drake is one. Therefore, patrol dates are still out. And really wouldn’t count as taking him anywhere “nice” anyway, really. Tim needs to step up his game. At least, like, undercover at a gala or something. Or maybe on a yacht. 

Actually, maybe Kon would like to go to a yacht party? Does Kon like boats? Did he do boats in Hawaii? Was that a thing? 

Possible option to research, again. Note to self. 

“Not dating civilians helps,” Dick offers helpfully, then leaps into the air with the kind of height most people couldn’t get off a rocket-powered springboard and comes down in the middle of a cluster of disoriented goons with his sticks already electric and crackling. Tim is both incredibly jealous and duly impressed. “Just in my experience, mind!” 

“Please explain to me who in the community you think I could possibly date when B won’t even let me tell Young Justice my first name or be seen in public with the team at all,” Tim says dubiously, following the path he’s cleared and sweeping up a few stragglers with his staff as he does. It’s one thing not to tell a civilian you’re a superhero, but to not tell another superhero about your civilian life . . . “Any suggestions. Go right ahead.” 

“. . . maybe you should just go ask Spoiler to take you back, buddy,” Dick says with a bit of a wince, not unsympathetically. 

“That would incredibly stupid of me, seeing as we came to a mutual agreement that we shouldn’t date specifically because B wouldn’t let me tell her my name,” Tim says dryly.

“So anyway, civilians!” Dick says brightly, doing a very complicated and fancy-looking backflip that somehow ends up in a roundhouse kick that takes out three guys at once and then landing feet-first on a fourth’s head, because Nightwing is a terrifying badass like that. Tim, again, is jealously impressed. “I hate to say it but you need to case-by-case basis this, Robin, there’s no ‘one size dates all’, you know?” 

“That’d be a lot more convenient,” Tim sighs, jabbing his staff into a few joints and then tripping one of the more dogged grunts with it. She hits the ground face-first with a yelp and the distinct crunch of a breaking nose. Tim might feel a bit bad about that if she and her whole crew weren’t actively trying to murder them for the crime of inconveniencing an arms deal. That seems like a very disproportionate response to him, honestly. When he’s running the Gotham underworld, he’s going to make it very clear to his foot soldiers that unnecessary escalation is not actually a useful long-term survival strategy. It just doesn’t go well, historically speaking. “What if I just throw money at them? Is throwing money at them a valid strategy?” 

“Not even slightly,” Dick says dryly. 

Tim thinks that’s probably not true under these specific circumstances, though he supposes offering fiscal security isn’t the best first move in flirting. Probably not romantic enough or whatever. 

Tim thinks taking care of someone for the entire rest of their life is perfectly romantic, actually, but fine, he’ll buy some damn aquarium tickets and then do the bank fraud. 

Nobody wants to commit these days.

[captainfern]

Hello 👋 is it alright if I request an extra fluff/smut piece for Ghost? With the idea of mutual pining, playing peacocks around each other etc. My idea is something like : SO is good at either playing the guitar or singing, and we know Ghost can play the guitar so maybe SO shows off while in private with him or with the whole grp in the rec room or smth , maybe SO starts showing off and then Ghost joins in w his lil skill? idk it doesnt make a lot of logical sense but id like to think its cute...

Ps: I am absolutely going mad for your writings, they are so so good ! Thank you for sharing your art and talent with us ❤️🫰🏻

Sorry if you dont like the idea, keep safe and have a lovely day 💞

Nothing Else Matters

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x fem!reader

[“Nothing Else Matters” by Metallica]

[18+]

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• summary - ghost teaches you how to play a song on the guitar. he rewards you for listening so well lol. • rating - 18+ • wordcount - 3.8k • warnings - fem!reader, fingering, soft!ghost, HEAVY praise, a lil sprinkle sprinkle of a size kink, fluff, the mask stays on 🙏

✿ ok but i lowkey struggled writing this idek why 😭 oh well thank you for the ask anon i love this idea fr!! i changed it up a lot, but i hope it's still ok :)

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

For the past few weeks, you had been watching your lieutenant strum at his acoustic guitar after long, strenuous missions. He'd keep his mask on, ripping one skeletal glove off to change notes as his gloved hand strummed and plucked at the strings.

You'd sit across from him in the rec-room, just watching, curled up on the couch next to Gaz, who would be elatedly telling Ghost about songs he should learn on the guitar.

You'd watch his ungloved fingers; how they'd wrap around the neck of the guitar, pressing and moving around the chords. You'd watch his gloved hand; how, despite the fabric, it moved fluidly to brush a tune from the taut strings.

Ghost would hum along, too. Eyes flickering to either watch his hand movements, or stare absent-mindedly into the distance, long blond eyelashes fluttering.

One day, the taskforce returned from yet another stressful mission. Battered and bruised, the five of you wandered into the barracks with separate objectives to relax yourselves. Price disappeared into his office, Soap and Gaz to their respective rooms. That left you and Ghost to idle in the rec-room.

Ghost immediately picked up his guitar, having left it on the couch, and sat down. He drummed his fingers on the hollow body for a moment, staring at the floor. You watched him from the doorway, and he looked up, sensing your eyes on him.

You shied away under his gaze, dropping your head nervously. "Sorry, I–"

"You can watch," he said simply. "It's okay."

You smiled at him, entering the rec-room and taking a seat on the couch opposite. With his mask still on, he bit at the tips of his fingers and pulled his glove off with his teeth, dropping it beside him. He rested his ungloved hand around the neck of his guitar, rubbing his fingers along the fingerboard.

You watched the movements. He looked up at you. You felt the heat of embarrassment prickle at the back of your neck.

"You play?" He asked genuinely, nodding to his guitar.

You shook your head. "No, no. I just... I just like watching you play. You seem to really enjoy it."

He hummed, something like an mhm, but his voice was deep and, in all honesty, it distracted you.

"Helps me reduce stress," he told you, tampering with one of the pegs for a second. "Calms me down."

He then began to play. It was somewhat of a familiar tune, with gentle strumming. His fingers moved fluidly across the fingerboard, and you cocked your head as you watched, reclining further into the couch. You were still in your gear, dirty and flushed with sweat, but you were relaxed– heart calming as you listened to Ghost's song.

You really didn't want to interrupt him, but the intrigue to know the song was almost overwhelming. He clearly could sense it as, without even looking at you, or pausing the movement of his gloved hand, he said: "Nothing Else Matters."

"Metallica?"

"Mhm." The same, deep hum.

You smiled, small. His picking hand was doing most of the work as the chords thrummed together, the song drifting softly around the rec-room. You felt sleepy– like he was sending you to sleep with some sort of lullaby. But you didn't allow yourself slumber, continuing to watch as your lieutenant played.

Halfway through a chord, he stopped. He looked over at you, eyes framed by that signature black paint, and nodded down at his guitar. "You like Metallica?"

You shrugged. "I like that song. Slower. Calmer."

He nodded slowly, eyes flitting back down to his hands for a second, before he looked back up at you. "You wanna play it?"

You shook your head, sitting up. "I don't know how, lieutenant."

"I'll teach you." He said, patting the space on the couch next to him.

You were hesitant to move, fidgeting with your fingers. He was waiting patiently, a hand resting on the fraying couch cushion, the other holding his guitar to his chest.

You sighed. "Look, I haven't even gotten changed, and I probably need a shower–"

"Sit down, sergeant," he said, almost jokingly. "I've been in the military a long time. Dirt and sweat is the least of my worries."

You bit your lip, but abided. You crossed the room, sitting down beside him. He shifted his body so that you could see his hands and the guitar. You watched closely as he guided you through the different chords, teaching you the basics of where to put your fingers.

You followed his ungloved hand with curious eyes, watching the way his fingers flexed, veins in his hands shifting with each press to a string. A sliver of tattoo poked out of his sleeve, along the edge of his wrist. The sight of the ink made your heart flutter.

"Easy enough, yeah?" He concluded, and you realised that you hadn't been paying attention for the past few minutes.

"Uh, yeah." You whispered, before he placed the guitar in your lap. You wiggled to get comfortable, but the way his eyes travelled up and down the length of your sitting frame was making you uncomfortably warm.

"Alright, now start like I showed you," Ghost said, voice low. "Two fingers like– yeah, perfect– and that's Em. Then you'll move into D with– good– then quickly into C– that's it, good."

You moved your trembling fingers, spurred on by his soft praise. You could feel his body heat beside you, radiating. You swallowed thickly, concentrating on moving your hands in tandem, picking up the slow rhythm.

"Now G– yeah– then B– three fingers, there you go, that's it– now back to Em– perfect, well done."

You paused. He had to be doing that on purpose.

"You picked that up pretty well, sergeant." He said.

"I barely managed that one verse," You groaned, flexing your already aching fingers. "Moving my fingers from Em into... uh..."

"D."

"D, right. I'm struggling getting my fingers into position in time." You said, and Ghost nodded next to you, moving closer.

He put a hand on your shoulder and turned you so that your back was to him, pressing against his chest. He wrapped one arm around your side, gripping the neck of the guitar.

"Just watch my hand." He said, masked mouth so close to your ear that you wanted to whimper.

His other hand moved around you, too. He began to strum, slowly, as you watched the movement of his ungloved hand. Effortlessly, he moved between chords, and you watched how he shifted the positioning of his fingers.

"You just have to take it nice and slow," he whispered. "There's no rush. You're learning. Here, you try."

He moved his hand, but kept his gloved one in place. "I'll strum. You focus on the chords."

Well, you couldn't focus on anything with how close he was to you. But, nevertheless, you tried. You did it exactly how he showed you: carefully moving your fingers across the fingerboard, two fingers to three, from one chord to another. You did it a few times as Ghost plucked at the strings.

Each time you failed to transition smoothly between chords, he'd murmur in your ear: "almost", "nearly there", "that's okay, try it again."

When you finally nailed the transition a few times, you hid your glee as he praised you: "that's it", "there you go", "good girl."

The last praise made your fingers stutter, and you prayed he didn't notice. But after half an hour of learning the basics, you decided it was time to get some rest. So, you thanked Ghost, bid him goodnight, and headed off towards the showers, skin warm and mind buzzing.

Ghost watched you go.

Of course he noticed the way you reacted to his voice, his praise.

He had always loved the way you watched him play. Sitting next to Gaz, watching on so intrigued, big eyes following each languid movement of his hands. He liked looking up and catching you staring, only for you to look elsewhere– at your hands, the floor. He liked seeing you nervous.

Ghost especially liked teaching you how to play. Who wouldn't?

Watching the way your brows lightly furrowed as you concentrated, how your hands, so much smaller than his, wrapped around the neck of the guitar and pressed down on the fingerboard. He'd observe the way you bit your lip when you had to focus particularly hard: changing chords, for one thing.

Then, when he pressed you to him, the warmth of your body– even through your military gear– was astounding. He could feel your breathing against his chest, hear the way you sighed through your nose when you got a chord wrong. He really loved when he spoke, close to your ear, and your body tensed for just a second. A second that made Ghost thankful for the thick material of his cargo pants.

He'd always had this juvenile crush on his sergeant. He whittled it down to being a man working with an attractive woman in an adrenaline-fuelled environment. Nothing more.

But having you so close to him, letting him teach you and speak softly in your ear, made him realise that–

"Fucking hell..." Ghost grumbled, placing the guitar to the side and running a hand down his face.

Thinking of you, he could already feel the blood in his body begin to head southward. He stood up, realising that it was time for bed.

And probably a cold shower.

•º•

The next couple of weeks, something in the air between you and your lieutenant had changed.

Maybe you were imagining things, maybe you weren't. But your interactions with your superior had shifted and you wondered if anyone else noticed it too.

Ghost had been continuing to teach you how to play. He was adamant for you to complete the entire song, and every couple of days, he would invite you back into the rec-room and pick up where you left off. You were getting the hang of it, actually.

But other mannerisms of his changed, also. He was gentler with you, spoke quieter, ensured you were okay more often. His orders to Soap and Gaz were abrupt, loud. His orders to you were quieter, less of a shout, usually paired with a gentle squeeze of your shoulder.

He'd pop his head into your room, asking how you were. You would tell him that you're fine. He would reply skeptically, "let me know if you need anything, okay?"

It all seemed confusing. This big, hulking figure of a man with a skull-face balaclava treating you like some kind of porcelain doll. But, you weren't complaining, and Ghost noticed that.

He'd have to be blind not to take notice.

Your pretty smile when you thanked him for something. Your sparkling gaze when you looked up at him. Your subconscious efforts to get closer to him– sitting beside him at briefings, pairing up with him on a mission, asking him for help when you needed it.

Ghost was basking in your presence and enjoying every second of it.

So when another guitar lesson came around, Ghost was eager to see how well you were doing. He was impressed by how fast you had picked it up, smiling when you managed a near perfect run-through of the song a couple of nights ago. Thank fuck for the mask, he thought.

"I think I've almost got it." You beamed, flopping down beside him on the couch.

He smiled under his mask, handing you his guitar. "You think?"

You nodded excitedly, positioning yourself so you were facing him. He watched as you began to play, the tune slower than he played it, but still good. Meanwhile, you were burning up on the inside– the way he was watching you play making you flush. You knew he wasn't even looking at the movement of your hands. He was looking at your face, your expressions. You screwed your eyes shut, losing focus and messing up the chord transition. You cursed under your breath.

"Still having trouble with the Em to D, huh?" Ghost asked, cocking his head to the side and resting his hands on his knees.

The transition was difficult, but you had been practising. The reason you had messed up was because your lieutenant was looking at you like that–

Soft eyes, long lashes, semi-lowered eyelids, smudges of black paint, gloved hands on his knees, large thighs pressed to the couch.

Oh my God, you thought.

Ghost chuckled lowly, as if he could hear your thoughts. That scared the shit out of you, but when he shifted his position, taking the guitar from you, you sighed, relieved.

"I'll run you through it one more time," he said, proceeding to show you the smooth, seamless transition of his fingers. You looked on, attempting to be subtle as you pressed your thighs together, warmth gathering. What the hell. "Think you can manage that?" He asked.

You hesitated to nod, chewing on your bottom lip.

Ghost followed the movement for a split second, snapping his gaze back to your eyes as you opened your mouth to speak.

"Could you... could you help me?"

"'Course," he said quickly, shuffling back on the couch and spreading his thighs. You moved between them, sitting with your back to his chest. Comfortable, as he placed the guitar on your lap and urged you to take hold. He covered your hands with his. "Two fingers to three, sergeant. Easy does it."

He guided you through it.

You were successful in each movement of your fingers.

"There you go, good girl. You've got it, haven't you?" Ghost said in your ear as you strummed, continuing through the verses.

You played for him, still perched between the mass of his thighs, his broad chest moving against your back as he breathed. He had moved his hands away from yours. They rested on your waist, holding you lightly as you played. His thumbs soon rubbed circles in time with your plucking, right on the curve of your hips. Only now did you realise he had taken off both of his gloves.

Tentatively, his hands moved around your hips, then waist to your stomach. He pushed you, carefully, further against his chest as he tucked his head onto your shoulder. You sighed through your nose, trying not to whine as you progressed through Nothing Else Matters.

"Doing so good, sergeant. So good," he whispered, hands splayed warmly across the shape of your tummy. His breath was warm against your neck, your ear, even through his mask. You shuddered against him, but didn't lose your concentration. "You like me teaching you things, hm?"

You allowed yourself a small whine, followed by a nod. He huffed a quiet laugh against your shoulder, sliding his hands back to your hips. He grabbed onto you, pulling your backside flush to his pelvis, making you gasp. Your fingers stopped.

"Keep playing, baby," he cooed into your ear, voice thick and rich with praise and lust. You obeyed, picking up where you left off. He circled your hips with his fingers, before allowing them to slide back to your front, sitting on the buckle of your belt. "If you don't want–"

You cut him off. "Keep going."

He didn't say anything, but he popped your belt open as you resumed playing. He kept his head on your shoulder, watching your hands move as he unzipped your cargos and peeled them open. He slid one hand inside, cupping the front of you over your underwear. He waited and, when you said nothing, he slipped two fingers inside and dragged them towards your heat.

When his digits made contact with your wet core, both of you whined. You stopped, letting your fingers rest against the strings as he trailed his fingers up and down your slit a few times, sliding between the heat of your folds.

"So wet..." He drawled, two fingers snagging your dripping entrance, circling it. You arched against him, song long forgotten. You whined softly into the sudden quietness of the rec-room, and Ghost nuzzled his masked face into the crook of your neck.

"Come on, baby. Keep playing for me," he said, urging you to continue with a pause of his movements. With shaking fingers and a desperate sigh, you started again, rec-room no longer quiet. As you did that, he brought his fingers to your entrance and carefully pushed them inside.

You whined, missing a couple of chords. "Lieutenant–"

"Shh, baby, I know, you're doing so well," Ghost hushed, gently flexing his fingers inside you. "Just want you to finish the song, okay? You can do that for me, baby, I know you can."

Damn it.

Desperately ignoring his thick fingers inside you, you continued. You had just a couple more verses to go, but the fact you could hear your lieutenant huffing softly behind you wasn't doing you any favours.

"So good... so good..." He was muttering to himself, kissing the junction of your neck and shoulder through his mask. His fingers had a slow, but steady pace. He could feel droplets of your arousal running between the grooves of his knuckles. This made him even more hard– painfully so– in the confines of his thick cargos.

With one verse to go, you felt Ghost drag his other hand from your hip to your underwear. He dipped inside, running a finger up and down your folds to collect your arousal as his other hand worked your cunt. He moved his finger, callouses soaked, to your clit and pressed firmly. You keened, arching against him as he rubbed steady circles across the bundle of nerves. Your fingers were trembling against the guitar, warmth spreading rapidly through your body.

"That's it, almost there," Ghost muttered, and you weren't exactly sure if he was referring to the song or your climax. "Sounds so good, baby." Again, the song, or your noises of pleasure? You were surrounded in a muddled daze of him, and you were loving it.

When you completed the song, you were quick to discard the guitar onto the other end of the couch, leaning back against Ghost as he trapped you between his thighs, hands moving against you simultaneously. You released a breathy moan, and then felt the finger on your clit depart. It made home on your mouth, blocking your noises as Ghost fucked his fingers into your needy hole.

"Nice and quiet, sergeant. There you go..." Ghost said, hand on your mouth delicate as he cupped your face.

Your orgasm was approaching rapidly as you screwed your eyes shut, revelling in Ghost's presence behind you, and his fingers pumping into you. You were wet and aching for him, the pressure in your belly building with each timed thrust. His fingers dragged against your walls, rough yet gentle at the same time.

"Been such a good girl, listening to me," he whispered, fingers stroking your cheek as he muffled your mewls. "Think you can cum for me? Think you can cum 'round my fingers?"

You hummed against his hand, hips meeting the movements of his fingers. You were whimpering from the back of your throat continuously as the orgasm spread throughout your body, bubbling through your nerves as he ushered you closer and closer.

"Let go, baby, know you can," Ghost nudged the shape of his nose against your ear as he spoke, fingers to the knuckle inside you, and you whined out desperately. You came with a shunt and a shiver, cunt spasming around his fingers as you sobbed into the palm of his hand. "Atta girl, there you are. So good, baby. So good." He praised you, working you through the ripples of your orgasm.

You were breathing heavily against his hand when he retracted his other from your underwear. Carefully, he pulled his hand away from your mouth, too, stroking your face gently as you leaned back into him. He placed a couple of kissed on the angle of your jaw.

You could feel the hard imprint of his cock against the curve of your arse. You moved backwards, grinding against it, feeling his body stiffen behind you. He exhaled, letting a low fuck slip out of his mouth.

"Want you..." You whimpered, underwear cool and wet against your core, your blood pumping hot through your veins.

Once more, he placed kisses along your jaw and neck through the soft material of his balaclava. You turned your head to allow him better access, relishing in the warmth of his mouth ghosting across your sensitive skin.

"Not tonight," he muttered, and it sounded strained: as if he really, really wanted to. He continued to hold your hips, pressing you into him, keeping you secure on his lap. "You've been so good already, but not tonight. I think you need a bit more practise... maybe tomorrow I can give you another lesson."

You were nodding eagerly before he even finished the rest of his sentence.

•º•

The next day, you were sitting cross-legged on the couch, playing the guitar in the rec-room. The rest of the 141 had gathered, listening to you play a perfect rendition of Metallica's Nothing Else Matters.

After the final verse, Price, Soap and Gaz applauded you. You beamed, resting the guitar on your lap and thanking them. They noticed how hard you practised to learn the tune, and barraged you with a stream of compliments. After a little while, they left, leaving you in the rec-room with Ghost: sitting on the opposite couch, arm stretched across the back, watching you with glimmering eyes.

"You're amazing at that." He said, and you smiled nervously.

"I had an amazing teacher."

He scoffed, still looking at you dotingly. "Sure, but it was all you, pretty girl. The rest of the boys thought you did great."

You averted your eyes, suddenly bashful. When you looked back at him, his head was slightly cocked, analysing your expression. You mimicked the tilt of his head, and you knew then that he was smiling beneath his mask.

"I... I'd like to learn another song, if that's all right with you." You said, drumming your fingers lightly on the sleek wood of the guitar.

"Oh yeah?" He reclined on the couch, shifting his hips. You tried really hard to ignore the movement. "What song're you thinking of?"

You shrugged, biting your lip to hide a smile. "You can choose."

He stared at you for a moment, and you picked up the minuscule movement of his mask. He was smiling like an idiot beneath that stupid mask.

Then, he widened his legs, spreading them further. He pat one of his thighs, a couple of smacks to the solid muscle. "Come on then, pretty girl. I have a couple'a songs in mind."

•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•º•

[gamesetart]

when art finally caves on taking off the ring i feel like he waits for a date. wants it to still feel as romantic and sweet as possible, brings flowers. then after the gloves come off he’ll offer you one final fuck w patrick. but he has to be included

folks we have to BUILD UP to stuff like this where's the pining where's the tension--

it takes a while. it takes tashi breaking up with patrick for art to make a few decisions. he recognises both the urge to hurt patrick, and the desperate desire to get him back. because before he was tashi's boyfriend, he was art's best friend.

art knows how to have both, at least one last time. whatever happens after that will just have to happen.

he takes you out on a date. lavish, even by his standards; a giant bouquet of your favourite flowers, a restaurant on the water. the stars are shining. he wears a suit, you a gorgeous cocktail dress he'd bought for you. heels to match, too. the two of you have three courses, then he walks you all the way back to the dorms. to his door. and you think he'll kiss you sweetly and ask you to stay, but he doesn't. he opens the door and its like your heart falls out of your chest.

instead, you make direct eye contact with patrick fucking zweig.

you swallow. patrick greets you with a grin.

"i thought you might like to fuck him again," art says, the door closing behind him with a click. and it sounds so strange and vulgar in art's sweet tones, so foreign on his tongue. "since he was the best you've ever had, and all."

your heart twists. patrick told - of course patrick told. they're best friends. of fucking course patrick spilled as soon as he could. bragging rights.

"art-" you try, but he cuts you off.

"i figure you should have a reminder of where the benchmark is," art continues simply. "before it changes."

at this, patrick laughs. "don't get cocky, donaldson. you don’t wanna give her false hope."

you're putting the pieces together, slowly but surely. oh. that was why - the dinner, the dress, the suit. art's ready. and you're conflicted, because you wanted this, you always wanted it, but when on earth did he get so... cocky? is it just because patrick's in the room? is he peacocking for his best friends's benefit?

art watches patrick fuck you. and fuck really is the only good word for it. your face in the mattress, his hand on your hip, dragging you back to meet every one of his thrusts. patrick is rough and fast and dirty. he doesn't savour you like he should, art thinks. but then again, what would patrick know? you're art's girl. patrick's just a dick you cum around.

art knows better. art can show you better, he thinks. he eats you out the way you taught him, and some part of him is aware of patrick's taste mingling with yours as he does, and some worse, smaller part of him likes it. he preps you gently, even after you've already been stretched open nicely by patrick's cock.

and, right before he slides home, he pulls the ring off his hand. he places it on your middle finger - it's a little big, it hardly matters - and kisses you. you're his, as much as he is yours.

[sugairsstuff]

may i request general relationship headcanons for both astarion and cardan greenbriar (separate) 🥺💕 i love them both sm and it’s great to find a blog that writes for both!

it’s double trouble with this pair! i’d love to give you some fuel for your fire <3 here’s some things i think about haha, i hope you enjoy!

also i kept it sfw because i wasn’t sure!

relationship headcanons

astarion ancunín and cardan greenbriar

warnings: very brief sexual mentions

(credit to @cafekitsune for the divider)

astarion ancunín 💫

🌙you and astarion share playful banter. a lot. naturally, he’s always the winner of your little battles of wits- or so he claims- but you both leave each other laughing by the end of your back and forth teasing. it’s another way for you two to flirt with each other apart from the more traditional ways.

🌙of course, your relationship doesn’t involve sexual intimacy for however long of a time, if ever, astarion needs. but that doesn’t mean you two don’t enjoy holding each other close. after the first hug you two shared, you become able to coax him into your arms time and time again late at night when the rest of your companions are sleep (because how dare they see him get all sappy and soft, of course), engulfing your gentle lover in the warmth his body lacks. neither of you need to speak, most of the time preferring to enjoy each other’s company quietly, listening to whatever idle ambience is stirring about beyond your tent’s walls- whether that be rustling bushes in a breeze, the rushing water of river or cave, or the hoot of an owl.

🌙it’s these moments that ground you both. those quiet ones, where nothing is said but you both hear what the other is trying to anyway. astarion is both an elf and a vampire, his body doesn’t need to sleep, but he still finds his eyelids growing heavy alongside yours as you two remain tangled together, his head resting against your chest as your fingers sleepily stroke those springy cotton curls atop his head. it’s only from gale’s babbling one day that astarion learns that people feel sleepy around those they feel safe around, and that thought crosses his mind a lot whenever he gazes at you from across camp.

🌙and when he’s not thinking of these sappy, heart wrenching thoughts, he’s (im)patiently waiting for you to forget whomever you are oh so busy with and come pay attention to him- especially if it’s gale. sorry gale.

🌙his eyes are almost always searching for you, too. and yours for him, as well. whether it’s him peering up from his book just to see you stride into camp after another one of your silly little heroic side quests (or murder sprees, if you’re dark urge), or in the midst of battle ensuring you’re not caught in the cross fire- and if you are, you best bet this rogue is sweeping in to give you back up. he does remember you once told him that if he had your back, you’d have his, too. astarion learned this meant a lot more than just protecting each other from enemies as his relationship with you progressed, finding that you two could lean on each other in emotional times of back-up, too. being so vulnerable started off difficult with him, but he reminds himself that you mean safety, you mean love, and you mean happiness to him- and these reminders help him show you those pieces of him he thought cazador buried long ago.

🌙we all know astarion is not shy when it comes to his words, but once you two become something real this act of his is broken down noticeably. don’t expect him to not crack a dirty joke, though, but do notice how- since having you at his side- he has less of a tendency to flaunt himself like a preening peacock, he becomes more comfortable with casual touching and non-sexual intimacy like mentioned before, and you even are able to render him speechless time to time with your kind, honest words to him.

🌙the kisses you two share are gentle and slow. kisses on the knuckles, wrists, cheeks, and nose before either one of you reach the other’s lips. they never last long, not long enough to tempt either one of you into something more, but they’re more than enough. your little butterfly kisses seem to settle themselves in your chests and beat their wings alongside your heart- and in astarion’s case, they beat in place of his.

🌙you two become nearly inseparable. while you were close when your relationship was just a friendship, now that it has evolved into something new, rare, and hell of a lot foreign you both can’t seem to get enough of each other. more often than not, when one of you is going out for some task, the other is close behind (and only the partner with the fanged teeth is dramatically complaining about having to go). as well, you notice that astarion begins to set up his tent closer to yours as your camp begins to change locations the closer to baldur’s gate the lot of you gets.

cardan greenbriar 🐍

🪷his tail subconsciously finds any available limb of yours- preferably coiling itself around your thigh, where it’s not noticeable enough to any who spares a meaningless glance in your direction but evident enough that someone properly looking at you would surely see. he would tell you it’s simply to give a message to wandering eyes, but that would be a half truth, as the subtle touch brings the prince turned king new blossoms within him- not the ones he bleeds, but rather those of comfort.

🪷 if you are a faerie, you most likely were apart of cardan’s friend group before he became a king, and knew him since longer. lounging about with him, locke, valerian, and nicasia, the young prince was disinterested in the rest and favoured bothering you. having to be around him so often made it difficult to ignore his clear attempts in getting under your skin, and so you eventually took it upon yourself to return the ‘favours’. and as you two spent more time together- time you both claimed you despised but in actuality you both sought it constantly- your relationship slowly grew into what it is now.

🪷 cardan would not love a hero, it is too late for such a character in his life. he does not need a person to peel away the walls he built around himself which have the words ‘the cruel prince’ carved into them. he’d rather love someone who instead saw what is beyond those walls, and take it selfishly for themself alone- he’d rather not share the sweeter sides of him with anyone but you, which means those walls must stay standing. he would fall in love with you for your ability to understand him, to not expect so much from the young prince, and he would fall in love not only with your virtues (as he would not love a villain, either) but also all your flaws that make you real.

🪷 perhaps that is why, if you are a human, he confuses his curiosity with disgust for you. humans, who live so imperfectly, so little, and yet so freely- creatures who do not look back before they jump because they do not have enough time to. people who live among the Folk and yet have no care for being good enough for them. and then cardan learned that he loved every single thing that made you human, every single thing about you that set you apart from those he was surrounded with- all equally as cruel and manipulative as him. every dimple, curve, scar, and line were all like breaths of fresh air for the forgotten prince.

🪷 either way, your love for each other crept up on both of you, until you both snapped and suddenly found your bodies entangled and lips interlocked as the world around you turned to a blur.

🪷 his kisses taste like fruity wine, only encouraging the dizziness you feel once he finally lets you escape his passionate embraces. and they have never been shy, and you have never cowered from them. he pulls you closer, you push closer, he kisses you hard, and you kiss him harder. you two challenge each other, relishing in each other’s playful competitiveness and bantering over who’s the better kisser.

🪷 for every important event cardan must hold as king of elfhame, you are there at his side. although the stubborn fae probably wouldn’t admit it, he wobbles beneath the heavy weight of the crown he didn’t even want, and still needs to learn to take these responsibilities seriously. you are his anchor, his partner in crime, the only second opinion he wants to hear- and also a good option for ruling in place of him when he slacks off.

🪷 if you are human, he tells you that you have somehow defied the laws of nature and glamoured him under your spell. he’s joking as usual, but there is really no other way he can explain the dizzying, storybook love he feels for you.

🪷 he will continue to bother you, tease you, and get under your skin even deep into your relationship. you learn that it stems from a desperate need to be seen and heard. you indulge him always, but not necessarily with snarky snips back all the time. whether you fight fire with fire or douse his with your water, the interactions are never serious and usually end in the two of you entangling your limbs together and lounging on some random velvet couch in an embrace.

[humanityinahandbag]

Steddie Modern AU: TikTok

Steve would absolutely be that guy who would not understand TikTok. He and Eddie are older by the time it comes out, and most of the content there is of young kids going completely buck wild. Steve of course disapproves, hands on his hips, huffing about no supervision these days even though he was absolutely a terror in high school.

Eddie, rock star that he is, gets it to an extent. "They're expressing themselves!" he'd say.

Steve would only shake his phone around and point aggressively to a video playing on loop of a young man dancing along to some new trendy song, trying his hardest to seem cool and popular. "This isn't expression," he'd say, mother hen voice at top volume. "This is them trying to peacock to the world!"

"You did that once, too, Stevie."

"Yeah, and I was a little shit!"

And so Steve, in an effort to curb the young teenage population and keep them from making his mistakes (mostly due to parental neglect and hopeless, crushing self deprivation), would start his own TikTok channel.

"Hey there," he says into the camera, because for all the pride around his good looks, he has zero clue how to record a video of himself. "My names Steve, and I've been noticing a bunch of you on here who are out of control! Listen to me, alright? You need to dial it back. All that shit in high school is completely null and void when you're an adult. Trust me. From a former popular asshole, there's better shit you could be doing. Now let me show you how to scramble an egg."

His videos mostly consist of simple lessons. Giving out little pieces of advice. Teaching them basic life skills he had to learn on his own. How to cook. How to clean. How to iron a polo shirt. How to style your hair. How to do laundry. How to do basic first aid.

He often becomes transparent, telling them about his own childhood.

Sometimes he brings Eddie into his videos.

"This is my husband's favorite," he says, by way of explanation as he shows TikTok how to make pasta sauce from scratch. "He used to eat spaghetti out of a can. A fucking can!"

Despite his posturing on stage, Eddie becomes shy whenever a camera is in his face, and ducks his head away, smiling quietly towards the camera. "It's not that bad," he says.

"Not that- The sodium in that could kill an elephant!" Steve laughs.

"Yeah, well... I don't want you doing too much for me."

"I like doing things for you."

Eddie flushes and ducks his head, hiding his face away behind a curtain of curls.

Steve leans over a kisses his temple, pushing him gently out of frame where he'll be more comfortable, before turning back to the camera. "Anyway, this recipe is great if you're on your own for long periods of time. Especially because you can freeze some for later. Now the trick here is garlic. Let me show you how to peel it without making a huge mess!"

It's a month later where Dustin shows up at their door and shoves his phone into Steve's face. "Why the fuck," he'd snap, "are you trending?"

It turns out, the tiny community that Steve had been lecturing to wasn't as small as he originally thought.

There are so many kids out there desperate for parental affection, and they look to Steve, feeding off his pride, his kindness, his stories, his advice. Not only that but the fact that they get to see a former bully, a former popular kid, a man who grew up from neglect, become someone happy and married?

That's just... so wonderful.

"I've been on TikTok from the beginning and I only have, like, two thousand followers."

"So what? I don't have that many."

"You've got three million, Steve," said Dustin. Steve was not expecting that, squinting at the phone screen in his face. "Three fucking million! People are stitching your videos saying you guys are their new dads," Dustin squawked. "How did you not know you were this popular!?"

"I didn't know how to check my follower count!" Steve said, sincerely. It wasn't like he actually checked the thing! He just enjoyed making videos.

"You're so old."

"Hey," said Eddie from the kitchen, "don't talk about your mother that way."

"Yeah!" agreed Steve. "Don't talk to me that way! Now get into my next video so I can introduce you to your three million siblings."

And that is why I firmly believe that, if given the chance, Steve (and subsequently, Eddie) would absolutely become the internet's favorite parental figure(s).

[the-corvid-prince]

Dionysus for Zialeska on Flight Rising

[ID: 2 versions of the same digital drawing, one with a dark blue background and one with a transparent background. the art shows an imperial dragon flying upwards. it has a brown body with swirls and golden wings dotted with peacock patterns. the dragon has ribbons wrapped around its wings and head, as well as grape vines growing around his wings. trees grow from his back framing his head, mushrooms grow from his shoulders. his head is surrounded by a golden halo]

This took 5 hours 😓 worth it though I love this piece

reblogs > likes

[pippin-katz]

Okay I noticed something during the Red Room scene after watching RWRB for the "who knows how many"-th time.

When they hit the wall, Alex puts his right hand on it:

But then they cut and it’s not there anymore:

Now, I’m not pointing this out as an "oh look an editing error" or anything because that’s something that happens in pretty much every movie ever made. Somebody’s hand or leg is in one position, they cut to another angle, and it’s in a slightly different position. It’s what happens when you’re editing together several different takes of the same scene.

Hell, quick and fun tangent, feel free to skip ahead to where the text changes back to the normal color, but there’s a sequence in Clue, the movie, where Wadsworth, the butler, is retelling the events of the evening in very specific detail and reenacting it. This is a fantastic example of a moment where a very attentive viewer can see into the behind the scenes, and remember that when filming movies, they always do multiple takes of a scene, even if nothing went wrong; there’s only very unique circumstances where they film a scene and the entirety of the very first take is used.

Earlier, Mrs. Peacock freaks out because they think there might have been poison in the drink, and Mr. Green slaps her in the throat to stop her from screaming:

GIF from here.

After he hits her, he says this:

GIF from here.

When Wadsworth reenacts it later, he says the same line:

GIF from here.

Notice that he’s accurately in character as Mr. Green, but he makes the gesture to push his “glasses” back up, which Mr. Green didn’t do. Tim Curry went through great lengths for this very long sequence to get all the little details right. The only reason he would do that would be if he did push his glasses up, but it was in a different take. That take wasn’t used in the final cut of film, but they had to have filmed a version of the scene where Mr. Green pushed his glasses back up, and Tim Curry copied it because he wouldn’t have been able to predict which version of the scene they would use, and that’s a specific detail he wouldn’t want to miss if they used that take.

In the easiest and perfect scenario, they pick the best take of each shot and splice them together, but sometimes they use multiple takes of one of the shots and use different pieces of them. Maybe the delivery of one line was better in one take, but another line was better in the other. If there's going to be a cut between those lines, they can cut out the line delivery they liked the best and splice into whatever take they're using the most of.

This is common knowledge, but I'm covering it just in case someone is completely unfamiliar with how films are made.

When the camera angle changes during a sequence, it doesn’t mean that they filmed up until that point, stopped and repositioned the cameras and the actors, and then continued. They set up a camera for one of the shots, they run through the scene start-to-finish, and once they have several good takes to choose from, they move the camera position to the next angle, and shoot the scene start-to-finish again. Sometimes they can knock out more than one angle at once if the cameras won’t get each other in the shot.

For example, scenes like Alex and Henry talking on the couch, in the cafe, on the phone on the bed, basically almost any scene where they’re looking directly at each other, has to be shot from at least two angles separately, at least if they want to show us both of their faces throughout the scene. If they filmed both of them at once, you would see the other camera in the background behind the actors.

In the case of the kissing in the Red Room, there's three cuts, until the end when Amy walks in. I'm talking specifically about from Alex grabbing him up to the shot right before Amy walks in.

So starting there, we have the first shot:

Then the first cut:

Then the second cut:

Then the third cut:

Then Amy walks in:

Now, cameras do move and/or zoom during most shots, even if it's a barely noticeable. For example, there is no cut while Alex crosses the room; the camera moves with him. It also rotates/pans a bit once they start backing towards the wall to keep that shot connected up until the first cut.

Based on the angle, the framing, and their positions, I'm pretty sure these two are from the same shot/camera position, possibly the same take, with the close-up spliced in:

Even if they aren't from the same take, I'm fairly sure, like I said before, that they ran through the scene start-to-finish with this camera blocking, and that these are both from that blocking, even if the second one seems slightly different. It's really hard to be 100% sure, but when I watch them side-by-side, their positions seem to line up. If you map out their starting point and ending point, and the gap of time where the close-up is, it feels like enough time and movement for them to get from A to B in one shot had the camera not cut.

But the camera does cut, which leads me back to here:

The camera angle alone is a big indicator that they cut together multiple takes. I can't be positive, but I'm pretty sure that they couldn't have filmed this angle at the same time as the main shot.

I think about these sorts of things while watching movies; it's something I can't turn off in my brain. I'm hyperaware of the cinematography. I notice it, and thoughts/questions just bounce around in the back of my head.

Like if I was watching this for the first time, excluding all the internal screaming that would've been occurring, I would have probably thought: "Oh hey, that was a big camera change! They probably filmed this separately!"

But it's so brief and subconscious that I would've had the thought without those words actually forming in my head, does that make sense? It's like there's a little version of me chilling in my brain with a clipboard that writes interesting things down while the rest of me is screaming. He's just chilling, taking notes, and I can feel when he writes something down, even if I can't process it in the moment. Does that make any sense?? Whatever, it doesn't actually matter lmfao

What I'm saying is, while the camera change suggests the use of multiple takes being edited together, Alex's hand on the wall 100% confirms it, since it's not in the same position when they cut between the angles.

Which FINALLY brings me to my POINT!

Everything I went over essentially just proves that this shot:

-is from it's own, separate take than the other shots.

And as I explained, they typically run a scene start-to-finish several times from each angle, which is why there's this variation. With choreography like this that's meant to be spontaneous and aggressive is impossible to perfectly recreate each time. It happens too fast, and their characters are so wrapped up in the moment that they're just grabbing and touching each other however they can, so there is going to be variation between the takes in what they do with their hands or exactly how they kiss.

WHICH MEANS

It is very possible that there's a version/take of this sequence of events from the other angle where Alex's hand is on the wall, and he is half pinning Henry against the wall for this interaction.

His hand is in the classic "hands on either side of their partner's head while kissing against a wall" position that basically traps them against the wall and the person they're with.

So there's possibly a version of this shot:

-with Alex's hand pinning Henry against the fucking wall, before he lifts him onto the table.

And I want to fucking see it.

Update: If you enjoyed this essay & would like to support me, you can give me a tip on my Ko-Fi! ☺️

[twisted-wonderland-shenanigans]

Twisted Monsterland: Messy Toddlers

Little kids can always cause a mess, whether it’s with paint, markers, food, or dirt and mud. It’s a fact of life, and while a hassle to clean up, it can be fun!

So what happens when you have a tiny human living amongst the monsters in Twisted Wonderland who tends to get messy? How about we take a look at some of the dorms and see!

//At Savanaclaw//

Mini!Yuu: *playing in a mud puddle, singing random things as they smoosh and stir the mud with their hands*

Grim: “What’cha doin’, Yuu?”

Mini!Yuu: “Makin’ mud pies for everyone!” *pulls out clumps of grass before sprinkling it over the mud pile* “Time to add the sprinkles~!”

Grim: “What a waste of perfectly good grass…”

Ruggie: *walking up to the two* “There you are, Bugaboo. What’cha playing with this time?”

Mini!Yuu: “I made a mud pie!” *scoops up the pile, globs falling onto their clothing as they hold it up to him* “Try some!”

Ruggie: “Oooh, looks pretty tasty.” *pretends to get a piece and chews, grinning as he gives a thumbs up*”"Mmm…perfect blend of flavors, though you might wanna ease up on the seasoning. Shishishishi~!”

Mini!Yuu: “Hooray!”

Ruggie: “Wouldja look at the time? It’s almost time for you to head back to the teachers, and you’re a mess.” *hoists them into his arms* “Come on, it’s bath time.”

//At Diasomnia//

Mini!Yuu: *playing with finger paints on a canvas*

Lilia: “I’ll be right back, little one. Silver? Would you keep an eye on the little one while I’m gone?”

Silver: “Of course, father.”

*ten minutes later*

Lilia: “I’m back.” *pauses before snorting, smiling at the sight of Silver asleep on the couch with paint on his face and tusks* “My, my. Had I known you needed a bigger canvas, I could have gotten a white tarp for the floor.” *glances over at Malleus before bursting out laughing* “Oh! It looks like you two are having fun.”

Malleus: *sitting nearby with mini!Yuu standing on his lap, painting his horns with bright colorful flowers* “The Child of Man wished to do face painting.”

Mini!Yuu: *has paint on their face that looks like scales and sticky fake stones on their forehead like Malleus’* “I’m making Mr. Horns feel pretty!”

Lilia: “So you are, little one. And what are you supposed to be?”

Mini!Yuu: “Silver made me look like a dragon, just like Mr. Horns! Rawr!”

Lilia: “And a mighty little dragon you are~!”

//At Pomefiore//

Mini!Yuu: *scribbling on a wall in the hallway with a pen they found, singing a happy song as they’re drawing swirls*

Epel: *comes across Yuu and yelps* “Yuu, no! What are you doing?!”

Mini!Yuu: *startled* “Drawing?”

Epel: “Oh no…oh no, Vil is going to throw a fit if he sees this!”

Vil: “If I see…what?”

Epel: “Ack!?”

Rook: “Ooh, it looks like mon chou is showing their creative spirit!”

Mini!Yuu: *nervously looks between the wall and Vil’s stern stare* “Am…I in trouble?”

Vil: *hums for a moment before kneeling down, pulling out his own pen* “Your form is good, though perhaps we can add a little something to this one.”

Mini!Yuu: “What?”

Vil: “I’m thinking…leaves would be a good start.” *begins drawing, creating beautiful shapes following the swirl that get bigger and bigger* “What else should we add to it?”

Mini!Yuu: “Mmm…flowers!”

Vil: “Very well. Will you help me draw them?”

Epel: *staring wide eyed between them and Rook as the two continue drawing, leaning in to whisper to Rook* “Am…am I dreaming? Vil would have gone bonkers if any of us ruined the walls!”

Rook: “Ah, but why stifle the creativity of our little mon chu when they are clearly expressing their individuality? Even Roi du Poison sees the beauty in this.” *goes to kneel next to them, pulling out his own pen* “May I join in?”

Epel: “…huh.”

(Later, the art is still on the wall, a mix of child-like drawings mixed with elegant and fun pictures depicting rabbits, apples, and a peacock)

//At Heartslabyul//

Mini!Yuu: *sitting on a stool, watching Trey mixing dough into balls for bread and trying to mimic him with their own ball of dough*

Trey: “Oh, I need to get the butter out of the fridge. Sit tight, okay?” *dusts hands off and goes over to the fridge*

Mini!Yuu: *hums as they look at the one they’re working on* “Mmm…needs more flour!” *reaches for the bag of flour, trying to lift it up*

POMF!!

Mini!Yuu: *coughs as they’re covered in flour, the bag on the ground and the counter coated in flour*

Trey: “Huh?? Pfft…I should have known something like this would happen.” *reaches out to pat away some of the dusty flour* “Guess when we’re finished baking, it’s bath time again.”

//----------//

That’s all I can think of off the top of my head, but these are just some cute things that came to mind~

The Pomefiore part was actually based on this one post I came across, though I could only find the pictures. While I had initially thought of it happening at Heartslabyul or even Scarabia…I just got soft thinking of Vil indulging mini!Yuu and helping to create good art QvQ/)