#and then the drawing at the very bottom is from

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask me for anything ever again

[rcmclachlan]

Thin Red Line (bucktommy, 6x11 missing scene)

Me: I'm rewatching "In Another Life" and had a thought. What if Buck met Tommy during his coma dream?

@dadvans: RC I’m going to kill you

+

Between leaving Christopher to wander the hospital hallways like a ghost in search of Eddie for all eternity and doing absolutely nothing to stop Bobby from popping pills like they’re Flintstones vitamins, Buck’s going to single-handedly bankroll every renovation project Dr. Copeland has over the next ten years. 

He wonders what she’ll say when he tells her about this during their next session. She’ll probably just sit back thoughtfully and muse, "You say you were trapped in a world where your biological family loved you but your chosen family had no idea who you were. Tell me more about that, Evan."

It's a moot point unless he manages to get out of here, so he swings the axe up, throws a sneer in his evil doppelgänger's direction, and is about to bring it down as hard as he can when his right arm is suddenly jerked behind him like someone’s trying to pull it out of the socket. 

Startled, he whirls around, but there’s no one there. Even Bizarro Buck is gone. 

An odd pressure tugs at his fingers. For a second, he thinks there’s something wrapped around them. He looks down but he can’t see anything. He can feel it, though. He tests the tensile strength of it by bouncing his hand back and forth, and whatever it is pulls taut when his hand gets close to his body. 

It reminds him of playing tug-o-war on the playground as a kid, except instead of deliberately allowing himself to be yanked off balance so his parents could later fuss over the bloody state of his knees, he begins gathering the palpable nothing in his palm and, with a last look at the tableau of the real him lying in the hospital bed waiting to die, follows it out of the room and back down the hall. 

He comes to a stop in front of a door that looks like all the others. He must’ve missed this one, although he can’t feel dumb about it, because there’s no way in hell he would’ve guessed this was the exit. 

"Take me home," Buck murmurs, opens the door, and walks out—

—onto an outdoor patio. 

He drops his head back with a groan. "Oh, come on."

With the wicker chairs and mind-numbingly navy umbrellas, it looks like every cafe’s outdoor seating situation in the state of California, right down to the almost oppressive number of ferns in beige planters shoved in between the tables. The only difference is that the place is completely empty. 

Correction: almost empty. 

Through the crush of the basic bitch jungle, he sees a solitary man seated at one of the tables, idly running sliding a to-go cup from side to side with his big hands. As he draws a little closer, he’s able to clock the guy’s deep blue flight suit and what looks like the LAFD insignia on his arm.

Everyone who’s made an appearance in this coma dream has been someone he’s known. Even Daniel, who died before Evan ever met him, still made something stir with some kind of primordial recognition in Buck’s marrow the second he woke up and clapped eyes on him. He took in the gray hair at high temples, at his and Maddie’s nose, at the confident smile, and knew they were brothers.

Buck has no idea who this guy is. He’s pretty sure he’d remember someone who looked like he bench presses actual benches in the morning and rushes off to be photographed for Men’s Health by lunch. 

As Buck comes up to the edge of the table, the man looks up at him, and the light of the sun catches his eyes. For a second, Buck’s back on the pier, gazing out into a cloudless sky stretched over the sea, but there’s no inhale of the earth, no oncoming wave. Just deep, Pacific blue. A slow smile spreads across the guy’s face, which takes him from unfairly handsome to utterly striking. 

"Hey."

A shiver starts from the very bottom tip of Buck’s spine and travels upwards like ripples on the surface of a lake, spreading out into all of his limbs until he can feel the eddies lapping at even the smallest arteries. For no cogent reason he can think of, his resting heart rate picks up until he’s flirting with full-on tachycardia. Maybe he’s about to code in the real world.

"H-Hey," Buck stutters, feeling caught out. "I—sorry, I’m—I’m a little turned around here."

The man gives him a look that’s both amused and commiserating, then picks up the drink cup he’d been playing table hockey with and holds it out. There's something thin and red tied around his ring finger, but Buck can't concentrate on it for some reason. It fades completely out of view every time he tries. "Want a sip? It’s the worst thing you’ll ever taste."

It's said around what is clearly a laugh, but Buck doesn't feel like it's at his expense, plus it's so infectious that he can’t help but crack a grin. The muscles in his back, which feel like they've been locked for days, are finally starting to relax.

“If it’s so gross, why’d you get it?” Buck asks, genuinely curious.

The guy shrugs. "I didn't."

Nodding as if that makes any kind of sense, Buck looks around to see if the ferns are hiding anyone else, but it really does seem like there's no one else here. He turns back to the man, who's watching him with that deep, placid gaze. 

It's so strange. He'd been so desperate to find a way out of here, psyching himself up for a battle he was prepared to fight to the death in, but all he wants to do right now is grab the chair across from this stranger and just… let the clock run out.

He reaches for the back of the chair closest to him, but it jerks away with a screech. 

The guy unhooks his foot from the chair leg and, staring straight into Buck's eyes, shakes his head gently. 

Buck swallows around a suddenly dry throat. Under his feet, the patio stones tremble. "D-Do I know you?"

When the man smiles this time, the corners of his eyes crinkle, digging lines that run down his cheeks. Buck thinks of the picture Jee-Yun gave him last week of a beaming sun. She'd drawn deep yellow lines coming off it. Sun rays. 

"No," the man says, his voice as warm as a crayon drawing made with unconditional love. "Not yet."

He lifts his hand and this time Buck can see the little red string tied around his finger, and the long tail of the other end of it draped over the table top, which Buck follows the trail of, heart pounding, until it comes to a stop. He looks down to find the other end is tangled around the fingers of his right hand. 

When he looks up, shaking and exhilarated, there's a door in the middle of the patio that swings open in obvious invitation. 

The man is no longer at the table, but there are suddenly lips at his ear. "See you soon, Evan."

Before he can close his eyes and sink into the hot wash of breath over his cheek, a large hand slides up to the middle of his back and shoves—

+

Buck knows he's being an absolute creep and Eddie won't stop giving him weird looks about it, but he can't help it. The pilot who's about to steal a helicopter for them has been nothing but friendly and confident, and he's currently wiring Buck up to his headset with brisk, competent hands, and all Buck can do is stare at him like he's got tonight's winning lottery numbers. 

Tom Kinard—"Tommy, please. Tom is my father, who I hate."—looks up from where he's bent a little at the knees, trying to get the microphone adapter to hook into Buck's belt, and shoots Buck an awkward grin. 

"Is there a spider in my hair or something?"

He hadn't realized how much tension he was putting into the air until Tommy cut through it with that. Buck ducks his head and laughs, feeling like a dumbass. "Sorry, man. It's just—do I know you from somewhere? You look so familiar."

"Maybe I just have one of those faces," Tommy says, all good humor.

For Men's Health, maybe, Buck almost replies, then has to clench his teeth so it doesn't slip out by accident. What a weird thought to have. With his luck, Tommy would've taken it the wrong way and then abandoned the mission altogether. But even thinking it feels like a lie. Buck's known the guy for all of five minutes but he's oddly sure Tommy wouldn't leave them in the lurch because Buck feels the need to share every weird thought that crosses his mind. 

"All right." Tommy stands up straight and steps back, but not before he gives Buck a friendly pat on the arm. "You're good to go."

Feeling oddly bereft, Buck says nothing as Tommy steps around him to where Chimney's been not so patiently waiting for his turn. 

"Sorry about him," Chim says, jerking a head in Buck's direction. "He was struck by lightning last year and hasn't been the same since. I mean, he was always annoying, but now he's just weird."

Buck deserves an Oscar for the fake outrage in his voice when he shoots back, "The view must be great from your glass house, Mr. I'm Dressing My Kid Up As A Ceiling Fan For Halloween," because the rest of him feels like he's in a tailspin. Every atom in his body is positively screaming for some reason. It's probably because they're all going to die. That makes the most sense.

When Tommy laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkle. 

Sun rays, Buck thinks nonsensically, and tangles the headset wire around the fingers of his right hand. 

[troublesomesnitch]

Rimming Aemond - Drabble

Aemond x Maid!Reader - Quick smutty drabble

The way he was bent so beautifully over that table - I couldn't help it, I had to write this little thing.

Contents: eating Aemond's ass, plain and simple. Be warned, this is graphic, and I was hardcore blushing when I wrote it.

Words: 1600

Tensions are high within the castle as the crown prepares for war. High among its serving staff; high among its guards. High among the royals who walk its gilded halls. And high within the one-eyed prince, for even if he would never admit it, the stresses weigh on him as much as on everyone else. 

He has always been demanding, your prince, but now more so than ever he is difficult. Quick to anger, less forgiving if your work is not to his satisfaction. Rougher when he fucks you in secret, holding you down and snapping his hips hard against yours, using you as little more than a vessel for release and replenishment. 

You do not like it very much, this roughness to his touch, at least not every time. But you dutifully turn up whenever he sends for you - always under a suitable pretense, of course. Sheets need changing, floor needs sweeping. He wants water. He wants wine. Tonight he asked for figs, and they lie beautifully arranged on a golden plate, untasted and untouched as he devours your mouth instead. 

Even his kisses are rougher now, hungry for something your body cannot give him. Battle. Blood. He moans into your mouth when you bite his lip, as eager as always, running his hands over your bottom and down the back of your thighs. About to lift you up with ease, hoist you onto the table and take you right there and then - 

“No,” you exclaim, squirming in his arms and pushing lightly against his chest. “Not tonight.” 

Prince Aemond is an honourable man in some regards. Although clearly dismayed, he releases you with a quiet sigh, stepping back to let you catch your breath and hopefully explain this very sudden change of heart. If you want him in a different way - or not at all. 

“Well?” he demands, tapping his fingers impatiently on the back of a chair. 

“Bend over,” you breathe. 

The prince is not used to taking orders. Not from anyone, and most certainly not from you. His brows draw together in a frown right away, displeasure written all over his face. A maid should never speak to a prince in such a way. Even if he is her lover.

 But when he opens his mouth to scold you, you beat him to it. 

“Go on then. Bend over.” 

You can see that he is sorely tempted to dismiss you for your insolence, or at the very least punish you in some sort of way. But his curiosity wins over, and he does turn around to lay himself across the table, helped along by the push of your hand between his shoulder blades. On his stomach, resting on his elbows. A position most unfit for someone of his standing, especially a man, and you are quick to place yourself behind him, reaching around to slip a hand down his trousers and wrap it around his swollen cock. Make sure that he is nice and hard, too aroused to be prideful. It is a risky endeavour, this thing you have in mind, and you want him wanting and pliant, far enough gone that he will not resist. The way he gets when he is just about to come, and you are quite sure that he would pluck the sapphire straight from his socket and offer it to you, if only to be allowed to finish in your mouth. 

“Does it feel good?” you whisper, low and sultry, hiding a smile against his back when he murmurs yes. 

Really, you are only buying yourself time, gathering up your courage, but he doesn’t know that. He only feels the way you stroke his cock, and the way your other dainty hand slithers in between his legs to massage his balls too, the way he likes it. Cupping and fondling, squeezing almost a little too hard. 

But when he starts to pant, you release him. Which makes him give a dissatisfied groan.

“Wait,” you breathe, fumbling with the closure of his breeches. Swiftly tugging them down, before finally kneeling to the floor so that your face is at level with your intended destination. His smooth, naked arse. 

Slowly and gently, you run your hands up the back of his legs. Giving a squeeze to his thigh, and a soft exhale onto his skin - a warning before you press your whole face against his backside. The prince tenses at once, shifting his upper body to turn towards you, to object, tell you no - but he cuts himself off with a gasp when the tip of your tongue swipes between his buttocks. 

The scent and taste of him is heavy and warm, neither pleasant nor unpleasant, but enticing in its own strange way. You are careful at first, pressing your tongue against the place where his skin starts to pucker, flicking it slowly up and down, never quite touching his opening. Only feeling his tender skin. Soft, and hot, and dusted with little hairs that tickle your mouth, much like the hair on his balls, only even more downy.  The prince grunts out a husky fuck, and he reaches back to grip onto your hair, tangling his fingers in it, not quite sure if he wants to push your head away, or press it closer. 

It is all the encouragement you need. You lap at him eagerly, moving your tongue in circles around the rim of his opening, with little concern for modesty, or propriety, or when he last bathed. It is wonderfully lewd, wonderfully filthy; not only to expose this most intimate part of him, but to press your mouth to it and taste it, hear how he gasps, feel how he tightens with each of your licks. Both the muscles in his shapely thighs, and the one you can feel pulsing under your tongue. 

You imagine you must be the very first woman to ever pleasure him this way. Likely the last as well, for when he marries, his wife will be a noble lady, and you do not believe a lady would ever demean herself with such an act.

With you it is different. You are naught but a common girl, a simple chambermaid. It is an honour and a privilege for you, being allowed to wait upon the prince. Change his bedsheets, scrub ink stains from his floors. Plunge your tongue into his royal arse. 

He groans unabashedly from it now, legs trembling and fingers gripping the carved edges of the table, his knuckles turning white as you clamp your hands onto his buttocks to spread them apart. So you can delve in deeper, press your tongue flat against his hole and lick it, alternating between slow drags and quick, teasing flicks. Delighting in the way it makes him moan. Only very briefly do you draw back to catch your breath, and to have a quick, indecent look at his backside; at his firm, supple buttocks and the area in between, where the skin is sinfully darker, and now glistening with your spit. And at his little puckered hole, which unsurprisingly is as beautiful as every other part of him. Rosy pink in colour, and framed by wispy white hairs. It twitches with anticipation as you lean in again, pressing your tongue against it, this time breaching him with the very tip. Making a violent shudder run through his body. 

"Fuck," he groans, releasing your head, his hand disappearing underneath the table to grasp his own cock and stroke it. 

You have never before felt him tremble like this, never heard such wanton moans from him as just now. He shamelessly thrusts his arse backwards, wanting your tongue deeper, wanting it more, wanting it to touch that tender, throbbing place inside him - you know there is a spot within a man’s behind that gives him pleasure, as you have heard other girls giggle and blush when they spoke of it. From what you understand, it would be too far to reach with one’s tongue, but there are other ways to make use of it, and that is what you aim for instead. 

Slipping your hand in between his legs, you push gently against that soft bit of flesh beneath his balls, holding your hand still, just letting him feel the warm pressure from your fingers. It makes him moan, and you can feel how he is throbbing everywhere; in your hand, in his arse, in the back of his knees. Soon you feel the first little spasms of his rapture too; his legs tensing, his balls pulling tight against his body, heavy and full, desperate for release. 

When he spurts, he collapses flat onto the table, unable to support his own weight, shaking and moaning uncontrollably. His hole tightens rhythmically around your tongue, twitching and contracting with pleasure, and you find yourself wondering if this is how your insides feel around his cock when he fucks you - if so, you can certainly see why he is so eager for it. 

Afterwards, he is quick to wipe his hand clean and pull his trousers back up. You expect him to dismiss you right away, but instead he reaches out to absentmindedly stroke your hair, for once at a loss for words. His face full of disgust at what has just transpired - but also sweaty and blushed from how much he enjoyed it.   

“You should rinse your mouth,” he finally grumbles, sternly and coolly, his upper lip curling over his teeth.

You hold back a little smile when you curtsy. 

“Would that be all, My Prince?”

“Yes,” he says, straightening his back, squaring his shoulders, lifting his chin to its usual haughty position. “That would be all.” 

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

No tags, because the subject matter might not be to everyone's taste...

[arvandus]

Learning Moment - Satan x AFAB!Reader (18+)

CW: 18+ NSFW; reader has female anatomy, but no gender-specific terms used and no gender-specific clothing; early stages of a relationship; use of a vibrator; mutual masturbation (with toy and without); fingering; no pet names, no use of MC or Y/N. Satan is unfamiliar with human world gadgets 😆; slight differences in human vs. demon male anatomy but nothing pearl-clutching. Not proofread, this already got away from me enough as it is...

WC: 3,858

"What is this?"

You turn around and freeze when you see your boyfriend holding up your vibrator between thumb and forefinger. His brow is furrowed, aqua eyes staring at the thing with confusion.

"Where did you find that??" you demand.

He glances at you, his neutral gaze taking note of your obvious discomfort. "It was under your blanket."

Shit. Shit, shit, shit... you thought you'd put it away...

You reach out to grab it from him, but Satan retracts his arm, holding the object higher and out of your reach.

"Give it to me!" you demand, your face growing hotter with each passing second.

"Tell me what it is, first."

"It's nothing!" you exclaim. "Just some... earth thing. It's not important."

"Really?" Satan turns his back to you and holds it closer to his face for inspection, his hands turning the object over and over. "Then why are you so keen on getting it back?"

"B-because!" you reply defensively. "It's... personal!"

But Satan half ignores you as he sniffs it. "It smells like you..." he half turns to look over his shoulder at you, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Do you use this to pleasure yourself?"

"WHA-" you freeze, eyes wide and hands shaking. You clench them before covering your face.

You want to die, to stop existing this very instant. Let a hole open up and swallow you whole...

Satan's eyes widen at your reaction, and he lets out a gentle chuckle. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about... I just want to know what it is."

Your words are muffled by your hands. "Come on, you really don't know? You have to be teasing me."

"We have sex toys, but there are some differences between our world and yours." He talks about it so casually, all the while his eyes grazing over the smooth surface, eyeing the size. "Ours are... bigger."

His tone holds a hint of concern, his eyebrows furrowed.

"They're not all like this," you say defensively. "Some of ours are big. This just... isn't one of them."

"But you enjoy this one?" Satan asks.

"Why do you sound so worried??" you ask.

"Of course I'm worried!" he huffs, his cheeks flushing pink. "If this is the size that you like, then we might have a problem when we finally..."

Your eyes widen in understanding. "OH." Then you repeat the word, drawing it out as the pieces fall into place. "Ohhh...."

Your humiliation subsides and you cross your arms over your chest. "That's not... I mean, it can be, but it's more about what it does."

Satan's eyes widen in curiosity and he stares at the object in his hand. "What does it do?"

He shakes it a little and pokes at it, hoping to activate whatever spell he thinks makes it work.

You bite your lower lip in amusement. "You, uh..." - you wiggle your finger at it in a circular motion - "have to turn the bottom... like a dial..."

Satan turns it over in his hand and turns the black base. It immediately begins vibrating in his hand and he jumps slightly, before his eyes widen even further in understanding.

"It's called a vibrator," you explain. "You put it on the, uh... the clitoris, and uh... yeah."

Satan's mouth curles into a small half smirk. "Yeah, I figured that much out... I'm not exactly a virgin, you know."

You put your hands up in playful defense. "Hey, I never said you were... but maybe demon and human anatomy is different for all I know."

It wasn't like you'd gotten very far yet with him to find out... you always managed to get interrupted whenever things got steamy in his room or yours.

Satan gives you a side glance that makes your spine melt. "We're not."

He states it so matter-of-factly, that it has you biting your lip to stifle a whimper.

"Hmm," he hums as he looks back at the still-vibrating toy. "I'm always impressed by human ingenuity. Our toys can do these sorts of things too, but it's different. More spells and chemical reactions, pheromones and aphrodisiacs."

Satan finally pulls his attention away from the vibrator, and puts it entirely, completely on you, aqua eyes trapping you like sunlight beneath the water.

"Show me," he says.

It's a statement, but feels like a question, the way it always does with him. He's always been direct, and yet he always leaves you room to refuse.

But even so, you blanch, your brain left lightheaded as the blood drains from it to pool low in your stomach.

"W-What?" you stutter.

Satan turns off the device and steps forward to hand it to you, closing the distance between you in the same move. What little air remains between you feels electric.

"Show me," he repeats. "I'd like to see how it's meant to be used."

There's a momentary lapse of silence as your brain glitches on what he's asking of you. Your mouth opens and closes a few times before you finally find your voice, hiding behind the dry lump in your throat.

"W-what? Why? You pretty much already know..."

Satan keeps his eyes on you as he takes your hand and turns it palm up to place the vibrator into it, the cold plastic warmed by his touch.

"Being told and witnessing it are two different things," he explains, eyes dark and cheeks flushed. "If this brings you pleasure, then I want to learn about it."

He puts his forehead to yours as his arms wrap around your waist affectionately. "Please," he adds quietly.

Satan, you realize, can be very persuasive when he wants to be... it's not a side others usually see, but then again...

He's not exactly trying to get into anyone else's pants.

You let out a short laugh. "Okay."

Satan's lips curl into a pleased smile.

"But..." you continue. "...you have to kiss me."

Satan's smile widens, and he tucks the knuckle of his finger beneath your chin to bring you closer. "Whatever you want."

He kisses you, softly at first, gently as he always does as if he's afraid he'll hurt you. His tongue draws against your lips, wet and warm, and you open your mouth to him, letting him in.

Every nerve was already awake and waiting, ever since he asked those two simple yet insane words.

Show me.

But now the nerves are singing like a siren's call, luring you into drowning in the presence of him.

Your arms wrap around his neck, and his arms pull you against him, his fingers splayed across your back and caressing in soothing strokes.

As he kisses you, he turns you so your bed is behind you, and begins to walk your backwards. You don't fall back when your thighs touch it... Satan's arms around you keep you against him, as he lowers you gently into the soft bedding.

You scoot back towards your pillows as you lead him into your bed with your mouth, your hands, your legs opening to make room for him.

Satan settles himself between your parted thighs, the denim of his jeans pressing against your own. The pressure is enough to pull a moan from your lips, and Satan responds with a hum to match, as his body covers yours.

Each movement and transition between you is fluid, carried on a tide of longing that neither of you have had the opportunity to fully pursue. Your leg hooks around the back of his thigh automatically, your hips beginning to roll to a rhythm your body demands. Satan's mouth leaves yours to plant wet open-mouth kisses down the curve of your jaw and into the soft pulse of your neck as your head tilts back. Your mouth is parted as breathy gasps bloom from your chest and your fingers tangle themselves into his golden strands. Satan groans, his hand trailing the side of your body from thigh to breast, his hand slipping beneath your shirt to cup the warm, soft flesh--

"Aren't you supposed to show me something?"

He's whispered the words against your neck, and they bury themselves into the small indents left by his teeth.

You suck air into your lungs, your wide eyes staring at the ceiling. You can't seem to find your voice, your thoughts far too muddled beneath the pleasure you feel.

You feel the weight of him leave your body, the cold air rushing in to take its place, and suddenly he's in your field of view.

He's gorgeous, chaotic. Hair tousled messily, a tainted golden halo. His irises are nearly drowned out by black pupils that spark with latent, electric magic. His lips glisten wet, his canines slightly sharper than you remember them, and he's smiling down at you, cheeks flushed in the color of affection, skin lightly sheened in the sweat of desire.

Satan has one hand braced into the mattress to hold his weight as he hovers, while his other slowly slides down beneath your shirt, his touch hot against your skin. Down, down, over your ribs, covering your belly, and now he's at the boundary of your jeans, his single hand working apart the button. It sticks, the denim unyielding, and he glances down at it with a glare.

"Curse this thing..." he growls. You giggle, and finally it comes undone, and he's returning his eyes to your face, victorious. "Got it."

You wiggle yourself out of your pants, leaving your underwear on. Satan helps, leaning back to tug them off your ankles and toss them aside.

He leans over you again to kiss you, long and slow, his tongue invading your mouth, savoring. As he does so, you feel his hand press the toy into your open palm.

Then he leans back, perching himself back on his heels as he keeps his seat between your open legs. The air in your room is cold, but Satan's hands are warm as they rest against your thighs, waiting patiently.

Well, not exactly patiently... a moment later, he takes the vibrator from your hand and turns it on, and then puts it back into your hand with a satisfied nod, his eyes glittering with eagerness.

You can't help but giggle at him.

"Are you really that excited to see me do this?" you tease.

"Why would I not be?" he asks back.

You bite your lower lip again. Satan watches the action intently.

"It drives me crazy when you do that, you know..." he mutters.

Your mouth curls into a grin and you slowly move the vibrator gently, sensually down the center of your belly from solar plexus to navel. Then you let it travel further, past the edge of your underwear, over the soft mound of venus to finally slip over the edge. Your breath hitches slightly as it passes your clit, but you keep going further, until it's gently humming against your covered entrance. God, you're already so wet, you realize... you can feel it soaking through the panties, coating your pussy lips.

You hum in pleasure and your eyes flutter closed. Satan's hands tighten slightly on the meat of your thighs then loosen.

Slowly, gently, you circle your vibrator over the fabric of your underwear, teasing yourself, avoiding your clit entirely. You had no doubt that giving it any attention would send you quickly over the edge, and the last thing you wanted was to disappoint Satan by coming too quickly.

The slow and gentle stroking turns into gentle pressures against your hole, the wet fabric acting as a barrier, even as it slips and slides with ease. You feel his hand leave your right thigh and you open your eyes just enough to see Satan's gaze trained on your pussy, his hand stroking his stiff cock through his too-tight jeans. His cheeks are flushed, his mouth parted prettily, and you can tell that he's struggling to keep himself quiet.

"Take off your belt," you whisper.

Satan's eyes meet yours, wide with surprise, pupils blown wide with lust. He does as you command, his fingers quickly undoing the buckle and yanking the white leather from the loops to land on the floor with a clink.

His hand is back on his covered cock, stroking the shaft with a firm grip that has the muscles of his thighs tensing against your own. His human form flickers out for a brief moment, and you catch the glimpse of sharp, curled horns and the flicking black movement of his tail behind him. But then it's gone just as fast, his human form returning.

Fuck he's so hot.

You moan as a small wave of pleasure makes your cunt throb. You use your free hand to pull aside your underwear, finally letting yourself be exposed to Satan's heavy gaze.

The air leaves his lungs on a heavy breath of "oh fuck" and once again his demon form flashes, stronger this time, lingering for a few seconds before being tightly locked away out of sheer willpower.

You put your toy to your swollen pussy and it glides against it easily, coated in slick. Your hole flutters a needy spasm, the band of muscles between your legs tensing to the point of aching. You can feel your pulse in your clit, and you want to whimper, to take what you want selfishly.

But Satan is in front of you, his expression pained with arousal, his jaw clenched as he stares down at your sex, and you realize that even though he's not in you, even though he's not touching you, that this is still something you're sharing together.

"Satan..." you beg softly. "You can touch yourself... it's okay..."

Satan's strokes halt, and he stares up at you for a moment, hesitant.

He swallows around a dry throat, his voice slightly graveled. "A-are you sure...? I don't think I can keep my human form if I do..."

You smirk. "I like your demon form. It's hot."

Satan's mouth turns down into a small frown and he averts his gaze. "No, I mean... it might be a little... different..."

Oh. Oh.

He doesn't want to scare you, you realize. Your gaze softens and you tilt your head slightly.

"It's okay. I promise."

There's no more words, just a heavy gaze of uncertainty being transformed into gratitude. Then, he licks his lips and undoes the button and zipper of his jeans, and shoves his hands into the waist-band of his boxer briefs. A heavy sigh escapes his lips and he leans his weight back onto his free hand behind him as his head tilts back. His human form shimmers away until only his demon form is left, and now you can appreciate the parts of himself that he usually keeps hidden from you, parts that have only ever come out when he's angry.

Never when he's aroused or happy.

You watch his adam's apple bob when he swallows, and you nearly want to cry with how sexy he is, how he doesn't even realize it, and how fucking lucky you are that he's yours.

With a single stroke, he pulls his cock free from the confines of his pants, and you suck air deep into your lungs at the sight of it. It isn't entirely human, but not entirely monster either. Gorgeous like the rest of him, the tip flushed, the size manageable. The part that stands out, however, is the darker coloration and smooth ridges along his shaft. His hand moves over it firmly, the tip leaking precum, and you swallow at the thought of what it would feel like inside you, those ridges rubbing against your sensitive walls...

It is a cock made for pleasure, and now you're strongly considering throwing the vibrator out the window.

No wonder he was so worried before...

And you would have, too, if Satan asked it of you. But instead, he does what you don't expect.

"Keep going," he mutters. His hips are jerking into his hand now, and you realize he's close.

"If I do, I'm gonna cum..." you whimper. "I don't think I can hold it back anymore."

Satan let's out a soft chuckle, the corner of his mouth curling upwards to flash his sharp canine.

"Don't you want to cum?"

"I do, but..."

"But what?"

You lean up and reach your hand to him, and Satan grants your request by sitting up and giving you his free hand. "I want to feel you..." you whisper. You take his hand and place it palm up against your heated, wet cunt. "Here."

A puff of air escapes his lungs, coating your lips. "Fuck..."

Satan freezes his own strokes, withholding his release to help you through yours. He takes your hand that's still holding your vibrator and puts it gently against your clit. "Hold that there."

You listen, and his hand abandons yours, fingers slipping down between your legs until they're kissing your entrance. You're fighting every impulse, every nerve, withholding your impending orgasm even as the thrumming against your swollen clit sings like a tuning fork, and you're the glass, ready to shatter.

"How many fingers do you want?" he mutters. His face is inches from yours, his eyes staring into yours, strands of his messy hair sticking to his damp forehead.

You swallow as your nose brushes against his, and it takes an extra ten whole seconds to process his question. "Um... two?"

He kisses you then, his mouth capturing yours sensually, lingering and slow as his fingers push into you. They glide in easily, your body wet and ready for him, and there's not a hint of discomfort, only relief. Sweet, sweet relief.

He glides his fingers out and back in, and your breath shudders within the cage of your chest. He does it again, his lips pulling away just enough so he can watch your expression, gauge your pleasure.

"You like it?" he asks, the huskiness of his voice nearly hiding his worry.

You nod.

But Satan is perceptive, and can tell that while you're enjoying it, that there's something more... something you want...

"Tell me," he whispers against your lips. "Tell me what you want me to do."

Your free hand is clutching his shoulder now, nails digging into his shirt that somehow never made its way off his body.

"I..." you swallow, and withdraw the vibrator just slightly. "I want you to curl your fingers... when you're pulling them out..."

You feel his lips curl into a smile against your own and he kisses you.

"Like this?"

He does it, and that familiar high note of pleasure cuts outward from between your legs, and you moan loudly into his mouth.

"Yes! Yes, just like that," you beg.

Another moan as he repeats the action. Once he's confident he has it figured out, he begins stroking his neglected cock again.

But then suddenly, a heavy silence falls like a blanket, and you quickly realize why...

"Oh shit..." you groan.

Satan pauses, confused as he stares at your now lifeless vibrator. "What happened?"

"The battery died...." you toss it aside and give a pained laugh followed by a frustrated growl.

Satan stares for a moment, then smiles mischeviously.

"Do you know how to touch yourself?" as he's asking, his fingers begin pushing back into you, slow and gentle, until he's knuckle deep.

You suck in air, and force your answer out through clenched teeth. "Of course I know how."

"Then maybe we don't need it this time..."

He curls his fingers for you, and your back arches as you gasp.

"Uhh, no.... no we don't."

"Good." He plants a kiss to your lips. "Then touch yourself so I can watch."

Oh fuck...

You lay back against the bed as your hand dips between your legs, fingers finding your swollen clit with ease. You begin to expertly roll tight circles over the sensitive nerves, and within seconds, your thighs are tensing, legs shaking.

Satan keeps his fingers in you, his pace following the one you're setting for yourself with each press of your fingers. His other hand is pumping his cock again, and his breaths are turning ragged.

"Can I cum on you?" he asks, his voice strained.

Another wave of pleasure jolts as your impending orgasm rapidly builds. Your head is pressed back into your pillow, chin lifting, back arching as the tension overtakes every inch of your body until it feels like ropes made of fire binding you, restricting you.

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes please."

"I'm close," he mutters through clenched teeth. You can feel the vibrations of how rapidly he's fisting his cock, the motion shaking the mattress. "I'm not cumming without you."

Your eyes open to look at him, and the sight of him all messy and suffering in his pleasure of you is the push you need. The tight band finally snaps, and you're moaning, gasping, your fingers working yourself vigorously while Satan's thrust in and out, fingers caressing that sensitive spot on each swift withdrawal.

Then his fingers withdraw and you feel his weight shift, his thighs lifting until he's on his knees between your legs. Immediately comes the hot, wet sensation of his cum spilling onto your fingers, your clit, your cunt. His moans are rough and guttural, nearly animalistic, and you're reminded that he's a demon, all inhuman strength and tightly guarded rage, coating your sex in his seed. It only turns you on more, and you ride out your orgasm, your fingers rubbing your clit vigorously, mixing his cum with your juices, as if you could imprint him onto you, carry him with you always.

Finally, the crushing, fiery waves ebb for both of you, and you're left with your cunt slightly aching and spasming with aftershocks. Satan is spent as well, sitting back on his haunches. You open your eyes to look at him, and you realize he's staring at your pussy, now covered in his seed, underwear still yanked to the side, now stretched out and ruined. You can feel a dribble of his cum sliding down your lips, and he gingerly takes his finger and rubs the droplet against your sensitive clit. You suck air in through your teeth, your back arching at the overstimulation, and he smiles.

He leans over you and lays his body onto yours, allowing you to feel the softness of his cock against your body. He kisses you tenderly, and you reciprocate as your arms lazily wrap around his neck.

"Thank you for this," he whispers against your mouth. "It was very... educational."

You chuckle at him. "You're a quick learner."

"Well, I am pretty smart..." he grins. "But... there are some things that can't be taught through books."

"So we'll have to practice more, then. So you can study..."

Satan hums at you, as he stares down at you, his cheek propped in his hand. "Hm. Yes, lots of studying."

You giggle and kiss him. Then he rolls over to his back to lay next to you, his eyes staring at the ceiling.

"Although..." he continues, "I think next time I want to hold the vibrator."

[grind-pantera]

Wait Intimacy Prompt 7 with Blue Eyes omg!

7. Kissing Scars. ( how about touching? )

"Did they hurt?" Voice barely a touch of a whisper, you wanted nothing more than to hoard the conversation from the prying eyes and ears of the Apes who were enjoying the evening meal, yours forgotten next to you, Blue Eyes having been diligently working on his own before your question came to the forefront. Biting your tongue seemed to be a notion lost to you as you words slipped out without hesitation.

'Only the first day,' Blue Eyes graced you with his beautiful gaze and you felt like you were losing all senses in reality at the intensity, his limbal rings so thickened that they entranced anything he set his gaze on. 'Not anymore. Months now, have scarred into silver.'

There was a small silence as he peered tentatively at the fish in his bowl, opting to set it to the side so he could twist his body and face you completely. Feeling the air of his movements against your cheeks, you were suddenly thankful for the fire that was in front of you that you could use as an excuse for the richness of blush across your face. This movement was intentional so you were able to see his hands sign correctly, Blue Eyes often adapting to that as he must have recognized somewhere along the lines of your friendship that your eyes were not as great at picking up the subtle signs and he needed to put more effort into it to make it clear.

'Makes me look weak,' Blue Eyes had signed to you in regard to his scars, the movements of his fingers full of shame that you imagined came from the fact that Caesar had tried to tell him how to act after the fact. 'Koba... Wrong about them. Says they make me look stronger, but...' His signing came to a slow stop as he peered up at you, the height different being more from you perched on the log, Blue Eyes now hunching his shoulders down to keep the heat in his core, refusing to relent the fact that he wanted to face you. 'Weak.'

"Can I touch them?" The flurry that hit his chest at that question, perplexity written clearly against his already softened features as he drew his gaze from the beating he was able to sense in your chest to meet your gaze. Brow ridge set in on itself. Hm... He tilted his head and brought his shoulders up a bit, confirming without signing or speaking that you were allowed to, but the hesitance in his body told you that he was unsure why you were suddenly so entranced by them.

Drawing your bottom lip in to keep your breathing at bay so you didn't completely overtake his senses with the scent of it, which admittedly could not have been the best after you just chowed on a piece of fish, you scooted your body towards the edge of the log to get a bit closer. Blue Eyes watched carefully as you came forward, falling back instinctually with your actions before he forced himself to ease back into it. You were not going to hurt him, Blue Eyes knew that well enough, but there was the idea floating around in the back of his mind that... With one grazing of your hand against him, he could snap and decide to hurt you out of unresolved tension and admiration that rested very unsettlingly in the very depths of his stomach.

Lightly, the pads of your fingers touched him, his heart throwing itself into his throat and it felt like bile as he looked down at the movement, unable to captivate your eyes to comfort him as you were scrutinizing your own movements, afraid to scare him in his timid personality. The scar under your touch was smooth... Surprisingly, you raised your eyebrow at that, moving forward to the point where your butt slipped from the log, Blue Eyes catching the moment before you were able to react.

With a blink of your eye, you were suddenly flushed against him, in his arms and your hand flat against the scarred nature of his chest. Sputtering, you tried to get him to release you, but he was slow to do just that before his snaked arm around your waist to keep you from completely toppling into him subsided.

"S-Sorry, I forget the rocks are so slick, m-my foot... I slipped..." The heat attacked your cheeks as you scooted back a bit, rising your body to prop back on the log and grabbing your bowl, pretending to be invested in it all of a sudden.

Blue Eyes watched, the feeling in his navel now twisting like someone had stabbed at him with a spear and they were torturing him, his eyes taking note of your hands shaking as you picked at the berries. He felt like the three adjacent scars on his chest were flushed with heat, like you had left your hand branded against him from the sudden brash motion of your hand laying flat. Bristling fur rose against his spine at the feeling.

'Human's clumsy,' Blue Eyes finally responded, opening his mouth and taking a deep breath in, "Surprised... Do not... Have... Scars."

You laughed at his words, shaking your head and lifting your arm, pulling your sweater up so you could show him your elbow, a tiny, minuscule grey scar sitting there. "I was pushed on the monkey bars as a kid and I got a twig stuck here. My mom used to tell me I screamed like a banshee when she took it out." He looked at it, admiring the motion it had against your skin but admittedly he was more amused in your words. So human, Blue Eyes had no idea what you were talking about but he would take what he could get just to settle the rising and falling of his shoulders. 'Human not weak.' Grinning down at your bowl, you brought your eyes into his own, letting them sink deeply as the fire flickered happily behind you in a chorus with your tone, soft and draped with wild reassurance that Blue Eyes found himself seeking from you, "Neither is Blue Eyes."

[psychedelic-ink]

ㅤㅤㅤ✦ 𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐌𝐄

ㅤㅤdieter bravo x f!reader

genre: smut, pwp, minors dni, friends to lovers? kinda

word count: 1.4k

summary: you and dieter get high on gummies.

warnings: edibles (gummies), heavy petting, high talk, for the sake of this fic the gummy shows affect very quickly, oral (fem receiving), nipple play, dirty talk, dieter is a menace, lots of grinding, also when i say pwp I REALLY mean no plot, just friends making out essentially, everything is %100 consensual

Your eyes widen gradually as you witness Dieter lean closer, his smile boyish as he holds a red gummy between his teeth. 

"Come on," he says, brows curling upwards. "You take half, I take half." 

Your eyes move between the gummy and the gorgeous brown of his eyes. It hadn't been long since you and Dieter started hanging out, not a lot had been shared between you two, other than your love of movies and, surprisingly, tabletop games. 

Staring at his expectant gaze, you burst into a giggle when he wiggles his brows. Finally, with an exasperated exhale, you shake your head and lean closer. 

"Fine, you dork. I don't have work tomorrow anyway." 

"Perfect," he grazes the sugary surface of the gummy against your bottom lip. "Bon Appetit."

You feel the softness of his lips as you bite down into the flesh of the sugary delight. You expect him to move back, for him to immediately chew and swallow, but instead, he lingers, keeping his lips flush against yours as you take half the gummy into your mouth. The sugars dissolve, leaving a bare and imperfect surface. It tastes a bit like strawberry, but it is overwhelmed by the taste of cannabis. 

Wrinkling your nose, you pull away, he laughs. “You’re so dramatic.” 

“Says the Queen of Drama,” you snap back, sticking your tongue. “Also you can’t convince me that this tastes good.” 

“Hey I never said it tasted good, I said it’ll get us high as fuck.” 

“Those were your exact words,” you mutter, leaning back. “So what now? We just wait for the hit?” 

“Pretty much.” Your eyes follow him as he nestles closer, the warmth of his body seeping into your own. A shudder runs up your spine, an involuntary sound escapes your throat. He’s a charmer, that’s for sure. Easy on the eyes. 

He lays a palm over your tight, spreads his fingers. Another shudder. “You like it when I touch you?” 

It’s phrased as a question but, for some reason, you don’t feel like he needs an answer. His thumb begins to draw shallow lines, up and down, over and over. Slick gathers between your legs and without a second thought, you instinctively rub them together. You start to feel it then, the delightful buzz from mother nature. A giggle rises from your throat. 

“This feels really good,” you say, he gently presses his nails down, liquid heat drips from your spine. 

“Which one?” 

You think you don’t understand what he means, but you do. “Both. Both feel good.” 

“Good,” he mutters, his voice dropping. “Come’ere. Let me make you feel even better.” 

He tugs you along until you’re firmly seated on his lap, without a second thought you roll down your hips, feeling the hard line of his cock. Your breath hitches, a tiny moan escaping. Dieter grins as his hands dances along your arms, only stopping to pull you down against his clothed cock. You gasp, a buzzing sensation shooting up your spine. You feel his soft lips on your chin, he nips the skin softly before traveling further down to take a hearty bite from your neck. 

Your hips twitch, your eyes rolling back, “F–Fuck, Dieter—” 

“Feels really good huh?” he licks the salt of your skin, more slick gathers between your legs, your cunt pulsing with need and want. “You’re so sweet—tell me how good I’m making you feel.” 

The words are caught in your throat, your body a live wire as it becomes nothing but melted metal underneath Dieter’s touch, only for him to mold. 

His hands sneak underneath your shirt and with one swift motion, he pulls it off, leaving you in nothing but your bra. You expect him to rip the lace off with the same hunger but instead, he holds the cups and tugs them down, exposing your breasts. He dips down mouth open wide, he sucks a hard nipple into his mouth and moans, his hips sharply thrust up. 

Your eyes flutter closed, he feels too good, every patch of skin tingling. He sucks hard as he rolls his hips over and over, making you feel every inch that you don’t have inside of you. Some part of your heart feels rage for that. You want him. Every inch of him. His fingers begin to play with the other nipple. 

“Tell me what I want to hear baby, or else I’m stopping.” 

“You’re amazing,” you gasp. “I can’t get enough of this…this feeling. Fuck, Dieter—I—I need—” 

His mouth is flush against your ear, you shudder, “I can feel how soaked you are through your sweats, sweetheart. I know exactly what you need.” Momentarily you let out a breath of relief, he would give you what you want, what you need— “Too bad you’re not getting it until I make you come like this first.” 

It’s almost as if someone dropped an icy bucket of water over your head. It clashes with the agonizing warmth he’s making you feel, a cry ripping from your throat, he smiles. 

“W-What? What?” 

“I know this feeling, have experienced it myself,” Dieter grins. “Sit still and enjoy the ride, sweetheart.” 

You choke on a whimper, buckling down against him. Dieter continues his torturous movements, his lips now biting and nipping at your neck while his hands wander down to your soaked sweats. He pulls them down, exposing your throbbing clit to the cool air. Without hesitation, he tightens his fingers around it, his movements hard and fast. 

You can't contain the moans and gasps that escape your lips, your body trembling with pleasure. Dieter's lips move to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth as his fingers work you into a frenzy. You can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, the pleasure building up within you. 

Suddenly, he stops, leaving you panting and desperate for release. 

“Please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Let me come, please. Please Dieter.” 

Your begging is getting closer and closer to sounding like dying whispers, tiny dots are starting to appear. You’re on the verge of passing out, in ways you’ve never thought someone could pleasure you. Hypnotized by his eyes and his hand movements as he plugs away yet you can’t help but think about how you’re stuck on pause, yet he looks like he could keep on going. 

"Is that all it takes to get you going?" Dieter's voice is low, his lips red and plump from kissing every patch of skin. He looks at you with a sense of satisfaction, like he's accomplished something great. "I can make you come just from touching you like this."

You moan in frustration, unable to form words as you try to push your hips forward, seeking any sort of relief. Dieter laughs, a dark and hungry sound that reverberates through your body. "I told you, baby, you're not getting to the fun part until you come like this first."

"Dieter, please," you whimper, your voice laced with need. 

He simply grins and stands up, taking you with him. He leads you to the bedroom, pushing you down on the bed before crawling over you, his eyes dark with desire.

"I want to taste you," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. 

He lowers himself between your legs, his tongue flicking over your clit and causing you to writhe beneath him. His tongue moves expertly, teasing and flicking until you can't take it anymore. With a loud cry, you come undone, your body shaking with the intensity of your release. 

Dieter keeps lapping up your wetness, making sure to draw out every last drop of pleasure from you. When he finally pulls away, you're left breathless and sated.

As you lay there, panting and trying to catch your breath, Dieter cuddles up next to you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your skin. 

"Wow," you say finally, still trying to recover from the intense pleasure he just gave you. "That was...amazing."

"Remind me to get high with you more often," you laugh, finally able to form coherent words.

"Oh, I will definitely be reminding you," Dieter grins, his fingers tracing soothing circles on your back. "But for now, let's just enjoy this high and each other's company."

With a sly smile, you roll on top of him, ready for round two. Dieter's playful smirk mirrors your own as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you in for another kiss.

You can't help but think that this was just the beginning of a wild, passionate, and exciting journey with Dieter by your side. And you couldn't wait to see where it would take you next.

[late-draft]

Hello, Dema here!

First off—I have fallen desperately in love with your artworks. You have a very particular style, strong and fluid all the same, and I can't help but admire the way you draw and how you approach character design.

And talking about character design...

I saw your post about Zuko's bold design in S1 when compared to what we got in S3 and—as much as I love S3-Zuko—I completely agree with you. Something I've always loved about Zuko in S1 is just how striking he was, how much of a presence he had, even when he was being tossed around by a twelve-year-old. That being said, I love Zuko, I love him in armor and pointy shoes and with a ponytail, and I loved your alternative design for him.

What do you think about his S2 character design? How does it flow with the story beats and his overall character arc? Much has been said about the Hair-Growth-Means-Character-Growth (and I find it interesting, also, that he cut his hair again before joining the Gaang), but I'd like to know your opinion on how that translates to character design and how the decisions made in the show could be either good or bad in that regard.

Sorry about the long ask! I've just been thinking about this a lot, lately, and would like to know what you think. Hope you have a good day ❤️

AAAA Dema hii!!! I'm so happy I got a message from you, I didn't expect it!!

I'm super glad to hear, I'll wear it as a badge of honour and I must tell you that I also love your art, you wonderfully do volume and the shading done through a contrast of sharp and soft areas! Super solid anatomy too and I'd be lying if I said I didn't look up to your art!

Yess the character designs in the show actually are rather strong, I like a good balance between memorable and functional. Zuko is just *chef kiss* but, considering just how many appearance changes he goes through, some are bound to be weaker than the starting one. That said, I'm gonna go through a few of his S2 looks and make this reply long, ha!

The starting one when he ends up huddling with uncle Iroh with other poor refugees, fits extremely well for the narrative at the moment. It's actually one of my least liked looks for him, and that's great!! It's precisely how it should be, because he's also arguably at one of his two lowest moral points in the story - he basically lost almost all hope, no clear goal, nothing to fight for, he's desperate precisely because of the lack of orientation and thus his morals degrade and sink veeery low. He gets on my nerves so goddamn much in this period LMAO I want to beat him up, he looks like a recovering drug addict... annoying, entitled whiny jerk stealing food and anything shiny for his uncle, but even then he just does not cross the moral event horizon. Excellent characterization. He just looks atrocious and it's great because it fits this low point.

Next he gets the standard boyish square of a hair, no notes here...

But theeeen, he arrives at one of my favourite looks of his, and it's not just because the clothes fit him very nicely (I've seen fandom say they look too big for him which, maybe?? But it doesn't look like he's swimming in them to me) And a thing I've noticed which, maybe it was just an accident on design part but I'm not sure considering they colour coded the entire cave scene; in this part his clothes match the shape of Katara's, first one in bottom then the one in top. The collar is the same haf-circle design but I don't know, maybe there was a limited pool of clothes designs guide which they cycled through. Or, he really is meant to come close but miss Katara by a beat, like sine and cosine chasing each other.

But besides this outfit fitting the inconspicuous Earth Kingdom customer service persona, it also (perhaps inadvertently) does this VERY cool thing:

It makes his shape look closed off and guarded, supposedly non-threatening. It's most visible in his fight against Jet, whose shape is open and goes in many directions like an aggressive star. But then look at what Zuko's shape does:

When he attacks, it opens up to reveal the hidden aspect, again the aggressive star shape shows up! The same thing happens in "Zuko alone" episode but I think it's most clearly visible in this fight against Jet because here he has a direct contrast and comparing with Jet. I think this is an example where the outfit, whose similar design exists irl, overlaps with a great visual metaphor and enhances the narrative at that moment in story. He's still that combative firebender but he has to keep that aspect concealed most of the time. Plus it just looks badass as hell!!

Animators really knocked it out of the park with many frames. I think Jun was too early and missed his better hairstyle, but Katara was just in time.

I agree it's super funny how his hair in the Beach is awfully long, covers his face to an uncomfortable degree and then he apparently shortens it before joining the Gaang, insane behaviour Truly an "I'm so angry and depressed I won't show my face nor be capable of seeing anything because there's nothing nice to see in my life" look...

I guess all his appearances in S2 cover his mental states, but only one of them is extremely Extra (the tea server, doesn't even take the apron off and goes to fight) and I don't see any spot where a similar tier design could be shoved in, narratively speaking. So all in all, S2 did as much as S2 could have. More tea server arc please though, the Guru episode really feels like it skipped 800 km of plot and everything that happened in it is so crammed and pretty sus in terms of character behaviour.

[aibouart]

A shading with folders hack

that no one asked for~

please google if your art program allows you to use: folders set folders to multiply/layer modes

i am using PT SAI but if your art program utilises folders and layer modes, it should work for you as well!

Here is my drawing. The top folder is labelled "shading" and the bottom folder is my art! inside of it is my colouring layers and my lineart. Because I colour my lineart, I need my shading to clip to the lines AND the colour so the lineart doesn't end up too bright or mismatched from the colour after shading.

of course, there's many techniques, but this is my solution to this (and it could be used for a lot of other things~)

In PTS, I can clip folders to layers or other folders, and set the folder to multiply (in other programs it could be called dodge, burn, or shade, etc. you can always use whatever mode you prefer for shading, and mine is multiply!)

inside of my shading folder i pick my base colour for the shading. personally, i start with the darkest, and this layer is for all shaded areas with no direct light. so if you plan on having bounce light, don't do that in this step! (i use an erasing method for my shading so it tends to look pretty dramatic haha)

this layer is my bounce highlights, i use a lighter colour than my base, usually with more saturation to make it look tasty yumyum. the layer is clipped to the shading layer INSIDE the multiply folder. this means it acts as if clipped to the layer below it, but ALSO clipped to the art folder. this way it won't go outside of the layer below it, AND it won't go outside of the folder it's clipped to.

this step i use a third colour that stands out from the other 2, to put on the edges of my base shading layer. i use this cuz it looks cute but also cuz im obsessed with lighting that's reminiscent of sunsets or the like:

i couldn't be bothered to find a better image so you get this very strong example that has a tonne of bouncelight in blue. The orange part here is what i am referring to.

after that you can clip luminosity on top of the multiply folder which is clipped to the art folder, so the lumi layer will be technically clipped to the art folder! (folderception~). whenever you have multiple layers clipped on top of each other, they will always clip to the layer the first one is clipped to.

i know folders can be confusing and it's hard for me to explain, but if you try it out you'll figure it out for sure!! it's very easy to use once you got it, and it makes the possibilities endless~ mostly. hopefully, this explains it well enough!

[anemonelovesfiction]

20~ Age Gap

So’lek x Fem! Human Reader

Warnings ⚠️: P! In V!, fingering, unprotected sex

Part two to this

Not proofread

MDNI 🔞

It’s the last day of Heatwave In Pandora and I’m saddened by this but also excited for having been a part of all of this with y’all. Thank you so much for those who participated and enjoyed my stories as well!

Word count: 2.2k

To say I was embarrassed about what happened during just before the comet’s raining across the sky was an understatement, I had been completely mortified of the situation, I’d basically masturbated in front of So’lek, and I think he did too? But the fact that I had been caught talking in my sleep- like I do most nights- had been too much for me to attempt to show my face around him again. I’d practically grown to avoiding him during any situation possible.

He’d attempted at steering my mind in the opposite direction that night by helping me draw giant penises on my coworkers masks, making sure each of them had a different kind of drawing on it. And the comets also helped for the time being, each of them pretty much being wished upon as they flew past us in a beautiful shimmer.

But another reason I had to learn to avoid So’lek was his age. He was in his forties and I was only twenty two, I was undeniably too young for him- and not even the same species. That was a considerable age gap and I’m sure the reason he doesn’t have a mate is because everyone in his clan had perished, but had any woman from his clan caught his eye, I’m sure he would have been mated with children by now and I’m certain he doesn’t even tolerate me to begin with- I’m human!

I’d been avoiding having to come into contact with him, strategically avoiding all of the areas he frequents, ensuring that I had something to do far from our base whenever they had their meetings -or went up or down on a different level when it was raining- and when all else failed and he was near I either ignored him or found a way to push someone else into his direction to hold a conversation with him. It was pretty easy considering Priya was a chatter box, she often went off on tangents, and did very well at allowing me the perfect amount of time to escape.

But today was a different day. Priya had gone on a patrol with Anqa while all of the Sarentu were busy doing some kind of training quest without So’lek, and here I was trying to look into a way I could quickly disappear while being in his sight, finding it futile to find a hiding spot and not being able to find a single one I give high hopes that Eywa is listening to my prayer that he wouldn’t need anything from me only to be proven wrong.

“You and I need to talk.” He stated as he stands directly in front of me, arms crossed and his hip tilted to the side, he looked so babygirl, but I couldn’t even think to laugh at a time like this. I could feel the adrenaline starting to course through my bloodstream and I felt jittery.

“In private.” He adds after having looked around before staring right at me. I could only gulp and nod at this moment wondering why the great mother would betray me at my most vulnerable moment, I can see So’lek turn around and motion with his head for me to follow him, and like a lost puppy with my head hung down in defeat, I do.

It hadn’t taken us long to reach the fourth floor which housed all of our rooms. I’d ended up spacing out long enough to pass him before looking up and realizing he was behind me, turning to face him and realizing I’d cornered myself between a wall and his body. Damnit.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks without beating around the bush and I start to think of a million excuses in my head, opening my mouth to spew whatever first bullshit lie could come out, closing it as he speaks again.

“Don’t lie to me.” He states as he crosses his arms waiting for my answer and I couldn’t help but chew on my bottom lip.

“I was embarrassed.” I admit and cross my own arms to try to shrink into the wall, my room was just around the corner and if I bolted I think I could make it, but I looked down instead.

“Why?” His voice is deep and holds me captive as I stand there looking like an idiot and shrug.

“If you have forgotten already I joined in too. You saw the evidence on the ground.” He speaks so steadily that I’m tempted to look up past my lashes but refrain from doing just that.

“Thats not it- well mostly- but not all of it.” I pull myself closer together and pray to Eywa that I could disappear at this moment to walk away from the conversation but feel his finger underneath my chin, lifting it up and forcing me to look into his eyes.

“Why are you avoiding me?” He asks once more and I couldn’t stop the shiver from running down my spine.

“I know you won’t reciprocate my feelings, I’m too young for you, and I’m not Na’Vi.” I stated honestly and want to look away but can’t find it in myself to do so, only for him to throw his head back with a chuckle, I could feel the embarrassment creep up on me once more and anger from him laughing at me.

“Whats so funny?” I asked with a huff, wanting to hit him on the arm for laughing at me.

“I do not care that you are tawtute nor your age. You are old enough to make decisions for yourself and you can choose if you want me or not, that is what matters to me.” He responds and seems genuine for his answer and it causes me to freeze.

“What are you saying?” I asked as the confusion was settling over my features, brows lifted and furrowed together, eyes searching his for clarification.

“Must I show you?” He asks simply and I’m still confused.

_________

He sits me onto my own bed as he kneel’s before me, being taller than me even if I’d been standing, he cranes his neck down and captured my mouth with his, his hands on my hips as he slowly shimmies my pants and underwear off in one go, tossing it off elsewhere without breaking the kiss. His hands returning toward my thighs as he squeezes them gently, his tongue inserted into my mouth as soon as I gasp, my own moan following after.

Our tongues don’t battle for dominance as I knew he’d win, his massaging mine as our lips toss and turn for him to do whatever he wanted to me, I didn’t even know how wet I’d gotten until he’d inserted a finger into my cunt and it slid right in. Another moan slipping through my lips as I lean my body back for him to get a better angle, finally breaking the kiss.

“So’lek~” I moaned right as he inserts a second finger easily, I’d thrown my head back at some point, lifting it back up to see him looking right at me with a smirk.

“Wipe that smirk off your- f-f-fuck,” I cuss as he moves his fingers swiftly in, caressing my sweet spot the entire time he’d gone in, my head lolling back and eyes closing as I attempt to focus on the pleasure.

“Lay back.” He instructs and I listen, laying my body back onto the bed while my legs dangled off the bed as did the bottom half of my ass, but I didn’t care at this point as the pleasure was too good.

“Lift your legs up and don’t let them touch the ground.” He stated again, I lifted my legs and settled the hells on the edge of the mattress, feeling his breath on my cunt and constricting myself around his fingers, a dark chuckle rasping through, driving me absolutely wild. His tongue takes a swipe up my cunt and I couldn’t help but gasp followed by a moan as he thrusts his fingers back in.

“Fuck, please go faster-“ I struggled to get out as he continued thrusting his fingers in and out of me, kissing my sweet spot periodically and making me thrash my head around the bed, surely adding knots to my already messy hair.

“I want to make you cum.” He mutters before placing his lips around my clit and giving a harsh suck, my hips jumping up at the sudden contact, a wail escaping me as he continues suckling and fingering.

“So’lek, fuck!” I yell out as he runs a stripe along my clit, his rough tongue catching in it and rubbing against it deliciously I couldn’t help but buck my hips upward. A pleasing hum running through his body and from the depths of the obscene noises happening in this room, I could hear a gentle rumble, almost like a purr.

“I’m coming-“ I could feel my eyes crossing behind my eyelids and my vision turning white as I feel myself rhytmically grasping his fingers, his movements never ceasing as he continues to plow through my own orgasm and I could feel myself start to lose my own breath in the process.

“You taste delicious.” So’lek comments as his fingering comes to a standstill, I lift my head and open my eyes even when they felt too heavy to keep open and looked at him with a lopsided grin. He only stares right back at me, taking his fingers out of my cunt, and sensually licking the juices off them. I could only stare at him as my own grin fell, the heat returning to my core as I watched him and heard him continue to purr with approval, I lunged toward him and brought his face onto mine and kissed the ever living fuck out of him, breaking the kiss as I started breathing heavily to catch my breath and placed my hands on the fingers of his loincloth.

“You are eager.” He mutters.

I look up at him and see he’s smiling down at me, I blindly undo the knot keeping his loincloth on as I stare into his eyes as well, the look of surprise crossing his features as he looks down at himself to see his loincloth falling off. His cock coming up to slap him in the stomach.

“I’m efficient.” I corrected him and watch the amusement dance around his eyes.

“How’s about you take a turn on the bed while I play with you?” I ask with my hand on his chest running it down his abs sensually, looking back up at him through my lashes.

“You couldn’t handle me.” He threatens and I take that as a challenge.

“Oh yeah?” I asked with a brow lifted as if I was taking him up on his challenge.

_________

I bounced on his cock again as I could feel the fire in my belly growing larger, one of his hands had been settled on my hips, guiding me up and down his length, his purring had returned tenfold from the moment he’d slipped the tip in, and here I was taming him and taking his cock like I promised.

“How is it you can take so much of me in your tiny body?” He strains through his teeth as I continue bouncing off his cock not bothering to quiet down.

“P-pu-pure w-will,” I rasp out while continuing my task, leaning my body over to rest slightly as I move my hips up and down his giant cock, close to the edge already.

“So’lek, I’m- fuck- I can’t!” I wail as I feel my clit being brushed against his pelvis every time I slam myself down.

“Let go, I’m right there too-“ He squeezes my hips tight and I look up to him eith my own eyes struggling to stay open, his own eyes closed as he basks in the pleasure I’m providing him, deciding to fight to keep my eyes open to see his orgasm face when a sudden thought occurs to me.

“I w-wanna s-see you,” I rasp out desperately as I slow down in my pace but continue going rough. I feel his other hand carefully caress my cheek up toward his face, his eyes already opened and looking at mine, and with that I come, it took everything in me to not close my eyes but the euphoria I felt dancing around my body.

“Fuck!” He groans out loudly as his hands go straight to my hips, holding me down on his cock as I feel the tip of him kissing my cervix and explode all over my womb, spurt after spurt of come hitting my womb in a way that sent tingles through my toes.

“Holy shit-“ I mutter as I feel my body ramped up into yet another orgasm, feeling entirely spent as my body limply falls onto So’lek’s my breathing heavy as I attempt to catch my breath, the orgasm still coursing through me as my pussy contracts around him, his own purring dying down as his hips slowly push up against mine.

“No no no, wait-“ I begin before feeling his knot forming and pushing into my body, locking us into place for the time being, but I was too spent to fight it anymore.

“I’m sorry yawne, I didn’t plan for this to happen.“ So’lek begins apologizing but I shake my head as I struggle to lift myself for him to see me.

“It’s okay, we’ll just have to stay here for a bit.”

“You do not mind being tied to me?”

“Think of it as our version of Tsaheylu.”

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

Alright. I've been talking about writing a meta about Charles and jealousy for a while, so here it is. It's a mess. I tried to make it more concise than it was, if you can believe that.

Be forewarned, below the cut we'll be diving into some canon compliant triggers like Charles' home life. Please, please, please note that now is the time to leave if you are not in a good space to read about those.

Okay. First I want to establish a few things before I get to analyzing the scenes, because I think it is important that we have empathy for Charles here. This might be a bit of a long preamble, but if you could stay with me I'd appreciate it. I promise I am going somewhere with all of this.

I think a lot of us have been told, perhaps by a parent or a friend, that jealousy is unbecoming or bad. Think about it. I know growing up that is a message I heard frequently even though I saw adults exhibit it. This was actually pretty confusing to try and work out. Anyway, now with this almost puritanical obsession with good pure and healthy relationships in media, it's gotten worse. We're told any human flaw we have is something we have to fix or we are not deserving of love. Yes, including jealousy.

Only if that's the case, Charles is fighting uphill here. Here's why:

For reference 41:30 -42:00 in episode 4 is the flashback that The Night Nurse shows Charles of his home. If we unpack this we can learn a lot of things, but there are two that I would like two draw your attention to today:

Charles' dad clearly isn't someone Charles could form a secure attachment to. He seems to only be acknowledging Charles when he's angry, and only acknowledging him in a very violent manner. He's also not really communicating with him, and expecting Charles to know what he's upset about I guess? Truly, this man is terrifying. He knows his family is afraid of him, and he knows they'll scramble to try and fix whatever his issue is.

Charles' mom doesn't intervene. Now, I do not want to hear any vile junk in my notes. She's a battered woman and has probably been in the same position that Charles has, considering Charles himself is worried about her once he is dead. He's worried enough that he checks in on her every week. It makes it all the more heartbreaking that Charles is the one who has taken it upon himself to try and "make it better" (although this is not uncommon among kids who grow up in abusive households, alarmingly).

It definitely drives home that there is a clear hierarchy in the home (everyone tries to please the most volatile person), and you're at the bottom of the pyramid. Even if it's just because you and everyone else in the household is too terrified to do anything about the most abusive person's behavior, you still feel the weight of never being put first. You will never be put first, because how could you be? "You never made it better than you died" (via The Night Nurse) holds a crushing amount of meaning here.

Alright. Now we have established that Charles had some messed up stuff happen at home. Let's take that a step further. Adverse childhood experiences can lead to a variety of attachment styles that are not secure and... you guessed it, jealousy can get thrown in the mix. (This link leads to an abstract of a very interesting research article. If you request the full test directly from the researcher they will provide it for free, but it takes time. The basic idea here is that if kids aren’t able to form secure attachments to their parents, then they will struggle to feel secure in their relationships as they grow up. Sometimes that can manifest as jealousy).

Still with me after all of that? You are god's strongest soldier, lmao. Now let's get into the good stuff.

Charles dies, but there in the attic he meets Edwin. Charles chooses Edwin over the blue light without a second thought. He comforted him when he was dying, and that tenderness is foreign for Charles. The choice is an easy one.

He enjoyed it, and he enjoys Edwin. Edwin, in turn, turns out to be is someone who unequivocally, continuously, puts Charles first. He also does something really important- Charles seeks reassurance, and Edwin gives it ("You ever think, what if Death did catch us? She'd force us to go to the afterlife and split up" Charles asks. "I will make sure that never happens" Edwin answers, all while they're hanging on the side of their office). This is one of the first things we learn about them in the pilot. Charles knows he can count on Edwin. This wasn't something he had from anyone in life.

So things go fine for Charles for a long while. Edwin hasn't given him any reason to feel insecure in all that time it seems. He’s done a great job making Charles feel safe. Charles even feels secure enough that it is his idea to try and integrate Crystal into the agency, although Edwin clearly hates it. Crystal isn’t a threat to his friendship with Edwin, so it would appear Charles still feels reasonably secure in their relationship at this point.

Charles even explains or excuses a lot of Edwin's reactions to try and smooth things over. He tries to mediate between them during their first plan to rescue Becky from Esther's house the best he can. He allows Edwin to have a leg of the case with just the two of them, but he tries to frame it as protecting Crystal.

But then it's Edwin's turn to shake up the foundation that their relationship is built on.

Edwin had a lot of issues to attend to this season, and he tried to deal with most of them alone. Most of the problems Edwin had to handle put definite distance between him and Charles- how couldn't they? He was being hit on, which was a very new experience for him. He probably didn't even know how to talk about that at first, as evidenced by his description of the CK speaking closely to his ear (oh sweet summer child). He also learned about his feelings for the first time, which Monty had to finish spelling out for him.

This all, however, is where we see a shift in the dynamic. It's significant.

Edwin uses magic on a cat and has to go and meet with the Cat King. Whoops. 🙃 Charles slides easily into his role as a protector, but… Edwin stops him.

Honestly, Edwin had a good reason to do this. He pointed out that cat scratches can cause serious harm to ghosts, and they were surrounded. As endearing as this was, this wouldn’t have been an easy fight. They can just talk this out, right? He gets whisked away for a few minutes to do that (and then winds up opening a bigger can of worms).

From Charles’ perspective though, Edwin doesn’t allow him to help him, and then vanishes for a long period of time. Then he absolutely won’t tell him anything about it when he does come back. Charles knew Edwin was a little mad at him in the pilot, but they were still communicating for the most part. The secrecy is a shift, and it’s not one he’s coping well with. He tries a few different ways to reconnect.

First he tries gentle. He just asks what happened from a place of concern. This might have worked actually, only I’m not even sure Edwin knows how to fully describe what happened during their encounter. He rushes through a description, and Charles still feels like something is missing. He doesn’t like that someone else has a secret with Edwin— for thirty years they’ve been connected. This feels frightening to him, and Edwin doesn’t seem particularly worried that they’re not on the same page.

He tries to pick the conversation back up later when they’re searching for the dandelion shrine, but Edwin doesn’t give any additional information. So he slides back into his role of being a protector again and defends him against the ambient skeletons, because at least he can protect him from that easily. For a moment, things almost seem normal again, but this resurfaces in a later case.

Edwin meets with CK again in episode 4. Charles is still raw after the events of the Devlin House, and now he’s just pissed. He’s hurting, and Edwin is still keeping this weird secret. They end up bickering back and forth. The bickering tells us something interesting about Charles’ concerns.

Charles: What did he want? He didn't whisk you away again? Got that bracelet off?

Edwin: I'd be back at the office right now if the bracelet was off. He wanted to know if I counted the cats, and my guess was unsatisfactory.

Charles: Thinks he can come and go... He can't show up in the middle of cases. Did you tell him that?

Edwin: Matter of fact, I did.

Charles: Can't believe you didn't tell us. I've had enough of secrets about that wankеr.

Edwin: Why are you getting so angry?

What stands out to me here is Charles is upset about a few things: he hates that Edwin is getting taken away from him by a being they can’t control (a logical fear, considering they’re running from death together). He hates that this is happening in the middle of case time that is supposed to be for him and Edwin (and their friends, who Charles trusts). He is still really upset that Edwin has a secret with someone else (I really don’t think he’d be bothered if the secret was with him).

That’s why he’s upset. Charles isn’t feeling secure. He doesn’t feel like their relationship is on good footing right now. Whether or not he knows how to phrase that or ask for support is a different question.

Onto Monty (sorry these are a bit out of order— I put them by character for this part).

Charles wasn’t aware of Monty. This probably already bothered him a little, considering the mystery surrounding the cat king, but he tried to be a good sport. Monty wasn’t outwardly threatening. He came with gifts. He seemed friendly. Charles tried to match that… only to get snubbed. Ouch.

Charles likes to claim he’s aces with other people, but he ultimately died because his friends turned on him and killed him the second he stood up for what was important to him. I think peer relationships are a particularly sticky situation for him. I think he knew how to fit in the same way he knew how not to rock the boat in a volatile home. With Edwin it was different though— Edwin just liked him. Edwin was special.

But of course yet another boy their age doesn’t like him (probably a little upsetting, considering how he died). The only thing that’s confusing to him here is he didn’t really do anything wrong— he was polite. He followed along with all the little niceties people do, even when they don’t want to. Maybe this wouldn’t have bothered him so much in another situation, but now Edwin is wrapped up with him instead of Charles. He's picked him instead (in Charles' mind).

He can’t even shake this when Monty isn’t there.

Charles tries to get Edwin's attention... and fails. so he begins to have a conversation with himself. Perhaps he was trying to make Edwin laugh. Perhaps he was trying something over the top. Still, he fails. Ultimately, he goes the broken record route and asks him the same question a couple of times.

This moment probably really hurt- there's actually no reason for Edwin to be ignoring him, in Charles' mind anyway. They're alone together. Usually they'd be talking or bantering or at least Charles would be able to get Edwin's attention. It's just that he can't, because now Edwin is stuck on that fucking book from that fucking bloke who blew him off earlier.

This was probably a little activating for Charles. Even if he didn't completely put together why it upset him, Edwin putting someone who just treated him poorly right in front of his face first is a dim reflection of what he went through in his home. Now, I am not saying Monty is anywhere near that level of bad- he's a literal cream puff. He could not kill them when his life depended on it.

What I am saying, though, that Charles perceives a subtle threat here. He's also not sure what to do with it, because he never overcame that hurtle in life. No one else ever put him first, and he never figured out how to fix that. Edwin kind of just centered Charles automatically when they met. Now he's not doing that anymore and it’s jarring and uncomfortable for him. He’s feeling this loss of stability, on top of the fact that Edwin still won’t tell him what’s going on with the CK.

"...try not to forget that we're trying to leave" is what Charles comes up with after that exchange. Edwin makes an attempt to console him finally and offers to talk, but Charles shuts it down and tells him it's that he wants to leave town. They start on a case after that.

(Note that I did this a little out of order for organization’s sake— some of their CK arguing happened during the case they went on next).

Charles does finally catch a break here. In spite of all of this, he’s missing something very important: Edwin has feelings for him. That’s probably the most pressing issue that’s gone unspoken between them.

So Edwin dresses nicely, catches Charles attention, and finally tries to initiate a conversation. Charles seems relieved.

He does assume Edwin is just trying to come out by telling him about his time with Monty, before the teethface incident. Charles isn’t bothered, since Monty isn’t really in the picture anymore as far as he’s concerned. Things are fine, it’s just the two of them again and Edwin likes boys. Wait…

... Fuck. Forgot about the Cat King.

He resorts to threatening the CK. I know lots of people have lots of different theories on this, but consider this perspective also: Monty is no longer a threat. He’s abstract. He’s a memory. The Cat King is still very real and is a thing that can come between them, has done so, and has successfully taken Edwin from him. And as accepting as Charles was trying to be in that moment, he just can't handle that (from the perspective of this meta).

Anyway, this is all interrupted by their foray into hell. Charles does rescue Edwin, Edwin confesses, and honestly I feel like that just needs to be a different thing entirely but I did type a little bit about how I think Charles interpreted all of that here.

They return. Charles is processing Edwin's confession on the roof. This whole scene mystifies me a little because yes, he didn't seem to know exactly what to say to Edwin's confession in hell (I think he did not want to ruin it by saying the wrong thing). The more rewatches I go through the more... satisfied he looks to me? He might be processing, but also he might be a little giddy that Edwin has feelings for him specifically. I'm still trying to figure out how to read this one because the lines seemed rushed but the microexpressions say so much.

Then he starts blatantly flirting with Edwin. Honestly Charles, what the fuck?(afffectionate) Truly I’m still trying to work out if he’s just testing out how Edwin reacts or if he is working through his own feelings here, but I really want more of this in S2.

That’s about all the thoughts I think I can organize on this for now without it getting obscenely long (it already is pretty long for a half baked idea that turned into a meta). Thank you for reading 🖤

[fab-bladesmith]

A Carolingian Sword and Scabbard, 9th century.

The blade has a 3-layer core of mild steel over high carbon steel, and high carbon steel edges.

Hot-welded in the fullers are the famous "+ULFBERH+T" mark on one side, and "III XX III" on the other, in pattern-welded 1075 and 15N20 steel - this latter thing being, in my educated opinion, no less important than the other side. Many things have been said about such marks, but the most important thing about them is that they exist (otherwise, to paraphrase Sir Terry Pratchett, it wouldn't be a real sword, just a very dangerous bit of sharp metal) and that they are but one aspect of the continuous function of the sword to carry a message/prayer/ritual thing, a thing appearing as early as the Bronze Age and which would continue up to the Renaissance if not after - working in conjunction with the scabbard to utter/read these spells when the sword is drawn or put back in the scabbard.

The hilt is inspired by sword FG2187 of the Germanisches National museum, found near Mannheim, and is mild steel overlaid in brass and silver (thanks to Matt Bunker for the close-ups), with silver details.

For the grip I drew inspiration from a sword found in river Shannon in 2012 for the placement of the linen threads under the leather cover, which provide both a decorative function and a nice feeling in hand. The overall shape of the grip was determined by stylistic elements of various swords of other types.

The scabbard is leather over linen over steam-formed wood, and lined with 100% wool cloth, stitched at the throat with pure silk thread. I chose not to give it a chape, the end being reinforced by a thick wrap of folded linen bands, as according to Dr Geibig's works. Decoration was made using thread glued under the leather cover.

Cheese glue was used for all this.

The suspension system of leather and brass is loosely made after the finds from the Isle of Man (Cronk Moar and Balleteare). The main issue I had was the bottom D-ring/strap thing, and here I propose a simple arrangement of a leather strap riveted to the buckle plate, and made to fit tightly the scabbard when wet. Upon drying, the strap would shrink and securely fit between the two risers.

The strap ends are in the Trewhiddle style, and were made using the historical process of drawing out a billet and chiselling in the decoration, accordingly to the PhD by Gabor Thomas. No casting involved there.

The making of this project owes a lot to the labours of Dr Mikko Molainen, to whom I address all my thanks.

This whole thing needed an awful amount of trial and error, and I am well aware that not everything is perfect there. Apart from the issues mentioned above, the main difficulties were the hot-inlaying/welding of the marks, but I do thing that most of them came from using modern steel - old/bloomery iron, especially with the proper content in phosphorous (wink at @gaelfabre) would have made the welding easier I think. I'll have to give it a try some day.

[avonne-writes]

[ TRAIL ] [ STEAL ] or [ BRUSH ] if you feel inspired by one of them. 💓

Thank you, dear! I hope you don’t me taking this in a (very) smutty direction in the ex-biker au 🔥

[ BRUSH ] sender brushes / styles receiver’s hair

Posted on AO3

Bucky gags softly as Gale’s cock pushes down into his throat, filling him so thoroughly that he can’t feel anything but that thick, hard stretch. Dark blond hair brushes his nose, but just for a second before Gale's hips draw back.

"Sorry." Gale gasps, leaving only the head of his cock to slide over Bucky's tongue. Back and forth in small thrusts.

Bucky moans in an attempt to show how much he liked it and bobs his head to take more, but Gale fists a hand in his curls and pulls him back. He keeps Bucky in place and uses only his mouth. The muscles of his tattooed arm flex. It's infuriating how much self-control he has. Bucky always tries to make him lose it, but only a few minutes is the most he gets of the wild beast of Gale's desire.

When he tries to move again, Gale’s hand tightens in his hair, on the pleasant side of painful. "Such an eager boy."

Bucky moans again, trying to look up at Gale through his hazy eyes. He loves it when Gale reminds him of their twelve-year age gap. Loves it even more when Gale’s low voice sounds warm with praise. They're in the back office of Gale's mechanic shop, Gale on the old, tattered couch and Bucky bruising his knees on the hard ground, spreading Gale's thighs wide with the bulk of his torso. Gale's coveralls are unzipped to give Bucky access to his cock, and Bucky uses this chance to slide his hand up over the sweat-damp skin of Gale's stomach and the trail of hair there, over his abs to the hills of his chest, where he thumbs at the curve of a pec distractedly.

With his free hand, Gale traps Bucky's fingers there and tips his head back as his thrusts start getting rougher again. Controlled and careful, but dancing on the edges of Bucky's craving. They're quiet for a moment, with only the slick sounds of Gale using Bucky's mouth and Gale's heavy breaths to fill the office. The clank of tools and buzzing machinery drifts in from outside sometimes, making Bucky's cock twitch in his jeans. A part of him wants someone to walk in on them. He burns up with the delicious idea of being found with Gale's cock in his mouth.

"Almost there, Bucky." Gale lets out a grunt, and when Bucky hums in satisfaction at the words, he gasps and spills in thick rivulets over Bucky's tongue.

When it’s over, Bucky pulls back and swallows, relishing the lust that shivers through him at the taste.

Gale stares at him with half-lidded eyes, pink bottom lip bitten-dark and skin flushed. He lets go of Bucky's hand and hair to wipe at his own face. Bucky wants to kiss his scars. The ones sliced into his cheeks. Rumour says they’re from fights he got into back when he used to ride in a bike club. But from the way Gale clams up if Bucky pries, Bucky has his doubts.

"You’re so good at this." Gale sighs in contentment.

Bucky's smug grin comes instantly. "Practice."

Gale bumps his knees against him and shakes his head like he doesn’t believe him, but he doesn’t say anything. He lets Bucky tuck him back into his underwear, then kiss a trail up to his chest.

"No shirt today?" Bucky grins against the warm skin, nuzzling the hair there.

"Hot day." Gale's voice rumbles above him.

"Because you knew I was coming in?"

Although Gale has never even let Bucky come around to his house, Bucky feels like he knows him enough to know that he’s feeling caught and wants to squirm.

"No, because it's a 100 degrees out there."

Bucky snorts. When he sits back on his haunches, both of Gale's hands reach for his face. He’s confused until he feels them slide into his dark locks. They pet him for a moment, and Bucky takes it with a happy smile. He likes being touched like this. Gale's eyes don’t meet his, focused on Bucky’s hair, but Bucky doesn’t mind. He watches the tip of Gale's tongue peek out between his lips before sliding back as Gale starts combing Bucky’s curls into place to make him more presentable.

"That’s better." Gale says, like a pat on his own back.

Bucky thinks he might be a little bit in love with him. When Gale’s blue eyes finally slide down to meet his, he pushes up and kisses him.

[aoioozora]

The Ghosts: Ice Cream Headcanons

How would the Ghosts like their ice cream, I wonder.

[these are my personal hcs! Feel free to agree or disagree. I'm open to discussions lol]

Logan Walker:

Can see him being lactose intolerant but would still gorge on ice cream by the tub.

"So worth it," he'd definitely say as he destroys the toilet later

Has to settle for non-dairy ice creams made with vegan milk

I think his favourite flavour would be something classic like vanilla

The others tease him for his basic choice, but he thinks its versatile and pairs with other flavours pretty well

Even on its own, he defends it for having a complex flavour

I can see him being a cone person; likes crunchy, especially the chocolate bit at the bottom

Likes to add crunchy toppings on his ice cream like m&m's and crushed cookies or Oreos

If dared to, he'd deepthroat a cone (did that once and choked; dad had to do the Heimlich manoeuvre)

David 'Hesh' Walker:

Not lactose intolerant

Has a sweet tooth but would not gorge on a tub of ice cream- too disciplined for that

His favourite flavour would be chocolate and/or coffee. He likes the bittersweet taste

He eats ice cream very slowly that he ends up accidentally turning it into soup

For that reason, he's a cup person. He's gotten his hands messy and sticky too many times eating from a cone.

He likes those crunchy silver chocolate sprinkles

Elias 'Scarecrow' Walker:

Has a bigger sweet tooth than both his sons combined

He'd definitely like ice creams with vague names that don't describe the flavour at all like 'Arabian Delight' or 'Tutti Frutti'

He'll eat any damn ice cream flavour there is. He's not picky even if it's disgusting, but mint-choc is where he draws the line; he doesn't like the toothpaste-y flavour

Doesn't mind eating ice cream out of anything. Cup, cone, tub, frisbee, Merrick's bald head (he was dared to once)

Prefers syrups rather than sprinkles

Thomas Merrick:

Not much of a sweet tooth, but has a little ice cream once in a while

I can see him liking hated flavours like mint-chocolate or pistachio. He likes mint-choc better.

He enjoys the minty sweetness while the rest cringe and gag as they relive the awful experience

Feels proud of the fact that he can enjoy and stomach hated flavours

Doesn't mind either cup or cone

Ice cream BITER if he eats from a cone or a choco bar. He's impatient

As an ice cream biter, he likes mochi ice cream

Prefers no toppings or syrups. Ice cream purist.

Keegan Russ:

Hates ice cream because they give him a crazy brain freeze plus his teeth are especially sensitive to cold food

If forced, he would probably eat cookies and cream flavour, but it HAS to be room temperature and partially melted into soup

His ice cream preferences have everyone giving him the side-eye, particularly from Logan.

The only way he'll have any ice cream at all is if it's an affogato, which he genuinely enjoys, or a slightly warm ice cream sandwich

Ice cream drinker

No toppings, but likes chocolate syrup

Kick:

Enjoys ice cream a lot!

Probably has the biggest sweet tooth among the Ghosts, even more than Elias

Likes exotic flavours like sapodilla, jackfruit, coconut, matcha, or even durian

He would never let his ice cream melt. Eats it at the right pace.

I can see him liking cones! He'd stack two or three scoops of ice cream on them

He'd definitely like those over-the-top milkshake/ice cream monstrosities topped with an ice cream sandwich, whip cream, toppings, cookies, candy canes, and what-not- the ones you eat like you have free healthcare

Ice cream licker- he would NEVER bite.

Will go heavy on toppings and syrups

Alex 'Ajax' Johnson:

For some reason, I feel like he'd be vegan and would prefer vegan ice creams

Moderate sweet tooth. Likes ice cream but it's not his favourite dessert

Likes the classic flavours like strawberry, vanilla, or chocolate

Prefers a cup over a cone. Who knows what non-vegan stuff the cone could be made of, plus he's not big on crunchy

He often makes his own ice creams with coconut milk and various fruits and they're actually delicious, much to the surprise of the other Ghosts.

He also makes choco bars

He makes Logan's supply of non-dairy ice cream

Not a big fan of toppings and syrups.

Neptune:

Not much is known about Neptune, but I'd like to think he's also a moderate ice cream fan like Merrick and Ajax

He'd probably like a flavour not very commonly known or eaten, like raspberry or blueberry

I can see him liking rolled ice cream and gelato a lot

Cup person, for sure

Likes whipped cream and gummy bears on his ice cream

Riley:

Good boy will put any damn thing in his mouth if he gets his paws on it, so the Ghosts are careful not to give him any ice cream even if he begs with his cute puppy eyes, since dogs are lactose intolerant

But Logan will secretly give Riley a little bit of his vegan vanilla ice cream because a small quantity will not hurt (don't tell Hesh though).

[mustainegf]

→ Masterpost

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝟐

It was a few blurred days of fear and exhaustion and more intense tides of emotion. My body was no longer my own; it seemed to be taken over by the tiny little life inside me.

For one thing, morning sickness was up and down, a cruel reminder of how really big a change was upon me, raging hormones, tears without any notice.

Through all this, James would not leave my mind. I knew I had to tell him. I just needed somehow to get him to hear me. But every time I'd pick up the phone, fear would just debilitate me. What if he didn’t care? What if he was too wrapped up in his world to hear me?

I finally mustered the courage to dial his number on this fourth day. With every click that rang, my heart pounded even more loudly. It was still in the mid hours of the afternoon, so hopefully he wouldn't be too busy. Maybe he would be at a quieter place, more willing to listen.

To my complete surprise, he answered after a few rings. "Hey," he said, slurring, and I could almost smell the alcohol on his breath as he said hello to me, even over the phone. Voices and laughter discernible in the background. The racket of all the noise made my heart sink.

"James," I began, working to keep my voice on steady ground. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

“Uh, Yeah, sure, what's up?" he replied, but even I could tell that his attention was elsewhere, that he wasn't focusing on me.

"James, are you even listening? This is serious- I need you sober." Silence again, then the sound of more talk. "I'm listening. Just.. just talk."

But he wasn't. I could hear it in his voice, see it in my mind's head.

"James, please," I begged. "I can't do this with you like this. Call me when you're fucking sober." My voice cracked on the last word, and I hung up before he could speak again, slamming the phone back down on the receiver.

I collapsed, clutching at my stomach as sobs shook me, sinking to sit on the cold kitchen floor. All the crushing loneliness, the fear, the disappointment. I pressed my hand against my belly, feeling that odd combination of love and horrifying fear.

"I'm sorry, baby," I wept. "I’m so sorry."

had hoped, naively, that James would be able to hear, be there for us at this moment.

"Daddy just doesn't get it…" I whispered to the baby.

There I sat for maybe hours, the tears finally melting into a weary tiredness. I couldn't rely on James, not yet. I had to find my strength, for me and for the little thing who was trying to grow inside me-it wasn't going to be easy.

I would do everything in my power to protect this baby, to give it the love it deserved. Any way that I could. Even if it meant doing it alone.

Hours melded into a weary blend of fatigue and sorrow. I had barely moved from the bed, my mind and body spent from the whipsaw that James' phone call had put my heart through. As dusk began to fall, I was jolted from my mood by a gentle rapping on my door.

I dragged myself into my feet and shambled towards the door. Wearily, I opened it.

Standing there was Connie, one of my best friends and Cliff's sister. The concern in her eyes was evident as she scanned me from top to bottom. Without even asking for an invitation, she stepped inside.

"You don’t look good," she whispered, shutting the door behind her. "What is happening?"

I tried to smile, but it felt superficial. "It's a really long story, Connie. There’s a lot in my head right now."

She took my hand and pulled me toward the couch, her eyes locked on my face. "Tell me what's wrong. I’ll listen."

I hesitated, feeling my secret crush in on me. I had wanted to keep it for myself until I had a clean idea about what to do, but the look in Connie's eyes made it difficult to continue with the charade.

She was one of the very few people I really trusted, and I knew she would be there for me no matter what.

I began, hardly above a whisper. “I'm pregnant."

Connie's eyes pulled full-wide, her arms drawing me smack into a tight hug. "Oh my god, wait is it…" she whispered. "Is it James’..?”

I clung to her with a nod, the tears beginning to flow for the millionth time. "I don't know what to do. I tried to tell James today, but he was drunk and surrounded by people. He could hardly listen to me."

She pulled back, a look of pure ferocity on her face. "That asshole. I'm sorry, he really needs to just get his act together. This is serious.”

I nodded, scrubbing at my eyes. "I know..."

Connie blew a breath, settling back against the couch cushions and taking my hand. "I'm here for you, and I know Cliff would be too."

The mention of Cliff lifted my lips a fraction. He used to be James's band member. Until a few years back, after the accident. I missed him. "That means a lot." I stammered.

She squeezed my hand, then peered deeper into my face. "But I can see something else is bothering you. What is it?"

I took s deep breath. My hesitation was clawing at me from the inside out. Connie wasn't letting up, wasn't being gentle- this was a hard truth to give voice to. "It's just… I'm scared. Scared of being a single mom, of raising a baby without James. And scared that maybe, deep down, I'm not strong enough for this."

Softening her eyes, she reached out to gently touch my cheek. "You're actually one of the strongest people I've known. You've been through so much already."

She smiled, but her face turned serious in the next second. "Hun, you should know something. About James.” Her words instantly gained my attention.

“Kirk told me that he is struggling much harder than he lets on. The partying, the drinking, it's worse than we thought. I think he's spiraling."

I felt as if she had punched me in the face. "I knew things were tough for him, but I didn't think it was that serious."

Connie nodded. "I wanted to tell you sooner, but I didn't know how. Maybe... maybe this baby is just the wake up call he needs. Maybe this is what he needs to turn his life around."

I let my breath out in a sigh and felt the weight settle in on me once again. "I hope so. I really do. I can't fix James. He has to want to fix himself."

She nodded. "You're right. And I’ll be here to help you."

We sat there a while longer. It felt good to have Connie there, reminding me I wasn't completely alone.

And maybe, just maybe, James and I weren't past redemption after all.

It was late. I was so tired. I was tired physically. My body hurt. My eyes were tired. My eyes were burning, actually burning, from lack of sleep. But I just could not seem to fall asleep. The baby refused to let me rest. Sighing in defeat, for the moment, I gave up on sleep and reached for the photo album on my bedside table.

I had placed it there because I found myself drawn to it more and more these days. The familiar faces and places greeted me as I flipped it open.

The first picture that vulgarly caught my eye was one of us at a concert, perhaps from around 84’. We were so young, so full of life and dreams. James had his long blonde hair, strewn all over his shoulders, with just that unmistakable grin lighting up his lovely face. He was in his element then, a rising metal star, and, right there beside him, was I, beaming with pride for the man.

I traced my finger over his face, the tears Well up again. How had we ended up this way? I missed him so much it hurt. The Man in these photos seemed to be a million miles away, fundamentally, another person.

But as I continued to turn the Pages, I was remembering the boy he was, the sweet, shy boy Who stole my heart.

Another photo showed us at a friend's house, James goofing off with his bandmates. He had his arm slung around me. He was pulling me in close. We both wore matching goofy smiles. He was wearing his favorite misfits shirt, and I remembered how he could always tell me stories about the bands that he loved.

I smiled through the tears, for all I could do was remember how adorable and dorky he had been. Beneath the rock star facade was this tender, sweet man who loved hard.

This was what I missed, the side of him that would take my hand and promise me everything would be all right, that would stay up late into the night, talking to me about our future and all the things we wanted to do together.

The next picture was of James at this party, trying to look tough while holding this tiny, fluffy little kitten, the contrast just hilarious because he ended up laughing along with everyone else, breaking the tough guy facade.

As I turned another page, I came across a photo from one of our road trips. On rare occasions, we would drive out to the beach, just the two of us, and spent the day swimming and lying in the sand. The picture showed us snugged up in a towel, my head nestled into his shoulder, both of us looking totally content. It was a totally perfect day, one of many that we had.

The tears came easily now; it was all mixed feelings of sadness and nostalgia really. I longed for my Jamie, the little boy who grew to be the man the metal world came to worship. He's this icon of a giant of a man to the world but to me he was my James, my forever love.

But as I looked down at my growing belly, I knew that wasn't possible. Life had moved on. For that reason, and for this baby that was part of him, part of us, I insisted to myself that I would be strong.

I closed the photo album and held it to my chest, whispering into the night, "I miss you, Jamie. I wish you were here."

The night continued on then, my words left for only my ears. Maybe this baby would be the change, the reason James finally would see what was important.

For the time being at least, I would cling to these memories. I would then be strong for our child and believe that someday, James would find his way back to us.

And with that thought, I finally fell asleep with the photo album lying beside me. The silent guardian of the past and hope for the future.

[wellnoe]

have you ever done an art tutorial? i'd really like to know how you draw faces, it just looks so cool!!

i don't have a super detailed process for drawing faces!

regardless:

like most people i start with head construction. these days i usually have a pretty good idea of what the head/face shape i want looks like from the beginning. i always draw where the ear is, to help show the head angle, and i also draw lines to show the center of the face and where the brows will be. i sometimes also draw the mouth's expression here.

i start placing features next! I usually draw in the philtrum and more details around the nose bridge to give a sense of depth to the drawing. also i find thinking of the eyebrow/eyes/nosebridge as a mask shape very helpful...the eyebrows and the bottom ridge of the eye socket basically create a diamond shape around each eye.

when i draw cyclops, i use a squarer shape, which i then use as the foundation for his glasses rather than eyes. i use the brow-ridge line as the guide for the top of his glasses.

from there i usually just add a bit more detail to define the slopes of the face around the cheeks, brows and chin. I'm very impressed by people who can draw ears well, but I mostly just squiggle around until they look right. i also usually have to add more depth to the back of the head at this point bc I am eternally making heads too shallow.

in general i think its really helpful to think of the face as a series of planes that you are trying to describe! lines go at the edges of those planes.

[ids in ALT]

[peach-sea]

old animal ocs, Rox (a raccoon, they), Tobi (a possum, they, ze/hir, cra/craft, patch, button), and Rosabelle (a cat, she)