#but! the longer boots make a similar shape to it and

[ded-lime]

my attempt at lily versions

[thegnomelord]

if you write a thing about the creaming the zussy i will kiss ur boots

The boots better be shining when you're done.

How To Cure Zombies 101

CW:NSFW MDNI, crackfic obv PiV sex, TLOU Clicker trans Ghost, Top Male Reader, established relationship, happy ending, dub-con because Simon consented before he got bit but reader is apprehensive, zombie sex (does it count as necro?) how does this work? idk porn logic. Don't ask me how this happened, i hope this doesn't become what my blog becomes known for.

When the Cordyceps spread across the planet and turned millions of people into shambling mushroom infested undead, the world ended.

When Simon got bitten. . . your world ended.

You still remember it like it had been yesterday; He came back bloody, an empty look in his eyes as he showed you the bite on his arm. Your hands shook as he wrapped them around the grip of the gun and aimed it at his head. You both ended up on the floor with you crying into his chest, unable to pull the trigger.

You remember the resigned look in his eyes when he had agreed to let you do whatever you needed to him to cure him, but both of you knew there was no way, what made you immune to the fungus was as mysterious to the rest of the world as it was for you. His lips had been burning hot when he laid a soft kiss on your forehead, the last sense of warmth you've felt since the docs took him to where they kept the infected for study, your heart leaving with him.

And now?

Now the scientists that have been prodding you like a lab rat since Simon got bitten nearly a year ago say they have a way to bring his mind back, to get Simon back.

And the way to do it?

"So let me get this straight?" You begin, your voice tense, your body even tenser. "You want me to fuck the corpse of my lover? And that will cure him?"

That. You're not sure how the eggheads arrived to this conclusion, frankly all of their scientific jargons had flown over your head. All you understood was that the man you had fallen since the first time you met him could be brought back.

You sincerely hope you won't make some type of super fungus through this.

Words can't describe what you feel as you look at Simon's (is it even Simon?) bound body writhing on the gyno chair, naked and bare to you. You doubt you even know what you feel, hope and fear simultaneously curling in your stomach— You hadn't had the courage to look at him ever since the scientists took him away; The harsh laboratory lights make it easy to see the mycelium filling his veins beneath the ashy pale skin, mushroom caps growing beneath his pecs and across all other scars he has. Red and yellow mushrooms have eaten away his nose and spread out to follow the contours of his face, growing in a way that makes the mushroom caps blend together into a skull shape.

Your heart aches when you see his eyes haven't been eaten away yet, the once deep brown turned milky white and staring lifelessly past you, thrashing about in the bindings, rotten teeth gnawing on the ball gag in his mouth, small hisses and malformed muffled clicks echoing through the room.

You try to look down and you stop at his stomach, forcing yourself to breathe in and out slowly because your heart is beating so fast it feels like you'll have a panic attack. You have no idea if this will work and doing this to Simon only to find out it's as useless as all your previous attempts to cure him. . . you're sure it would break you. Closing your eyes and counting to ten you will yourself to focus, your eyes opening slowly and following the trail of little mushroom caps down to his groin.

It's not what you expected., but it's. . . a lot; Mushroom caps have replaced the lips of his cunt, similar to the hard growths on his head but these look thinner and longer, almost like flower petals framing his cunt, bright red at the corners and getting progressively lighter as it nears his hole. A sort of morbid curiosity compels you to reach out brushing your fingertips against the caps. They're surprisingly softer than you had expected, smooth and slick with some kind of slime. You can't help but notice how a longer stalked mushroom grows from what had been his clit.

You jerk your hand back when a second brush of your fingers makes his body to jerk back and attempt to fight against the restraints, more angry clicks vibrating his throat.

But you also notice a kind of… sweet scent in the air and it's coming from him. Cautiously you brush against the caps again, slowly dipping your fingers under to touch the gills underneath. You keep your hand where it is when he thrashes again, but you're certain that smell is stronger now, and you catch the glimpse of clear viscous slick slowly leak from his hole.

Carefully you push a finger into his hole in an attempt to stretch him out. Logically you know that he probably doesn't feel it, but it feels wrong to just stick your cock in him; He's cold. You know he's dead but you had held out some hope that he would be warmer, that there would be some signs of life despite how stupid that sounds.

He's dry right now, but more of that clear fluid seeps around your fingers and lubes the way as you experimentally push your finger all the way up to the last knuckle, and you felt his muscles flutter around you, clenching down as if trying to draw you in deeper. His head continued to thrash around, no change in the feral behavior, but you still try to be gentle, pushing one then two fingers in and slowly scissoring him open.

You pull your fingers out when his hole has relaxed enough to let you easily slide your fingers in and out, and he's produced enough slick to completely drench your hand. You try to look at him as you press your cock against his fluttering hole, but the sight of his milky eyes almost makes you soft on the spot so you screw your eyes closed and slowly slide in.

Despite how cold and wet his cunt is, you haven't felt anyone's touch, even your own, since he got infected, and a part of you feels disgusted at how a bit of pleasure traces up your spine. He continues to hiss and click as you bottom out, his hips bucking wildly you have to press them down. You set a slower pace than you're used to, keeping your thrusts even and consistent, afraid to tear anything but your fear is seemingly misplaced. He's so much wetter than he'd ever get before he got infected, slick wetly squelching as you bottom out over and over again, clicks and snarls accompanying every move you make.

You're ashamed to say you don't last long. Fuck, is he tight you've been ignoring your body for so long that when you accidentally brush against the stalk growing from his clit and his cunt suddenly tightens up like a vice you cum on the spot, your hips doing little minute twitches as you empty so much of your cum in his cunt that your balls hurt. You pull out just as slowly, both of your mixed fluids leaking out and almost getting caught by the soft mushrooms framing his hole.

You muster up the courage to look him in the eyes, and your heart breaks when his lifeless eyes blindly stare back at you.

You feel like a fool when the first time doesn't work, he's still just a body pupated by a fungus. And you feel like an even bigger fool when you agree to do this a second time.

But the third time. . .

You don't know if it's just wishful thinking but he seems more. . . alert. His head always follows you when you approach him but now his milky eyes almost seem to be looking at your face instead of staring straight through you. He's strangely still on the chair, teeth gnawing on the ball gag but he doesn't try to get out of the restraints.

He doesn't screech when you gently caress the soft outer mushroom caps framing his cunt, instead his chest vibrates with more deep clicks. Nor does he start to wildly writhe on the chair when you slowly sink a finger into his cunt, finding it's already wet with slick. If anything he almost seems to chase(more like stumble) after the sensation, his hips doing small little movements to push your finger deeper into him.

Emboldened by childish hope you do something you hadn't before and reach with your other hand to slowly trace the long stalk of the clitshroom (not a term you coined), before rubbing the base of the cap like you would your own cock.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the gentle pressure of your fingers makes him buck into your hands and let out an ear-piercing screech that the gag has trouble muffling. You pull your hands away and that worsens the problem, the shrieking turning into literal chest rumbling snarls as Simon starts to struggle against the bindings.

Panic rushing down your system you put your hands were they were, gently stroking the 2 inch long mushroom growing from his clit. His hips buck up to chase after your hand, the snarls reverting back into shrieks, but as you stroke him longer they gradually die down to low pitched clicks and whistles. You're stumped; the clicks sound a lot like a cat's puff, his hole fluttering and clenching around your fingers as you slowly push them inside.

He's warmer now, not quite how he was before, but not cold as a corpse either. You know that you've gone completely mad by the fact he starts to gyrate his hips— grinding down just as you get knuckles deep so your fingers can brush against the sensitive spots inside him — makes your mind think that it's a bit of your Simon coming back.

You shake your head and pull your hands away, taking hold of his trembling thighs. You're greeted with another deep snarl but he quiets down immediately when you start to slowly push into him. He feels even tighter now, and you watch how his head falls back on the headrest, a long series of low clicks and whistles squirming past the gag.

His hips move to meet your slow thrusts, tight warm walls squeezing down every time you attempt to pull out just like he used to do. And that thought has your body increasing the pace automatically, your balls slapping against his ass, every sharp thrust hitting something spongy inside him and drawing out a sharp click, the rough pace leaving you panting.

Mindlessly you look up, too caught up in the moment remembering how Simon loved eye contact to remember the situation you're in.

He's looking straight at you.

You halt mid thrust, the low hiss he lets out falling on deaf ears as you tilt your head to the side. You're not insane, his eyes follow you. They're still milky, but they don't look through you. He's looking at you.

Another rough clicking sound leaves him and he thrusts his hips down against yours with enough strength to bruise, almost impatient. Despite how stupid it is you reach out and quickly unbuckle the gag with trembling fingers. "Si?" You say, unable to hide the hope in your voice. "Are you there?" You lean over him, looking hopefully into his eyes. "Do you remember me?"

His jaw moves like he's munching on a survivor, but all that leaves his mouth are more clicks and rough grunts.

Fuck. You are a fool.

A sob tears through your chest before you can stop it, ducking your head down to lay it on his chest. You're unable to keep the fresh tears from falling on him, watering the damned mushrooms that had taken him from you. You can't stop the sobs from coming, your back bowed and shoulders shaking as you cry just as much as the day you first lost him.

His chest vibrates with another long series of clicks and whistles, just pouring salt on the gaping would in your chest.

Your name rights through the room.

It's scratchy, rough, almost incomprehensible to your ears, but it's your name.

You look up so quickly you almost snap his neck. "Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. "Are you in there?" You slowly reach out to hold his face, careful not to cut your hands on the sharp mushroom caps along his cheeks.

He looks at you back, jaw moving still, but he doesn't try to bite the flesh of your palms despite your hands being right there. "Ckckck-" He clicks, pupils going from pinpricks to blown out, "Ckckrkck- Mo- ckck-ve." He manages, a thrust of his hips accompanying the order.

Your heart leaps to your throat and you can do nothing but follow it, sliding one hand down to dig your nails into his thigh, looming over him as you pull out until only the head is inside and them slam into him that there's an audible clap of skin on skin as you bottom out. A half shriek half click half "Yes!" escapes him as he throws his head back, slack jawed.

A whole range of noises escapes him as you hammer into him with all you've got, one hand remaining always on his face. You can feel him getting hotter the longer you pound into him, body shaking as each thrust nails his sensitive spot. He gets progressively tighter and tighter as you fuck into him, and you let go of his thigh to carefully strike along the long shaft of the clitshroom.

He shrieks at the top of his lungs and his cunt clenches down on you like a vice, fluttering around you and gripping your cock like it doesn't want you to pull out. It pulls you into an orgasm,

"Simon?" You whisper, staying in him even as you feel yourself soften. He's too silent compared to how vocal he had been a few moments ago. "Are you in there?"

His head rolls a bit, peering at you through through his lashes, tongue moving heavily in his mouth and lips twitching up into a soft of barely-there grin. "Cckck- l- ckckc- love- ckrk-you -ckkckrkckck-"

Taglist: @dead-end-stuff

[sweetnothingtm]

RUTHLESS// simon riley x reader

pairing simon riley x f!reader

word count 4.6k

content warning rough sex, knife play, degradation, oral sex, the mask stays on!

authors note i hope you enjoy you dirty little freaks. thank you for everything ♡

It’s an honest mistake - really. Had you known any better you would’ve kept it right where he left it.

But you can’t help yourself, lingering just a moment longer to stare at the blade that shines in the light. Its tip was stuck in the wall, the black hilt of the knife worn from use. Soap is calling your name, but you stay put, lip caught between your teeth.

It’s the lieutenants, his initials engraved into it - and you pocket it without a second thought.

You hide it from him like a dirty secret.

At first, you reason that it’s a good knife - a waste of potential to be left in the wall. It’s been polished and sharpened, the tip of the blade pricking into your finger. You had to keep it, you thought. Despite the fact that he would eventually come back for it, eyebrows drawn in confusion at the empty hole where it used to stick. You don’t necessarily use it, but you keep it on you at all times. It rests in your breast pocket, your heart beating against it even now.

A reminder of him. All the little unspoken truths and harbored emotions that you kept from him.

Then you think he could've asked for it back. You don’t admit that you have it, but if he wants it then he’ll try to find it. You have a bad habit to absentmindedly stare at him during briefings, and you notice the empty spot on his vest. It’s a similar shape to the knife.

You’ve been free falling for the lieutenant since the day you met him. Always a little too desperate and eager, you did your best to please. Arriving early for meetings, being the first one up, getting your report and handing it to him finished not a day later. He’d catch your gaze, cocking an eyebrow almost as if in challenge. You’d blush, breaking his stare and shoving down all those months of pining.

He taught you how to aim, how to disassemble your weapons and put them back together, hell- he’d just about taught you how to breathe. A ghost that’s hellbent on haunting the living, he kept you waiting patiently and obediently. You just needed a sign - something to tell you that he sees you.

The lieutenant doesn’t ask for it back. Yet. You’re starting to fall asleep looking at it, eyes half lidded and thumb rubbing over the hilt softly. It flips between your hands under the table at meetings, head in the clouds with your superior storming your thoughts.

The initials are ingrained in your memory like it was branded. SR. You start to carve it in bathrooms, trees, your bed frame. It’s shameful to admit, but having a piece of him is nice to carry. It’s because he’s your boss, the guy whose job it is to keep you alive. You’re just being sentimental for a friend.

Sometimes you wonder if he knows it’s gone. There’s a part of you that hopes you’ll never have to give it back.

Eventually you’re beginning to treat it like it’s your own. You carry it with you like a lost piece to a puzzle. It’s got a spot on the inside of your vest, hidden from his eyes. You let it dance on your skin in boredom, and use it to cut stray threads off you. But you can’t cut the lieutenant loose.

Your eyes are blinking away boredom and disinterest, head hung low as the drowning deep voice of Ghost continues on. It’s late, and you’re tapping your boot impatiently as Johnny and Kyle are making small talk about the stupidest shit.

The knife clicks open and closed, fingers unconsciously brushing against the blade. You really just need a shower and eight hours of sleep, but time is ticking away.

Think Lt will let us sleep in tomorrow?

Not a chance, Soap

Bastard doesn’t even sleep. It’s not fair

You feel like kicking yourself to stay awake. Yawns are bubbling up from your chest, shoulders sagging in exhaustion. It’s been a half hour since he started talking about procedures, protocols, what to do if blah blah blah. You fiddle with the knife in your hands, glancing down at the initials. Simon Riley. You wish you were in bed, the soft glow of your lamp illuminating your favorite kept secret.

He can tell too, and it’s infuriating him. You’re messing with your hands, lip caught between your teeth as your leg bounces in the chair. You rest your arms on the table, leaning forward and absentmindedly playing with something. Then he sees it, the black hilt that’s worn from the grip of his hand. It’s got the same engraving too, the one he got custom done his first day on the force.

You took it.

Simon didn’t think you’d have it - just a sneaking suspicion. He’s lost it before, usually to find it the next day in his jeans. Yet he saw you leaving, cheeks scarlet as you avoided his gaze. Your hands were shoved deep in your pockets, mumbling soft apologies as he brushed past you and back into the room. It wasn’t there, though.

He missed it. Simon carried it with him everywhere, like it was a part of him. It’s the only knife he owns, always wiping it clean at the end of the night. It twists between his fingers at night, the hilt worn from the palm of his hand. He would lazily flick it open, thumb rubbing along the edge of the knife. He thought he’d find it by now - but there you are, treating it with the same care that he has.

The lieutenant pauses, words trailing off as he stares at the familiar blade. You glance up, catching his gaze with eyes that are dark and heavy. You blink once, twice, straightening and looking down to your hands where the open knife lays. You freeze, the air around you running cold. Heart faltering and chest tightening, you wait with baited breath. Never has the truth been laid so bare before you. His eyes are kept on your face, pinning you in your seat. Does he know?

The lieutenant breaks your gaze, leaning back against the desk and crossing his arms. You’re absolutely mortified, shoving the knife in your back pocket and biting your tongue. Johnny looks to Ghost, pausing his conversation with Kyle at the unexpected silence. You’re distracting yourself by looking at anywhere but him, breaths uneven and shoulders tight with anxiety.

Ghost takes a moment to regain his control, mind clouded with the image of you playing with his knife. He runs a hand down the haunting white mask that separates you from him. Still wearing the uniform and gear, his hand rests on the empty spot of his vest as his eyes drag straight back to you.

He has to know.

“Johnny, Gaz - take your gossip outside. We’ll reconvene tomorrow,” he states, leaving no room for questions. The lieutenant breaths a long sigh, head cocking to the side as you blush a deep red. You whip your head to him, standing up straight at the sound of your name. He doesn’t dismiss you. The boys nod begrudgingly, standing up and stretching while grunting goodbyes as they shuffle out of the room. The door swings shut, clicking back into place and leaving you stranded.

It’s just the two of you, a thick and nauseating tension arises as moments slip by in an uncomfortable quiet. Your hands are balled into fists out of anxious habit, nails digging into the palms for your hands. He’s shrugging off the vest, peeling off his gloves and tossing everything on a nearby chair. His bare hands brace against the side of the desk, eyes staring straight through you.

“That’s my favorite knife that you stole,” he says, voice patronizing as you stupidly blink at him with innocence in your eyes. Your mouth opens and shuts quickly, head spinning with all the ways you can lie yourself through this.

“I don’t have it, maybe you lost it?” You say, shifting uncomfortably as he cocks an eyebrow at you. He looks at you as though you’re on fire, burning up with every lie that you feed him. You fumble, shaking your head at him and letting poor bluffs take the lead, “I just bought this one. I got it from a store in-“

“You’re a bad fucking liar.”

You freeze, words stuck in your throat as his voice rings in your ears. You’ve been caught like a deer in the headlights, eyes widening and panic setting in. His fingers drum against the side of the desk, and he almost looks like he’s found his new pet not behaving.

Glancing to the door, you swallow a thick ball of fear. It’s a few feet away, right there and waiting for you to run. Excuses and dishonesty coat your senses, trying to cover up lost tracks as you look longingly to the exit. The knife sits heavy in your pocket, a ruthless and terrible reminder of the fact that it doesn’t belong to you. You should’ve given it to him when you had the chance.

He waits for you to answer, and he’s gritting his teeth every second you stare at him all pretty and dumb - like you don’t know a goddamn thing. Honestly, a part of him feels a little prideful that you kept it in the first place. You intoxicate and torture him, forcing him to keep distance from the forest fire he wants to call home. The lieutenants been waiting for you to spark since the day he met you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lie, voice struggling to stay even as his eyes narrow at your words. You try your best to remain calm as the lieutenant continues to stare, skin flushed with fear as he shakes his head at you. “You’re a rotten brat, you know that?” He spits, watching with hate as you look away with your chin held high. You won’t admit defeat, not until it’s ripped from you with prying hands.

“It’s got my fucking name on the blade, sweetheart-“ he grounds out, leaning forward as his eyes burn into your own. “And unless you’ve got it branded on you too, I’d suggest being a good girl and giving it back.”

The room is laced with a thick silence while you shiver where you stand. You nod meekly to him from across the table, letting loose an uneven breath. You hold his gaze, stomach churning with months of suppressed fear and unrequited adoration. You speak to him softly, as if your voice is made of truth.

“You left it, and I found it. It’s mine now,”

He laughs at you, the sound hateful and violent in your ears. He pushes himself off the desk where he leans, the mask building a wall of irritation around him. His footsteps land heavy as he’s crossing the room, sauntering towards you with a determined look in his eyes. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he states, shaking his head condescendingly at you.

Three steps, and he’s right in front of you. His figure towers over you, face tilted down to look at you. He smells like tobacco and pine, and you notice the spread of ink that peeks out from his sleeve. A finger grazes under your chin, lifting your gaze to meet his dark eyes. “Give it back.”

It’s a losing game, and you’re trying desperately to win. You shake your head, biting down on your tongue to stop yourself. No.

The lieutenant drags over a chair, exhaling heavily as he takes a seat. His legs are spread, a hand resting on his thigh as you shake under his touch. He looks away for a moment, as if he’s mulling over something. Tsking softly to himself, he reaches a hand out and hooks it into your vest before tugging you down, “patience is wearing thin, sweetheart. I want it back, now.”

Your breath fans hot against his mask, eyes widening in shock as his grip tightens on you. His eyes are swimming with a haunting rage. The careful distance you’ve kept from his is crumbling, heart skipping a beat to catch up with the lieutenant. He pulls you closer, and you’re tripping under yourself as the mask stares back at you in challenge.

“I’m sorry, sir-” you whisper under your breath, the tip of your shoes hitting his boots as your shoulders sag. “I’m keeping it,” you say honestly, letting the shame wash over you. There’s nowhere to hide, all the time spent trying to get him to see you when you should’ve been running.

“Wrong answer.”

His hand drags you down and over him, knees pressing into your stomach as the breath is stolen from you. His hand finds its place along the back of your head, keeping you down as his fingers run along your back. Head spinning with all the ways in which you’ve been waiting for this, you squirm on his lap and brace your hands under you and on his thigh.

The lieutenants face drops down to you, mask brushing against your cheek. Your mind is blank now, the feel of his hot breath against your skin causing you to freeze. His dog tags dangle over your back, brushing against your shirt. “You should really mind your manners,” he admits, plucking the knife from your back pocket. “You know better than this.”

Your ass hangs up and over his knee, his hand resting along your upper thigh to keep you in place. The blade clicks open, and he lets loose a chuckle as he appreciates it. He flips it between his fingers out of sight, pulling back your hair as it takes place against your throat. Your eyes squeeze shut at the touch, the cool metal pressed against your skin and causing you to shiver.

There’s a moment where it’s just the two of you in silence. You count your breaths, biting your cheek and waiting patiently for the lieutenant to make his next move. Apologies are at the tip of your tongue, but fall short as his blade runs along your skin.

A sickening smack lands against your ass, body jumping from the unexpected touch. Desire runs up and along your spine, head cloudy with longing for a ghost in your haunted home. You can feel his hand rub softly into your skin, breath coming loose as he pulls away. “Lieutenant - please, I’m so sorry-”

Another smack, this time harder as it leaves a sting. “Simon - don’t you remember, love? That’s the name I’m gonna carve into your fucking skin,” he spits, digging the tip of his knife into your throat as you nod to him. Heat is pooling between your thighs that rub together in anticipation, lip caught between your teeth as you peel open your eyes and glance over your shoulder to him.

You regret ever having bothered.

He stares at you with a hateful lust, a smirk playing on his lips that are just out of your sight. Simon dips his fingers between your thighs and rubs soft circles, savoring the way you melt under his touch. You wiggle your hips, shifting on his knees and spreading your legs open just an inch. He notices, sending another smack to your ass. “Filthy,” he laughs, two fingers dragging along the wet desire that continues to grow within you. “You’re not even sorry - are you?”

You shake your head, nails digging into his thigh as his fingertips dig into your clit. “I am - I didn’t mean to steal it - I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Simon,”

His name is unexpected as it falls from you, but you say it like it belongs to you. The bulge in his pants is growing, dick twitching at the way you squirm on his lap. All those months spent dreaming of you on your knees is starting to catch up with him, and he just can’t run away. He grits his teeth, the sound of his name on your lips sending him straight to hell. Good thing he’s friends with the devil.

Simon’s hands leave you suddenly, the knife clicking closed and set onto the table. He grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you back until your neck is craned and your eyes begin to water at the pain. “If you really are sorry - then get on your knees and ask for forgiveness.”

He abruptly pushes you off his lap, and you tumble to the ground with your head smacking against the floor. You pull air into your lungs desperately, body recoiling from the shock of being thrown off of him. Hands pushing from under you to brace yourself, you look to him with innocent wide eyes and full lips that wobble in fear. He leans back in the chair, arms braced on the sides as he looks at your expectantly.

Shamefully, you crawl between his legs and sit on your knees. The knife sits alone on the table, watching you mockingly as you blink up to Simon. There’s a wide grin spread across his face, though you’re not able to see it. The mask keeps you from him, a careful distance that he isn’t willing to give up yet.

“I’m really sorry,” you mumble softly, blushing crimson as his hands fall to his belt. “I’m sorry.” He unbuckles the belt, dragging down the zipper as his eyes remain on your pretty little face with eyes glossy from tears. He’s nodding to you, pushing down the waist of his pants until you’re staring at the swollen tip of his dick that’s wet from pre cum.

“I know you are - but I want to see you beg.”

His hand comes to lazily stroke himself, hissing as he squeezes the tip of himself. Your hands gently rest against his knees, chest coiling tight with a familiar ache. You sit there patient, waiting for his approval as Simon jerks himself off. The heat between your legs is burning, heart struggling to keep a steady pace.

Then he gives a small nod, hands drifting to the side as your mouth waters. You lean forward, little lips parting wide. Simon sighs softly as your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing and eyes fluttering closed.

Your head bobs in his lap, hand coming to stroke what you can’t take. His hand tangles itself in your hair, guiding your movements slowly. Your tongue dances along his tip, his hips bucking at the touch and fingers tightening their grip. Simon lets his head fall back, waves of pleasure rocking through him at the way you hum against his dick. “Shit, you’re such a nasty slut,” he laughs out.

Lips dragging along his shaft, you take him inch by devastating inch without hesitation. Your nails are digging into his knees, clawing at him to take control as he begins to unravel. His shoulders drop, groans pulled from him when drool dribbles out from your lip and onto him.

Simon watches as you force him to the base of your throat, soft gargling sounds emitting from you. You can’t take all of him, but your hand massages the rest of his shaft, the touch soft and delicate. His head is cloudy with desire, forcing your head further down until you start to choke, tears blurring your vision. He’s abandoning all self control, letting it slip from his fingertips like a thread of gold. Doesn’t matter when you’re on your knees for him, sucking his dick like its the only thing you’ve dreamed of.

“There’s my good girl,” he says, hips bucking into your mouth. You’re humming, bobbing your head yes as you continue to let him fuck your mouth. He feels sick with pleasure, hand pushing you further along his dick until he’s seeing stars.

You’re eagerly on your knees, chest tightening with every moan that fires from Simons lips and aims straight to you. It’s got you feeling confident, sitting up on your knees and licking your tongue along the bottom of him. “Fuck - that’s it, sweetheart,” he grounds out, and you’re pressing your thighs together to stop yourself from dripping. You look up at him, dick caught in your throat and eyes sparkling with obedience.

Your teeth drag along his shaft, causing him to slam your head down. You choke, struggling to pull back and catch your breath. “Bloody hell,” he muses, the pad of his thumb rubbing into your cheek softly. You pull away, lips smacking as you try to control your uneven breaths. Simon watches as you rub the drool and spit from your lips, eyes turning a shade darker when you give him an innocent smile.

“Come here.”

When you stand, his fingers push themselves between your thighs. His hand comes to undo your pants, your lip caught between your teeth as you wait patiently for him. He’s pushed down the hem of your pants, hands coming to grip your waist. You stand there silently, holding your breath when he glances up to you. “Well? Show me how sorry you are,”

It takes you a moment to peel away your clothes, strewn on another chair where his things lie. Your cheeks are bright red with embarrassment as your arms snake around his neck, hesitantly coming to sit in his lap. He leans over to grab the knife, flicking it open again and pressing it against your chest. “Simon,” you breath softly, fingertips brushing along the base of his neck.

“Can you forgive me?”

He shakes his head at you, muttering filthy curses as his fingers dig into your waist. You’ve been waiting for this, soaked through and blind with guilt, you let the tip of him brush against your folds. Simon drags the knife to your throat, watching you with his breath held as you sink slowly onto his dick.

It’s a feeling you’ve only ever dreamed of. He pushes into you completely, heart beginning to falter and freeze at the pure pleasure that spreads between you. Your stomach is tightening, hips grinding into him softly. “Oh, sweetheart,” he breathes, the hold on his knife tightening until his knuckles are white. “I’m considering it.”

It wouldn’t be so bad - to spend the rest of your life chasing after this high.

Hesitation has been tossed aside, breaths becoming in sync as he watches with baited breath as you grind into his lap and mewl out moans.

You pull yourself up with shaking thighs, falling back into him and letting a moan slip past your lips. You bounce on his dick, hips rolling and grinding with his knife pressed against your throat. Disgraceful slick wet sounds are ringing in your ears like a sickening melody. His hands are pressing and pulling you down, his hips bucking up with your movements.

Simon garbs a handful of your ass, keeping you in balance as you ride him ruthlessly. The knot of pleasure is tying itself tight, and you’re whining in his ear from the ecstasy “That’s it - look at you, such a good girl riding my dick.”

“Mm-mm,” you moan, head falling into the crook of his neck as he drags the knife to your chest, letting the tip press against your skin. “Please - please, I’m so sorry, Simon,” you gasp out, tightening your arms around his neck as he slams his hips into you.

His touch is rough and ruthless, impatient with pleasure as he smacks your ass that’s now red with his handprint. His. The thought sends him spiraling, groaning loudly. Simon lets you roll into him, bouncing in his lap with his breath fanning hot against your neck. “Careful,” he laughs against you, fingers traveling to your clit to rub harsh circles. “I just might think you like this.”

And you do. In fact, you’re overwhelmed by the sensational desire that’s boiling within you. Your moans are becoming desperate, nails scarping along his shoulder blades as he continues to fuck you. Your eyes are squeezed shut, practically hanging off of him as he rubs the wet pleasure between your thighs.

It’s just the two of you. His hand is greedily snapping your hips back to him, and you meet the touch eagerly. There’s a fire that’s building within you - and neither of you can smother it out. Your chest is tightening, lips mumbling out pathetic moans as Simon laughs, the sound dark and tantalizing. “You do - don’t you?” He asks, and you’re nodding into his neck with pleas rippling off of you. “I know you do, I bet your pretty little pussy is gonna cum on my dick-” he states, suddenly grabbing your throat and forcing you to look at him.

You hold his stare, mewling out and begging for him as he rubs quickly. You’re losing your sanity, hips eagerly grinding into his lap until a simmering heat takes a hold of you, crying out in pleasure. “Right about now.” He finishes, watching as you smile innocently at him.

He still fucks you though, riding out your orgasm as he chases after his own.

It only takes him another moment until he’s following you, sloppy and lazy thrusts into your hips. Simon is grounding out your name, gritting his teeth and savoring the way your slick cunt tightens around him. His head falls back against the chair, breath hot and uneven as he snaps and slams his hips into you one last time.

Then you’re sitting pretty and patient in his lap, letting him grow soft in you with your lip caught in between your teeth. Your eyes are glossed over with happiness, stomach flipping as he closes the blade and leaves a hand resting against your waist. Seconds slip by in silence, buy neither of you seem to mind. His breath is slowly untangling itself from yours, gaze dark and haunting.

When you peel yourself away from him, shaking hands pulling up your pants and blushing scarlet, he tugs you closer to him. You button your pants, still wet from the way Simon pulled all those dirty little secrets from you like they were his to begin with. He lets his hands slide to your ass, giving it a final squeeze.

“Such a good girl,” he says softly, a smile playing at his lips as you blush deeper. He stands, cupping your face in his hands and looking at you with the same adoration that you’ve given him for months. “I think you’ve learned your lesson - yeah, sweetheart?”

You nod up to him eagerly, the strings of your heart snapping and breaking as he pulls himself from you. “Uh-huh,” you breathe, and you mean it. He brushes a strand of hair from your face, letting his finger commit the feel of your skin to memory.

“Be good for me - get some rest, love.”

He left the knife in your back pocket, and it sits there now - waiting for him to come back.

[say-hi-intrepid-heroes]

some simple things i've done recently to affirm my queer identity (in no particular order and not professional cause i haven't really slept in a week)

for context: i am an AFAB genderfluid person who has a body shape that is too curvy to be conventionally androgynous, and my current situation prevents me from making any drastic visible changes like hair dye or extreme haircuts)

got a septum piercing (easy to hide in a pinch)

wearing platform converse (specifically the ones with boot treads, similar to doc martens but not as obvious and not as warm)

getting hair cut at a shoulder length that can either be interpreted as feminine or masculine (aragorn vibes depending on how it's styled)

wearing longer length sports bras (not as troublesome as a binder, ideal for days where we're fluctuating between masc and fem)

wearing interesting rings (gender neutral queer vibes, plus a fidget)

buying slightly oversized button down long sleeve shirts (can be any gender presentation based on styling, ideal for when we have temperature fluctuations due to cuffable sleeves)

learning how to do simple eyeliner with eyeshadow (the slightly smudged black eyeliner look is very gender neutral imo but low maintenance so it's perfect for daily life)

learning to contour without doing full face makeup (found a cream contour that helps emphasize certain parts of my face if i want to look a little more masculine)

found one easily removable item that validates my identity (for me this was a pin that says "Femininity is Gender Neutral" that is easily removable if i'm in an environment that is unfriendly to that)

i've always found it kind of difficult to correctly express my queer identity, given what limited things i could do in my situation and the nature of my physical body. hopefully these can be a bit encouraging if you're in a similar situation <3

[armythings-love]

I’m gonna cry… I had an entire analysis for this typed out but my wifi is shit so it refused to post😭😭 anyways, this is based off of the @ladybugout-au permanent superhero team. I decided against doing Luka’s Cadmeancio suit because I 1. Didn’t want to draw him in orange and 2. I was already pushing it with making a purple/red Neurofoxin. Only reason I made her purple is because natural coloring obviously doesn’t mean shit to the character designers if Juleka gets to be a purple red tiger. Anyways, here’s my take on their suits!

Hecattack: I wanted to diverge from the furry/bdsm influences Chat’s suit got, so I gave him looser fit pants, a hood and combat boots. His suit was lowkey inspired by Red Hood’s design because, dammit, DC may be super dark, but they know how to design characters well (something MLB could stand to learn from ಠ_ಠ) anyways, along with the hood and paneled top+cargo pants+combat boots, I gave him cat-shaped knee pads, similar to Ivan’s turtle shell knee pads. You will also notice a trend with a lot of my hero suit designs, which is fingerless gloves. Yes, this’ll take away from the cat claw thing Chat had going on, but I’m ok with that. To go with his punk/rock band aesthetic, he got combat boots with the signature cat paw steel toes. His tail is pretty much the same along with the ears. His mask is also different, covering the bottom half of his face. This also takes away from the cat sclera thing the original Chat had, but Luka isn’t a furry so… also, the mask covering his mouth alludes to his calm nature and quiet personality, not feeling the need to play around, especially during a battle,which was where the original Chat erred most often. Luka also has very expressive eyes, so I wanted to push that, like, even if he doesn’t talk much, he’s still a good communicator. Plus, when cats are hunting, they’re quiet! Which the original Chat cannot relate to!

Ladybug: ok, so her suit is still pretty basic, since I wanted to stick with he AU’s canon description of her suit. The main bodice/legs are similar to the season 4 suit after she calls on the lucky charm, but the sleeves are slightly different. I also got rid of the “reverse” polka dots cuz they just look ugly imo. Her gloves are also fingerless, since I feel like that would 1. Lend better to doing yo-yo tricks and 2. They just look better (u_u) anyways, her hair is still the same, as well as her mask. It’s pretty basic but eh…

Neurofoxin: her design is also super simple, but I also wanted to veer away from the gaudy orange normally associated with the fox miraculous. If she can make her tiger suit purple and red, I can make her fox costume reddish purple!! She’s goth, she’s not gonna walk around in *o r a n g e*. And I stand by that. Anyways, like I said her suit is relatively simple, the panels of the suit modeled after Volpina’s actually, because despite how I hate Lila and her stupid sausage link hair, her volpina suit was pretty cute. Instead of giving her a jacket w/coattails or a belt/sash to be her tail, I decided to make it her hair, cuz even in civilian form it’s pretty long. I also decided that instead of a dark grey/black to purple, I’d make the tips the same cream as her “underbelly” panel, as I wanted to incorporate the cream in more than just that singular spot. I also pulled her bang back because even if she’s goth, she still needs to be able to see properly as a superhero. Plus, I like Juleka’s eyes, and I feel like Trixx would like her to show off more. Anyways, besides the morph suit and her hair being a bit longer than normal+a different color, she has a cropped leather jacket,same color as her suit. There’s also paneling on the side/back of her thighs/back that’s a darker red/purple color. Again, to go with her rockstar/alt aesthetic, I gave her combat boots as well, though hers are knee high, plus I forgot to draw the laces, but eh. Fun fact: I headcanon the Couffaine twins as being super tall for their age, but Juleka is taller than her twin for now+her boots are heeled.

Fukiya: for Kagami’s suit, I pulled inspo from someone else’s LBO AU fanart, although I can’t remember who’s it was. Originally, I was gonna go for a suit similar to Kagami’s fencing gear, but decided to go w the suit she has now so it’d be more reminiscent of a bee. I gave her a sleeveless, cropped kimono, the bottom of which has a honeycomb pattern and an ombré going from dark yellow to black. Her obi has two layers, the bottom layer being a bright yellow and the outside layer being black. Her sleeves are similar to Queen Bee’s, but with an added black line. Her legs are completely black with the exception of her knee pads, which are a bright yellow and octogon shaped. I wanted her to look more bee-esque than Queen Bee or Vesperia (her character design is 🤢) so I gave her the yellow torso with black limbs, than made the kimono collar thick to look like a neck ruff or smth. I honestly struggled with her design a bit but it looks ok in the end so I’m happy with it :) also, Kagami is the shortest because I said so!

Heavy Matal: oh, Ivan, you absolute teddy bear of a guy. I adore the Iván of this AU, he’s so sweet, a gentle giant, so I wanted to focus on making him look slightly softer than the rest of the heroes, despite being the turtle holder. I gave him his signature cargoes, although they’re pants instead of shorts when he’s transformed, a sleeveless hoodie, and “turtle”-neck compression-esque undershirt, the sleeves long enough to be, you guessed it, fingerless gloves! The only reason Kagami is the only one with full gloves is because I wanted to giver a more serious/conservative look. Mari’s been ladybug so long she deserves to have cute, fingerless gloves! Anyways, back to Ivan! His hoodie is two toned, like a turtle’s shell, with the front being a light green. It’s patterned to look like a turtle shell underbelly, with a nice big pocket to hold whatever. He wears elbow- and knee-pads, which are shaped like little turtle shells. He wears regular Vans-style tennies, and his mask is similar to Carapace’s, except it cover the majority of the front of his face (think Kid Flash), and is colored/patterned similarly to a box turtle, with red accents along his cheekbones and his little tuft of hair is his usual blond with an ombré to that same red. (Ignore the ear I forgot to color in plz, I don’t feel like editing anymore T-T)

Ok, so that’s it for today’s character designs! I’m working on redesigning pretty much everyone’s civilian and hero costumes. I haven’t mentioned on this blog, but on pretty much every Gabe!Salt fic I’ve read, I will tell you, whoever the hell designed most of the characters in MLB, you deserve to be fired and then arrested. I’m so sorry, but there’s no way ur gonna convince me Fashion Designer™️ Marinette Dupain-Cheng walks out of her house every day, wearing ugly ass ballet flats+”denim” jeggings in that shade of pink. No way. And don’t even get me started on Gabriel’s candy-cane, red pants and duck hair headass, because omg… that man is supposed to be a world renowned Fashion Designer™️, one of the best in Paris. IN. PARIS!! No fucking way. No way. I get, you want ur characters to be simple and easily recognizable, but that doesn’t mean they have to be ugly!! And I get it, Adrien’s supposed to have a model-off-duty look, but wth are those shoes? Plus, why does he never change for his photo shoots? He’s a MODEL! I get it, you can’t even spend money to change the transformation animation to whatever the characters are actually wearing but wtf??? If you were gonna have any kid’s show where we get to see a lot of different clothes/outfits, this would be the show!! Two of the main characters are fashion designers, one of the minor antagonists is the daughter of a fashion magazine owner and your other main character is a model. IN PARIS!! A city known for its fashion and “romance”. And ur telling me you can’t add a few more outfits to the show??? That’s called lazy writing/animation.

Ugh, sorry abt that rant, but the character designs genuinely piss me off. It’s bullshit.

I digress.

I’ll be releasing the main 4 kids’ redesigns probably on the 15th!!

[adobe-outdesign]

I know you've reviewed the Goodra line, but have you talked about Hisuian Sliggoo and Goodra?

While I don't like it more than the original, I do think Hisuian Sliggoo is pretty solid for a regional. The original line were mostly slugs with a few snail-like touches, so taking them and adding a shell to make them true snails makes logical sense thematically. Making the shell a result of increased iron in the line's diet and then making them part steel-type also works nicely.

In Sliggoo's case, while the body itself barely changes, the way it hides within its shell gives it a very different silhouette from the original and helps to instantly make the two unique. I wouldn't have minded more changes, but what we got is distinct enough, and cute to boot.

However, Hisuian Goodra is kind of a major step down from Sliggoo. What makes Hisuian Sliggoo work isn't just that it has a shell, it's that it has a shell that it stays in 24/7. Completely removing that element from H. Goodra makes it way too similar to the original. Sure, the shell itself is different, but it mostly feels like the same creature with one single design change. It actually has multiple changes—one less spot on its head and tail, the spots being desaturated, longer antennae, a different expression that doesn't really add anything—but everything else is so minor it's almost unnoticeable.

Off the top of my head, here were some things they could've changed about the body if they really didn't want to have it in its shell 24/7 (ideally, these would be applied to H. Sliggoo as well for consistency):

Change the colors (there are tons of snails out there to pick from)

Inverse the body so the darker color is on top and vice versa

Make the antennae curled up to mimic the shape of the shell

Change the position of the slime drips

Change the position of the spots, such as putting them on the shell or along the sides of the body

Change the face to look more like Sliggoo's

Change the feet to be more gastropod-ish

Etc. The shell itself is fine—but it's not enough to do all the heavy lifting on its own.

For the record, while I prefer regular Sliggoo slightly I do prefer Hisuian Goodra a bit over the original, just because I like the weight of that giant shell and the way it merges directly with the tail, as well as the more hunched-over posture. I do like the more saturated colors and happier expression of the original though, so it is what it is.

Overall, Hisuian Sligoo is a pretty good regional that puts a nice twist on the original design. Hisuian Goodra is fine, but it doesn't change enough to really feel like its own unique thing.

[misspickman]

“Will you stay with me? Tonight? I just— I’d feel better knowing you’re near.” make those bitches vulnerable

If anyone could explain the counterintuitive nature of the mind, Kon would listen, carefully, then disregard every bit of it. It would eat at him but ultimately he would not learn from it, as is the story of his life. It frustrated him to no end, and it made changing the habits he'd grown into no easier.

He'd just about made out a Tim-shaped figure at the door as the sudden light filled out the room. As the light hit, so did Kon's headache. He groaned and covered his face with one of Tim's many pillows scattered about the bed.

Tim startled, slow and unusually jumpy in his movements. Would you look at that? Kon was starting to sound like the resident Bat himself. Maybe there was some merit to watching Tim work, aside from getting to stare at his scrunched up face.

A second later he heard the soft click of the light switch again. He heaved a sigh, but stayed underneath the pillow, part for the dramatic effect, part because it actually made him feel better in some messed up placebo way.

He could hear Tim shuffling around the room, taking his suit off, his boots, all the while trying his best to keep it as quiet as possible. It didn't work but Kon could appreciate the thought. As the sounds of hard kevlar and leather hit the floor in a heap, the musky smell of sweat filled the room.

“Why are you in my room?” Tim asked, voice muffled and too loud.

“Bart is running laps upstairs and playing on his DS. Loudly.” Each one of his steps was like thrown pebbles making ripples in the water, if pebbles were sharp and hateful and ripples made your head scream in agony.

“That doesn't explain why you're in my room.”

Why was he? Kon's room was lead isolated for this exact purpose, keeping him cocooned from the onslaught of noises that scraped his brain raw at times like this. Kon's room also held the generally helpful set of noise cancelling headphones Tim had gotten for him. None of that mattered when Kon didn't want to be in his room.

He shrugged, and said matter-of-factly, “I didn't want to start the next Halloween movie without you.”

Tim groaned; a loud, guttural sound that Kon followed with a stifled whine. Even though it must have been obvious at this point, he didn't want Tim too aware of his problem. Kon liked to pretend he wasn't as transparent as he knew he was. He didn't enjoy it, but it was a matter of necessity for his survival.

The springs of his bed creaked as Tim sat down, the warm skin of his thigh brushing against Kon's feet. Internally Kon cursed himself for his depravity that made him overly aware of the fact that his friend was half naked right now, next to him, as if they hadn't seen each other in similar states of undress before. Even then Tim had been particularly touchy about this sort of thing; nakedness, intimacy, and who was Kon to preach to him? He had even less of a normal relationship with both. That only made him appreciate the moments when Tim was too exhausted to care about propriety.

Too bad he had a pillow over his face. Peeking over it would only make him more obvious and desperate. The older they got, the less excuses they had for being sort-of-undressed in front of each other. They were no longer clingy kids who hung off of each other half the time they spent together—mostly they weren't, at least. Kon didn't feel much different from the gangly sixteen year old he used to be. Except now, he knew why his eyes would linger on Tim when he'd pull his shirt over his head and his back muscles moved and made Kon's brain go huh.

Not that he was looking for excuses to see his buddy naked. He only appreciated them when they showed up, then felt strongly shamed by them.

“I'm not staying the night,” Tim said, and sunk Kon's heart. He made a pitiful little noise. “Don't whine. I have stuff to take care of.”

“Yeah,” Kon grumbled, “me.”

He could imagine the pointed arch of Tim's eyebrow. Hell, he could hear it in his voice. “I thought you were fine.”

And he was. Mainly. The magic bullet only grazed him, and the whole situation was honestly more ridiculous than anything else, barely endangering. Who the fuck makes a magic gun? People need to get their gimmicks together.

Just a graze still landed him at medbay, and he bitched at Tim the entire time there. Tim gave back as good as he got, proud and unbothered, while Kon was very much bothered.

“I am,” he admitted. But two could play this game. Kon had watched Tim fight and flinch each time he stepped wrong or swung his staff too hard. He wasn't an idiot. “How are you doing?”

For a moment Tim fell silent, thrown off. “I'm… okay? What?”

“I saw you limping,” Kon said, feeling just a bit guilty for acting smug about noticing something like this. It was not the sort of remark Tim could take lightly. “Did you sprain something?”

He knew Tim didn't. He was offering him an out, sort of, because he knew an active injury would be easier to admit to than a constant not-so passive pain. Tim liked to think he was pretty sleek, too.

“No,” he denied, as Kon assumed he would. “You're deflecting.”

“I don't want you to leave.”

Tim was easy to disarm with staunch vulnerability, not because he didn't believe it was there, but because he didn't know how to throw it back in your face. He could bicker with the best of them but if Kon offered some honesty and outright asked what he wanted, Tim found it impossible to say no.

“Me being here won't help with your headache,” Tim said. “Actually, it will only make it worse.”

That was true. Well, mostly. The constant movements and sounds every functioning body made would only add to the sum of it all, but it would help because Kon wanted him here.

Gently, Tim added, “You also probably shouldn't be staring at screens if your head hurts.”

How damn hypocritical was it of Tim to be dolling out preachy advice about being careful with your pains when he himself was planning to go jumping rooftops? “Don't tell me what to do.”

The headaches had been Kon's company for as long as he could remember using his powers, not Tim's. That, and the occasional thought of knocking his skull open that he entertained from time to time, were sources of momentary comfort. Didn't do much else, but he felt lighter with the ability to turn the pain in on himself twice folded.

“Would it kill you to accept help?” Tim asked.

“I am accepting your help. In the form of you sitting your ass down and watching the rest of this movie with me.”

Tim's eyebrow twitched. “I thought you didn't want to start it without me.”

He didn't, but it had taken Tim so long to get here and Kon desperately needed some horror movie shaped comfort if he was already lacking the friend shaped kind.

He rolled over on his back and lifted his arms in Tim's direction, in some form of a mocking plea. “I'm only five minutes in. Our friend Michael hasn't even showed up. Come on, man.”

“I don't even like those movies.”

Kon lifted the pillow off his face and looked at Tim, at his pale, fallen face and his unfocused eyes. His hair was half tied up and half falling around his face in oily strands. Kon thought he really, really needed a shower and a nap. He said none of that, only looked at him and hoped that he made a sad, pathetic sight.

“You don't have to watch. Will you just stay with me?” he asked, pleading; more sincere than he'd like to admit. “I’d feel better knowing you’re near.”

A flash of shock ran across Tim's face before he steeled it back to some semblance of a careful neutrality. It might have worked on someone less Tim-experienced, but it did not work on Kon.

“Don't be dramatic,” Tim muttered.

“I'm not,” Kon insisted. He stretched out one of his legs and folded a grimace. “A bullet grazed my poor ankle, you know. Ouch. It hurts so bad and I'd feel so much better if my mean friend stayed here and watched a movie with me.”

He could see Tim's apprehension at being called mean, even if he had to know Kon was just pulling his leg. Guilt tripping him. Same thing.

Tried and true process; it worked like magic.

“I know you're fine,” Tim said as he settled more comfortably on his portion of the bed. Kon saw how slow he moved, for Tim. Careful movements, aware of the spots where it hurt and how not to aggravate them. “Your poor patient play is not fooling me.”

Kon gasped. “How cruel. How mean! You'd be so harsh with your friend when he's suffering an ailment so severe?”

“Stop it,” Tim said, grumbly, but with a smile.

The wound stung a bit still. If Kon were smart, or any less stubborn, he would have sat in the Sun for an hour or two to get himself in top shape again. It sounded almost too easy when he thought of it that way. The Sun though, in a funny turn of events, hurt his eyes whenever he got like this, and didn't need more direct stimulants to make his life hell.

A bit of a sting on the surface was such a ridiculous little thing that it felt unnecessary to mention, especially when he knew well enough that if Tim got a whiff of it he'd get all up in his head about lingering magic effects and so on and so on, and it would take the rest of the night to shut him up. Kon didn't want that for either of them. He didn't want to end up back in medbay and he didn't want Tim stressed over nothing.

He balanced Tim's laptop on the edge of the bed. It made his headache spike, and got him squinting, but the movie wasn't going to play itself. He never noticed how much he used TTK in his daily life until it hurt him to do so.

Tim swatted at his hip. “Give me that.”

He took the laptop and set it up on a chair, while Kon made himself comfortable further up on the bed, to make more space for Tim. Not that he didn't like Tim so pressed up against him while in nothing but boxers but—but. Propriety. Very important.

Finally, with both of them settled on the bed, Kon hit play. On the screen, a gaggle of kids gathered around a TV screen as a jolly ad for a collection of Halloween masks started playing. Next to Kon, Tim laughed.

“What?” Kon asked, with a distinct feeling that he was the one being laughed at. It got him wary on instinct, but then it was Tim laughing—hard to be worried about that.

Tim brought up a hand to his face to cover his grin. His eyes didn't move from the screen, which bathed him in gentle blue light as the characters moved.

“I thought we were skipping the third part?” he asked.

“We're watching all of them.” Kon noted the way he avoided an answer. “Means no skipping. What kind of a dirty cheat do you take me for?”

Tim sighed. “Well, this one is—”

The possibility of Tim outright spoiling a movie for him almost made the headache go away entirely for a full three seconds. “Nuh-uh! Shut up! I'm watching!”

He stuck his uninjured leg in Tim's side in protest. It jostled him and Kon saw a brief grimace fly over his face and just as he was about to apologize, Tim's hand wrapped around his calf and squeezed.

He could never hurt Kon with his bare strength but he could inflict pressure. It was very effective. It got him quiet, it got him paying attention to the movie so his mind wouldn't start running wild.

“It's kind of catchy,” Kon muttered, feeling altogether dumb, subdued and flustered. “The jingle.”

Tim hummed, ominously, and Kon cursed him for having seen the movie before and being all sly about it. It made him all smug and insufferable and Kon… rather liked how that looked on him.

It occupied most of his brain space as he tried to follow the plot of the movie, because Tim kept his hand firm on his leg throughout. If pressed, he would insist that it was the overstimulation that made him so overly aware of the touch, but Kon knew it wouldn't be true. He knew Tim had nice hands; bony and rough with scars and cracks. Knowing it made him restless, almost guilty, like it wasn't for him to know.

He shifted to the side and Tim pulled his hand back. It wasn't awkward and stilted at all. Nope. There would be no reason for it to be weird, because Tim knew and doubted nothing.

When it was apparent that the mandatory sex scene was about to happen, Kon became very glad for the lack of physical contact between them. Even the proximity felt too palpable, too charged between them; to Kon, that is. He had no doubt Tim was having a good ol’ regular time watching a movie, oblivious to the tension radiating from his right.

Still, Kon snuck a glance at Tim, just in time to catch a pent up grimace on his face. He laughed.

With no real push behind it, Tim swatted at him. “Shush.”

“How old are you again?” Kon asked.

“I just think it's unnecessary for the movie,” Tim said, looking as uncomfortable with words leaving his mouth as he could. “No one does that—no, shut up, don't say anything. I know they do. That's not the point.”

While Tim got lost in his own points, Kon debated the level of potential weirdness and merit of a joke, and decided that it was not actually weird or creepy if what he'd be doing was clearly just trying to get on Tim's nerves.

He opened his mouth and saw Tim's face fall. “Rob, if you were a divorced doctor, and I a young lady on a mission—”

“Do not finish that sentence.”

See? Jokes. Never awkward. It certainly closed the topic of sex, which Kon was thankful for.

Not long after, Kon was watching an insect emerge from what remained of that woman's face, suddenly wide eyed and awake and paying attention. The camera stayed on the shot for long enough that he figured they'd spent a good deal of money on making it look as grisly as possible.

“I miss him,” he said, somewhat regretfully. Next to him, dozing off, Tim hummed in question. “Michael.”

Tim huffed and stretched, and that was enough to steer Kon's attention away from the scary movie once more. He resisted the urge to pinch Tim's exposed side, thinking it would be too weird, considering the everything of tonight.

Tim pulled his leg up and rested his chin on his knee with a sigh. “You're not the only person who felt this way.”

So Tim went on to tell him about the reception of the movie, about producer's intentions for the franchise, and Kon mostly tuned it out in favor of watching him talk and pay rapt attention to the movie at the same time. He would stop occasionally to point out a detail Kon wasn't following, and was instead starting to question Tim's initial distaste towards the movie.

“Are you watching?” Tim asked at one point. “I thought I had to stay here with you so you could watch.”

That had been the main excuse, yes, and Kon felt hot with shame at being caught looking. He turned back to the movie, the dull ache against his skull prompting him to shut his eyes for just a moment.

“Should I turn it off?” Tim asked, no accusation in it. Again, Kon found himself resisting the obvious smart choice. Go to sleep. Wake up maybe-mostly headacheless. Continue his life. He could be smart, or he could put his legs up in Tim's lap and continue half watching the movie that was steadily creeping him out.

Tim snorted at his silent protest but didn't complain. He took two pillows from Kon and piled them up behind himself to lean against, not quite stifling the soft whine as he rolled his shoulders.

The plot was starting to unravel with sudden speed, so Kon didn't get an excuse of a slow scene to question Tim about it. It wouldn't be appreciated either way, so he comforted himself with the knowledge that it had to be better this way. Kon couldn't exactly call Tim out on this without being called a hypocrite, but he could force Tim into taking a break. This way they were both ignoring their problems very professionally while not overworking themselves. A win-win situation, as far as Kon was concerned.

~~~

A crackle of a doorknob stirred Kon awake. Mostly awake, at least; his vision still swam as he blinked his eyes open, then decided it wasn't worth it.

A whisper came from a bit further away, then neared him. Tim spoke to him in a hushed tone. “Sorry. I was just leaving, I didn't mean to wake you.”

“Leaving?”

He could feel Tim hovering, but Kon was too sluggish in both his movements and thoughts to focus on any of it. A bit louder, with an underlying roughness to his voice that Kon associated with exhausting fights and mornings after, Tim said, “Movie's over.”

Right, the movie. Kon must have passed out right after it ended. He dimly remembered seeing the credits roll, in that dreamy, unfocused state of drifting away.

“You can stay,” Kon slurred. “It's your room.”

A clammy hand rested against his cheek, then the side of his forehead. Checking for fever, Kon thought. It was one of those habits people had and found hard to break, even though he himself couldn't get a traditional human fever.

“I don't have magic fever,” he said, because he knew that to be the sort of worry Tim would have. “My leg is fine, my blood is fine, where are you going?”

Kon rolled to his side, looking up at Tim all bleary eyed. He painted a special picture in the dark, as did most people, because they didn't count on anyone seeing them. Kon did; Kon could see Tim move his hand from his face and yawn silently, he could see how sleepy he was, face slack and expressionless.

“I was going to crash into your room,” Tim admitted.

Even half asleep, Kon knew that inviting Tim to stay in bed with him would be crossing some unspoken but well known boundary of a normal friendship. But the dark worked on him too, and the implicit safety of it made him stupid.

“Idiot.” He yawned. “Perfectly fine bed here.”

Tim politely ignored that suggestion. “How's your head? Feeling better?”  

He was sweet. Annoying in his worry, sometimes, but sweet. It was hard for Kon not to think so now, with one foot still in dreamland.

“Better if you stayed.”

Tim sighed softly. “I'm not crowding on this bed with you. You hog all the blankets.”

“And you snore,” Kon threw back, petulant, and was just a second too late to realize his mistake in it.

He could see a slow smile stretch across Tim's face. “All the more reason for me to leave.”

He got up from where he'd been crouching next to the bed with a quick good night said over the shoulder, and Kon watched him go, disappointed but not present enough to be an active participant in it. He was out cold again before Tim even shut the door behind himself, and in the morning the memory would seem more like a stray dream. Or so he would tell himself to avoid facing his own embarrassments.

[prettyprettypaci2]

Squire - Part 6

👑 Part 1 👑 Part 2 👑 Part 3 👑 Part 4 👑 Part 5 👑

"Now that is a fine trophy! Perhaps the finest I've seen. My whole pocket of silver says this squire will be bagged first; every lord in the Hunt will have his heart set on it."

Your long eyelashes flutter as you look away from the grinning man in the scarlet jerkin, squirming bashfully in your hot leather costume. Not another wager on you! For what seems like the hundredth time this morning, you hear coins changing hands, a few lecherous remarks, and a scratching of ink on parchment as the betting master records the receipt. You shudder to realize that there must be a king's ransom riding on your pretty head.

When Blackwood had first informed you that you would be entertaining at the Hunt, you assumed it would be very much like a day at court: dancing, singing, and playing a flirty diapered fool to delight Her Majesty's guests. Your suspicions to the contrary began only this morning: you had been awoken hours before dawn by Madame Matilda. Her handmaidens scrubbed you clean and raw before changing you into the thickest, most comically padded diaper you had ever seen. The form-fitting pink romper they dressed you in seemed strange and unwieldy (although the matching knee-high boots with 6-inch stilettos reminded you that little about the life of a squire is meant to be practical).

It was only after Blackwood had arrived and presented you with the hood that you came to realize the terrible twist of Her Majesty's Hunt: squires are not meant to be the garnish, but the game! Molded into the shape of a stag's head and antlers, the constricting hood obscures all but your heavily-painted eyes, which peer nervously at the row of other squires being presented outside the betting master's tent. Dressed in similar leather costumes with perverse diaper bulges, none of the docile and sad-looking figures are familiar to you. Ever since Mouse had been taken away three seasons ago, Pig has remained the only other squire with whom you share any rapport.

The man in the scarlet jerkin manages to catch your attention again as he departs for the field, and his suggestive wink makes you shiver despite the uncomfortable warmth of your hood. A different and more familiar heat alerts you that you're dribbling into your diaper again. As the months have passed, you've noticed that your bladder now empties itself uncontrollably whenever something makes you anxious. Your first true accidents had overwhelmed you with fear and anguish; your diapers were no longer just a humiliating accessory, but an undeniable necessity! But with time, you've come to find something oddly pleasant -- even calming -- about the padding growing warm and thick between your legs.

You bite down on a bit built into the frame of your pink leather hood, which opens the nostrils by way of some ingenious contraption. With a path to your mouth now cleared, you drop down to your knees and plunge your head into a long trough of stagnant water set before you and your fellow captives. You drink deeply until you must surface for air, then dive in once again. You often find yourself drinking well beyond your thirst when presented with a bottle or bowl. You tell yourself it is because you do not know when your next opportunity for water will come. You would never admit -- or even allow yourself to think -- that it was to ensure the soothing feeling of a wet accident in your diaper would never be far away.

"You! Pretty one!"

You feel a rough hand on the back of your neck and let out a gurgling whinny as your head is yanked, coughing and sputtering, from the deep trough. You release the bit in your mouth and assume the position of submission expected of you whenever you're being manhandled, holding your wrists limply and craning upwards to expose your neck. The betting master, a portly yeoman with a cheap doublet and oily red goatee, is gripping your scruff tightly while waving a messy ledger in his other hand.

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm talking about! Pretty as a painting." The betting master pulls up sharply, and you wobble onto your towering heels before dipping demurely into an awkward curtsy.

"All these noble louts are betting a fortune that you'll be the first squire bagged," the betting master barks, flapping his ledger in your hooded face as though you had demanded some proof. "You know what that means, right? Some grubby lord runs you down in the woods, drags you back to the palace in a sack, tosses you in his bed -- then he gets to have his paws all over you for a couple of days, 'til the stench of your diaper becomes too much for him to handle. I'll bet that doesn't sound like a holiday to you, eh?"

Your eyes widen and you feel your face grow hot. You didn't realize what fate awaited you at the end of the Hunt! You had suffered many evenings at court being kissed and groped, and having your mushy diapered bottom bounced on lordly laps. But never had you been carried off to someone's bedchamber, to be used and abused out of anyone else's sight. You shudder to think what could happen, and the sound of more nervous piss streaming into your diaper echoes through the air.

The betting master grins lewdly. "I thought as much! Now, suppose I passed along some hints about Her Majesty's hunting grounds? Little nooks and crannies where you could hide out, and maybe avoid getting bagged altogether? I retire on a fat pile of silver, and you keep those doe-eyes from witnessing the true depths of a lord's appetite for pretty squires. What say you?"

In your life as a squire, you're accustomed to hearing commands, not questions. Your brain struggles to react, forgetting how to parse a proper answer. Knowing you want the betting master's information, you waggle your hooded head, feeling off-balance from the weight of the pink antlers, and produce some sort of affirmative snorting noise. He flashes a toothy grin.

"I'll take that for a hearty 'yes, mister!'" The betting master strokes his red beard and lowers his voice, out of earshot from the other diapered squires lined up outside his tent. "Now listen to me carefully. When they run you into the woods, don't follow the bridge across the brook. Just a few paces south, you'll see an older path, which loops around....."

👑 👑 👑

Your lungs are burning as you struggle to feed them enough life-giving air to keep going. Your jaw aches from biting down on the bit inside your antlered hood, trying to force the contraption's nostrils open as widely as possible. Your ears are thundering with the sound of your heavy footfalls on the cold autumn ground, crunching leaves beneath the platforms of your pink high-heeled boots. Your body can't betray you now. You're so close to the hiding spot...

Your fat diaper crinkles and pops beneath you as you leap across a shallow trench, wobbling a bit on the landing with the 6-inch stilettos. You remember all the mornings you had sobbed pathetically at Madame Matilda's feet, falling over yourself as she trained you to dance and prance like a giggling fool up and down the squiring hall. In this moment, your heart swells with gratitude for the intensity of her frollicking lessons: you think you may be trotting faster in your towering heels than you ever could in flat shoes.

At last! A rotten old tree with black bark and a wide trunk droops at the edge of a grassy clearing, about a furlong's distance away. A spark of fear rattles up your spine as the sound of a hunter's horn pierces the morning air. No! Have you been spotted?! Have all your efforts been for naught?!

Digging deep for every ounce of strength you can still muster, you feel hot piss flood your diapered loins as you sprint towards your goal. The feeling of your diaper filling beyond your control, the terror of being run down and bagged like a wild animal, the energy pulsing through your body as you push yourself to exhaustion -- it all stirs up inside of you, and for the ghost of a moment, you imagine Pig standing over you with a sack in hand, licking their dark red lips as they descend on you with lustful eyes...

The sound of galloping hooves banishes the strange image from your mind, and you redouble your efforts to reach the tree. Your heart is in your throat as you round the rotting trunk and behold the hiding spot you had been promised by the betting master: a hollow at the base obscured by woodland grasses where you can see into the clearing without being seen yourself.

You dive head-first into the hollow, deftly maneuvering your antlers through the narrow opening. But your feelings of triumph wash away like flotsam at sea when your momentum is abruptly halted at the waist. Blood rushes to your head and your arms dangle uselessly as you are stuck upside-down -- the padding of your diaper is too thick and swollen with piss to squeeze through! As the crash of horses' hooves and the call of the hunter's horn draw ever nearer, you are left wriggling and flailing with your legs in the air, your sodden diaper flashing as a white banner of surrender to whatever lord should wish to claim you as his prize.

Desperately, you begin to hump the thick root of the tree with your squishy padding, hoping you can somehow force your diaper through the constraining hole. Once again, in your mind's eye you see Pig rolling their diapered hips against yours, their wet tongue painting circles in the air as they grind your padding like a millstone. You hurl your loins harder against the tree, pumping your boots in the air to add weight behind each frenzied thrust.

Then, when the hunter's horn sounds as though it's blaring from your own ears, you feel the ground shift, and the rotting trunk of the black tree collapses around you. You fall head-first into the dark hollow, rolling into a pile of soft, damp wood. Covering the nostrils of your hood with both hands, you take your mouth off the bit and wait, shivering in silence, willing yourself not to breathe.

You hear the clank of metal spurs above your head, and the canter of a slowing steed. He must have seen you before the tree collapsed, or heard the commotion from your fall! Tears begin to spill freely from your eyes, mixing with the dripping sweat of your brow to form a salty elixir that stings your trembling lips.

"Nnnnnnnnnhh! Nnnnnnnnhhhhh!"

A muffled cry draws the whinnying horse away from you. You dare to stand at full height and peer through the widened hollow to see what has transpired! In the clearing, you see another squire in their stag costume, limping across the grass in confused panic. A muscular lord on horseback rides into view, extending a long pole with a billhook to clip one of the squire's antlers. They tumble to the ground and begin crawling in the opposite direction, clearly too lame to stand.

With a cruel non-chalance, the rider dismounts and unfurls a cloth sack the size of a wine barrel. Outpacing the miserable squire easily, the muscular nobleman crosses in front of them and thrusts his knee down onto the poor thing's neck.

"NNNNNNHHH! NNNNNNNNNNNNHHHHHH!"

The squire's cries grow frantic as the nobleman effortlessly draws the sack over his trophy's kicking legs, forcing their knees into a bend before stuffing the squire's arms in and drawing the bag closed. The terrified young prize continues to writhe within their new prison, but is unable to resist their captor as he drags the squire over to his horse by the antlers and tosses them over the back of the saddle. The bagged squire's screams turn into wailing sobs as they come to realize their fate is sealed. Mounting his steed and brandishing his billhook, the nobleman gives the clearing one last searching glance before trotting off into the woods.

You collapse onto the damp ground and place your hand over your chest, at last allowing yourself to catch your breath. That poor squire! What could be running through their mind now, being captured in the Hunt and dragged helplessly to their fate? You can only imagine their fear, their anguish, their excitement. You're assaulted with new visions of Pig tossing your bagged body on the floor, writhing and mewling as they grab your antlered hood and ride you like a mule.

You don't realize you've been stroking the front of your sagging diaper until your eyes adjust to the darkness of the hollow. There is something strange about this place; it seems far larger than you would have expected for a hole beneath a rotting tree. You blink away your waking dream, but you swear there is some light-colored form watching you in the dark. Cautiously, you extend your hand and feel...something soft. Something moving.

You jump at the sound of a torch being struck, and wince as you adjust to its flickering light. The first thing you see is the ball of white fur in your hand, which unfurls to reveal the form of a large, white rabbit. As you flit your eyes around what now appears to be a spacious cavern, you realize it is not alone. Huddled in groups throughout the soft ground of this hidden chamber are untold scores of white rabbits, sleeping or grooming themselves lazily in the dark.

And at last, you clap your eyes on the source of the torchlight: radiant in her purple dress and still wearing her tall crown, the young woman you recognize as the Royal Interpreter strokes yet another rabbit in her lap as she lifts the flame to get a better look at your hooded face. Not for the last time, wet warmth spills uncontrollably into your ever-expanding diaper, causing a soft moan to escape from your lips.

"Well, what have we here?" the woman says in a low, sultry tone. Her unsmiling face isn't able to mask the hint of amusement in her voice. "It looks like we've bagged a squire after all, Your Majesties."

🎀🦌🎀

👑 Part 7 and Epilogue 👑

[daydreaming-en-pointe]

A very Spidey Christmas - Gwen

Pairing: Gwen Stacy x fem!Reader

Word count: 644

Warnings: Use of nicknames (sweets, my love), reader keeps falling but I think that’s it?

A/N: I have never ice-skated in my life, so if anything’s incorrect please don’t hesitate to correct me! <3

MY FAVOURITE GIRL I LOVE HER SO MUCH 💗

quite short bc all my inspiration went into the oneshot of my other gf 😞 (hobie)

“I don’t get how you do this so easily,” You huffed in frustration after falling yet again on the hard surface of the ice skating rink.

“It just takes practise, sweets. You’ll get it with time.” Gwen effortlessly glided along the ice in circles around you, her skates drawing deliberate, almost perfectly symmetrical shapes.

“I’ve fallen on my ass more times than I can count today. I wouldn’t be surprised if I’m the worst out of everyone at this.”

“Well… I never said it would be easy,” She chuckled softly, pausing and reaching down to grasp your hand and help you up. “And come on, you’re definitely not the worst - look at everyone else.”

You spared a glance around for the first time, since you didn’t have to concentrate on keeping your eyes up and focused on one point.

Miles was tumbling everywhere, falling flat on his face at least three times every five minutes. Pavitr was using his yo-yo webshooters to lasso various railings on the opposite end of the rink and pull himself carefully toward them. Hobie had somehow attached the blades - sole and all - of the skates to his giant boots and was happily clomping around in his own world, lifting his feet and not even bothering to attempt skating. Honestly, it was a miracle he hadn’t tripped up and fallen yet.

Margo had dropped out at the last minute and was sitting on one of the benches off to the side, sharing a packet of skittles with (the other) Miles and scrolling on her phone.

“Coward!” You called over to her, and she just chuckled. “Just so you know, I’m filming every time you fall! I’ve already got eleven shots for the compilation I’m gonna make!”

You rolled your eyes at her and pointedly tried to turn your back but just ended up rotating slowly on the ice. “You have a point,” You admitted to Gwen, and she tilted her head as if she was considering something.

“Let’s try something new, yeah? Here,” She moved behind you, gently resting her hands on either sides of your waist. “I taught you how to glide, didn’t I? Stroking is similar, just… you extend the movements more so it’s faster, but more difficult. Try gliding, and make it longer this time. I’m right here with you; you won’t fall. Don’t worry.”

You shifted your weight onto your right leg, tentatively placing your left blade on the ice a few inches ahead of the tip of your right skate, then slid your right leg to align with your left. You repeated the motion a few more times, getting used to gliding consistently before lengthening your strides and getting bolder with your speed.

Throughout everything Gwen was right there behind you, faithfully holding onto your waist to steady you, occasionally murmuring words of encouragement whenever you faltered and cheering you on as you sped ahead so she had to rush to keep up with you.

“I’m going to let go, sweets. I think you can do it. Do you still want me to hold you?”

“I think I can do it now…” At your words, she gave a hum of approval and let go of your waist. You flew forward, managing to catch yourself and turn away before you could hit the railing. Gwen smiled fondly, watching your movements carefully.

“See, my love? You’re doing it! Next I’ll teach you how to swizzle, it’ll be easy now that you’ve learnt how to-”

Thud.

She was immediately kneeling at your side, her eyebrows scrunched together in concern. “What happened? You okay?”

Your single look must have been enough to convey the pain you were feeling in your already-sore behind, because her eyes softened and she leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll get the ice packs from Margo… how about we take a break for a little bit?”

A swizzle (from what I understand) is the hourglass thing ice skaters keep doing which looks so cool!

@vhstown @l0starl @tatumis-a @deritosmi @therealloopylupin2099 @hobiebrownismygod

[spectralscathath]

May you explain the thought process behind all of Scorpion Faunus RWBY AU designs if you please?

Absolutely, buckle in. I'm a bit of a chatterbox, so I hope you don't mind long responses.

Let's start with Miss Scorpion Faunus herself. Now, Ruby has two versions of her design, one with her hood and one without, so I'm gonna pop them both beside each other just to contrast them.

Starting with Ruby's Vale/Beacon outfit, originally I hadn't changed it all that much from her original look, but then looking at it beside her other designs it looked a bit dull, so I revamped her to have a white top under the corset-vest and what my friend dubbed 'Miku Sleeves'. I'm honestly a lot happier with how it turned out.

Breaking it down, my main focus was to try and bring in some extra red into Ruby's look. I've always felt that without her cloak, her first look was really plain, with all the red on her dress being dark and her tights being black meaning she didn't have much of her colour. I made her tights redder and changed her corset design to be more similar to her later look, with a long stripe of central red, and some brighter accents all around.

Her white sleeves and the collar decoration are tied off with darker red, and I mostly kept them because they looked both cute and kinda fairytale-ish, but the main thing I wanted to do with this design was bring in the star theme that I want Ruby to have. The scorpio constellation decorated the sides of her corset, the two buttons on her white vest are star shapes, and her cloak has a small clasp that has another star on it. I axed the crosses she had in her show look, no hate to Qrow but I just never liked them on Ruby, and overall I think she looks cute.

I really like her Mistral look here. First major change is that her top is now a light grey instead of white. This will start a trend. Second major change is obvious, while in Vale Ruby is devoted to hiding her tail under her skirt, in Mistral she starts to wear it out a little more. Thirdly, I liked the idea from her show concept of battle damage, with the ragged cloak and the nicks on her red tights.

The main idea with Ruby's Mistral outfit here is that it carries elements of the people who were lost or impacted in the Fall of Beacon. The black neckpiece is taken from a cute piece of concept art and also references Penny, similar to the slits on her skirt. The trim at the top of her boots slightly references Nora's shoe style, and the puffier sleeves with a black cuff is a clear reference to Yang's own Beacon outfit. She also has changed her emblem to sit on her cloak, which is how Summer wears it in Antares as well.

Her hair's a bit messier, a little longer, and finally we can properly see that she has Tyrian's nose, which is one of my fav dumb details because it helps me slightly avoid same face syndrome (my enemy). There's a few extra belts, because belts on kickass goth boots Do Not Count as unnecessary, they're part of the style, and her gloves are way thicker and a bit more practical. I was able to bring in a darker red into this outfit, which ends up helping break up the black and red in a nice way without being too out of her colour scheme.

And yes: she has two star clasps on her neckpiece and the scorpio constellation on her skirt. Little star girl, falling fast.

The Atlas outfit is where we start getting the signs of story progression beyond just Ruby's outfit. Her tail is thicker due to a moult she undergoes in Mistral, her face is scarred from SpoilerSpoilerSpoiler, and her hair is beginning to turn silver-white due to overusing her silver eyes. It also has a little braid in it (can't be a scorpion faunus without braids), and has gotten to its most fluffi and messy it'll be here.

The big goals with this outfit were two-fold: make it look warm, and reference Tyrian (though in-universe it's subconscious on Ruby's part). The skirt has been officially switched out for a set of overalls, the belts on her waist are an exact replica of Tyrian's in Ruby's palette (she starts wrapping her tail around her waist as a fake belt, similar to him), and I snagged the undershirt and cuffs from her Mistral outfit and made it a darker grey again from her Mistral outfit. Her cloak has also become even more tattered, I wasn't a fan of her getting a new cloak in Atlas.

The other main things in this outfit that are different is the addition of the metal caps on her boots, which helps keep the silver travelling through Ruby's outfit as she becomes more in-tune with her SEW heritage. The scorpio constellation is again on her cuffs, she has some dark red gloves to stay warm, and while she has three stars on her overalls, between the belts, the star pattern is mainly on her shawl.

Speaking of the shawl, it's fur lined to bring in a little bit of white, and once again, a reference to Tyrian's overcoat. It is also where her emblem is now located, on the back, as at this point Ruby's having some struggles with the concept of 'identity', poor thing.

I'm a little biased but I still think her Vacuo look is my personal favourite out of these four. The hood is gone entirely, replaced by what I happen to think is an Adorable Poncho, and there is also the matter of the eyepatch. Due to SpoilerSpoilerSpoiler. But it has her emblem on it, very very faintly.

The rest of the Vacuo outfit is almost a reference to her Vale outfit more than anything else. We've nixed the darker red for a simpler colour palette, and her hair is messily cut short again, and a lot more silver. She still has a slight reference to Tyrian in the collar style of her undershirt, which is the darkest grey that she gets. She has cute lil lace edges on the sleeves tho.

The tights have also officially switched from red to grey, and while we haven't returned to the skirt, instead going for shorts-overalls, she does have a little overskirt patterned with scars that keeps her tail warm during the cold desert nights. The elbow cover adds a little funky assymmetry, very important in a rwby design, and the keen-eyed will notice the big departure in this from the other designs, the lack of bullets on her belt. It'll all make sense in context.

Finally, we've moved the scorpio constellation to her boots, nixed the goth belt on said boots, and kept the metal toecap from her Atlas outfit. Honestly there's not as much to say about this outfit, it's a bit simpler than the others, and there's less red in order to balance out Poncho Era, but I just think it's real cute, she's real precious.

Onto Weiss!!

Weiss was, no joke, a goddamn headache and a half. I find it really hard to understand her exact 'style' of fashion. But here she is and I'm happy with her anyway. The first main things that one might notice is that she has a much larger scar then the thin one from the show. That would be because A. Scars are Cool, and B. her scar is from blunt force trauma over her orbital socket, and the cut is from the skin splitting right over the bone. Which is supposedly what happened in the show but whatever. Bigger Cooler Scar.

The other main things are thricefold: she has the beauty mark from her original concept, she has freckles all over if you look close, a really pointy nose to look down on people with, and she has the Snow White 'lips red as blood'. If anyone would wear lipstick into battle its Weiss.

Her Vale outfit honestly isn't that different from her show look because it was overall solid if very bright. Mostly I just added extra details to make her look richer, such as all the little metal diamonds on her dress and sleeves, and decorating her boots and dress, and adjusted the colouring a bit so it wasn't all Bright White (see also: the black heels on her boots and the black sash, just to break up the colours). I did change up some of her accessories, like making her apple necklace have a red jewel, adding a cute choker, black diamond earrings, and red nail polish.

The other main thing was her hair. I decided to borrow the idea from the amazing AZRE au that Weiss started with her ponytail being straight instead of assymetrical, to show how she's still under Jacques's control, and I'll be entirely honest I kinda stole her headpiece from Amity's grown-up look in Owl House because it looked real cute and princessy. Her emblem is also located on the back of her bolero, and you don't see it in any of these designs, but its canon now that the underside of her boots, like the sole part, is red.

I based her Mistral Look mostly off her Snowpea look, except instead of making it a whole dress I decided to make it a jacket she wore over a dress. The dress is probably more like her Mistral outfit, you can see a bit of it peeking out, and I just adore the idea of Weiss wearing sweetheart bodices when she is flat as a board (I say this lovingly, and with respect). It's not visible here, but her dress is actually trimmed with sapphires that match her earrings, and the same with the gloves that you also can't see much of here but are very cute opera gloves. I try to keep Layers in mind when it comes to outfit design, usually.

The other big thing from Snowpea is that I gave her the thigh high boots, just to really look a bit different from the other outfits she has. She has a red scarf because I liked the idea in the show but not the execution, and I moved the idea of the white trim pattern of the scarf onto the black sash, just to help with breaking up the designs. Her jacket is designed to look vaguely business and vaguely military, since her Mistral arc has her very torn between her identities as Jacques's Heiress and being a Huntress like Winter.

I didn't mention it prior, but one thing I wanted to do for all the designs for the girls was to have some repeating elements throughout to tie all the designs together. Ruby has her stars, the belt, and the general boot design, Weiss has her jewellery, the triple diamond pattern seen on her skirt here, and transparent fabric, which is something that becomes more prominent across her designs as she grows into her own.

Also, we finally have the assymetrical ponytail, and the cute hairpiece from the show. She also has a slight change in her hairstyle from the show with the lil sidebangs, because if her hair was down I wanted it to reference the 'hime cut' a bit. And her emblems are on her shoulders here, just to add a lil extra spice to the jacket.

I truly do love Pixie Cut Weiss, I think it's still super feminine and cute and also she should have been the one to cut her hair, not Blake. I'll die on this hill. Anyway, Atlas look. I wanted to go full Magic Knight here, adding in pieces of armour (the shoulderpiece has her emblem), the transparent overskirt, the whole shebang.

Some of the major changes here is that Weiss's tights are darker, as in thicker material, and she has a similar thicker undershirt below her dress and jacket. Again, same with Ruby, I wanted to make a look that actually appeared warm, and I didn't want to go the route of the show where they made her look cluttered and also freezing and also just Not Good. I decided to keep the red gem accents, but instead of having them on a hairpiece they're meant to be on her bodice (again, thinking in layers), and her boots.

The other thing I really wanted with this was to have her both reference Winter, with the white jacket tucked into the black gloves, and be the most 'militaristic' of her outfits, what with the actual belt, and the epaulette. In Atlas, Weiss is almost a go-between with her team and the Atlas Military, after all her training with FANCI, the Ace Ops, and Winter, and has a lot of trust in them.

The scar on her neck is gonna make sense in the story. If anyone can figure out how it references Snow White, I'll give you an internet cookie.

We have reached Vacuo, and Weiss's Military Look is gone and her Rich Princess Look is toned down in favoour of what my friend dubbed 'punk ballerina'. Which is very fitting because this is the part of the story where Weiss takes the final step in a long journey towards anti-capitalism. In order to take out some of the princessy vibes, Weiss no longer has high boots, she instead has ankle boots that vaguely look like laceless converse, she has short fingerless gloves instead of something more operatic, and we've gotten rid of the jackets for a see-through top over a shoulderless look.

I think her dress here is pretty cute. I decided to do a sort of corset style that reminds me of the old-school disney princesses, and she still ahs a few metal diamonds scattered around, it's her thing. The observant may notice that all Weiss's buttons are diamond-shaped throughout her outfits, which was harder to detail then I first thought!

The skirt is meant to be more of a sundress style rather then something full of petticoats, and the red mesh under the dress was my way of trying to keep the pattern of 'red focused around Weiss's neck'. It also helps a bit with the more punkish look, which is aided by the pixie cut, which has grown out slightly. The white stockings are also just there as something of a sun/sand protection, and also because I wanted to really bring the colour back hard for Vacuo.

To Blake!

Observant people might notice that Blake has melanin here. I would be disqualified from Certain Redesign Contests for such a deviation from canon. What a shame.

But anyway, most of the Beacon looks really were solid outfits, as seen by how they're the ones that get press in everything rwby does outside of rwby 90% of the time. I honestly didn't have to change much. Mainly just doing a few small tweaks here and there. I changed her shorts to lose the excess zippers and added one of those like useless button straps that don't actually do anything but look cute, and here we see that I made all of Blake's buttons look like lil moons. Just for flair.

I gave her a purple belt and changed the tone of the purple in general, since I prefer Blake with bluer purples/indigos to Yang's more lilac purple when it shows up. She has the purple soles, but not heels, one thing I wanted to do with all these designs was make sure that the shoes could all look similar but different, give them all something specific to them.

The other big thing I did was I took her glove away and replaced it with two shorter gloves, one of which has her emblem rather than it being on her leggings, and the other of which has fishnets on it, because Blake Shops At Hot Topic and Listens to Evanescence you cannot tell me otherwise. The little white straps on her top were just, again, a bit of visual flair, and a way to keep some white travelling through her design without making her upper arms empty with nothing to look at.

Also you can't see it at this angle but she has a crescent moon nose piercing throughout all of her looks, even in Beacon, and she has black nail polish. I like to think she, Weiss, and Yang all did manicure sessions together in Beacon.

Her Mistral look is already a departure from canon, though I kept the thigh high boots and the idea for the cutouts on her top, even if I made her crop top white. You can't see it here that well because Blake is also wearing a sleeveless croptop jacket over a sleeveless croptop. It's fashion.

I gave her the glove from her show Beacon design here instead, for the assymmetry, and she has a bandanna tied around her right bicep with a moon pattern to kind of mirror the metal band on the glove. The big thing I wanted was to put her in a low ponytail, because that meant I could keep her bow motif while still showing off her ears. When she wants to cover them she has a beanie, because beanies are cute.

The zip for her zipper is, again, a crsecent moon, and she has a moon phases pattern along the tops of her boots. I gave her kneepads because Mistral Blake is ready to scrap and it matched with the metal band on the glove, and popped her emblem on her hoodie in a similar way to her vol2 outfit. Also similar to her vol2 outfit, I added those adidas tracksuit lines but in purple on her trousers. I liked this one a lot. It had the stuff I liked from the show Mistral one but without completely drowning her in not her colours.

This one gave me trouble, I went through so many sketches before I decided on this, but I think I'm happy with it overall. As a lil sneaky on this I made her jacket clasps the Bi Double Moon, which can also be seen on the metal tops of her boots. I had a sort of idea for stripes for her pattern here, just to look cohesive and also distinctive. She has the white to black gradient on her trousers, which are meant to be thicker and warmer. I wanted to always make sure she had white on her upper legs, just for the follow-through.

The bow for her ponytail is also white here in Atlas, and it's not on this look but she has a new beanie with white trim and one of those fluffy pom-pom thingies. The belt has her moon phases design that I introduced in the Mistral design, and her jacket was just me playing around until I had something I liked that kept her colour and had just the slightest hint of a suit jacket or waistcoat or something, in the shape and the white cuffs, mostly.

Her emblem is on a neckerchief that she can pull up over her nose to stay warm, and she's gotten two silver piercings in her right ear as a homage to her mom's gold piercings. Also, the notch in her left ear? She gets it from a fight, but she also comes out winning, and if anyone can guess why 'A V-shaped Notch' and where I got the reference from, another internet cookie and also my apologies, possibly.

I love Blake's Vacuo design, I shouldn't be biased but I am and I love it. I wanted her to have pirate boots, where I moved her bows to because she's dropped the ponytail, but my biggest wish for this look was 'that goth bitch at a rock concert who's about to scrap'. Everyone is punk in Vacuo, apparently.

She's wearing torn fishnets in the desert because she's hardcore like that, I gave her assymetrical gloves, one of which has like, a studded band purely for the 'about to dropkick someone in the moshpit' look, and a single-shoulder croptop that has her moon phases pattern. The more I look at her top the more I realise I may have been thinking of Amethyst from Steven Universe but Amethyst's designs all rocked so that's not a bad thing.

She still has the double bi moon on her pirate boots, right at the end of the bits that flop over (I don't know terminology), and finally she has her emblem on her legs, on her high-waisted shorts that are based off a pair I had as a teenager but in black.

And the jacket. Yes. Okay, I know: holographic fabric in the desert? Well the desert can be cold at night so she'll be warm then and also: she can blind her enemies with it. I just really like the shape and style of it, and I think it really distincts from her other looks. It was also really fun to draw, and I'm allowed to keep one darling alive as a present to myself.

Onto the fourth and final teammate, Yang!

Well first of all, her new Vale look is pretty much just 60% of vol2 outfit with a few minor tweaks. i turned the black miniskirt under the cream miniskirt into a pair of short-shorts because she deserves it, I took her emblem off the sparkly purple sash so she could keep it on her stockings.

The top is a mix of her original outfit in her new colour scheme of black, white, cream, and yellow, but I changed up her sleeves to be white for the poofy-fairytale-goldilocks appearance. I also turned all her buttons into rectangular clasps, and made the croptop under her jacket purple, to really bring the colour through the outfit. She and Blake are really close in Beacon, so having more purple in Yang's outfit, the bows on her boots, and the matching black scarfs was a fun way to show that for her.

One may also not that Yang's now got a bit of an updo going on. I wanted to incorporate just a few more Chinese influences into her design, though I will admit it is heavily stylised, and not very obvious in her Vale look. I also gave her a tan, just to really help bring out the colour palette a bit. And she has lilac nail polish because goddamnit she's allowed to be girly AND tough I hate the erasure of Yang's femininity just because this fndm can't wrap their lil heads around a wlw relationship that's not butch/femme when Yang isn't even butch in the show.

Anger aside. Part of what I wanted with this look was to make it seem, well, a little impractical. More fashion and form over function. Her boots have four belts each that need to be individually done up, her sash reaches her knees, that sort of thing. She can still fight in it, obviously, but she's in the fight for the thrill of things, because she's cool and knows it, and isn't really choosing to think deeper.

Her Mistral Look is meant to be very, very different from her Beacon look. She's axed the miniskirt and belt boots completely, she's wiped almost all traces of purple from her design, and she's got no bows. Yang in Mistral is almost running from everything in Vale, and especially anything that reminds her of Blake. She's trying to be a lot more practical here, her boots zip on, her qipao-influenced dress is short, cut high over the thighs, and out of the way of any kicks she might do, the sash wraps around the top of her boot and that's all, her hair's up in a ponytail.

The short jacket is pretty much the half of her vol2 look that didn't make it into her Vale look, and her yellow crop top under the qipao has her emblem, deliberately obscured and covered up a bit for symbolism. She has a black liner for her prosthetic here, and takes it on and off when she wants to. She didn't just put it on and never remove it, like in the show, here it's a bit more of an adjustment for her. Not as much to say about this outfit, it's simple but effective.

Yang's in a much better headspace from about Atlas onwards. She's more willing to combine fashion and function, she's finally started incorporating cute patterns into her style, and she has the cute hair bun covers that are purple and sparkly and adorable! She really starts coming into her own in Atlas, and I wanted to show that by having her settle into her motifs of fire and bears, as shown by the fire design on her jacket and the bear patterns. She has a trio of ursa skulls on a patch on her super fluffy jacket, and a set of bear pawprints on the edge of her qipao.

The boots have belts, though they're mostly decorative and the boots are actually zip on, and her emblem is still a bit hidden on her thigh. She's incorporating a lot more gold metal onto her shoes, following through from her Mistral look, and has a little golden band she can use to tie off the sleeve of her jacket when she's not wearing her prosthetic. Under the jacket, I like to think the sleeves are short before it cuts off just above the end of her right arm, and transitions into a full black glove on her left arm. She's switched the liner out for a bright yellow one, and she's just happier here. Someone has to be the sunshine in this team.

Similar to Blake, and Ruby, and possibly Weiss once I can look at her designs again, Yang's Vacuo outfit is my favourite of the four. She's got her hair up in cute buns for the bear ear ref, she's got cute ribbons that aren't bows because she and Blake have sorted stuff after Beacon but they're not codependent, and she's still got the purple sparkly fabric as her socks.

The main thing for Vacuo was to try and bring back some of the biker babe aesthetic, which I mostly did with the denim shorts that have that specific white fray thingy. She's got gold caps on the knuckles of her glove too, just for some extra fun. The emblem on her boots matches the metal inset of a fire pattern, and I brought back the bear idea with a paw on her sleeve. Maybe she has the ursa skulls patch on the other arm, I'm not sure yet, I'll need to decide if I want symmetry or not.

I simplified her arm from her show look, by trimming the amount of yellow into a few clear plates to cover the main workings. I never was sure how she managed to spray it perfectly enough on the finger grooves to not get paint everywhere.

Her necklace has turned into a clasp at her throat now, jsut to prevent it swinging around in combat, and the qipao is now at its longest, but still cut high over the sides so it's not impeding her movement. The pattern at the bottom is a fire pattern I found that also looked vaguely watery, which I think made it perfect, since she's kind of mixing the two into her mindset at this point, she's doing the kung fu panda thing, she's seeking inner peace. And she's looking great while she does it, she has a better colour scheme here.

And that's all of them!! All I have to say. I think. Thank you so much for this question, Nonnie, it was fun. I hope the quality of the images is at least half-decent, my tumblr fucks them all so I'll never be sure

[cursedonyx]

Okay so I just read your Professor Sharp and Garlick fic and I honestly can’t tell you how much I loved it. So I was wondering if you’d be interesting in writing any additional Professor Sharp smut.

It could be with Garlick again or perhaps someone outside of Hogwarts (like someone who works at Hogsmeade or the Ministry) or even a muggle if you wanted to go that route. Obviously I’m terrible at making decisions so feel free to pick whatever scenario intrigues you the most!

As far as the details of their relationship I guess it depends on the scenario but I wouldn’t mind something sort of similar to your last fic where they’ve at least known each other for a while and can call themselves friends who are in love with each other (I also wouldn’t mind a tiny bit of jealousy being sprinkled in somehow if that’s not too many things all in one🙈).

Also please don’t feel pressured to write this if it’s not particularly igniting anything for you! I love your writing so much so thank you for even just reading this!💕

Thank you for the request, and sorry it took longer than I thought it would, life can be a real sod sometimes!

I decided to use this as an excuse to continue the Sharp/Garlick fic of before, because why the hell not? Hope it’s what you wanted 💚

Word Count – 2.7k

Warnings – Smut (MDNI 🔞) Jealousy, PiV, Fingering, On the Desk

It had been almost a week since Aesop had allowed himself a single night of indulgence with the fire-haired enchantress that had captured his mind, body and soul with a single look. He could almost pinpoint when he had first become truly entranced with the young and beautiful Mirabel Garlick, the moment she had returned to Hogwarts as no longer a student, but a professor, and his curiosity with her bloomed into obsession.

The years of secret, seemingly mutual pining had paid off, for they had finally ended up tangled in the sheets together after a night of drinking with their colleagues, and everything about it had been perfect. Well, it would have been, were it not for the fact she’d been gone by the time he woke up, leaving nothing but single, long red hair on his pillow and an ache in his cock to convince him it hadn’t all been a dream.

The following days meandering through the quiet halls of Hogwarts reminded him somewhat of a Confundus Charm. When he saw her in the corridors or at meals, she was as cordial and polite and pleasant as she’d ever been, offering wide, warm smiles and engaging him in spirited talk, just as she did with the other professors. Aesop frowned. Surely there would have been some change? Had he really disappointed her so severely she wished to pretend nothing had happened between them?

He elected to remain silent on the matter. If Mirabel wanted to act like they hadn’t done utterly sinful things to each other, then that was fine. He had the memories, at least. She was half his age, and deserved better than a crippled, scarred former Auror. He would be cordial to her, and hope his infatuation didn’t drive him to do something stupid.

He made his way to Hogsmeade, his boots crunching in fresh snow, hoping his order of rare potion ingredients had arrived at J. Pippin’s at last. An afternoon of sorting out his stores would hopefully keep his mind off the shape Mirabel’s breasts made when he slammed his cock into her.

Unfortunately, Mirabel and her breasts remained firmly at the forefront of his mind, to the point where the thoughts of her actually seemed to summon her into being as Aesop rounded the corner and saw her in the flesh just outside of Spintwitches, holding a small, wicker basket, smiling and laughing and stroking her plaits and talking to another man.

Aesop froze, the cold air nipping his cheeks as a searing fury rushed through his torso. He knew that man, the gangly little fuckwit barely four years out of Hogwarts, and if the rumours were anything to go by, firmly in the pocket of Rookwood’s notorious little gang. And he was simpering at Mirabel, his gap-toothed grin wide, his weak attempt at flirting so painfully obvious it made Aesop want to cringe.

Or curse him into oblivion.

His ingredients could wait. Aesop strode through the crowd, coming up behind Mirabel, his glower searing over her shoulder and landing directly on the pimply-faced youth, watching with satisfaction as his gawky smile faded, his wandering eyes growing wide as he stumbled back a step.

“Professor Sharp!” he gasped, and Mirabel turned, fluttering her eyelashes as she saw how close he was. “H-how nice to see you-“

“Hop it,” Aesop advised. The aspiring Ashwinder bolted almost before the second word was out of his mouth. With a satisfied huff, he glanced down at Mirabel, and his breath caught when he realised just how close they were. Neither moved away.

“I see you still strike fear into the hearts of your former students,” she said, softly, ducking her head and fiddling with her basket.

“I expect that is because that particular former student is well on his way to becoming a Dark Wizard,” Aesop muttered. He’d have to notify his former colleagues in the Auror office, especially if the little gyp was sniffing around Mirabel. He raised a hand, hesitated, then laid it on her shoulder. “Allow me to escort you back to the castle.”

“I’d like that,” Mirabel said, with a shy smile. She rested a hand on his arm, allowing him to lead the way, his scowl clearing a path through the crowd more effectively than Bombarda.

Walking the path back to the castle, he was acutely aware of the gentle weight of her hand on his forearm, sliding around to rest in the crook of his elbow, their breath misting before them. He kept his silence, longing to say something to turn the steadily solidifying air between them into something light and jovial, but he’d never been any good at that. And besides, her stalwart refusal to mention their drunken escapade made it clear to him she’d thought it a mistake.

It irritated him. This was the problem with obsessing over someone so young. They never said what was on their mind. He should move on, and stop thinking about the way her skin was a gentle peach, the way the shape of her legs showed even through her robes as she walked, the way her breasts bounced with each step…

And she’d been talking to another man. Not a professor, not even a friend, just some oik she used to know. He glowered as they entered the castle, her hand sliding off his arm as he gave her a curt nod and moved off in the direction of his office.

She followed.

Mirabel followed him all the way to his office, her light footsteps scuffing over the stone floor. Merlin, even the sound of her footsteps was enchanting to him, reminding him how light she was, how easy it was to pick her up to manhandle her, to throw her down to the bed and-

Aesop clenched his jaw. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, not at all!

But then… she wasn’t fragile. She was stronger than she looked, if the strength of her grip on his cock was anything to go by…

He cursed under his breath, shouldering into his office. He swore again when he realised he’d completely forgotten to pick up his rare ingredients. He lowered himself to sit behind his desk, wondering if Pippin would be kind enough to send them to the castle by urgent owl.

“Aesop?”

Mirabel hovered before the desk, the basket held before her legs, the V her arms made emphasising the swell of her breasts, pushing them together. “Is something wrong?”

He almost laughed. Yes, a great many things were wrong, chief of which was her bloody refusal to even acknowledge they’d slept together! But he couldn’t tell her that. If he was to have any chance of lying with her again, like he craved, he couldn’t afford to frighten her away.

But he was still pissed off.

“You should know better,” he said, firmly. “Rookwood’s little gang are notorious, and it’s not safe to associate with any of them.”

Mirabel raised her brows.

“Aesop, I’m not a student anymore,” she said, defensively. “I knew him from when we were both pupils here, he just wanted to say hello. We used to study together in the library on Wednesdays.”

“Yes, I’m sure a hello was the only thing on his mind,” Aesop clenched his jaw as Mirabel placed her basket on the desk and put her hands on her hips, emphasising their curves and pulling the material of her robes taut across her belly. He tried very hard not to look. “As a teacher of this school, it’s even more important that you’re not seen to be… fraternising with dangerous criminals.”

She frowned. “I wasn’t fraternising,” she said. “I was just being friendly. I hope you don’t think you have to watch my back all the time, I’m quite capable of making my own decisions and dealing with whatever consequences stem from them.”

A chill shivered over his shoulders, and he rose, striding to her and taking her face in his hands. Her skin was soft and warm and smooth, nothing like the rough stubble that coated his coarse skin.

“I won’t allow it,” he rumbled. “Mirabel, you must be more careful. If something happened to you…”

“I don’t need you looking out for me,” she whispered, her hands rising to his.

Aesop took a breath. Another denial, another refusal. It hurt more than he cared to admit, more than a single night of passion warranted. He had to hear her say it properly, to move on.

“I want to look out for you,” he said, brushing his thumbs over her cheeks. “Mirabel… I understand if you don’t want me, that night in Hogsmeade was… well. But I understand if you feel it was a mistake.”

Her slender brows drew together. “Mistake? Aesop, I don’t think that at all.”

He paused. A mixed signal. He didn’t like mixed signals. “You haven’t said a word about it,” he said. “You’ve been acting like nothing changed.”

“I didn’t think anything had,” she said, taking his hands from her face and slowly lowering them, his fingers drifting along her neck. “My feelings for you haven’t changed, why should my behaviour? I rather thought you believed it was a mistake, you’ve barely said three words to me since.”

He blinked. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I still want you,” she whispered, lowering his hands to her breasts, small and firm under her winter robes. “I still want to be with you. You’ve cast a spell on me, Professor, and I have no desire to escape its bonds.”

Her words sent a bolt of electricity through him, stiffening his spine and cock simultaneously. Hearing her call him Professor in that soft voice of hers, the mention of bonds conjuring the image of silken ropes around her velvety wrists in a candlelit chamber, the fact that she still wanted him, despite his fears. There was no butterbeer to smooth the way this time, no, they were both stone cold sober, and by the flush blooming over her throat as he cupped her breasts, she was as invested in what was to come next as he was.

He tucked a hand around her waist, the other winding under her plaits to cup the back of her neck, drawing her close to him. Her lips were an inch away from his own, and he hesitated, the old fears bounding through his mind. Relationships between the staff was frowned upon, and if Phineas caught wind of any affiliation other than one that was strictly professional… besides, she was too young, he was too old, she was too beautiful, he was too gruff, she was lithe and supple and perfect and deserving of more, he was in his forties and crippled and scarred and…

Mirabel closed the distance, sealing her plump lips to his with a gentle sigh. Aesop responded without thought, kissing her fiercely as she wound her arms around his neck, relishing the softness of her lips, the gentle, rose-scented breath that rushed over his tongue. He gripped the back of her robes, his hand flattening against the small of her back, and the temptation to tear them from her form was almost overwhelming, each of her soft moans slipping between her lips, into his ears and straight down to his cock, throbbing against his leg.

He pushed her back against the desk, her tongue flicking out to run over his as he lifted her onto it, her legs parting for him, rising to wrap around his waist and tugging him against her. He repressed a growl with difficulty, but a low sound rumbled in his chest all the same, and Mirabel sighed, sinking against him.

“I love it when you do that, Aesop,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him, a wicked smirk on her lips. “You have no idea what it does to me.”

He did growl this time, and he didn’t think he could have held it in if he tried. He groped for her robes as her hands slid over the buttons of his waistcoat, the cold air of his office nipping at his skin as his waistcoat and then shirt came undone under her nimble fingers. He slid her robes up over her slender thighs as she brushed her fingers over his chest, tracing the dark hair spread over his torso. Aesop returned the favour, prying apart the buttons at the top of her robes, revealing the small peaks of her marbled breasts, ducking his head to take one of the rosebuds into his mouth.

Mirabel moaned, the sound music to his ears as he wound his tongue around her nipple, savouring the sweetness of her flesh. Her hands gripped his hair, encouraging him, and with a wicked grin, he denied her, raising his head to kiss her again, his hand sliding along her slender thigh to dance over the tight curls hidden between them. She whimpered, tilting her hips up to his hand.

“Aesop…” she whined, writhing. “Please touch me.”

The keening words cut through him, flaying his desire open and leaving nothing but hunger for her. It was all he could do to restrain himself from the sinful sounds she made as he sank his fingers into her, pressing his thumb to her most sensitive parts. Mirabel whined, grasping handfuls of his coat as she rutted herself against his hand, each drawn breath expulsed in a sharp gasp.

It was a struggle to keep his focus as she whimpered and wailed against his movements, his fingers curling up to rub over the most sensitive parts of her, buried deep in the core of her being. Her hands slid down to his belt, fumbling with the fastening as he attended to her, her face pressed to his shoulder, her luscious hair coming undone from its plaits as she drew his cock out, her slender fingers gliding along him and making him shudder.

With a yelp, Mirabel pushed his hands away, the force of it enough to make him stagger back a pace. A frown crossed his brow as she gazed up at him, her expression wild. She leaned back on the desk, parting her legs further and gracing him with a full view of her sex, her parted lips and glimmering green eyes failing to draw his gaze away.

“Come on in,” she purred.

He launched forward and slammed into her, the force of it pushing her back onto the desk. She let out a cry of passion, her hands grasping at his back as she hooked her legs around him, muffling her voice against his shoulder. Aesop’s mind scattered as he was enveloped in fire, gasping some himself as she tightened her walls around him. He gripped the desk, a hand braced against her back as she writhed, a heat condensing in his abdomen as his hips flexed faster of their own accord.

Shit, not yet, not yet!

With a low growl, he drew back from her, his cock drenched, ignoring her whine of protest. He tugged her forward and turned her around, bending her over the desk, yanking her robes up to expose the perfect peach of her arse. He slid back into her, her high-pitched whimper music to his ears, pressing his chest to her back as he thrust into her repeatedly, his teeth at her neck, one hand rising to wrap gently around her throat. His other hand found hers as she began to gasp and cry out in earnest, her legs taut against his, her arse shaking with each merciless pound of his cock.

Aesop’s release was sudden and breathtaking, pitching him forward to crash against her back with an almost startled yelp as she clenched around him, draining him dry. He took a moment to catch his breath, each ragged inhale taking in the scent and taste of her luxurious hair, dishevelled and coming loose from its plaits. He raised his head, seeing her cheek pressed to his desk, her eyes half-lidded and clouded with bliss, a line of drool sliding from her lips to pool on his paperwork.

“Aesop…” she murmured. “I-if this is what it’s going to be like all the time…”

He managed a low laugh. “I hope so, Mirabel.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, unwilling to withdraw from her just yet. “But next time, let’s find somewhere a bit more comfortable.”

[frozen-snowflakesandsunflowers]

Frozen 3 thoughts: Elsa's attire

Elsa's had some really beautiful dressed and outfits over the years. From her most iconic blue "Snow Queen" attire to her white "5th Spirit" attire. All if her outfits have shown her stages of character growth, from hiding herself from everyone she loves with her coronation attire to letting herself go with her "Snow Queen" attire. But since Frozen 3 has been announced it's left the question pondering; What is her next step of her growth given she's found herself as the 5th spirit? What's the next step of her story now?

I'll be answering those exact questions in a theory regarding Elsa losing her powers and Hans returning but in this post I'll answer it by guessing and exploring the possibility for her attire in Frozen 3.

Elsa's main style is a long floor length dress with a slit be it on the right or in the middle, with a longer flowing cape and snowflake like shapes patterned all over the attire. She also likes transparency in elements of her costumes. Let's not forget she loves shoes made out of ice. So we can expect at least some of those elements in her Frozen 3 attire. Oh wait - some of you might we wondering will Elsa even get a new attire because she found herself and is the fifth spirit now. The answer to that is of course she will! There is more to her and even Anna's story to tell because if not there wouldn't be a Frozen 3 in the works. And with every new journey of finding themselves, they make, come new outfits. Here are some of Elsa's iconic looks:

She also goes for a cooler colour palette with shades of blues, whites, pinks, purples, turquoise, teal etc. There would be only a few occasions where she'd go warm which is on Anna's birthday, to match the floral theme by wearing pink and green (my personal favourite looks of Elsa). As fifth spirit, her attire includes the specific colours of each element: turquoise (water), blue (air), pale blue (earth), and purple (fire). And because she's got ice powers, and white is part of the ice and snow colour palette, it makes it the fifth spirit colour and balances out the other four spirit colours. So she'll most likely be wearing white. But as a theory goes around that she should lose her powers temporarily, her attire will reflect her powerless side. Maybe she'll wear black as opposite to her fifth spirit dress to show the title that came with the powers disappearing.

But let's look at her styles in the Broadway version of the movie. During her second solo, "Monster", she wears a different attire for it (which I absolutely am obsessed with!). She wears a pant suit. Here's a few stills of it:

It's so classy, so elegant, so Elsa! Her top half of the outfit has basically the same kind of structure as her original dress. The only difference is that this has a V-neck and that had an off the shoulder neckline and the other difference is the neckline if the bodice has a thin lining of wool. The pants are same have embroidered white pattern to it and she has below-the-knee heeled boots with a thick fur lining on the rim of it. She keeps her cape with this look which puts the cherry on the top of the cake.

I definitely would want Elsa to have this kind of look because if her fifth spirit role consists of running around the forest especially if there's danger than honestly speaking she should be wearing pants - like she did in Frozen 2 as her main look underneath her overcoat. I think I might re design the look above to make it suit for the role she was born into (Fifth Spirit).

Then we have her Disney Lorcana (Disney's trading card game) looks.

The one on the left is inspired by her attire she wears underneath her coat in Frozen 2, but it has elements of her fifth spirit attire in it. So if we see Elsa embracing new looks with her new style it could look similar to this. Her cape is along her sleeves too which is also a nod to her fifth spirit cape being 2 separate capes going down from her shoulders.

The one on the right is more a witchy look which I love. She looks like she would be called "The Northern Witch". It's inspired by one of her one of her concept arts of Frozen 2 (can be found in the Art of Frozen 2 book). Again it's got her fifth spirit emblem on it. As for her cape, it's more of a cloak here. If Elsa vanished to the North mountain again she would nail this look and if there was a magical book involved too, this would be go well.

To conclude, I would really love to see Elsa in pants again because her role as fifth spirit is less formal than her role as Queen, as it is more about protecting the forest from any kind of threats that may arise (as we are due to see hear in the upcoming podcast). Don't get me wrong, I love Elsa in dresses and skirts, it's her main iconic looks. But I think from time to time, if she wears pants it would show her change from the formal Queenly role to her free spirited role. Oh and yeah I know Elsa does have pants underneath the gown but I mean, showing it more obviously like the one in the Broadway way version. Her long capes and dress would get in the way when dealing with threats as she will in the podcast so maybe learning form that she changes.that up a bit. I mean we are going ot have new looks for both Elsa and Anna for promotion purposes too so might as well. But either way, dress or pants, I'm definitely going it be excited to see both Elsa and Anna's new looks in Frozen 3 symbolising their character or further growth in the movie.

Also I think since November will mark 10 years of Frozen, we should add the tag "A decade of Frozen". Just for celebration purposes and for fun! It feels like only yesterday we got the first movie - im not crying 🤧❄️

[amatorysacrivn]

can we get brief descriptions of what everyone looks like while ur making the character sheets?

hell yeah you can!! w/ everyone i haven't drawn yet <3

ELITA is tall, has messy black hair with blonde tips (i'm still trying to decide the hairstyle) wears a black oversized sweater with fishnets and platform boots, has one black/one pink eye, has dimple piercings, and has grey/tan skin like her twin! She has a sharp nose that swoops down and thin lips. She's fairly thin.

CY is on the shorter side, has half black half neon green shoulder length hair with a rainbow flower hairpin by the bangs, has a bandage covering one eye, wears black mini dresses beneath a pharmacist coat and black kitten heels, has green eyes, has a septum piercing, and has pale skin! she has a bump on her nose with a button tip and thick lips. She's curvy.

AZIEL has short messy brown hair, yellow eyes, red glasses, is the second tallest of the interests, usually wears layers of tops with cargo shorts and laced boots, has brown skin, and a pierced brow! He has a large straight nose and thick lips. He's toned underneath the layers.

LEVIATHAN is tall, has tanned skin, long black hair tied into a messy ponytail, wears a leather jacket w/ a lot of patches over bandages over his chest and black jeans with combat boots, has bandages over his knuckles, wears a mask that covers the lower half of his face, has one white one blue eye, and has a gun holding sash over his shoulder! He has a sharp button nose and prominent lips. He's muscular.

LAZARIA is tall, has tanned skin, has black hair with bangs that cover her eyes, wears a black turtleneck top with long sleeves tucked into red short shorts, wears combat boots, has a tongue piercing, and has a sash that holds her hatchet! She also has a sharp button nose and prominent lips. She's muscular with curves similar to Cy.

ZACK is average height with silver hair tied into a ponytail, icy blue eyes, has pale skin, wears a egg white turtleneck tucked into snow white jeans and a snow white blazer over the outfit, has a black belt and black dress shoes, wears golden glasses, has longer nails, and has a ring around his finger to keep clients from flirting with him! He has a straight nose that protrudes off his face slightly more than the rest of the cast. He's a skinny bastard.

KONSTANTIN is the tallest out of everyone, has a black jagged mullet haircut, has one grey eye and one cyan eye, has porcelain skin, wears a short sleeved black turtleneck top tucked into grey jeans that are fastened to his waist with a buckle belt, wears knee high lace up boots, wears black leather gloves, has a scar across his nose, a slit eyebrow, snakebites, and has a centipede tattoo on his arm! He has a nose that goes straight down then drops at the tip and thin lips. He's toned and a little more bulky.

CASANOVA is as tall as his twin, also has a black/pink eye combo but reversed, has light brown skin, has a gold bridge piercing and eyebrow piercing, has slicked back white hair with a heart shaped middle part made by some hair, wears a red sweater over a black button up shirt tucked into black skinny jeans and dress shoes, has a golden key around his neck, wears silver/gold rings on every finger, and wears blush with hearts at the bottom of his eyes! He has a sharp nose that swoops down and thin lips. He's toned and skinny.

KASTIEL is the third tallest of the cast, has a buzz cut that is half black half dirty blonde, has ocean teal eyes, wears dull green headphones around his neck, wears a black turtleneck t-shirt over green dusted jeans, wears bracelets, wears sneakers, has a medusa and angel bite piercings, has tan skin, and has freckles! He has a button nose and thick lips. He's frail.

[daybreakrising]

VAUTRIN - DESIGN BREAKDOWN

bc i said i'd do this & he's still scratching at the walls in my brain so...

gonna be a long, image heavy post, so i'll pop the majority under a cut, but first, a reminder of his design post-primordial sea swim:

COLOUR SCHEME

the biggest inspiration for this design is, of course, his original uniform. that's an integral part of who he is and whilst he no longer actively serves in his current timeline verse (though he will help out where he can), i wanted to keep that in his design because it will be familiar to him.

colour scheme wise, this obviously made it difficult for a pyro character - we all know hyv likes to stick to certain themes and palettes with specific elements. there are some exceptions, but the majority of characters are colour-coded in some way to the element they can wield. and... the f.ontaine uniforms are blue.

luckily, my decision to make him a redhead helped here. from there, it was easy enough to carry similar tones throughout the design - adding the cape, and tweaking the belt & boots. his trousers, too, have a red base to the colour. browns are quite common on other pyro designs, but i didn't want something too dark, so opted for a lighter pinkish-brown shade.

then it was just a case of tying the two colour schemes together: the red was already present across his full design, but the blue was largely upper body only - hence the small details on his trousers & boots to balance everything out.

and now it's time to start focusing on specific details-

THE UNIFORM

since, according to the flashbacks in neuvi's story quest, f.ontaine's uniforms haven't changed in appearance in four hundred years, we can assume that vautrin's uniform would follow the same colour scheme as the current ones, were he not covered with Ye Olde Filter:

so i wanted to keep a few design elements from said uniform in his new look, as a nod to that uniform, but i also wanted to make some changes: i opted for a darker blue to further separate it from the existing uniform, and removed some features, such as the pockets, the shape & design of the sleeves, and the decoration to the collar. i removed the black features & opted, instead, for a greyish-blue.

the biggest change, obviously, is the shape of the jacket itself. i made the front panel less rectangular and more angled, and lengthened it so it extended beyond the side panels (at the front). i'll go more into this when i discuss the design elements involved, but on a similar note, i also opted to give the jacket tails.

i love a good tailcoat, especially those from more historical periods, and it felt fitting for him. obviously, it's not a typical tailcoat, but again, there's a specific reason for the style and shape of these tails.

the boots and gloves i kept, though with changes to the colour scheme and with less of the ornamentation on the boots. the decision to swap from purple to red on the boots is purely down to a desire to reflect his pyro element (and also... it looks better, in my opinion-), but the gloves are a different story.

the gloves for the original uniform are white. there is a very good reason why vautrin would feel uncomfortable wearing gloves in a colour often used to represent innocence and cleanliness: his hands are not clean, and he is not innocent. add to that his need to wear gloves (so as not to look upon the primordial shimmer on his skin), it required a different colour. i opted for grey, as he is... well, morally grey.

now, onto the individual aspects:

THE BELT

this was one of the elements of the original uniform design that i wanted to change. as much as i like the (vaguely anchor-shaped) design of the buckle, it would be too similar to the garde uniform and i wanted to move away from too many shared elements. but, it needed a belt, and a belt needs a buckle.

what else is important to vautrin, then? well... his Medal of Peace, of course. thus, a perfect belt buckle design was staring me right in the face:

what are those golden lines, i hear you ask. well. more on that later-

THE CUFFS

there isn't much to say on this, but there's a specific element to them that i've lifted from the original garde uniform. the cuffs on the original uniform are very different, and my decision to make vautrin's that particular style is simply bc... i have a great love for "pirate" styles and i love an oversized sleeve cuff for that reason. and, given that sailor / pirate designs are dotted around f.ontaine's npcs, it made sense to lean into that a little.

now, the design element i lifted from the original uniform isn't actually anything to do with the cuffs, but rather the weapon the gardes carry. since vautrin won't be carrying this weapon himself, i wanted a subtle tie-in on his design. and there's this handy little shape that's a perfect fit-

i wanted some simple decoration on the cuff, and this was just sitting there - nice and simple, nothing too flashy.

THE TROUSERS

it's obvious from the pictures that the original uniform has a flashy design on the outer legs - this seems to be implied to be a raised design, possibly of some sturdier material, and could even be a kind of light armour (though the placement would make movement... interesting, so perhaps not). whilst i was going to lift the entire design onto vautrin, i wanted another nod to the original uniform. hence, the much more subtle and far less complex addition of these details:

in vautrin's case, these are not raised, and are actually embroidered (which... technically, would be raised, but not in the same way-). the addition of the blue was both a nod to the original uniform colour, and to help tie the colour scheme together by balancing the blue tones with the red.

OCEANID ELEMENTS

now, at last, i can get to the little details all over his jacket design that i've skipped over previously, because... yes, they are all linked to him being, technically, part-oceanid.

again, that's a big part of his character and his story, and i wanted that to be reflected in his design. so, let's talk about those details! first of all, the tails. this is one of the biggest nods to the oceanid on his design - they are, in fact, inspired by the oceanid's fins.

this is the reason for their specific shape and for the pattern of lines on the inside. the gradient of colour is also a nod to the oceanid, but also to the original uniform, which has its own gradient of blues in the design.

those lighter lines, too, are featured on the upper sleeves of his jacket. similarily, the design of these sleeves is also inspired by the oceanid's fins:

the other major nod to the oceanid is the design upon the longer front panel of the uniform. this is taken from the body of the oceanid itself - again, this shape was just perfect to slot into the design.

and, finally, the last two elements i included from the design of an oceanid are the swirling patterns on the upper parts of the fins. these can be seen here, on the lower half of his jacket:

and here, on his belt:

yep. i'm really hammering in the fact that he's an oceanid.

THE SWORD

to finish off, i just wanted to touch on the decisions behind his weapon's design. i initially wanted him to have a rifle / sword combination, but with c.hevreuse in existence, i wanted to avoid being too similar. so, whilst he is able to use a rifle, he sticks with just a sword instead.

given that f.ontaine is largely inspired by france, i chose to go with a french n.apoleonic officer's sword as the base for his weapon. something from french history just made sense, given that this man is now over 400 years old.

the blue gem decoration is a nod, again, to him being an oceanid and possessing of (minor) hydro abilities, but also to him being a guardian of the hydro nation itself. the colour decisions behind the blue of the grip and the red cloth were just to tie the weapon to his design.

so you might assume the red blade is for the same purpose, and whilst there's an element of that in there, the reason for the two-tone colour is actually to do with some nice, dark lore: the blade is red because of the blood he spilled in his previous life.

CONCLUSION

and that's it for the design breakdown! the only element i haven't discussed at length is the little cape - this was added entirely to give his design something special and steer him away from the plainer npc designs, but also, such adornments are typically given to those of higher ranks or of noteworthy position, and it felt right that vautrin should have something of that nature to denote his years of service

and it was a great spot to display his vision, and add some of that much needed pyro-red to his upper design.

honestly, if you've read all this... well done. i hope you enjoyed my rambles over this silly little oceanid man who lives in my head rent free.

[the-whispers-of-death]

i desire overly detailed descrptions of your ocs. every scar, every mark, every shape, their clothes, their hair style EVERYTHING PLEASE I JUST WANT TO TRY TO DRAW STONE (and maybe the others too) I DESIRE HIM IN THE MOST UN-CHRISTIAN WAYS

Hehe, feel free to draw Stone and the others, it makes me feel so happy that others love them too.

So, I've already described Stone physically in this ask, but have some more info on him. His eye shape would be classified as almond, and he has thick eyelashes. He gets compliments on them whenever he's at the optometrist. His nose shape is like a bulbous nose shape.

His hair isn't buzzed, not like the others, it's a little longer like this haircut:

https://images.app.goo.gl/JsqfUJLUf5DFQAFA7

But obviously, he's not the guy in the picture. I just found a random Google image, not claiming it.

As for his clothing style, he wears all-black clothing. Not really leather, it's just black clothes. Could be long-sleeves or short sleeves, does not matter to this man. Man just throws whatever's in his closet, knowing it's all one color palette (he would never be described as someone with a good sense of fashion). Like it's either black clothing, or a cameo uniform for when he's working. No in between. So he's often wearing boots, combat boots.

Kali has a slightly lighter skin tone than Stone, so Stone's is russet brown while Kali's more of a golden brown. It's still dark, but not nearly as dark as Stone's, if that makes sense. It's a cooler skin tone.

His eye shape is down-turned and he too also has thick eyelashes. Kali has a button nose, spread the word. His nose is short and cute. I said what I said. His hairstyle is still Marine style, despite no longer being in the Marines, so his black hair is buzzed. But it is curly when it's longer which it is growing longer because he technically doesn't have to keep it buzzed.

He has very few scars, and there's mostly knife scars. So two on his chest, going horizontal. And there's a very old bullet wound on his stomach, closer to his left side.

As for his tattoo, it's a complex tattoo of an eagle and a globe with the words "Semper Fi" below it. Granted, all of The Lions (Kali, Sarabi, Simba, & Nala) all have that tattoo but it's on different places. So his is on his right arm, by arm I mean it's the forearm.

His clothing type is flora, he loves floral clothing and he doesn't care about people saying it doesn't fit him. Give him floral shirts and pants and he'd be happy. Catch him wearing those shirts that are classified as Hawaiian shirts. In that respect, he also wears a cowboy hat (because he's a southerner and a cowboy) and yeah, he knows it doesn't go well with the floral clothing. He doesn't care.

He wears sneakers or cowboy boots when he's not working, combat boots when he is working.

Sarabi's skin tone would be described as a light brown, think Priyanka Chopra-Jones' skin tone. It has warm undertones but it's not dark brown. He's lightest of all of the OCs, simply because he's mixed. He has some Indian features and some Russian features.

His eye shape is round and his eyelashes aren't super thick like the others. His nose shape is long but it's crooked, his nose has been broken several times by enemies before he switched to wearing his black balaclava and the hard-plated yellow-gold lioness mask.

His hairstyle is similar to Stone's, so look at the link for that one.

Sarabi only has the second most scars (Stone has the most) with third-degree burns from that fated "Minvera" mission where all of The Lions except Kali were thought to have died in. And it's all on his right side, from head to toe. He was very fortunate that his hair grew back despite being burned off on the right side from that mission. He had skin grafts done on him, but it's still a gnarly sight to see.

His tattoo is still visible, due to it being on his left arm. So it's like Kali's, on the forearm, but it's just his left forearm as opposed to the right.

His clothing type is also all-black clothing like Stone's, but he covers every single inch of his body up. You will not see this man wear short sleeves. So he wears turtlenecks and long pants, most times in layers so he'd have a turtleneck on and a black leather jacket. It's because of his burn scars and he was advised not to let them be exposed to sunlight, which is also why he usually never takes off his balaclava and mask. He's not ashamed of his scars, he's just covering it up because of the healing process. He wears Doc Martens when he's not working and you cannot convince me otherwise.

Simba and Nala both have the same hairstyle, buzzed and very close to the scalp. Nala's skin tone is umber whereas Simba's russet brown like Stone's. They both have noses that are classified as Nubian noses. Simba has hooded eyelids and Nala has an up-turned eye shape.

So Simba's scars are mostly knife scars on his torso and he has a few knife scars on his calves. The most prominent scar is the one on his back (also from the "Minerva" mission) and it's a bullet scar on where his spine is, hence why he had to undergo a lot of physical rehabilitation due to being semi-paralyzed for six months. His tattoo is on his right bicep.

Nala's scars are an old knife scar that goes from his left eyebrow all the way through his left eye and stops on his cheekbone and a bullet wound scar on his abdomen, like right in the middle. He's not blind in the left eye, so it's still brown as the right eye is too. His tattoo is on his left bicep as opposed to right.

Simba's clothing style is pink clothes. He started wearing pink because his son started wearing pink when he was five (his son is now roughly ten years old) and so to combat the judgy soccer moms, he started wearing pink too. And now his closet is just full of pink clothes so that's all he has. He wears Crocs or sneakers when he's not working.

Nala has like peak dad clothes, khakis, polo shirts. He's a dad and you know it from looking at him, even from a mile away. He also has those sunglasses that have the strap attached to the ends. But instead of wearing sneakers when not working, he only ever wears combat boots. I cannot tell you why he gives me the vibe of "I only have combat boots as shoes".

[adobe-outdesign]

Have you reviewed the rapidash line? both regular and/or galarian?

Ponyta is fine; in true Gen 1 fashion the concept is stupidly simple, just a horse with a fire mane, but it is a unique enough premise to still be memorable and not Just A Horse. The only other thing really notable about it is its cat-like ears, which ironically used to be more horse-like in the original Gen 1 artwork. I've heard some people complain about this, but given that it's an additional interesting element, I actually think it ads to the design rather than subtracts from it.

I do think that Ponyta and Rapidash are pretty similar to each other, so I do kind of wish Ponyta had a more drastic change compared to its evo (that isn't just the eye being brown or the lack of horn). I think one easy way to do this would've been to keep the flames more smooth—the head flame is already burning smoothly compared to the rest of the body, so just do that for all the flames. And secondly, I think Ponyta should've been lacking the flames around the legs; they're not needed at this stage, and it gaining them when it evolved would've made Rapidash much more fiery in comparison.

Speaking of Rapidash, I don't have a lot to say about it that I didn't already say above. The change from a pony to a unicorn is a little something to give it a sense of progression, but the unicorn horn is so subtle you'd be forgiven for not even noticing it. Maybe if it were longer or black like the hooves it would've stood out a bit more. Otherwise, it's still a fine fire horse; nothing fancy but it gets the job done.

Not gonna lie, I'm not a huge fan of the Galarian version of this line. It's not that the design is bad or anything, but more of a conceptual issue. Hear me out: having their manes be made of fire was literally the only thing the original line had going for it. So by creating a regional where they immediately give it a regular mane, it... kind of has absolutely no connection to the original line. Like, this could have 100% been its own Pokemon with a few tweaks to the anatomy and body shape. We have plenty of dog, monkey, cat, etc. Pokemon, so I don't see why two separate unicorns would've been an issue.

That aside, this design is fine enough. It's unfortunately a pretty generic unicorn due to the mane being a psychical thing instead of something elemental, but the white, blue and purple palette is really nice to look at, and it's pretty cute to boot. Said mane also lights up when it shares energy, which is a nice touch that adds some pleasant light yellows to the mix.

I do find it weird that it already has a horn at this stage. The pony to unicorn thing the original line had going on was the only major sense of progression it had, so it now being it a unicorn all the way through feels a bit off and is another reason this would've made more sense as its own thing. That aside, if you like modern unicorns, you'll certainly like this Pokemon just fine.

I will give Galarian Rapidash points for changing the mane from a fluffy design to a long, flowing design; it creates a visual difference between the two stages that helps compensate for the now permanent horn. I also like the horn is much more prominent here, with the black coloring matching that of the ears and hooves. Not much else to say about it that I I didn't already say with Ponyta; it's a decent unicorn, but one that doesn't really have much to do with the original line.

For the record, I think one angle they could've taken with this line would've been instead to keep the elemental mane but make the anatomy look like more old heraldic unicorns, which had features like cloven hooves, lion tales, and beards.

This would've made sense for the Galar region, and also would have instantly differentiated the two versions while actually keeping the root concept of an intangible mane in-tact. This mane could stay fiery or it could be ethereal purple psychic energy or something; as long as that concept was kept, it would both be a more unique take on a unicorn and one that would've been justified as a regional.

(I've also heard some people suggest other types of mythical horse-like creatures, such as kelpies or pegasi. I think a pegasus/alicorn would make more sense as an evo/mega than a regional, but regardless those concepts would've also worked out well.)

Anyway, as a whole: the original line was pretty straightforward but memorable enough, though a bit more distinction could've been used between the stages. The Galarian version is nicely designed but somewhat generic, and would've made more sense as a separate line entirely. Overall, some decent honses.