#but that pigtail + bikini nonsense...

[faithlike-potatoes]

Hehe it's Pokemon Conquest design ranking part two

(spoilers for Warlord final evos? Is that a thing?)

[cliffordchick]

Author’s Note: Wow, it’s been a long time since I’ve done this but here goes. I originally wrote this as a writing exercise with different characters in mind but decided it would be the perfect piece to test out my fic writing skills again. Please be kind but also don’t be shy with the criticism or love. 

“I never imagined myself in a wedding dress,” you say. You study your reflection for a moment in the floor-length mirror before your eyes drift towards Calum. He’s kneeling on the floor in front of you, pushpins balancing dangerously in between his lips. You can tell he’s trying not to look up at you, his eyes trained on the hem he’s working on. You stifle a sigh and push on. “I always thought if I got married, I’d just show up at the courthouse in jeans and a t-shirt. Oh! Maybe a bikini fresh from a dip in a hotel pool!”

The pushpins scatter, flying in all different directions as Calum lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re something else, you know that?” He drops the hem of the gown and runs his now free hands through his hair.

“You’d be so bored without me,” you pipe. 

Bored doesn’t even begin to describe it; he thinks as he steals a glance at you for the first time. He thinks back to the moment he first laid eyes on you, all those years ago. You guys were seven, and you were hanging upside down on the monkey bars, pigtails grazing the wood chip-covered ground in the breeze. He was drawn to you instantly, even when you let out the most menacing, Wicked Witch of the West style laugh.

Calum’s so lost in the memory he doesn’t even have time to process what you’re doing until it’s too late. You’re on your hands and knees, helping him pick up the stray pins. His heart nearly stops when the delicate lace on the bodice catches on the crystal appliqués of the floor-length mirror.

“Would you please just stand there and look pretty,” Calum hisses, shaking his head.

His words may be harsh, but you know there’s nothing but love underneath them. There’s never been anything but love underneath his words. Even that time he told you to “fuck off” when you barged into his dorm room freshman year, moments before he lost his virginity. You shake your head, willing the memory to go back into its box in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind.

You stand, looking down at Calum with a pout forming on her face. The Y/N Pout™ as Calum has come to refer to it as. “Am I not always pretty?”

Calum lets out an exasperated sigh. This is what he gets for asking you to fill in for a bride-to-be who had to cancel her fitting for a “venue emergency.” As if the wedding venue was more important than the wedding dress that cost the same as several month’s worths of rent at his shitty studio apartment.

“You’re gorgeous, Y/N; you don’t need me to tell you that.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it,” you say, sticking your tongue out. Truthfully, he’s the only one who has ever called you gorgeous, but you’re not about to tell him that. It’ll just make him blush. And if there’s one thing you can’t resist, it’s a blushing Calum. Instead, you make a big show of getting back onto the pedestal, picking the bottom of the gown up as if you’re an eighteenth-century Princess who has just let the love of her life walk out on her. “How does she expect to dance in this thing?”

Calum reclaims his spot, kneeling in front of you. One hand holding the delicate fabric, the other working a pushpin through it for the seamstress. “She won’t. That’s what the reception dress is for.”

“A reception dress?” you choke out. “But she spent,” you pause, looking at the receipt on the small side table. “$10,000!” You fan yourself and turn around. “Ty, I don’t think I should be wearing this dress.”

Calum grunts in response, pushpins back between his lips. If there’s anyone who should be wearing this dress, it’s you. He quickly shakes the thought away, steadying his hands as he works the pushpin through.

“What kind of monster spends $10,000 on a dress she’s not even going to wear the whole night! I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t you dare,” Calum warns, working the final pushpin through the fabric, securing the hemline. He stands, wiping his hands on his pants before offering you his hand. “Come on queasy, let’s get you out of that dress before you do something stupid.”

“I don’t think anything is stupider than spending $10,000 on a wedding dress,” you say, accepting his hand. You try to ignore the static shock that jolts through your body at the contact. He’s helped you up millions of times, and this should be no different. Before you have time to dwell, you carefully make your way back to the small dressing room.

Calum cleans up as you wrestle with the gown in the dressing room. A thread of profanities falls from your lips before you emerges a moment later in a bright pair of jeans and a polka-dotted sweater. You gently hand the gown to Calum, who gingerly hangs it back up on a rack full of white dresses — none of which sparkle quite like this one.

“I feel human again!” you shout, dancing around the room. “Next time you need a fill-in bride for a fitting, do me a favor and don’t call me.”

It’s Calum’s turn to pout, brown eyes growing three times the size. “But whatever are best friends for if not for trying on ridiculously expensive wedding dresses?”

“Fine,” you say, giving in. “But I expected a proper proposal next time. None of this five am emergency text nonsense.”

Calum grabs your hand and immediately drops to his knees; a playful glint dances across his eyes. You look at him wide-eyed, lips tugging up at the corners. “Y/N Y/L/N, will you be my fake bride from now until eternity?”

You clap your free hand over your mouth. “Oh, Calum,” you say, taking on a British accent for reasons not even she knows. “It would be my honor.”

Calum laughs so hard he loses his balance, sending you both tumbling to the pearly white floor. “What was that accent?” Calum manages to get out between laughs and gasps for air.

“I don’t know!” you shout, eyes brimming with tears from laughter. “It sort of just popped out.”

“Don’t you mean it, popped out?” Calum says, delivering the last part in his own take on a terrible British accent.

You shove him away before quickly pulling him back towards you. You bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I hate you.”

“Hate you too,” he says as his smile spreads across his face revealing a dimple on his cheek.

You stay like that for a moment. A tangled web of limbs, laughing and enjoying each other’s closeness. It’s been a while since you’ve just reveled in each other’s company even though you both live in the same city. Calum’s been busy, working crazy hours to prove himself at Something Blue, the wedding gown boutique that specializes in outrageous, occasionally blue-dyed wedding gowns. And you’ve been holed up in random libraries, working on your dissertation. You do text throughout the day. You send him various gifs of a person jumping off a bridge, and Calum responds with various pictures of glorious diner food items you’d miss if you did it. And you try to FaceTime at least once a week, but it’s not the same as being in each other’s presence. When the two of you are together, it’s almost like you’re two sides of the same person. You complete each other.

Neither of you is ready to pull apart, but your stomach doesn’t get the memo, sending an echoing growl through Something Blue. You move from the crook of Calum’s neck and instead muffle your laughter in his chest. Calum does his best to keep his heartbeat under control.

“Come on. I think I owe you and your Hungry, Hungry Hippo stomach breakfast.”

“Frankie’s breakfast extravaganza?” you ask, pulling away from Calum so you can look up into his eyes. It takes all your might not to reach out and poke the dimple on his cheek.

Calum gasps dramatically, “I’m offended you have to ask!”

Just as quickly as you fell, you’re back on your feet and standing a safe distance away from each other. The loss of contact is immediately felt between both of you but neither wants to admit it, out loud or to yourselves. Calum runs a nervous hand through his hair as his cheek dimple disappears. You tug at your sweater that had ridden up before you turn towards him, smiling again.

“Shall we,” you ask, British accent back in full force.

Calum shakes his head before offering you his arm, “Lead the way, m’lady.”

[wanderlustxprincess]

Daily Writing Prompt Challenge - Day 1

“I never imagined myself in a wedding dress,” Delilah says. She studies her reflection for a moment in the floor-length mirror before her eyes drift towards Tyler. He’s kneeling on the floor in front of her, pushpins balancing dangerously in between his lips. She can tell he’s trying not to look up at her, his eyes trained on the hem he’s working on. She stifles a sigh and pushes on. “I always thought if I got married, I’d just show up at the courthouse in jeans and a t-shirt. Oh! Maybe a bikini fresh from a dip in a hotel pool!”

The pushpins scatter, flying in all different directions as Tyler lets out a hearty laugh. “You’re something else, Del.” He drops the hem of the gown and runs his now free hands through his hair.

“You’d be so bored without me,” Delilah pipes. 

Bored doesn’t even begin to describe it; he thinks as he steals a glance at Delilah for the first time. He thinks back to the moment he first laid eyes on her, all those years ago. They were seven, and she was hanging upside down on the monkey bars, pigtails grazing the wood chip-covered ground in the breeze. He was drawn to her instantly, even when she let out the most menacing, Wicked Witch of the West style laugh. 

Tyler’s so lost in the memory he doesn’t even have time to process what Delilah is doing until it’s too late. She’s on her hands and knees, helping him pick up the stray pins. His heart nearly stops when the delicate lace on the bodice catches on the crystal appliqués of the floor-length mirror. 

“Would you please just stand there and look pretty,” Tyler hisses, shaking his head.

His words may be harsh, but Delilah knows there’s nothing but love underneath them. There’s never been anything but love underneath his words. Even that time he told her to “fuck off” when she barged into his dorm room freshman year, moments before he lost his virginity. Delilah shakes her head, willing the memory to go back into its box in the deepest, darkest corner of her mind.

Delilah stands, looking down at Tyler with a pout forming on her face. The Delilah Pout™ as Tyler has come to refer to it as. “Am I not always pretty?” 

Tyler lets out an exasperated sigh. This is what he gets for asking Delilah to fill in for a bride-to-be who had to cancel her fitting for a “venue emergency.” As if the wedding venue was more important than the wedding dress that cost the same as several month’s worths of rent at his shitty studio apartment.

“You’re gorgeous, Delilah; you don’t need me to tell you that.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like hearing it,” she says, sticking her tongue out. Truthfully, he’s the only one who has ever called her gorgeous, but she’s not about to tell him that. It’ll just make him blush. And if there’s one thing Delilah can’t resist, it’s a blushing Tyler. Instead, she makes a big show of getting back onto the pedestal, picking the bottom of the gown up as if she’s an eighteenth-century Princess who has just let the love of her life walk out on her. “How does she expect to dance in this thing?” 

Tyler reclaims his spot, kneeling in front of Delilah. One hand holding the delicate fabric, the other working a pushpin through it for the seamstress. “She won’t. That’s what the reception dress is for.” 

“A reception dress?” Delilah chokes out. “But she spent,” she pauses, looking at the receipt on the small side table. “$10,000!” She fans herself as she turns around. “Ty, I don’t think I should be wearing this dress.” 

Tyler grunts in response, pushpins back between his lips. If there’s anyone who should be wearing this dress, it’s you. He quickly shakes the thought away, steadying his hands as he works the pushpin through. 

“What kind of monster spends $10,000 on a dress she’s not even going to wear the whole night! I think I’m going to be sick.” 

“Don’t you dare,” Tyler warns, working the final pushpin through the fabric, securing the hemline. He stands, wiping his hands on his pants before offering his hand to Delilah. “Come on queasy, let’s get you out of that dress before you do something stupid.” 

“I don’t think anything is stupider than spending $10,000 on a wedding dress,” she says, accepting his hand. She tries to ignore the static shock that jolts through her body at the contact. He’s helped her up millions of times, and this should be no different. Before she has time to dwell, she carefully makes her way back to the small dressing room.

Tyler cleans up as Delilah wrestles with the gown in the dressing room. A thread of profanities falls from her lips before she emerges a moment later in a bright pair of jeans and a polka-dotted sweater. She gently hands the gown to Tyler, who gingerly hangs it back up on a rack full of white dresses — none of which sparkle quite like this one. 

“I feel human again!” Delilah says, dancing around the room. “Next time you need a fill-in bride for a fitting, do me a favor and don’t call me.”

It’s Tyler’s turn to pout, brown eyes growing three times the size. “But whatever are best friends for if not for trying on ridiculously expensive wedding dresses?” 

“Fine,” Delilah says, giving in. “But I expected a proper proposal next time. None of this five am emergency text nonsense.”

Tyler grabs her hand and immediately drops to his knees; a playful glint dances across his eyes. Delilah looks at him wide-eyed, her lips tugging up at the corners. “Delilah Albright, will you be my fake bride from now until eternity?” 

Delilah claps her free hand over her mouth. “Oh, Tyler,” she says, taking on a British accent for reasons not even she knows. “It would be my honor.” 

Tyler laughs so hard he loses his balance, sending them both tumbling to the pearly white floor. “What was that accent?” Tyler manages to get out between laughs and gasps for air. 

“I don’t know!” Delilah shouts, eyes brimming with tears from laughter. “It sort of just popped out.” 

“Don’t you mean it, popped out?” Tyler says, delivering the last part in his own take on a terrible British accent. 

Delilah shoves him away before quickly pulling him back towards her. She buries her face in the crook of his neck. “I hate you.” 

“Hate you too,” he says as his smile spreads across his face revealing a dimple on his cheek. 

They stay like that for a moment. A tangled web of limbs, laughing and enjoying each other’s closeness. It’s been a while since they’ve just reveled in each other’s company even though they both live in the same city. Tyler’s been busy, working crazy hours to prove himself at Something Blue, the wedding gown boutique that specializes in outrageous, occasionally blue-dyed wedding gowns. And Delilah’s been holed in random libraries, working on her dissertation. They do text throughout the day. Delilah sends him various gifs of a person jumping off a bridge, and Tyler responds with various pictures of glorious diner food items she’d miss if she did it. And they try to FaceTime at least once a week, but it’s not the same as being in each other’s presence. When they’re together, it’s almost like they’re two sides of the same person. They complete each other. 

Neither one is ready to pull apart, but Delilah’s stomach doesn’t get the memo, sending an echoing growl through Something Borrowed. Delilah moves from the crook of Tyler’s neck and instead muffles her laughter in his chest. Tyler does his best to keep his heartbeat under control. 

“Come on. I think I owe you and your Hungry, Hungry Hippo stomach breakfast.”

“Frankie’s breakfast extravaganza?” Delilah asks, pulling away from Tyler so she can look up into his eyes. It takes all her might not to reach out and poke the dimple on his cheek. 

Tyler gasps dramatically, “I’m offended you have to ask!”

Just as quickly as they fell, they’re back on their feet and standing a safe distance away from each other. The loss of contact is immediately felt between them but neither wants to admit it, out loud or to themselves. Tyler runs a nervous hand through his hair as his cheek dimple disappears. Delilah tugs at her sweater that had ridden up before she turns towards him, smiling again. 

“Shall we,” Delilah asks, British accent back in full force. 

Tyler shakes his head before offering her his arm, “Lead the way, m’lady.” 

[scurvgirl]

Casserole vampire au plz? 😶😶😶😶

You mean sexy biting? Yes, yes good. Since @justanartsysideblog already has a classic vampire AU, here is a Modern Vampire AU! 

Melarue belongs to @justanartsysideblog of course

NSFW!

Fang Fling

__________________________

“I am getting trashed tonight!” Shokrakar laughs, twirling around in her bikini top and short-shorts. Her black, curly hair bounces from its pigtails and the light catches along the body glitter she has generously coated her body with. 

Kass rolls her eyes, but smiles at the other woman’s antics. Her own outfit is revealing, though not quite as provocative. She chose a regular crop top instead of the string bikini, and her shorts are high waisted. She decided against the body glitter because that never turns out well for her.

“You sure that’s the best idea, Shok?”

“The wig looks good, Kass, stop questioning it!” 

Kass sighs and looks back in the mirror. The wig looks weird. Her tight, coily curls hidden under a bald cap where a special made soft pink wig rests on top. She has bangs and they’re pink! It’s a long wig too, the tips reaching past her collarbone which is a trip. She’s used to hair that grows out, not down. 

The wig had been Shok’s suggestion. Something different! Something fun for the bonfire tonight! This ridiculous bonfire tonight. 

Sure, Kass could use the distraction from…everything. After breaking up with Qal and then pursuing her Master’s like she’s always dreamed, she hasn’t had the ability to just relax and have a good time. Undergrad was defined by her relationship with Qal and now that she’s done with her Master’s and has a publishing job lined up for her in the next month…well, it’s time to let loose a little. So when Shokrakar said she was heading out to an island with some friends for a festival, Kass uncharacteristically agreed to go. 

Now she’s here, dolled up in way too short shorts and a pink wig that Qal would have despised. That thought alone endears her to it just a bit more. It’s not her thing usually, but she can work with it tonight. 

By the time they get the beach, it’s dark and the bonfire is already lit, smoke billowing up into the night sky. Bass heavy music fills the night, the ground vibrating with the beats. Drunk beach goers sway and dance and sing nonsensically along with the song that Kass doesn’t recognize. 

Shok laughs and seems to immediately fall into the swaying bodies, dancing and drinking - wait, when did she get that drink? They just got here! Kass looks around and only sees people with drinks, but no actual place to get a drink. Is this something she missed in undergrad while sheltered and relegated to attending a minimal number of classes? How to navigate a beach bonfire party? Or at least where to find a drink? 

Even when she’s trying to let loose, things are complicated it seems. Whatever, she can dance without a drink. Picking up on the beat and swaying forward with her hips, Kass joins in the dancing. She sways and gyrates and jumps, sweating her worries away into the night. 

Oh now why didn’t she do this sooner? Like right after she dropped Qal? This would have been ten times better than the gallon of ice cream she sobbed into as she picked up her broken pieces. But then again, if she hadn’t done that, she doesn’t suppose she’d be here. Well, she’s here now, whole and happy and dancing because damn if she doesn’t have the rest of her life to look forward to! 

“Woo!” She shouts, throwing her hands into the air.

“Get it, girl!” A partygoer shouts and Kass laughs, wiggling her hips a little more. There’s some hollering and while at first it’s unnerving, she finds it sorta nice. Everyone is dancing and cheering and having a good time. 

A girl passes by in a blue wig, or maybe she dyed it, and offers Kass a drink, but she refuses it. She’d like to stay sober for this, she thinks. She wants to remember this feeling. She’d bottle it if she could, it’d be so much better than any alcoholic beverage - just…the feeling of freedom and accomplishment, the knowledge that for once she is in control of her life and things are good. 

She turns around and her eyes open just enough to see through the fire the face of someone so beautiful and out of place, she wonders if she just imagined them. They’re taller than many of the party-goers, pale with dark hair and eyes so alert that they can’t be intoxicated like almost everyone else. They seem familiar, but she can’t place exactly where or why.

Kass blinks, expecting them to be gone, but they’re still there - her pale blue eyes meeting their liquid silver ones through the flames. They are an intense kind of beautiful, the kind that you find in the hallowed pages of couture magazines, all angles and perfect skin, eyes so sharp you feel them even through the page. 

Normally, Kass would blush and avert her gaze, what chance does she stand with someone like that? While they are all angles and lithe beauty, she is soft and full, sweet looking but not a true beauty. Her nose is just a bit too big, her eyebrows not quite full enough, her figure not as firm as it could be. 

But tonight is not a normal night and Kass is wearing a pink wig and damned if she is going to let herself fall into the shadows tonight of all nights. She maintains their gaze and sways her hips, slow and sensual. She bites her lower lip, letting the plump skin fall away as she skims a hand down her body.

What is she doing? This is insanity, why would - oh heavens, they’re heading towards her. They move with the grace of a cat, not minding any of the gyrating dancers and somehow managing not to touch any of them. 

Her heart races as they close enough for her to see that they are even more gorgeous up close. They’re not quite as tall as she, but they have a presence that makes her feel small in an oddly delicious way.

“You are enthralling,” they murmur, leaning in close to her ear. It seems like they are going to take to dancing with her like some of the others, but they don’t even touch her, just lean in close  to whisper in her ear.

She blushes, but doesn’t stop herself from replying, “You’re not so bad yourself.” There seems to be this invisible barrier between them, just a thin layer where they aren’t touching and she finds she hates that. She wants to touch them, wants them to touch her. Not to be presumptuous, Kass moves her body and elongates her neck, just to be inviting. 

They break the barrier. They reach up and brush a hand across her cheek. “What is your name?”

“Kass,” she breathes, leaning into them.

“Kass,” they whispers before closing the distance and kissing her. Their lips are soft and perfect and they taste like…like…oh she doesn’t know, but they are a seriously good kisser. They move their move perfectly against hers, tongue slipping out to tease her lips. She gives in easily, leaning more fully into them. 

Her hands slide into their soft, silky hair while theirs seem to travel all over her body at once. They’re at her waist, cradling her face, gripping her behind. 

She gasps into their mouth and a moan escapes her. 

Oh it has been way too long since she’s been properly kissed like this. Has she ever been kissed like this? It doesn’t matter, she guesses, as long as it doesn’t stop. 

She doesn’t know their name and they’re her entire world right now. Crazy. Crazy amazing. 

This is so out of character for Kass that she doesn’t even know what she’s doing, but whatever it is…she doesn’t want it to ever stop. She feels unstoppable and sexy and on fire in the best of ways. 

And then they break away.

She makes a noise of protest but they give her a quick reassuring peck and take her hand. 

“Come with me,” they purr and yes, oh yes, she wants to go with him. She’ll go anywhere with them if they just promise to keep kissing her like that. 

They lead her away from the bonfire and to a large piece of driftwood. She turns around, about to ask them what’s going on when they’re kissing her again and all trains of thought leave her. She moans into their mouth and gives into the sensations filling her body. Their hands feel more purposeful now, skimming up her sides to swells of her breasts. 

Yes, touch me please, she thinks and wonderfully, they do. They cup her breasts, trail their hands down her stomach then around to her behind, grasping it and pulling her closer to them.

“You are vision,” they say, breaking their kiss only to pepper kisses along her cheek and down her neck. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.” Their tongue darts out along her neck and an electric shiver runs through her, making her whimper. Pleasure builds into a throb within her that seems only relieved by their mouth. They kiss and lick and tease her neck in the most amazing, sensual way that leaves Kass gasping with pleasure. Some part of her recognizes how strange this is, but another part, the bigger, happier part is just enjoying the feeling of this beautiful person lavishing attention upon her like this. 

A sharp, brief sting in her neck draws her from her thoughts, but that pain is quickly replaced with the greatest euphoria she has ever experienced. 

“Oh!” she moans openly, her hand coming up to cradle their head as they likely suck the most incredible hickey into her neck. And she can’t bring herself to care. So what if she has the world’s worst hickey? It’s worth it for this. 

Pleasure so intense it has her clenching her thighs together, aching for them to touch her, to relieve this pressure. 

“Please, please, oh.” If she were aware of how desperate she sounds, she’d probably be quieter, but all she knows, all she feels is this need for them. For more. 

Taking the not-so-subtle hint, they sneak a hand between their bodies and undo the button and zipper to her shorts to slip a hand inside. They cup her and rub her until she is a keening mess, grinding into their hand, their mouth still working her neck. 

Who knew my neck was so sensitive like this? She certainly didn’t know! She’s been missing out, clearly.

They work her so well that it doesn’t take long for her pleasure to reach its peak in a glorious, explosive fashion. She bites her lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, and even then, her mewls of satisfaction escape. 

They remove their hand from her, redo her shorts and lift their head from her neck. Their eyes are hooded with pleasure and she wants to ask them where they can get a room to finish things properly. 

“Thank you, Kass,” they say and she snorts.

“I should thank you.”

They smile and she leans forward, wanting to kiss them again. 

“You stepped away from the party for fresh air,” they say and she stops, her mind growing foggy.

“I stepped away…”

“For fresh air,” they finish. They glance to her lips and sigh, “You have no memory of me or our interlude.” 

“I have no memory of you…”

**

One month later…

Kass walks into Serpent’s Publishing with a giant smile on her face and a bigger container of coffee that will help her get through the day. It’s her first day and she is not going to be foggy just because she seems to be plagued with recurring…sex dreams of a faceless figure from the night of the bonfire. Nope. She is here to kick editing butt and knock the socks off of her boss, and that is what she is going to do.

She drops her stuff off at her cubicle before walking to the break room where a welcome breakfast is being held for the new members of the team. She is perusing the bagels when she looks up and sees…well, the CEO and founder of the company, Melarue Bre’Atishmanerathe. They are even more striking in person, she realizes. They’re tall for an elf, with the most incredible silver eyes she’s ever seen. Their jet black hair is shorter than what she’s seen in pictures, and she wonders if they cut it recently. Still, there is no mistaking them for anyone other than Melarue. 

Taking a deep breath, and temporarily forgoing the bagels, Kass walks right up to them and sticks out her hand.

“Kassaran Tashorit, I’m a new editor, and I am so excited to be working for you.”