#but they do look more fleshy than red at this point

[ancuninfiles]

Comfort pt.2

Screenshots by @astarionposting

Words 4.9K - M/F - Astarion X F! Tav - 18+

Summary: Taking place the morning after their first night together, Nym (Tav) and Astarion explore one another further before leaving their tented refuge to greet their campmates.

Tags: smut and fluff, oral sex (male receiving), Tav is autism-coded, p in v sex, creampie, cumplay, porn with plot, jealous Astarion (of Gale)

MASTERLIST (The other chapters and other works)

Read on AO3 (recommended)

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐: 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐁𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧

˚₊‧⁺˖✮•:•:•:•:•☾☼☽•:•.•:•.•✮˖⁺‧₊˚

In the early hours of the morning, the sounds of birds singing and the Chionthar babbling filled the camp. The sky was amber, and dew formed in small droplets on each blade of grass.

The light scattered through the fabric walls of Astarion's burgundy tent, causing the light within to emanate brilliant hues of vermillion. 

Within the ruby veil lay Astarion and Nym, their arms and legs interlocking like a fleshy chain as they faced one another. The tent was tepid and humid with breath. 

Nym was the first to open her eyes. She blinked into lucidity and witnessed the trancing elf before her. He looked like a deva, his skin was so fair that it seemed to glow under the red ambience. 

Nym unlaced an arm from him, instead reaching out to caress his cheek with the backs of her fingers, and his eyes fluttered open. He watched her as she felt the skin on his cheek, then closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. 

Less than a day ago, he had woken up within the walls of Cazador’s kennels, and upon opening his eyes in the morning, he half expected to find himself there again, the last twenty-four hours having been an impossible dream. 

Astarion's skin felt soft under the pad of Nym's thumb as she admiringly took in his plush lips, and the way his eyes gleamed a gorgeous shade of crimson. 

As Astarion lay peacefully under her gaze, Nym noted that he was cute - unbelievably so, even more than any cat, which his attitude was reminiscent of.

Nym looked Astarion up and down, her image of him unrestricted by the blankets which had come off at some point during the night, leaving them laying in complete nudity, dovetailing calves and feet.

Nym's eyes danced lower to Astarion’s waist, then paused to rest on his fully erect length. Despite her limited knowledge of the vampyr, the sight of his morning wood still came as somewhat of a surprise - antithetical to what she knew of the classic vampire’s low blood levels, and weak heartbeat. Perhaps it was her blood that rushed through him now?

Astarion watched raptly as Nym's face changed shades, as her gaze focused on his hardening cock. Surely, as a wood elf, she wouldn’t be faxed by his sunrise salute?

Nym's eyes were wide as they trailed back up to Astarion's face. "I can help you with that."

Astarion smiled. “Oh, don’t you worry. It’ll solve itself eventually.” Nym's offer only made his girth grow larger, but he knew what it meant to be expected to fulfill someone’s sexual desires out of obligation - and it was not a pressure he felt capable of burdening others with.

“I want to help you, Astarion.” She wore a serious expression. “It would be an honour.”

Nym's blood rushed to his cheeks and his length. ‘An honour? Gods. This little druid speaks to me as if I am some sort of deity.’ 

He was desperate to hold his composure, but his cock throbbed with want, and, Nym's earnest stare only further challenged his resolve.

At this moment, he wanted nothing but to lose himself in Nym all over again. To disappear into transient bliss, for however long his body would let him.

Nym unbound their bodies sensually, shimmying herself lower until her head was level with his chest, her left hand resting on his right arm. “Do you want me to taste you, my love?” Her eyes sought his, pleading.

A tight need within his lower abdomen abruptly overcame Astarion. ‘Taste you?’ This couldn’t be. Surely he had died and was being pursued by some ethereal nymph of Mount Celestia. He couldn’t recall the last time someone had offered to taste him; within Cazador’s clutch, it simply did not happen. He was granted eternal life specifically to serve his vampire lord by delivering victims, and most of the time that included fucking them or being fucked by them, and in neither scenario, was he ever a truly willing participant, nor were his needs ever the ones being catered to. 

His cock twitched, a bead of precum beginning to leak from its tip. He choked back a whimper, screwing up his face in repressed pleasure as Nym gazed into his eyes, slowly wriggling herself lower and lower. Expressing his current desire felt like an impossible climb to the summit of a mountain blanketed in ice and snow.

Nym bore witness as Astarion melted into a puddle of yearning, starkly unlike how he had been the previous night - so forthcoming, and vocal. Could it be that he simply wanted it so bad that he didn’t know how to express it? 

Doubt clouded her face then, and she hesitated before continuing, wondering at the cause of his reticence. Does he think he’ll hurt me? Or is he simply lost for words?

Nym paused her descent to say, “It’s not out of worry that I wish to taste you, but out of affection. I’ve spent a mere day in your presence and, despite our tragedy . . . find comfort in it. You make me feel safe, and I want to be connected with you. I want to know you, and to be known by you. I can tell you this most assuredly.” Nym spoke confidently. “But I wish for you to assure me. Please, Astarion. Tell me what you truly desire.”

“You - you want to?” Astarion gazed down at her as his eyebrows canted upwards in a deep, worrisome frown. He reached a trembling hand down to gently cup her cheek with his palm, his thumb tracing her cheekbone fondly. 

“Mhm,” she nodded, smiling endearingly. 

As a result of Nym's speech, Astarion gathered the resolve to confess his wants, which were warping into needs as his cock began to throb painfully with passion.

Astarion choked out a moan as he began to speak. “I want to fuck your pretty mouth,” he groaned needily.

“Mmm, I can’t wait to taste your cum.” 

Astarion groaned through gritted teeth at Nym's lewd words.

Nym languidly ran her left hand down his torso, stopping at his pelvis, gently nudging him onto his back before climbing atop his legs, positioning her face over his swollen member. Her right hand came up to grasp the base of his shaft and her tongue grazed his slit. 

Astarion groaned loudly enough that if anyone had been by the fire, they surely would have heard him. He reached his right hand up to fist her hair. It took everything within him not to shove his cock to the very depths of her wanting mouth and have her drooling and gagging until her face went red. 

She placed her lips around his tip and swirled her tongue, wanting to take her time tasting every inch of his beautiful cock. He tasted delicious. His flavour was lascivious and salty. She wanted more of his cock in her mouth and she wasn’t sure if she would be able to continue her teasing for much longer.

Nym lowered her head down onto his length. His cock made contact with her tongue, cheeks, lips, and the roof of her mouth. 

The sensory overload of the scene made her head go numb, from the feeling of his hand in her hair while she sucked on him, to her overwhelming desire to feel her lips at the base of his shaft until his cum leaked down her throat,  his hands roughly pushing and tugging on her scalp all the while.

Nym groaned into his cock wantonly, the soft vibrations of her voice eliciting another shiver from Astarion, his twitching cock leaking more precum into her warm mouth.

The flavour of him was enchanting. She needed to feel his cock fully inside her throat and she needed it now. 

Nym sunk her head deeply onto his shaft, obtaining a whimper from Astarion that was music to her ears. His cock was so deep inside her throat that she couldn’t breathe, and she steadied herself so that she could spend some time down there. With his cock deep enough in her throat to restrict her breathing, she positioned herself to continue more advantageously. She stuck her tongue out above her bottom lip, and it tasted the bottom of his hardened length, wiggling her wet muscle back and forth. 

It was only when she truly needed a breath that she came up, and even still, her mouth never left his cock. She opted to breathe from her nose, which had become slightly stuffy due to her ministrations. It mattered not to her, though. She thought only of the flavour of his hot liquid and the feeling of his hard cock against every fleshy surface in her wet mouth.

Nym began bobbing her head, sucking on him fervently and using her right hand to stroke what she could not easily fit in her mouth. She pumped his cock as more precum seeped out of his hardness, and she lapped up all of his flavours eagerly, moaning deeply onto him.

Astarion groaned through gritted teeth and grasped her hair. He wasn’t going to last much longer. Astarion suddenly craved Nym's supple wet pussy, and the very idea of cumming inside of it threatened to send him over the edge.

He quickly tore Nym off his cock by her hair, her lips coming up with a pop. Her jaw was slack and her mouth was covered in spend and drool, a string of saliva connecting her mouth to his length. Her eyes were half-lidded and she gazed up at him lustfully.

“Fuck, Nym. I want to cum in your pussy so badly.” He moaned desperately, thrusting his hips upwards.

“Mmm, I would love that, baby,” Nym purred.

Nym ardently climbed up to Astarion with his hand in her hair, searching for his lips with hers. Their lips brushed intimately. She stuck her tongue out to lick his lip playfully, causing him to grip her hair more tightly, smashing their lips together. His tongue sought hers with desperation as he groaned wildly into her mouth, her hips grinding frantically against his.

Nym could feel his wet, hard length bouncing on her bum. Though her core was still sore, a reminder of their previous night together, the thought of him using her further, filling her still-coated walls with even more of his seed, turned her brain into a puddle of desirous soup. 

Astarion pulled Nym from his mouth by her hair and she groaned in pleasure through her teeth. Letting go of her hair, he then slithered both of his hands down to her hips. Nym sat up and placed her hands on his toned, freckled chest, lifting her pelvis cooperatively as Astarion used his right hand to align his large member with her dripping core, while his other gripped her hips bruisingly. 

Nym sank onto his cock, taking him in fully, in one smooth motion. She revelled in the feeling of her pussy -  so perfectly sore and wet with his seed, filled with his thickness until her cervix kissed his tip. Her cunt fluttered as she reached a hand to her clit, rubbing circles on her nub and grinding on his large and punishing cock. 

Astarion groaned at the feeling. Her depths were wet and warm. He wanted to feel her release squeezing on him; no, he needed it. He grabbed both of her hips and held her to hover over him so that he could thrust up into her.

He began spearing her over and over. His pace was violent, matching that of her fingers swirling on her clit. Astarion let out a choked groan and Nym screamed in pleasure. 

Nym's nipples were hard and her tits were bouncing vigorously with each thrust. Salaciously wet sounds as well as Nym's screams reverberated throughout the entire camp. Their bodies glistened with sweat and Nym's face was a deep pink. Her hair bounced and her brows were knit upwards. Her mouth hung open and her eyes were half-closed, gleaming burgeoningly at Astarion.

His face mimicked hers in admiration. They were panting and groaning wildly with absolutely no concern for the ears of their companions. 

Nym began to tighten around him. “Astarion!” she screamed his name with great abandon. 

Her walls contracted around him, squeezing him and coaxing out his impending orgasm.

He continued fucking her through her climax. She removed her fingers from her clit as the quivering of her pussy began to slow. She threw her head back and closed her eyes, resting a hand on Astarion’s thigh and arching her spine.

Astarion snuck his hand to her swollen and sensitive bud. Having had enough, she yelped and stooped forward. Astarion took pride in her response, and he groaned in mischievous laughter. He released her clit and she craned her neck next to his head. 

Her neck was conveniently close to his mouth. Astarion, past the point of check-ins, plunged his fangs into her thoughtlessly as his cogitations grew muddy, the thought process of each moment felt more akin to a feral animal, rather than a person.

Nym squealed and sobbed. She couldn’t believe how amazing it felt to have sex with a vampire. She was finding it hard to imagine fucking without being bitten. The feeling of blood flowing out of her elevated the entire experience; becoming woozy and fuck drunk with a throbbing numbness in her throat. 

The taste of Nym's sweet blood was sending him over the edge. His breath became uneven and his thrusts became unpredictable, as an unbearable and acute tension coiled in his groin. 

He stuffed his entire cock into Nym and pulled her hips onto his length roughly. His mind was submerged into a pool of red, carnal pleasure. And then, release. Astarion’s cum shot in thick, hot ropes into  Nym's sore and swollen hole.

Her pussy was flooded with inconceivable amounts of the gorgeous vampire’s seed. She whined at the thought of it as well as the feeling of his mouth sucking and licking at her neck. 

He fucked his cum into her hole with an aggressive thrust which caused it to spurt out in all directions and drip down onto her clit. 

Astarion unlatched his teeth and cleaned Nym's bloodied throat with his tongue. He kissed and sucked at her flesh, lapping up every drop.

He grabbed her ass harshly and then smacked it, leaving a red handprint. Nym writhed and whined on top of him, insatiably grinding her hips onto the tip of his cock. 

Bodies still connected, Astarion wrapped his arms around her in a hug and then rolled her beneath him. He pulled his arms out from under her back and placed his palms to the floor of his tent on either side of her, lifting himself up.

Nym's knees were hiked up and her arms rested beside her head. She looked wrecked. Her hair was all over the place, her thighs were covered in cum, her lips were red and swollen, and her neck had four bloody puncture marks on one side, now crusted with drying blood.

He pulled out of her with a groan and their juices started pooling out of her and onto the bedroll. He lowered himself onto his elbows and smooched her tired and hot lips. She sleepily reciprocated the kiss and then smiled, sighing deeply.

He lifted his body from her before sitting on his heels. He ran his hands down her legs and squeezed her warm feet. “Thank you, darling. You’ve been divine.” He smiled genuinely, glancing downwards. 

“Hmm, you more,” she hummed. “I’m so exhausted, I just need a minute.” 

“Take your time - I’ll help clean you up, but we should ideally bathe in the river.” 

It pained him to admit that they had to leave their little escape. He was ecstatic about his newfound freedom, but perturbed about the tadpoles.

He wanted to hide away from his problems with Nym for as long as they could manage. He reached two digits to gather up his dripping seed from the curve of her ass and plunged them inside of her.

Nym groaned and wiggled her hips seductively.

“Mmm, baby. You spoil me, but I need to pee, and our campmates are probably waiting for us,” she breathed.

Astarion curled his fingers and pressed his thumb to her clit. Nym whined and he pulled out. 

“Ah, yes, of course. The campmates.” He frowned. 

He grabbed a nearby cloth and poured a splash of water on it with a glass bottle. He wiped Nym down thoughtfully before moving on to himself. 

“Thanks, Astarion.” She purred his name and rolled over onto her side before getting up to stand. She went to open the tent flap, and Astarion eyed her in shock. 

Is she about to just walk out of the tent naked? 

She hunched out of Astarion’s tent and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. Her stance exuded confidence and power. Before her naked form sat the cleric and the wizard, who was fixing breakfast at the fire. 

“Ah, good morning! What’s for breakfast?”

The cleric glanced at her, her eyes scrunched from the sunlight, and she sat atop her knees which pointed toward the fire. 

“Well, you certainly look comfortable,” Shadowheart observed.

The wizard was attentively working with a cookpot. “Good morn-” he began. He then cocked his head back and bore witness to Nym's bare skin for only a quick moment before darting his face away in shock, unable to finish his sentence. Gale’s face turned beet-red as he forced his wide eyes to stare back at his cookpot where the food had begun to burn.

Nym, however, seemed to not notice his intense reaction to seeing her nude body. “The food is burning, I think.”

And indeed it was. 

“Right, yes! Sorry about that. It’ll be done soon, so if you want to get ready to eat, that would be splendid!” He spoke louder than he intended to without taking his eyes off the food, stirring it to cook it more evenly and not burn it further.

“Yes! I am starving. Be right back,” she said giddily. She pranced to the woods to pee and collect her clothes. She held them under her arm as she walked to the beach. Nym dropped her clothes on the shore and then quickly walked into the water, trailing bubbles behind her. 

She was waist-deep when she sunk herself fully into the water, arms first. Her bum peaked out of the water as she made her way under. She swam underwater into the calm patch of the river and then busted through the surface with a gasp.

All the while, Astarion got his clothes on and gathered his things for the day. Normally, he would have scrubbed himself raw after bedding someone, but he wasn’t as anxious to get clean after sex with Nym. In stark contrast to his “partners” before, if you could even call them that, Nym didn’t make him feel dirty - she made him feel wanted and special. 

Astarion threw on some camp clothes for the time being and then made his way out of his tent.  

“Ah, number two.” Shadowheart looked amused as ever. She sat on her bottom with her palms in the earth behind her, seeming very relaxed. 

Gale was plating their food onto four plates.

“None for me, thanks.” 

“Alright, and are you as naked as our other friend?” Gale avoided looking back at Astarion.

“No, no. I’m not as comfortable in the nude around strangers as our dear Nym.” 

Gale finally glanced back at Astarion. “So, have you two known each other for a while then, previously to this? That’s not the impression I got when I first met you.” Gale looked back at the food, and he made sure it was distributed evenly across 3 plates.

Astarion clicked his tongue. “Oh, no. We just met yesterday, same as you.” This wizard is being awfully nosey, Astarion thought. He held his tongue for now, and strode to the water to join Nym. 

He shed his layers, folding his clothes on a rock. He brought a towel and placed it beside where his clothes were. Astarion hesitantly waded into the water, fearing that the tadpole did not also protect him from running water as it had protected him from the sun. It was the first time his skin had touched river water since he was turned, but it wasn’t painful. He took small and careful strides into the body of water until his chest was fully submerged.

The water was warm. But not as warm as Nym, he reflected. Then, a small seed of stress was planted in his stomach. Where is Nym? 

He looked around, searching and shielding his eyes from the sun with his hand. Nym was up the river, holding a medium-sized fish in her hand and squatting atop some rocks by more shallow water. Her hair was wet and her toes scrunched and held onto the rock like a monkey. She carefully stood up and strode across the river rocks. 

She is truly, and very unapologetically, odd. he pondered, causing him to giggle. 

She nudely stalked the side of the river, fish in hand. Nym was trekking back to camp again with no concept of modesty. Hilariously ludicrous.

Nym walked back to the fire where Gale and Shadowheart were eating. She held out the fish to Gale, who was scarfing down his breakfast.

Gale peered up to Nym and immediately started a coughing fit as he choked on his food. He looked away and started thumping his chest with his fist.

Nym shrugged and then offered the fish to Shadowheart. 

“He’s the cook, and I’m eating, so you can just put it in that basket.” Shadowheart chuckled inwardly.

“Fine but it will have to be cooked soon or else it will go off.” She tossed the flopping fish into the basket and then stalked back to the beach to put her clothes on. 

When she got there, Astarion was drying off his hair with a towel and he was wearing nothing but his bottoms. 

“Hey! Do you feel fresh?” She smiled with her eyes.

“Yes, and did you get all cleaned up as well?” He smirked and pulled his shirt over his head. 

“Hmm - yeah, but I think I need to take a potion. I really enjoyed myself with you, but I am so sore,” she stated as she started putting her garments on, one by one.

Astarion recalled feeling the same way before. Torturous. “You can help yourself to any of the health potions in my pack if you wish.”

“Aw, really? Thanks! You’re the best!” she bubbled excitedly as she pulled her shirt over her torso.

They journeyed back to the fire together. When they arrived, Gale was organizing the camp supplies and Shadowheart had left for her tent. 

“We’re back, wearing clothes!” Astarion chanted sarcastically.

“Oh, wonderful,” he huffed, rolling his eyes. “Here, Nym, your breakfast.”

“Oh! Thanks so much!” She walked over to grab her plate of food and then went to sit on the ground across from him. Astarion was still patting and fussing with his hair behind her. She stared eagerly scarfing down her food. 

“Mm, sho good.” She covered her full mouth as she spoke.

“Thank you - I aim to please,” Gale said dryly. “So, you two caused quite the ruckus last night and, ahem,” he said, clearing his throat, “this morning.”

Nym swallowed her food and then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She placed her plate down beside her and then got onto her hands and knees. 

Gale watched her as she slowly crawled towards him. His eyes were wide and he leaned back onto his palms. His body tensed as she crept her hands on either side of his lap.

Astarion looked up and watched Nym inquisitively with his brows canted downwards. He was holding the towel in his hand, frozen and staring at the druid.

Gale looked stiff and uncomfortable, but his face was blushing red. Nym's face was inches from his chest when she inhaled his aura deeply, taking in his scent.

She sat back on her heels and pushed her hair behind her ears. “You can join us tonight, if you want,” she said, sounding sure of herself.

“What?!” Both men yelped in sync.

Astarion’s undead heart stopped momentarily. He knew that he had no ownership of Nym, but the thought of her fucking someone else sent his mind into chaos, his whole body tensed up.

Gale’s length started straining in his pants as he blushed with a dumbfounded expression. 

Nym looked back at Astarion, puzzled. “Oh, I’m sorry. I just thought -” She hung her head, trying to decide what to say next. “I thought everyone would be happy.”

She stood up and glared at Astarion. Her face was going red, and her eyes were glossy. She clenched her fists and took a power stance, similar to the one she had done earlier. 

The sky was grey and cloudy, and the wind smelt metallic.

Nym burst into tears and stormed away into her empty tent, sobbing while she walked.

Astarion and Gale shared a glance before Astarion huffed and then followed Nym. 

When he got to Nym's tent, she was curled in the fetal position, sniffing with tear-wetted cheeks. She was rocking herself back and forth and gripping at her legs so intensely that it was leaving red marks that would surely bruise.

“Nym, I -” Astarion stood in the entryway of her tent, holding the flap up. “What’s just happened? Can we talk about it?”

“Mhm.” She sniffled and hugged her legs tighter.

Astarion felt a few drops of rain on his back before climbing into Nym's tent. He sat cross-legged across from her, his hands folded neatly in his lap. “Okay, I’m listening.”

Nym took a deep breath and then slid her feet to uncollapse her legs. She instead grasped her hands together under her thighs.

“I’m not used to this. Being a leader, and these different customs. Where I’m from, love is shared freely; one would be bullied if they ever expressed feelings of jealousy or possessiveness.” She grasped her scalp with both hands and hung her head down. 

“I see.” Astarion glanced away in thought. “Well, I’m certainly not jealous of Gale.” 

“Oh, well, that’s good - but you looked hurt,” Nym sobbed.

The rain started to trickle down on the tent walls. Nym tugged her thighs and gazed up at the roof of her tent. 

“I’m - fine.” Astarion strained his words. He knew he didn’t own her, and that they had just met, but it was in the nature of a vampire to be possessive. He felt stupid having not guessed that the wood elf would be promiscuous and it tore at him, profoundly. He knew that there was nothing inherently wrong with promiscuity, but the idea of claiming Nym as his own personal pet made his thoughts twist. 

He crawled over to Nym, and she rested the backs of her knees. He climbed onto her, and kissed her deeply, nudging her body down with the force of his lips. 

In Nym's tent, there were no blankets or pillows; they had all been sequestered into Astarion’s tent. So Nym lay back on the hard ground, and shifted uncomfortably. 

Astarion was perceptive of this through their kiss, so he broke the kiss, scooped her and rolled onto his back so that she could, at least, rest on him.

He was so tender and soft. Nym snuggled her head down to his chest and she closed her eyes. She sighed and nestled into his pectorals. 

Astarion gently caressed her head, petting down her hair. 

In one ear, she heard the peaceful pattering of raindrops above her. In the other ear, Astarion’s heartbeat. 

Astarion pondered the idea of sharing Nym with Gale. Could he even get her off? Probably not. If she did fuck Gale, maybe she would realize how unsatisfying of a lover he surely is. She would never want to do it again and then I could keep her all to myself.

But then he pictured Gale’s cock inside her, where he had been just this morning. Certainly, the wizard would not be missed if his blood were to be shed. Astarion fantasized about murdering Gale. It might just be worth it if he can claim Nym.

But what must he do to truly claim her? After all, he’s already bitten her, fucked her, kissed her, held her - what more could she want? What did Gale have that he didn’t? 

The neediness of having to feed.  He thought. Gale won’t take anything from her as I do, well, except for maybe her time that would be wasted while he fails to make her so much as whimper. Pathetic.

Astarion’s head flooded with ideas of who Gale was, and it made him chuckle under his breath, rousing Nym slightly with the vibration of his chest. 

Nym huffed and then snuggled into him tighter. 

The large part of the day still lay ahead of them, as well as a multitude of unknowns - the solution to their tadpole’ed predicament, the events of the day, where they would camp next - but of one thing, Astarion was certain. 

He added one more simple plan to his short list, then; to make Nym, the promiscuous wood-elf, solely and utterly his. 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Notes: autism be damned, that woman can catch a fish

Read Chapter 3

[delopsia]

What about lewis's characters as cam boys? 🍑

Now, this is a real find 👀alright, it'll be good for the economy Contains: Rhett Abbott, Bob Floyd, Miles Miller, Jordan Weaver, Harrison Knott and Major Major

Rhett is the biggest slut on the site. He's best known for riding his favorite toys in an empty pasture or hurriedly fisting his cock in the front seat of his truck, but he's not above taking requests or playing with sponsored toys in his bedroom. He's the most active out of the bunch, taking advantage of his high sex drive to entertain everybody.

Aaaalways has that damn cowboy hat on; it's very rare to see him without it, and those chaps?? Fan favorite. He's been known to play up the whole cowboy thing, intentionally using Western slang, and he's practically trademarked the concept of riding toys/pretending his fleshlight is someone riding him.

Sometimes, if he's feeling horny and adventurous, he'll even ask his partner to come in and dominate him. Those are always a hell of an experience. You're the one that controls what they see of you, Rhett leaves those reins in your hands in your hands alone. If you want to hide yourself, then that's okay with him, but if you want your face right next to his, then have at it! He's thrilled to let everyone know what's his and who he belongs to.

Bob only films while wearing a little black mask. Everyone thought he was being quirky during the pandemic, but he simply can't film without it. His viewers can always tell when he's enjoying himself because those wireframes perched on his nose start getting all foggy. Stutters when he reads the live chat and visibly becomes red when someone suggests something even remotely dirty.

He's very, very vanilla, prefers to entertain folks who want to see him play with his cock, but every once in a blue moon, he'll treat everyone to the sight of him fucking himself on a thick toy. Always uses the fleshy/realistic ones, determined to make it look as real as he can get it. He plays into viewer requests very easily, if he sees someone ask him to reach down and play with his balls, then hey, that's what he's doing!

He'll let his partner join in if they want to, but it 1) takes him forever to tell you about this particular career choice (he's mortified about putting it into words) and 2) his viewers aren't going to see very much of you. Like he doesn't want them to see anything more than your hand on his cock; he's possessive like that.

Miles? The sweetest thing to ever grace a camera. Thigh-high stockings, plaid skirts, pastel pink and baby blue toys. He loves feeling comfy and cozy when he's intimate; everything has to be perfect and fit his chosen aesthetic! Such high production value for a man who's too shy to look into a camera. Please don't ask him to read the chat; he'll burn into oblivion.

Probably one of the most vocal out of the bunch. He doesn't say a whole lot, but he'll lay there in his bed, whimpering and mewling like it's the last thing he'll ever do. Is also very well known for how shaky he can get when he's close; it's such an obvious tell that his audience can guess when he'll cum.

He starts out solo, but it very quickly becomes something that Miles likes doing with his partner. He's just a little guy; please fuck his poor little ass until he's begging you to stop, spank him, ride him to the point of tears streaming down his pretty face, spit on him, pull his hair, and make him say something dirty to the viewers.

Jordan puts on a show. Like he's the only one of the boys who is gonna twirl himself around on a pole and put on a little performance before the fun starts. Has been known for the occasional workout tease live stream and fucking a toy in the bathroom after. He's got the widest variety of toys, fantasy dildos, fucking machines, brightly colored cock sleeves. Jordan is the guy to try anything and everything at least once.

He intentionally plays himself off as a dumb, air-headed twenty-something, and that makes it very easy to lure in donations. Some folks think they're paying enough to pressure or trick him into doing something they want, but they don't realize they're playing right into his hand.

Jordan is also the most on and off about letting you come on camera with him. Some days he wants to hide you from their greedy eyes, some he doesn't care, but he also loves having the spotlight on himself. It's a conflicting thing, but if you really want to join, then all you've got to do is remind him of the spike in donations that come in when he's got someone else to play with.

Harrison is...truly something. He knows that his viewers are there to oggle at his body, and he plays into that a lot. Tight-fitting clothes, filming right after a workout when he knows his muscles are still hot and swollen. He's even got an Amazon wishlist full of stuff that his viewers send him to wear.

Like Bob, he's got a preference to focus on his cock and occasionally his nipples, but sometimes he'll get into a mood where he'll finger himself while he jerks his cock in that big fist of his. Whatever he's doing, he's always in lighting and angles that compliment his build, biting his lip and looking into the camera like he's beckoning the viewer to come and do whatever they please to him.

If you're on camera with him, then he isn't even paying attention to the viewers. He. Does. Not. Care. What. They. Want, he cares about what you're doing, and that's it. Probably the most intimate out of all of them, fucking you exactly how he would in private or even letting you take control and split him open on that pink dildo that's been sitting in the corner of all his videos...did you know that he kicks his left leg when he's getting fucked?

Major Major is the biggest tease known to man. Strips for certain donation goals, says he'll use a certain toy when they hit a marker, but then turns around and entirely forgets once he gets there. He's a frustrating little guy, but he's got a charm to him that keeps reeling new folks in.

When he does follow through with it, it's a sight to behold, though. He babbles so much, regardless of what he's doing; his viewers got him to climb in his car's backseat and fuck his ass on a toy once, and it was on the front page for weeks. Mindlessly yammering about how worried he was that someone would see him, how this was a bad idea, but oh, oh, that feels good.

You know what it is he's doing, but if you want to join, then you'll have to ask because he practically forgets about it the moment the livestream ends. His content doesn't really change; he's still just as babbly, except this time, he has someone who will talk back to him and give him a bigger reason to ramble.

[dangerliesbeforeyou]

ok so ive been rewatching psychoville and saw on the wikipedia that there were a bunch of websites made for the series (they were all written by reece and steve btw) which i've been looking through cos they are genuinely SO fucking funny & also just amazingly creative lol!

anyway i know people in the fandom probs already know about this (since the show came out literally 15 years ago pfft) but i thought i'd share some of my fav bits (but honestly would just recommend just checking them out if you haven't i have been crying with laughter for literally hours lol)

i will say that a lot of the media (videos, games, etc) no longer work on the archived sites rip but i'm sure people have uploaded some of the stuff (vids especially) to yt or other places lol

so a) i love that we get some background stuff on jelly and 2) 'captain CRACKERS' bernie clifton's dressing room reference question mark ??????? (ofc bcdr was AFTER this but i know love the idea that mr jelly trained under len pfft)

what that red raw stump do though 👀 (sorry pfffft)

mr jolly's website wasn't that interesting soz tho i did like him comparing being a doctor to being a clown lol

the comment about fag bears did make me wheeze i'm afraid lol i also loved the blurry photos of lomax's commodities lol (kinda reminded me of the bit in tlog w/ that terrible old photographer guy lol)

when i tell you i DIED with laughter at the 'now known as hull' bit like u just know reece wrote that bit pfft

not really a funny thing but this poem written by david honestly kinda breaks my heart lol... i think it also a lot of additional context to david's guilt when he thought he'd killed his father(faver) because perhaps he felt guilty about NOT feeling guilty you get me? like, it felt to me that when maureen told david it was SHE who killed her husband, it didn't feel like he was mad at her for doing it, but more that she kept the fact from him. it's about... the mutual oedipus-coded obsession with one another that couldn't even be destroyed in death and in this essay i will....

ghoul_lass23 is just like me but about tumblr lol fr

nothing feels more cursed than the phrases 'the river minge has burst its banks', 'crying creamy tears' and 'fleshy rapunzel' (which i've just noticed they misspelt lol... don't think that was intentional lol?) so if i had to read this so do you <3

the way that i kinda wish this actually existed tho pfft... also, it does kinda remind me of that video where jenny nicholson talked about that insane reality show 'opposite worlds' lol

'cross between seven and glee' is honestly sending me pfft

also on this part there was a script from stinkfinger (which is a show mentioned on the show) which sounded suspiciously like a reference to tlc lol

the less said about swastknickers the better

(will say i did nearly piss myself laughing at the nazi section of the hoity toity website lol which wasn't a sentence i thought i'd type today lol)

i just love these kinds of jokes pfft

also the whole biography sections of each of the pantomime cast are fab lol tho i AM kinda pissed they made debbie from yeovil and yet didn't give her a west country accent lol!!! (i guess they thought it'd be a bit much w/ joy being bristolian but i'm still mad about it lol)

also i know people have probably already pointed this out but i do find it funny that brian in the in9 episode last night of the proms is a closeted gay guy who likes watching drag was probably a reference to brian in this show that was a drag queen like... is anything these guys do NOT a reference??? u know those gaylor fans who obsessively look for clues in her songs about her apparent secret sexuality? all i'm saying is that i think they'd really like the extended reece shearsmith & steve pemberton universe pfft

all three of these made me cry with laughter lol

ohh this is interesting lol so obviously they suspected that some people might be all 'um why didn't the sprinklers go off during the fire at ravenhill? plot hole much!' so they wrote this into one of the websites so they could be like SEE! WE'RE ONE STEP AHEAD OF YOU DUMBASSES lol

both the jeremy kyle reference (remember when that was a thing? yikes... my mum used to watch his show CONSTANTLY...) and nurse kenshington's thoughts on david and maureen are interesting lol.. also there's a reference to the serial killer top trumps in this bit lol! (do people still play top trumps?? man i LOVED top trumps lol...)

the entire sunnyvale care home section is so fucking funny (both the website AND in the show lol mrs wren/mrs ladybird face is unironically probably my favourite character on the entire show) these were just some of my fav gags lol...

ok but why is this the SECOND reference to a guy punching a child who was apparently looking at his dick lol!??!! did this happen to one of you ??!!?!? reece did you punch a child ??!???!?!??

&&&& that's it lol

there were a few websites i didn't spend long on or generally weren't that interesting (coughmidgetgemscough) but honestly? i was really captivated with just how funny and well put together all these sites were! you can tell they had a lot of fun making it and i'm sure fans at the time LOVED being able to have this semi-interactive element of the show lol

there was just something so wonderfully late 00's about these websites lol i genuinely don't think i've laughed this much at anything in literal months and all of this is just solidifies that psychoville is a criminally under-appreciated masterpiece lol

[dfortrafalgar]

I'm Losing You

Having a family isn't always as easy as fairy tales make it seem.

Warnings: Read chapter 1 for warnings. This story is over halfway done now!

Taglist: @phsycochan | @mirillua | @augustanna | @chaixsherlock

Chapter 17

[Prev] [Next]

It had taken about five hours for your body to fully pass the miscarriage, and during that time you were transferred into a more private room in the emergency wing where a labor and delivery doctor from the hospital’s maternity ward assisted with the pain management.  Not like you were psychologically there, and neither was Law.  You had repeated your behavior from previously, your mind’s go-to defense mechanism being to completely shut down, forcing your eyes closed in a feeble attempt to crawl out of your skin and escape reality.  The reality being you, sitting on a toilet in the tiny bathroom of the private room, a bedpan under your body and the L&D doctor, who you wouldn’t speak to, occasionally offering shallow words of support as you hunched in pain with each agonizing cramp that washed through you.  Law kept his eyes trained on your face the entire time, every exhausted contortion of your muscles as ripples of cramps waved through you throughout the seemingly endless seconds of your time in the private room.

When Law saw it, what had left your body, his lunch evacuated from his stomach into the nearest garbage can.  Maybe it was the way it looked, or the fact that the doctor from L&D was holding it in a cold metal bedpan of all things, or maybe the stress of it all finally caught up to the jaded heart surgeon and he settled it by losing his stomach contents.  You didn’t look at it, keeping your eyes closed, desperately wishing to be in your bed at home.

It was clearly going to be a human.  All of the early human-like traits were there.  Two arms, two legs, a head, a body, but it was still so far away from actually being a person.  It barely had what could be called skin, if anything its external appearance seemed more like a glass frog, only a fleshy red color and not green.  That is to say, Law could see the beginnings of organs inside the shape that rested in the chamber pot.

Law started to judge the gravity of calling the fetus an ‘it.’  The doctor holding the bedpan said it was going to be a boy, based on what she called the ‘Nub Theory,’ and was about 12 weeks along, before she cleaned you up and took the almost-boy away to be discarded somehow.  Law’s mind flashed back to the young boy in the CICU who had passed away a few months ago, and the mother who was so distraught that she left Law with a bruise that took two full weeks to fully heal.

He wondered if you cried like that in the ambulance when he wasn’t there to help you.

He wondered if you would’ve hit him, too.  No… you would never.  Not even in your most distraught, vulnerable state would you do that.

Law felt his stomach twist once more for even thinking about you in such a way.

But when he looked at the almost-human in the bedpan, he had to remind himself that the fetus was yours.  That would have been your son.  That would have been his son.

And the actions of that mother in the cardiac ward, hearing her son pass away surrounded by nurses, her screams of agony and despair at having to go home without her little boy, suddenly made a lot more sense to Law.

And for the first time since the two of you had started trying for a baby, he started questioning if he was really meant to be a father.

—

“Give me everything that happened,” Law’s pointed glare and monotone words spoke volumes to Ikkaku and Shachi who sat uncomfortably across the small table in the hospital’s cafeteria.  Robin had arrived after her clinic closed to assess your condition, and Law took the brief opportunity to get the details from the two that were with you before he arrived.

“We were eating lunch outside, the group of us,” Ikkaku started.  “Throughout the day she seemed like she was in more pain than usual, but during lunch it seemed to be getting pretty bad.  She went inside to use the bathroom and apparently fainted in the reception area of the office.  We all came back inside when some of our other coworkers were trying to get her to come to, and she started bleeding heavily so we finally called an ambulance.  I tried to call your phone but it went right to voicemail, so I called Shachi to meet us here.”

Law’s posture was eerily still.  “How was the ambulance ride over?”

Ikkaku was clearly growing uncomfortable under the scrutinizing gaze of her best friend’s husband, but she mustered through her discontent and continued to relay her recent memories.  “She woke up when the ambulance got there, and I think she saw the blood in her pants and started to have a panic attack.  She was refusing to go with the paramedics so they… kinda… manhandled her onto the stretcher.  She was screaming and trying to get away so they tied her down.”  The curly-haired woman used her hands to display a crude image of what she was seeing in her head.  “They strapped down her legs and arms and put her neck in one of those plastic brace things to keep her still, and all of that was before the ambulance even left the parking lot.  She couldn’t even move in the ambulance, but they took off all of her jewelry because they were ‘concerned for her safety.’  I said they were stupid, and they told me to watch my language.”

The black-haired man’s teeth ground against each other in his mouth as he remembered a similar retelling from one of the nurses in your room, the excuse for your wedding ring being missing being out of caution for yourself.  Clearly, the situation was a bit more nuanced, but he didn’t wish to strike up some form of argument with his close friends right now.  Thankfully, your wedding ring had been returned to him a few minutes before you were wheeled to the private room, and was tucked safely in the pocket of Law’s slacks.

Shachi piped up, keeping his voice low.  “When I got here she was still crying and screaming, there was a nurse that came up to her on the stretcher and put her hand over her mouth and told her to be quiet.  I honestly wanted to slap her for that.  I mean, what kind of nurse tells a crying woman to shut up?”

An understandable question indeed.  Law ran an incredibly tight ship in his cardiac ward, with his nurses and fellow doctors being well-rounded individuals who worked incredibly under the high pressure environments in and out of the operating room, and based on what Law had seen and heard throughout the afternoon, he was starting to wonder if his was the only department that behaved somewhat normally.

“Sorry for calling in the middle of a surgery, by the way,” mumbled Shachi, awkwardly rubbing his hand on the back of his neck.  

“Don’t be, you couldn’t have known,” Law replied, his own voice low and pensive.

“Law, are you okay?” Ikkaku asked, reaching her hand across the table and giving a friendly pat to the doctor’s forearm which lay across his side of the table.

The man bowed his head, hiding his clearly bloodshot and exhausted eyes behind the feathery wisps of his black hair.  He could feel his mouth growing dryer by the second, his nose still sore from wiping away the snot caused by his crying, his lips dry and chapped with the way he gnawed on them in the failed attempt to keep his sobs at bay.

“No, I’m not,” was all he said.

Ikkaku and Shachi shared nervous, anxious glances with one another.

The redhead reached his own hand forward now, tapping it gently against the surface of the table in Law’s field of vision.  “Do you want us to bring you anything?  Snacks… water… something to read…”

“No thank you, but if you could go and check on Bepo that would be great,” Law muttered, turning down his friend’s offer faster than he probably should’ve.  “Thank you guys for telling me everything, I’m going to go back to her room.”  He turned his back on his two concerned friends before they had the chance to muster out their goodbyes, hoping that he could hide his face once more to quell the oncoming tears that threatened to fall for a second time.

Law hated crying.  He always hated crying.  Crying left him feeling more exhausted than a 12 hour surgery.  Crying left him feeling weak and defeated, like a dehydrated, shriveling plant that gets left to deteriorate on a scorching windowsill.  Throughout his entire life, he had only truly cried a total of three times.  Once when he lost his family in their house fire.  Twice when his adoptive father figure was murdered before his very eyes.

And three times today, weeping over your form over the baby that was lost.  Again.

The hallways of the main corridor were uncharacteristically empty as Law’s feet dragged his fatigued body down the tiled hallways, his shoes scuffing the floor with each labored step.  He fought desperately to control his breathing, his lungs feeling like they were filling with water, his body fighting for life.  How pathetic he was.  You were the one in pain.  You were the one losing the baby.  So why was he getting so worked up?  Why was he letting himself fall?

In sickness and in health.

“FUCK,” Law lost control of his vocal chords as he shouted into the empty hallway, the only witness to his outburst being the LED lights on the ceiling, illuminating his shame.  He hadn’t consciously registered the way his body contorted, his hand balling into a fist as he drove his limb into the wall next to him, the force of the blow making him grimace.  A sizable dent was left where his knuckles had impacted the drywall, blood beginning to seep from the skin of his tattooed fingers as he let his knees buckle and send him to the floor.  He slumped against the wall, gazing at the back of his hand.

D  E  A  T  H

Law was an edgy undergraduate.  He funneled his trauma, his insecurity, his distaste for life into his studies, drowning himself in textbooks and medical demonstrations, filling the blank spaces in his psyche with music that shared the same disdain for the world as he did.  He littered his skin with marks that spoke to him, the marks of his family and the marks of death.  He didn’t care if the tattoos on his fingers gave him less chances of getting into medical school, he did what felt was right.  He had escaped death more times than a kid ever should have, and the ink in his skin was a testament to that.

You had poked fun at the symbolism on the day you first met him.  A doctor with the word ‘DEATH’ written on his hands was an ironically funny image.  You had said something along the lines of, “I think I would trust my doctor more if he had ‘DEATH’ on his hands.  At least it would make more sense if he happened to kill me.”

Law had scoffed at that.  His tattoos were nothing to joke about.  But he came back to you because of the smile that rested on your lips as you laughed, the way the skin around your eyes creased with your happiness.  You were a magnet pulling him into your embrace.  Suddenly, the blank spaces in his mind previously filled with depressing music were filled with the image of you.  Your smile, your eyes, your bubbly giggle, the alluring smell of your perfume, the way you filled every room with light, the way you brought joy to the lives of your friends, your nerdy talks, your voice as you sang along to his music in the passenger seat of his car…

Hot tears plopped onto the tiled floor, some hitting the skin of his knuckles, making the bleeding wounds sting with the foreign contact as Law remained slumped against the wall, staring blankly at his hands as the wounds on his fist continued to ooze dark red blood.  He missed his mother, his father, his little sister.  He missed the way his mother would wipe his tears away with the sleeve of her shirt, kissing his forehead and ruffling his thick black hair.  He missed the way his sister would cling to him on the playground, relying on her strong older brother for support.  He missed his adoptive dad, the freakishly tall, clumsy, blonde ex-marine reserve who smoked indoors and would leave accidental burn marks on his clothes.  He missed the way his dad would pick Law up like he was weightless, singing praises to the child’s accomplishments, even the most menial.  Law always told you how he wished his family could have met you, how they easily would have adored you for everything you brought into his previously dark life.  He wondered what his family would say to him now, as he sat on the cold floor of the hospital’s main campus, alone, bleeding from his hand.

“They’d be proud of you.”

Law’s golden eyes opened at the sound of the voice coming from in front of him.  Shachi was crouched directly in front of him, a soft smile gracing his crooked mouth as he used his shoulder to support himself against the wall in front of his friend.

“I know you.  You’re thinking about Cora and your family, aren’t you?” he asked, retaining his cheeky personality but flooding his words with an air of unabashed kindness.

Behind him, Ikkaku stood, her own eyes welling with overwhelmed tears, but standing and blocking Law from the lights that shone down on his defeated form.  She too had a small smile on her lips.

Shachi moved to stand upright, grabbing Law’s arm and hauling the taller man to his feet.  Law barely stepped forward to pull his friend into a back-breaking hug, releasing everything he was bottling up into the shoulder of his best friend.  Shachi’s arms supported Law, hugging the man back and squeezing him with the might only a life-long friend could have.  

“You’re doing great, Law,” the redhead whispered.

Nobody spoke a word as the two led the doctor back to your room in the emergency ward.  Law’s tears continued to fall, his hand finally clotting.  

When he rounded the corner of your room, you were standing upright, your body wrapped in a fabric hospital gown, your own cheeks puffy with the force of your own crying.  Robin was supporting your arm as you were about to lay back down on the bed, but as you witnessed Law enter your room once more, supported by your two best friends, you pushed past your doctor and threw yourself into the waiting arms of your husband.  His hands circled around you, your personal shield, your knight, holding you against his trembling body as his tears fell into your hair, as his head dipped down to hide in your shoulder and as your own face buried into the crevice of his neck, your unending tears soaking his shirt.  The world vanished around the two of you as you stood in his embrace.

[jadedxhearts]

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 #𝟐

Headcanons about Law having a fixation on your breasts.

Warnings: smut, fem reader

Originally Written May 17th, 2023

I know generally whenever people ask “what do you think Law’s favorite body part on his s/o is” the answer is usually thighs or hands…. However…. Hear me out… Law with a boob fixation (that felt so stupid to type lol)

But anyway.. like…. If you’re alone with him, sitting in his lap or laying in bed with him, he just like… gently grabs one, holds it or kinda runs his thumb around it. But then he just gets worse.

They’d become like fleshy stress balls to him, but he’d never be harsh, no. He’d start with just holding it to squishing it and squeezing occasionally. Then they turn into his pillows. He lays his head on your soft mounds, actually getting some sleep for once as he listens to your heartbeat.

And I’m only adding this since it’s more relatable for me, but: if you had larger breasts? He’d only be a thousand times worse. More space to grab onto, more skin to squish between his tattooed fingers. More plushness for laying his head on. He’d then start holding them in his hands before letting them drop, absolutely mesmerized by the way they bounce.

He’d suddenly act different whenever you wore tighter shirts; others may not notice it, but Law can find every line in the shape of them, where they curve at the bottom and where exactly your sensitive buds would be. And if he can see the outline of your nipples through your shirt? He’d go feral.

If you did that, he’d also tease you for it, discreetly putting a hand around one side of your chest when nobody’s looking, and he pinches and pulls at your nipples, quickly pulling his hands away so you’d be left desperate eventually.

He’d absolutely love it when you ride him, being able to watch as they bounce with every little jump you make with your hips. He’d especially love when he grabs your hips and slams you down onto him, and they bounce around with more force than before. If he’s the one above you, he’ll have you on your back, chest completely exposed to him as they jiggle with every thrust of his cock. He’ll bury his face in them when he cums, his breath hot and wet against the soft skin as he regains his composure.

Which then brings me to my last two points: sucking on them and shoving his cock between them. The first time he buries his face into them while cumming, he accidentally falls in a way that his mouth lands over your nipple, and they get brushed with his wet lips. You let out a different kind of moan, raising your chest as you do so to try and get his mouth back on you. From then on, he’ll become obsessed with sucking on your breasts. Whether it’s teasingly flicking your nipples with his tongue before sucking on them, or softly biting into the skin and marking your breasts. He loves to see the way they’re left so red and wet, covered in his love bites as your nipples look painfully abused, but in reality, it feels amazing to you.

Now… before I get to the titty-fucking, I have a weird ass fun fact to go along with the sucking. Supposedly, if someone sucks on a woman’s breasts regularly enough, they can start producing milk… now I don’t know how true it is but I’ve seen it in random posts before (one I can specifically remember was a Reddit AITA where the girl was like “AITA for not wanting my boyfriend to suck my nipples anymore after they started producing milk?” 💀) but ANYWAY…. If that did happen, it would only drive Law more feral.

And now with that weird ass bit being out of the way, my last point: There’s two ways to go about fucking his cock between your breasts. One way is for you to be laid on your back, with him kneeling above your torso as he lowers his hips into them, forcing you to keep them squished together with your hands while he thrusts into them, and he ends up cumming a little too quickly the first time he tries this. The way his seed lands on your lips and (if he moves away quickly enough) all over your soft chest, is enough to make him want to go for another round of using your breasts to get himself off.

The other way is for him to be sat in a chair with you on your knees, your chest leaning into him as you hold his cock between them, bouncing on your ankles to jerk him, kissing his tip or giving him kitten licks with every thrust upward. This way, he can thrust up into your lips and you’ll gladly take him into your mouth, swallowing everything he has to offer.

So… anyway… I got carried away which probably says a lot more about how I feel about it rather than what I think Law would feel 😭 but is it so wrong to just want Law’s tattooed fingers pinching and pulling on them, groping them whenever he can??

[hydr0phius-art]

Painting Chiss Skin

Before I start this, I’m just going to say that I attempted to do an in depth version of this part and then stopped and did dot points because it was too overwhelming. 

A lot of what’s in here can be applied to different body parts. Some of it may also be applied to traditional art, but most of this is for digital art. This post focuses on faces. Eyes and scars will be another post that'll hopefully follow this one relatively quickly.

Picking colours (and some other tips)

> Experimenting is good!

> There’s blood beneath skin and it’s going to show through at different intensities based on what your lighting is doing. I’m assuming Chiss blood is red, so I usually make any blush on my Chiss purple. (Red + blue = purple. Basic colour mixing thingz, you know?)

> The fairer the Chiss’ skin is, the more vibrant you can be with that purple blush in my opinion.

> Temperature, colour, and intensity of light determines what the skin looks like. 

> Having black shadows on a coloured artwork is a good way to flatten the whole piece; when I paint shadows on a Chiss face, I go for a dark blue or purple and blend it with what’s already on the canvas. Playing with layers and their opacity function is also good.

> Laying down a base blue before starting with the rest of the colours is good. You can see that I did that in the speedpaint I’ve attached to the end of this post.

> This website about colour zones will help.

> This website about colour blocking will also help.

References

> I find a face reference of an actor I want to Chiss-ify. Then I have my blue skin reference, which is usually one of the Na’vi from Avatar.  

> I use the Na’vi because there’s a lot of images available with variation with temperature of light and quality of light to observe. 

> Make note of the colours that appear in their flesh as light interacts with it. 

> Warm light will have pink that transitions to purple, then to blue as shadow starts to come back in. I’ve put Ar’alani next to the reference I took inspiration from (link here) for comparison.

> You want to go and paint your reference as it is, except blue. When you get to adding highlights and shadows, look at the Na’vi image and see what colours appear in that light. 

I think that’s pretty much all I do when I paint Chiss. Here’s a speedpaint of Thrawn with Lee Pace as a face claim if that helps somewhat :3

(Ignore how I erased his uniform; I could NOT be bothered with that sorry).

Also, Here are some artworks that helped me when I was figuring this out. I’ve done a bit of analysis that might or might not be helpful. Take what you like from it.

Magali Villeneuve

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A post shared by Magali Villeneuve (@magali_villeneuve)

In my opinion, Villeneuve’s Thrawn portraits are the best official artworks of him that we have right now. They’re my main go-to for inspiration. The lighting plays across the skin in a way that gives it a fleshy, warm, alive feel. Even the colour zones are present, which gives it that extra bit of depth. If you can’t see them, that’s fine; it takes a bit of time to get used to looking for them.

Rod Reis

The first of Reis’ Alliances cover is also up there with good official Thrawn art we’ve had fairly recently, imo. His style is different to Villeneuve’s, but he follows the same processes with the colour zones and how the skin interacts with the environment around it. The shadows aren’t flat or black; they have colour to them that adds more dimension to the portrait. There’s also that hint of purple-blue blush around his cheeks with more yellowy-blue tones on his forehead and more blue tones around his jaw and chin (again, colour zones are present :3). The light is cooler than Villeneuve’s in the Chaos Rising Portrait, which you can see in the lighter teal hue on the right side of his face. Cool light usually brings out the lighter blue tones in the skin (that’s just what I’ve noticed, though).

And that's it! If anyone has questions, feel free to ask them :3 I'll try and get this eye post out soon <3

[thewisaaaaad]

onward with the au, which I will be calling "sins of the gods", because its both kickass and a major story point.

LAST TIME ON SINS OF THE GODS

kallamar fixed up the lambs body in an attempt to curry favor with his exiled brother, and in doing so discovered Shamuras betrayal. He also forgot about his brunch with his sister.

THIS TIME ON SINS OF THE GODS

"Kallamar. Explain. Now."

Hecket stood at the open door of the operation room, her good mood having turned extreamly sour after glimsing a red crowned head turning to her and greeting her with HER. VOICE.

kalamar tensed, as if he did not know that bringing the red crown, the object of power for the one who hates them the most, the one that lashed out at them, was a bad idea.

another thought occoured to Hecket: shamura said they had the crown under control. and. AND. the accursed lamb, lying before her sniviling brother, had her throat.

the only god she wasn't mad at right now was leshy. she hoped it at least stayed that way.

Kallamar finally opened his wimpering mouth to speak, but what came out, shaky though it was, had some kind of determination behind it.

"shamura has betrayed us. made us turn against our brother for a sin they then committed."

His sister was taken aback, unable to speak at being suddenly confronted with such an immense accusation coming from kallamar. Kallamar. the one who never stood up to anyone stronger than them, accusing their eldest and most trusted sibling of heresy of the highest order.

Heket slowly walked over to where the lamb lay. shure enough, the skin was stiched together with spider silk, the stitches slowly being removed by callamar and replaced with much more comfortable and reliable sutures. the lamb had her little brothers eye, roughly set into the lambs right eye socket. their ears had been replaced with the fleshy flaps of flesh kallamar had called "ears", that while unharmed by Narinders paniked screams little tantrum, he had cut off as solidarity with his siblings injuries, along with being a handy visual reminder to their followers that their god had his goodly eardrums blown out.

the lamb had their throat, Heket didn't need to look for it, nor did she want to: the goats gentle, ribbiting laugh was more than enough proof of its presence.

hekets skull was also present. she could see it in the way that the skin didn't quite sit right on it, or how there were a pair of indents set just behind the eyes, or the claw-shaped indents in their forhead that suddenly reminded her of her brothers last grasp for freedom. it was a desperate grasp, she realised, looking at the clawmarks, remembering how in that moment, Narinder had looked more like a ball of metal than a cat, much less a god.

if what lay before her was true, then there was no victory had that day over death.

they had lost a sibling. and it was her fault she didn't question any of it.

Heket was snapped out of her thoughts by something the lamb had said. something she never thought she would here. something Kallamar never thought he would hear either, given how he broke down into sobs after processing what they said.

"narinder forgives you."

[ray-gt]

A Night at the Quasar Cafe [gtgotcha4gaza]

For: @biggnansmol, @gtgotcha4gaza Prompt: First Date (giant/human) Summary: Sabine Ducote is professionally curious, or at least that's how she likes to describe her work. Part private eye, part bounty hunter, she makes a living dealing in other people's business. But when a favour sends her to a sketchy out-of-quadrant "Boundary Bar" to meet with an informant four times her size, Sabine realises just how dangerous curiosity can be.

CW: side character death, descriptions of minor violence

[ao3]

The Informant

Sabine’s ship communicator flashed a bright red and she didn’t know whether to smile or groan when she saw the ID. She decided on both. She ignored it for a while, focussing on navigating to the jump point, hoping the call would die.

On the back of her neck, the hairs pricked.

Let him wait

But when it began bipping incessantly - angry at being ignored, like a toddler pulling at her pant leg - she finally answered.

“With all this cold calling, Jay, I’m beginning to think you’re sweet on me.”

Jay’s voice erupted with something between a cough, a bark, and a laugh. Sabine could imagine the volcanic ash pouring from his thick, scarred lips, and between his black mandibles, as he sat in his office, looking over the bright lights of Blue Marine, the casino empire he built from nothing to cover an entire moon.

No doubt, there was a Nethulyan cigar between his pincers - Sabine could almost smell the smoke through her ship’s speakers.

“Ah, Saba,” He said with a wheeze. “You know me, can’t be tied down. But if I were to go for one of you gross, fleshy humans, you’re first on my list.”

“Every girl’s dream. Though really, Jay, being first hasn’t exactly done me any favours.”

“The Irixes still on your tail?”

She couldn’t help but tense her fists around the ship controls. She fought every instinct in her begging to turn around, to check no one was sneaking up on her. Rationally, she knew it was impossible for the Irixes to be on her ship, but it didn’t stop the slow wave of goosebumps washing over her skin.

“Yeah, yours isn’t the only list I’m top of.” She muttered, reworking her route to accomodate an approaching comet. “Hugo got life.”

“I heard. Took every lawyer within 20 systems to stop him getting a sunset. Well, that’s the business, ain’t it?” She heard Jay’s mandible’s click together over the line - his equivalent of a mother’s disappointed tut. “Lotta money in the Go’oran trade, but it’s a risky market and the competition’s killer.” This earned another laboured laugh, chuffed at his own joke. “Hugo’s top dog. They’ll be lost without him for a while.”

“And they’re channeling all that loss into finding my arse and roasting it on a spit.”

“Come on, Saba. That’s not their style. They’d much rather spaghettify you in a black hole.”

“Which is why I’m getting as far away from Keridian as I can.”

“This is what happens when you take jobs with the authorities. No protection, no thank you - just a lowballed cheque and lot of enemies. Never met anyone more crooked than a judge, I’ll tell you that much for free.”

“About the only thing you’d do for free.”

“I have something you might like.” His voice peaked in a tease, like a used ship salesmen slapping a claw on a vessel that wouldn’t even reach orbit.

“I’m lying low.”

She knew there was no point hinting with him. It wasn’t that he was daft. He’d pick up a hint, but he’d prefer to crush it between his pretty orange pincers than take it seriously.

“I know, but I’ve always said the best way to get over an old job is to pick up a new one.”

“We’re talking about one of the biggest crime families in the galaxy, Jay, not one of your exes.”

“Eh,” He offered in response, taking a long drag of the cigar. She knew he was rolling his head on his neck, unconvinced. “You want a job.”

“I want quiet.”

“Quiet’s boring. You want something that makes you curious.”

“Isn’t that what kills the cat?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Earth thing.”

“Ah.”

Her navigator flashed, warning her she was approaching the jump point.

“Look, Jay, I’m about to make a jump and I’m not calling you back.”

Jay clicked his mandibles again and voice became unusually sober.

“I need you to take this job, Saba. I don’t trust anyone else. Consider it the Favour.”

Sabine ground her teeth together and veered her ship off-course, pulling out of the high-trafficked bottleneck leading up to the jump point.

Jay wasn’t a good person but, really, neither was she. He was one of her first clients when she entered the trade and they quickly formed a profitable partnership. Sabine was good at getting information and Jay was good at using it. It wasn’t a question of morality - they’d both happily take money from the sinners and the saints - but there was an unspoken honour code to these things. Once you commit to a job, you finish it. And a favour is always repaid.

She put the ship into an idle orbit around a nearby moon and stood up. Pacing, she took groups of her braids and begun weaving them together into one large plait. She couldn’t speak. It was like she’d been caught snitching by the Moth-Ean cartel and had her jaw sealed shut.

“You still there?”

Sabine rubbed her eyebrows.

“I can’t believe you’re calling in the Favour. With the Irixes sending word to every contact in the Quadrant. I’d be surprised if my face wasn’t slapped on every Keridian bounty board available.”

“Stop acting like this is your first time in hot water. You want safe, Saba? I could’ve given you a job working tables at Blue Marine. The Irixes are no worse than the Tooras, or the Solaris Siblings, the Li Party, or any of the other targets you’ve had.”

Sabine sighed and shook her arms in an effort to rid them of the tickling nerves shivering within. He was right. This wasn’t the first time people had tried to intimidate her and stop her from working - if they killed her or chased her off, that’d be a win for them. She had to keep going like they didn’t scare the living shit out of her.

But, there were very few people as deadly as Hugo Irix. It’d taken more time, resources, and personal sacrifice than she’d like to admit to become a trusted member of his circle, learn the key nodes of the Irixes Go’oran trade network, and systematically turn them in with enough evidence to get Hugo a life sentence in maximum security.

The look she’d shared with him as she stepped up to testify….

“What’s the job?”

“There’s my Saba! I was afraid I’d lost her. Don’t worry, compared to Hugo, this is child’s play.”

Sabine doubted that. Knowing Jay, he wouldn’t use the Favour on something simple. He had a better eye for value than that. She didn’t interrupt him though and he kept going.

“And it’s far enough away from Keridian that the Irixes won’t follow you. They have very little presence.”

“Out of Quadrant?”

“Boundary. Have you ever been to the Quasar Cafe?”

***

Sabine approached the Reeka woman from across the adjusted bar, weaving past other mixed size gatherings. As she passed, she heard snippets of conversations, locking any interesting details away in case they became relevant later.

Mostly, the folk who occupied the mixed size bars wanted to keep their business to themselves. It wasn’t illegal, per se, to mix with other species of such varying sizes, but it definitely wasn’t the norm. The hushed chatter of business deals or awkward flirting floated around her like the gentle thrum of a ship engine.

There was the shabby business woman whose eyes never left her cradled glass as a large, brick wall of a Hexigal slid a black bag across the table with his pinky. It would take her both arms to lift it. As it was nudged, the bag squirmed but made no sound.

“As promised.” Grumbled the Hexigal. The woman neither moved nor spoke.

Then there was the over-confident human, teething a martini olive as the reptilian skin of the large Olura (nearly double his height) opposite him shifted from a deep blue to a brilliant chartreuse. A blush if Sabine could hazard a guess. Or, at least, close enough.

Next to the Reeka, a Zidirin (half Sabine’s height) and a Vojuk (5 times and then some) spoke in low tones over a game of mahjong. Seeing the familiar Earth game in a Boundary Bar half a galaxy away almost made her do a double-take. How did it get there? Where’d they learn it?

Despite the sea of curiosities that flooded the bar, the Reeka woman stood out, and not just because she was four times Sabine’s height. Reekas were a colourful and extravagant species. Jaunty, gaudy, vivacious. It was said Reeka weddings often ended in funerals when someone inevitably laughed, drunk, or danced themselves to death.

Sabine had never met one before. The few she’d seen were only in passing as they rarely ventured outside their territory. Her skin was a pale green and her hair a vibrant candyfloss pink. And despite the attention she garnered simply by existing, she was nervous.

Coy.

Her eyes, like polished peridot, kept glancing around - aware of everyone, focussing on none. Her long, slender fingers knotted themselves in the bright orange fabric of her skirt. She’d clearly come straight from work. The clash of orange and red fabric was harsh, even for the Cafe, and reminded Sabine of the uniforms diner waitresses used to wear in the 1950s.

She looked like a fresh hunt, unsure of the cage. Trusting neither the feeding hand, nor the whip. The patter of rain and the rattle of chains were, to her, equally menacing.

Sabine had met with a lot of informants before - blabber mouths who didn’t know the meaning of ‘relevant’ and the tight-lipped types who’d rather have their teeth pulled than give anything up. The opportunists, cowards, good Samaritans.

The ‘What’s in it for me's…

The ‘Maybe if I’d’s…

The ‘You didn’t hear it from me’s…

But for the most part, they looked like this. Baby giraffes on gangly legs, wide-eyed, wondering how everyone else can walk around normally when the ground was shifting beneath their feet.

Most people in the galaxy didn’t know how to turn on a stunner, let alone fire it. Most people couldn’t fly an interplanetary ship, let alone interstellar. Most people heard Hugo Irix’s name for the first time when he was arrested. They weren’t as tightly woven into the fabric as Sabine. The weren’t aware of the back rooms, back alleys, backstabbing.

This kind of informant both comforted and saddened her. Could she even remember a time when the universe shocked her with its real face?

She rolled her neck on her shoulders as she approached.

There was one part of this job which was different from the others. Her first Reeka. Her first… well, anyone this large.

In principle, the big folk handled the big folk. The same went for Sabine and her circles. People kept to their business, and that business only mingled in the most extraordinary circumstances.

Well, Jay, She thought. Consider me curious.

“Vivara?”

The Reeka’s head snapped up, both over-prepared for and surprised by the interruption. Though her gaze went too high - too used to meeting her own kind at eye-level. It took her a beat to realise the empty space ahead of her and adjust. She seemed, if only just, surprised by just how far her eyes had to travel before they landed on Sabine.

It didn’t matter that she was expecting a human, or that she was meeting a stranger at a Boundary Bar in the mixed section - she still looked surprised. She didn’t even attempt to hide her shock and fascination. Like her childhood doll had suddenly sprung to life and called her name.

She wasn’t alone. Much to Sabine’s own surprise, her skin began to buzz when their eyes met. While she’d dealt with larger folk - mostly walls of flesh valued for the way their arms resembled tree trunks - she could hardly call them ‘big’ now. Here, in a way that was entirely foreign, was a towering creature, both impressive and lithe. Powerful and delicate. Features refined and precise. She existed at scale that should be considered brutish, but there couldn’t be a word less apt. Under her rounded stare - innocent, fascinated, unsure - Sabine was hyper-aware of herself. To be swallowed whole in one glance left her feeling like she was naked with a cold wind tickling across her skin. An odd sensation to be sure, here at the back of an intimate, humid bar in a forgotten corner of the Galaxy.

She cleared her throat, pushing the feeling away with a shake of her head.

Focus.

“Sorry, I’m late.” She said as she sat opposite the Reeka, adjusting her jacket in a stolen moment to compose herself.

From her pocket, she produced a small, round device. It looked like a standard communicator, mid-range and unremarkable, but had been modded with far more sensitive microphones to record their conversation. She pressed a small, indiscernible button on the side and placed it on the table between them

She wasn’t late. She’d been at the bar since before Vivara arrived, tucked into a corner and watching to see if anyone was tailing her or if she truly was alone. Only when she was satisfied, did Sabine make herself known.

“The IH472A was a nightmare.” She continued. “But you know how the end of the week is.”

The Reeka woman didn’t say anything. Despite their difference in size, she seemed intimidated by Sabine - scattered and frozen like the shards of glass that stared back at you after taking a bat to a mirror. Not that Sabine knew anything about that.

It didn’t bother her, she knew how these things started. Now she was seated and ready to interview, she felt that initial buzz begin to fade to a dull, distant hum.

She met the large peridot eyes again and smiled her best smile, which Jay thought still needed work after all these years.

What the fuck is that, Saba? Are you trying to fuck me or kill me?

It wasn’t the first time he’d suggested mandibles would make her face more appealing.

I know a girl - very talented. She did Charley’s second pair. Unfortunately, she couldn’t do anything about Charley’s personality.

“I’m Sabine,” She said. “Thanks of meeting with me, Vivara. I know this all must be overwhelming.”

At the mention of her own name, Vivara’s green cheeks deepened in colour. It was as if it shook her from her trance and made her aware of how much she was staring. Her shoulders ever so slightly relaxed back onto her chair and she untwisted her fingers from her skirt to tuck a loose strange of pink hair behind her ear.

“Sorry,” She muttered, her voice lower than her pointed, elfin features suggested. “I’ve never been to a place like this.”

She gestured around her with jagged movements. From her jumpiness, her waitress uniform, and the neat curl of her pink hair, that was hardly a revelation. But she suspected there was more in the comment.

Sabine nodded. “That’s ok. I’ve been to enough Boundary Bars for the two of us.” Liar. “They’re aren’t as scary as they seem. Jay’s people chose the Quasar for your benefit more than anything else.”

She frowned. “Really?”

“Yes. They figured you would want a place where no one would recognise you, but that wouldn’t require you to leave Reeka territory.”

“I appreciate that. Can you imagine if people knew I was going to a Boundary Bar.” Vivara’s laugh was breathy, and the sound of it made Saba’s buzz spike. “I feel like I’m so out of my depth here. But if I went into your Quadrant, I don’t know if there would be anywhere I could even fit through the door. And if I could, where I wouldn’t be gawked at.”

There was a harmony in the way she spoke, a natural fluidity that took her from one word to the next. Sabine could see the version of her that existed prior to her being involved in this mess. Open. Free. Unburdened. She decided not to tell Vivara that even here, in the Quasar Cafe, where Reekas were regulars and mixed meetings were the norm, she still drew the attention of everyone present. Every now and then, the focus of the mahjong players on the neighbouring table was broken by a glance in her direction. She didn’t blame them, even Sabine had been shocked when she saw Vivara first arrive.

But it did make things difficult for Sabine. With everyone so aware of the beautiful Reeka in the room, either consciously or subconsciously, they’d be suspicious of why someone like her would be in a place like this. As she chipped away at the wall of strangerhood between them, Sabine worked through options. What legitimate reason would she have for being here? With her of all people.

“You’d be surprised.” She said. “The galaxy is much more diverse than you might think.”

“Are most people in your Quadrant as… - sorry, there’s no other word - small as you?”

For reasons unexplained, Sabine felt her blood go hot. There was something about that word, small, that brought the difference in size between them back to the forefront. She’d never been described as small before, being above average height for a human woman. She’d been called weak - even short by a few of the taller species - but never small. Small felt all-encompassing. An assessment. A metric of how little space she took up. Small could be dismissed with a flick of the wrist.

It set her jaw.

“You’ve definitely never been over the border have you?”

Vivara’s cheeks deepened again. “Sorry. No. I haven’t. I don’t really know what I’m meant to do here.”

Sabine rolled her head on her shoulders, enjoying the way the space between the vertebrae popped as she did.

“There’s no rush, we can start when and where you’re most comfortable.”

Saba read the files Jay sent through a few times when they arrived. This wasn’t even her first interview on the matter. Before arriving at the Qasar, she’d spoken to a few cursory people. But this was her most important.

Jay’s son, Jayron, had, without his father’s knowing, began dealing with a powerful Reeka crime syndicate, with the intent to establish his own Blue Marine in Reeka territory. However, before Jay could put a stop to it, Jayron disappeared.

His last known location? Back booth of a diner, served by the only waitress on shift - a green-skinned Reeka with bright pink hair.

Which is why they were there, meeting at the Quasar. Jay didn’t want a Reeka investigating, having little knowledge of their networks and who was on whose payroll. And he didn’t trust the authorities, particularly when it came to inter-quadrant cases.

“I don’t really know if I’ll be of any help.” Vivara rambled. “I didn’t even know anything was wrong until your friends contacted me.”

Saba’s lips twitched at the implication she and Jay’s network were just a group of friends. That she was there for any reason other than professional obligation. It was sweet - the kind of naivety she was always so hesitant to tarnish.

If she could be honest, Sabine never really liked Jayron. Where Jay’s over-confident irreverence painted him as a seasoned and savvy businessman, those same traits were brash and childish in his son.

“Let me be the judge of what is and isn’t relevant. All I need from you is what you remember.”

“Ok.” Vivara nodded. Then she frowned. “So, what are you? A bounty hunter? A private eye?”

“Sometimes.” Sabine shrugged. “I like to think myself as professionally curious.“

She paused. Behind Vivara, she noticed another Reeka walk past and sit himself down at a nearby table. He had bright orange skinned and blue hair, and when he glanced in their direction, his eyes were cerulean. They flicked between her and Vivara. There was a squint in his gaze and tension in his shoulders, and his fingers danced on the rim of his glass. He wasn’t, as some might assume on first inspection, here for leisure.

He was here for Vivara.

There you are.

She knew they’d send someone. Nothing like a Boundary Bar to make everyone think they’re more discrete than they actually are. That was the real reason for the Quasar - information. Some from Vivara herself, and the rest from what her presence would tease out, like mice from the walls.

The last thing she wanted was to make Vivara aware of anything that would make her even more nervous. Sabine’s priority was to diffuse suspicion and collect the information she needed without putting Vivara in any further danger.

In this instance, she had the advantage of anonymity. The Reeka networks didn’t know her name or face. They had no reason to suspect this was anything more than two people having a drink together.

Just then, a waitress walked past them and Sabine waved her down. She was another Reeka woman with deep blue skin and black hair. While her clothes were dark, her smile and demeanour were bright.

At her approach, Vivara’s eyes found the floor - as if she were embarrassed that another of her kind would find her in a place like this. Even though, to the waitress, they were the least interesting patrons she’d served that week, let alone that night. She worked the mixed section of a Boundary Bar between different sized territories, while striking, Vivara was far too vanilla to be anything more to this waitress than a passing thought.

“Welcome folks!” The waitress beamed. “Can I get you anything to start?”

Sabine smiled, “Just the house for me. Vivara?”

She looked over at her informant. The floor must have really taken her because it took Sabine repeating her name to get her attention. And even then, she seemed to refuse to meet the waitress’s eyes.

“Ummm, the same, I guess.”

“Easy!” The waitress said, unperturbed. “And how long have you two been together, if you don’t mind me asking?”

That got Vivara’s attention. Her head shot up, her face, neck and chest flushed a deep forest colour. But before she could protest, Sabine interjected.

“Actually, this is our first date.” She made a point of sending a coy look at Vivara. “A mutual friend set us up. And we picked the Quasar because… well, you know.”

Vivara couldn’t have looked more lost if she tried. The poor thing could only stare, embarrassed, as Sabine took charge of the conversation.

The waitress placed a hand on her chest as she cooed. “Of course, aren’t you lucky! I wish I had friends like that. Well,” She said with a knowing smile. “I’ll get your order sorted. Have a good night, girls. Sing out if you need anything.”

When she was well out of sight, Vivara leant across the table, her size more pronounced the closer she got and Sabine found herself leaning back and away despite herself. She could feel Vivara’s breath wash over her.

“Why’d you say that?” Her whisper was harsh and it sent an unfamiliar thrill through Sabine’s veins.

“What?”

“That we’re on a date!”

Sabine shrugged. “It’s always easiest to go with what people believe. Why would I waste the effort trying to conjure a new lie that would barely convince her. You’re so obviously nervous. You’d sweat less if you were trapped in a tin can on Venus - that’s a planet from my system.” She clarified when Vivara frowned. “-You can barely look me in the eye and you’re stammering through every sentence. And that’s normal.” Sabine added softly. “She thinks you’re acting like that because we’re on a date. Let’s roll with it. We’re on a date and you’re telling me a story.”

Vivara pursed her lips. “Usually my dates are taller.”

Sabine felt her eyebrows raise on their own accord. “And mine are more articulate.”

Vivara’s shoulders sagged.

“Sorry,” She said for the third time that evening and guilt wound it’s way around Sabine’s heart and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Sabine’s eyes stole a moment to glance at the shadowing Reeka man. He was typing into a communicator. She raised a hand to Vivara.

“Not yet. Let’s start again. We’re on a date.”

“Right. Yes. Wow, it’s been a while since I was last on a date.”

“You’re joking.” Sabine wasn’t even acting. Even if Vivara turned around and told her exactly where Jayron was and all the contacts involved with his disappearance, that at would be the second most surprising thing she could have revealed that night.

Sabine didn’t date often either. She told herself it was because she was busy, or that it was risky. That she didn’t want to bring innocent people into her world, and that the people in her world were too far gone to ever be in a healthy, trusting relationship. Scavengers and bottom-feeders don’t thrive in partnership. They always end up eating each other.

That was her experience at least. A couple of flings that either burned out pathetically or exploded in a violent supernova. And now, she could hardly claim to be the most appealing piece on the market with her back in the firing line of every Irix contact in the Quadrant. The few beds she was welcome in would turn her away now.

She couldn’t remember the last time she made someone blush. She could barely remember how. And she could hardly take credit for Vivara’s nervousness - for her flustered sentences, her dry-mouthed rambling, her fidgeting fingers. The darkness in her complexion and the avoidant gaze were far more attached to what Sabine did than anything to do with who she was.

That was fine. That was the life she chose. If choice was the word.

But Vivara? Was she falsely interpreting the stares of other patrons? Were Reekas just that otherworldly that Vivara’s smooth, lush skin, gemstone eyes, and bouncy fairy floss bob were just average?

Vivara shook her head. “No, I don’t date often.”

“I can relate.”

“I mean, I get a lot of… approaches.” Vivara clarified and Sabine smirked. “Particularly at work, but the kind of clients I get at the diner are hardly the kind of people you’d want to spend any time with.”

Ah, there it is.

The Reeka man was looking at them again. Sabine made a point of laughing, and began weaving her braids together, eyeing Vivara with intent.

Vivara, unaware of their observer, let out a breathy chuckle. She pressed her hands to her cheeks.

“Is it warm in here, or just me?”

“It’s warm.” Sabine smiled, granting Vivara escape from her own flushing cheeks.

“Ok, good.” Vivara fanned herself with her hands. “I was going to say, you usually have to work harder to get me to blush like this.”

At that moment, their waitress returned with two glasses of a clear spirit - one that fit in her hand and one she pinched between her fingers. Of all things, that’s what made Sabine’s palms go clammy.

“Here you go!” She beamed, placing the glasses in front of them with a wink. “You let me know if I can help out with anything else.”

“Thanks.” Sabine smiled and Vivara echoed it with a low mumble.

Any time she became aware of the crowd at the bar, Vivara closed up. Sabine couldn’t let that happen. She needed her to feel confident enough to speak.

She took a sip of the spirit. It was harsher than she was used to, burning the back of her tongue like she was swallowing lighter fluid. She did her best to hide it, but it made her eye twitch.

Vivara seemed to have no issue. She sipped at her glass as if it were water. She met Sabine’s eyes and laughed.

“Strong?”

Sabine coughed. She didn’t need to, but it did the trick. Vivara laughed harder, resting a gentle hand on her chest. The sound of it, the music, made Sabine’s tongue feel heavy.

“Much stronger than the stuff I’m used to.”

Vivara raised her eyebrows, “Really? I was about to say it’s a bit weak.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

Vivara shook her head and her pink hair bounced around her shoulders. “No. What we serve at the diner is a lot more intense than this.”

“I think that would probably kill me.” Sabine muttered. Half of her meant it, wondering what kind of battery acid Reekas drank casually at a diner. The other half of her leaned into the hyperbole, itching for another hit of the Reeka’s laughter. She got it and with it, her whole body flooded with a warm hum - much faster than what anything in her glass would achieve.

“I can’t imagine you at the diner.” Vivara said. “This is strange enough.”

Sabine was too focussed to be offended by that. This was her in. Vivara was talking more openly, more naturally. Their conversation was so boring that any inquisitive ear would have turned away.

“Who do you usually see at work?”

Vivara’s expression became serious as she caught on. It wasn’t ideal, but Reekas weren’t known for their stoicism. All emotions were as easy to read as an alphabet picture book. Her brow settled lower over her eyes and she took a swig of her glass.

Her unoccupied hand returned to burying itself in knots in her skirt.

“It’s a busy place.” She started. “Loud. The tables are always full and we’re always understaffed. We get a mix too - families like it because kids eat cheap, lonely folks like to disappear in the noise, people come during their lunch break or after work. We’re open early until late.”

“Regulars, or mostly strangers?”

“Both. Definitely some I know by name, but also plenty I don’t.”

“And in the case of the night two weeks ago?”

Vivara shook her head. “They weren’t regulars, but they didn’t stand out either. They just struck me as normal businessmen. From the way they dressed, I assumed they were workers from a nearby office. Probably higher paid than most. I’ve been working at the diner long enough to know who will and won’t tip.”

“And this group looked like they would?”

Vivara rolled her eyes. “No. The richer they are, they less they tip and the more they expect you to perform. I knew as soon as they walked in that this group was going to be trouble.” She stopped, and bit her tongue. “But not trouble like -“ She waved her hand mostly in Sabine’s direction. “That.”

Sabine smirked. That. Could she blame Vivara for painting everyone associated with Jayron’s disappearance as that? Victim, perpetrators, investigators - they were all, in their own way, trouble.

“Gotcha.” She nodded. “Wealthy, put together. Enough to make you groan, but nothing to set your alarms off.”

Vivara nodded. “That was until I arrived at their booth to take their order, and I saw… well…”

“Jayron.”

“Yes. Though I didn’t know that was his name. When I said we usually serve a mix, I meant a mix of Reekas. It was the first time I’ve ever seen anyone from another species in person.”

Sabine had to make a concerted effort to stop her jaw from dropping.

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.” Vivara’s face flushed again. “I didn’t realise my life was so sheltered.”

Sabine whistled. “So, I must really be a freak of nature to you.” She laughed at Vivara’s appalled expression and waved down her building defence. “Only a joke. You’re doing great for a first timer.”

“Thank you.” Vivara said though she looked bashful, embarrassed by her own naïveté. “If I’d known other species were so pretty, I’d have ventured out sooner.”

Sabine felt her own face warm and suddenly her jacket felt too tight. She couldn’t stop her furrowed brow.

Vivara leant in closet and a tension curled in Sabine’s chest.

“We’re on a date, right?” The Reeka offered in explanation.

The tension released and Sabine let out a long breath. She admonished herself for the small twinge of disappointment she felt now knowing it was just part of the act.

Unaware of her own effect, Vivara continued her account.

“I was so rude when I saw him.” Vivara groaned. “I didn’t know what to do. I just stared. And the others at the booth seemed to think that was funny.”

At that moment, their waitress walked past their table. In response, Sabine made a show of leaning over and placing her hand lightly on Vivara’s. She laughed and pulled her braids over one shoulder.

“Oh my god!” She crooned. “That’s so funny. You have to tell me more about it!”

In the back of her head though, she hyper fixated on the smoothness beneath her fingers, the warmth. The size of the hand beneath her own. Every minute pulse and flinch was on display below her. She could feel them in intense detail.

Vivara stared down at the offending hand - at where the two strangers touched for the first time. The waitress passed and they both pulled their hands away.

Sabine’s gaze flicked to the orange Reeka man. He was, or at least pretending to be, distracted by a game on a high screen above the bar. A few patrons were equally captivated. By the sounds of the spectators, the local team was losing. Sabine didn’t recognise the sport - probably Reekan in origin - but she did recognise the way the man’s head flung back.

“Ummmm,” Vivara said, bringing Sabine back into focus. Vivara was still staring at the space where their hands had met. Her cheeks awash. “Sorry, I forgot what I was saying.”

Sabine smiled. “You saw Jayron for the first time. Can you tell me more about that? How did he look, what were they talking about, how many people were in the booth? Those kinds of details are really helpful.”

“He looked… well, it’s hard to tell because he’s so different. But I’d say he looked overwhelmed. Constantly looking at the others, but I don’t know if it was for reassurance or out of fear. He’s about half your size and he was sitting up on the table, which I don’t think he liked. I mean,” She gestured between the two of them. “At least here, there are mixed sections and we can sit here as equals. But at the diner, the power imbalance was scary and I wasn’t even part of it.”

“That’s probably why they picked the diner. Crowded, loud, full of a species so much bigger with no one else to relate to. They would’ve wanted to isolate him.”

Vivara shivered. “That’s so scary. They stopped talking when I approached and I must have looked so stupid! My usual waitress spiel died as soon as I saw him. Then one of the four men prods Jayron with a thick finger and says, I don’t think she likes our pet, Little Jay…and I laughed!” She buried her face in her hands. “It just came out of me. I laughed. He was in trouble and I just laughed.”

Sabine buried the feeling of secondhand humiliation. But it mingled with her exasperation. Of course Jayron had to pick a Reekan syndicate for his first grand venture. Of course the desperation to out-do his father led him well out of his depth. Led to him going missing. Led his father to getting involved. Led to her getting involved. Vivara getting involved. How long would that list get before he was found? If he was found. And, if he was, Sabine knew he’d just go off and do it again. The cycle would start over.

And beneath all of that, there was her sadness for Jay, who knew his son didn’t have the gumption to take on his empire, and yet encouraged him to dream.

Behind Vivara, the Reeka man sipped his drink and watched the game. Then he paused mid-sip when his communicator flashed. He returned the glass to the table and inspected the new message. After a moment, he began typing furiously.

Once, and so briefly you could argue it didn’t happen, cerulean met obsidian and then both glanced away.

Fuck.

“It’s ok.” She said to Vivara, identifying the easy exits she’d scouted when she first arrived. As always, she had back-ups for the back-ups. “It’s a normal reaction to laugh when we’re stressed. Maybe part of you knew something was amiss, and for your own safety, you played along.”

Vivara glanced up from her palms. Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded, almost desperate for the out Sabine offered. “Yeah. Maybe that was it. I think I suspected something. All conversation died when I came to the table again with their orders but later, I heard more of what they were discussing.” She chewed her cheek. “I don’t usually make a habit of eavesdropping, but for some reason - nosiness, fascination, or fear - I was paying extra attention to whatever I could catch whenever I walked by.”

Sabine nodded, she found herself pulling in closer. This would be the lead. Maybe here would be something she could work with.

“And?”

Vivara took her glass and downed the rest of her drink in a way that would surely burn a hole in Sabine’s throat if she were to do the same.

“It was only snippets.”

“It usually is.” Sabine said, there was an anticipation curling and writhing in her stomach.

“I heard just a few phrases in passing. I remember ’next shipment’, ‘Florean Sector’, ‘Marcho Galvoni’, and ‘each pretty pincer’. But I don’t know if that’s helpful?”

Sabine steepled her fingers and pressed them to her lips. She nodded, committing the snippets to memory. She knew she had the communicator recording everything, but trusted her brain better.

Next shipment.

Florean Sector.

Marcho Galvoni.

Each pretty pincer.

They weren’t answers, but it was enough. She’d worked with less before.

Jayron, you fucking idiot.

“And when they left,” Vivara continued. “I didn’t see Jayron. I remember, despite the rush, looking for him as they left and being confused. But then,” She shrugged. “I didn’t see him when they entered, and the cafe was busy.”

Sabine frowned. “Did they have any bags with them?”

Vivara’s eyes widened like an angel first encountering sin. “Oh yes, they did. I remember. Just a brief case.”

“Would it have..?” She left the question unfinished. Vivara was already nodding.

“I think so.”

“And their colouring? The men in the booth?”

Vivara frowned, and for a second Sabine wondered if there was a better way to phrase that question. Vivara didn’t correct her, but that didn’t mean much.

“One had a deep red complexion and neon yellow hair. Another two were so similar I’m sure if they weren’t twins, they were at least siblings - pale blue skin, mustard hair. But the one who was doing most of the talking was all white - skin, hair, eyes. He was mean - cruel. I struggled to look him in the eye.”

What does that make me? Sabine thought as she could count the few times during their conversation Vivara had actually met her gaze.

She noted the descriptions. This last seemed unique enough for a Reeka that she could get a lead or two. But before she could follow-up, the shadowing man stood from his table, drained his glass, grabbed his communicator and began walking toward their table. She froze and admonished herself when Vivara noticed.

“What?” She frowned, beginning to look around.

“It’s nothing.” Sabine lied.

But then ‘nothing’ stopped beside Vivara at the mixed bar. The two of them together were an impressive sight - all-encompassingly large, dominating her entire view with their bright, saturated colours.

Noticing his presence, Vivara seized. Her whole body when rigid and her gaze once more returned to the floor. Her green face was ashen and Sabine thought she might faint.

But, despite Sabine’s assumption about their shadow, he paid Vivara no mind. Instead, his bright sea-blue eyes bore into Sabine in a way that sent an electric bolt through her nerves and left them sizzling like powerlines in the rain. Now, more than any time before, she was aware of the difference between them - the sheer gap in size, strength, presence. If she were to be cornered by him, there would be little she could do.

She didn’t recognise him but the look in his eye was knowing, which unnerved her even more. She was well-known in some circles. Mostly in circles where being well known did more harm than good.

“Sabine Ducote?” He asked and she didn’t grace him with a reply, simply opting to maintain his stare. If he knew her name and face, this was just performance.  “I thought it was you, but had to check with a few contacts to confirm.”

Vivara’s pink curls bounced as her head swung frantically between the two and their silent standoff.

“What’s happening?” Her voice was rising in urgency.

The Reeka man placed a gentle but firm hand on Vivara’s back, making the larger girl freeze. Her eyes when to Sabine’s with some silent plea for comfort. Assurance. Sabine wondered if this was what Jayron looked like at the diner.

“Don’t worry.” She said and knew it was unhelpful. She wasn’t willing to give anything away yet.

“I agree.” The man smiled. His hand still lingered on Vivara’s shoulder and the Reeka woman’s expression was as if she thought it would leave a stain. “You have no need to worry, love. Your girlfriend though?” He smirked down at Sabine who, was calculating whether reaching for her communicator or her stunner first would be wiser. “Well, see for yourself.”

He placed his communicator on the bar between them. It was huge next to Sabine’s own and what she saw on it made her feel as if all her bones had suddenly dissolved - that she’d flop onto the floor to be mopped up by the waitress later.

There, on the display, was her face - her white, thin braids, her dark skin, the scar across her nose. It was a candid photo but she couldn’t place where it was taken. It was too zoomed in to gauge any location. What she did recognise was the Irix sigil stamped in the upper left corner of the photo.

Bounty brand.

Across the bottom of the photo was her name. Another instance where the Hugo prosecutor’s screwed her over. Instead of using her case alias, they, in front of Hugo, called her to the stand by her full name.

She swallowed when she saw ‘PRICE NEGOTIABLE’ underneath her name. Open priced bounties were beyond rare. This would send every money hungry hunter in the Galaxy after her, even well outside Keridian territory.

“Hugo sends his regards.” The Reeka man grinned.

But before his hands could move to the stunner tucked under his coat, she had hers drawn and ready. One quick pull and there was a pretty new red freckle between his surprised brows. His cerulean eyes rolled and as his body crumpled to the floor, his hand slid off Vivara’s shoulders, causing the larger girl to shriek.

Around the bar, all eyes turned to them and Sabine sighed. Her heart pounded. She was in deeper shit than she or Jay could have ever imagined. As patrons began to stir, uncovering the cause of the interruption, Sabine snatched her communicator and quickly deleted the bounty message from the Reeka’s.

“What’s happening?” Vivara’s voice was wavering and panicked.

Sabine looked at her and peridot clung to her gaze desperately. Her chest aches at the sight. She didn’t have time to explain. Their Reeka shadow knew nothing of Jayron business as Sabine assumed, but was instead there for her - for the mess Vivara had nothing to do with.

For reasons she couldn’t explain, she reached over and stole a precious second to place a sure hand on Vivara’s again.

“I’m sorry.” She said, and meant it. “Thank you for everything. I hope you never have to see me again.”

And then she bolted, leaving Vivara in a stunned silence as fellow patrons and staff of the Quasar swarmed around her. They were intrigued more than anything, and did not share Vivara’s horror at the lifeless form beside her. It was, after all, a boundary bar.

As she ran towards the closest exit, Sabine heard their waitress tut her tongue to a couple she was serving.

“Been there.” She said.

Sabine didn’t have time to think about anything except getting as far away from the Quasar Cafe as possible.

Though lingering in the back of her mind was a stupid thought she couldn’t quite shake.

All things considered, not a bad date.

______________________________________________________________

(@biggnansmol - thank you so much for donating! I'm sorry it's been a while coming. I hope you enjoyed xx

I loved this prompt and wanted to put a different spin on it. And let's be real, if it's a story by me it will have two key components: awkward gay flirting and batshit insanity. And added bonus if it's in space.

I had so much fun with this one. Someone sent me an ask recently about there not being enough wlw stories in GT - happy to make another contribution with these girls.

-ray xx)

[yurinaa-world]

Please I'm having a moment, I'm sleepless, Sad, and lovesick.  Please, Can I have a scenario with Vash and Wolfwood separeted where it's a cold night and they have cold hands, and a fem reader who is just great at flirting but unintentionally, just takes their hand and shoves it between her thick thighs and warm them up, as if it was nothing and asking "Better?" THANK YOU AND DRINK WATER!!!

Thicc thighs save lifes babie~

Characters: Vash and Nicholas x Female Reader

Synopsis: Warming up their cold hands with your thighs

Warnings: fluff, nickname princess (Nicholas)

𝒱𝒶𝓈𝒽 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐻𝓊𝓂𝒶𝓃𝑜𝒾𝒹 𝒯𝓎𝓅𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓃"

It felt like one of the coldest nights, everyone in Noman's land was already fast asleep except for you and Vash. You laid in your sleeping bag trying to sleep but failing, turning your side to see Vash. He was sat up on top of his sleeping bag, his body facing you, while looking at the stars. It was your turn to stay watch for the first half of the night, but Vash told you that he can stay watch again.

You could see him shivering a little because of the wind, getting up from your sleeping bag, and saying, "You aren't tired?" Vash asked, looking back down at you with a soft smile, but you shake your head and say a small no. You see him take the fleshy hand held in front of his mouth as he blows out a warm breath to warm his hand up.

An idea clicked in your head. How about you help him out at least to warm up his hands? You grab both of his hands and put them between your thighs, warming them together "better." You could see Vash's face go completely red; a faint eep left from his lips before he pulled his hands back in surprise, then grabbed his hands once again and put them in between your thighs.

His face remained red and even more embarrassed than before, his eyes widened, and he looked at you, asking, "Do you feel better?"You smiled softly at him, and you saw him nod slowly and say, "You don't have to do this." Vash blushed more. "Your hand will freeze and fall off," you replied, "but why do you like it this way?" Vash mumbled, averting his eyes away from you.

You smile and lean closer to him. "So is it better, Vash?" Your voice was low and whispered, and you saw Vash look up to you.

𝒩𝒾𝒸𝒽𝑜𝓁𝒶𝓈 𝒟 𝒲𝑜𝓁𝒻𝓌𝑜𝑜𝒹 "𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝒫𝓊𝓃𝒾𝓈𝒽𝑒𝓇"

You shivered and pulled your coat tighter around you, wrapping your arms around yourself for warmth. "Ya want me to warm you up?" Nicholas teased with a mischievous glint in his eyes, yet you could tell that he was cold as well; his hands had a bright red color from the frost.

"Your hands look like they're about to fall off." You pointed out, "Worry about yourself, princess." He smirked, he always came back at you, and no matter how you tried to get him back in some way or another, it never seemed to work; you felt your brain click, you grabbed Nicholas' hands, putting them in between your thighs, and feeling the cold sensation made your breath hitch.

"better Nicholas~?" You asked, and you could see his ears going red, but he quickly recovered, saying, "Way softer than I thought." Nicholas commented, as you felt his frigid hands squeeze your thighs. "So cold," you muttered, as Nicholas got a huge grin on his face.

 "what? You wanted to warm me up, didn't you?" He teased, and you felt your c he saflush.ekNotlush "Iot that i'm complaini,g though."  He added, his thumb rubbing small circles into your thigh, making you melt against him.

Nicholas took advantage of the situation by pulling your legs closer to himself and wrapping them around his waist. You could only blush harder as he nuzzled into your neck, his hot breath fanning across your neck.

"Are you all warmed up now?"

if you liked this, consider tipping me on ko-fi! it'd mean a lot!

[luxudus]

Neurodivergency becomes the Norm

old drawing that was meant to be my final spectember entry for this year.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To the people who built the guidestones in orbit of our world. This message is towards you and the rest of your kind

We are the Savunato of the planet Apsis in the Oese system. it may not seem like it, but we believe to be your descendants. You may not remember our ancestors of your kind, who first landed on Apsis. It has been 10 million years since that happened. But we are happy to refresh your memory.

From the knowledge we gathered, catastrophe had struck your home planet. We don't know what happened, but it was bad enough for your kind to lose all hope of mending what was broken.

So you looked to the stars for a second chance. In a last ditch effort to save your kind, you launched the Eos Ark program. Sending 35 colony ships across a sea of stars, looking for any habitable planet to call home.

However those colony ships were flawed, they were made in a rush. And had no way of holding its own plants and animals to start agriculture. And too little gear for the colonists to survive in their current form.

Our colony ship just so happened to land here on Apsis. And we couldn’t have been more thankful for it. Apsis is very much like earth, having her own oceans and life. The flora here are fleshy and adorned with red broad leaves. While the fauna walked on three legs, saw with three eyes, and were protected by a woody exoskeleton.

By our sheer luck, the 6 planets of our system had aligned and gifted us a world we could actually survive on. The native life was digestible and the air was breathable. We had our second chance.

Our ancestors’ ship however, was ill-prepared. Again there were barely any tools to help them survive in their current form. We couldn’t shape the world to our needs.The world shaped us to her needs. We adapted, and we evolved.

Relative to your anatomy and lifestyle. Our arms became hyper-extended and stronger. Meaning we can switch between bipedal and quadrupedal locomotion on the fly. Our ancestral thumbs have become vestigial. In place of this, our Index and pinky fingers have become opposable so we can manipulate our environment once more. Our faces too have elongated, our teeth grew harder to get through the exoskeletons of our prey. And we grew fangs to slice through the trees.

One of the most significant things in our history was a slow but all encompassing change to the way we think of the world. Several mental states spurred on by genetics had spread across our population. Mental conditions you would classify as Autism, ADHD, OCD, Dyslexia, Anxiety, Depression, and so on. For you, you’d call us neurodivergent, For us it’s simply the norm, It makes us who we are.

Our modern society has been slowly reworked from the ground up. All in order to empower our new mentality. Now revolving around organization and efficiency. Our work ethic is streamlined to the point where we can get all the day’s work done before noon. With our goal being placed on long term results rather than pure production. Extreme emphasis has been put on the care and wellbeing for the developmentally disabled.

We put as much care into texture as they do with colors and patterns. Plenty of our cultures have a wide array of both visual and tactile patterns and a variety of textures to best fit the wearer. And affection through physical contact is revered as a sign of deep trust within many of our cultures.

We have sailed far beyond the reaches of our new cradle. Reaching new heights by reaching the other worlds that orbit our sun. We’ve explored, colonized, and have begun terraforming the most habitable worlds to make them as comfortable as apsis. We have even begun plunging into the interstellar depths to survey our closest neighbors.

One day we found your wayward stones. The plaques made of the spirit of our original homeworld, like the embers of a great fire holding out in the cold quiet night. We found them on the space station that brought you here, that brought our ancestors down to apsis.

I myself, the Savunato writing this, was one of the lucky few to board your station. We found it still orbiting apsis, Everything was still intact and untouched like a day hadn’t passed. Like we were connected from the depths of time.

We looked to the cosmos to find the others. Sending probes out into deep space with our history. And beaming messages to distant stars, All in hopes of finding you or another one of your descendants. No one’s responded so far, We may very well be the last living descendants of your kind.

If any of you are still out there. Let us show you we did it. we did it humanity, we made it. We survived. We made it through the toughest Apsis had to offer. We shared the worst mistakes the both of us have made. We learned for the better. We kept the flame going. May we survive for another 10 million years. May we be your successors.

If any of you are still out there.

I hope we made you proud…

[crying-fantasies]

Rodimus wasn't ready to be a creator (1)

Masterlist

Part 1: Glimpses of you | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10

The silence was present in the room again when one of the sensors were pressed, going straight to the very beginning of the visual record.

"Well, okay, good, we are-" there is a fleshy in the screen, it's young for it's kind, looking with tired eyes at the little, probably custommade, data pad, little finger searching and pointing till something finally catches the attention in those little and watery eyes "in the entry number 3065... I guess? I lost count of it after the first 4 digits number" there is a sound, like the fleshy is annoyed, it comes from the mouth, no, throat, "anyway, this is more about good news, I know that the last entry was of me shouting out loud about the end of the world" there is a pause, the hand of the fleshy goes straight to it's forehead, a sigh, a heavy one, "I don't even know how we survived that last one but here we are, at least 5 days since the last near to the death experience of the ship" again, that sound, a move of the mouth, a smile, a forced one, it looks at the end of it's sanity, especially when other voice just appears.

"It wasn't that bad" there is a bot behind, bigger than the fleshy, it's easy to tell when all that can be seen it's the midsection, bright red.

"What part of near death experience wasn't bad?" There is a laugh, almost bitter before it gets real, warmer, "anyway, the topic of today, the matrix: part 8, well, Rodimus is going to help us with the topic, again"

"Who could do it better, right?"

"Um, Great OP-?"

"Now you just want to tease me-"

There is a little cut, mainly because the video record is stopped at the appearance of another voice, but he just pushed it so hard that the record is on and out, even going to other entries, letting the voice in the video and the one in the present to be heard almost at the same time.

A present one, in the very same room.

"Aw, I remember that one" the very same voice, the very same bright red, yellow and orange paint job with the same freaking smile on his face plate.

And the very same problem of disruptive behavior, especially when entering other bots chambers.

"Why did you get in here? When?"

"Well, I just heard the voice of your mo-"

"That doesn't give you the right to enter my hab suit like nothing!"

"Hey, my ship, my rules, and before all that, I'm your fa-"

"Ugh, you can't say that everytime, what about my privacy?!"

Those words apparently seem to stir something inside of him, big blue optics go wide open while one servo goes straight over his chassis, just above his spark chamber.

"You sound just like your mot-"

"Agh, I don't want to hear you anymore!" And with that the younger bot changes his alt mode to try and overrun the older one, quite a joke really, it was obvious that the alt mode of his 'sire' was far more than capable of surpassing him.

"I just want to spend more time with you, Sunny!"

"Leave me alone!" Both just got out of the area at high speed, but the screen was still showing the video record.

"-Rodimus, seriously, respect my privacy" the fleshy was smiling, words losing strength, the tired eyes present as always, while the big bot smiled alongside the human, one could describe them as close, maybe too much.

"Aw, but this is also my hab suit, you know-?"

"-Entry number 5809" the very same human, now showing a little thing, gray in color with newly formed optics tightly closed, wrapped in soft and fuzzy blankets to keep the sentio metallico, the birth metal, warm till the moment the new born is finally ready to at least show a more defined face, the little thing kindly wrapped between loving arms, as small as a human baby "well, um, it was harder than expected, I kind of died at least 4 times before this little thing was out and finally took form", the human starts to laugh, more tired than ever, almost looking at the edge of it's own sanity, again, it looks like a few pounds were stolen from the organic's body, hands and arms wrapped in patches of new synthetic skin.

"Don't bring that up again" there is the very same bot, he looks exhausted, maybe even scared, while both his servos are still holding the human for dear life itself next to his chest armor, looking at the pair with big eyes, fearful ones, his whole demeanor showing that he is protecting the human and protoform with his whole body if necessary, "never again..."

"Heh, quite the adventure, right Sunset?"

The protoform only moves a little, trying to be as close as possible to the nearest warm place, that being his mother's embrace, mouth forming slowly.

"You're really going with Sunset?"

"I like it"

"Hum, yeah, me too, let's see what the little bitlet chooses later"

"What? Sunset Eve is a good name"

"I get you but, we don't exactly have those in Cybertron or in space"

The video finally ends, while it could still be heard in the distance the shouting of the young bot and the older one, now in some kind of father and son activity while other bots just get out of their way to prevent an accident.

.

This is so self-indulgent, I'm sorry but this is a phase that I can't escape.

You are my inspiration, I love your work

@my-writings-and-musings @lost-light-incorrect-quotes @montyuh @compaculaaa

[purpleqilinwrites]

apple cake.

a/n: i missed writing childe, so here i am again! i don't what it is, but he's so very fun to write.

fandom: genshin impact

character: childe

genre: general

info: established relationship (you are childe's friend); this takes place pre-canon timeline; children being rowdy; childe's real name is used here

warnings: -

synopsis: as always, getting put in time-out is his fault.

word count: 1.0k

fluff-vember prompt: get-along sweater

fluff-vember 2023 masterlist is here.

Childe

You slapped at Ajax's cheek.

He yelped more out of indignation that you had hit him than pain, and he fixed you with a glare, his brows knitting together. Your mother was already out of sight, so it meant that you could "act like a hooligan".

You jabbed a finger in the direction of his cheek, returning his stink eye in kind. "It's all your fault!" you said, your volume in between a whisper and a shout, still mindful of the fact that you were banished upstairs with him as a form of punishment. "They knew 'cause you had crumbs on your stupid face!"

Ajax stuck his tongue out at you and made a farting noise with his mouth. You made a move to catch the wiggling muscle, thumb and index finger readied. He ducked your hand to the best of his ability, which dragged you along with the suddenness of his movement.

At the threat of losing your balance and then falling, you scrambled to push Ajax under you so that he would hit the floor first. There was the sound of both your bodies dully thudding against the carpet that softened the impact. Your shoulder and hip throbbed in protest to the fall, and you remembered your cousin's advice as you pinched the bridge of your nose to keep yourself from crying.

There was no way that Ajax would let you forget it if you cried in front of him because of a little fall.

You elbowed his back, yelling at him to mask the beginnings of a sniffle. Ajax thrashed about in preparation to return the blow, and you elbowed him again in an attempt to make him stop moving. The already stretched neckline of the sweater that you had been forced to share with him for time-out was digging into your neck, and it was all because he kept flailing about like an earthworm that had been cut in half.

"S-Stop!"

Ajax was on his belly now, not quite facing you yet. "No, you stop! You!" he said, his spit landing warm on your chin. You grimaced, moving your hand from your nose to scrub his saliva off your face.

"You're ew," you said, still frowning.

Ajax made another farting noise with his mouth, before he began mocking your words with an overly exaggerated imitation of your voice. You stuck a hand between the sweater and your neck, tugging backwards with as much force as you could manage with the rest of your arm uncomfortably trapped inside the washed out fabric.

"Your neck is red," Ajax said, poking at your skin along a line that felt particularly tender.

You swatted him away with your other hand, and this time, you were the one sticking your tongue out. Just for a second, before he could think to try and pinch it like you tried earlier on.

"If you keep frowning, Barbatos will kiss you and you'll frown forever!" he said, shoving at your forehead with the fleshy part of his palm.

"So? Then I'll frown forever!" you said, doing to Ajax what had been done to you. Maybe if you could stretch this old sweater to the point that it ripped—

This time, he did not repay the shove in kind. Ajax was quiet for a moment, so you waited, still thinking about ruining this sweater but not daring to act upon the temptation. You wanted to avoid getting punished for another thing. "Then who'll want to marry you?" he asked. "No one likes angry-looking people!"

You made a farting noise at him, still frowning. "I don't care," you said.

Ajax was moving unnecessarily again, so you jerked on the neckline of the sweater to keep it from digging in once more. He seemed not to notice your discomfort, so he continued tossing about until he was lying on his side and facing you.

"Okay, fine," Ajax said, sighing. You harrumphed, because you felt like you deserved to say those words to him more. "If no one wants to marry you, I'll do it."

He made it sound like an absolute chore. As though the prospect of marrying you was worse than cleaning out the village horse stables by himself. Your ire burned in your cheeks, tightening the muscles of your jaw.

"I don't like to marry you, Ajax," you said. "You smell sweaty and you're bad at counting."

It was Ajax's turn to be insulted, a gasp escaping him at your honest – though slightly overplayed to discredit him – assessment of him. His annoyance pleased you, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you bit on the inside of your cheek to let it sting a little. Just enough to keep your lips pinched to prevent you from grinning.

"You can marry me for my Mama's apple cake!" he said, his eyes wide and his smile content. He spoke as though he was offering you a solution to all your life's troubles. Like waiting for this time-out to be declared over by an old person so that you could rejoin the other kids playing board games downstairs and eat some of the apple cake Ajax's mother made.

It was the most famous apple cake in your village. In the whole of Snezhnaya, even.

You felt some saliva gathering in your mouth at the memory of the few mouthfuls you managed to steal an hour earlier, and you cleared your throat loudly so that he would not hear you swallow it. The apple cake made by Ajax's mother was the most famous apple cake because she made it best. Even better than your own mother, but you would never say it out loud.

His smile seemed to grow, and you knew he could tell you were seriously considering his offer. You huffed, feeling like you betrayed yourself even if there was no such thing as a person who could turn down an extremely tasty slice of apple cake.

"I still don't like to marry you," you said, wrinkling your nose in displeasure when you imagined yourself having to hold Ajax's hand and then act like the closeness brought you joy. "But maybe I like to marry your brother."

[noodleblade]

KOBD discovering a mistletoe

I wrote like 12 different versions of this but I went with the sappiest option possible. ALSO HOW DO PEOPLE WRITE TINY SUB 500 WORD THINGS??? ITS IMPOSSIBLE!!

It was always hard to look at anything but Knock Out. 

From his sleek, flashy frame to his cutting smile, Breakdown found it difficult to keep his eyes off his partner. Even now, as sharp claws tapped along his chest, glowing red optics dim in the dark medbay, his smile softer than he would ever allow anyone but Breakdown to see- he was perfection. Breakdown didn’t want to look away, even if he had to.

However.

In the corner of his visual field, he couldn’t help but notice a deep red object hanging above their helms…

“Doc,” Breakdown murmured low, his voice rumbling across his chassis, “what’s that?” Breakdown gestured with his helm, nodding his chin upward toward the leaves? plant? flower?

“Don’t worry about it, darling,” Knock Out whispered, never taking his optics off Breakdown as he traced a digit along the curve of his jaw.

Usually, that’d be enough for Breakdown. If Knock Out wasn’t concerned, then neither would he. After all, it was Knock Out’s medbay and despite his reluctance to do his job on occasion, his partner always kept a clean workspace. Still, it was…difficult for Breakdown to ignore it, especially when Knock Out tilted his chin upward to drag his lips along his throat cables. The pleasurable heat of his partner’s affection was only able to distract Breakdown for a few seconds.

“So, is it like a plant or somethin’?”

Knock Out let out an exasperated sigh against Breakdown’s intake, pressing his face there. 

“Yeah. Something like that.”

“Oh,” Breakdown nodded, leaning back as Knock Out started again, moving his lips to the hollow of his throat, his glossa coming out to trace the seam where his intake melded to his chest plate- “Why?”

“Breakdown,” Knock Out huffed, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze, “are you not enjoying the moment?”

“What? No! It’s great, you’re great,” Breakdown quickly reassured, pressing a kiss to Knock Out’s cheek. “I just…” his optics drifted back up to the organic plant…thing. Now that he was properly looking at it, he could see it wasn’t rooted into the wall like he’d seen the plants on Earth’s surface do. Instead, it was dangling by a short length of wire, lazily spinning right about their helms at the entry of the medbay. “...don’t get it.”

“There’s nothing to get,” Knock Out muttered but, curiously enough, a faint heat rolled across his partner’s plating. If Breakdown didn’t know Knock Out better, he’d assume it was nothing, but he could see the way the medic’s plating shifted in anxious little twitches and how his clawed digits flexed by his side. 

“Come on,” Breakdown said, speaking in the low, soft way he knew Knock Out was particularly fond of. “Spill. What’s the deal with it?”

Hesitancy crossed Knock Out’s field, tinged with a hint of reluctance and embarrassment. Breakdown reached to cup his partner’s helm, letting his thumb brush against the medic’s faceplates in a soft, gentle circle. 

“Its…an Earth tradition. I wanted to try it,” Knock Out finally said, his words slow and carefully picked as he looked anywhere but Breakdown’s face. “The fleshies hang them from doorways and whenever someone enters, you have to kiss them.”

Breakdown blinked, letting Knock Out’s words roll over him before he felt his optic ridges pinch together. “Why?”

“I don’t know why they do it!” Knock Out snapped defensively. Despite his words, the tone was more embarrassed than angry. Still, the speedster muttered a quiet, “Sorry” before ducking away. He attempted to move back but Breakdown circled his free arm around Knock Out’s waist, keeping his partner close. 

“Seems pointless,” Breakdown muttered, looking up at the plant. It was a pretty flower, though its red was nothing compared to Knock Out’s superior finish. “You can just ask me to kiss you.”

“That’s not the point,” Knock Out huffed, but he remained close to Breakdown, even leaning in to rest his head against Breakdown’s chest. “It’s supposed to be romantic.”

Breakdown snorted, taking the small swat Knock Out gave him as a consolation. “Sorry,” he said, unable to keep the smile out of his voice, “but humans are kind of dumb, tricking others for kisses.”

“Yeah,” Knock Out muttered, “it’s dumb.”

“Probably should move it,” Breakdown said. “What if someone else came in? Like ‘Screamer or even worse, Megatron. You’d have to kiss them.”

He didn’t even need to look down to know Knock Out was wrinkling his faceplates in distaste. 

“No thanks. I’ll just dump it down the waste disposal.”

Breakdown could…feel the disappointment in Knock Out’s field. Even if he didn’t quite understand the idea of a flower compelling people to kiss each other or why that was romantic, clearly Knock Out had liked it enough to try. 

“What if we hung it in our room?” Breakdown suggested. “That way I get to kiss you every time I come in.”

“You do that anyway,” Knock Out brushed off, but his field was warmer, a hint of a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. 

“Yeah, but you gotta do it too.” Never mind the fact that Knock Out also already did that. At least his words made Knock Out grin.

“I guess if I have to,” Knock Out teased, rocking up to his toes to press a kiss to Breakdown’s chin. “It’ll be just for us.”

Breakdown was more than happy to meet him the rest of the way, flower or not.

[randomwriteronline]

@cantankerouscanuck

There were still things that put the Chain on edge.

Surprisingly; because they'd been through some wild stuff, individually and together.

Sudden appearance of a portal? They could handle that. They'd gotten almost used to it, by now. Only almost, but almost.

No, the weird part, which made the nine heroes draw out their swords in the blink of an eye to point their blades at the brand new threat and Skull Kid's pupils thin into slits as they hid behind their larger friends' legs, was that from the strange gateway into who knows what dimension emerged a being they weren't even sure they could have ever dreamed, not even after the biggest, most uncoordinated, stomach-ache worthy supper of their lives.

Its elongated head was bone white, with red eyes and an enormous mouth of teeth; its body seemed at first deathly emaciated beneath the dark mantle, but a more careful look revealed that it was more or less only a skeleton - a metallic one at that, with incomplete hands and sharp feet, similar to the talons of a bird of prey.

Whatever the hell that thing was looked at them nice and long, taking them in one by one.

"Oh," he finally said, clanging his horrible teeth together in dismay: "Oh, you are hideous. Disgusting, even."

"Never look in a mirror then," Four quipped: "You'll get a heart attack."

"A mirror? Why would I do that? Ah, I see, I see, that's an insult, I understand - but you see, you horrible fleshy thing," the stranger replied with no apparent malice in his voice, in a rambling tone, "I have seen myself - well, not since this mask was fused to my head, but I have, and you will have to understand that while I do indeed have a horrendous face not even my own other half could love, you are made entirely of meat. Of flesh. Of organic material. No such thing as a piece of metal on your bodies except for your swords. No masks at all. Not even a glimmer of iron on you - although I do like your fabrics, I do, they'd make for quite a nice cape, and - oh, you do have armor, yes, you do, that you do... You won't mind me taking it all from you once I'm done killing you all, will you?"

The nine of them tightened the grip on their weapons, making them glint in the sunlight.

"I'll take it as a maybe."

Wind glared at him up and down a couple times: "What even are you?"

"A Skakdi, or the half of one, to be more precise," the being answered as if any of that made perfect sense. He turned to Time: "You should be shorter. And less meaty. And less appalling, but only slightly."

"Funny. I don't think we've ever met." the older warrior replied curtly.

"We haven't? Oh, I suppose we would not have, not here. Such a shame, truly. I didn't like that other you at all. I would have hoped not to meet another one in the next place I ended up in."

"Sucks to be you."

"Indeed it sucks."

"And you got a name?" pressed Four a little more rudely than usual. "Or at least half of one?"

The creature paused. His strange hand tapped on his chin pensively, as though he honestly needed to think about it for a couple seconds.

"A name, a name, a name..." he mumbled, until finally he seemed to remember: "Ah! Of course I do, of course. I gave it to me myself, after all - it's Vezon, with a Z, which means double, because I am a double, ripped away from a big blue brute, Vezok, also with a Z--"

"With a K," Sky corrected.

Legend elbowed him.

"What?" Vezon asked.

"Vezok with a K," Hyrule repeated helpfully.

Legend elbowed him as well.

From threatening and unpredictable, their opponent completely shifted his demeanor: now he stood a little hunched, arms limp down his sides, head tilted, face a bit scrunched into a confused expression.

"Yes, I do know Vezok is spelled with a K. My name is Vezon, though."

"You mentioned Vezon with a Z, but Vezok also has a Z." Sky explained.

"Yes, I know that too."

"That's not a difference."

"I'm aware. What is your point?

This time it was Hyrule who clarified: "If you don't want us to call you Vezok, you should specify that Vezon is spelled with an N and Vezok is spelled with a K."

"Why would I do that?"

"Because that's the difference between the two names. It sets them apart."

Vezon seemed floored.

"I did not think about that," he admitted. "That does seem more useful."

"This guy tells us upfront he wants to kill us to loot our corpses and you start arguing with him on spelling?" Warriors took the chance to hiss at his fellow heroes while the creature was distracted.

Sky raised his shoulders defensively: "It made no sense! It was bugging me!"

Wild, who had some amount of brain damage due to caramelizing for about a hundred years in the rebirth oil, decided he had enough experience on the matter to ask the half Skakdi with a hint of genuine concern: "Are you like. Alright?"

"Oh, yes!" the being replied: "I am insane."

That did explain a variety of things.

Skull Kid (who, as they were wont to do, had snuck away from their friends so quietly that their absence had gone completely undetected in order to investigate possibly deadly things on their own) sniffed at Vezon's arm. Based on their furrowed expression and squinted eyes, the scent was less than enjoyable.

The mechanical creature turned to them, and widened his awful grin.

"My dear! You still look the same! Sort of," he croaked out almost happily. His incomplete hand prodded at the wooden head, specifically interested in the mouth area: "You're still non organic. Mostly, I mean, you still have all that horrid plant-life on you, but you're not as immensely horrid as these fellows here... You are much shorter though. And much quieter. And you still don't have a mouth, do you? Ah, such a shame, such a shame, I was hoping in one of these universes you'd have a nice set of teeth for once, you know - maybe I would manage to rip them out of you nice and clean so I can jam them in your jaw once I finally get the chance to pry your skull open and-"

Skull Kid's razor sharp teeth bit down on his palm.

Vezon's head glowed suddenly: he barely had time to shriek a blood-curling A-- that he was already gone, disappearing in the fraction of a second.

The imp's teeth clattered close around the empty air. They looked around, confused.

Nope. The guy wasn't coming back.

"Well," Twilight hollered loudly to break the silence: "Guess that's over."

"Did the Goddesses just think it was getting a little chummy around here? Did they figure we were getting bored and so threw... That, at us?" Four wondered aloud in genuine bewilderment.

"He tastes like metal." Skull Kid informed them. "And he has tendons."

"That's great, Sweet Pea."

"I think I have some in my mouth."

"Ah, fuck-"

"Again?"

"Here, come over here..."

[adobe-outdesign]

Magikarp/gyarados review? 🐟🎏🐉

Magikarp is everyone's favorite useless fish, and it does a pretty damn good job at being a Useless Fish. I think the eyes really get this across well—this is a creature that absolutely only has a single brain cell bouncing around in there like a game of Pong, all right.

Visually, the design is pretty simple, but it does what it needs to. Like I said, the expression is spot-on, and the open mouth also adds something to it. The whiskers are nice, both carp-like but also reminiscent of eastern dragons, and the body has a distinctive bony shape that'll become even more prominent when it evolves into Gyarados.

The only thing that bugs me about it is the pink mouth; it looks disturbingly fleshy and adds another color that isn't needed. White or yellow would've worked much better. Also, I don't really think the lines under the bottom of the head were needed, but that's a very minor thing.

(Also, side note: this isn't needed in any capacity, but Magikarp was given some pretty neat patterns in the Magikarp Jump game. Some of them are completely different colors and look a bit too much like shinies, but the more koi-like ones are really cool and I wouldn't mind seeing them in an official game.)

The whole concept of a fundamentally weak and useless Pokemon evolving into something badass and powerful is a great concept, and Gyarados pulls it off very well. It's also a nod to the Chinese legends about how carp that managed to jump over waterfalls would become dragons, so that adds another layer to it. It's also probably based in part off of windsocks, hence the water/flying typing (keep in mind that in Gen 1, the dragon type was still considered to be rare and mythical).

Visually, I think Gyarados does a good job looking more powerful without being completely disassociated from it's pre-evo. Similar to the Dratini line, people seem to think the two stages have nothing in common, which isn't true at all. They both have:

"Lips" and wide open mouths

Whiskers

Three-pronged fin structures on the back

The fins near the head having an edge at the top and the tail having two edges

Segmenting of the body

A bony, rigid body structure

Gyarados changes color and gains a more serpentine body, but the visual elements and overall design remain shockingly similar so you can stop trying to say Gyarados and Dragonite were flipped just because Gyarados is long and blue, seriously if I see that "theory" one more time I am going to go apeshit on someone

Visually, you can definitely tell that this is a powerful Pokemon, and I love the shapes and detailing around the head. The repetition of the body segments helps to create a pattern, simplifying what would otherwise be a complex design.

The only nitpick I have is that it's strange that the whiskers are positioned under the head instead of by the mouth, which isn't a big deal but is hard to unsee once you see it. Also, the three prongs on the head would've worked better in cream or white. Otherwise, I have no complaints.

Gyarados also has a mega for no real reason, though at least with this one you can't argue it would've been better as a regular evo, as that would've defeated the point of the Entire Everything.

I don't think it adds much to the line, but the design itself isn't terrible. I do actually really like the massive back fins, which pop nicely and instantly gives a focus point to the design. Other than that, most of the design is just exaggerating things already on base Gyarados—longer whiskers, longer head ornament, long head fins, extra body fins, etc., which works to make it look more powerful.

However, I do have a few issues with it. Adding two colors to a previously two-color design feels like a bit much, and all three colors are too low contrast. I think the black was added to try to haphazardly justify the dark typing, but all the black areas could easily be cream/red without losing anything. Alternatively, making the red areas cream would've helped with the contrast; I'm not sure why they're there anyway, other than a tenuous connection to Magikarp. Here's a quick edit to show what I mean (original on left):

Also, it actually has two giant back fins. When I first saw it I thought it had one, and frankly I think that would look just as good but would've cut down on the clutter a bit. It doesn't look too bad from a side angle, but it's a bit much from the front:

I'm also not big on the two extra tail fins, as the bottom set interrupts the flow a bit (they're also more rounded than the main fins; some consistency would've been nice), and the spike under the chin feels random. Everything else, however, works well enough for what they were going for, and it's at least an interesting albeit pointless take on the original design.

Anyway, overall: the concept of a weak Pokemon suddenly getting super strong upon evolution is a good one, and this line handles it well. Magikarp is endearingly useless, and Gyarados has good contrast with it while still looking like they belong together. The mega isn't quite as good, but it's still a solid enough design as a whole minus some clutter and odd color choices.

[agbpaints]

Getting back into the swing of doing paint tutorials- I pulled a Spider out of a salvage box and I figured I'd do a quick and dirty davion scheme! This is the parade paint job for the First Davion Guards, AKA quintessential battletech 'good' guy mechs.

Paints you will need:

Black primer

Dark grey (citadel mechanicus standard grey)

Light grey (citadel dawnstone)

Off white (army painter spaceship armor)

Red (citadel mephiston red)

Light blue (citadel baharroth blue)

Green (citadel warpstone glow)

Gun metal (citadel leadbelcher)

Silver (citadel rune fang steel)

Dark wash (citadel drakenhof nightshade)

Citadel akhelian green cintrast

Citadel blood angels red contrast

Things you might want

Khaki (citadel zandri dust)

Fleshy orange (citadel ratskin flesh)

White (army painter matt white)

Dark green (citadel Caribana green)

Light red (citadel evil sunz scarlet)

Yellow (citadel averland sunset)

Black (army painter matt black)

Citadel aggaros dunes contrast

I started by basing my mini with my normal desert badlands basing scheme (paint base in glue, sprinkle on basing sand and let cure. Paint on more glue and stick down some aquarium gravel) and then priming the whole thing black with brush-on primer.

Once the primer is finished drying, load some of your dark grey up on a fat drybrush, wipe off slightly less than most of the paint, and then apply the remainder to the model in long up and down strokes. All of the panels should be grey, with some black showing in crevices and hard to reach recesses of the model. Next, repeat this process with your light grey paint, but wipe off more and apply less liberally- you want the darker grey color to remain in most places with the edges and raised details highlighted in grey. Finally, drybrush the model one last time with your off-white color only in the areas that will catch the light most like the head, torso, shoulders, the vectoring fins on the mech's back, and the outstretched left knee.

Now that the mech has been presented in greyscale, we can make it blue. Akhelian green is going to be doing the majority of the heavy lifting in this paint scheme- I find it to be a pretty easy contrast paint to work with. Apply it undiluted to the model, looking to spread it in a single coat like a thick wash, and then leave it to dry for 20 minutes. Afterwards, you might want to brighten the blue up in places as I did- drybrush on some light blue in the same areas you used off-white earlier.

At this point, I got a little excited and decided to do the Davion stripes. Start with your red, pretty well thinned on your palet, and a thin detail brush. To make this easy on ourselves, we're going to look for vertical panels on the left side of the mech's torso and leg and basically connect all of those with a straight line. In the case of the Spider, the easy ones are the shoulder and that panel that runs down the upper thigh. Apply a thin edge highlight of red along those panels and then carefully continue the line down the rest of the leg, terminating at the ankle. If your hand is steady enough, run a thin line of red around the mech's ankle where the vertical line ends. Then, go back with your off-white and using the red line you made already as a guide, run a parallel stripe down the outside edge of the red (if you swap these battletech nerds will dunk on you online).

At this point, I also striped the ridge running down the Spider's helmet, but it's not super necessary.

Now that we've got our blue sorted out, we've got a bit of a 'draw the rest of the owl' step. First, you're going to want to go back over any of the parts of the model that you want to be exposed mechanical elements with your dark grey. I painted the joints in the legs, the shoulders, the lasers and the big vent on the chest, the 'chin strap' under the spider's canopy glass, and the jump jets in this color. Then, wash the grey with your favorite dark wash- I really like the deep blue of drakenhof nightshade but something like nuln oil will also work well for this. Finally, apply a light drybrush of your light grey to the shaded grey. If a part is too recessed to easily drybrush, you can leave it as is or do use a small brush to carefully highlight it. You should also add a small dot of green to the inside of each of the laser barrels at this point.

Next, paint the mech's canopy glass silver. Once that's dry, paint over the silver with blood angels red or any other colorful contrast paint for a vibrant metallic color.

If you're following along with my desert basing, paint the sand on the base khaki and the larger pebbles with your fleshy orange. Then paint over everything with agarros dunes contrast or a dark brown wash like agrax earthshade.

And with that you have a Spider that's fully ready for tabletop with 3 colors, shading, and a textured base. There's still a couple more things we can do if you have more time and patience that I'll detail below.

To apply some quick and dirty jeweling to the lasers, start by painting a half circle of light green on each barrel, focused on one of the bottom corners. Paint the recess of the barrel with a dot of dark green and put a tiny little dot of white opposite the half circle of green, which should now be more of a crescent shape with with dark spot in the center.

While the white is still in your pallet, you can also highlight the parts of the off white stripes on the mech most exposed to overhead light like the lower thigh, knee, and shoulder. Do the same thing with the red stripe using a light red as well.

At this point I also added unit numbering to the mech's shoulder. Basic numbers are a really good way to practice your fine control and I try to consistently add a couple to each of my projects. Use your off-white well thinned and a fine detail brush, lock your hand holding the model against your hand holding the brush just below the wrists, and then draw the paintbrush 'downwards' with a pulling motion. This should keep you your line relatively straight and fine.

While you can keep the jump jets on your mech dark I prefer to paint mine with some orange in them. Using the fleshy orange from earlier, paint most of the interior of each jump jet, then add a dot of yellow at the very deepest recess of each one.

Finally, let's add some hazard stripes to the mech. Pick out a few areas near joints or vents that seem like a bad place for an Astech's hand to go and paint in a thick 'edge highlight' of black. Then, going back to yellow find the center of the line and add a diagonal tickmark there. You may need to go over this more than twice to get a strong color depending on your yellow. Once your centerline is marked, work out towards the edges, painting another ticmark at regular intervals until you hit the ends of the Black.