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wizardhugs · 1 month

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🇵🇸 art drive for palestine 🇵🇸

i would like to make a simple, silly, low-poly blender model + render of whatever you'd like for anyone who donates the equivalent of 9USD to any of these campaigns for gaza evacuation. [ use a currency converter here! ]

examples for the drive -- my silly artfight -- (old!) my earlier renders -- above art is mine

these are all accounts and people who have reached out to me via tumblr askbox. i have checked each myself for verification, and provided links to vetted status below. unvetted (as of making this list) fundraisers are new, and do not yield results with reverse image searches. i've also included any instagram accounts i could easily find, for extra proof of validity.

@somaiahassansworld and @lobnaalser: gfm, vetted here, 0% of 50,000 EUR

@ahmadelser: gfm, vetted here, 4% of 50,000 EUR

@dodoomar12345: gfm, vetted here, 45% of 300,000 SEK

@ayoosh-gaza: gfm, vetted here, 1% of 200,000 USD

@danaghaith: gfm, vetted here, 12% of 60,000 USD

@falestine-yousef: gfm, vetted here, 34% of 40,000 USD

@abd-88-mazen: gfm, 4% of 80,000 CAD

@keensaladbanana: gfm, 3% of 350,000 NOK

@bilalassadabedrou: gfm, vetted here, 10% of 80,000 EUR

@asmaayyad and @esraayyad14: gfm, vetted here, ig @asmaa_ayyad98, 25% of 45,000 EUR

@salem-baker: gfm, vetted here, 16% of 38,000 EUR

@omargaze: gfm, vetted here, ig @jody_toys, 24% of 20,000 GBP

@osamathaers-blog: gfm, 2% of 50,000 EUR

@mahmoudswierh2: gfm, vetted here, 44% of 15,000 CAD

@samarsh97: gfm, vetted here, ig @samar.sh97, 12% of 45,000 EUR

@adham-89: gfm, vetted here, 23% of 50,000 USD

@abdelmutei: gfm, vetted here, ig @sh.imaa6245, 42% of 25,000 EUR

@ahmadresh: gfm, vetted here, 78% of 10,000 USD

@alaakh2025: gfm, #99 here, 49% of 56,000 GBP

@yazanfamilly: gfm, vetted here, 22% of 50,000 EUR

@saveranafamily: gfm, 2% of 50,000 EUR

@hayanahed: gfm, #26 here, 78% of 100,000 EUR

@palestinianhadeel: gfm, vetted here, 27% of 20,000 EUR

@fidaa-family2: gfm, vetted here, 51% of 30,000 USD

@safaabed8: gfm, vetted here, 31% of 90,000 EUR

@amnyaburas: gfm, 0% of 68,000 CAD

@aya2mohammed: gfm, vetted here, 51% of 50,000 EUR

@kefahfamily: gfm, 2% of 40,000 USD

@bshaeromars-blog: gfm, #231 here, 37% of 40,000 USD

@sameer-family: gfm, vetted here, 4% of 50,000 USD

@noorabd1992: gfm, vetted here, 19% of 45,000 USD

@ahmedomer9: gfm, vetted here, 2% of 50,000 EUR

@hatem1790: gfm, vetted here, 0% of 45,000 EUR

@hazemsuhail: gfm, vetted by association, 5% of 50,000 EUR

@help-mona: gfm, vetted, 0% of 185,300 EUR

@husseinshamia: gfm, vetted, ig @hussein_shamia_, 88% of 40,000 USD

@amalashuor: gfm, vetted #175, 75% of 50,000 EUR

@eyad-alanqar255: gfm, vetted here, 2% of 40,000 EUR

@mahaibrahim13: gfm, vetted here, 8% of 81,000 GBP

@abedallhferwanagaza: gfm, vetted here, 14% of 35,000 EUR

@savethaerfamily: gfm, vetted here, 1% of 20,000 EUR

if i have made any mistakes, PLEASE reach out so i may fix. i will not interact with trolls/bad faith/zionists.

please consider donation or reblogging. terms for art drive below the cut.

to get a silly art:

donate to one of the above campaigns, 9 USD or more (currency converter here), reblog their posts, help someone.

send me a dm with proof of donation to one of these gfms, something like this is fine.

then let me know what you're interested in, and keep simplicity in mind.

treat me with respect! note that i may take some time to get back to you now and again.

and please keep in mind: i am not a professional, i do this for fun, i've never even really posted my art here before. i am offering silly art because it's something i feel i have to give.

i will communicate to you if i don't feel your initial request is something i can do, and i'll offer alternatives or adjustments.

i will do:

simple shapes + low poly models.

custom textures.

simple animations [rotations, blinking, waving, etc].

shitposts, goofs, sillies. explosions!

want me to make your oc or something related to/representative of them? references are great!

want me to do a fandom character or something related to them? let me know what you like most about them!

your favorite mug? a stuffed animal? an abstract concept? i will do my best, that sounds awesome.

alternative to 3d renders, i do silly pastel pfps! examples here -- i'm honestly really desperate to help fundraise.

i will probably post whatever i create for you as an image (GIF or PNG), and tag you, unless you ask me not to (or to keep you anonymous). i work in blender and can provide a .blend project file, or other exported formats/assets!

posted august 23rd, 2024, edited/extended august 25th, further extended august 30th. more campaigns added + pfp note september 20th.

#palestine #free palestine #artists on tumblr #my artwork #my art #digital art #3d art #donations #mutual aid #fundraising #colored text #squawks #commissions #art commissions #open commissions

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cupcakeslushie · 17 days

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First || Prev || …

Here’s the next part of the Kendratello AU! I knew it was going to be very dialogue heavy, so I figured writing it out would be fast, but I’m so ready to be done with it that I’ve not really beta read it. So I apologize for any errors. But enjoy!

Splinter loves his sons, but these last few days have been eating away at his already shriveled and fraying nerves. Watching his children ambling around their home, for months, each in varying states of anxiety, fear, and distress, hasn’t been easy on his old heart.

They’ve been through so much, experienced more hardships than Splinter has ever wanted for them. But the latest crucible tearing his family apart was caused, not by some ancient demon, or world-ending threat—but a fiendishly smart, young woman.

One who’d kidnapped his son and replaced him with a stranger that Splinter hardly recognized.

The bitter tale is too familiar for the old movie star to painlessly swallow. It seems fate played such cruel tricks sometimes. Always seeming to strike harsher the second go around. With outcomes even more brutal and painful. His son was stolen by a hateful, sadistic woman, and kept locked away, until she was satisfied with the new toy that emerged from the shadows.

So it stands to reason how…relieved Splinter had been that one, early morning. When his three sons had pulled Purple into his bedroom, piling into his bed, nothing but wide eyes and panicked shouting; one over the other. Looking back now, he can recognize how short-sighted his quick relief had been. But in the moment, as a father, Splinter had only seen this new, strange development as a blessing.

Donatello might have been confused, and irritated with his brother’s manhandling, but Splinter could clearly see more life in those eyes than he’d witnessed in months. Splinter had shushed the rest, and spoken to Purple directly, finally getting a better grasp on what his sons were shouting about.

Amnesia.

So, of course, relief. Because how could forgetting all those horrible, tortuous weeks in that woman’s grasp, possibly be a bad thing? By some miracle, Splinter’s boy had been returned to him. Nowhere near that frail ghost of Donatello, which Splinter would sometimes find curled up on the floor of his own lab, screaming Kendra’s name and sobbing to be returned to her care.

He had been spared all of that, like it never happened. Their family had been handed a gift, and Splinter truthfully wasn't interested in the whys of it all…

Until Michelangelo chose to contact Draxum, and words like “brain damage” and “tumor” were thrown into the mix.

An entire day of testing yielded…varying results. They were able to rule out the scariest of options. No dark shadows were seen in the X-rays of his son’s beautifully brilliant brain, and no concerning squiggles were pointed out by the Hidden City doctors who studied the fast moving waves appearing on the EEG. It was all a bunch of nonsense to Splinter, but Donatello nodded like he agreed, when he was handed the papers over to inspect himself.

Everything was normal, physically.

That left the most difficult part of the day. Getting his son to speak to a psychiatrist—seriously, and without snarking back at every possible question he would eventually be asked.

Draxum had thankfully picked a good one. Briefing her beforehand on…everything. She seemed prepared for Purple’s special brand of cynicism. The sheep yokai was apparently at the top of her field.

A tentative diagnosis of “dissociative amnesia” had been given, along with a small number of pamphlets and printouts. The doctor had informed Splinter that certain treatments might improve Donatello’s situation, but no cure had been discovered for something like this.

They would just have to take things one day at a time. And they’d been doing so well. Almost like everything was back to normal.

Splinter had become very good at ignoring that pending feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. He smiled at his sons every day onward, like nothing was wrong. And all of them, in return, began falling back into a more comfortable ease around each other. The stress had just been starting to loosen in Red’s shoulders and jaw. Orange was giving real, honest smiles again. And Blue was no longer a shadow around corners, hiding from Purple like a bomb he was scared to set off.

But the other shoe that had been the root of Splinter’s dread, finally dropped, and the rug was pulled from under their feet once more, violently, with no warning.

Even after they’d managed to calm Donatello down. There was no negotiating the terms of his reality, and he was stubbornly convinced that the world around him was fabricated. Without caring about the consequences, he refused to be civil towards any of them, treating them all like jesters in a play, where no one had the script.

The family’s usual process for dealing with Purple’s anger–letting him cool off alone in his lab until he collected his thoughts–was unfeasible this time around.

Splinter didn’t think he could ever forget the image of his son, turning the knife he held in his hands inwards, and threatening to end his own life.

No; leaving him alone was not an option.

Which led back to Splinter’s previously mentioned frayed nerves.

Four days into this new, stressful change, and his genius son was still managing to find creative ways to sneak past their watchful eyes. Six attempts, in total. Each time, caught with seconds to spare, and just as traumatic for everyone involved.

Raphael and Michelangelo at the moment, were going through their home, removing every sharp implement they could find. Anything that could possibly be used to “put an end to the loop” that Donatello was convinced he was stuck in.

While the two performed their important task, Blue and Splinter had the harder of the two jobs; watching Purple.

Splinter was currently sitting comfortably in his chair, but it was far from his usual level of relaxation. Despite plenty of bean bags to occupy, the twins were locked in a shoving match. For some reason, they were fighting over the single, smallest one they must’ve owned.

“If you don’t get out of my personal space, I swear to Oppenheimer you will regret it, Leonardo!”

“And I swear to Ryan Renolds, that I’ll shred all of your softest hoodies if you kick me in the nuts one more time!”

“That Barbenheimer joke doesn’t even make sense, you idiot, that was Ryan Gosling!”

“Who mentioned Barbie? I’m talking about Deadpool and Wolverine!”

“What does that movie have to do with anything?!”

“Fuck dude, what did I just say about nut shots!”

“Then get out of my kicking radius, and your non-existent nuts will be safe!”

“BOYS!”

Both his sons quickly pause their arguing, giving their father their undivided attention.

“Leonardo, go help your brothers.” Splinter demands. “I will watch Purple. He has not had a moment of free time from any of you in days, and it is clearly wearing on all of us.” Blue gives his father one of his patented unimpressed stare downs.

“No offense, Pops, but how is you watching him, any different than me?”

“Because I will sit in my chair, and Purple will scroll on his phone, and there will be quiet.” Splinter can’t stand the bickering any longer. He knows both his sons will benefit from this time apart. It’s just convincing Blue of that.

Donatello’s gaze is boring holes into the back of Leonardo’s head while his second oldest son matches Splinter’s scrutiny. The rat can see the need for some fresh air battling against Blue’s desire to stay close. But Leonardo is his sharpest son, and even he can admit that his constant presence has become too grating for his brother.

“You need to watch him like a hawk, Dad,” Leo glares at his twin out of the corner of his gaze, “sometimes you can get a little…distracted.”

The new projector, playing Splinter’s same old programs, flashes against the curtain hung on the wall. The volume is set to low, but Blue still looks pointedly between his father and the screen. Splinter doesn’t blame him for his concern, so he tries to put all the gravity he can into his tone, enough that when he does promise to stay vigilant, it seems to convince Blue to place his trust in him.

Purple stays quiet through the exchange, only breathing a sigh of relief once his brother is long past the threshold of the den. He looks ready to lean back into his hard won pillows, but Splinter realizes that Blue had something of a point. Donatello is positioned quite far from him, and he’s suddenly nervous about catching something in time.

“Purple, how about you come sit with me.” Splinter suggests it kindly but firmly, and with a smile– so his son can’t refuse. He pats the bit of cushion next to his legs, “I will honor my promise to leave you alone, but I would be much more relaxed if you were within my reach.”

His boy merely blinks at him, blank faced, and staring at the very spot that Splinter has just created for him.

It isn’t as though his recliner is small, even if Splinter himself is. Donatello had custom made it for him, after one too many complaints about his old brown one hurting his back. It practically swallows Splinter, but remains just stiff enough to provide plenty of support for his lower back. He could even lay sideways and still have some space to stretch.

Splinter recalls very clear memories of all his sons fighting for a spot by his side when they were younger. But it has been some time since those days…perhaps Donatello thinks he’s far too old for such a thing as sitting by his aging father. Yoshi remembers himself at eighteen, and shudders. He’s forever thankful that no matter how lacking his parenting skills might have been, that his boys are kinder to him than he ever was to his Jiji.

Donatello pulls at some invisible thread of his black leggings. Since this new alteration of his memories, Purple has taken to wearing more layers. It’s nearing fall, but not nearly cold enough for the large sweatshirt, black leggings AND socks that his son is currently donning.

Splinter just barely hears Purple murmur a jumbled, “Huh?”

Splinter catches some sort of emotion actively being suppressed behind the bewildered shock at his offer, but it’s hard to tell what it is. Over the years Splinter is ashamed to say, he has grown very bad at reading his own children. Especially Purple, who, if he was being honest, has always been very hard to decipher.

Splinter starts to think the offer will be rejected, when Purple finally climbs to his feet and ambles slowly over. The unknown emotion skittering at the edge of Donatello’s expression morphs into something closer to suspicion. This one easy to identify, especially when it practically drips from his next words.

“Trying to endear yourself to me won’t sway me into falling for your tricks.”

The barb is said just as unkindly as everything else Purple has thrown at his family these last few days. Splinter lets it slide off him like water. He knows his son would (probably) never speak to him like that if he wasn’t stuck in such a painfully clear mode of survival and uncertainty.

“Yes, yes.” He says, untroubled. “Come sit and I can finally lean my chair back.”

Donatello watches him the entire time as he cautiously settles into his spot. He yelps when Splinter grabs his ankles and pulls his son’s long (thin, still much too thin) legs across his lap. For an instant, Splinter freezes, growing worried he’s overstepped. The act had been done without a thought. It’s the way Purple has always liked to sit, finding it more comfortable than any other way. Donatello preferred to keep his distance. A deviation from his siblings, for sure.

Michelangelo would press as close as possible, two sides smushed together like a hug, only without the constricting limbs (though, if Orange were ever to fall asleep in Splinter’s chair, those too would eventually find their way to catching him in their hold).

Leonardo preferred to sit on the arm of his chair, never staying still for long enough to find a comfortable position. But when he slumbered, after a long night of binge watching Novela’s with Splinter–he would curl up, head in his father’s lap, limbs held tight to his body. Like he was afraid even that was asking for too much.

Raphael, his poor, eldest son, hadn’t sat with him in so long. Splinter could still remember a little turtle tot in red, climbing up and splaying out onto his lap when he needed a good cry–or just a moment of peace from his much too loud siblings. Sadly, it wasn’t long before his Red was too big, and his father too small to provide such a refuge. The last time Raphael needed consoling; after the Krang, Splinter had been forced to climb up onto his own son’s knees in order to reach and wipe away his tears.

In the few rare instances of Purple seeking out physical touch, this was all he would allow. Legs stretched over his father’s lap, but his upper body was always off limits. Pulled just far enough away from the threat of any sort of long term contact.

Splinter used to wonder if Purple was scared to ask for anything more, like Leonardo, or if he thought depriving himself of a comforting hug would make him seem stronger, like Raphael, or even the rare times when Michelangelo wished to appear more mature and refused to be comforted. Eventually, Splinter caught on to the truth. His son was asking for comfort, in his own unique way. He was content with the minimal amount of closeness, as long as he felt like he was able to dictate the terms.

But one thing Purple would always allow his father to do, was loop his fingers around his ankles. Trusting the grip would hold his legs in place and keep him stable. He once said the pressure was small enough that it wasn’t overwhelming, but strong enough that it could ground him when everything became too much.

Even now, the act of reaching out to pull his son’s long legs up had been so instinctive. When Splinter looks over and sees the uncertainty still on Purple’s face, he knows he’s pushed too far too quickly.

It’s a risky move, but he’s already pushed, and it’s something that never fails, not once since he’s discovered it.

Purple has always been the most ticklish of all his brothers. Another thing that never really helped his sensory issues. But Splinter long ago discovered that there was a particular spot, which could always earn him a giggle and a brighter smile.

Splinter grips the meat of Donatello’s right knee and jiggles it back and forth. The silly action seems to do the trick and knocks something loose in his son’s overwrought head. His gamble pays off spectacularly, and Splinter is overjoyed to see a small smile erase most of the uncertainty clouding Donatello’s face. It isn’t a full peal of laughter, but the wariness makes way for something softer, and the huff of air from his nose is just as rewarding as a full body laugh.

His boy rests his shoulder and head onto the cushioned back of the chair and Splinter presses the button that will lift up the leg rest, and recline them both into a more restful position.

After a few moments of quiet, Donatello slowly pulls his phone from the pocket of his hoodie. Even without looking directly at him, Splinter can feel his son watching and waiting for the reprimand he thinks will come. Instead, Splinter raises the volume of his show just loud enough for him to hear, but not enough to completely shatter their peace. He wants to make Purple feel more at ease; like he’s not being constantly surveilled–not providing more overstimulation.

They sit like that for some time. Splinter rubs a thumb back and forth across the meatier part of Donatello's calves. He’s learned that repetitive touch is the best kind of grounding technique for Purple. The patterned motion always worked to calm his nerves.

Even still, after only so long Splinter catches Purple lowering his phone.

He keeps his own gaze forward, locked on his commercials. Splinter can see, without looking, that his son is studying him, trying to take apart something in his mind that he doesn’t understand. Splinter allows him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts.

Finally Purple speaks, “Dad…?” It’s so quiet, if Splinter hadn't been waiting for it, he might’ve missed it.

He pauses the repetitive kneading for just a moment, squeezing his hold, and humming in order to prompt his son to continue his thought.

“Can I tell you something?” The inquiry is whispered to him so delicately. It takes everything in him to keep his face open and soft and his movements steady. It’s clear that Donatello is trying his best to remain aloof, but his gaze is locked on his hands that are settled in his lap, the fingers of one pulling on the digits from his other.

At some point he must’ve put his phone completely away. Splinter feels the pressure of having Donatello's complete focus aimed at him.

The tugging intensifies. Splinter wonders if he should reach out, but he’s not sure how well that would be received. It doesn’t look painful just yet.

“I don't know what Kendra is accomplishing by showing me this.” Donatello growls, suddenly digging his palms into his eyes like he can still feel the weight of the screen blocking his vision. “Trying to make me happy, only to rip it all away from me? Or attempting to make me feel, even more like a useless burden than I was?”

It’s the first crack in his armor that Purple has shown in days. A clear sign that he was not as unaffected by Kendra’s lies as he’d been trying to project. Donatello sighs, but as it dies out Splinter thinks it sounds closer to a sob.

“You can’t tell the others…” Donatello looks at him with wet, desperate eyes, and it’s unclear if his son still doubts who he’s speaking to, but Splinter works to ease his fears all the same.

“I swear, whatever you tell me will remain between us, alone.”

Donatello nods faintly, eyes trailing downwards once more. Splinter may have had trouble before, but now the many emotions jumping across his son’s face—fear, shame, frustration, all are easy to catch.

With a shaking breath he whispers his secret. “I lied.” He’s crying now, real tears that he doesn’t even bother to wipe away. The pulling at his skin grows more violent, and Splinter finally interferes to carefully pry Donatello’s hands apart before damage is done. In place he cradles his son’s hands like delicate porcelain and runs a thumb over Donatello’s palm.

“I told everyone that I could tell. That I wasn’t being fooled, but that’s not exactly true. The last few loops have…it’s been getting harder, and harder to remember things— how they really happened. Too much is…plausible.”

Splinter keeps silent. This confession has clearly been weighing on Donatello. He deserves to get it all out, and hopefully feel lighter for it. Even if Purple suspects the family, something is letting Donatello open up enough for him to share his fears.

“There was one loop…Mikey broke…he broke the remote…When I said I didn’t have time to fix it. He threw the pieces at my head. He would never do that, though…right?”

“No, of course not,” Splinter answers immediately, quick to banish the doubt from his son’s mind. Donatello only blinks at him, like his thoughts are moving too slow, and cannot comprehend such a simple, stark contradiction to what he experienced.

“It felt so real…it all feels so real. But…I could feel how one of the sharp, broken corners had cut through my mask and how the wet fabric stuck to my skin with blood.”

Donatello raises a hand and touches the spot where the phantom wound must’ve sat. The pain now gone, but the memory of it haunts his eyes and rattles the tremors building in his hands.

“I thought…I thought I was handling this—maybe not well…But I’d hoped I would be strong enough to last until you all came for me…And now Raph is saying it’s already over.”

It’s a simplified form of the truth which they had tried to get Purple to believe, but even that much clearly doesn’t sit well with him. “If it is over, why does my body feel like one massive bruise? How did you all find me? How long did I last? Was I in there long enough to…?”

He’s clearly scared to ask Splinter any more questions, so he trails off, curling in on himself and pulling his hands up to his chest, pressing there, as if checking to make sure he feels something still beating.

Splinter decides he’s waited long enough and slowly pulls Donatello out of his hunched ball and guides his head to his own chest, making sure his ear is aligned against his own pulsing heartbeat.

Donatello resists slightly at first, but the moment he’s close enough to catch the sound, his breath catches and he glues himself to the spot.

“I don’t want to be there anymore,” Purple murmurs. It sounds like sleep is catching up with his son, the exhaustion pulling him down and slurring his words.

Splinter cups the back of Donatello’s head and carefully tug his fur lined blanket down from where it’s been sitting on the back of his chair. The blanket slots over the both of them and Donatello curls even closer to his father, tucking himself into his warmth.

“Go to sleep, when you wake up, you will be right here.” He’s sure to say it softly but with as much reassurance as possible, and Donatello seems too tired at this point to hold onto his doubts.

“Okay…,” Donatello mutters. Then, practically hanging on to the waking world for one final query hesitantly asks, “…Dad?…Do you love me?”

Splinter doesn’t even think. “Of course, my son.”

Donatello’s breathing finally evens out, and Splinter feels a few tears finally escape.

He’s not sure what next steps they should take, or what kind of state his son will be in when he wakes, but Splinter can only hope this is progress. He prays it won’t be undone…but regardless, Donatello is home. Any steps back or forward will be taken together, and that is the most important part.

#kendratello au #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise donnie #rise splinter #rise leo #tw brainwashing #slushie writes

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theoldsports · 5 months

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In an alternate universe where art wasn’t involved in such a toxic situation, what would college art be like as a boyfriend? I’d love to hear your thoughts!

I feel like he’d be open to just about anyone as long as they had a good personality and a good heart. It wouldn’t matter if they played tennis or not; he’d love them for them and hope they’d love him just the same. Idk just some thoughts 💭 😚

Art is the boy that has had a broken heart one too many times and too much shit talked about him for him to run around hurting someone directly on purpose. He is, as far as college athlete relationships go, an exceptional boyfriend.

Art’s major is also Physics. It’s Physics. No arguments.

His girl parties? He’ll show out if it doesn’t ruin his game/practice schedule that weekend. His girl hates parties? They’ll stay in.

As a matter of fact, Art’s probably gonna swing for a girl that’s not a tennis player, but kindly tennis-curious. He likes having someone to teach about the game. And to mutually learn about her world and interests.

He’s probably gonna pull a talker. Art is a talker when he’s with another talker, but he has a hard time with other more reserved folks day in and day out.

Once he starts talking though, Art’s going to keep talking.

The kid knows he has a difficult schedule, but he’s going to want to spend time with his girl. Just the walking between places, having lunch, going to Target, studying, catching a cigarette behind the athletics complex kind of time. Those are the best moments of his day.

Art is going to ask to move into an off-campus apartment with his girl way sooner than is rational. Dealing with thin walls, squeaky lofted beds and roommates doesn’t yield a healthy relationship necessarily.

He loves staying in bed all day with her. Just laying there and chatting.

Unfortunately, he’s a really early riser. Art was conditioned to be. On school days, he’s very oh, yeah, I go up at six, ran a mile and had some toast. You want coffee? There’s some on the counter. Like that’s a normal way to be.

His media comprehension for plots in movies isn’t high. Movie nights are kind of wait, I don’t get why it’s call Ocean’s Eleven. So Art gets a lot of that explained to him and he… likes having the little things explained to him like he’s stupid. It’s funny, because he’s so fucking smart that his girl always wondered if he was faking it for attention…

Art’s dreadful when he’s sick. He’s not gonna try and push through it. He’s going to lay there and be useless when he’s ill. He wants to be taken care of.

Fundamentally supportive. There is nothing Art will not do to help his girl. Nothing.

He’s helpful with STEM-based homework.

Hand-holder. Art likes leading his girl from place to place. Or maybe being led is more apt.

He’s a lost puppy. His biggest flaw is being too loyal. This could result in brash, clinginess. Not all too bad or traumatic.

Art is a realist. So when he fantasizes with his girl about the future, that is what he wants. This relationship isn’t a joke or some game of chase.

This relationship is the thing that gets him fired up. He will stop at nothing to keep it nice through the good and bad times.

(He also understands that not every time is a good time. He will stay through the shitty moments too)

Art is dreamy. He really, truly is.

#ask #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #art donaldson #challengers movie

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creamsickle-writes · 1 year

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Doctor's Orders: Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Tags: nsfw, role-playing, innocence play/ddlg (no use of Daddy, but similar dynamic?), doctor/patient roleplay, penetrative sex, oral sex, fingering, light degradation, and overstim

Law was pretty fickle when it came to sex.

Sometimes he would tease you, suggesting intimate time alone as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. On other days, you would mess with him relentlessly, using dirty words and well-timed touches to get your way.

Sometimes he would cave.

Sometimes he wouldn't.

This inconsistency was rather irritating at times.

It had been some time since you last had sex, and your urges were starting to get the better of you. You let out a loud sigh, hoping Law would put down his book for the night, but he didn't even shuffle.

You pause before letting out another dramatic sigh, flopping on your back as you lay on his bed, looking over at him as he sat at his desk. You puffed your cheeks out; okay, so you would have to be more direct.

You rise from the bed and waltz over to your boyfriend.

"Lawww…." You draw out, leaning over his shoulder as he reads the umpteenth thick medical book of the evening, "I'm bored; let's do something!"

Your stiff, stoic boyfriend doesn't budge an inch or even turn to look your way. He only grumbles something under his breath before going silent again. You aren't satisfied with that response, so you poke his cheek as you angle yourself over his seated form.

And when that doesn't get you a response, you keep poking and prodding his face until he lets out a frustrated sound.

"I'm busy right now. Go entertain yourself." He shoos you off, but you only lean in further, your chin resting on his head as you wrap your arms around his shoulders from behind.

"But Lawwwww-"

Law groans in annoyance and refuses to take his eyes off his book, "You're so damn irritating. Don't you have anything better to do?"

"Mmn," you pout your lips, "Not right now, no."

He scowls but refuses to close the book, his dark eyes raking through long paragraphs of text accompanied by technical images of the body.

The content of his book reminds you of something that always catches his interest.

"Mister Doctor…"

You feel him stiffen up under your touch; those magic words that always yielded the result you wanted were about to work their magic.

"Don't start. I'm busy-"

"C'mon, let's play doctor together again…" you purr, your hands dipping lower as they run down his chest. You move your head so your lips are next to her ear, "That could be fun, right? You love when I act all cute when we play… And it's been so long-"

"It's only been a week-" He groans again, but this time it's not just pure annoyance; underlying arousal is also hidden in that sound, "You're insatiable."

Your lips curl into a smile as you know it'll only take one more tiny push.

"C'mon, please?" You beg so sweetly, pitching your voice slightly as you whine, "My body feels weird. I need a doctor to look at it…"

There's a long pause before he speaks.

"Well, if you're actually feeling unwell, then I could take a look…"

You unwrap your arms from his body, taking a few steps back as he rises from his chair. When he turns to face you, his deep dark eyes stare straight through you. He knows you're full of shit and perfectly healthy, but he'd rather pretend he's concerned instead of admitting that he was getting aroused from the mental image you put in his head. After all, he knew perfectly well how this scenario would play out.

"Get on the bed," he starts, "Sit on the edge."

You hop up on his bed, sitting straight with your hands on your lap. He picks up his wooden chair from his desk and positions it in front of you, the chair's legs parallel to the bed now. He sits in it, leaning back slightly as he looks you over.

"So, what's wrong with you this time, huh?"

He looks down at you, his face unchanging. He's hard to read, what with that stoic expression he always wears, but you can see the faintest bit of a blush on his cheeks.

"Oh, it's awful," you draw out, letting out an exaggerated sigh, "Between my legs, it feels strange…"

He hums before looking you over, "I'll need more information than that… You might need to strip down for me so I can examine the area completely…"

"Yes, Doctor…" you smirk before lifting your dress over your head and removing your panties. Law hums in approval as you sit completely nude before him. His eyes rake over your body, and you can see the lust in them despite his controlled expression.

"Lay back and relax. The exam will be over before you know it..."

You obey his orders and lay back in the bed, your legs dangling off the edge, "Is it gonna hurt?"

Law spreads your thighs before instructing you to prop your feet on the bed, making your legs bend at the knee. Your sensitive areas are now on display for him, and you're shaking slightly, eager for him to just start touching you. You crane your neck to look at him. To the average observer, his face is cold, calculating, and unbothered, but, as his partner, you recognize the look in his eyes.

He wants to break you and see you come undone by his fingers alone.

"It depends… Has anyone ever touched you here?" He asks gently, his fingers brushing over your slit slowly.

You shake your head immediately, and he clicks his tongue," I see. Then yes, it might just hurt…"

You play the part of the innocent, blushing girl he loves so desperately.

"Mister Doctor… please be as gentle as possible!"

He hums softly before his fingers trace over your already wet slit. His brows furrow in mock concentration, his calloused fingers spreading your lips slightly.

"Do you know where exactly it feels off? Is it here..?" He inquires, running his fingers over your swollen vaginal lips.

You shake your head, "Nuh uh, it feels weird here…"

You take his hand and guide his fingertips to your clit. His deep eyes flicker toward your face, his face like stone, "Do you know what that's called?"

"No, Mister Doctor…" you say, turning up the charm and innocence, "Could you teach me?"

"That's your clitoris…" he explains plainly, "But you can also call it a clit…"

Your hair stands on end as his fingers hover over your nub; he had only briefly touched it for a moment when you guided his fingers there, but he quickly retracted his digits, teasing you. He wanted to deny you of touch for as long as possible.

"And here…" his fingers move south from your clit to your entrance, his fingers circling the rim, "This is the vaginal opening… and yours seems very wet right now…"

"I-It keeps getting wet, Doctor…" you say meekly, "I don't know why…"

"Can you tell me when it gets wet?" He prods verbally, pulling his hand away, "Does it happen when you do anything specific?"

“It happens when… I think about you, Doctor…”

His cheeks flush darker, and he lowers his hat, obstructing his eyes, "Well, that's no good…"

"What?" You sit up, propping yourself up with your arms, "What is it, Mister Doctor?"

Law shakes his head, looking up at you with a deadly serious expression, "You might need some special treatment to get rid of this. It's not a permanent solution, but it'll help…"

You giggle to yourself; he always took role-playing so seriously. It was super cute.

"What's the treatment?" You tilt your head innocently.

Law leans forward again, his hands resting on your shins, "I'll have to give you a few orgasms. That should hold you over until your next visit…"

"An orgasm?"

He blushes even further at your pretend innocence as he gets up from the chair, moving it away from the bed, "Don't tell me you don't know that word either…"

You shake your head, and he clicks his tongue, his figure towering over you, "Okay, let me ask this then: when it gets wet, do you ever touch down there?"

"Sometimes…" you shyly admit, "It feels good when I touch my clit…"

"Well, when that good feeling reaches its peak, that's an orgasm…"

You nod, acting like you've been taught a new word and concept. You're surprised when Law sinks to his knees, 'examining' you even closer now. You can feel his hot breath fanning over your clit. You bite your lip as he gets even closer.

"You'll have to give me your explicit consent before I begin the treatment, though… tell me you want me to treat you…"

Your heart rate spikes as he says those words, "Please, help me, Doctor!"

His lips pull into a tight smile, "Of course…"

You gasp as he finally touches your clit, his rough fingers rubbing slow, lazy circles into the nub. You inhale as he leans in even closer, his dark brown eyes glancing up at your face before looking back down at your pussy, "Oh, this looks bad… I'll have to keep you in my office for quite a while…"

You bite your lip as he applies a bit more pressure with his fingers, the circles growing tighter. Your thighs quiver, and he strokes one of them with his free hand as if soothing you. You watch with a tight chest as he angles his fingers so they're prodding at your entrance. Slowly, he sinks his middle and ring finger within your heat, curling them upwards. You moan softly as he rubs his finger pads against the swollen spot. You squirm a bit under the direct stimulation.

He hums, "You're so sensitive. You've never played with this place before?"

You shake your head, "N-No, Mister Doctor…"

He chuckles lowly, "How cute…"

He looks at you intently, his fingers beginning to move a bit faster as he strokes your g-spot. You try to look at him, to maintain eye contact, but it's far too embarrassing. You avert your eyes, and he smirks.

"What's wrong?"

"I-I feel really embarrassed-" you stutter out, "It feels weird-"

He hums thoughtfully, beginning to rub your clit with his thumb as he strokes your inner walls, "You don't have to be ashamed. I'm a doctor; it's my job to help patients feel better…"

You whine as he removes his fingers and jolt once he dives in, his wet tongue lapping at your swollen nub. Your body jumps in surprise and pleasure before it melts into the mattress, your head tossed back onto the sheets. He moans into your cunt, his tongue swirling and drooling all over your slit.

"M-Mister-" you gasp sharply, "D-Don't lick there. T-That's-"

Law stops a moment, "I know what I'm doing. Just be a good girl and let it happen…"

You moan loudly as he resumes his pace, licking and sucking and lapping at your pussy. Law would never admit it to your face, but he loved eating you out. And when you whined and begged for him to stop when you played this role, that turned him on the most.

He holds your thighs down as you squirm and buck your hips desperately. He's relentless, sucking on your clit like a hard candy. He continues to assault your clit with his tongue for eons before your pleasure begins to bubble over.

"A-Ah," you gasp, "Oh, it's coming-!"

Law only hums in acknowledgment as he keeps up his pace, neither sucking harder nor softer as he brings you over the edge. Your legs can only vibrate so much as Law holds you down, moaning eagerly into your cunt as he tastes your juices.

He pulls away and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, "How are your symptoms? Do you feel any better?"

You struggled to speak as you caught your breath, "I feel… a bit better but… now my um, hole, feels empty…"

He chuckles, a smile tugging at his lips as he removes his hat, "Mm, I think I know the cure for that too…"

You readjust yourself on the bed so that Law can climb onto it as well. But before he joins you, he strips down, clad only in his boxers. You bite your lip as you look over his tattooed, tanned body.

"The cure?" You parrot as he crawls into bed, his body hovering over your own.

"Yeah," he says lowly, "I've got a special tool that should fit nicely in there… it'll make you feel all better…"

You watch as he slides out of his black underwear, his cock standing proudly over your cunt. You gasp and look at it wide-eyed, "Oh, but it's so big…"

There's a short pause before Law murmurs, "Turn around… if you don't watch it go in, you won't anticipate the pain; just like a shot…"

You almost snort at his disguised request to take you from behind, but instead, you nod and complete the task, propping yourself on your hands and knees. You push your face into the bed and reach back to spread your ass for him, revealing your dripping pussy. His heart almost stops in his chest at the sight.

"Okay," You sigh, "I'm ready, Mister Doctor…"

He grabs the base of his cock and slides it over your slit, collecting the slick from your hole before pushing in slowly. You moan as his cock stretches you, his length changing the shape of your walls.

"Fuck," he says shakily under his breath as he finally bottoms out, his pelvis pressed flush against your ass. Your eyes flutter shut as you grip the sheets, your cheek resting against the soft covers. Your body feels whole now that he's resting within you, and your pussy eagerly clamps down on him.

"So tight…" Law grumbles, slowly moving his hips in and out.

"I-Is that a bad thing, Doctor?"

He shakes his head, "N-No, it's normal… don't worry, after we treat this problem, you'll be perfectly healthy-"

His hips pick up the pace, thrusting in and out at a steady rhythm. You whimper and whine as his cock rubs against your g-spot perfectly, each thrust feeling like heaven. You whimper and whine the whole time, and to your surprise, so does Law.

He's unusually vocal tonight, grunting and huffing as he pounds away. He's needy, too, grabbing at your ass and slamming your hips against him to meet his thrusts. You want to tease him, but you're no better, grabbing at the sheets and moaning brokenly.

But you push him, speaking like that innocent character he loves.

"D-Doctor-" You shakily moan, "I-Is this- ah- really alright to do?"

"Trust me. You need this to feel better." He groans, "You trust me, don't you?"

"Y-Yes-"

"Good," He grunts, fucking into you even harder, his hips' movements growing frantic, "That's a good girl."

He leans forward, wrapping his arms around you and holding your breasts as he pumps in and out of you, his breath hot on your neck, "You're so trusting, so sweet... so naive and dumb. "

Your eyes roll back as he rams himself deep inside, his balls brushing against your lips with each thrust, "You need me to tell you what to do and how to do it, don't you? You don't know a damn thing-"

He punctuates his last few words with particularly brutal thrusts, his voice deep and gravelly in your ear.

"L-Law-" You whimper.

"Call me Doctor. Or Mister." He laughs slightly, his breath labored, "Or that combination of both you just love to tease me with-"

His tattooed fingers twist and pull at your nipples, and you sob out for him.

"D-Doctor-" It comes out a bit too loud, but you don't care if anyone else on the ship hears, "I-It's coming! I-I'm-!"

You squeal as your juices soak his cock. Your legs buckle under your weight, but Law grabs your hips, holding your body up as he fucks you through it.

Eventually, he pulls out, your cum connecting his tip to you. You're about to break character and laugh at him for going ballistic, but you can tell he's not done with you just yet when he flips you onto your side.

"W-What are you doing now, Doctor?"

He positions himself behind you, laying on his side and burying his face into your neck, "Two orgasms won't be enough. You'll need more than that before I'll let you go."

You gasp as he jerks his cock against your folds before roughly pushing in, his cock hitting places deep inside. You reach back, tugging at his hair. As he removes his lips from your shoulder, you turn your head to look at him before taking his lips with yours.

Time melts into one big puddle as he pistons in and out of you. His breath is shaky as he murmurs things like "good girl" and "so perfect for me" against your lips. Between rounds of brutal thrusts, he would pull out and rub your clit, his fingers occasionally dipping inside you to assault your g-spot.

You lost track of how many times you came and how many times your orgasms squirted onto the sheets, but Law didn't seem to care. He wanted to overstimulate you until you couldn't go anymore.

Eventually, as your body grows tired and sore, Law whispers in your ear, "Good girl. You took the treatment so well, but there's one last thing we need to do..."

You look up at him as he hovers over your body, you two long since abandoning the position where you laid on your sides.

"What's the last step, Doctor...?"

Law positions himself above you, his cock above your lips as you lay your head on the pillows.

He yanks your hair back with one hand and uses his other to hold his dick, pressing his swollen, cum-covered head to your lips, "Take your medicine like a good girl."

You blush darkly and open your mouth, sticking your tongue out as he jerks his cock over your tongue. You watch his bicep flex as he pumps his cock, his chest rising and falling as he approaches the edge.

"That's it, you're a natural..." He grunts softly, and soon, you feel a rope, and then another, decorate your tongue. His face contorts wonderfully, and you keep your tongue still, not retreating until he's shot all of his sticky seed all over your face.

You swallow it, licking your lips proudly to show you've consumed it all.

Law collapses next to you, a thin layer of sweat resting atop his features. You want to cuddle him, but he looks like he's still trying to recover. Instead, you prop yourself up on your elbow and look at him, a brow raised and a smirk on your lips.

"So, Mister Doctor," You giggle, "I see you were very into your role today."

Law huffs and looks at you, his brows furrowed and his lips contorted into a frown. Though, you notice the dark flush on his face, "Shut up, or I won't hold you."

"You wouldn't."

Silence lingers in the air, and for a moment, it seems like neither of you will budge until: "Fine. Just come over here."

You perk up and immediately dive in for a hug, pressing your lips against his cheek.

And at that, you see Law's lips curl into a smile.

#trafalgar water d law #trafalgar law #x reader #one piece smut #fanfiction #cream's fics #one piece #trafalgar d law x reader #law x reader

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umemiyan · 5 months

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𝘼𝙑𝙊𝙄𝘿𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀 / 𝘼𝘾𝘾𝙀𝙋𝙏𝘼𝙉𝘾𝙀.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗔𝗙𝗔𝗕!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ⌇ 18+ only, mdni / oral (reader receiving) / no power dynamics / a bit of cross-dressing (on gojo's end, but nothing too serious) / food + eating mentions / brief cigarette smoking / a friends to lovers type beat / 1.7k words

“I dunno... I think blue is more my color.”

“No... I like the pink.”

“Really? More than the blue?”

“Not necessarily. I like any color.”

You pull the lollipop from between your red-stained lips, and he considers your perspective.

A mini-skirt of light pink hangs low on Satoru’s hips as he twists them girlishly in the mirror on the bedroom door, checking from every angle, watching as the fabric sways with the motion. The t-shirt he wears with it hugs his torso and rides up from the bottom to rest just above his navel.

For a while you eyed the way the pink garment was juxtaposed against the coarse tuft of white leading down the center, framed by the prominent v-line that likewise disappeared behind the elastic hem. He was sculpted in some sort of heavenly image, you were sure, so of course he wore the trappings of a feminine adolescent with grace, just as any other thing he could think to put on.

But then your eyes move up to study his face, capturing the discerning but leisurely look that crosses it, relatively unbothered by the actual outcome of blue vs. pink, the two colors of the same skirt you’d both purchased for yourselves in a childish frenzy. You, on your belly on the bed, are surrounded by candy wrappers and shopping bags, and wearing the respective blue.

A cigarette hangs from between his lips, turning to ash but breathed in only once. Another distraction, an experimental vice requested at the cash register on a whim as you both stood there side-by-side—excited, gluttonous children.

There are dates on the calendar in which there's a certain sadness in his eyes, corrupting the crystal blues with the murk of remembered pain. He doesn't speak it, denies any bad feeling with a sugar-coated grin and a pointed playful jab, but you are no fool. He is not impervious to the human condition, nor are you oblivious to the signs of its wear and tear.

Bringing it to the light would likely cause his inner animal—the animal he tries to protect with avoidance—to skitter, causing a rift or lure towards dissociation until he returns with a forced smile. So, for once, you decide that maybe indulging the avoidance might be a method that yields interesting results.

It was all juvenile in nature, littered with the essence of instant gratification and riding the high of impulsivity. But truly, it was tame compared to what other adults your age might’ve done to drive bad thoughts away, trapped in the chokehold of dangerous vices.

You’d simply urged him to stores, swiping cards and collecting excess, nursing caffeinated drinks, adding to the sugar rush by dropping armfuls of candy boxes into shopping carts. Satoru had even taken a liking to a stuffed white creature with eyes like his own—some sort of popular character adjacent to Hello Kitty, you think. It now sits near you on the bed.

He sighs and deflates, sauntering towards the bedside table where he takes a sip from the soda can there. You rise from where you’d been laying, sitting up on the edge of the mattress and leaning back on your hands as Satoru plops down next to you, matching your posture and jostling ash from the tip of the neglected cigarette. The exciting buzz of the day is starting to wear off, quiet settling between you.

You pull the stick of tobacco from his mouth and remove the candy from your own, slipping the ball of sweetness between his willing lips to create a peculiar flavor. He sucks on it while you switch to inhaling smoke, coughing with a frown and then reaching across him to drop the cigarette in the soda can. Another failed distraction, 19 sticks in a box that’ll go unlit.

He grins in amusement, skirt draped over muscled thighs. He steals a glance at yours.

“You could always try getting drunk,” you say, exhaling smoke and breaking the silence.

“No way—you know I don't like it.”

It was a last-ditch effort, a grasping at straws. “I know. I don't like it either.”

Silence falls again. There are so many things you know about each other, but so many things you don’t, primarily of the intimate variety. Satoru thinks he might like to learn them.

But first, he has to try and dismiss. Unnerve. Avoid.

His smile droops a little, six-eyes studying you with interest, voice dropping. He’s closer now.

“Why do you always help me? I could kill you in an instant,” he states casually, finally acknowledging your motives behind the entire fun-filled day, though making a point to reaffirm your weakness compared to his strength.

What a severe choice of words to be paired with a teasing grin, but they aren’t incorrect. He’s nature’s favorite freak. Yours, too.

You meet his gaze, unwavering, stealing the lollipop from him. “’Could’ and ‘would’ are two different things."

He challenges you. “You don’t think I would?”

“In the pink skirt?” Your eyes flit around in thought. “Hmm… no. But maybe the blue.” You smile cheekily, mouth red like his own, and he exhales a chuckle. Beating him at his own game.

“I wouldn’t.”

Satoru’s breath mingles with your own, close enough to breeze against your skin that glows in the fading sunlight from the window. Everything is bare feet, mini skirts, and orange sunset, with a heaping spoonful of sugar and feelings rising to the surface. Childlike milieu. Leaning in for a kiss feels like the only viable option.

You’ve never tasted his lips before, and you know they don’t naturally emulate cigarettes, but that’s how they are to you now. It’s a similar thing from his perspective; however, it doesn’t deter either of you from spreading the flavor between you with slow, languid licks that also share a hint of strawberry lollipop, the paper stick pinched between your fingers, momentarily forgotten.

There’s a hand on your thigh as breathing patterns start to change, bodies wanting to melt together the longer you lap at each other’s mouths. But it isn’t hurried, the sugar crash making it a little drunken; or maybe the satisfaction of finally merging just puts the two of you at ease.

Satoru pulls back, tipsy from spit and indulgence, but seeking more of you now that he’s discovered the perfect medicine. The tips of his fingers inch higher up the inside of your thigh, and you pop the sucker back onto your tongue to suppress a moan.

“Let me try something else?” he asks with heavy lids, eyeing your pretty lips and pleading for this final distraction. But it’s not really a distraction anymore.

You’re staring at his lips too, nodding and humming around the candy in your mouth.

Satoru’s knees meet the carpet in front of you, palms spreading your thighs apart so that he can see the panties you’re wearing beneath your skirt. It shouldn’t feel like home for him here when he’s never even visited before, but it does, on both your end and his.

When his fingers clutch the waistband to strip away the fabric, you raise and shift your hips closer to the edge of the bed to offer assistance. Then the underwear has been rolled down your thighs and discarded on the floor, revealing you to him in full, Satoru marveling at the new sight and thumbing through the slit with the watering mouth of a starved animal.

He gets a little high off the smell of your cunt, your slick a narcotic on his tongue when he dips into it. He laves and smears until he’s covered in the sticky shine, lost in the service of another as it serves him in kind; placates him, fills the space where ache and self-importance used to encumber his chest.

The attention he presses to your clit rivals the attention you’d given his battered soul, paying you back, accepting love by letting it flow in, circulate, and flow back out. Appreciation, reciprocation, acceptance. He writes it with a wet muscle on every crevice of your delicate flesh.

Those burdened baby blues from earlier have become glazed with lust and love, peering up at you with adoration and accented by perfectly flushed cheeks. Your thighs are the heated walls of a century-old church during a southern summer, and it’s his favorite season. He’ll gladly work up a sweat with his prayer, his offering, his worship; he loves the purpose. Cum on his tongue and show him that God is listening, won’t you?

He wants to forever wear your pleasure as a gloss on his lips, let it override the taste of sugarcane and artificial flavor, the remnants of tobacco and nicotine, the weight of sorrow and melancholy.

Gift him with your orgasm, let it heal his wounds. Cleanse him, baptize him, save him.

He savors every second of his slow devotion, as do you, head falling back and throat singing his praises with moans of favorable timbre. Satoru’s eyes roll into his skull when your fingers slip between silky white strands and tug, shooting pleasure-pain straight down to his aching cock. He figures you’re close because your heels dig into his back and you grind your pussy along his chin, so the devotee keeps offering your cunt strawberry kisses until you fall apart.

He drinks down every last drop of essence that falls upon his tongue as your thighs encase him, a coil of ecstasy releasing in your gut. Your orgasm is sweeter than any candy he’s ever tasted, stronger than any bad memory that’s ever dared to haunt him. He’s even forgotten what had him feeling so somber today in the first place.

Lost friends. Lost ways. Things that hurt but are soothed by your companionship.

Satoru rises from his place of worship and seals the divine deal with a kiss, hardly taking the notion to breathe in between. Steadfast, you welcome him like you always do, making space in your heart and body for a man who didn’t think he required any love.

He is human too—living, breathing flesh that flourishes when provided with the proper nourishment. He may have a proclivity for convincing the world otherwise, but in his heart he knows it’s a deflection, an avoidance.

But he does not have to flee from pain, not anymore, because you will be there to strip it away from him. Not with candies and other pleasures of the flesh, but with the love and acceptance of a person who nobody ever thought needed it.

#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #my writing.#re: satoru gojo

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ghostwithpants · 5 months

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Ghost Of A Titan

This is a DPxPJO story idea I’ve been playing around with, I will eventually turn this into an actual fic but until then feel free to continue yourselves!

Anyway. I love me some ghost!dad Clockwork and I thought it would result in some very interesting in dynamics the PJO universe, so go crazy with it! ;)

You can’t just kill Time itself, cut it into tiny bits and cast the remains into Tartarus and not expect that to backfire spectacularly.

So when the Olympian Gods had to do just that, there was two paths for what would happen next:

Option one, with the killing of Time, time itself would stop existing. Which was never anybody’s favourite idea, since that meant that everything else would also become Stopped.

And then there was option two, upon Time’s death and during the fracturing of its soul, Time could refuse to let go. Could refuse so strongly that while the rest of Time lay dead and scattered in the underworld, part of Time’s soul would break away to form a ghost, one of ancient power and with the singleminded goal of keeping the timelines flowing as they should.

Fortunately, Time went with the second option.

The Olympians, forced to yield to this compromise least even they would Stop, allowed Clockwork to exist but enforced harsh restrictions on the new Ghost of Time. Unable to leave his lair in the Infinite Realms, Clockwork was only allowed to watch, to exist, so time may flow as it was meant to and nothing else.

And to guarantee that this was enforced Zeus, in all his infinite wisdom, created the imbecilic Observants to quite literally “keep an eye on him”.

If they weren’t so obnoxious, Clockwork might have found some humour in that. Instead, his new overseers continuous ignorance of what was actually required to keep the timelines flowing made his own job increasingly difficult and frustrating. But for the sake of the timelines, Clockwork made do with what he had, he stayed in his tower, he didn’t interfere with mortals and he only watch to ensure the timelines safety.

But inevitably, timeline threatening events began to happen in the mortal realms and he was still not allowed to interfere, so Clockwork had to get creative about getting other ghosts who stumbled on his lair to fix it for him, without either the gods or their obnoxious little spies noticing.

However you would be surprised how often these sort of events arose and while the Gods were free to meddle how they pleased (and had heroes and demi-gods to meddle on their behalf where they were forbidden) Clockwork was not allowed to even talk to those that didn’t find his lair themselves and choose to enter. Which was making it incredibly difficult to fix these catastrophic incidents.

Clockwork endured this for eons, for time is both different in the Infinite Realms and different for Clockwork himself. He likes to consider himself slow to anger but even he was getting frustrated.

He was also very lonely.

The observants, the wretched things, were constantly looming over his shoulder and, even worse, trying to throw their weight around outside his tower and doing their own meddling in the greater Infinite Realms itself.

Clockwork was definitely reaching his limit, he was-

… he was witnessing a very interesting anomaly.

The creation of a Half-Ghost, the first of its kind. In any stream or realm.

So Clockwork watches with great interest as Plasmius was forged. Watches as a portal was ripped open with Vladimir Masters on the mortal side and a nameless blob ghost on the otherside, the blob ghost was ripped to shreds immediately and forced to bond with Master’s body and soul, stopping the same thing from happing to Vladimir. The resulting creation was crude, haphazard and deeply unstable at first… But it did work.

It worked and the cogs in Clockwork’s mind and core began turning rapidly.

He could see that with a stronger ghost on the otherside, strong enough to not be obliterated and even able to guide the process of the Forging…. He could see exactly where every misshapen mistake could be turned into a symbiotic artwork, how life and death could be balanced on a knifes edge to create a being that could effortlessly walk both worlds.

How he could have the one thing he thought he’d never have since his own making: something that was a part of him, but free from the restrictions he suffered. Someone to share existence with, a Child!

Clockwork was not what the Titan of Time had been, he had never had the opportunity to create anything that could even be remotely similar to a familiar bond. The Ghost of Time wanted that nearly more then his own Obsession.

And when he saw there would be another, a boy, who would go through the same process but would be obliterated because there was no ghost on the otherside to power the Forging.

He couldn’t resist.

Clockwork didn’t need to be able see into all of time to know he wouldn’t be able to keep this a secret for very long. But if he was oh so careful, there was a small chance that the boy, Daniel, would have enough time to develop and maybe survive the Godly fallout that would follow Clockwork’s actions.

There was an even slimmer chance that Daniel would thrive and be happy. Be grateful that Clockwork saved him.

There were a lot of other, much worse, chances however. Filled with so much pain and suffering and death.

But still the Ghost of Time couldn’t resist that slim chance of happiness. Drawn like a moth to a flame, Clockwork slipped from his tower and slid through time and space to arrive, just in time, to be that oh so necessary ghost on the otherside of his new son’s Forging.

#danny phantom #percy jackson #dpxpjo #phandom #ghost!dad clockwork au #clockwork was Kronos before he was cut to ribbons #danny has no clue this happened or that clockwork is his ‘ghost dad’#ghost writes things

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libby-for-life · 3 months

Text

Just something me and @breedtheseed wrote on Discord. Even have some art done by them as well! Smut. Lots of smut. Enjoy.

Lucifer x Adam x Lilith

Heaven, a government-paid underground lab, decided to make a genetically perfect human for espionage and assassination. If they were successful, then they would create a female. Or even better. A man that could do it all.

So Project Eden began. Experiment 1-A, or Adam, was grown from a small clump of cells. They experimented on that fetus until it could have both fully functional female and male parts. They messed around with the DNA to see what yielded the best results.

He grew in a test tube until he was a fully grown adult, 21 years of age. At this point, he was a 7-foot-tall slim man with both a reproductive system and a way to reproduce.

They trained him. Hard. Adam gained muscles, strength, and intelligence, and was able to adapt to any situation they threw at him. Adam knew how to seduce both men and women for information and how to kill a human in over a thousand different ways. They created him with hyperthymestic, perfect memory. They labeled him the perfect human. The only thing they needed to do was to test him in a human environment. He needed more human contact other than just the scientists who conversed with him.

He was too old for high school. But college was right up his alley. They decided to enroll him and see how he reacted to humans his age.

They prepared Adam the best they could.

Adam barely talked, he liked to think before he said anything, but this left him silent. He had read about college of course. To Adam, that was an otherworldly experience he wouldn't know about. To think he was going to the Hazbin College, not the most creative name, to learn stuff he already knew.

When they explained to him he needed to know how to converse with others his age more smoothly, Adam reluctantly agreed that it was vital for his purpose.

They wanted him to blend in but excel in his studies. They also wanted to see how well he could adapt without any prior knowledge of what was trendy or considered normal. Sometimes, you wouldn't get the privilege of knowing everything before and you would need to wing it.

This was Adam's chance to prove he could.

The first time Adam felt the sun on his face was enough to make him smile. He read about the sun. He had just never seen it.

He was given an apartment with everything he could ever need, school supplies, and groceries delivered to him every week.

Adam knew how to cook just fine so he wasn't worried.

He made sure he picked something that would interesting but not something off-putting and weird.

He decided to major in Biology.

His first day came faster than Adam was prepared for. He was still adjusting to the overwhelming pressure of being outside and even more now that should he try to do anything Heaven wouldn't like it was game over for Adam.

They implanted a chip in him when he was asleep. Adam didn't know where but they would know where he was 24/7. If he ever defected...tried to run away, then he wouldn't be having a head anymore.

Adam walked into the building he would be studying in for the next 2 years. He had already seen the maps so he knew where he was going.

Only, there seemed to be two people struggling. Two...very beautiful people. Adam likened them to works of art. They seemed lost. Perhaps this was his first test? How would he do in a situation like this?

He approached the two people, a female and male, and quietly asked. "Do you need some help?" They both turned and looked up, Adam was pretty tall, and smiled. "Sure! Do you know where room 3-E is? This place is a maze," the shorter male said. He looked about 5'9. Blonde coifed hair, crystal blue eyes, and a smirk that made Adam blush a bit.

The woman had long blonde hair and eyes that shimmered like violets. Her natural smirk made him shiver too.

"Yeah, I know the way." They end up following him.

Adam was quick to understand that they were already very popular and everyone loved them. They had already been to college last year and they were coming again for their second.

They threw the best parties and knew the best people. Everyone wanted to be them or have sex with them. Adam knew they were physically attractive but no one knew them on a personal level. Didn't you need a connection to be in a relationship? Or was he thinking about healthy relationships?

Adam shrugged to himself as he saw the two of them surrounded by people and laughing at some of their poorly made jokes.

Why were they laughing at that? Adam didn't understand it. Unless this was their way of blending in with the crowd.

Adam though keeping an eye on then would be useful. They could effortlessly fit into crowds and compel people to tell them things. He couldn't place why but he felt he had to know more about them.

He wasn't prepared for them to come to *him*. He was just eating lunch outside campus when he felt a strong arm hug his waist. Startled he looked down and saw Lucifer grinning up at him.

"Hi!"

Another grabbed his arm and Adam turned to see Lilith holding it.

"What are you doing out here?" He wasn't used to being touched. He didn't know what they were doing. It did feel...nice. He didn't know how to explain it any other way.

Back at Heaven people would ask him odd questions all the time. He gestured to his lunch and told them he was eating.

"Looks tasty," Lucifer said. It was okay. "We wanted to invite you to a party!" A party? Adam had never been to one. Oh, sure. He trained on what he was supposed to do in that kind of situation but had never experienced something so normal.

"Do you want to go?" Lilith asked, biting her lip a bit.

Did he? It would be a good experience and he would have another normal thing to write I'm his report to Heaven.

"Sure." They looked so happy that he accepted their invitation. "Here. Let me just write the address." Lilith took his hand and Adam watched fascinated as she wrote on his hand with a pen.

"There. It's tonight!"

The way Lucifer wrapped his arm around Adam gave him a much closer look at the shorter man's face. Adam could feel like he'd seen him before he was sent to the college or at least someone with a very similar face.

Adam shrugged it off. Adam remembered everything, so if he couldn't place Lucifer's face then he hadn't seen it.

Lucifer was holding the party at his place. It was large expensive house owned by his older brother who raised him since their parents died. Since his older brother was always away at his government job Lucifer started thinking of it as his place.

Adam did some research on what time was acceptable to arrive at a party. There was apparently something called being fashionably late.

He came when the party was in full swing.

"Adam!" Lucifer greeted with a bottle of alcohol in one hand.

Drinking that stuff lowered your body's rate to function properly.

Adam would *not* be drinking tonight. He brought a sealed plastic water bottle that he would pour into a red solo cup or something and pretend he was drinking.

Adam allowed himself to be dragged to a sofa where Lucifer sat him down. He was about to ask why when Lucifer plopped right on his lap. Adam froze, not expecting that of Lucifer. Lucifer smirked up at him and winked. Oh. Either Lucifer was the teasing type or he was flirting.

Adam didn’t know where the action was going to go, he didn’t want to ask just in case Lucifer would leave him. He didn’t dislike the action he was just rather confused about why it was happening

But when Lilith sat beside and slid a hand to his neck and gently squeezed....oh. Ooooohhhhh. That felt good.

Lilith smiled as she gently rubbed his neck and played with his hair. Adam melted I to the touch.

The scientists at Heaven never showed affection like this. He loved it.

No one was paying attention to them as Lucifer's hands found their way to his chest and massaged gently. Adam's eyes snapped open as a whimper left his mouth.

A goddamn whimper. He...he hadn't done that since Heaven tested his durability. But that was a whimper of pain. This...this felt good.

"Damn...I knew you had muscles but damn..." Lucifer muttered.

"Doesn't he look pretty? Such a pretty boy." Lilith murmured in his ear making him whine. Was...was this going too fast? It...he didn't know what to do.

When he felt buttons pop open from his shirt and stifled a moan when Lucifer's fingers found their way to his nipples. They pinched.

Adam did moan. It was quiet and breathy.

Adam heard Lucifer say, "Let's take this to a bedroom." He was guided away from the couch. Strong hands. Hands that squeezed and felt good.

Adam wasn't quite sure what they were doing, but he was good at following instructions. When he was gently pushed into a bed, he understood. They wanted sex. They taught him the basics at Heaven but he was a virgin.

Lucifer licked his neck while Lilith settled behind him.

"I just knew how innocent you'd be when I saw you." Lilith whispered huskily in his ear making Adam bite his lip. He was far from innocent in most things, but experiencing was different.

Lucifer chuckled and helped him out of his shirt. "Damn, you look perfect. You must have worked hard for these abs." He did. He worked for years through blood, sweat, and tears to get this body the way it was. But to hear it be appreciated by someone who wasn't for Heaven, made Adam blush and moan.

It sounded needy to his own ears. "Aw, he has a praise kink." Lilith cooed.

Praise kink? Adam blushed and squirmed a bit against their soft touches, Lucifer’s hands had returned to his chest.

“They’re so soft when you aren’t flexing,” Lucifer hummed as his fingers traced the man’s nipples once more.

"I wonder if I just—" A loud moan tumbled out as Lucifer pinched his nipples and twisted them. He felt his hips leave the bed, chasing something....something he didn't know, but his body was reacting to Lucifer's touch like fire to gasoline.

Lucifer blinked before smirking. Lilith chuckled into his neck.

“So sensitive,” Lilith hummed as she kissed Adams neck, Adam shivered and his hips made a small jerk. Adams lip trembled this was so different than what he trained for, he knew this could happen but it felt so different than what he imagined.

It felt good.

They pinched, caressed, and pulled on sensitive flesh. Adam was a moaning mess when he felt a warm mouth suck on his nipple.

"Let's see what other treasures you might have?" And Lilith slipped a hand into his pants and rubbed his ass.

By this point, he was pitching quite the tent and his vagina was pulsing and feeling so wet.

Lilith smirked as her fingers brushed over the ring of muscles, she had to do a small double take when her fingers dipped into Adams soaked pussy, the mans hips instinctively arched into her fingers.

Her eyes grew wide at the realization as she traced her fingers around Adams ass hole and pussy the small taint separating the two.

A squeak left Adam’s lips as he flet fingers brush his very sensitive vagina.

"Oh my god....do you have a pussy?" She asked shocked and very turned on by this.

Lucifer's head whipped up, surprised etching his features and it didn't take long for him to slip Adam’s pants off along with his underwear.

There, right below a proudly standing dick, was a drooling pussy. H-holy shit. He had heard of them. Hermaphrodites. Incredibly rare. And so very arousing...

Lucifer smirked up at Adam who was red-cheeked and breathing very heavily.

Lucifer’s mouth watered and he licked his lips as he gave Lilith a look, Lilith met the look with a knowing smirk as she pulled Adams's face to hers capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. Adam moaned

Adam had never been kissed before. This was so new and he was all to happy to let Lilith take the lead.

However, the kiss broke when Adam gasped and looked back to see Lucifer between his legs, when did Lucifer do that? Adam was barely able to soak in the view when Lilith pulled him back into the kiss and ravished his mouth, while curious fingers spread his weeping pussy.

Adam moaned, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. Fingers pushed gently, exploring new territory.

"I can't believe you have a pussy." Lucifer said. Pussy? Was...was that what people called vaginas? Why call it after a cat?

He lost his train of thought when Lilith forced her tongue inside his mouth, tasting everything.

They broke for air when Lucifer pushed more in.

"God, you look beautiful like this, your pussy spreading for me so easily."

"P-pussy? Do you mean vagina?" This causes them both to laugh leaving Adam feeling very embarrassed.

They chuckled and gave gentle kisses “so innocent,” Lucifer hummed as he scissored his fingers making Adam moan. “Would you prefer I call it your vagina or cunt?” Adam didn’t answer he felt embarrassed somehow.

“Aww it’s ok Adam don’t be shy,” Lilith glided his face back to hers “We just think it’s cute that’s all,” she kissed his lips but it was softer. Adam whined, he was cute?

He had never been called cute before. Deadly. Annoying. Perfect specimen. But never cute.

"Y-you think it's cute? I know it's not...normal." And that was the kicker, wasn't it? He would never be normal. Not really. He was essentially a test tube baby. He would never understand people simply because he wasn't made for it.

Lucifer and Lilith frowned as they looked at Adam, he was so red in the face he looked so beautiful.

Who the fuck would say he wasn’t normal?

“Adam you are so beautiful,” Lucifer said as he trailed kisses up Adams body, his hands rubbing circles on Adams hips.

“He’s right Adam you’re so perfect,” Lilith whispered as she peppered his neck with kisses, Adam moaned against the touches.

Adam squealed hard when he felt a mouth directly kiss his...pussy? Cunt? He didn't know what to call it anymore more but those soft kisses were driving his sensitive p-pussy wild.

Lilith chuckled and held him down with two hands while Lucifer smirked up at him.

"Have you ever been ate out before?"

Adam frowned, was he wanting to eat him? He shook his head. And Lucifer smiled as he swiped his tongue against Adam's folds, Adams's hips stuttered at the feeling he wanted more. Lilith smiled and kissed his cheek, “it’s going to feel really good,” she whispered.

Adam's legs wanted to close, but the feeling was too strong. But Lucifer’s hands kept Adams's shaky legs open

Lilith bit and sucked his neck, loving the little noises he made while the Lucifer's skillful tongue worked its magic.

Adam whimpered and whined. To Lucifer and Lilith, it was so hot to reduce someone as strong and capable looking as Adam was to a whimpering and moaning mess.

And to find out that Adam had a pussy and a dick? God, he truly was the best of both worlds.

Lucifer couldn’t get enough he wanted to be deep inside of Adam, he rolled his hips into the bed for some friction against his aching cock.

Lilith bit her lip, she wanted to see how much Adam could take. Maybe she could bring out her strap when Lucifer was done with him, or maybe she would teach Adam how to eat a woman out. She smirked at the idea as her hands found Adams soft muscular pecs. She hadn’t expected them to be soft as he played with them, watching how Adams hips tried to ride Lucifer’s face.

It was cute.

"Aw, are we getting desperate?" Lilith whispered with another kiss. Adam whimpered out the words, "I, ah! I need more!" Adam yelped when he felt *teeth* down there.

"What do you want Adam?"

"I-I don't know!" Adam cried desperately. "I just want more!" Lucifer snickered and sucked on his clit, knowing that it would drive Adam crazy and it did. Tears looked beautiful on Adam.

And Adam was so vocal, his moans were very much like music to the two ears. As Lucifer sucked the cute bud his fingers began to trace Adam's entrance as they dipped inside and began to thrust. Adam's eyes flew open and he gripped Lilith, his grip weak as his body grew hotter.

“That’s it Adam doesn’t it feel good,” Lilith said with a soft voice against his ear.

“Hot,” Adam whimpered into Lilith's neck as he got closer to climax.

He had read about it but never experienced it. Would this be his first orgasm?

Lucifer hummed, going a bit faster.

Lilith gently rubbed and pinched his sensitive chest while she licked his lips. "Cum for me Adam."

Adam did with a scream. He breathed heavily. As the two go out of bed. Was-was that sex? Were they done?

He gulped when he saw them strip. He forgot he was the only one naked. Both sported lithe muscles and by all accounts, he was the bigger and more muscled of the two, and yet he didn't mind them being in charge. Lilith and Lucifer smirked as they...stripped teased. Yes. He was taught this. If he needed to seduce someone, he would tease them provocatively and distract them.

But Lilith and Lucifer did so effortlessly. Soon, Lucifer was only in his boxers and Lilith in a lingerie set of purple.

"Adam, " Lucifer purred. "Will you help us strip?"

Adam got up on shaky legs, when he approached them Adam easily took off the woman’s bra to which Lucifer chuckled and showed Adam how to go slow. Adam followed Lucifer’s lead, slowly stripping Lilith of her lingerie.

“That’s it Adam, just a good boy,” Lucifer hummed.

Adam moaned at the praise. "Why don't we reward you?" Lilith climbed back into bed while Lucifer guided him until he was face-first into Lilith's breasts. They were, well, huge and Adam never realized how soft they would be.

Lilith chuckled and pressed his face closer, loving to see his embarrassed and flushed face in her bosom.

Lucifer bite his lip as he saw Adam's dick already hardening and pussy dripping again.

Adam moaned again when he felt Lucifer’s hands against his ass, feeling his pussy spreading the cool air against the heated flesh made him shiver.

"I can't wait to deflower you, baby boy," Lucifer growled as he sunk the tip in. Adam yelped and squirmed but Lilith held him in her surprisingly strong grip.

"That's it, baby. Doing so good. You're the best baby boy in the world."

There it was again. Baby boy. Why were they calling him that?

"Baby boy?" He moaned out while Lilith cooed at his fucked out face. Lucifer was going slow to give Adam some time to adjust to his enormous girth and size. She knew exactly how big Lucifer was and only someone who had experience could take him going wild animal on them.

Adam deserved it nice and slow. At least at first.

Lilith chuckled at his question. "Cute nickname, right?" Then she smirked mischievously. "Unless you prefer baby girl?"

Adam whimpered, he wasn’t a baby, he moaned when a particular thrust pushed him further into Lilith. It felt so big inside him, he whimpered and his training kicked in. He arched into the thrusts, and hugged Lilith for some kind of grounding as Lucifer rolled his hips into Adams sweet heat.

Lucifer’s view was amazing seeing how Adam’s pussy took him so well, he bit his lip looking at the tight ring of muscles above the entrance.

He wondered if Adam had a prostate. He’d have to do that another time.

Lilith was definitely going to be eaten out tonight. They found a treasure trove. A man with no hang-ups about sexuality or was judgemental about having a threesome. In fact, the only reason they were interested at first was because Adam looked and acted different from everyone else. He was an empty canvas and Lilith and Lucifer were going to be the artists. Plus, it helped that Adam was adorable. Who knew a seven-foot giant with muscles for days would be this subby in bed? He was the perfect sub.

Lucifer groaned when he finally bottomed out.

Adam whimpered against Liliths breasts, “Adam baby,” her soft voice called to him. “Will you make me feel good too~” Adam whimpered as the shifted putting Adams face right against Liliths soaked cunt, Adams mouth watered as he looked up at her for instructions.

“Go on Adam, give it a try,” Lucifer said from behind him. Adam hesitantly swiped his tongue against Lilith's soft folds making his insides clench around Lucifer’s cock.

"That's it. Why don't you go a bit deeper?" Lilith suggested with pink cheeks. Adam moved a bit closer and dragged his tongue across Lilith's pussy. She moaned and gripped his hair tightly, causing him to moan. He licked and sucked at her entrance, trying to bring up the diagram he was shown of the female anatomy. Hmm...there should be something called the clitoris somewhere...lick. "Ah! Yes! Right there!" Lilith screamed as Lucifer began moving again.

Adam tried desperately to make her feel good, he liked the way her moans made his insides twitch around Lucifer’s cock.

He sucked and licked trying to mimic what Lucifer did as much as possible, he moaned loud against her folds as Lucifer's thrusts began to grow faster.

Adam shoved his face deeper as Lucifer and Lilith moaned, reaching their own climax. Lilith gripped Adam's dick and rubbed it, causing him to squeal in overstimulation.

She bit her lip as he began crying again, giving her pussy little kitten licks.

Lucifer continued to roll his hips into Adam making sure to milk every last bit into the man as Adam reach overstimulated territory.

“So perfect,” Lucifer whispered as he ran a hand down Adams back.

“He really is,” Lilith agreed as she helped Adam cum, Lucifer bit his lip feeling how Adam's thrusts pushed Lucifer’s cock deeper into him.

Adam screamed the loudest when he came. Dick squirted cum onto Lilith's and his stomach while his pussy spasmed. He got a mouthful of Lilith's juice and he was quick to swallow it all.

"Baby girl is so good for us," Lilith said to Lucifer as they watched him whimper on her thigh, face covered in her orgasm.

"Aw, he's so cute like this. All fucked out and drooling." Lucifer pulled out gently and kissed Adam's back.

Adams legs gave out and his brain was fogged, was that sex were they going to leave him like this? Adam shivered when Lucifer fingered him cum back into Adams pussy.

“Such a good boy you are Adam,” Lucifer said as he helped Adam get more comfortable on the bed.

“Won’t you stay our baby girl Adam~” Lilith hummed as she and Lucifer looked down at his tired state.

"Mmmm....yesh." He slurred. He felt so protected right now and relaxed. He snuggled up and lied down on Lilith's plush breasts, yawning tiredly.

"Aw, so tired." Lucifer cooed as Adam fell asleep.

Everyone had trickled out, it was 2 am, and that meant they were alone. He came back and stripped out of his clothes before climbing into bed. He snuggled up to his girlfriend and possibly boyfriend.

"God, he's perfect. I can't believe we found him."

“Me too,” Lilith matched his excitement as they looked at their secret treasure. He was so perfect.

“We should clean him,” Lucifer said as he was about to get up.

“Nah I think he’s fine plus look how tired he is, we wouldn’t want to ruin his sleep,” Lucifer couldn’t disagree with her on that one. “Plus I read that hermaphrodites are mostly infertile,” she finished as she snuggled up to Adam, Lucifer shrugged and joined her.

Adam woke up to the sound of humming. He whimpered, God he was so *sore,* but still had his eyes closed. He was on something soft and warm. It felt like there were two warm...bodies next to him.

Opening his eyes, he noticed that Lilith and Lucifer were both asleep on top of him. They snuggled close to him, eager to soak in his warmth. He blushed when he realized they were all naked. It turned out the humming was just Lilith sleep-talking.

Adam blushed at them holding onto him. Especially since he was feeling his morning wood pop up along with Lucifer's which was poking his thigh.

He needed to get some water. He could tell he was dehydrated.

If you all liked this, there will be a part 2! Love you guys!

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magidoggie · 9 months

Text

A LOOK INTO SHI/HIR PRONOUNS AND THEIR ORIGINS

So I’ve seen people claim that shi/hir pronouns are intersex exclusive (mostly intersex people), and others say they aren’t (mostly non-intersex people)

As an intersex person, I've been confused about this for a while, so I decided to look into it

THIS POST WILL CONTAIN NSFW TOPICS, FURRIES, TALKS OF FETISHIZATION OF INTERSEX BODIES, AND INTERSEX SLURS!

Most of the users of these pronouns seem to be non-intersex people, but there are also intersex people who use them.

I've seen a decent amount of intersex people say that shi/hir pronouns are only ours to use, as they were used against us (like a shortened version of he-she). This would make them basically slurs that only we can reclaim.

I've even seen some claims that Geoffrey Chaucer himself coined these words?? (The chaucer thing, I haven't been able to find a source for. Even so, it is most likely just an old spelling of "she/her")

I’ve seen people say it originated on 4chan. It'd be hard to verify, as 4chan is known for not keeping threads up for long. There are 4chan archives, but I've tried my hardest to look for any combinations of things like "shi" and different terms that could work with it like "intersex" "freak" or "hermaphrodite" . I don't doubt it's been used on 4chan, but I can't find much, and archival sites don't go back far enough.

Regardless, the pronouns seem quite old. One thing I did find under the search of ""4chan" shi hir" on Google, was a.. descriptive post on a furry porn website called e621.net

Okay, 13 years ago, that's a start. It certainly contains the word "herm" (short for hermaphrodite), and the word intersex used with this pronoun.

Godspeed TheShadowfox42 I hope you found the image.

Using Google's "Before:(date)" feature, I searched "shi herm before:2010", and unsurprisingly, I found a lot of furry porn.

Stories on sofurry.com, a furry website that looks to be from at least 2007, if not older. I'll spare you the details, but indeed, there, they use shi/hir pronouns for their "herm" characters. Did these pronouns originate from.. furries?? I put that though aside for now, to look further into other uses.

As it turns out, the journey does not end at 2007. Urban dictionary has an entry from 2003

No slurs here, it looks like a neutral usage. Again, going back to Google. Now, search terms "hir "gender neutral" before:2004"

Many results show up now, now articles rather than furries. American.edu (seems to be a university), Swarthmore.edu (this is a college), both from 2001. jstor.org with a journal article from 1999. Unfortunately I can't read that one, as I have to pay a whole $63 to purchase it. I even found a PDF file from 1994 by core.ac.uk

But, what I've realized now is this is not usage of shi/hir pronouns. All of these use Ze/hir pronouns. I don't know if there is any link, but the last pronoun looking the same must've obscured the results.

From the american.edu article on these pronouns. You can see the usage of "hir" alongside "ze", and below it, the usage of ze/zir pronouns, which seem to be used more today.

Shit.. Doing the search all over again with the pronoun "shi" yields.. very few results apart from people talking about Chinese words.

Wait what about those furries from earlier? The tvtropes.org article does include this:

Chakona space? Chakats? Pronouns he came up with? Admittedly I kept seeing these centaur feline hybrid characters come up quite consistently during this dive, but I had to look into it further.

Oh buddy what did I get myself into. This is from 2001 best I can tell, so we're getting quite old here. I scroll down on the page.

And lower down.

Now this is all very interesting speculative biology, but what I'm focusing on is again, the usage of "hermaphrodite" together with the pronouns "shi/hir". Did a furry artist named Bernard Doove come up with these pronouns.

It gets yet older.. New search, "chakats "shi" before:2001"

Again, Bernard Doove's art from 2000, 1999, 1998,

I find a website called yerf.metafur.org It has furry art, dating all the way back to the mid 1990's, but here, on December 23 1998, is the first appearance of these pronouns on that site.

This Bernard Doove person has been at this project, with these pronouns for a while.

From what I can tell, many of his art pieces, they seem to be quite sexual beings. Quite fetishistic of hermaphroditism at times. (or intersexuality, take your pick)

The other thing I found with my search was a website, furry.org.au/bosshoss/

My search says it's from September 14 1998.

That's certainly some information, but it might come in handy. So Chakat Goldfur provided this website? Who is that? Looking into it, that seems to be a character created by Bernard Doove, that acts as an alter ego. Further down, the person running this website lists some other websites they enjoy. One being "Proxima Centauri", which seems to be another furry artist.

"I met this one at ConFURence 8. Very interesting. (Did I mention shi is a hermaphrodite uni-centaur?)"

(For context, ConFURence is a furry convention held in 1997)

Again, the usage of hermaphrodite, and the pronoun shi. At this point, the website being linked to is long gone, but the wayback machine provides help. The website, http://www.spots.ab.ca/~unicorn/main.htm has been captured all the way back to October 8th 1997.

At this time, the website was under construction. No images are willing to load and haven't been archived, but the description is intact.

So this person uses shi/hir pronouns for their hermaphroditic character all the way back in 1997. There are links to other places where this person used to host their works, but they are all down and haven't been archived. The thread is running thin..

Back to Bernard Doove, the Chakat creator. There must be something more to this. Turns out, there was. On the "yerf" website, I actually found several art pieces that were not picked up by Google.

Febuary 22 1997. Getting yet older. In some art pieces, Bernard references "Forest Tale" and "forest tales", so I went looking for whatever that was.

1995?? you've got to be kidding. It's an adult story involving these "chakat" beings, and sure enough, down the page

Shi/hir pronouns used over and over again.

With the use of hermaphrodite.

But.. This is kind of where it ends. I couldn't seem to find anything older, and I'm not going to contact Bernard Doove over this. Even something as old as 29 years is impressive to me. Bernard Doove states his characters were inspired by other furry artists' creatures of the time, but since it's 1995, there isn't much left for me to find here. Anything before that time is probably lost.

With all the information I have been able to gather, it looks to shi/hir pronouns were created by Bernard Doove who is a furry author and artist. Shi/hir were made to be a midway between "she" and "him" in some way, to be a gender neutral word for hermaphroditic genetically modified beings called "chakats" in his stories. As an intersex person myself, I don't enjoy the use of "hermaphrodite" in such a way, as it's a slur for us. But these types of characters also seem to be very old, and we, and our struggles, were completely unknown to the vast majority of people, even moreso than nowadays.

If you use those pronouns for an intersex person who doesn't use them, it is indeed intersexist, as you are implying we are hermaphrodites.

But as for whether only intersex people can use them? I'm not sure. The original intent doesn't seem be directly linked to intersex people. You could argue that these hermaphroditic characters are fetishized versions of how many people see us, and have seen us for a long time. Afterall, hermaphrodite was, and still is, a common slur for us.

I don't doubt some people have used these pronouns as slurs against us as well, but I also haven't found anything specifically that supports that. It always seemed to be for specific fictional characters that COULD be based off specific intersex attributes

I'm not going to argue one way or the other. This was just me trying to find what I could about these pronouns and their history. Just be mindful of how you use these pronouns, and the connections they have to fetishes revolving around the common misinterpretation of intersex bodies (as in, "having both parts")

Thank you for reading.

I hope you learned something. I know I did, and I now have a headache.

#shi/hir #pronouns #history #internet #intersex #fetishization #furry #queer history #doggie barks

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extremelyblackandwhite · 1 year

Text

pairing: dad!bucky barnes x au pair!reader

warnings: age gap (reader is 10 years younger than bucky), smut (18+, dni if under 18)

author’s note: sorry for the delay folks xx

masterlist

now i wish we’d never met ‘cause you’re too hard to forget while i’m cleaning up your mess i know he’s taking off your dress and i know that you don’t but if i ask you if you love me i hope you lie to me

Bucky Barnes was a great many things, a paradox in a single man, many opposite things to different people. For some he was an angel, charity driven and ready to sacrifice himself for everything and everyone. For others, he was a demon, someone who was power driven, filled with the need for success and stepping on anyone he needed to be the first and the best. No matter what both thought, all agreed on one thing - Bucky Barnes was one hell of a charmer. He’d gotten that from his mother - old high class British charm, his father used to say. That combined with his looks made him irresistible to most people. Everyone flocked to him, everyone except for Y/N. She’d vanished from his side a bit later into the night and he hadn’t seen her since. Each time he thought to look for her, someone would need him or catch his attention.

Even with all that, he couldn’t find her. Y/N was an eye catching woman, she was beautiful and if she were anywhere near he would’ve found her. Instead, she was nowhere to be found and he was starting to get annoyed. He wanted to spend the evening with her, or at least he had intended to spend the evening with her, introducing her to the right people who could help her. He continued listening to whoever was talking to him right now - truth was, he wasn’t even sure who that person was. He just usually smiled and kept up simple talks, that was what was required of him so he would gladly keep doing it as long as it yielded results.

As for Y/N, she had almost forgotten who she was here with. Christopher Davis was someone who she always could picture herself with. He was smart, well spoken, well mannered and seemed to have an interest on her. Besides, he had gone through the same thing as her back at Columbia.

- I’m just saying Professor Williams is a pain. - Chris laughed as Y/N explained what her supervisor had said. - If Professor Anderson likes you then you must be a bright student.

- Or maybe I’m just really daft.

- I don’t think so. - he smiled. - Sergeant Barnes doesn’t employ someone who doesn’t have promise.

- Except I don’t work for him ... I mean, not like you work for him, I’m just an au pair. I reckon the only criteria was are you a threat and are you good with children.

- How is it working with Sergeant Barnes if you don’t mind me asking?

Chris looked at her and then back at James whom he didn’t notice had been staring them down until now. He sighed, putting on his best smile, after all, he was trying to impress this girl.

- He’s uptight and a bit controlling but I guess you have to be if you want things to run smoothly. Specially when you work in advertising.

- That’s most CEOs isn’t it?

- Yes but James Barnes is .. different. Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a disgruntled employee.

- That is fine. Sergeant Barnes has got me on my nerves every once and again?

- Is that so? - Y/N felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around to face her boss. She wasn’t afraid of him per say, but she also knew, she just knew he would probably be pissy for the rest of the evening. - Good evening Y/N, Mr. Davis.

- I will see you tomorrow, Y/N. - Chris smiled at the au pair.

To say Y/N was over the moon was a massive understatement. He liked her, at least she thought he liked her enough to invite her out. She didn’t think she still had it within her, she was usually busy looking over Sadie or with her postgraduate studies - that didn’t give her enough time to think about her sex and love life. That being said, maybe that explained why she was having the weird dreams and fantasies about James; familiarity. Right? It had to be that.

Bucky on the other hand felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. Chris was ... well, he didn’t know that much about Chris other than he came from money yet he couldn’t even blame him from that since he had come from money as well. He was just boring, Bucky found him boring. He didn’t take risks, at least not enough risks for someone who worked at advertising. He played it safe. It worked, but it wasn’t revolutionary. Still, Bucky didn’t like him. He definitely didn’t like him for Y/N either. Y/N was smart, innovative, caring and another bunch of positive adjectives which were too long to list. Chris was just boring.

- So how’s that lady? - Y/N broke the silence between the two of them, a bit tipsy on the champagne which she wasn’t used to drinking.

- What lady?

- Delilah? - she looked up through her dizzy, tipsy mind, before snapping her fingers. - Delia. Yeah, that’s her name. How is Delia?

- You would know if you weren’t busy flirting with my employees.

- Oh so you can flirt but I can’t?

- Not when you’re with me. You’re embarrassing yourself and humiliating me.

- But I’m not here with you, am I, sergeant? I am not your date, am I?

- No. - he smiled forcefully. - However if I were going to flirt with someone I would pick someone less boring.

- You work in advertising, Sergeant. Everyone is boring.

(...)

Bucky had never spent a whole night alone with Sadie, not when she was awake. Yet, here he was, left behind by his au pair so she could go and date boring Chris while he had to deal with a very hyper Sadie who was running around as if it wasn’t 8 o’clock yet. He usually had a babysitter or he had Y/N, or Steve yet right now he was by his lonesome. He thought she would’ve settled down if he played princesses, yet, she did not. Instead Bucky now had knotted hair, glitter on his face and probably some on his eye and permanent marker on his neck. He had finally given up and done the worse thing in the eyes of every parenting book - he’d given her a tablet loaded with all the Bluey seasons. Meanwhile he’d taken to watching re-runs of Mad Men.

- Bed? - he asked the curly haired ginger who looked up at him, her hair in front of her face. - I’ll give you 10 dollars?

- No. - she replied before looking back at her tablet. Bucky sighed, looking up at the ceiling. Soon the terrible twos would be done and he’d have the terrifying threes.

- 20 dollars? - he said once again but she ignored him. He sighed, how come Y/N managed to do this? - Sadie, you can either go to bed or you can be tired tomorrow and not go to the park with Y/N. Choose.

She looked at him with the death stare which she had inherited from him, but eventually got up, grabbing his hand. Bucky smiled, picking her up and walking to her bedroom. He pushed the sheets from her bed, carefully rolling her to her mattress before tucking her in, handing her a Bingo plushie.

- You want a story, babe? - he asked her, brushing her curls away from her forehead. - No?

- Light?

- I’ll turn your little moonlight on. - he kissed her forehead. - I love you, Sisi bug.

She smiled at him and it was enough for him to know she meant she loved him too. He tucked her once more before turning off the main light, leaving the room softly lit by the nightlight. Slowly and softly he went up the stairs, grabbing a wick basket and started collecting toys onto it. She had too many toys, still he wouldn’t stop buying them. As he finished it, Bucky sat back down on the couch. He was annoyed. Why did she even go out with that prick? The only thing they had in common was an alma matter and god knows Chris was a legacy student so it wasn’t like he tried as hard to get into university like Y/N had. God, he hated him. Hated how bland and boring he was.

He toyed around with the remote, trying to find something that would get his head out of the idea of goddamn Christopher Davis trying to get her out of the practically translucent dress she had been wearing. Bucky could swear she did it on purpose, just to show off to him in those strap heels and short sheer black dress like a temptress. He changed channels once more, hoping he’d find something ... maybe a pay per view porn channel or something. Yet nothing took his mind of his au pair, his employee who he should have some professionalism with, and that stupid lacy bra he could make out under that dress. Dressing up like that for goddamn Davis.

He stared at his phone, watching as hours passed yet nothing fulfilled. Eventually, Bucky made a mistake, a huge, massive mistake. A mistake which fulfilled itself as he opened the door to show Delia. He handled things badly but right now he needed his fill.

His lips attacked hers as they stumbled towards the bedroom, Bucky locking the door behind him. This was a bad habit, a terrible habit but her lips felt good, her taste was tempting and Bucky wasn’t the one to have good habits. However, today, things were ... different. Her lips leaving lipstick marks on his neck didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was a mistake. He shouldn’t really have a woman in the house when his daughter was asleep upstairs.

- Are you alright? - Delia pulled away from him.

Bucky blinked, he had to be going ... stir crazy. Maybe he’d drank a bit too much whiskey but her features morphed and he could swear that in place of the woman he usually called whenever he needed release, stood the woman he wanted to be here now. The sheer dress a vivid memory in the back of his mind. He ignored her question, moving to kiss her neck and putting his hand over her mouth. His fantasies took full front stage as his mind drew a different reality.

All he could see was her, red lips open wide with soft, high pitched moaned as he kissed down her body, doing away with her dress and her underwear. He wanted to mark her, he wanted to mark this vision of a woman he craved. His hands found the top of his joggers, pushing it down as if he were a horny mess. His cock was painfully hard, slapping against his stomach as he stood over her, this vision of Y/N. All he could think of were all the times she saw her, the outline of her breasts, her collarbones. He didn't pace himself, instead lining up with the woman's entrance before he gripped her hips and slide himself in, without much a second of though. The feeling made him grown, he was insane he reckoned, insane because he knew this wasn't her but all he could see is her. The soft moans, the contracted muscles. He fucked her hard and rough until he felt his release approach. Once he did, he slide himself off, jerking off and coming on her stomach, rolling to the side of the bed. He stared at the ceiling fan of the guest bedroom, his mind lulling him back to reality ... all he could think when that moment was once simple thing - Fuck Chris Davis.

(...)

Y/N didn’t spend the night. He noticed that in the morning as he was getting prepared from work and saw her walk in, with her dress crimped and hair barely brushed. His blood bubbled. If she wanted to fuck old money, she could’ve fucked him.

- Had your release? - he knew he was being mean now, just looking to stir the pot. - Fun night?

- Why? Need some new jerking off material? - she crossed her arms, speaking in a manner and language that almost made him spit his coffee. - Who’s taking Sadie to school?

- Well, if you can still walk I’d say he did a pretty shit job, huh?

- I guess I’m taking Sadie to school. - she rolled her eyes. - And it’s none of your business.

- Well my employee is fucking another one of my employees. Maybe you should go to HR.

- Maybe I should and tell them that the boss is acting like an ass. Are you seriously still upset at me that I flirted with someone at your weird benefit? I’m single, I’m allowed to flirt!

- Not with Chris Davis. Seriously, Y/N, get a better taste in men.

- Because you have such a great taste in women. - she poured herself a cup of coffee. - Since you’re dressed, maybe you should take Sadie to school and see your favourite ego boosting group the PTA mums.

- Maybe I will.

- Picking Sadie up from school or do you want me to?

- Steve’s picking her up.

- Steve?

Steve.

////////////////////////////////////

taglist : @talesofadragon @themermaidscales82 @winters1917 @vladsgirlxx

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan/y/n #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky/reader #bucky x reader #bucky/you #bucky x you #bucky/y/n #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes imagine #bucky smut

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deconstructthesoup · 3 months

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All right, Fantasy High Leverage AU (which I still need a name for) commence:

Riz is the group's mastermind---a guy who quit his job at an insurance investigation agency after he found out that his father, who'd worked for the same agency and was thought to have died in an accident, actually got killed on the job. In the years since, Riz has kind of fallen into himself a little, trying and failing to get a private detective business set up as his mental health slowly gets worse... until he gets approached by someone who claims that something of his was stolen, and Riz is the only person he can trust to lead a team of highly prolific criminals to get it back. And this, of course, kicks off the formation of his new crew:

Gorgug is the group's hacker-slash-engineer, though everybody looks at him and assumes that he has to be the hitter. He grew up learning the ins and outs of computers and machines as a kid, and once he got the gist of it, he started figuring out what exactly he could and couldn't do---never because he was malicious, just because he was curious. This, of course, got him into a lot of legal trouble, and he's kind of gotten wrapped up into the criminal lifestyle because of it. He's the sweetest person ever, of course, which means that a lot of people tend to trust him.

Kristen is the group's hitter---a cocky wildcard who, after getting kicked out of her parents's house due to being a lesbian, didn't have a lot of other options besides joining the military. Though her rebellious nature got her into a lot of trouble, her ability to take a lot of hits and hit just as hard also got her noticed... by the wrong people. Needless to say, she's got a bit of a past, which she easily covers up by cracking jokes and acting as unhinged as possible. Underneath it all, though, she's still crawling out of a pretty dark place, and she both softens up and calms down once she finally starts receiving some actual external validation and support.

Adaine is the group's thief, though, again, people look at her and assume she's the hacker. She and Aelwyn both grew up in an old-money household and spent a lot of time around priceless antiques and art---and eventually, both of them responded to their parents's awfulness by taking up crime, though Aelwyn stole stuff for the Abernants and Adaine stole stuff from the Abernants. As time went on, the two sisters became incredibly talented thieves, all the while pretending to be your typical rich academics... until, of course, Adaine got caught and was promptly disowned by her family. Undeterred, she escaped, and managed to get quite the reputation in the criminal underground under her belt. Weirdly enough, she's also one of the most levelheaded and practical members of the group.

Of course, once their first heist goes wrong and they all realize that they've been tricked, Riz has to pull in some outside help in order to right their wrongs. And he does that by inviting a pair of stepsiblings that he'd run across when he still had his job...

Fig and Fabian are the two most accomplished and renowned grifters that the criminal world has ever seen, and nobody is still quite sure what their origins are---just that they're clearly not biologically related, and that they specialize in stealing art from rich people who can afford it. Fig's the kind of person who's incredible at improvisation and tends to act on the fly, and even her more impulsive actions wind up yielding results (though sometimes, there's unintentional consequences). Fabian, meanwhile, takes careful time crafting the perfect identity to sway his mark, and while Fig warns him about getting in too deep, he's never had that problem... yet. Both of them think very highly of Riz---hell, Fabian even had a thing for him before he realized that Riz wasn't interested in any of that---and both of them are more than happy to add more people to their crew. (And yes, their dynamic in this is partially inspired by Chirp and Squak---hey, two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou, meet other two chaotic charismatic sibling-types played by Emily and Lou.)

As for some of the others---Ragh takes the Jack Hurley route of being a mark that eventually switches to their side and becomes their lovable best friend, Ayda is a bookkeeper and researcher for Riz's old company who gets accidentally roped into one of their cases and winds up becoming an ally (and Fig's girlfriend), Tracker is a fellow hitter and an old "friend" of Kristen's, Aelwyn's the Archie Leach equivalent who's still semi-working for the Abernants, the Seven all start out as clients and form their own crew over the course of the series, and the Ratgrinders are a crew who start out as actual bad guys, though many of them eventually start working alongside Riz's crew. (Oisin's the hacker, Ivy's the thief, Mary Ann's the hitter, Ruben's the grifter, Kipperlilly's the mastermind, and Lucy's their old friend who hired Riz and everyone else to stop-slash-help them.)

So... yeah!

#fantasy high #the bad kids #leverage #riz gukgak #gorgug thistlespring #kristen applebees #adaine abernant #fig faeth #fabian seacaster #ragh barkrock #ayda aguefort #tracker o'shaughnessey #aelwyn abernant #d20 the seven #the ratgrinders

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onegirlatelier · 11 months

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October, 2023 | Two-pieced skirt from Southern Song Dynasty (intro+tutorial)

Introduction

(Note: for now I’m not making a bibliography for this article, but if you are interested I’m more than happy to send the sources.)

The two-pieced skirt (liǎng piàn qún) is a type of skirt from the Southern Song Dynasty (1127-1279). It is also known as xuàn qún (literal translation: circle/swirl skirt). As far I know, there are two sets of surviving samples of these skirts, one from the tomb of Ms Huang Sheng (this was her full maiden name - she died at 17, one year after getting married, in 1243) and the other from the tomb of Ms Zhou (also her maiden name - she died possibly at 35 and was buried in 1274). The main stylistic difference between these two sets of two-pieced skirts is that those of Ms Zhou had a relatively large difference between the hem and waist measurements (the hem is 15~20cm wider than the waist circumference), whereas those of Miss Huang Sheng had a small difference (approx. 10cm).

Below is a diagram showing the construction. The skirt is composed of one upper piece and one under piece. Each piece consists of two panels which are trapezoids or (roughly) rectangles. For the sake of convenience, we shall call them the centre panel and the side panel. You can see that the centre panels of the two pieces overlap, and the whole thing is fixed onto a waist band. All surviving samples have relatively wide waist bands—about 10-14cm in width. One strip on each side of the waist band is used to tie the skirt.

Pattern details

The modern common agreement is that the panels are usually right trapezoids (trapezoids with two right angles). I don’t know whether this is historically accurate, as some people think they were pentagons, but I doubt we can ever find out from what is currently available, just because the fabrics had been damaged and distorted over time. Assuming that they are right trapezoids, there are two different ways to piece the panels: you can sew the edges with two right angles together, or you can sew together the opposite edge with two non-right angles together (see diagram). They yield different results. A skirt made with the first method would have more of an A-line and more flowy. One made with the second method would wrap more snugly around the torso and give an H-shape.

You might have noticed that the centre panel is a bit wider than the side panel. This is because the centre panel would be worn in the back and the side in the front. A good starting point is to make the centre panel 10cm wider, but this of course depends on one’s body shape.

Another modern agreement is that the skirt better compliments a flat body shape with gentle curves (as has been the mainstream high-class aesthetics for the female body for a very, very long time right up to now). The most prominent issue with a difference between waist and hip measurements is that the skirt will bunch up at the lower back. To alleviate this issue, darts are used on the sides. Another way is to wear a petticoat, some underpants, or just something around the waist to enlarge the waist measurement. The skirt is not designed to accommodate a large difference between waist and hip circumferences (>30cm probably, though it starts to get difficult at 25cm).

Applying your measurements

(Numbers, when applicable, are in centimetres.)

You need your waist and hip circumferences. The skirt is usually full length. I like to make it as long as possible without the danger of tripping. It could be made shorter for thicker stiffer fabrics or a more modern look. Keep in mind that the skirt has a very high waist.

The length of the waistband is usually 1.7-1.9*waist circumference. In any case, it cannot be shorter than 1.3*hip circumference or it won’t close properly.

Now that you have the length of the waistband, you can calculate the upper edges of the panels. Let a be the length of the waistband, b the finished upper edge of the side panel. Then the finished upper edge of the centre panel is roughly b+10. Using the information discussed in the previous section, we have an equation: a=2b+b+10. This is your starting point—adjust as needed.

Triangular darts. There are a few ways to make them and this is just one of them. Let c be the width on each side of one dart. c=(hip-waist)/4. This means each dart will eliminate half of the (hip-waist) difference, and there are two darts.

c+b= total width on the upper edge of the panel. The bottom edge (i.e. the hem) of the same panel would be about 5cm wider than the upper edge.

The width of the waistband. If you would like to wear it without folding, 6-8cm is good. If wearing with a fold (which sometimes also helps reducing the bunching at the lower back), make it 10-14cm. Note that you need to cut the waistband doubling the width plus allowance.

The ties are usually 2-3cm wide. As for the length, try start from waist circumference+0.6*skirt length. I like to make it 20cm longer because I like long billowy ribbons. Like the waistband, you cut the ties doubling the width since you will fold it in sewing.

Then you would have something like this:

(measurements used: waist 65, hip 89)

Be careful that you need extra fabric because of the fold created at the dart. (You’d need less fabric if you cut away the excess fabric in the dart.)

Fabric suggestions

This is important. Very very important. Because only the right fabric is worth your time and produces the desired result.

In general, choose something soft, drapey and that conforms to your body. Two or three centimetres of difference in calculation hardly matters when you use a good silk.

Silk: a Chinese specialty called Luo is probably one of the best. Other types of soft drapey silks of medium weights are all fine. I don’t like the right side of silk charmeuse because it reflects the body curves a bit too much.

Viscose: use silk as a guide. I find that twill weave or crepe tends to be more drapey than plain weave.

Cotton/linen/wool: some of these are fine too. If using a thicker wool, only use it for the top piece and use a thin fabric for the under piece of the skirt.

An extra note on cutting out the pieces:

If you are making a skirt with contrasting colours/prints, pay attention to where you cut so that the best part of the pattern of the under piece can actually show through the slit.

Construction

Piece together the side panel and the centre panel, using French seams to make the side seam. Sew all the way from top to bottom.

Sew the dart and press it towards the back. (Alternatively, you can cut away excess fabric, or even make a pocket at the side seam.)

Do Steps 1 and 2 for both the upper and under pieces. Finish the allowances on the sides by folding twice and doing an invisible edge stitch. Leave the hem unfinished.

Lay the upper and under pieces together, baste and check fit. Sometimes the centre panel don’t overlap perfectly and that’s fine.

Finish the ties, including the shorter edge not attached to the waistband.

Sew the outer side of the waistband to the skirt panels by laying them right sides together. Press open.

Fold the waistband right sides together and sandwich the tie in between. If wearing the waistband unfolded, you need to attach the tie along the top of the waistband on the under wide and in the middle of the waistband on the upper side (see picture). Sew. Do this for both short edges of the waistband.

(You can interline the waistband if the fabric is too soft. I used a non-adhesive cotton interlining and cut it without allowance and stitched it onto the allowances of the skirt panels. Whatever method suits you should work.)

Turn the right side out and finish the inner side of the waistband by folding in the allowance and using an invisible stitch/felting stitch.

Finish the hem. For the corner, I prefer to do a three-fold corner so that I don't have to trim away the excess.

Wash and press. Et voilà!

#hanfu #sewing #sewblr #stories #dressmaking

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hellfirenacht · 11 months

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Wing Man Part 4

Fic Summary: Steve ‘the Hair’ Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you’ll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: Well, the arcade was a bust, but maybe going to a local dive bar and listening to music will yield better results.

4k words

a/n: This chapter is shorter than usual because my brain fried when writing it at work lol But we finally get to talk to Eddie without Steve cockblocking (too much)

Proof read? You have no proof I can read.

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It wasn’t until Monday after school that Dustin was able to make his way back to Family Video. After the night at the arcade, he’d been caught up with sneaking chats with Suzie and spending time with his mother. Not to mention the dentist appointment that caused him to miss a good chunk of Monday morning. If anything, dating and matchmaking be damned, Dustin had earned the treat of renting a movie and shoving candy into his newly cleaned teeth.

The freshman walked in, said hi to you and walked shamelessly into the back while you called after him half-heartedly that he wasn’t supposed to go back there before turning back to your conversation with Robin.

“Jesus, Henderson you can’t just barge into the back of any job I get!” Steve said as he sat in the break room. “I’m going to have to say no to you at some point.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ve talked about this.” Dustin said, sitting next to him in the small room, grabbing some of Steve’s chips. “Anyway, has she said anything about Saturday night?”

Steve watched in annoyance as his friend helped himself to his lunch. “No, she hasn’t said anything about what happened. When I clocked in she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Probably because we might have... totally ditched her.” Dustin admitted. “On accident! It wasn’t my idea!” He added quickly as Steve gaped at him.

“What?!” Steve was surprised. “Wait, what happened?”

“Well when the two of you left, Eddie decided that we were done and we all went to get pizza instead.” Dustin said. “I saw her when we were leaving.”

“Shit. So he saw her leave with me, which probably didn’t help.” Steve groaned. “Did Eddie say anything about her?”

“Yeah he... said he wasn’t interested.”

“Really? Shit. I knew he was a freak, but I didn’t think he had bad taste.”

“Why aren’t you dating her?” Dustin asked. “You won’t date Robin and now you won’t date her? Are you allergic to dating cool girls or something?”

“Robin and I are just friends.” Steve said firmly. “And who said I didn’t try to date her? I tried to ask her out once but she turned me down. She said I was ‘too normal’.”

There were tears streaming down Dustin’s face two minutes later from how hard he was laughing at that. Steve Harrington could get any girl in town, and got shot down by the wierdo.

“Yeah, yeah, get it out of your system, Henderson.” Steve groaned.

“She’s too good for you, Steve.” Dustin finally managed to say, calming himself down.

“So Eddie was a bust so I guess I’m back to square one.” Steve sighed. “I guess I could take her out to a bar and help her get numbers. If she can keep herself from saying something too weird for at least ten minutes it’d be easy.”

But it didn’t feel right. You already knew what you wanted, and any bar in town would just be filled with the same normal, boring people that you’d never had an interest in.

“You know... Eddie’s band plays at the Hideout.” Dustin said suddenly.

“Yeah, I thought we just established that wasn’t an option.” Steve frowned.

“Okay but hear me out, she liked Eddie, right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“So? So if she liked Eddie then she’d probably like someone who also likes Eddie. He told me that people come to watch his band play specifically.” Dustin was grinning wide.

“Henderson, you might be onto something.” Steve was starting to follow his friend’s logic. “If his fans like him, then she’d probably like his fans.”

“Precisely, Steve!”

The two of them grinned at each other as if they’d just cracked the code to helping you out. However, Steve was only aware of half the plan. That night at the arcade hadn’t been sitting right with Dustin since Eddie tore out of there like a bat out of hell with the rest of the club in tow. He’d seen the way Eddie had stolen glances at you when he thought no one was looking, and only Eddie could miss the way you had been staring at him as the two of you talked.

Dustin wasn’t sure what the hell Eddie’s problem was saying he wasn’t interested, but if Steve was giving him a chance to be nosy and meddle he was going to take it. You had been nice to Dustin this summer, and after starting the new hell that was high school he wanted to help you out. Eddie had been the only person who had been nice to him and Mike in school, and you had been nice out of it.

If this didn’t work he’d leave Steve to his own problem, but Dustin had this one last trick up his sleeve.

“So Eddie’s never talked about having an interest in anyone before?” Steve asked as he tossed his trash and handed over the remaining chips to Dustin.

“Not really. Jeff mentioned that he used to have a thing for some girl named Ronnie, and they all act really cagey about someone else named Paige.” Dustin said with a shrug.

“I have no idea who those people are.”

“I don’t either, they don’t talk about it much.”

“Alright, well I guess we’re gonna go to the Hideout.” Steve decided. “Wait, isn’t his band him and a bunch of high schoolers? How are they even allowed to play in a bar?”

“It’s a bar, not a club, Steve. They can be there, they just can’t drink. Legally.” Dustin decided not to share that Eddie had one or two fake IDs that the barkeeps were happy to overlook for Eddie at least.

“What do you know about clubs?” Steve was surprised. “The only club you should know about is your weird fantasy club.”

“I watch MTV, I know how some things work!”

The banter between the two continued until you showed up in the break room.

“Steve, your break ended fifteen minutes ago. If you get your butt to the front I’ll fudge the time sheet and say you just forgot to clock back in.” you said. “And Dustin, honey, I love you. You aren’t supposed to be back here. Actually, I don’t care because you’re a good kid. Just ask before you barge in, okay? If Keith’s here I’ll actually have to enforce that.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Dustin gave you a salute as the two of them made their way back to the front. When Steve took his place behind the counter, Dustin took a piece of paper out of his bag and handed it over.

“What’s this?” Steve took the paper, looking at the list of movie titles.

“My payment. I want these movies for my services. We had an agreement.”

“Jesus, Henderson you’re gonna give yourself nightmares with these.”

“Nothing’s been scarier than what we’ve been through.”

“Fair enough.”

You looked to be as thrilled to be at the Hideout on a Tuesday night as you would be at the DMV. You didn’t have anything against the place, but you didn’t have anything for it either. You’d been to bars a few times with friends with varying degrees of enjoyment. Hell, this wasn’t even the first time you’d been to this bar. Hawkin’s didn’t exactly have the biggest variety of places to drink in town, and this place was the town’s “old reliable”. Cheap enough for the blue collar workers to enjoy a cold beer after work, but with enough variety to have the young adults of the town fill up the booths on the weekends.

It was not the weekend though, it was a Tuesday night. A weird night for Steve to drag you out to a bar to help you get a date. As you swung your body on the barstool waiting on your drink you glanced around. There was a small, cramped stage set up in the back and a few older men were hanging around.

“So... Steve not to be terribly picky and not to sound ungrateful, but I’m not so sure about this.” You said, scanning the bar for anyone who didn’t look old enough to be your dad or grandpa.

“There’s a band that’s supposed to play tonight.” Steve said, pointing over to the stage. “I heard they’re about our age so I thought it’d be worth a shot.”

“A band?” You considered it. “What type of music are they supposed to play?”

“I think it’s a metal band.”

You snorted into your soda. “A metal band? In Hawkins? Oh, this I have to see.” You hopped off the stool to make your way over to the cork board that was covered in advertisements for the town. You scanned it until you found a flier that had been covered partially by an advertisement for lawn care.

CORRODED COFFIN- TUESDAY NIGHTS

That must have been it. It didn’t give you any information about the band, other than the name and when they played. The logo was hastily drawn on in black and red markers as if putting this up was a last minute idea. You pulled the paper off the board and repositioned it so that it was front and center instead. There, that was your good deed for the day; giving a small band an additional 8.5 by 11 inches of visibility.

“As usual, I have learned nothing.” You declared, taking your seat again. “I have a name and that’s it.”

“What’s the band called?” Steve asked.

“Corroded Coffin.” you replied. “Shouldn’t you know? This was your idea!”

“I was just told there was a metal band that played, I wasn’t given a name.” Steve had been given the name and immediately forgot in the near endless ramblings that Dustin had gone on about.

“You’re gonna think I’m crazy-”

“I already do.”

You laughed and continued. “You’re gonna think I’m crazy but the name sounds familiar.” Your legs were swinging off the stool, leaning back against the bar with your elbows. “How can you forget a name like that?”

Easily. Thought Steve.

A few more people were starting to show up now, though it was still pretty dead and slow. Even as people shuffled in and out of the small bar, there was no sign of anyone who you’d deem “age appropriate” for you.

“So you tried to set me up with a high schooler and now it looks like you’re trying to hook me up with someone twice my age.” You joked.

“Yeah, I was hoping there’d be more people here to choose from.” Steve looked around the room. Dustin had said that this band was supposed to have a crowd but he wasn’t seeing evidence of that anywhere.

“Ah well, even if tonight is another bust we can still have fun.” you gave him a playful punch. “If the band is bad we can bond over that, and if they’re good you probably won’t appreciate it and I’ll subject you to my every thought about it.”

“You do that anyway.” Steve breathed out a small laugh.

“I’ll be worse, cross my heart.”

It wasn’t long until the doors to the Hideout opened again, with two highschoolers struggling to fit a drum set through the doors. You snickered as they twisted the parts trying to adjust the bulky equipment. That’s right, the circular drum goes through the square hole.

“Steve, high schoolers.” you whispered. “Again?!”

But then you realized that the two teenagers looked familiar. Familiar in a fresh way. Familiar in a ‘Hey, didn’t I just see you the other day?’ way. Your stomach twisted as they finally managed to get through the door and make their way to the stage for set up.

“Hey, Steve, these kids look- shit.”

Your heart leapt in a way you didn’t expect when the man you’d poorly attempted to get to know just a few days ago walked through the door with a guitar case strapped to his back. He was laughing with another member of the band as they carried in an amp. Eddie didn’t even look your way as they made their way to set up on stage.

He played guitar. Of course he played guitar in a metal band. Jesus Christ, you were actually going to murder Steve and Dustin if this whole situation wasn’t going to kill you first. Eddie dropped his leather jacket on the side of the stage, leaving him in a band shirt that you couldn’t make out the name of in the dim lights. He had really nice arms (how had you missed the tattoos last week??), and the way he was smiling so genuinely and joking around with his friends made you feel fuzzy on the inside. He hadn’t looked like that when you two were talking-

“You’re drooling again.” Steve said.

You shook your head and quickly turned around, putting your back to the stage.

“Steve... what the fuck.” You hissed, glaring at him. “I know I didn’t exactly share what happened on Saturday, but I thought it was pretty clear that it didn’t go well.”

“Listen, I had no- I” Steve couldn’t lie to you. “Henderson said he’d be playing tonight, but I swear I’m not trying to hook you two up again. I really thought that when he said there’d be a crowd there’d be more freaks here!”

You smacked your head on the bar a few times with a groan. “It was so awkward. I told him I’d be right back but then when I went back in everyone was gone. He wasn’t interested in me.”

“His loss.” Steve said. “Listen, we’ll stick around for a few songs and if no one else shows up then we can leave, deal?”

“Deal.”

You tried to ignore the pounding in your heart as you pointedly refused to turn around. You didn’t even know why you cared so much that Eddie was there again. You had only talked for a half hour before he left, but the man had stuck in your mind since that night.

You had been attracted to guys before, but Eddie was on some other level.

“So, are you stalking me now, Harrington?”

FUCK.

“Nah man, just in the mood to do something different tonight.” Steve said, trying his hardest to play nice. He had to remember that this was for you, even though he was starting to like Eddie less after his disinterest in you.

“I didn’t take you as a man with music taste.” Eddie said. You hated that this man seemed to always sneak up on you. You finished off your drink and turned around to join the conversation before Steve made things worse.

Fuck it. It’s not like this could be any more awkward than how things were left off. You might as well have some fun.

“Actually this was my idea.” You said, lying through your teeth with a grin. “Steve here knows nothing about good music, so I thought I’d show him a little culture.”

Steve was now looking at you with his jaw dropped, wondering where the hell that came from. He looked offended, and Eddie? Eddie’s eyebrows shot up as recognition crossed his features as he looked at you.

“So you like metal?” Eddie said, his gaze now locked on yours. You felt an odd pounding in your heart as you looked up into those amazingly round brown eyes. “What’s your favorite band?”

It wasn’t a challenge. There was nothing in his tone to indicate that he was about to turn into a total dick about music, and that both put you at ease and made your attraction to him far worse.

“Well, Black Sabbath is always good.” you thought. “But I’m gonna have to go with WASP. I’d rate them a 69 out of 10 for being so damn horny in their songs.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up and he smiled wide, the same kind of smile he’d just given his band mates a few minutes ago. You licked your lips and felt Steve kick your foot, probably signaling you to stop drooling.

“So someone in this town does have good taste!“ Eddie was moving around more now, taking a few paces back and then back towards you clapping his hands.

“I don’t like to limit myself.” You said. “I’m always looking for new sounds and music. It’s like I feel like I’m suffocating if it gets too quiet.”

You winced internally at the statement, knowing that it was probably off putting but to your surprise Eddie only got more excited.

“Exactly!” He practically yelled.

How was it so easy to talk to him, and so hard at the same time? Why was it that every conversation so far had ended so awkwardly when moments like this felt easy?

“So how long have you been playing?” you asked, looking over at the stage where he’d set his case down.

“The band’s been playing together since we were in middle school, I started playing guitar around fifth grade. We’ve had a rotating cast of members, so I started it, and Jeff’s been there the longest after me.” he pointed to a member fiddling with his bass. “Zack and Gareth joined in high school.”

“And was Chris Morrison ever part of this band?” you teased.

“Fuck no!.” Eddie laughed. “My uncle would say that Chris couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket with a lid on. He tried to play manager. Tried. After seeing how he ran his campaigns, I wasn’t interested.”

“Didn’t he also run for student council once?”

“You remember those posters?!” there was a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Oh, he never ran. The rest of us were so done with how he was running Hellfire we put those up detailing why he was shit at leadership.”

“You’re kidding!” you gaped. “Jesus, you guys are weird.”

Eddie bent down in a joking bow. “I got a week’s detention for that stunt. I wasn’t the one who made most of them, but Higgin’s always had it out for me. Still does.” He mumbled that last part mostly to himself.

“Why do you two keep talking about Chris Morrison?” Steve asked, and you suddenly remembered that he was there too. Whoops.

“Common thread, apparently.” you shrugged. “It’s too easy to rag on the guy.”

“You had to be there.” Eddie said, as if you and Eddie were sharing connected memories that you were both part of rather than piecing together fragments of a puzzle where you were both corner pieces. The same picture, but never touching.

At least, as far as you were aware.

Steve was looking at you as if you were both insane. He was probably right.

“Okay, okay Steve’s right. I don’t want to talk about Chris fucking Morrison anymore.” you said. “How long have you been playing here, at the Hideout?”

“Every Tuesday for about 2 years, give or take.” Eddie said. “We started monthly, but we get a crowd now so they asked us to play weekly.”

“A crowd.” You nodded, looking around the dead bar. “Damn, I must be pretty lucky to have the front man talking to me when you have all these people here to see you.” Behind the joke, the tone you used was sincere and playful all at once. You sat up a little straighter, leaning towards him on your barstool.

That was a flirt. You just flirted. There was no taking that back. You were gonna have to commit now.

There was something boyish about the smile he returned, calm and relaxed. “Oh yeah, you should feel special. As you can see we have a crowd of about-” he turned to the rest of the bar, counting the patrons. “-Right, about four drunks. I guess Tim’s out today.”

“Well, make that four and a half drunks and also Steve is here.” you shook Steve’s shoulder playfully.

“Half?” Steve looked at you, pushing your hand off.

“I drove here, I can’t get wasted. But I can have one or two drinks and be fine.”

“Well, if you happen to bite off more than you can chew, I have room in my van for you.” Eddie said. “I could give you a ride.”

Well, that wasn’t what you had expected. Your stomach was flipping like an acrobat at the suggestion. He was offering you a ride home if you wanted to drink? After he’d disappeared on you? Just what was this guy's deal?

“If I’m biting my drinks that’s cause for concern. I’m pretty sure you’re not supposed to bite a drink.” Smooth, so fucking smooth. You might as well call yourself Skippy because you were as smooth as chunky peanut butter.

But Eddie just laughed and shook his head. “Yeah, you’re right. But the offer’s on the table. Or the bar, since you want to be literal.”

“I’ll think about it.” you said. “I don’t normally go home with men I just met at bars but if your band is any good I’ll consider it.”

His grin widened at that “Then I’ll be sure to tell the guys to pick up the slack tonight.”

That was a flirt, right? Eddie just flirted back with you. That had to be right? You almost wanted him to go away so that you could confirm with Steve that your suspicions about that line were correct.

“Eddie! Get over here and help with the amp, it’s doing the thing again!” One of the teens from the stage called out.

Eddie sighed and looked over at his band that was messing with the amp they had brought in. “Again? Alright, I have some tape in my toolbox.” he called back to them before turning to you. HIs eyes flicked over to Steve for just a split second before meeting your eyes again. “Talk to you after the set?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” you said, “After all you might be my ride home.”

And with that, Eddie turned and left.

“What was that?” Steve said immediately looking at you. “Where did that come from? Your idea? Going home with him?!”

“What?” you asked, taken aback. “You told me I should actually flirt, so I flirted!”

“Where was all that on Saturday?! Hell, where was that for the past two months we’ve had this deal going?” Your friend was looking at you like he hardly recognized you.

“Great question Steve, and it deserves a great answer.” you nodded. “I have no fucking clue. Maybe I’m exclusively attracted to guys that I don’t think I have a chance with?”

“He offered to drive you home.” His eyes darted over to the stage where Eddie had reappeared with a toolbox, messing with the amp. “I don’t know how you missed it but he was flirting with you.”

“Oh, good, I thought I was losing it.” you laughed. “Glad we got that established. Cool. Loving that. Now, on one hand he’s offering me a ride home. On the other hand, to get this supposed ride home I will have to intoxicate myself. Which sounds fun in theory but he’s also a guy I barely know.”

It should have been sketchy, it really really should have been. The only man you would trust to get your drunk ass home without worry right now would be Steve.

“Hey, can I get another one of these, please?” you asked the bartender, holding up your glass.

Once your refill came, you grabbed the drink and stood up. The band was finishing up the sound check and it looked like they were about to start.

“Come on, I want to sit closer. I’m feeling reckless tonight.” You grabbed Steve’s arm and dragged him to a table closer to the stage. Eddie made his way to the mic and smiled at you and your raised your glass to him with a smile.

“Thanks for coming out tonight, we’re Corroded Coffin and we’re here to make you feel like you’re fighting demons in hell!”

It was in that horrible, terrifying moment when the lights dimmed and the sound of an electric guitar ripped through the air, that you realized something; you were going to end the night with the biggest, stupidest, useless crush on Eddie Munson and there was nothing you could do about it.

Part 5

Dividers by @strangergraphics

I would also like to note that this is a work of fiction. You're allowed to make questionable decisions when playing with fake scenarios. Just roll with it.

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#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #wing man

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