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obsessivevoidkitten · 1 year ago

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Feeding

Male Half-Demon Yandere x Gender Neutral Vampire Reader CW: Noncon, blood drinking, biting/cutting for blood, making out, drugged sex, drugged reader, forced addiction, overstimulation, reader fucked well and truly out of their mind whilst high on demon blood, aftercare, general yandere behavior Word count: 1.6k (Sorry this took forever. The image of reader sitting on dick while sucking blood from a wrist was living rent free in my head and I had to write this. Written on my phone, hopefully I fixed all the weird formatting and typos.)

The full moon shone brightly in the clear winter night. With each exhale, your breath plumed out visibly. The shadows of trees stretched long and spindly, grasping for a material world they were incapable of grabbing hold of. You hid amongst the bushes, silently watching the small bar in front of you. It was a secluded place. Quiet and down the road from anything else. Perfect for a person to grab a drink. Even a vampire like yourself. This was your first night in this town, but there were almost always places like this to slake your thirst.

Wait for a drunk customer to come stumbling out and nab them to have a drink of your own. Then, if you needed to, use your hypnotic powers to make them think it was all a dream.

That's what you had intended tonight. But then you caught a whiff of a human that smelled much more tempting than any other you had ever encountered.

The bartender. Your sharp ears could pick up his name even from outside. Wade. Not that you needed to bother knowing it.

You decided to wait for the last lingering patron to leave the bar before sneaking in and making your move. It took a few hours, and your joints grew stiff in the cold, but finally, the bartender was alone, and you could make your move. You were practically salivating as you slipped into the bar, and his scent hit you more directly. You couldn't wait to taste what waited in his veins. Luckily, you didn't have to.

"Sorry, we've just closed," he said as he heard you enter.

With superhuman speed, you rushed behind him, barely having time to note the surprised expression on his face.

You wasted no time on pleasantries and sank your fangs into his neck.

Instantly, you were lost in his flavor. His blood was glorious. But after one drink, your eyes glazed and your thoughts were foggy.

He plucked you off of him easily, and you fell to the floor, dizzy and confused but yearning for more of him. You were so thirsty. A mild sense of euphoria washed over you, but your body felt weak and wobbly.

Wade stared down at you, smirking. His brown hair turned silver, small black horns sprouted from his forehead, and his hazel eyes glowed red.

"What's wrong? Bit off more than you could chew?"

Not much blood had been consumed, so you started to get to your feet, but Wade wanted you nice and helpless. He rubbed his fingers to the bite mark you had left and shoved his fingers into your mouth and smeared the drug on your tongue. You immediately slumped against the counter.

He went and locked up the bar before returning to your side and administering another hit of his blood. You eagerly drank it up. It was too irresistible.

Then he gently led you downstairs where he apparently lived.

"Didn't realize I was part demon or didn’t know demon blood was like a narcotic? Maybe you didn't know either of those..."

He tossed you on the bed rather unceremoniously.

"Thought you were gonna get an easy meal, but you're gonna feed me too!"

Assuming that he ate beings with magic, you looked up at him with a horrified expression and scrambled to get off the bed. He stopped you and pushed you back.

"I'm nourished by intoxication and addiction the way sex and lust nourishes an incubus," he explained, having noted the fear on your face.

Though you still had a fierce thirst for his blood, you weren't addicted. Yet. Just significantly increased blood cravings. You had the presence of mind to know what he intended, and you didn't want to be a captive.

"You can't do this!"

The effects of his blood on your body were rapidly wearing off. It had only been a small amount. You could use your speed to zip awa-

"I can do whatever I want to a little leech like you~"

Wade pinned you on the bed and used the sharp nail of his thumb to slice his wrist before shoving his wrist to your mouth. You tried to turn away and keep your mouth closed, but you could feel the warm blood tingle your lips, and the smell was all-encompassing. Tired of your struggles, he smacked you hard across the cheek. You could have shrugged off a strike from a normal human, but he had demonic strength. As he had anticipated, you cried out in pain. With your mouth open, he jammed his bloody wrist right into your mouth.

Once a drop had touched your tongue for the third time that night, all your resolve melted away. You relaxed under him and greedily lapped at his wrist. Now that it was in you, you needed more.

As you gave into your dark desires and fed off Wade, he fed off the intoxication and the budding addiction growing inside you.

But the whole situation had his cock straining painfully in his jeans.

He maneuvered your clothes off as well as his, but your attention was focused on your meal. You whimpered and grabbed for his arm as he pulled it away to lube up his cock. Just because he was doing this for nourishment didn't mean he couldn't have some fun. Besides, being all cute and needy for his blood made you look far too tempting for the half-demon.

He pulled you into his lap and slid his thick cock into you.

Wade put his arm up to you so you could suckle from his wrist as he slowly fucked into you. A large demonic cock like Wade's would have stretched and hurt the hole of any human, but you were far more durable. In fact, it felt quite nice. His blood seemed to heighten pleasurable sensations while reducing unpleasant ones.

You moaned softly as you fed.

"That's it, take alllll you want babe. I regenerate faster than you can drink."

It must have been true. His wound had healed and you had to bite his wrist to draw more blood. He didn't seem to mind.

The demon kissed your neck and sucked it softly as he continued pumping into you. Never too hard to interrupt your meal.

He kept the slow and considerate pace until you had finished. Blood was smeared all over the lower half of your face, your eyes glossy and half lidded. You were barely cognizant of your surroundings anymore. All you knew was that you felt warm, happy, relaxed and, for the first time since you had turned, alive.

Wade angled your face towards him and kissed you deeply from behind, enjoying the taste of blood from your lips and the rush of energy he got from getting you high. He brushed his tongue against your fangs to draw blood so you could suck it while the two of you made out sloppily. The half-demon broke the kiss, a sanguine string of saliva and blood connected your lips for a moment. Wade hastened the tempo of his thrusts into you as his mind raced over the implications of having you.

A human would have died from just a drink of demon's blood. That's why he blended each bottle of booze in his bar with but a single drop. Just enough to subconsciously coax humans to crave coming back to his bar and give Wade a bit more intoxication to sustain himself. But he didn't have to hold back with you at all.

Rapturous moans left your body as your pleasure reached its zenith. Your normally frighteningly pale face was actually flushed.

"You enjoying yourself?" Wade smirked and kept going.

You could only weep silently as the overwhelming sensations from the drug and sex mingled into an overwhelming wave of ecstasy bearing down brutally upon you.

With supernatural stamina he kept going for hours, he readministered his blood as needed. Every time he made you cum you whimpered. Each orgasm seemed to hold within it a greater and greater threat of throwing you off the brink of sanity and shattering your mind.

By the end of it, when he had finally had enough after filling you with cum over and over again, you were a shaky drooling mess. His demonic features faded away as he picked you up. Then he took you to the tub and bathed you gently, getting all the dried blood off your face and cleaning up all the semen leaking from your hole.

"Sorry I had to give you so much. Have to get you hooked on it."

Wade picked you up and wrapped you in a soft towel. You were too out of it to respond.

"The crashes aren't bad though at least. Extreme cravings but no life threatening illness or anything."

He kissed your forehead and tucked you in before getting under the covers and spooning you.

"You're gonna love it here I promise. All the blood you want. I'm not just keeping you here to feed me, I could see glimpses inside your mind when your inebriation nourished me."

The half-demon ran a hand soothingly up and down your side.

"I know we're compatible lovers. You'll see."

You could hear his words but could just barely process them.

"B-but.." You protested weakly.

"Hush now. You need to rest."

He put his arm around your waist and held you protectively. It was so much easier to just let sleep claim you than it was to resist.

Wade stayed up far longer though. All the thoughts of the wonderful life you two would share together running through his head and keeping him awake. It would be amazing. He couldn't wait for tomorrow.

He'd treat you so well and make sure his little vampire was always happy. And he'd keep you hopelessly addicted to his blood. You'd be so helpless and dependent on him that you'd simply never be able to escape.

#yandere teratophilia #yandere terato #yandere x reader #monster boyfriend #gender neutral reader #yandere monster #male yandere x gn reader #my ocs #yandere boyfriend #yandere #male yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere male #yandere x you #yandere demon #yandere half-demon #vampire reader #My OC Wade

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aurumalatus · 9 months ago

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𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year.

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much��so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect.

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue.

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer.

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places.

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks.

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops.

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly.

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him.

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side.

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now.

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure.

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing.

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his.

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kinich x reader #kinich #kinich x you #genshin impact #genshin impact imagines #adeptus ink

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corruptedcaps · 5 months ago

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Travel Size: Alex

This is a sequel to my last story, Travel Size. Enjoy!

Alex waited impatiently for the bus while refreshing the social media feeds on her phone.

"Thank god, they're still partying." Alex said to herself as she watched a newly posted video on Becky's Instagram. In the video Becky, Cassie and Bianca were all dancing in a club surrounded by hot guys. A part of Alex was jealous but a stronger part of her was thankful that the newly made bitches were keeping themselves distracted.

It had only been a few hours since Alex had witnessed her best friends be turned into evil reflections of themselves. She couldn’t shake the horrifying images of Becky, Bianca, and Cassie transforming into arrogant, wicked versions of themselves.

That was why Alex was waiting on a bus. She needed to get back to college and more specifically she needed to get to Amber's sorority and find whatever regular sized vibrator she had and destroy it. If the travel size could create bitches like Becky and her friends, she shudder to think what a full sized one could unleash.

She didn’t even know if Amber owned a larger one or where she would keep it but she knew once it dawned on Becky that one could exist, then she would stop at nothing to get it. Alex had to destroy it.

After giving up on the bus, Alex hitchhiked most of the way back to their college town and finally arrived at Amber’s sorority house just after 5pm. It was an imposing, over-the-top building, complete with pristine landscaping and a giant Greek-lettered sign on the front but it was also empty thanks to the out of state cheerleading finals. Alex’s heart hammered as she climbed the steps to the door.

As she went to grab the handle of the door it suddenly swung open to reveal the tall, chiseled frame of a guy with sharp green eyes and attractively messy brown hair. Alex knew him as Amber’s trust fund boyfriend Max. His gaze swept over Alex, skeptical and faintly amused.

“Who are you?” He asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Alex stammered, trying to think of a plausible excuse. “Uh… hi, I’m one of your girlfriend’s friends. I, um, left something in her room the last time I was here.”

He smirked faintly. “You’re one of Becky’s friends?” He didn’t even try to hide his disbelief.

Alex panicked, it was worse than she thought. The vibrator had somehow warped reality so Amber wasn’t the top bitch on campus, Becky was. Alex figured she was spared from the memory of this new reality because she was present during its formation. But, she thought, this new world could work in her advantage.

“Okay, okay. The truth is… Becky’s not exactly my friend, not anymore. We used to be friends but then she decided I was better off being her victim. She makes me do her homework. And on the last assignment, I forgot to take my name off it. If she finds out, I’m dead.”

His smirk grew. “So, she’s your bully?”

Alex nodded earnestly, leaning into her pitiful act. “Yeah. Please, I just need to fix it before she gets back. I swear, I’ll be quick.”

He studied her for a long moment, then sighed, stepping aside. “Fine. But make it fast. Becky will kill me if she finds out I let you in.”

Alex rushed past him, her heart pounding. The sorority house was even more intimidating on the inside, filled with pristine furniture, expensive décor, and an air of unearned superiority. She climbed the grand staircase, the sound of her sneakers echoing against the marble floors, and found Becky’s room at the end of the hall.

It was just as she’d imagined, pink and white with designer everything. The bed was piled high with silk pillows, and the vanity sparkled with countless beauty products. Pictures showing Becky, Cassie and Bianca adorned the walls. Alex moved quickly to the nightstand, opening the drawer and rummaging through it until her fingers brushed against something cold and smooth.

She pulled it out and froze. There it was. Amber’s, now Becky’s, full-sized pink vibrator. It was twice the size of the one Becky had used, and its shiny surface gleamed ominously in the dim light. The words ‘Mega-Bitch’ embossed on its surface. Alex didn’t know why, but she knew if she destroyed it everything would go back to normal.

She picked it up carefully, her hands trembling. It looked so absurdly normal, for a vibrator, and yet it radiated an eerie power she could almost feel. She turned it over, inspecting it as if expecting it to spring to life.

“Okay, Alex.” She whispered to herself. “Just snap it in half. Do it. Right now.”

But as she tightened her grip, her eyes caught her reflection in the massive mirror over Becky’s dresser.

She froze. The mirror reflected every insecurity she had tried to ignore. Her plain, unremarkable features, her frizzy hair, her uneven skin, her awkward posture. She looked every bit the nobody she felt she was, standing in the middle of a room that belonged to someone who had everything.

Her breath hitched. The vibrator seemed to hum faintly in her hands, almost as if it were alive, urging her to act.

“Just one time.” A small, insidious voice whispered in the back of her mind. “What’s the harm? You deserve to be beautiful too, don’t you? Confident. Powerful. Somebody.”

Alex’s fingers hovered over the power button, trembling. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. She thought of Amber and her bitchy friends, she thought of her own corrupted friends, Becky, Cassie and Bianca. “No, I’m not like them.”

But when she opened her eyes again, the reflection in the mirror seemed to mock her, daring her to prove herself wrong. It looked like her, but the face twisted into a cruel smirk, the kind she’d seen on Amber’s face countless times.

“That’s right.” Her reflection sneered, its voice dripping with malice. “You’re not like them. They’re perfect, beautiful, untouchable. And you?” It laughed, the sound sharp and cutting. “You’re plain. Boring. Ugly. A nobody.”

Alex’s chest tightened as she tried to look away, but her reflection leaned closer, impossibly close, as though it were pressing through the glass.

“You’ll never be anything more than this. They’ll always walk all over you. Always look down on you. Unless…” It hissed

Alex’s breath hitched. “Unless what?”

The reflection’s smirk widened. “Unless you stop pretending you don’t want it. You felt it, didn’t you? The power in your hands. You could be more. No, you could be better. You could be everything. But you’ll never have the guts.”

Alex’s fingers hovered over the power button. “I… I can’t.”

“Of course you can’t. You’re weak. Always have been. Always will be. You don’t have what it takes to be one of them. You’ll always be nothing.” The reflection said, mocking.

Something inside Alex snapped. With a surge of anger, she pressed the button, and the vibrator whirred to life in her hands. The power of the vibration was so strong that her eyes instantly rolled back in her head and her clothes exploded from her body leaving her bare naked. It was a more powerful sensation than Becky had experienced, one designed to instantly enthrall and it worked as her lips curled into a smirk. She was a woman possessed.

Laying down on Becky’s plush bed, Alex lowered the vibrator in between her legs, the vibrator's hum filling her ears as she pressed it against her eager pussy. "Yessss!" She moaned, the sensation overwhelming, igniting a fire within her.

As she continued, her transformation began. Her hair turned from a mousy brown to a mouth-watering platinum blonde cascade, thick and shiny, framing her face in a way that screamed 'hot'. Her lips swelled, becoming juicy and inviting, perfect for both seduction and sneers. Her nails lengthened, sharp and glossy, adding to her newfound, bratty look.

"Fuck, yesssss!" She groaned, her breasts expanding, becoming fuller, rounder, making her silhouette undeniably sexy. The change in her body was not just physical, it was as if each vibration was sculpting her into something more... bitchy, more dominant.

"Yes, make me into an evil bitch! Make me into THE evil bitch!" She hissed, her voice filled with a provocative edge. Her skin seemed to glow, becoming flawless and tempting, the kind of beauty that could make anyone falter.

Her moans grew louder, more demanding, as if each sound was peeling away layers of her former self. "Fuck, yesssss, Becky and Amber are fucking nothing compared to what I’ll be!" She yelled, her body writhing in ecstasy, the pleasure morphing her into someone unrecognizable. Her curves became more pronounced, her posture more confident, her entire being radiating an aura of superiority.

As her orgasm crashed over her, it was like the final seal on her new identity. Her good nature was gone, replaced by a cold disdain, her vanity now immense, her once gentle soul now filled with a bratty, bitchy darkness.

All the pictures in the room changed to images of her. No friends, just her. All she needed was herself.

"Pathetic." She sneered at the thought of her old self, her new voice dripping with scorn. "I was such a waste before. Now, everyone will see, everyone will know... I am the queen."

Sitting up, her reflection was no longer mocking her. It was her, and it grinned back at her with the same ferocity she felt inside. Alex was no more. In her place was a vision of sexy, unapologetic power, ready to cast her shadow over the campus, leaving a trail of awe and submission in her wake. She was Lexi now.

After her transformation, Alex walked over to her new closet with graceful and assured strides. She took pleasure in imagining herself in each of the expensive and revealing outfits but eventually she selected items that would showcase her new, sexy persona.

First, she slipped into a white lace bra that cradled her now fuller, more voluptuous breasts, the delicate material contrasting sharply with her transformed body. The bra seemed almost too small, hugging her curves in a way that was both provocative and flattering.

Next, she pulled on a short black skirt, the hemline daringly high, revealing her shapely legs. The fabric clung to her hips, accentuating her figure in a way that screamed for attention. Her hands then glided over her legs as she donned shear lace black tights, their intricate pattern adding a layer of mystery and danger to her ensemble.

She sat back on the bed, snapping pictures of herself, admiring her reflection. The outfit transformed her into the epitome of seductive power, her previous nerdy self now just a distant memory.

"Look at me, I'm perfect." She whispered to her reflection, her voice a mix of pride and the new, bratty confidence.

Max had heard the moans and, concerned, decided to check on Alex. What he found was not the nerdy girl he had let in but a transformed vision, a beautiful goddess.

For a second his mind was awash with confusion until reality settled in his mind and new memories solidified. Lexi was the baddest bitch on campus, a beautiful terror who dripped of bratty arrogance and she was all his.

He still remembered when he brought her to meet his rich parents and how quickly they took to her but he remembered that night more for Lexi’s ability to give him a handjob under the dinner table without his parents realizing.

"What some company?" Max asked, his voice smooth and confident.

Lexi looked at him, her eyes drinking him in. Her new body ached to be touched and worshipped by another. He would do. Without a word, she curled her finger, beckoning him closer with a smirk that promised both danger and pleasure.

As Max stood before her, she reached up, pulling him into a deep, passionate kiss. Their lips met with an intensity that spoke of desire and conquest. Lexi's hands roamed over Max's body, pulling him onto the bed with her.

"Fuck me like you've never fucked anyone." Lexi whispered into his ear, her voice a sultry command.

Max, overwhelmed by the raw sexuality she exuded, didn't need any encouragement. His hands explored her newly curvaceous form as she undid his pants. Lexi moaned, her voice now a mix of pleasure and triumph as she felt his big cock slide into her, his thrusts deep and rhythmic.

Their bodies moved in sync, each movement more desperate than the last. Lexi wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper, her nails digging into his back as she arched into him, meeting his every thrust with equal fervor. The room filled with the sounds of their passion, her moans mixing with his grunts, the bed creaking under their intensity.

Lexi felt powerful, each movement a step towards taking what she wanted. She looked into Max's eyes, her own filled with a victorious gleam. "Harder you big dick bastard!" She urged, her voice dripping with a mix of need and command. Max, lost in the moment, obeyed, driving into her with a force that made her scream in ecstasy.

As Max felt the familiar tension building towards climax, Lexi, with a mischievous glint in her eye, suddenly reoriented their positions, pushing his back onto the bed so she could mount him. Her pussy expertly gripping his cock, holding his orgasm at bay. He groaned, the pleasure almost too much to bear, yet there he was, teetering on the edge without release.

"What are you doing?" Max managed to ask, his voice strained with need.

Lexi leaned close, her breath hot against his ear. "I'll let you cum, if you let me stick this up your ass as you do." She said with a grin as she produced the big vibrator.

Max shook his head, trying to resist the overwhelming sensation. "No way! If the guys find out I’ll never hear it down." He gasped out, though his body betrayed his words, craving the release.

With a grin that was both seductive and cruel, Lexi began to lift herself off him. "Okay, then, suit yourself." She said, her tone teasing, starting to dismount.

But Max couldn't let her go. The need to cum was too intense, his body overriding his fear of reprisal. With a desperate move, he pulled her back down onto him. "Fine! Do whatever you want!" He pleaded, his resolve crumbling under the pressure of his unfulfilled desire.

Lexi's grin widened, enjoying the power she wielded over him. She leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, "Good boy. You’ll love it, I swear."

She inserted the vibrator into his butt while his cock was still deep inside her. She didn't turn it on immediately, instead, she began to move her hips in slow, teasing circles, keeping him on the edge, prolonging his torment for her own amusement.

"Please!" Max begged, his hands gripping her hips, trying to guide her movements.

“Please what?” Lexi said enjoying watching him squirm.

“Please… turn it on.” He groaned, desperate for sweet release.

With an evil grin she switched it on and Max began to shudder with ecstasy as but then felt an immediate, strange sensation. As the vibrations coursed through him, his body began to change. His features softened, his skin became smoother, his hair lengthened and darkened into a rich, flowing mane. His muscles reshaped, and his frame became more slender, more feminine.

“W-what the hell is happening to me?” Max whine, his voice going up several octaves. Lexi simply smirked as she felt his cock shrink inside her, gradually disappearing until it was replaced by a slick, new pussy.

The transformation was surreal for Lexi but weirdly erotic as well but what happened next pumped the erotism into high gear. The vibrator, now buzzing without her hand on it, suddenly grew pink bands that wrapped themselves around her waist, turning into an impressive strap-on.

"Mmmm now, let's see how you like it." Lexi said with a smirk, beginning to thrust with the new strap-on. Max, now Maxine, felt waves of pleasure unlike anything she had known before, her body responding in ways she never could have imagined.

"Please, Lexi!" Maxine moaned, her voice now higher, more feminine, filled with both confusion and ecstasy.

Lexi continued, her movements deliberate, claiming her new conquest. "You're mine now bitch, in every way! I’m your queen." She whispered, her voice dripping with dominance and satisfaction as she watched Maxine's transformation continue under her influence.

However the strap-on itself started to evolve even more. The base started to grow backwards towards Lexi, creating a long thick shaft that slithered into her pussy. Lexi’s eyes rolled back in pleasure and she felt a euphoria like nothing she had felt before. The vibrator seemed to speak to her, giving itself to her. It recognized her as a true wicked bitch for her act of transforming Max and opened her mind to its power and its secrets.

Lexi came again but this time it was as much a mental release as a physical one. She could see the way the vibrator could warp reality, how it could twist people it corrupted and she now had control over it. She would make Maxine’s new reality whatever she wanted.

The pleasure built, and with a final, deep thrust, Maxine reached her orgasm, her new body shuddering in delight, her new persona erasing Max entirely from her own mind and from reality.

In this reality, Maxine was Lexi’s cum slave, who lived to please her mistress and do everything that she commanded. She was her devoted little pet. Lexi would send Maxine to prowl the campus for hot guys and round them up for parties. Maxine was an expert at finding the hottest, richest guys that would vie for Lexi's attention.

However, Lexi had a new group in mind to round up for her now.

“Maxine, I have a special job for you. I need you to bring me Amber, Becky, Cassie and Bianca one by one to my room when they come back from their trip. Do you understand?” Lexi said as she pulled out of Maxine making the girl groan.

“Y-yes mistress. But why those four? They are just common sisters of the sorority.” Maxine asked.

Lexi stood up from the bed and walked once again to the closet. Her outfit had been ruined by the energetic fucking and she needed a change. Once opened she spotted a shiny reflective dress that would be perfect for the rest of the evening, no matter how 'energetic' she would become.

After doing a few twirls, approving all her angles, she strode over to Maxine with the vibrator in hand. As she walked in her 6 inches heels the straps flowed back into it and disappeared as if they had never been there. Although Lexi knew she could make them appear if she wanted. She felt a symbiotic link to the device now that Amber never had.

“Take this and use it on yourself.” Lexi grinned holding out the vibrator.

Maxine looked at the vibrator with reverence and even desire but she couldn’t bring herself to even stretch her arm out.

“N-no mistress. I couldn’t.” Maxine said dropping her head. Lexi smirked and put the vibrator into her side drawer.

“That’s why I want those girls specifically brought to me. They need to… reconditioned. But don’t worry, you’ll still be my number one slave.” Lexi said as she tilted Maxine’s chin up.

“Now go, they won’t be back for at least a day and I have some planning to do.” Lexi said her brief moment of warmth turning icy cold again.

Maxine rose from the bed and left the room quickly. Lexi loved the power she now had over her and couldn’t wait to break in the other girls.

She looked at her wicked reflection and it seemed to smile back and gesture to the side drawer. “Mmm why not, I deserve it.” She smirked as she opened the drawer and took out the vibrator and held it in her hand. Only this time she didn’t press it to make it rumble, instead it seemed to come on based on her thoughts. Even the button had disappeared.

As she slipped it into her wanting pussy she knew her reign was only starting and no one would be able to take it from her.

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #magic #evil bitch #evil couple #power transfer #cc2025 #travelsize #corrupted item

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kookie-doughs · 4 months ago

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What's Wrong With The Slytherins?

Slytherin Gang X Reader

-Y/N L/N accidentally gets invited in a group chat.

Chapter 1: I'm Going To Leave

You're lost in your own world, a smile playing on your lips as you reread the exchange with the gang.

"L/N!" Athena's voice, sharp and clear, slices through the hum. You blink, pulled back to reality. She stands with hands on hips, fiery hair framing her face, a mock glare masking a playful glint in her eyes.

"Bloody hell, Y/N," she chuckle, peeking at the held device. "I've been calling you for ten minutes! What's got your attention?"

A blush, warm as embers, bloomed on your cheeks. "Phone? I was..." Contemplating whether to share the event to her or keep to yourself you smiled, deciding against it not long after as its much easier that way to keeo your identity secret. "Just lost in thought, that's all."

The suspicion lingering in Athena's emerald eyes was palpable, but she wisely held her tongue. "I have DADA with Ced," she announced, linking her arm with yours. "Let me walk you to Charms before then. Maybe along the way, you'll feel like... enlightening me about your sudden trance."

You chuckled, the warm sound hollow as you clutched the secret close. As you ambled through the throng, a murmur rippled through the crowd, the path ahead inexplicably clearing. Heads swiveled, whispers fluttered on the breeze. "It's Tom Riddle," a student breathed, their voice laced with a swooning awe that made your stomach churn.

Athena tugged you discreetly to the side, her gaze fixed on the approaching figure. Tom Riddle. Tall, regal, with an aura of power that seemed to hang in the air like incense. You followed his path with your eyes, your heart doing a clumsy tap dance in your chest.

It wasn't that you weren't in love with him, you just weren't like the simpering girls who practically melted at his smile. No, you'd seen past the polished exterior, glimpsed the darkness simmering beneath the charm. Tom Riddle was smart, yes, dangerously so. Handsome, undeniably. Nice? Hardly.

Yet, a part of you, a reckless, foolish part, couldn't deny a grudging admiration. He was fascinating, an enigma wrapped in a riddle. And now, the mystery seemed to brush against you, you had garnered his attention.

The world narrowed to just him, his dark hair catching the dying sunlight, his lips quirking in a sardonic smile. You forgot Athena, forgot Charms, forgot everything but the pull of the shadows he cast.

Was it fear? Excitement? Curiosity? Had he figured you out? You didn't have the answer, not yet. But as Tom Riddle's gaze brushed yours, you knew this was just the beginning.

The final chime of the bell echoed through the corridor, signaling the start of Charms. You watched Athena skip off to DADA, her eyes still sparkling with Tom Riddle's afterglow.

As you settled into your Charms seat, your gaze couldn't help but stray towards the door. Every rustle of robes, every whispered word, made your head snap up in hope. Would Tom, just for a moment, glance your way? Would he recognize the clues you'd left scattered?

You'd subtly moved your quill to point in his direction during Professor Flitwick's lecture, hoping he'd catch the unspoken message. You'd let out a small cough whenever your eyes met his in the bustling hallways, a barely-there sound only he might understand.

Professor Flitwick, perched on a pile of enchanted textbooks, noticed your gaze wandering once too often. His sharp eyes, twinkling behind oversized spectacles, darted towards you. "Miss L/N," he squeaked in a voice surprisingly booming for his stature, "would you care to demonstrate the Summoning Charm for the class?"

Panic seized you. Your mind, tangled in Tom Riddle's cryptic magic and unspoken attraction, was barren of spell formations. Yet, to your surprise, Tom's gaze met yours, a faint glint of amusement dancing in his brown eyes. It was as if he'd seen right through you.

Taking a deep breath, you channeled the image. You flicked your wand, whispering the incantation with newfound confidence.

A hush fell over the classroom. Professor Flitwick, despite his diminutive stature, clapped his hands with glee. "Excellent, Miss L/N! As expected from a L/N!" His praise washed over you, but your eyes remained fixed on Tom.

A thrill coursed through you, a dangerous mix of fear and excitement. Tom locked eyes with you and wrote something down. Does he know? Would he befriend you? Are you gonna get closer with him? Or had you simply drawn the attention of a dangerous predator?

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Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay

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chieltbest · 28 days ago

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I just found out that pretty much all mipmaps in sims 2 cc are too blurry

While working on my package editor (which I'll make a post about later) I found out that pretty much all DXT-compressed textures in sims 2 cc have blurry mipmaps! Meaning that for most textures, if you zoom out slightly the texture will become blurry.

What, why, and how

Meepmops? What are those and why would I care?

Mipmaps are used in computer graphics to make textures look smoother when viewed at a distance. There is also some evidence that having mipmaps might help with texture memory (post by @episims). In essence, you take the original image and then combine four pixels into one to create an image that is 2x smaller in width and height than the original, then repeat this process until finally you get an image that is 1x1 pixel.

One complication is that mipmaps will not work if the smallest texture is not 1x1 (post by @pforestsims) meaning that if you don't have the maximum amount of mipmap levels possible, the game will only use the largest texture. This is a good thing, because that means the game will reject malformed textures, but it also means quite a lot of textures with mipmaps in cc don't actually work correctly.

That's also why you shouldn't make images which are not a power of two; if it's not a power of two you can't keep dividing the image by two to end up at a 1x1 pixel image, meaning you can't make proper mipmaps.

Why are the mipmaps blurry?

After some experimentation I've managed to find the cause of the blurry mipmaps:

All mipmaps made with Nvidia DDS Utilities are blurry. Yes, you read that correctly. And yes, it's exactly as bad as you're imagining.

For the uninitiated, Nvidia DDS Utilities has been the primary tool that sims 2 cc creators use when importing textures for pretty much as long as the game has been out. In SimPE you would click the texture, then select "Build DXT..." and that would open the dds utilities and allow you to import the texture.

So how many files are affected? By doing a scan of a 20GB downloads folder that was graciously donated to me I could get some raw numbers on the amount of textures that might be blurry. Let's have a look:

total textures: 107892

number of textures compressed in DXT: 98683 (91%)

number of DXT textures that have mipmaps: 69527 (70%)

DXT textures with not enough mipmaps to show up in game: 54709 (55%)

overall, 54709 out of 107892 (50%) of textures in this folder are blurry when zoomed out in game

How do I fix this?

Here's the good news: you can fix this! Kind of.

First of all for cc creators, let's take a look at how you can make good looking mipmaps.

The process is pretty simple: open the original texture is GIMP, export the texture, then select DDS as the format and use the following settings as a reference.

Now in SimPE right click the image, select "Import DDS..." and open the .dds file that you've just exported.

Now it is possible to do this process by first exporting the texture from SimPE, but the mipmaps that creates will never be as good as the ones made from original texture, along with it being an absolute massive time sink to do that on every single downloaded texture.

In a little while I'm going to officially release my package editor yape, which will hopefully make the process a little easier, and after that I'm going to look into adding an option into my texture search tool batl to recalculate the mipmaps for all the textures in a folder, but for now the GIMP export process sadly really is the easiest way.

#simblr #sims 2 #the sims 2 #ts2 #sims 2 cc

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sam-keeper · 12 days ago

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Hey Look At This Comic: Smut Peddler Presents Pitch Black

I can't remember how we got on the subject of the comics that my friends Iris Jay and Nero Villagallos O'Reilly did for an old Iron Circus april fools bit. maybe we were chatting about Megan Delyani's blank frame comic Spaces, which I wrote a whole review of last year, but it might just as easily have been talking about comic structure generally. cause we're huge nerds. being a huge nerd, I was all over the premise of the joke: a fake kickstarter for a Smut Peddler volume full of comics with all blacked out panels.

it's a great gag, a full webpage duping the Kickstarter layout, with a fun tongue in cheek explanation: comics don't leave enough up to the imagination, there aren't enough interpretive gaps for the reader, so to fix that Smut Peddler will publish a bunch of Pitch Black comics where YOU have to provide the visuals. Joke, maybe, but it lends credence to frame-focused models of comics reading: it's not the images that make something a comic, but the breakdown of page space into discrete units. So goes one theory, anyway. How do these pages fare without their images?

Lin Visel deploys a regular grid of long, thin columns, with a kind of horizontal capital at the top. The speech bubbles drive a lot of the action here and there's a sense of simultaneous movement across the bottom, with the bubbles breaking the panel borders at the top and the sound effects flowing into each other below. So, there's an interesting division between the upper strip, which is relatively subdued, a moment of reassurance that exists almost in its own zone before the rush of the bottom. And, as we'll see with a bunch of the others, in the absence of images the style of the text, the shape of the word balloons, and the font colors all become more crucial to conveying what's happening (sex, to be clear). That's already a lot going on with a series of black panels.

I love how Iris's comic bakes an explanation for the blacked out panels into its narrative. The apparently dominant character gloats that her streaming site won't let her actually display the brutal force-fem pegging she's giving to some shitty gamer bro. Sure enough, at the bottom of that panel there's a black and white video control interface and LIVE signal. Text alone and the design of the speech bubbles transforms the whole diegesis of that second panel, from the floating omniscient "camera" of the other panels to a webcam. Which is crazy because don't forget, there is no diegesis at all. It's all black!

There's so many great touches in this. I love the fact that the tongue in cheek panel containing the "guy's" internal monologue ("I can feel my epic skills draining away with every thrust... along with my masculinity!") is not just a second panel on the upper strip but an inset, separating out this moment of more intimate first person experience from the more remote view of implied fucking. And look at the flowers in the final orgasmic speech bubble! This is a total tangent but I feel like a lot of older attempts at structuralist comics decomposition wanted a firm line between the panel, the image, the characters, the speech bubbles, and so on. But comic elements can constantly interpenetrate, with the apparent domain of text becoming more complex graphical elements. Also, what a cute way to depict orgasming so hard you get turned into a girl. Head full of flowers. :)

It's incredible what you can achieve without breaking Tumblr's draconian terms of service at all.

Robin Tess offers a more straightfoward humorous panel, which lets me catch my breath after Iris's hot and heavy speech bubbles. Yet, this could have been a straightfoward 2 x 3 grid, couldn't it? 6 panels? Instead, this joke about over-engineered jargon names for what could just as easily have been called a "fuckmachine" (left delightfully up to the imagination) gets its core pacing from an irregular panel format. The premise is introduced in a big splashy full-strip panel at the top, the elaboration takes up the middle row, and then the bottom, in two equal panels, displays the two part punchline. I like the subtle way the middle row panels get progressively smaller. It increases the tension as we move toward the release of the punchlines, in a way that could be easily obscured by the panel contents if the page wasn't all blacked out in this way. Like Delyani's work, it makes me want to see notable comics blacked out. It could offer a whole new perspective on the medium's language.

Speaking of which, Nero uses a series of tall regular panels that suddenly POP into one that seems to squirt across the page, the other panels moved to allow for the white negative space to show off the irregular splash of the panel edge. This could be the silhouette of literal fluid, but I also like the idea of a frame that just has this kind of irregular energy. The comic structure itself becoming unruly and fluid to highlight a climax is a staple of many comic genres, but I'd say that I see it deployed most consistently by adult creators, who seem more willing to throw page literalism to the wind in order to achieve heightened expressivity. And once again we've got this escalation to a climactic panel. Typing this up I actually realized I don't have a specific idea of what I think the visual for these panels is or should be. Part of the excitement comes from filling in the blanks, to be sure, but that's true of any comic, which requires us to engage in closure to make sense of the transition from panel to panel. No, it's the drama of the reveal of the vibe plug one character apparently has been hiding, the invitation to intimacy, and finally the release, all achieved through dialogue physically arranged on the page. I don't think this would really make sense at all without the visuals that ARE there--the buzzing sound effect that moves across panel borders and is simultaneous to rather than sequentially arranged between lines of dialogue, and the incredibly suggestive final panel shape. Even without apparent visuals, this is visual storytelling.

Abby Howard wraps things up with the most abstract of the pieces, one that doesn't use frames at all but implies panel contents simply through the convention of word balloon tails. The result is a disorienting dark mass. It's hard to know what exactly is happening here and actually I'm having a hard time imagining what the last visual is "supposed" to be. It sort of is what it is: groping claw marks raking a black void. It's part of the april fool's joke, but it's a creepy one, and it feeds into the final joke of the page: that all this overthinking, all this trying to make sense of black panels, has worn you out, made you vulnerable to the Dark. Well, looking at everything I typed up here, I can't deny the inevitability of this end. Time to get in the maw!

Actually I think this end uncovers the close relationship that comics and hypertext narratives or more experimentally formatted texts have to one another: the space on the page becomes, itself, a signifying element and a way to direct the flow of the story. It's a shame that this is, I think, still considered a bit gimmicky in the realm of professional publishing and criticism. We have all these tools we've barely employed for storytelling, made far more accessible than in the days of having to manually set type!

Well, maybe it'll all have its day in the sun, or I suppose night in its new moon, soon enough. With an increasingly puritanical treatment of sexuality in society and on the internet, maybe we'll ALL have to black the action out of our comics and leave the frames to imply what we socially no longer want to see.

Pitch Black: Comics Code Authority approved!

you can read more reviews in the Hey Look At This Comic tag and support me on Patreon at least until they get my ass for being an adult writing about comics for other adults.

#Hey Look At This Comic #comics #iron circus comics #experimental comics #indie comics #webcomics #comic review

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simspaghetti · 7 months ago

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This has been a long time coming, I've been wanting to make something like this for ages and I finally had some time over the weekend to get it done - I dunno how useful this will be for anyone else, but hopefully at least a few other people might find this template handy!

Here's a full size picture of what the blank template looks like:

I made a couple examples of what it can look like edited over screenshots - as you can see you can just resize the boxes & text as you like to get the ideal final product:

Instructions for use:

This is a .psd file, and as such it needs to be opened in an editing tool that allows that file format - I personally use photopea which is a free online alternative to adobe photoshop - Disclaimer: I haven't tried using it any other editing software like photoshop / gimp but it'll probably work in there too, if you have any problems in those apps lmk and I'll try and fix it!

Each section of the template is separated into folders, open these up and you can edit the text / image elements for each section, you'll need to hide and unhide layers to be able to do this (the little eye icon next to a layer toggles it to be hidden / unhidden)

If you need to resize the boxes, make sure to hold down the shift-key so that you're able to do it more precisley

I have included icons for every career in the sims 3 including all of the expansion packs, however I have not included the skill images you might need as that would be a bit too extensive

For the skill images, I recommend downloading this ultimate icon collection from ModTheSims, as it'll almost definetly have everything you could possibly need to use :)

Please don’t claim as your own or reupload without my permission, I’d love to see you use them in your game if you do choose to tag me - but that's totally optional :) Alter and customize the templates literally however you want, but if you’re gonna reupload a downloadable variation of them I’d appreciate a link back to my blog

Download Here (Simfileshare, .psd file)

The font used for this template is DM Sans, it can be found in all variations here - I only used 'bold' & 'bold italic'

Credits: Heavily inspired by the gorgeous Clean UI created by JustMiha, as well as these promotion templates for TS4 by CupidJuice - and thanks to TheSpiritRealm on MTS for compiling all the icons I used - and total credit goes to EA / Maxis for the icon designs as well I did not make those lol

#download #simblr #psd template #sims template #sims psd #my resources #sims resources #resources

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naumin · 4 months ago

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How to format, print, and bind a zine

This is a consolidated version of previous posts on zine making, with more detail and screenshots. For a version of this post on gdocs, click here.

This is a step-by-step guide on how to use InDesign (or similar programs) to format and print a zine. This can be used for fanzines, sketchbooks, anything. It’s also only one way to do things - there are as many methods as there are zines under the sun. If you’re interested in other ways, searching for zinemaking on youtube would be a start.

If you are printing your zine, your total page count must be a multiple of 4.

Examples of multiples of 4 ✅

4, 16, 112

Not a multiple of 4 ❌

7, 99, 31

This is because our book will be made of folded A4 sheets (that’s regular printer paper). 1 folded A4 makes 2 A5 pages. Each A5 page has a front and back. Therefore each sheet of paper makes 4 pages.

How to format

Open InDesign. Go to Create New > Print. Choose A5 and tick Facing Pages. Enter your page number (this can be changed later). I’ve put 12. Hit Create.

Locate the Rectangle Frame Tool.

Draw a rectangle over your whole page, or just the part where you want your images to go.

Press Ctrl+D and insert the image you want on that page.

That’s it! Repeat on every page and you’ll have a book. Promise.

Further reading

I need a free alternative to InDesign.

InDesign is free for the savvy but I also recommend Scribus which is free and open source and very lightweight. The method is exactly the same but the Rectangle Frame Tool is called Image Frame and the Ctrl+D shortcut will now be Right click > Get Image instead.

I need help with designing my A5 pages.

For my first sketchbook zines, I arranged several images on an A5 canvas in a program like CSP or Procreate and exported them as a JPG into InDesign or Scribus. You can do this if your images aren’t already A5 size or you don’t want to waste time with InDesign’s formatting tools.

I need to get fancier with it, format text, or export my file as small as possible.

Here are the InDesign tutorials I used and liked:

How to Add Page Numbers

How to keep Page Numbers on Top

How to Create a Table of Contents

What is Overset Text and How to Fix It <- essential for formatting text onto multiple pages

How to Reduce InDesign File Sizes

Formatting best practices

Remember that in addition to your front and back cover you also have an inside front and inside back cover. You can leave these blank or create an endpaper with a pattern or include a short message or something. Look inside any books or zines on your shelf for inspiration. Or don’t listen to me and put your first drawing or poem there. Just be aware printer paper is thin so you might be able to see it through the cover.

Avoid putting anything important in the gutter (inside edge) or outside edges of the page. Also be careful of creating double page spreads that go across the centre of the book. Because of how we will print and fold the pages, each half of your spread might not meet up perfectly.

How to print it out

Open your completed book’s PDF file in Acrobat Reader (free download: https://get.adobe.com/reader/)

Print with the following settings: Booklet, and Booklet subset: Both sides.

We can see a preview of our print-out on the window on the right. The pages will look jumbled up, but form the book in order when folded.

Congratulations! Now you’ll have a stack of paper. Once it’s folded it should resemble your (unbound) final book. Use a bulldog clip or similar to keep your pages together neatly.

How to bind (2 methods)

If your book is less than 30 pages, I recommend using a long arm stapler, or a stapler that can open to lay flat. They are cheap.

There are also special book binding staplers or heavy duty staplers, if your book is thicker than 30 pages. Just position your book so the staples are in the middle of the spine (or as close as you can get) and send it. They will be a little wonky… that’s fine.

You can also separate your book into staple-able segments and then join them into 1 big book with tape or thread.

For my 112-page zine, I used thread to bind it.

These instructions are copied from the video ‘How to Print & Bind a Zine’ by LFONinja.

You can watch it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zKYy6G7lIy8

You will need: Ruler, awl, thread, sewing needle

Make 5 holes in the crease of the pages like so. (½ page, then ½ of that, then ½ of that again)

If the paper is thick, be careful when making the holes. It helps to have a piece of blu tack, putty, or soft eraser underneath the spine of the book as you work for the point of the awl to push into.

I don’t recommend separating the papers into smaller stacks as your measurements will likely vary and the holes won’t align.

Use a needle and thread to go through the holes in the following pattern. At the end, tie a knot with the ends of the thread (1 and 9) in the centre of the book. You’re now done.

About page creep

Because we are using folded pages inserted into each other, they push each other out like so:

From: https://www.greenerprinter.com/ support/page-creep/

You can use a heavy duty or industrial paper cutter/trimmer to remove this edge. This is why we kept any important contents away from the edge of the page during formatting, because we don’t want this process to destroy our book’s contents.

About image edges

Because of how the printer works, the images in the book don’t extend all the way to the very edges of the paper and have a thin white border on all sides. It’s possible to crop these edges from your book with a heavy duty paper cutter. Be careful and start small (3mm or less). Depending on how much your pages move during the printing process, the size of the white edge can be different on different pages. Or you can just leave them in.

To read some of the zines featured in this post, check out naumin.itch.io.

#zine making #zinester #fandom zines #book work

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a-queenoffairys · 2 months ago

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Code Lyoko Chronicles 2.0

The Code Lyoko Chronicles are a series of 4 sequel books originally released in Italian in around 2010. Set a short while after the season 4 finale, parts of book 1 recap a story similar to the TV series but with a number of small changes (there's no RTTP for example) while the gang uncover some new secrets in the Hermitage that set them on the path to finding Aelita's mother, Anthea. But XANA survived and is coming back for revenge, and the gang's investigation into the secret history of Franz Hopper, Project Carthage and the Supercomputer puts the men in black on their trail as well, not to mention the shady Green Phoenix organisation who funded Hopper's work.

The books were published in a number of languages, but not in English - so that's where the fans come in. As one of the first translation projects we did for CodeLyoko.fr, finishing in 2014, the original completed English release was pretty rough. 10 years later, armed with more translation sources, better resources and many years of translation experience, I decided to take another crack at it. And after many months of hard work and procrastination, I've produced a version 2.0 that I'm pretty happy with.

Links and notes on the various changes under the cut!

New translations!

My co-translator Kelsey and I didn't have a lot of serious translation experience when we picked up where Rhys Davies left off in his English translation project, and we were definitely prone to making mistakes. And it didn't help that for books 3 and 4, a few things got lost somewhere in the process of the text being translated from Italian > Spanish > French > English. I revised our original translation and this time I referenced multiple sources to try and make sure I got the interpretation right. It won't be perfect, but it's definitely better than our original attempt!

The second half of book 2 was based on the official French version, which I discovered was slightly condensed and abridged to lower the page count. The new English translation expands the text to restore the parts that were omitted. I also changed the title from The Nameless City to The City with No Name - there was never an official English translation, but I did find a marketing document with the titles listed in English, and that was the only one that differed.

Here's a page comparison with a few changes, mostly minor, but one big change to the context of Odd and Ulrich's conversation. With my apologies to Kiwi for the original mistranslation.

New formatting!

I got better at formatting Word docs and realised I should have the text alignment set to justify. The books look a lot neater now!

Accessibility!

I added alt text descriptions to all the images, and the PDFs all have a proper table of contents now so you don't have to scroll to the end of the book to find the navigation.

(Note I don't have a lot of experience with detailed image descriptions and I haven't done much testing with a screen reader - feedback is welcome from people who know more about it!)

New scans!

The centre of each book has several colour pages with images and text to supplement the story, and some of the original scans were quite small or had part of the image disappearing into the spine of the book. And the only way to fix it seemed to be to obtain physical copies of the books (probably in Spanish), pull the pages out and scan them flat. So I did. And I think they look great. (Black lines added to hide spoilers.)

My original intention was to upload these to CodeLyoko.fr, but I haven't been able to do that yet, so for now they'll just be available on Google Drive. This translation wouldn't have been possible if not for the other people on the fanslation team - not just my fellow translators, but also all the people who worked on scanning, formatting and editing. Special thanks also to Rhys Davies for kicking off the English translation. You can read more about the Chronicles and the fanslation project here on the website. (Yes I still need to revise the translation of those pages too. Someday.)

So yeah, it's taken a while, but I'm glad I can finally put out a better version of these books for people to discover. Enjoy!

Version 2.0 PDFs here! (Google Drive) ePub versions coming soon.

#code lyoko #code lyoko chronicles #codelyoko.fr #aqof translates a thing

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awionetka · 2 months ago

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𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰! ♤

what if Love and Deepspace was a college rock band?

𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫: fluff in headcannon format. the band features all five of the boys. brief Rafayel x reader.

𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 / 𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞 / 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥 / 𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 / 𝐂𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐛

Rafayel is…

the frontman!

A dedicated co-founder as well as dutiful lyricist, Rafayel lives and breathes music, creating and modifying it constantly. Despite not having a fixed instrument on stage, Rafayel is actually a multi-instrumentalist and, well, even that term doesn’t quite cover the situation at hand. Since his creative visions are always very much out there, he ended up picking up a couple more instruments that aren’t guitar, piano or drums. so, whenever him and Sylus sit down to write, Rafayel asks "who’s going to play the accordion for this one?" and doesn’t wait for an answer. Name the most odd, unusual or unexpected instrument you can think of and Rafayel can probably play it (and do so well at that). He never goes on stage empty handed, although sometimes the audience does in fact wonder what the actual hell he’s about to start playing.

An actual stage conqueror. Rafayel’s the one who organises their concepts and coordinates outfits. Triple checks each venue before they decide to take the offer. His presence is just short of overwhelming and that’s precisely what made them so popular in such a short period of time. Rafayel’s the face of the band, yes, but what most people fail to notice is just how much work he does to make them prosper. Alongside Sylus, he writes their songs, designs promotional posters and lets everyone crash in his parents’ garage. Rafayel is the one responsible for the band’s image and he works overtime to accomplish what they strive for.

You’ve heard of Rafayel way before you met him in person. In fact, not being aware of his existence in your nearest environment could prove to be less anxiety inducing than interacting with him face to face. You were from two different worlds – a college rock band member and a criminal law student, soon to be prosecutor. And yet, whenever you went out for drinks, there he was, flaunting his slightly overgrown lilac hair and unbuttoning his shirt mid show. To you, there wasn’t much to him besides a pretty face and a sultry voice and those were the kind of problems you didn’t want to deal with.

What solidified you in that belief was a particular accident at a local bowling alley, where the band ended up renting a track just next to yours. Ever the competitor, you always went all out during times like these, therefore it wasn’t a surprise that you ended completely immersed in the game. Preparing for your final shot, you made your way forward, failing to notice that Rafayel was also very much in motion, except that instead of his own track, he ended up shimming his way into yours, slamming into you on accident and making you drop the ball on your foot in the process.

Some time had passed and Rafayel seemed to bump into you more and more frequently. He looked somewhat bashful at first, hiding behind his bandmate (confidant) Xavier in an almost childish manner. However, after a couple of drinks his bravado was coming back full force like clockwork and making itself very prominent by how he smothered you with attention. Affectionate nicknames kept slipping past his lips as easily as the lyrics to their songs and you just stood there mortified, already calculating how this would affect your social life. Afterwards you confronted him, expressing your lack of interest in his ingenuine advances and he held your hands in his as he told you his intentions were anything but. You didn’t believe him.

The next day, however, you found out that Rafayel did in fact keep his promise, when you got woken up in the middle of the night by his heartwrenching singing just outside your college dorm window. Strongly tempted to throw a law textbook right on top of his head, you frowned when someone else beat you to it, cursing him out to the heavens. He managed to send you a playful wink as he ran away across the fields back to his own dorm, completely unbothered by his freshly made enemies.

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥’𝐬 (𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞) 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐩𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬...

♤ Ritmüller RS160 Grand Piano

Situated in the dining room of his family home, right beside a huge floor to ceiling window, Rafayel's Ritmüller piano was in fact a music school graduation gift. He's the only band member with a degree in this field, however he rarely mentions it (it took Zayne four months to figure out Rafayel's background). Playing piano comes naturally to him, as if it was his second nature.

♤ Tama Starclassic Walnut/Birch 4-Piece, Satin Purple Atmosphere Fade

He keeps this one in his garage and lets Caleb use it whenever practice rolls around so he won’t have to drag his own set along. Rafayel's a surprisingly skilled drummer and even played once during a gig (he overheard you mentioning drummers were hot, so he immediately threw Caleb in front and sat behind those damned drums himself (you didn’t notice the change)).

♤ handmade acoustic guitar (something of this sort)

The newest addition to Rafayel's guitar collection, commissioned by him as his own birthday gift. He rarely uses it, keeping it on a special wall display in his bedroom. The first time you're invited over to make pizza and play board games with his family, he grabs it without a single word and starts strumming away, successfully enchanting you (which wasn't even Rafayel's intention, not entirely; he simply felt so much joy in that moment he had to channel it somehow).

♤ Lindo Koya Electric Guitar – Japanese Graphic Art Finish

It is rather telling that Rafayel's most "normal" looking guitar has its entire body painted with a Japanese inspired scenery. After some time it became so common for him to bring it on stage, he could've been as well fused to it. It compliments his stage presence in a way not much else could.

(The neck is also purple underneath! Great touch)

♤ Ali Kat Cadillac 59 2010s Pink

If anyone were to own a guitar of this sort, it'd be Rafayel for sure. He adores the unique, the one of a kind, as passionately as he does music itself. Therefore, he will buy anything that makes the rest of the band (especially Sylus) roll their eyes at the sheer excess. In your humble opinion, this Ali Kat is a near perfect embodiment of Rafayel himself – a little demanding to work with, eye-catching and undeniably gorgeous (bonus: it is also blush pink which is coincidentally the exact shade of Rafayel's face whenever you reply to his constant flirtations).

𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐥'𝐬 𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐢𝐱

♤ evil friends; portugal. the man

♤ girls & boys; blur

♤ hand me my shovel, I’m going in!; will wood and the tapeworms

♤ the crystal ballroom; u2

♤ dinner and diatribes; hozier

#go ahead and imagine rafayel singing these on stage. u are so welcome #love and deepspace #lads #lnds #lads rafayel #lnds rafayel #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #lads x reader #rafayel x reader #archive #of course this one turned out the longest. I have nothing to say on this matter.#♆ archive

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sashi-ya · 1 year ago

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𝑨𝑩𝑶𝑽𝑬 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺 ⛈ [chapter 1: introduction] 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐨𝐭! 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐋𝐚𝐰 𝐱 𝐅! 𝐂𝐄𝐎! 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫.

⇝ Interactive fic format welcome to the first chapter! as mentioned previously this will be an interactive fic! how does it work? by the end of every chapter you will find a poll section where you will be able to vote for what's coming in the next chapter! what will reader do? what will be the consequences? have fun! ⇝ tw: the story is set to be an awakening for reader. you will find topics as loneliness, hints of depression and suicidal tendencies. be specially careful if this topics are triggering for you. there is no smut in this chapter, but it will be in the following ones. ⇝ don't forget to vote at the end of every chapter! ⇝ masterlist

Nobody, never, told you no. And nobody, ever, will. Miss Independent. Miss Successful. The Boss.

“I don’t care about a stupid storm, get me a damn ticket NOW” you order. The sound of your voice echoes against the many glass windows of your rooftop office. You don’t mind, nor care for your safety… all you have in your life is your job. Biggest enterprise that leads many markets and won’t ever stop growing. At least not on your watch.

Your hills click harder against the cold marble of the floor, a tuft of hair gets curled around your finger, the insides of your mouth are heavily bitten. Nobody, however, knows you can get anxious. And nobody should, either.

“The… the airport is closed, Miss” your assistant, Usopp, informs.

Your eyes are glued to the blurred image of the city. You can see almost all of it from your position. And it’s that, exactly, what money and power makes you feel; like you are above them all.

“Then get the jet” you venously spit, as if your assistant was stupid enough not to think of that already. “I don’t give a fuck if it’s closed, we are taking off from the vineyard runway”

You notice your secretary nervously trying to find any type of words that could stop you from doing such stupidity, but he finally gives up and simply says “yes, boss...”

He walks away, already with his phone in his hands. He needs to call the private pilot on a Thursday night, with a cyclone outside, just because you couldn’t wait.

The tuft you’ve been playing with around your finger is now behind your ear. You tucked it. As always, your hand did it. Your long red nails did. Loneliness never made you less successful; in fact, quite the opposite.

Through the glass wall, covered in uncountable raindrops, your blurred vision finally fixes into the many buildings around. All of them, so late in the evening, begin to show candid lights throughout them. Families that join and play together. Lonely people hugging their pets. Couples dancing and kissing, or even looking through their windows. None of them, but you, show a single silhouette tonight.

“Boss, I’m- I…” your assistant breaks your bubble of hate and self-awareness. “The pilot says he is not flying tonight. It’s too dangerous” he excuses himself. In fact, his head bowed down exposes how mortified he is by not being able to accomplish your orders.

You turn around and massage your temple. There is a very important meeting you need to attend tomorrow morning. You can’t wait.

“Put Doffy on the line and leave me alone” you straight and coldly say.

He nods, leaving immediately, closing the heavy doors behind him. Not even five seconds after, the sound of your phone announces Mr. Donquixote is waiting on the line.

“My sweet (Name), to what do I owe the pleasure of your call? Are you feeling lonely tonight? You can come home whenever you can” the excentric billionaire, who you sometimes fuck with, sings through the phone.

“I need your private pilot. Now. Flying my jet from the vineyards” you say, not much information is given. He probably understands.

He laughs. Extremely loudly.

“No pilot will take you anywhere tonight but let me see if my nephew wants to risk his life. The kid wants to die often, and apparently you too” he keeps laughing while telling you such terrible statement.

“I need a pilot, not a kid Doflamingo” “He is, indeed, a pilot. Give me twenty minutes, I’ll send it to your vineyard. But you owe me one… you know exactly those lips are my weakness”

Done. Problem fixed. You always know who to call when you need something; you know nobody really cares about your wellbeing but only the things they could get in return if you owe them something.

A carry on is always packed with essential stuff on your office; many are the times you spend travelling compared to those you spend at your own house. You grab it along with your coat and your keys. You don’t wait for your chauffer; you don’t want to hear blabbering about safety.

“It’s just rain. What’s gonna happen? Am I getting my stilettos wet? So what?”

There isn’t much traffic, the many lights are indeed going the opposite way to yours. Everybody seems to be returning home, while you are driving straight to the outside of the city. Your vineyards aren’t that far but are certainly on a much rural zone.

Thunder roar in the open sky, the darkest night seems to be only illuminated by the power of those flashing lights inside growing grey towers of fluff.

“Bet is gonna be a very fun flight ~” you hum, as you imagine the little powerful plane crossing the menacing clouds ahead.

It takes you little time to arrive to your destination, the engine of your car is way more powerful than most of the automobiles out there.

Right by the door of your vineyards, a man that seems to be on the bones, salutes you.

“Yohohoho! What are you doing here, Boss? Welcome! Do I prepare a glass of Merlot or maybe a Pinot Noir for you tonight? ” he asks, taking his hat off, revealing an amazing afro underneath.

“Brook, take this to the jet. The pilot will be here at any minute, he is a new one so let him pass the door” you instruct your housekeeper, throwing your carry on at him.

His eyes, deep into the sockets of his skull, open wide. Of course, nobody expects you to fly with such storm outside… but that’s just you, and exactly how you are.

“Sure, Boss. I’ll sort everything out for you right away”

You take a swift look at the main house of your vineyards. Everything is perfectly clean and well kept. You are satisfied; your personnel works perfectly well. Except your private pilot, that one is already fired.

You sit down, flopping maybe onto a fancy couch. Nobody is watching, you are allowed to rest for at least just a moment. However, the calm lasts no longer than a couple of seconds.

“Miss (Name), the pilot is here” Brook comments, making your shut eyes to open slowly and -mostly- annoyed. You didn’t expect to see a man standing right next to your employee, but there he is.

“Who are you? why aren’t you on the plane already?” you ask, not even standing up but crossing your legs as you stiff your back muscles. Your thighs, flash a little bit of them underneath the cut of your pencil tight skirt. Your red nails carve on the sides of the armchairs.

The man, of steel eyes and dark hair smirks just a little with defiance and superior demeanour. Something you most likely don’t fancy but makes your insides… anxiously alive.

Wearing nothing but a private pilot uniform, he stands right in front of you. It shows that he is clearly not used to serve, but to be served. And you soon remember this man, who’s been called a “kid”, is in fact Donquixote Doflamingo’s nephew.

“You must be Doffy’s nephew; you are just like him; you don’t bow before anyone. Don’t you?” you ask, this time standing up. Not even your high heels are enough to surpass his height.

He hums. “Trafalgar Law, and I’m not like him” he spits. Apparently he is not only spoiled, but also hates his own family. “I’m not here to work for you, I am here because I’ve been told you needed a favour. You should know how to fly planes by now” he states.

You burn. How dare him tell you are not independent enough.

“Indeed, I do. Apparently you aren’t aware of the fact that I can’t fly without another pilot because of stupid laws and regulations. This isn’t a helicopter; this is a jet” you inform him, walking right pass him and asserting dominance with your hand on his shoulder.

You look him in the eye with a side look. Law, does the same. You are close, so close you can hear his breathing. And your image, imponent and beautiful, reflects on the golden hoops that hang from his right ear.

Both, intensely fight in silence. For what, however, none of you exactly know. And the energy between you two, could probably alter the weather, and the world itself…

“Come on, I have no time to waste. I need to be in London by tomorrow morning” you break the silence. Walking towards a big hall that takes you to the hangar, you turn around just for a couple of seconds to give a last lethal look at your new young companion.

Just a hint of flustered cheeks show in his face, but it’s enough for you to feel like you have won the battle of dominance. Or that’s what you thought.

The heavy steps behind you, makes you internally smile. You are used to be followed by almost mute employees, walking on eggshells not to piss you off. But Law is different; he is not doing this for the money, nor status. He is as suicidal as you, flying in this weather should be prohibited… in fact, it is. But the rich never ask for permission. You are know you are above everything else. And that includes the clouds, too.

“Give me a second, let me sort the charts” Law says, taking a look at the papers in his hands before climbing into the jet.

You nod, as you do the same with your laptop. Something inside you tells you to stop; that those conditions will bring more than mere turbulence. Yet, your cold heart, tells you something louder than your reason; “who cares if something happens, after all? Just do it”

Half an hour after, and a couple of swift looks at each other, Law and you are already set to departure.

For the first time since he arrived you notice the tattoos on his hands; knuckles inked with the word “D.E.A.T.H” rip a scoff from you. It is quite funny to you, that those hands could most likely either fly you to death if you aren’t lucky enough, or to London if you are.

“We don’t need to fly now, we can wait until the conditions seem better” Law murmurs, as those inked fingers turn on every button of the plane. “Your plans aren’t more important than any life”

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOh. So, he is not that willing to die as Doffy said…

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snek-panini · 8 months ago

Text

This is the final book from the batch I started in April, and look how cute it is! This is London Calling by forthegreatergood, a Good Omens fic set around the end of the cold war. It's definitely a TV!verse fic, not a book fic, but it does a quite good job capturing the feel of the time when the book first came out. It's got pining, and spies, and politics, and actual real grown-up conversations about feelings, and an optimistic ending even if it isn't a happily-ever-after.

The cover up there is a printed lokta paper that I got from...probably Hollander's but it's been a while. It was a total impulse buy and for a long time I kept trying to find stories that would fit it but I kept failing until I settled on this one. The print is metallic, but it phases between gold and silver and copper, so I chose a subdues rose gold metallic htv on the spine, over green book cloth for reinforcement.

More photos under the cut!

I've only just noticed that the photo of the endpaper is blurry, but since it's a simple unadorned green I'm not too fussed about it. I love fancy endpapers but was afraid that whatever I chose would fight with the cover, and I really wanted the cover to be the star here. Machine-made black and white endbands, and a plain black ribbon for the bookmark. In this top view photo you can see one of the most annoying things I've dealt with in all the 50-ish books I've made. One of the center pages in this book wouldn't print correctly no matter what I did. I kept getting one sheet with a single printed half-side (one book page) and one sheet with one fully printed and one half printed side (three book pages), instead of the thing I was supposed to get, which is two fully printed sides (for book pages). I tried every formatting trick I could find and got the same result every time, and I still don't know why. Eventually I just cut off the single page and pasted it in place on the blank part of the three-page sheet, but it didn't turn out too well and the paper is wiggly. I cannot fix this. It is unfixable. So I've just rolled with it and accepted that things that are handmade are going to have quirks. This one's just got a more obvious quirk than most.

Title page and first page of the fic. I wanted to keep it fairly simple and un-ornamented because I don't think opulence suits this fic. So it's not exactly austere, but it shouldn't be ornate either. Some fics are ornate, some just aren't. The feather thing on the title page was originally a scene break divider for another fic I bound, and it was put together with free vectors from I think vecteezy. Like many Good Omens fics, there's a wing grooming scene in this one, so it felt appropriate. The graphic didn't get to shine too well last time I used it because scene break images have to be pretty small, and I think the larger size I was able to use here suits it better.

Overall, in spite of its challenges, I think this book came together really well and I'm proud of it. It's sweet and interesting and I think it suits the fic, and I couldn't really ask for better than that.

#good omens #bookbinding #fanbinding #snek makes books #as always i feel like i'm forgetting something in the tags #also i forgot to say it's legal quarto size #my new fave size to make #they feel so nice to hold

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bluejayblueskies · 1 year ago

Text

ten thousand flowers in spring | bluejayblueskies

[ID: Three photos of a hand-bound book from different angles that show the front, side, and back respectively. The book has dark green bookcloth, a decorative red and gold ribbon along the front cover and a black ribbon along the back cover, and a gold painted cherry blossom design on the front and back covers. The title and author name are also in gold on the front cover and spine and read, "Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring" and "bluejayblueskies." /End ID]

Last November, I got a Silhouette cutting machine for Black Friday. This weekend, I finally got the chance to use it for a bookbinding project! I bound my fic ten thousand flowers in spring as part of one of my Fandom Trumps Hate typesetting gifts, and I had a lot of fun going all-out with the flower iconography.

[ID: Two photos of the interior of the book. The first is the title page spread of the book, showing a pastel-colored painting of a cherry blossom-scattered hill with sheep and a shepherd that spans both pages. On the right page, there is the title "Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring" and the author name "bluejayblueskies" in a sans serif font. The second is the colophon (left) and table of contents (right) of the book. The colophon has details about the binder, the original fic, and the fonts and image sources used in the book. The table of contents has each chapter title and corresponding page number listed in a grid format with flower icons above each chapter title. /End ID]

Each chapter is titled after a flower that has a specific meaning that ties into the chapter content. I decided to style this bind after old botany books. Along with the cover, which is inspired by the covers of old botany books, each chapter header has an image of the titular flower pulled from public domain botany book scans, along with the flower's name and meaning below it.

[ID: The inside of the book, showing a page of text on the left and the chapter header on the right. The chapter header has an old-style image of blue salvia on it, with the name "blue salvia" and the meaning "friendship, family, thoughtful gestures, thinking of you" beneath it. /End ID]

Each chapter also begins with a faux-excerpt from the book Jon is writing throughout the fic:

[ID: The inside of the book, showing the introductory faux book excerpt on the left and the beginning chapter text on the right. The faux book text has an image of a flower beneath it; the beginning chapter text has a drop cap with a floral design at the beginning of it. /End ID]

Some more notes and pictures on process are below the cut!

The binding style of this fic is sewn boards binding, which I like for thinner books as the spine is much less fiddly to work with. It's also a really nice binding style in general because it eliminates my least-favorite part of the binding process: casing in. When casing in a regular case-bound book, you construct the entire case separately from the text block and then attach the case to the text block via the endpapers. Inevitably, I always end up just a little bit crooked, and because my brain currently refuses to let me try using paste instead of PVA, it's very hard to fix once the endpapers are pasted down.

With sewn boards binding, the boards are attached to the text block via an extra signature of folded cardstock on the ends of the text block. The case is then constructed directly onto the text block, and glueing the endpapers down is very, very easy and near-impossible to mess up.

The ends of the boards do end up exposed with this binding style. The first time I did it, I covered them with paper. This time, I painted them gold to match the cover:

[ID: A side view of the book, showing off the exposed boards near the spine which are painted gold. The front cover of the book can also be seen at an angle. /End ID]

I plan to experiment more in the future with potentially adding endbands to this binding style, as that's one thing I wish this book had that it does not.

For the cover design, I first cut out the stencils using my Silhouette:

[ID: A cutting mat with white vinyl stuck to it that has been cut and weeded to expose the backlit cherry blossom design. The title "Ten Thousand Flowers in Spring" and author name "bluejayblueskies" can be seen in the designs for the front cover and spine. /End ID]

I'd heard a lot of things about weeding, positive and negative, but I actually enjoyed doing the weeding on this 😂 it was like doing a puzzle in a way. I think I would like it less if I had to keep all of the tiny little pieces and make sure they looked nice, but as it was, all I had to do was remove them and it didn't matter if they got bent in the process.

The fabric paint I have dries very quickly, so I got very little bleed on my stencil and was able to remove it almost right away:

[ID: The back cover of the book with the vinyl stencil stuck to it, painted over somewhat messily with gold fabric paint. /End ID]

Overall, I was very happy with the stenciling process and will probably continue to do stencils as opposed to heat transfer vinyl unless I want to do some bigger, blockier designs in the future.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #ficbinding #bookbinding #jay's bound books #fanbinding

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