#i did detail the skin though because i like shading skin

[probably-a-plant-thing]

Alt Red n Black

@damien-mlm

[infictionalwonderland]

hot physiotherapist | j.potter

SUMMARY, james has a rugby accident and has to take physiotherapy - he’s pretty down about, but all that depressions forgotten as soon as he sees you, his physiotherapist. why had he not done this sooner?

James Potter was miserable.

A very odd occurrence, although it did happen (evidently). He was pouting the whole way as Remus drove them to the physiotherapists, Sirius was giggling to himself in the backseat the whole time—Remus, ever the angel he was, tried to cheer James up by giving him complete control over the music in the car and even greeting him with his coffee order and a chocolate croissant.

James was still miserable.

“Have fun, darling boy!” Sirius chirped out the window as James got out of the car, “try not to break any bones on your way in. God forbid you need physiotherapy.”

He burst out into borderline manic cackles and fell down completely into the row of backseats, never one to wear his seatbelt as he hated being constricted—James glared with upmost venom and hatred at the backseat windows, Tarzan looking cunt.

“I hope everything goes well.” Remus’ voiced gently, shooting his boyfriend a blank stare even as he tried to stop his own amusement. “D’ya want me to fetch you any food or anything for you when you come out?”

“No. Thanks.”

Remus winced.

James was still miserable.

He trotted his way indoors, cursing inside his head at the shooting pains all up his back and his hips, with the largest pout there ever was he made his way over to the reception and told them who he was—why he was here, before behind asked to take a seat in one of the rooms where he would be joined shortly by the physiotherapist.

He sat, frowning at the large room with equipment and soft turquoise coloured walls for a short about of time and then the door opened.

And then his world stopped.

In you stepped. . your hair was tugged into a low ponytail, front strands out of the pony to frame your face. He had died, he was certain. Your skin looked so soft, the beaming white lights giving you the most heavenly glow, he was sure you were an actual angel. Your eyes gleamed beautifully, and he was lost in the exact shade of them—trying to pinpoint every little detail and speck of colour. Your lips were pulled into such a fucking lovely smile, he could’ve melted (he did melt). Even from where you stood in the door, he was greeted in the pleasant aroma of your perfume and he felt like he was floating.

Your mouth was open—oh my god he was missing an opportunity to hear your voice—wait, what had you been saying. Balls.

“Um—h—muhuh?”

Double balls.

Your beautiful smile didn’t even waver in the slightest, though, amusement weaved it’s way into your eyes and created a mesmerising pattern into your irises that he forever engraved into his memory.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mr Potter! My names Y/N and I’ll be your physiotherapist for the foreseeable future.” You grinned, walking closer to him, “Hopefully.”

Wha—was that flirting? No! You had said it in a normal tone, like Hi I hope I stay your physiotherapist because it is literally my job, James and I enjoy it. But—yeah, no. It was like that. You were so close to him now—so so much more beautiful up close, he didn’t think that was even humanly attainable.

“Yeah—i—I hope so too, ma’am.”

MA’AM?!

Somebody sedate me, he thought.

You didn’t seem thrown off or even slightly offended, or disgusted by him. Which was, good, really, really good.

Instead, you let out this little bubbly burst of laughter and fucking hell, James knew from that point he was gone and could never return. His eyes were probably comically wide and maybe in literal heart shapes but he could truly care less. He look at you in awe—your nose scrunched when you laughed, your eyes squinted and to James you just became even more perfect.

“Please, call me Y/N—Ma’am sounds overly American anyway—“

“Would you prefer Miss?”

I’m never leaving the house again.

You blinked.

He almost stumbled to his knees in apology though that would obviously only give you the impression he was more of a creep than you already thought he was—but—hold on. He watched, mouth falling open just slightly, as your cheeks flushed a very very pretty pink and your mouth formed into the cutest smile he’d ever seen in his entire life.

He was definitely leaving the house again, and it was going to be to come here everyday.

“Just Y/N is fine, thank you for being so considerate though.” You laughed teasingly.

“Can I be upgraded to just James?”

“Oh? You don’t want to he called miss? Or Ma’am?” You grinned at him, white teeth glistening from under your full lips, cheeks turning a faint rosy shade under the strength of your grin and a strand of hair swooping in front of your eye. He was in love. “Or, Sir maybe?”

Jesus Christ of Nazareth.

James is one hundred percent that he would’ve fallen over fast first had he been standing and he’s never been more thankful he’s not. He can feel his cheeks turn red—his face heating up to an embarrassingly tomato red state at an embarrassingly quick rate.

“Nah—Ju—Just James, please.” He huffed out, moving the material of his shirt dramatically off his chest and fanning himself. “Is—um, is it hot in here or is just you? Me! Is it just me?!”

You smile at him, adorably crinkle eyed and slightly pink cheeked, looking every bit the goddess and the angel James already knew with certainty that you were.

James Potter was, as it turns out, no longer miserable.

In fact, he can’t wait for his next appointment.

[thishazbinamistake]

Howdy!

I am here to talk about Viv's horrible character designs.

From an animator perspective, they suck.

Here's why

1. The characters have way too much detail

For animation, more lines equal more work. You're going to be drawing them over and over, and it just creates more stress and work for the animators.

For example, I took one of the most egregious designs in HB (Beelzebub) and simplified it to be animation friendly.

(Can't send it here but I'll probably make a post about it or something.)

2. There's too much of 1 color

WHY IS THERE SO MUCH RED??

Especially since they're in a primarily red background, they don't stand out AT ALL.

Like how am I supposed to see them if they blend in to the background??

3. I have no idea what half of them are supposed to be

Charlie is based off a doll?

Alastor is based off of a deer?

Katie Killjoy is based off of a praying mantis?

Angel Dust is based off of a spider?

Beelzebub is supposed to be well... Beelzebub?

When designing characters, they need to be clear on what they're supposed to be! And no, explaining it on Twitter does not count.

4. The animation reference sheets are garbage

No wonder there's so much animation errors. There's no facial expression sheets, lip sync guide, nothing. It's just a 4 angle turnaround sheet where the character is in complex poses all the time.

If you Google Lackadaisy's animation reference sheets and then look at HB's, it's like night and day.

I'm more than willing to send some examples (along with the edit I did) if you want

So yeah, what are your thoughts?

These are all great points! I think you summed up the main problems very well, but I'll elaborate on each of them. I'm no expert at character design or animation by any means, but I'll do my best to explain my points!

First of all, like you said, the character designs are way too complicated. Anyone who knows even the slightest amount about animation knows you want to simplify and streamline your designs as much as possible to make it easier on the animators. Vivzie is way too obsessed with her Deviantart OC lookin'-ass character designs to actually do this, even though it would seriously help to make the animation process way faster and easier. Beelzebub is seriously the best (or worst?) example of this.

I feel so bad for the poor souls who had to animate this. There are just way too many moving parts here, from her multiple arms, her wings, her markings, to her freaking lava lamp hair and tail?? It's just awful. And so many of Viv's designs suffer this problem, I could go on and on.

Like, I think it actually is a nice looking design, as a still image. Maybe not for the demon Beelzebub, but as a general furry OC, I think she's cute. But that's beside the point. I would love to see your redesign of her!

Next, the RED. So, most of the characters we see in Helluva Boss are red-skinned imps, which has been a common depiction of demons for centuries. One big problem I have is that there's little contrast in these designs. Let's look at our three main imps.

Aside from some white and yellow highlights, they're all mostly red and black. Their color palettes aren't distinct in the slightest! And, I mean, come on. Red accessories against what's almost the exact same shade of red skin? Really? It just doesn't look good. A little contrast here and there goes a long way, like... maybe make Moxxie's bowtie blue? Or Blitz's pendant green? I don't know, anything to help each character stand out, and help give them more visual intrigue.

It doesn't help that most of the backgrounds are primarily shades of red, too. Here's a few screenshots I found that really show this problem.

Look at all that fucking red. Like you said, there's such little color variation that the characters blend into the background. Now, to be fair, I did specifically choose these screenshots because I think they really highlight the problem, but this really is what so much of the show looks like. Granted, we do have a bit more variety in the different rings of Hell, each with their own main color, but this is still too much red, considering how much the color comprises the main characters' designs.

Next, like you said, Vivzie is really bad at making characters actually look like the things they're supposed to look like. Let's take Alastor as an example!

Oh boy! More red and black. So, Alastor here is supposed to be a deer. What's the first physical characteristic that comes to mind when you think of a deer?

Yeah, those big, impressive antlers! So... where are his? Oh, they're those tiny little forks on his head that are almost entirely obscured by his stupid emo hair. Like, come on! Giving him bigger antlers would have made him look so much cooler and more intimidating, and it would have been a great focal point for his design! It's such a missed opportunity. (I know he has bigger antlers in his scarier "demon" form, but you still could have made these a little more impressive.) And don't even get me started on those ears... they look more like fox ears or something. Like you said, a good design shouldn't need to be explained through supplementary material. We should be able to tell what a character is supposed to be just from looking at them!

Another great example is Angel Dust, who, despite being a spider, lacks so many distinct features we associate with spiders! He only has six legs instead of eight, he doesn't have pedipalps or chelicerae, and he also lacks that big old spider booty, which I think is such a missed opportunity, considering he is supposed to be in the sex industry. He isn't even remotely shaped like a spider, he looks more like a fuzzy stick bug or something.

Part of me feels like Viv is too afraid to make her characters look unique, so she just goes with the same, skinny humanoid design for just about everything. It's such a shame, because I really do think she is a talented artist who can make some really interesting designs. But then again, she also gave us Beelzebub, so... maybe not.

As for the reference sheets, maybe I wasn't looking hard enough but I couldn't find any official ones for the main characters, so if you could send those my way I would appreciate it! Though it honestly wouldn't surprise me if they were bad. I did look up Lackadaisy's and found them pretty easily and...

This is so freaking comprehensive and detailed, it's incredible! Look at all those poses and facial expressions!

Comparing Vivzie's works to Tracy's feels kind of unfair, since Tracy has been working on Lackadaisy for 17 years, and it really shows. This is leaps and bounds above Helluva Boss and Hazbin Hotel in quality. Rocky's design is tight; it's detailed, but not overly complicated. There isn't an obnoxious overuse of highly saturated colors, and there's such nice contrast between his fur, his eyes, suit, and tie, making his design very nice to look at. You can also tell so much about his personality and the world he lives in just from his appearance. It's such a good design, and Rocky is just one example from Lackadaisy! All of Tracy's designs are memorable and stand out from one another, unlike so many of Vivzie's characters, whose designs honestly feel interchangable.

So much thought and care has gone into Lackadaisy, and I seriously cannot wait for the full series, as well as all the other amazing indie animated series that have been coming out recently. It's sad that Helluva Boss is seen as the pinnacle of indie animation, when there are so many other series out there that are just.. better! Lackadaisy, obviously, but we've also got Digital Circus, Murder Drones, Monkey Wrench, and so many others that deserve way more appreciation than what Helluva Boss receives. And that's just from an art direction standpoint, we aren't even talking about writing. That's a whole other can of worms.

All of that being said, it's obvious that a ton of love and hard work went into Helluva Boss, and I hold absolutely nothing against the animators and artists at Spindlehorse. These poor design choices are a hallmark of Vivzie's art style, and they're simply working with what they've got. There is such wasted potential here because it feels like Vivzie is too afraid to step outside her comfort zone and design something that isn't a brightly colored, sharp-toothed twink, or skinny anthro wolf girl.

Anyways, that about wraps up my thoughts. Thanks for the ask, this was fun to delve into! And again, I'd be very interested in seeing you post your redesigns! 👀

[dearbraus]

Flowers Never Bend with Rainfall⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

— Wriothesley

⊹ Details. 18+ minors dni, fem! reader, mentions of reader wearing a corset, gown and earrings, arranged marriage, original characters; reader has an unnamed family and older sister, nobility and high society's conventions, allusions to gendered familial roles, sfw. ⊹ Run time. 1.3k ⊹ Note. I have had such brainworms for this man since seeing him for the first time. I had to write something but didn't want to get too ahead of myself since we know nothing of him yet sooo I decided to start a new series of drabbles that will follow this plotline, reader, and Wriothesley. You can find it under the tag # flowers never bend and it will eventually be posted to my ao3 as a cohesive story <3

Your sister beams as she gives your appearance another once over. It's the fifth time in the past ten minutes that she’s turned to you with scrutiny in her eyes, adjusting a strand of your hair or smoothing out the crisp neckline of your dress– you must be perfection. Today you’re meeting him, the man your parents sold you to when you were no more than six years old. He had been a boy then too and just as much of an unwilling participant in the whole affair as you had. Perhaps it was cruel to blame him for your misfortunes. At least the two of you had been given the courtesy of a meeting, a single chance to rectify the will of your parents before they made plans to force the two of you down the aisle.

The day after her eighteenth birthday, your older sister had been married. A gaggle of small children soon followed. They made quite the army of troublemakers but she continued to grow round with one every few years because they were just so cute when they were little. She fancied herself a matchmaker and believed that she knew everything there was to know when it came to matters of the heart. But, what did marriage have to do with the heart when it was nothing more than a political arrangement? Your father had made thousands of those in his lifetime and he’d do thousands more by the time by the time his earthly body was returned to the waves.

There was nothing special or romantic about standing in the middle of the lobby at the Hotel Debord being primped and preened over like a porcelain doll. The seafoam-coloured walls make the contents of your stomach curdle uncomfortably though your favourite gown as a child had once been spun off the very same shade. Today you wore pink taffeta topped off with a lace-trimmed neckline and a little white bow placed carefully at your décolletage. It as though your childhood bedroom threw up on your seamstress and out came this dress.

“Did you know that your fiancé is a Duke?” your sister whispers as she ushers you over to one of the plush chairs, “That mean’s he comes from a very wealthy family, mhm, and is a very well respected man.”

The whale-boned corset beneath your dress keeps your spine straight as you sit and still your sister makes a point of pressing your shoulders back before taking her own seat, “Does he have a name?” You ask, placing one delicately gloved hand over the other.

A myriad of people file in and out of the hobby with what appears to be a purpose. You can’t but watch with curious eyes and the childish hope of discerning him from the crowd before he’s able to spot you. Like a flower, you’d wilt beneath his gaze and learn nothing more than the facade people like you and he were taught to wear like a second skin. Instead, you’re met with swishing skirts that ooze refinement and galloping pups in gaudy costumes. There is little to be gained from people watching carbon copies that chased the latest trends as if that would appease their archon.

“Wriothesley,” Your sister states as if the answer should be obvious to you.

The name hardly strikes a chord of recognition within you, you may have heard it in passing years ago but no new memories surface as you search for an inkling of familiarity. It was futile, your days within the court were limited as you much preferred the solace of your family's countryside estate. The quiet was nice. With no nightmare-inducing machinations to tower over you. The servants were friendly too and even with the tendrils of gossip that filled their quarters, they never seemed to judge you too harshly for having the privilege to shirk societal expectations.

“Does he have a surname?” Focusing your eyes on the ornate glass chandeliers that swing with each gentle breeze pushed in through the ever-revolving doors, you quell your growing need for some tangible information into a dismissive interest, “Or shall I just be known as the lady duke?”

Your sister's gaze is sharp as is how quickly she turns her head to face you, “Come now, you know it is inappropriate to make such comments,” She smiles at a passing stranger, and they smile back, “He is a good man, that much I know.”

Despite the sunny disposition that is quick to replace her annoyed expression, you can feel your sister’s ire simmering within her gaze. Light splinters from the artfully crafted crystalline chunks and dances along the slick tiled ground. The sight of it makes you dizzy but you enjoy the head rush as you settle your focus onto the reflective floor. A gloved and idle hand comes up to twirl the dangly earrings that weigh heavy on your lobes, smoothing your thumb against the drop pearl.

“How can you be certain that he is a good man if you do not even know his family’s name?”

It’s difficult to stifle the giggle that rises to your lips when she glares at you. You found in that moment that it was good she had not been blessed with a cryo vision because it would pale in comparison to the chill that settled over the table.

“If you were so curious perhaps you should have asked father,” she gritted out, “I am just here to ensure that you do not embarrass yourself in front of Wriothesley.”

“How kind of you dear sister,” you grin the way she hates, showing her all of your teeth, “Surely I could not know how to talk to a man at my advanced age of twenty-two without your steadfast guidance.”

“It is a wonder why Mother and father chose you for the duke and not I,” your sister muttered beneath her breath, hoping you did not hear her.

Green was an ugly shade on your sister but you supposed it couldn’t be helped. It was human nature and adults were far more like children than they liked to believe, coveting toys that didn’t belong to them.

Though, her ego would balloon to be ten times the size of her body should you ever dare to admit that you wished your parents had chosen her for their political gain and not you. You weren’t well suited for the things you supposed this Wriothesley would expect of you. Most days you spent more time with your nose buried in long-forgotten tomes than you did in etiquette lessons. Those were important, your mother once said, a man of such status had much social responsibility and as his wife, so would you. 

“What time did Father say we may expect his grace to grace us with his presence?”

If the two of you were at home, she might have snarled at you, “I do not find you amusing!”

A well-dressed man carrying a shiny silver platter approached the table. If he heard your bickering, he chose not to comment on it, “Your tea has arrived, ladies.”

“Sir, I fear you are mistaken” you stated, your voice growing timid as he began to unload the contents of the tray into your table, “We did not order any tea.”

“No, but he did.”

The “he” in question was an imposing man who hovered behind the waiter. Neither of you had noticed but your sister began to smile demure at him the moment she took notice of his presence. The first thing you noticed was the glinting silver handcuffs that hung off his belt like a warning and then the metal-clad fingerless gloves. The chains and chunks of alloy made the deep red tie he wore look silly and out of place but his keen, pale eyes made you shrink in your seat as they slid over your visage.

“May I present to you his grace, the Duke Wriothesley.”

Oh.

So this was the man your family intended for you to marry.

© all content belongs to dearbraus. do not modify, repost, or redistribute.  

[vulpixisananimal]

(you leave for one loop. One day. And it becomes a blinding disaster. Oh yes, Stardust gets a loop where they can relax and don't need to worry about anything and look what happens.)

(Because of you.)

(I did not do anything.)

(Oh sure! Was I mistaken? Was I mistaken thinking that the one who's always causing trouble, always making things harder, was the one who messed everything up!?!)

(I had to do what I had to do. It's fixed now.)

(Fixed?!? Is that all you care about?!?)

(You grip the sides of the sink. You might be sick again at this rate. You couldn't tell if the nausea was from looping or from the mental argument you were having.)

(It's fine! Really, it's wonderful even! You could share what you learned now. And figure all this out. It's fine.)

(But first, cue Isabeau.)

"You alright, Sif?--" >> "--Just some loopy stuff, not that bad, I'll meet you for breakfast!"

(It's so easy to slip back into the old routine. It's comfortable. It's easy. You can just zone out and respond in exactly the right way. And yet, it made your skin crawl. After all you've been through you're still supposed to memorize a play? What a joke.)

(You go through the motions, get fully dressed, go downstairs, greet your party. Quesadillas again. They'd probably still be tasty, though you wont want them for a bit after these loops.)

"You sure you're alright??--" >> "--Do you think that's why you're sick again?"

(You were zoning out a lot. Change things up.)

"That would make sense, craft exhaustion, right?"

"Alright eat up then 'Frin, gotta get your energy back." (Nille gave you more food like last time.)

"At least let me finish first breakfast." (You say, smiling.) "I am hungry though."

(You still weren't sure if you felt better or worse after taking some time to relax. Although, that 'relaxing' time was cut short. You take a bite of the quesadilla.)

(??!?!!?!)

"Is Bonnie feeling okay?" (You ask.)

"They woke up with a headache, I think it's from that bonk from yesterday." (Nille looked worried at you bringing it up.) "Just, don't mention the burnt food."

(Odile spoke up from behind her book.) "It shouldn't be from that bang on the head. No concussion, any booboos they had Mirabelle healed up."

"Well what else would it be then."

(You quietly eat up the quesadilla. Just think for a second, Loop. It's probably nothing. Just focus on the task at hand.)

(You and I know that it's impossible for the past to change. If something did change, it would be us who did it.)

(So why does Bonnie have a headache?)

(. . .)

(You're still not giving me all the details~)

(It does not matter, it will distract you.)

(You're afraid arent you~ You're afraid that things are going to change~)

(As are you.)

(I'M at least trying to-)

(You bite your tongue.)

"Blinding-" (You exclaim.) "Ow."

"Everything alright, Siffrin?" (Odile asked.)

"Oh I just bit my tongue, eating too fast."

"Aw no!!" (Isa said, concerned.) Want me to check if it's ok??"

"So you can kiss it better?" (You reply, almost instinctually.)

"!??!?!!!?!?"

"HA!"

"Get a ROOM you two!"

(Isabeaus face was getting off shade, it took you a second before you processed what you just said and what it meant.)

"OH. UH. I DIDNT??? MEAN, UH???"

(you hide yourself in your hat. That's??? So embarrassing?!?!? Oh stars you said that as a JOKE. "I banged my elbow kiss it better." Stupid, stupid Loop! You're making such a fool of yourself.) ". . . S-sorry."

"Noit'sokI'mokit'sfine." (And now Isa was covering his face.)

(. . .)

(Not a WORD from you.)

(There's a bit of an awkward pause before casual conversation starts again. You mostly just zone out untill Bonnie comes back.)

(They looked. . . Fine? It was hard to tell from last time, maybe a bit more tired looking? Nothing physicaly wrong, not that it looked like, they caught you staring at stuck out their tongue at you and make a "nyeeh" noise. You stick your tongue out back.)

"Quite done, you two?" (Odile said without looking up.)

"'Frin started it."

"Did not."

"Did too!"

"Alright maybe I did."

(Mirabelle gasped.) "Siffrin? Admiting to cheekyness??"

"Truly a dark day." (Odile commented.)

(You all chuckle.)

(Here again. Back at the explination table. You know you could keep the loops a secret this time, but no. You needed help, you did ask for it after all~)

(Might as well make it fun, though. You look around and see a few scraps of note paper, you grab one and quickly write something down. Next, who to pass it to. . .)

(Odile is still in her book, Mirabelle was checking on Bonnie, Isabeau. . . Passing a note to Isa right now's a bad look. Nille, then. You crumple the paper into a ball and gently throw it at her as she's about to take a bite of food. She pauses and looks at you. You hold up a finger and wink.)

(You lean back in your chair.) "Let's skip going to the defenders, when we head there later today it just becomes a whole mess."

"You looped again!?!?--" >> "--I'll look for one of those next time."

(You hear a stiffled laugh come from Nille, looking over, she had de-crumpled the note and looked at it. She gave you a look and held it up.)

"So do you just have the whole crabbing day memorized, Siffy?" (The note was that whole exchange written down. Nille passes the note to Mirabelle to look.)

(You stick out your tongue.) "Maybe~"

"What's our next line then, Siffrin." (Odile had closed her book, now quite curious.)

"Well, bonnies next line is 'that's crabbing stupid.'"

"Language."

"No that comes after Bonnies line." (Ok this is kind of fun actually)

"Alright, but what's your next line." (Mirabelle says, curious.)

(You nod.) "That this will be try number four, or five, First was me and Odile at the library, rest of you to the Defenders place, Bonnie came running back to us because Mira was framed for kidnapping Bonnie."

"!?!?!?--" >> "--Language."

(There's a bit of a pause as everyone catches up to the exchange that just happened, and laughs.)

"Well, at least you're making light of it?"

"Tee hee, I try~" (Now, how to explain things quickly.) "Next loop we all went to the Defenders and bumped into an old friend of Isabeaus, going by Ramos now. We got split up, Ramos and Isa were acting suspicious, we confronted Ramos and they had a wishing star pendant like from yesterday. There was also a strong mint smell around. And then last loop Mira Isa and Odile went to figure out if mint was a sign of anything."

"That's, quite a lot to take in." (Said Odile.) "Well, did we find anything?"

(You nod) "Yep, a strong mint smell is assosiated with Mind Craft. It makes sense really, with how Isa and Stardust acted~"

". . . Stardust?"

(You wince. Stars! STARS! Oh great you were just TALKING and explaining things and DIDN'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT. Alright, fine, fine, you'd have to explain this anyways probably.)

(You could try again.)

"R-right, aha, well. . ." (You shook your head, lights, camera...) "Well it's a bit of a story, Mirabelle had the wonderful idea that we take a loop to rest up! Oh very, very thoughtful~"

"Uh, th-thank you?" (Mira looked confused, well, everyone did a little.) "Did, did it go alright?"

"Oh it did! For a bit. And then our good friend Ramos showed up. Stardust, Siffrin, thought it would be a wonderful idea to talk to them to figure out a few things. Buuuuuuuut then Ramos grabed their hand and he started acting ~very different~"

(You felt like you were going to have a heart attack. When was the last time you talked to your party? REALLY talked to them. It was on the final day, wasn't it? And even then you were all worried about Stardust. You just need to keep acting.)

"Let me guess. Siffrin was effected by mind craft in some way, but you weren't?" (Odile, like usual, was ahead of the curve.)

"Correct~ Hello by the way, your friendly neighborhood Loop here to help~"

"Oh! Good to talk to you again then!" (Mirabelle said excitedly.)

"Yeah. Lot cooler than 'Frin." (Bonnie said all cheekily.)

"A devistating blow to someone not even here. Are they around at all, by the way?" (Odile asked.)

"Well. . ."

(We shouldn't bring him to front. They are likely still effected by mind craft.)

(And how would you know that?)

(I don't.)

(Exactly. You tap your chin.) "Well I could get them, but we're worried that mind craft is still effecting him."

"Still?"

"But, didn't you turn back time?!?"

"Yeah, it never happened then, right?"

(You shrug.) "Kinda. Memories stay. Our body keeps some of it's changes, scars and muscle growth, but not wounds. We keep our fighting experience too, naturally. And for some reason, equipment."

"Oh right... Like the bow my classmate got me." (Mirabelle touched their bow, the same one.) "That really hurt my head to think about."

(Nille rubbed her head.) "Well if you get them we can check easily. And if Siffy's still gotten mind crabbery we'll..."

"Then we make sure Loop doesn't get effected either!!" (Isabeau said confidently.)

"Or undo it. It should be easy enough, unless-" (Odile starts)

"-it was powered by a wish." (You finish with her.)

". . This is weird." (Nille says.)

"Give me a day and I could recite those two days in Dormont by heart~"

"Even the sleepover?"

"Especially the sleepover."

(You all chuckle a bit at that. It's. . . Kind of nice, being able to be open about this. Even if you wish it could be in better circumstances.)

"I've got two plans today." (You say, as you take another bite of food.) "First, we'll all check on Stardust and see how he's handling things~ "

"Rude to talk and eat, Loopert." (Nille sais smugly.)

(You choke on your food. Loopert?!?!)

"Hah! Loopert."

"Hehe. It's a cute nickname."

(You sink down in your cloak and quickly finish that bite of food.) "Any chance we could rethink the nickname?"

"No!!! You're Loopert now!!!"

(Great.)

(Well if we they wont remember at least.)

"Alright alright, well the other thing I want to do is try talking to Ramos agian."

"Huh."

"So daring..."

"Are you sure about that, Loop." (Mirabelle seemed worried.)

"Well, I'm curious how they'll react. The last two times we've bumped into eachother they've been. . . acting strange. Oh, and I would like to talk to them one on one if possible."

"You do realize if that mind craft stuck this could be increddibly risky." (Odile looked concerned. Understandibly so.)

"I'd like to be around in case they try anything. . ." (Said Isabeau.)

(You nod.) "Well, if you all could stay nearby in case something does happen, that would be great."

"Why do you need to talk to them alone anyways?" (Nille asked.)

"W-well. . ." (How to put this.) "I don't want to be rude, but you all are terrible actors."

"Ah. . ."

"Oh. . ."

"Ouch, but fair."

"Sorry." (You shrug.) "One of the best advantages of not talking about the loops was knowing exactly how things go. But we made a promise to not keep secrets soooo~"

"No no, I understand Loop." (Mirabelle looked a bit dejected.) "I don't know if I'd be able to keep a straight face."

"Heh, I could do it." (Bonnie said smugly.)

"Sure you could Boniface." (Nille replied.)

"Yeah!!! I could!!!"

"I'll go sign you up for theater classes then."

"NO!!!!"

(Heh, that would be a sight to see.)

(At least we have a plan.)

[usagii-bun]

𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐄𝐓𝐇 ( NAMOR X READER ) PT.4

in which you find a child floating in the water and you save them only for your acts of kindness to get misinterpreted by the father who is also the king of an underwater civilization.

PLEASE READ THIS FIRST : this is a story i am writing on wattpad but my wattpad version is more in detail, slightly different and has an oc ( alora ). It has 6 chapters thus far and still work in progress if you want you can check it out with the link below or use the linktree link in my bio to access wattpad but if you feel more comfortable with x reader I'll try and get all the chapters I have currently published over here in a few days

hiraeth ( namor ) wattpad | oc version!

PART 1 , PART 2 , PART 3 , PART 4

TAG LIST :

@f1uveryys @xxmilli @ethereal-athalia @cyberficlya @complete-randomness-2 @bobateaae @lunamoonbby @kpopgirlbtssvt @lazyassfinals @ilovehobi101 @r3dc4ndy @puzzlemastersworld @namorlover @happycupcakeenthusiast @kakimakiloh @glaciuswduo @disaster-in-waiting @givemefiction2 @phoenixgurl030 @monbebefan247 @intense-sneezing

comment if you want to be apart of the tag list or set a notification to get updates when I post ! every like, share and reblog is highly appreciated, tysm 🤍

IT WAS NOW EVENING, the sun dipping below the horizon kissing the ocean goodbye, the sky a purplish-orange color adorn with a few grey clouds as Huracan and you were still outside enjoying the last bits of the day before it was time to go back in.

You had came to term with the fact that Huracan staying with you was only going to be momentarily. You grew attached to the child due to the loneliness that you felt from staying by herself for months in isolation, away from others due to your health issues.

You wondered if Huracan was also lonely and just wanted some company but your mind now questioning if Huracan has a family, what if they are waiting for him? Worried about him and in search of him, thinking of the worst things that could have happened to him. This left you to ruminate over

your thoughts as your gaze fall on the sky, that is becoming darker and darker.

There was thunder clouds looming above you due to the hot weather you experienced today, the clouds were forming and becoming aggravated with each second that passed by— this alarming you as you walk back to the tidal pool to retrieve Huracan and putting a stop to your fleeting thoughts.

"C'mon, Hura. We need to get back in." You say, watching as the boy breaks through the surface of the water— eyes sparkling with life as he listens to you instantly, emerging from the pool only to latch onto your arm, his skin turning back into a shade of blue as you both walk home.

The rain came down. It suddenly came down heavy causing you to gasp in shock when the harsh rain pelted down onto you, you turn towards Huracan to notice that he had his eyes closed— enjoying the rain water that got soaked into his skin while you on the other hand felt a shiver tingling down your spine even though the air was warm.

Knowing that if you had to stay in the rain for way too long— you would definitely get sick but watching the boy enjoy the fresh water that falls onto him , you decided to wait a few minutes because seeing his face brighten up from just the simple feeling of rain water against his skin made you realize that the simple things in life is what makes living much better, it made you feel at ease with yourself.

A bright flash of purple and then a loud crackling noise followed by a hiss came from above you and Huracan shocks you at the loud noise and the thunderstorm that has finally brewed up, the rain became even heavier causing your heart to beat faster.

"Let's get back inside, we don't want to become fried fish today." You say, laughing at your lame excuse of a joke which Huracan didn't understand fully but he did understand that you wanted to go back inside from the way your body had stiffened slightly.

He was about to agree but then the sight of a shiny, shell that was a bit closer to the ocean water grabs his attention— he wanted to get that shell so that he could give it to you, forgetting that you wanted to go back in as he leaves your side, alarming you as he runs down the bank to go and retrieve the shell.

"Huracan!" You shout out alarmed, the rain pelting down heavily, the sky above you becoming dark— the only source of light now coming from the lighting that viciously flashed from above and the few outside lights from your house.

You slide down the steep slope to get to the boy only for your flip-flop to get stuck into something and in turn crashing into the youngster causing him to also fall and let out a small yelp.

"oh gosh, Hura! I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to!" You cried out, you moved to his side to see that you had slightly bruised his knee cap, crimson escaping from the bruise as guilt consumes you from being so unconscious and not watching where you walked.

Huracan didn't feel much pain from the small bruise, he was about to tell you it's okay but you tore a small part of your shirt to help stop the bleeding. A small amount of blood covered your finger tips when you wrapped the small piece of cloth around his tiny knee cap, tightening the cloth around it.

A throbbing feeling around your ankle became prominent as you gazes down at your leg, to find that you had slightly twisted your ankle due to your flip-flop getting stuck onto something— that being the whole reason you slipped.

A small cry leaves from your parted lips, the thunderstorm viciously going on above them as the rain fell down. Your body was drenched in rain water, making you shiver adding more to the pain you felt in your ankle.

"Y-Y/N!" the young child cried out grasping onto your shoulders, he gazed at you to find that tears were also trailing down your cheeks with the rain water, your hands covered in wet sea sand and dabs of blood.

This made tears to form in Huracan's eyes, he was now scared and worried about you, the person that took care of him like he was their own child— he didn't know what to do to help you, making him feel even more worried and scared as the thunder flashed and rumbled.

Your body that trembled suddenly went stiff, your blood running cold— you felt like you and Huracan were being watched.

You were right.

The sound of something fluttering, similar to the sound of a rattle snake mingled with the harsh noises of the rain, lightning and the waves that crashed close by.

The fluttering sound stops , it suddenly goes eeirely quite, Huracan's whimpers go silent and before you could comprehend whether you was just feeling paranoid —something grasped the collar of the shirt you wore and pulled you harshly away from Huracan, throwing you to the other side away from him.

You heard Huracan scream your name out, your body feeling extremly numb, the world around you spinning while terror sunk into every firbe of your being.

Your neck twists to the side to see what had thrown you so viciously away from Huracan, fear laminating in your eyes, your gaze being met with the tip of a sharp spear, your body flinching away from it in terror but it was now pressed against the side of your neck in a threatening manner to slice your head off clean.

The lightning struck again, giving you a better vision of what was being hostile towards you , your eyes widening when your gaze falls on a man— his entire being radiate regality from the way his body oozed confidence to the jewelry that was adorn upon him. His chest covered in some sort of metal that was beautiful crafted, the same type of metal also adorning his biceps and wrists.

She also noticed that he had pointed ears, adorn with jewels just like the rest of him.

You shakily raise your hands, to say you was no threat or harm but this act seemed to make the man even more infuriated when he spotted dabs of blood smeared on your finger tips and then seeing blood around the area where Huracan was.

"How dare you take my son away and harm him?"

Shit. Was the first thought that came to your mind, you was right, Huracan did have someone to go back to— your thoughts being cut short when the cold tip of the spear pressed even closer to your neck that you could feel the pressure tearing slightly into your skin.

Your words were stuck in your throat from fear, you couldn't formulate a response except for a shaky breath to escape past your lips, your body trembling from pain and fear.

Due to your lack of response that made the King even more agitated, his spear was about to press into the side of your neck but tiny hands wrapped around his arm, holding it in place before he could slash at you.

"Father, please don't!" the young child cried out in his own language, this alerting the king who turns towards his son— the furious look that had adorn his face moments ago was replaced by one that was filled with worry.

"Huracan, my child. Are you alright? Did it hurt you?" his voice venomous when he says the word it , you didn't understand what they were saying but from the side glare the man had passed to you, you knew he had said something about you.

"No! Do not bring harm to y/n, she had saved me! Please do not harm her, she didn't do anything wrong. If you want to punish someone, father— it should be me, I should have never left Talokan." The boy sobs out, hearing Huracan's broken voice made your chest hurt— your eyes squeezing shut to prevent any tears from escaping as everything around you started to spin, the world around you becoming blurry as all the pain you felt physically and emotionally became blunt.

Your vision being filled with black dots that became larger until your eyes closed completely, body slumping into the sand— the fear you felt along with the pain made you fall unconscious this grabbing Huracan's attention, the boy letting go of his father's arm to rush towards you.

A cry leaves past his parted lips, his hands reached out to hug your cold body against his.

"Look what you have done, father. You killed her!" The boy says inbetween sobs, you was far from dead but to Huracan seeing your still body, no warm smile on your face and your eyes that twinkled with care and affection was no longer there— you looked dead to him.

K'uk'ulkan looked down at you. His son held onto you so gently, the rain easing down — the thunderstorm slowly clearing up.

"Hura.. she's not dead." The king says while his inner voice says  'well not yet'. He didn't trust you, this human but the way his son held onto you like his own life depended on you— he could not just kill you after he found out you had saved his son.

"You have to help her then or else I'll hate you forever." Huracan suddenly spat out— eyes shining bright with anger and saddness, his words stung K'uk'ulkan , his heart aching at the words his son spewed at him. An expression of hurt forms on K'uk'ulkan's face, a soft sigh leaving past his lips.

He glances down at your unconscious form that laid on the sand, his son's words floating around in his mind. He bends down towards you, taking in your features— noticing your skin has gotten paler and your ankle was swelling.

He was not keen on helping you, a surface dweller, he had hate for these disparage creatures but seeing how his son has become attached to you, clinging. He couldn't just kill you.

With one last glance towards your unconscious body, he looks back towards the raging ocean as he signals for Namora to come to him. He turns away and looks down at his son, his heart softening when he sees the tears on his cheeks as he sighs lightly.

'I'm only doing this for you my child.'

PART 5

[ilovehugslikealotalot]

The New Arrival (Series)

(not my gif)

Alcina Dimitrescu x fem!reader

What is that painting? The painting in the West Wing. What is it?

For context: Melina is around 50 and Fiona is 48, Y/n is in her 20s

FOR ALL OF MY ROMANIANS AND FRENCHIES PLEASE FORGIVE ME. I’m using Google Translate because I can only do so many Duolingo lessons a day 😭

┌───── •✧✧• ─────┐

The One in the Painting

└───── •✧✧• ─────┘

WARNING: 18+ MINORS DO NOT ENGAGE fluff, angst, smut

Part 3

✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿

It had been a few months now, since y/n had arrived at Dimitrescu Castle. Since then, Melina and Fiona have become mother figures for y/n. This led to her knowing about every detail that has happened in the castle.

There’s a portrait. On the West Wing of the Castle.

Many maiden’s knew of this portrait but never knew if it existed at all, no one was allowed in the room it was said to be in. “It’s a portrait of Lady Dimitrescu’s old lover!” The maiden’s would say, whilst doing chores in the kitchen.

Of course, due to y/n’s lack of…well…speaking.

Not many of the maiden’s hung around her for too long, except now. Y/n didn’t mind, but she also didn’t seem to know why. “What was the Lady like?”

“Was she as gorgeous as they say she is?” Some would swoon, “Is she charming?” “I bet she’s voluptuous like in the portrait!” They’d exclaim, dramatically leaning back with the back of their hand on their forehead. Y/n only smiled sheepishly, sweeping a little father away, away from the commotion all of them were making.

Melina and Fiona enter the kitchen. Suspiciously enough, they were unusually sweaty and Fiona panting slightly, trying to hide her tired body. Y/n walked over, helping Fiona stand. Melina hid a smirk and turned away to face the other maidens, “Let’s hurry up! It’s almost time for light’s out!”

“You… broken?” Y/n gently asked, Fiona’s eyes slightly widened, she hadn’t heard y/n ask a question before. “I- uh, no. I’m okay, I just tripped. I’m fine though, love.” Fiona smiled, tucking a piece of y/n’s hair behind her ear. “And for future reference, my dear. It’s hurt not broken” the older woman giggled, sitting down, “Okay, rest” the young maiden smiled, giving Fiona a hug.

Y/n, of course, continued her duties, efficiently scrubbing the counters. The other maiden’s giggled amongst each other, talking about earlier, still swooning over the lady of the castle.

Finally, after vigorous scrubbing, profuse washing, and gallons of cleaning products. The kitchen was restored into the pristine condition it was once in. One of the maidens entered, “lights out in 40! You all go get ready for bed”

Walking through the halls of the opulent Castle, y/n found herself observing the walls, inspecting the paintings, one of them seeming to stand out. The maiden had to agree she had been roaming mindlessly, hoping somehow she’d get to her room. But, maybe a little closer peek couldn’t hurt.

The painting was of a beautiful woman, her hair was a shade of ginger that could make an apple rot with envy. Her skin was as white as porcelain. Though her eyes…they looked like extravagant emeralds but they held a mischevious and delusional glint. She looked sweet but dangerous.

“Draga, it’s late.”

Y/n whipped around and smiled, “Oh, I’m sorry, My Lady. It seems as though I’ve lost track of time.”

Alcina chuckled, placing a bare, well manicured, hand on y/n’s chin, then leading her out of the room and down the hall. “No, worries, Draga Mea. Now, I must know, how did you get to the West Wing?”Y/n poor heart skipped a beat, Alcina’s face altered, hearing the change in her heartbeat. Alcina gave her a smal rub in the back. “It’s alright, you’re not in trouble. I know it was an accident, love”

The maiden swallowed hard, “I- ehm…well, I was curious and roamed the halls. It was an accident, my lady. Forgive me” Y/n sheepishly stood not daring to look up at Alcina, the Countess smirked, “All is forgiven, little thing. Now, off to your chambers. I wouldn’t want you tired for tomorrow. Especially, since the lords are coming.” Alcina smiled, walking Y/n down the stairs toward her chambers. Truly, Alcina was worried that the maiden had seen the portrait.

The portrait was…important to her.

It always has been, ever since it was painted. The woman in the painting, her name was Charlotte. Alcina’s first and only love, she had gone missing decades ago. Alcina vowed never to love another as she did Delilah, for it would tear her apart to see someone she loved the most in this cruel world to be taken from her.

The Countess dreamed of the day where she would see her beloved once again. But, that day was unlikely to come.

“My Lady, who was that? The One in the Portrait, I mean” Alcina snapped out of her own intrusive thoughts, looking down at Y/n and smiling. “An old…love of mine, Draga. No need to worry your little head about it, now. Hurry off to bed.” Alcina had tried to explain the matter without causing an outburst. Y/n nodded her head with a smile close her chamber door behind her. Alcina sighed, she never thought this would have to happen again. After decades, the same situation happens like a continuous loop.

✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿•.¸¸.•*•.•ஜீ☼۞☼ஜீ•.•*•.¸¸.•✿ஜீ۞ஜீ✿

tags: @marilynthornhilllover @willalovexx @willowshadenox @simpformelissa @pinklybleu @niceminipotato @tintedrose12 @koing-slvt @enchantressb @poorwritingandstalecoffee @winterfireblond @ssinfulprayers

special thanks: @marilynthornhilllover for everything honestly

So sorry for my crappy writing this chapter. 😭

[ryuichirou]

can you pretty pretty please with extra sprinkles on top drop the speedpaint for your most recent rookvil art? i wanna see how you did vils pretty dress and everything else cause its all so beautiful

I am so happy you like how it looks!! I would love to make a speedpaint, but unfortunately, I didn’t record it + the base for the drawing was actually done traditionally with a pencil. A lot of my drawings are done this way, actually…

Even though I can’t drop the speedpaint, I’ll do the next best thing and explain my process for this specific drawing step-by-step. It’s actually not that complicated!

Here is how the sketch looked initially. As you can see, I shaded the dress very crudely; in fact I was kind of upset with how the dress looked at this stage. Ironically, I ended up not doing much to the pencil shading, and it still turned out okay somehow?? Anyways, the first thing I did was to prep the sketch for the colouring stage: I adjusted the contrast, fixed Vil’s face, and erased some dirt and imperfections.

Then I create a new layer, set it to Multiply (this way I can colour the sketch without disturbing it, as if I was just colouring a digitally done lineart) and do a base colour layer. There is a gradient in Vil’s hair and Rook’s belt buckle, but other than that, all the colours are flat at this stage.

Before doing all the shading needed for this sketch, I add details such as makeup and tights. If you want to know how I did these, let me know, but I basically looked at a tutorial once and then simplified it lol

Now, the dress.

To be completely honest, there isn’t any proper technique to what I did, everything is always just trial and error and an hour of me going “does that look good? NO IT DOESN’T >:(“ until both Katsu and I are satisfied. This time I was lucky, because it didn’t take very long, and the “solution” was pretty simple.

Starting with the base colour. I turned off the sketch layer to show that it is indeed completely purple. And it looks kind of bright at this point, almost too bright even, especially considering that the dress is supposed to be mostly black, or at least dark purple. But bear with me.

Next I added some highlights (new layer, set on Overlay or Screen, depending on what looks best). Usually I would add the shades first, but I wanted to make the fabric look more “shiny”, you know, the type of fabric that would reflect the floor and make this highlight under the boob lol.

And after that I just went ahead and added black gradient (on a new Layer) from the bottom of the dress to make it look darker, silkier and a little bit more interesting for the eye. I erased some parts of the gradients as you can see, because it looked too dark on the highlighted parts… could’ve just placed the black gradient layer under the highlights layer and saved myself a headache, but hey, where is the adventure in that.

Finally, it turned out looking like this. It looks better than it used to look like initially, but there is one more thing to do. We don’t get to do this one too often, so it always excited both Katsu and me: THE SPARKLES!! Somehow, making the dress sparkly makes everything much better.

How do I do the sparkles: I use the star brush… or was it a snow brush? I use this brush when I draw both of these things lol + when I draw anything sparkly. I would’ve given you this specific one, but I don’t really remember where I got it from, and I honestly think that any starry or snowy brush would work wonderfully as long as the specs are small enough.

After that is done, I just shade the rest of the drawing. Nnew layer set on Multiply, the shading is done with darker purple/red + darker blue, whatever looks better on any particular material: the skin really likes warmer colours, but Rook’s suit looked bad with red shades, so I adjusted it to blue.

And here is the post where I talk about how I colour hair! Good thing I already wrote that one, this post is getting long lol

And the last step is to add details. The original sketch was done in a rather small (smaller than A6) sketchbook, so I couldn’t draw all the details like Vil’s earrings and stuff properly. Basically I just paint on a separate layer on top of everything.

And there you have it! I hope it makes sense, please let me know if you have questions.

[helloescapist]

(HELLO HELLO I HOPE YOURE DOING WELL!!💮 I HAVE A REQUEST FOR YOUU FEEL FREE TO IGNORE ME!!) so this is a KNY x kitsune uppermoon y/n!!

So the upper moons three (aka kokushibo, douma, akaza,) hearing about this new uppermoon demon and when kitsune y/n came into the infinity castle and introduced they're self they were really sly and cocky about it! What would there reactions be like??

(Also in this y/n uses a fan like douma but more detailed she is also a nine tailed fox in this!!)

(if you wanna add more stuff to y/n feel free to!! Just make sure you have fun and you are healthy!!)

-🦊

hello, hello 🦊

This is a very fun ask! I did my absolute best with what you gave me, and I hope that it meets your expectations! If you'd ever like to add more details to this reader feel free to stop by my inbox, I was a little pressed for time, and wanted to stick to as much of the details as you provided me. I had so much fun imagining a powerful, bold woman in the upper kizuki.

Beneath the Veil + Headcanons | The Upper Three Moons

Word count: 3237

Setting: Uppermoons x kitsunefemreader! (new addition to the Upper Moons)

Content Warnings: mentions violence/gore

Summary: the newly inducted, fourth moon introduced to the Upper Three Moons.

A/N: So, because the kitsune has a tendency to play back and forth from good to bad in Japanese folk tale, I chose to base the reader off of kumiho, the Korean fox demon as they are more prone to being depicted as maneaters).

The delicate hues of ambered glows that emerged from the darkness. Struct to life with a single cord, a note plucked from the night that gave birth to thousands of flames as though called damning phantoms to their duty. Cast to spent eternity in hell, guarding the depths of the hallway through the infinity castle. Glows that echoed across infinity, danced upon shadows across tatami mats. Traced silhouettes upon silk bound by lacquered panels. Deep walnuts met exquisite shades of wood that elicited the envy of foreign porcelain. Delicate as they were immaculately selected a testament to the lord of hell himself, soaked in the blood of innocents that had built the unattainable fortress; soaked with an ominous glow that threatened to snub the life of those who entered its corridors.

Each strike upon a chord a threat that abducted its victims from their refugee, dragging them to the depths of hell to answer their master’s call. A sharp note that once bore warmth, now a whisper of death’s welcome, the musician’s long lanky fingers danced across the strings. Nails gouged notes that screamed of treachery. Hair reminiscent of ink spilled in vein, dreams that would never attribute to any merit, music drowned by the depths of night to never be heard in the light of day as etched into the instructions upon her skin, and guided her siren calls. A single strum far more than capable of calling forth the undoing of man, devoid of emotion in each calculated placement. The upper ranks each a preference of their own space, save for the few.

              The attendees less than they had been in prior attendance, the caution she bid with each press of her rouged lips in greeting to the newly arrivals. The first Upper Moon savoring his space, and secrecy as he so often craved. A figment of past eras, poised as the markets that etched upon his skin and refined as the well-practiced long fingers that tipped the lavish ginseng tea to his lips. The lush spread of black hair that captured the envy of the night draped upon his shoulder. The compose straight of his back, perpendicular to the floor beneath him, his ankles tucked beneath him as straight as the line that formed at his lips. Content to himself, the notes of melancholy are a mere tune to enjoy in sacred solitude.

              Unlike the bickering of the two upper ranks before the biwa player. The second moon quickly seeks out the company of the third. Sunkissed hair, as pale as bright as the sun’s rays that met against sheltered, porcelain skin. Dewy flesh as soft as imported cotton, as lavish as freshly spun silk that met the highs of his thick ebony eyebrows. Playful iridescent eyes that captivated the light delighted in hues of kaleidoscope twinkled as they toyed with their prey. The number of his ranking etched into his irises. The wave of his hand jovial despite the tense atmosphere, and his voice as harmonious as the false kindness touched upon his features. Subtle childlike expressions that concealed the vile aspects of his personality, mocked sympathies as he whispered concerns to the stress lines that blossomed at Akaza’s brow. The tilt of his head projecting artificial concern, “Ah, I was so sad to hear of Hantengu and Gyokko.” Cooed as the way he attempted to draw near the Third Moon, the equip of betraying his façade. “I was so worried about you Akaza.”

              A mere growl the only evidence of speech dormant within the tense expression bore by the redhead. His doll-like crimson eyelashes furrowed dripping with spit as he averted his eyes from the taunting blight.  The markings at his brow crinkled, and creased at the highs of his cheeks, the shade of midnight etched into his flesh. Wrinkled at the grit of his teeth, the amber of his emblem eyes quivered at the clench of his muscles. Restrained trembles resolved agitation confined to the hierarchy embroiled on his mind from the prior meeting of the upper kizuki. The small growl of at the base of his throat, threatening the vein that drew at his temple.  “Oh dear, Lord Aka, you’ll wrinkle,” the predatory nature in which he considered drawing his nail at the outer marking upon the Third’s cheek, with draw upon the strike of a biwa cord resonating within his bones. The corner of his lips rid of any tease of concern, elicited amusement and joy. His canines revealed as the happiness emulated his features, “My, my, it would seem our new little fourth has arrived, I’ve heard rumors. I’m so excited to meet Lady [YN]. To think, she is so close to acquiring your rank, Lord Aka—” Shattered fist that drew upon the bottom of the Second Moon’s jaw. Snapped bones fragmented and teeth that struck the floor. Splatter of black blood, followed by the press of silence. The delight warm in the demon’s eyes despite the dislocation of his jaw torn from the hinges of his skull.

              “Akaza,” slow and stern. Deep and rich, drawn authority. “You will show respect.”

              The hum of his voice resignation in the quiver of his shoulders. The touch upon his vest offering no concealment, exposed to the calculating gaze of Doma, who merely delighted in the well place fear of his subordinate. The growth of his jaw snapped and grotesque as the grin that met at his teeth. “Ah, Lord Kokushibo, you’re so considerate, but please, we wouldn’t want to scare the little Fourth Moon.” Mocking, and depraved of sincerity the glint upon his gaze, a den of wolves at all angles. The first moon merely detached and appraising the arrival, the Third posed and ready threatened at the new arrival while the second merely delighted at his unease. Satisfied as the clank of the koma-geta intentionally drummed to the slants of the wood. Each step deliberately falling in line with music unheard by the remainder of the Moons.

              “Oh, don’t mind me,” warm and harmonious as the steps that echoed upon the wood flooring. Rouged lips as vibrant as blood matched only by the hue lingered upon your gaze. The compelling marking of your ranking etched into your eyes, drawn to predatory slants. Movements fluid and as the sway of your hips, unbothered by the delicate embellishments, gifts of slayed lovers catching in the lantern glows. Luminescent as the fires within your eyes, the pout of a smile forming, at the reveal of your upper thigh, the fold of your kimono exposing skin to the night air. Shoulders born, the draw of your hair long and luxurious. Intricately weave and revealing the lavish nature of odango, curled upon impossible lengths, questionable so, and hinting upon the figments of magic as the press of the fan, a false pretense of a docile woman. Conveying only one that cultivated your pray, drew attention to the depths of your clavical and the heave of your breast, as well as the canine that revealed in your smile more than enough to elicit the wrinkle of the Third’s nose, and the further grit of his teeth. Demure and coy as the roll of your shoulder in a mock bow, the bend of your knees in greeting to the Upper Tier moons.  The curl of tails falling at your back, toyed upon the steps you drew forward in greeting, poised in charm. The plush of your tails, traced upon by Kokushibo counting as they swayed, unable to conceal the nature of your being. The dangle upon the hair pins, harmonious, and musical each pitch falling upon the screams of torn lovers devoured in the dead of night on a rendezvous turned blood bath. The draw of their appeal tempting Doma to curl his fingers from one specific one. A delicate one, intentionally placed, as fragile as blown glass. Aged and polished, bearing an unspoken significance standing apart from the others as revealing as the smile Doma bore the callous of his finger drawing to allow its jingle.

              The snap of your fan swift, a clatter that drew Lord Kokushibo’s many eyes, observation and traced upon movements nearly missed upon Akaza’s. The threat poised in your stature, revealing the concealed lethality as your fan cupped under the Second’s chin forcing his jaw and his attention to your own. “Careful, I’m not certain you can afford my services.” Delicate and struck upon the biwa cord intended to maintain the façade of seduction slipped between venom.

              “Oh my,” Doma purred despite the obvious tension of disarray upon the Infinity Castle, predators poised, and mistrustful. None among you willing to entrust yourselves with one another, and such clear disrespect while portrayed as playfulness etched into unspoken territories. “They say, little foxes never reveal their true selves.” Delighted and warmed, allowing his chin to press into the fan at the quip of his grin growing dark and sinister as they traced the guarded the embellishment, “but there is always something that gives them away.”

Beneath the Veil Headcanons | Kokushibo, Doma, and Akaza

Initially, your presence has agitated Akaza. He places a significant importance upon his battle prowess, and any new addition to the Upper Moon draws his focus. Most commonly, it’s because he desires a challenge.

Adores the opportunity to combat a new opponent, especially one who is immortal, and able to rise night after night, and free him from his boredom.

However, in your case, the flow of your pride, and the confidence in each of your steps elicits his ire. The draw of your rouged lips, touched upon intentionally placed laughter, callous and artificial as the Second Moon’s, and at first, your resemblance to the upper rank is more than enough grounds for Lord Akaza to hold you in contempt.

The ranking just below his, he thinks, no is confident that he could eliminate you from the rankings if not for his Achilles heel. A woman amongst the Upper Ranks, while not impossible, or something he has not happened upon before, yet the dire situation that the Demon forces have found themselves against the Slayers, the opportunity to evade your existence as he had Nakime, and Daki is unlikely.

Close quarters, and frequent meetings he is stuck with the eyesore (you), and he is bitter. Aware that finding another replacement for the Upper tier will only elicit Muzan’s ire, and so he is left with little choice but to accept the stain of your smile upon his night.

Endure the taunting and teasing, regardless how much his skin recoils at the linger of your touch. Internal war, if only you were a male his stance would be far simpler.

Though of course, as a newly inducted Moon, you are unlikely aware of his aversion to women, and it’s easy to take such slights personally. Just as the way you conduct yourself leaves the impression that it is fully your intention to toy with him, only furthering his contempt.

Yet, as time goes on, and small details of each of your pasts, or positions are revealed whether in little slips of having to frequent each other’s territories, or one slipped from Doma, who just delights stirring the pot, you’ll discover that there is more to your compatibility than initially believed.

The reality is that you are both by nature in desperate need of trust to cement your bond whether romantically, friendship, or just work peers. But it will take so much time, or mere forced together orders from the Master for him to accept your partnership on various missions.

No matter how I look at it, tact-wise, Muzan is likely to keep you within Akaza’s vicinity. Ironically, Akaza believes he is safeguarding you when in reality, you’re his caretaker.

Intended to shield him from the depths of reality, and sweep away any potential female opponents that may stray into his range. It’s going to be difficult, and one full of back and forth cutting remarks. Both of you are prone to being fairly forthcoming with your communication and ires, and as such, communication is likely to flow quite a bit better than it would with the other moons.

Both of you are fairly adaptable, and makes the work relationship easier to navigate in the flow of battle.

As one who utilizes a fan, the only difficulty is that your fighting stances are a little more difficult to navigate, and will take trial and error. Especially as Akaza does not desire your assistance—nor accepts you as a warrior.

You are not prone to being on the wavelength, and butting heads will come rather routinely for the both of you, but I imagine that Akaza will falter in most disputes.

Not because you haven’t entirely pissed him off, but as he remains traditional at his core, and values the more historical entanglement men and women have had for centuries.

Although, admittedly, your inability to shy away from conflict may actually delight him.

I mean, he’ll never admit it, but you discover that he is far more willing to seek out your company, allowing more time to actually remain around you.

Seeks to protect you, though there are little threats aside from the remainder of the UpperMoons tha could pose a threat to your existence, and because of this, it won’t be difficult to catch on to the fact that Akaza actually just enjoys your company.

though he cannot articulate why that may be.

Oh the dynamic duo that draws exhaustion from all parties in your vicinity. He delights in your pluck, and is instantly smitten with you.

Oh, he delights in the banter, in the opportunity to go blow for blow. Unlike Lord Akaza, your gender means very little to him aside from the fact that if the Second were to perhaps take a small nibble… the thought has crossed his mind you will be delectable.

Far more delicious than those of his worshipers, or any courtesan.

Craves the moment in which he may finally infringe upon your bites. Though it will not be any time soon—you are in no rush to challenge him for his placement, and thus taking a nibble out of you will result in Lord First’s clear disapproval, Lord Akaza has more than expressed his disgust at his tastes, and he is certain that the Master would not accept searching for a replacement.

Which may secure his existence, but he’s not confident enough to make that bet, and so for now, Doma will just delight in peeking beneath the veil.

He has a natural talent for sniffing out the details you do not wish to dispose, such as the aged embellishment you safeguarded upon your meeting. It’s so pretty.

What if he were to break it?

Oh the thought gives him amusement, and because of this, he will push and play. Press nerves, but beneath it, the cold and guarded exterior you often display, is not fooling him.

Just as his false pretenses are not luring you to any deceptions any time soon, you are well aware that Lord Second is not as dimwitted as he pretends to be.

No, rather, you are so faithfully aware that the smallest part of you cannot understand how Lord Third does not see the way the cult leader lures him time, and time again.

You are both adapt at processing, and because of this, there leaves little missed opportunities for the both of you. An opening, and similar fighting styles will make for a lethal combination.

While you have the ability to seize tactical movements, Doma has the ability to prey upon emotional weaknesses, only furthering your opportunities.

Sadly, it’s the consistent skipping over small details that could lead to the downfall of the both of you. While Doma is more than willing to get to know you.

Oh he adores the challenge, and welcomes it as it comes, or he forces it. He so desperately seeks out company, perhaps due to his own upbringing and staleness of life, you offer a rare treat amongst the mundane, but if you are wishing for something more there will be a complication of how forthcoming Doma himself avers to be.

The real question is if either of you are willing to reveal your hands, but the teasing is more than delectable.

The oldest of the Upper Moons will show very little interest upon your arrival at first. The reality is that for the swordsman, many such as you have come, and gone just as swiftly as they have arrived.

He is aware you are a mere last minute addition composed of pressure from the Demon Slayer Corps, and as such, he has a tendency to meet your inclusion as little more than formality.

Keeping to the hierarchy, and unspoken protocol of the kizuki. Yet as you continue to linger, and force yourself into his company, little things such as expressing that you will be seeing him soon, and falling through with such sentiments is likely to gain his interest.

Especially if you follow more formal, traditional methods that are reminiscent of the Edo era. Intuitive by nature, the both of you have the ability to make decisions regardless of how complex the situation may be.

Such formalities, and flow of your time together, the way he finds himself allowing to come undone, and touch upon past selves, he’s curious. So to the point he would not admit to such, and yet, you have caught his attention.

For you, it is the fact that Lord Kokushibo, renowned for his reclusive nature has taken up an interest in you. While it’s true that he will not be changing his nature, nor can you expect him to grow more extroverted.

It is not who he is, and never will be, you will delight in the way he entertains your company. Quietly awaiting your arrival to his accommodations, the sudden appearance of a second tea cup upon your arrival, and engaged conversation.

You know you are warming up to him. The blunt approach to the both of your natures is a contribution to the flow of discussions, and as such there’s a warmth that comes naturally between the two of you should you only give it time.

However, that’s the catch. It will require a depth of time but you’re both immortal so… you are not one to dispose of your hand, cloaking yourself rather than readily reveal vulnerabilities, and the same can be expressed by the Upper Moon.

Your bond is one that is unspoken, and is as natural as the flow of the winds and breath within your lungs. A natural understood, able to see each other for who you truly are, and as long as you allow yourself the ability to accept the time it will take—you will find that your connection is one of sparks.

If it is a romantic connection you are seeking, you may find yourself savoring his touch, and the callousness of his hands. The quiet purse of his lips as he listens to your recent encounters, and the small smile that forms at his lips.

If it is not a romantic connection you desire, then you will find friendship will come just as easily, but ultimately, a work relationship will be one in passing.

Not a partnership in which you routinely work together, but rather a co-worker that you have a great repertoire with.

[queentheweeb]

Katsuki Bakugo X Shy Autistic Male Reader

A/N: I am dedicating this month to autistic readers and women-identifying readers as well courtesy of women's history month and autism awareness month as well. Most will be drabbles so between 1k and 1.3k words

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You had a habit of fixating on things. Whenever something caught your interest you needed to know every single thing about it. A lot of people found this annoying about you but, you didn't care. Who wouldn't want to know everything about a subject if it interests them, right? There is nothing wrong with spending hours sometimes well into the night googling and reading articles, journal entries, excerpts, and other things as well about it. You would go to the first person who would listen to you and, that was normally your mama. Sometimes though she was too busy or too tired to listen to you even though you would keep going until she yelled at you to stop. It didn't hurt your feelings too bad because she promised to listen to you another time and promises were everything, they were someone's word. Right now though? Your fixation was Katsuki Bakugo. You would observe him and everything that he did. The color of his hair when it shined in the light, when it was the 100-watt bulbs in the common room, sunlight, bathroom light. The way his skin glistened the angrier he got and the more he moved and used his quirk. The shade of red his eyes turned depending on his mood or the outside weather, even who he was talking to. He was a whole puzzle, more like a 5,000-piece puzzle and you loved to do puzzles. The only problem is that you cannot find it in you to interact with the 5,000-piece puzzle.

"Hey Y/N?" You turned jumping a little not hearing or even seeing Izuku walk up to you. You liked Izuku a lot. He was the first one you told that you were autistic and he still treated you the same but with more understanding. He had patience explaining things to you that you didn't understand as well. Also, he would let you hold onto his 100% cotton burgundy t-shirt that smelled like citrus. "I didn't mean to scare you but, I got some more stuff you can write down in your notebook if you want?" Oh yeah, you told him about your infatuation with Katsuki and he was more than willing to help. The whole 'Dekusquad' actually agreed to help at your pace though because they didn't want to rush you or overwhelm you.

"Thank you Izuku, let me just get my blue notebook with my pen." You pulled out a blue composition notebook that you kept for strictly Katsuki. You would think you would have a red or orange or even a green since those were his colors but, you wanted something simplistic and in your favorite color. He was your favorite person besides Izuku anyway. 

"I know you have a lot about him but, there is no such thing as too much right?" You nodded your head in agreement looking down at his hero analysis book. He had a lot of them chock full of details, especially of his classmates and you thought he was pretty cool. It was nice to have someone who didn't mind listening to your rambling on and on about a topic and never getting bored. He even showed the same interest and you listened to him as well. 

"Do you think he hates me?" You didn't think he did, it was no harm in asking. You had a habit of not 'reading the room' whatever that meant and jumping to conclusions, assuming really the worst. Izuku gave you a look as if you said something wrong.

"What makes you think he hates you? Trust me on this Y/N, Kacchan does not hate you. It's the opposite actually but, that's something you're going to have to find out for yourself. You will find it soon enough. You can even ask him." You did not want to directly ask him. Every time you had a conversation with him you felt that you were not getting anywhere talking to him. However, you managed to catch his interest in cooking and gave him different spicy recipes and regular recipes he can cook. He even cooked some of them already and would come to you for suggestions as well as tips for your quirk. Since you had a magnesium quirk he suggested the best non-flammable items and where to get them at. That was the basis of your friendship but, you did not want a friendship. You wanted to hold his hand and smell his hoodies and t-shirts. Give him cheek kisses too if he wants but holding hands and spending time with him is good enough for you too. 

"Do you think I am overthinking it? Should I just ask him? How would I ask him?" He was always with Ejirou, Hanta, Mina, and Denki. He never really got time to himself except for when he was going to bed. He hated being disturbed because he got up at 4:45 AM. You knew this because you were up at that time going to bed at 9 PM unless you were researching a specific topic or doing homework that you couldn't finish during the day.

"I think you can ask him at night right before 8:30. He would not mind if it is you knocking on his door." You weren't sure what he meant but, that must be a good thing. That means he would not mind you interrupting his sleep. He has to like you in some shape or form. 

"Thank you Izuku." You grabbed his notebook to write down anything new while listening to the buzz of the deku-squad talking around you. You looked up one time to look around spotting Katsuki looking at you already so you attempted a smile. He seemed to freeze before giving you a small one back. Just as quickly as it appeared it was gone. You filed that away of things you liked about Katsuki for later. The rest of the day went by fast with you mostly in your head and Aizawa as well as your friends coaxing you out of your head. It was very nice and sweet of them to do that for you. It was finally night time and everyone was in the common room watching TV when at 8:05 Katsuki announced he was going to bed. You waited another 5 minutes before waving goodnight to your friends and heading upstairs to the dorm. You weren't going to yours, you were going to Katsuki's. You made it to his dorm and before losing your nerve like you always did you knocked three times lightly. You danced on your feet a bit nervously until the door swung open.

"Didn't I fucking say-" He stopped mid-sentence when he saw it was you and you completely froze up. Everything you were going to say just went out the window and now your mind was blank. You couldn't even get out what you wanted to say. 

"I-uh, umm, I just-I don't-Uh." You were stuttering and beginning to panic too. This was not how it was supposed to be. You looked up at the feel of a hand on your head and playing with your hair. You looked at Katsuki who was smiling softly at you. 

"Take your time I'm in no rush." He was being very nice to you and his voice and hand were helping to calm you down. Finally, you were able to formulate words. 

"You're very pretty, um, you're very nice to me too, uh, I was wondering if, I can hold hands? No, uh, yeah I want to hold hands with you, kiss your cheeks, and cuddle. That's what people who want to be more than friends do right?" It was silent and you thought you said the wrong thing until Katsuki pulled you in for a light hug. You were confused but, tried to hug him back even though it felt weird, right? 

"We can do all of that at your pace, yeah?" He meant it! He wanted to do those things with you! He really did! You looked at him giving him a crooked smile. 

"Yeah! Thank you Katsuki." You closed your eyes leaning against him a bit as he guided you inside to talk. Izuku was right.

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What do you guys think?

[taybatwo2]

Vampire Heart Draculaura Review Part 4 of 4

In this final part of my review, I’ll be comparing her a bit more to some other Monster High vampires.

Including my G1 Elissabat (who really needs her hair de-glued) and I’ve had her hair “restyled” like that ever since I got her just because I liked how she wore it up in the flashbacks in “Frights, Camera, Action.” The picture above has mini-dress Draculaura with Elissabat, the true Vampire Queen. Luckily she’s pretty cool with this Draculaura playing dress up, as long as she gets to try on her outfit too.

Also, I had never undressed my Eissabat before and didn’t know these were two separate pieces!

And here is she is!!! I kept her puff purple sleeves to make it fit more with her color scheme. It’s not a bad look at all and I would have loved to have seen a true Vampire Queen Eissabat Collector doll.

Something like this, but even more dramatic. Give her some large vampire wings, layers of bows and bats and deep purples, a better looking tiara to house the vampire’s heart than what she wore in the movie, the works!

I think her boots look better under the dress than Draculaura’s though.

Her purples and large bell skirt gown are also kinda reminding me of this collector Barbie:

The true Vampire Queen….

….and now

Jump scare!

I wanted to compare G2’s hair play Draculaura (my favorite of my G2 Draculaura) due to the light pink steaks in her hair (as I thought it was the same light pink Saran) and her “darker face-up.” Turns out, it is actually a shade darker than Vampire Heart Draculaura’s and her makeup is not as dark as I remembered.

The difference in these dolls are night day, so onto something a bit closer.

Draculaura’s 50 dollar Amazon Exclusive collector doll vs Amazon’s Exclusive Collector 90/100 dollar doll.

I never thought I’d say this, but I actually way prefer the new doll over the old one in every way except for the lack of diary in the current release.

I was actually never a huge fan of the Collector Draculaura’s eyes (they look better far away and look like they were designed by Tim Burton) or her extra long body (I did like the chest articulation though, but thought an ever TALLER Draculaura looked odd), and prefer the new face up and eyelashes on the newer doll.

It does look like they have that same really light pink Saran.

They both have crumby stands that don’t hold the doll very well (at least Collector Draculaura’s is beautifully detailed).

And surprisingly non of these lace/lattice patterns were present on Vampire Heart’s Draculaura’s skirt. The embroidery on Collector Draculaura is still unmatched though, and she’s still an extremely lovely doll.

Buuuuut, she surprisingly has more in common with Haunte Couture Draculaura than Vampire Heart’s and visa versa.

She’s like the in between of Vampire Heart’s and Haunte Couture (similar colors to Vampire Heart’s, buuuut the same layered skirt with bat wing edges, heel/sole to her shoes, and a cape that attaches to her wrists…and I guess hats and rooted eyelashes that Haunt Couture has).

Well, Draculaura likes to reuse and update pieces of her wardrobe from her long life.

“Come play with us Vampire Heart Draculaura.” For fun, I compared OG Draculaura (whose hair has been degreased with LA’s Totally Awesome, but she just needs to be retro-brighted and I haven’t had time to do that).

She has the much skinner eyes of the OG Draculaura than the more “show accurate” Creeproduction Draculaura, but has the darker pink skin tone of the Creeproduction.

Well, I think that’s everyone, let’s get you to the Vampire Heart ball, or whatever ball your vampires are celebrating this week.

Huh. Looks like Valentine has offered to dance with you Draculaura. I wonder if he’s reformed in this timeline too….

Wait, now the famous movie star -and nothing else- Elissabat wants to dance with you instead. I’m sure Lord Stoker will be glad at all the attention you’re receiving….such a graceful model Vampi-

Tripped over Fangelica….it looks like she’s in this timeline too…

Anyways, all bow down to the Vampire Queen, the most beautiful of Monster High’s Skullector’s dolls (to date and my opinion).

….seriously I really want a diary to go with her…stop leaving those out Mattel!!

[steamberrystudio]

19/11/2023

Hey everyone! Time for the bi-weekly tumblr update for Steamberry stuffs!

Summary

Finished writing all routes up through the end of chapter 9

Started working on editing for now

Added in-game achievements

Received some new BG art

Ramble

Okay, so writing-wise, I wrote Yren's content up through the end of chapter 9. Also revamped my end-route summaries for Yren and Raif.

The current word count is 426,000 words.

But I decided to hold off on finishing the endings for the four remaining routes. The main reason for this is that I have planned a lot of early-story changes that are going to shift the trajectory of the route endings. And I was really struggling with how to construct the route endings with those planned changes in a more nebulous state.

I usually try to avoid working out of order because I find it is not conducive to forward progress. But there are some points when you have to break the rules and go back to make important edits because you need them there in order to be able to move forward.

I'm kind of at that point.

So I decided I would fully edit Asher's route, which will allow me to inject all those planned changes into the story which will make it much easier to construct endings that call back to that earlier foreshadowing.

So writing-wise, that's what I've been doing this week. I am currently up to Chapter 6 in the edit (which means I'm a little less than half through the route).

Other Stuff:

I have received new BGs of course. Those are coming in at a fairly steady rate of 1.5 - 2 weeks each.

I also have decided to add in-game achievements to WSC. I've been thinking about it for a while but putting it off since I know that one more screen (like an achievements gallery) means more tweaks to the UI. But I finally sucked it up and did it anyway.

I've also been playing with a colour slider for Wil's sprite. I'm not going to go into detail about it here because I've talked about it more in depth on Patreon and will continue to post most of the details there.

But the idea is that instead of choosing from 3 skin tones and 2 hair colours, there would be colour sliders allowing for a much greater range of selection. One of the big concerns with colour sliders is whether or not the recolours can be made to look as good as recolouring manually - which has always been why I've stayed away from them. 

The more complex shading styles have always struggled with colour sliders. But a developer friend - Feniks - has made a really cool and dynamic shader that actually can recreate even painterly or non-outlined art styles with incredible accuracy.

Using a slider is really useful because it increases the variations the player gets while *reducing* my work load. Instead of having to recolour manually, I would actually only need to colour everything once in grey scale.

Of course, it's not as easy as just dumping in the code and art. It requires some experimentation and learning but right now it is looking like I will be able to make it work. So I may be able to show off some examples in the future.

Screenshots:

None this time...

Upcoming Weeks:

I am currently editing Chapter 6 of asher/common routes and there are some pretty substantial edits I have to make.

It's always tricky to estimate what I will get done editing wise because editing does not flow at a more or less even pace like writing. Chapter 5, 6, and 7 had (and will have) major updates and changes so it may take a while to get through them. Though I'm already through with Ch 5. So...that's one of three.

Anyway.

And I'm also working on the GS lore book, still (LoL. 🙃). Someone today reminded me that I still need to go through all the deleted content to see if anything is salvageable for the lore book too.

😭

Thank you so much to that person (YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE. And you need to answer for your crimes, my friend.) 👀

[adobe-outdesign]

got any thoughts on Tonu?

Tonu are obviously rhinos, though in classic Neopets style they have a mane (seriously, Neopets LOVES manes) and a few large spots on their sides. They sport a singular horn on their nose and standard odd-toed ungulate feet. They're nothing fancy, but they have just enough that they don't feel overly straightfoward to their IRL animal counterpart. Color use is also good, with a light base color for the skin and darker accents on the mane, tail, horn, and toes. No complaints here.

The Tonu definitely benefited from customization, loosing the very strange looking face with its oversized eyes, improper perspective on the left side, and unneeded line under the horn. Stuff like the tail shape and the mane size also improved, and the number of small spots on the side were reduced by one.

Favorite Colours:

8-bit: I went over this in my 8-bit colour review so I'm not going to go into too much depth here, but this is a beautiful color. There's lots of details in the pixels, including multiple layers of shading, and it comes with a very fun rainbow mane and unicorn-esq horn/tail. These elements are wearable as a bonus, so you don't have to keep them if you don't care for them—though personally I like them a lot, and I feel like they keep the colour from being overly bland.

Candy: What can I say? Tonus just do really well with rainbows. The candy Tonu has a subtly swirled pink candy body with these rainbow cotton-candy accents, including a unique shape for the mane and tail. The horn is given stripes to match, and some blue eyes make the whole thing pop. It's tasty, it's pretty, and it's fun—what's not to like?

Wraith: Wraith is one of those colors where how good it looks depends entirely on whatever artist worked on that species. I'm happy to report that the artist who worked on the Tonu did a great job with it. The entire body has a very fluid motion to it, with swirls around the mane and tail, and tings like their knees and nostrils have become stylized shapes. There's a careful balance of positive and negative space, and an appropriately malicious expression. Good stuff.

BONUS: Using a birch tree (and yes it is a birch, though admittedly the leaf shapes are a bit off) for the Tonu because of its white, rough, constantly-peeling bark is a brilliant pick, as it perfectly fits with a rhino's rough skin. The textures are good and wrap around the body correctly, and the leaf mane and tail are integrated with care. (An honorable shoutout goes to magma, which is solid but didn't quite make the cut.)

[saphirered]

Hi! This is my first time requesting so I hope I'm doing this right :) Could I please request a prequel to Helion's newly mated fic? Maybe how Helion and reader (his mate) met and how their bond clicked? Thank you so so much!

Hello deary! Thank you for requesting and sorry this took a hot minute but finally here it is! 😘

Helion is not a jealous fae. Never has been. Never will be. Selfish at times maybe but only when those selfish desires align with the bigger picture. Perhaps it was a burning selfish desire that irked him on when he saw the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in the arms of another. He did not wish to act but could not help but imagine himself in the lucky fae’s spot and an intrusive thought in the back of his head saying perhaps he could be. Perhaps he could be his charming self and you’d wrap him around your finger. Perhaps you’d put him in that spot. Perhaps you’d have him right then and there and he would not utter a single complaint. Instead your lips are interlocked with the individual of your desire like so many others around. Hands trace the path of scantily clad skin and you certainly seem to have no objections. Helion wonders how soft your skin must be, what it must feel like to graze his fingertips along your curves and map out every single detail. That’s all it is; imagination because here he is, unable to takes his eyes off you, unable to feel anything but a brewing resentment for that fae you pay so much careful attention to. 

You’re having a damn good time. A getaway. An escape. Unrestricted liberty. You’re enjoying all you find good in life with good company. From the moment you walked into that party you knew this one would make for easy company and you were right. He’s keen on the eyes but a bit simpleminded. Not that it matters. He’s good with his hands and lips. That’s all you care about right now. A lovely escapade and sating of lewd unashamed desire. The mere thought brings a grin to your face. Your companion’s affections turn from your lips, kissing down your jaw and neck, leaving little bites and sucks and soothing them with kisses and a pass of the tongue until you’re gasping and your lips part. Quite satisfying. You make one mistake though. You open your eyes and meet the most intricate of amber gazes on the other side of the room. Those eyes will be haunting your mind, even when they turn away. 

Those amber eyes ruined your night. What felt good before albeit still perfectly satisfying feels lacking a spark of true fulfilment, of true satisfaction. Even when you run away with your eye candy. Even when that companion delivers on every single expectation and then some, something is amiss because whenever you close your eyes, you feel that gaze meet yours. When you run your fingers through your companion’s hair, your mind wanders to what those black strands must feel like. When you trail your fingers along toned muscle the touch seems cold as if you’d expect to feel the warmth of a midday sun under that skin but it simply isn’t there. Those amber eyes, that black hair and that perfect body have forever ruined you in a single gaze. A single gaze. No matter how many nights follow, how much company you enjoy, it’s always lacking that one final piece you cannot place. Without laying a hand on you, from that distance ever too far he’d taken a part of you without even knowing. You’d not seen him since so not even does he grant you the satisfaction of claiming back what is yours. Not even once do you have the pleasure of charming words and perhaps something more should he be willing to indulge. 

It doesn’t stop you from trying to find completion. A desperate attempt perhaps. You dance and sing and play around with any consenting party. No matter what you do, always that one bastard haunts your mind. Even when your lovers take to the raven hair and golden eyes, they’re never truly the same shades, they never hold the same warmth and radiance. Always there is something amiss. The puzzle pieces don’t fit. It might have been days or weeks before finally he graces you with his presence…

Helion was grateful to be whisked away after that fateful night. Any waking moment, any space of mind he found himself daydreaming about you, the way you looked and moved, those passing seconds where you looked him in the eye, where your bliss changed and your lips parted not from the dedication of your lover but simply by noticing him. Helion might find it a stroke to his ego, to have someone turn starstruck at a mere glance but that was not the case, that was not you. You could not place him. In that gaze, that connection from across the room he felt the rays of the sun within his chest, burning and vibrant. Were you just some object of desire he’d have no trouble to occupy his mind and body otherwise. At first he thought this was simply the case but then the feeling did not subside, did not go away at all. It remained strong no matter the passage of time, the warmth faded and he found himself cold in a way no embrace, no hot bath or piles of blankets could banish. 

In the early hours of morning, when all the creatures of the day found their peace he found none. He found only you. He found your beauty in his mind for it could not be present in reality no matter how much he might desire. And then it hit him; this may not be a simple obsession. A curious theory but a theory still. One he would have to test at that. He’d just have to find you…

Another dusk. Another revel. When night takes over, these people of Day must bring their own radiance until the sun takes over once more, until dawn beckons. Until the reality of life makes them regret their decisions or glimmer at the mere thought of them. These are the revels you had enjoyed quite thoroughly and with little regrets or so Helion found out. He’d find you there. Something within him told him that would be a simple truth as if you had told him yourself. It only went to further prove his theory. That feeling was right. 

You dance among the bodies, spin and twirl, and move so graciously, so beautifully. There’s not a single dance partner, the floor shifts time and time again and when couples meet, the share their time; choose to stay or twirl away be that for a lack of interest or with a seductive glance over the shoulder and the invite for something more intimate. It is easy. It is intriguing. You’ve caught many eyes, invited and been invited, snuck off to one of the countless spaces to enjoy some of that hollow affection and touch of a bed partner. The circle has repeated many times over. It’s no surprise when you think you spot him on the edge of the crowd; that ace, that body. Your mind seems to torture you even at times but you’ve always been mistaken; at second glance the face is never the same as the one you both loath and long to see in this crowd. But then you change partners. You feel within your bones the presence of a thousand suns burning bright, that cold that set within your veins suddenly banished and overtaken by the glow of day so bright and raw, yet so inviting and intriguing. 

Helion didn’t know it’d be this bad. He didn’t know that distant hollow, that missing piece could so easily be filled by your sheer presence. He didn’t know he could lack the impulse control when he felt his feet moving and join the dancers. He didn’t know how right of a decision it was until his hand locked with yours only to be parted again at the beat of the music, like steel right from the forge, leaving not but burning. He saw the look in your eyes, those gorgeous eyes that could drown him like the dark depths of the seas; simply mesmerising. He’s at loss for words. He didn’t think beyond this point. He did not think at all if he’s honest but here he is and there you are. You step in again, place that hand in his and spin. The world is but background noise to your presence. The two of you might as well have been the only one’s in the room. An intrusive thought in the back of his mind tells him you could be. He’s the high lord after all. He won’t. He fears his voice might break should he try to speak. He fears he might not get the words out. Thank the Mother you are just as conflicted as he is. Thank the Cauldron both of you are as graceful as you are to not miss a beat. 

“Why have you been haunting me?” You couldn’t stop yourself from uttering the words. Your thoughts spoken out loud like so. You did not intend to do so but something about his presence, it compelled that thought from your lips and you are left feeling a fool. Why is it this amber eyed devil haunts you day and night? You do want answers because if your suspicions are right, and with every passing second they seem to be, then you need to know it to be true. Only he cans et you free. Only he can confirm the suspicions you’ve been trying to deny. 

“Some people start with a simple hello. An introduction maybe.” Helion is glad to find his wit has not failed him. You certainly did not see that reply coming given your soft chuckle, oh how it rushes through his very soul like the winds at the tallest peaks of the palace; a sweet and gentle comfort. 

“I know who you are.” Now that makes him both feel two things. Pride for his reputation precedes him and fear for what you might think of him. Even if another voice in the back of his head tells him not to worry, banishes that insecurity instantly. 

“Then you have caught me at a disadvantage.” You step in close, so close, as do many of the others not nearly ready to for the dance to end, for the partners to switch. You’re but a hair’s breath from him and you feel that touch, that longing finally satisfied as if the world is right once more. What a curse. What a blessing. You just wait for him to disappear into the crowd of people, to not see him again for weeks. Helion. You should call him by the name you know him to carry. You’d refused to name the radiant fae in the hopes the memory would not linger but failed. There’s no escape. But then when he time to switch comes, you feel his hand on the small of your back and you twist a half step out of the way where the two dancers behind you meet instead and you remain with him. You suck in a breath when that touch disappears. You don’t want it to go. 

“You have haunted me for weeks.” Something within your gaze sparks. That spark turns to flame when your palm dances across his cheek. “Excuse me if I make you earn my name.” You have no doubt he has the resources to find out, or already has but you take great satisfaction in the way his jaw slacks and his lips part. You nearly shudder when you feel that breath against the skin of your wrist ever so lightly, and even more so when he cups your hand and brings your palm to his lips, placing a gentle kiss against it. 

“Then I will do whatever it takes to earn your name. I would much desire to use it should you allow me.” The implication is enough to make you melt and you’re surprised how well composed you remain, despite the blood rushing to your head, and the urge to tremble at sheer excitement. It’s an invitation and that’s when you decide this payback is mutually beneficial. When the next switch comes along you’ve guided him away from the dancers. You offer him your hand.

Helion’s head pounds in his ears. He was right. So right. You are the one. He’s truly met his match. You are beyond what he expected. Perhaps he should fear for himself given that look in your eyes that is not but mischief and sweet sweet justice. Then again, he won’t complain. If anything he will take great pleasure in earning the right of your name and once he has, once he’s had you moaning his, he will make sure to use yours like a prayer for you are truly divine and he will worship you to the end of his days if that’s what it takes. He’ll take great pleasure in doing so. He places his hand in yours and like a siren’s call you lead him to his doom, his doom and salvation.

[willshipanything-blog]

Breaking the Rules- Chapter 21

Penultimate chapter!! (Besides a couple little epilogue things I have planned). Al has just revealed his plan to confess his crimes- how will y/n ever stop this mad scheme?

Full tags, as well as the fic if you prefer, is on AO3 here. As usual, minors please DNI!

Full Tumblr chapter index can be found here.

Hope you enjoy lovelies! 💜✌️✨

Chapter 21- The Depths

“Take that mask off.” 

The fire in your voice was low and rumbling, a biting warning that you hardly thought yourself capable of. Your initial reaction at his affixing the mask had been terror, but a scorching fury had lit inside you at the audacity of Al to try this, after all this time. You’d had enough of this. 

Of Al attempting this confession, of him even thinking about throwing everything -throwing you- away after all this time. The warning had little effect and Al, wearing the familiar horns and expressionless face, came closer. 

“I’m serious, Al. Take. It. Off.” 

Another step towards you.

Al remained undeterred, his eerie silence reminiscent of nights spent watching silently as you cried yourself to sleep on the mattress. If he was trying to evoke those memories, it was working. Cruel bastard. You slammed your good hand on the table, but as you used the force as leverage to stand, an agony speared through your arm. Al had reached you, had gripped your hand before you could stand. The tight grip had provoked the still-tender muscles in your dislocated finger and you jolted, an electric current tearing through your bloodstream. A sibilant hiss escaped through your teeth at the pain, which had forced you back onto the chair.

“I’ve got to finish this, Y/N. To pay for my crimes.” 

“That wasn’t you. It was-”

“The Grabber?” he asked, a theatrical air of incredulity heavy in his voice. “Not Albert Shaw? They’re one and the same, sweet. You need to stop pretending those are two different people,” he leaned closer, “It’s all me.”

No. You’d seen the change, that almost physical manifestation of the otherness that enveloped Al like a black shroud of fog in the past. In the past, though. He might be using the same mannerisms and voice, but this was all an act. The mask wasn’t some summoning device; it didn’t automatically call on the Grabber to appear like an evocation of some paranormal being. 

“It’s NOT you, Al,” you hoped the repetition of his name might break the mad spell he was trying to hold himself in, the lie he was telling himself to make all of this seem justified. Did it make it easier to betray you like this if he played such a role? 

“Stop kidding yourself. Look who I am-” here, Al nudged open the wooden box with a knuckle, plucking out an item at random (the blue choker necklace) and shaking it wildly in front of you. “Look at what I’ve done! You want me to tell you how I killed each of them? Why not read that note again, huh? Or I could tell you all the details I didn’t put in that confession.”

You’d already looked away by this point, eyes scrunched closed and head shaking, trying to refute Al’s words by purposefully ignoring them. But you knew them to be at least somewhat true- your shameful averting gaze was in part because you had no retort, no justifiable defense for what he was saying. You felt the tears start at the outer corners of your eyes, tumbling down your cheeks before a much rougher sensation met your skin. 

“Look at me!” Al roared, gripping your face between his thumb and forefinger, the course fingertips digging into your cheeks as he forced you to face him. Your eyes stayed closed. His voice again, softer but infinitely more lethal, spoke:

“Look at me, little bird.”

You opened your lids slowly, discerning those still-blue eyes behind the mask. Heavenly, you might have thought that shade, had they not been sitting beneath literal devil horns. Deep blue, with no trace of that hunger or feral rage that signified the Grabber. Al was angry, perhaps at what he thought to be a hopeless situation, but those emotions were Al’s alone. Not the Grabber’s- no matter how much Al pretended to still house that monster within him. 

“Please take off the mask, Al.” It was more desperate and pleading now, spoken through hiccuped breaths, your tears still tracing downward paths down your face. You knew Al’s hardened resolve had already set like cement; unyielding. He didn’t answer you as he released your face from his grasp, finally letting go of your injured hand too. 

You shook the pain away from your hand, looking up at Al, who stood silently over you. He sighed heavily and rolled his shoulders, as if sloughing off the last remnants of himself. His eyes closed behind the mask, and as he opened them, he spoke. The voice was barely an imitation anymore, any attempts at theatricality and grandeur erased by the hoarseness, that clear distress of his words. 

“You gonna be my good girl one last time?”

You had no time to react before he pounced. 

Quick hands had grabbed and lifted you from your seat before implausibly strong arms wrapped around your body. You’d been so numbed, paralyzed by his cutting words about that fragile dichotomy between Al and the Grabber, that his sudden lunge towards you had blindsided you. 

“Let me GO!” You roared, your legs kicking wildly in front of you, your arms squashed too tightly under his grip to help you wriggle free.

“I- am letting- you go,” Al huffed from behind the mask, his winded breath the only sign of a struggle; his strength seemingly carrying you with ease across the kitchen, towards the wooden door waiting for you in the corner of the room. Once there, his arm had to reach out to twist the doorknob, yet with just one arm around your torso you were hopelessly outmatched. You pried an arm free, desperately clawing behind you, as if the possibility of ripping off that demonic mask might snap Al out of this madness. Your frantic mauling only served to bend your injured finger out of place once more, tearing a howl from you. With the wooden door open, Al’s free hand moved to muffle your groans. 

All too much. The pain shooting through your arm, the tight grip around your body, the suffocating hand stifling your shouts, the dizzying ordeal of being carried back towards that prison you’d spent too long in. And the worst part of all of it: that Al had planned this, wanted- thought he needed this to happen.

It wasn’t the sick perversion of actually wanting a victim in the basement, carrying down your unconscious body like he had done nearly a year ago. It wasn’t the heated passion like he’d shown just a couple of nights ago, where he’d nearly dragged you down those stairs in a sudden burst of fury. This was an entirely different purpose. A kindness, in Al’s eyes- to keep you there one last time, to present you as the Grabber’s unwilling cohabitant. A short stint in those depths, to save you from a lifetime of being with him. 

You felt your body still, felt the damp air, and realization hit. The realization that Al had already kicked open the metal door at the bottom of the stairwell. The realization that you were already in the basement. The physical pain of your injury, along with the growing hopelessness of the situation, meant that you’d not fought hard enough to stop this insanity. Another sickly sensation as you felt your body teetering, discerning that Al was leaning forward, dropping you to the floor, his weight on your back pinning you to the cold stone. Hands retracted, but the weight holding you to the floor only allowed a thin rasp of a breath to plead with Al. You’d always used your words before, unable to match the bestial strength on full display now, so you choked out your plea.

“Al, don’t. Please-”

“Enough.” 

The coldness of that voice from behind was a steel blade in your back. He wrestled your hands behind you, though the pain of your twisted finger paled in comparison to the agonizing realization of what was happening. With both your wrists clasped in one of Al’s, you heard a fumbling and then a staccato rip of duct tape. The noise was enough to spur your body into a fresh convulsion beneath Al. The sudden struggle seemed to catch him off-guard, and he had to pacify you with a forceful grip on the nape of your neck, pushing your cheek into the cold floor. Still reeling, your ragged breaths unable to scream but your last bit of strength still pushing against him, and Al loosened his grip on your neck, only to push down even harder a second later. Your head collided with the floor, a dull thunk followed by a high-pitched buzzing in your ears. It was just hard enough to daze you, and when the buzzsaw in your brain came to a halt, Al had already tied your hands behind your back. 

A more intimate sensation now, as Al held your bounds hands lightly. If it seemed a kind gesture, that fallacy was erased a moment later as he pulled at the ring on your finger. His ring, the gold band he’d given as a promise, was pried from you. Your finger felt suddenly cold, exposed. He’d gifted you the ring as a promise to keep you safe. But what good was that when Al saw himself as the danger? What good was any of it when you were drawn to that danger like a moth to a lethal flame? 

“No more of my broken promises.” In saying that, Al couldn’t see the cruel contradiction that leaving you would be the biggest betrayal of all. Still, if he cared about promises at all, didn’t that show that he was still Al beneath that mask? Maybe there was time to stop this ill-conceived scheme. 

Your body jolted again, this time with a pressure on your arms as Al grabbed them, heaving you across the room. Your bare legs scraped against the grimy floor as you were jostled before Al tossed you onto the mattress a few feet from the floor where he’d wrestled you. The familiar feeling of the damp, worn bed as Al threw you down was a sickening déjà vu. Instinct had you scrabbling back towards the wall, feet slipping on the dirty fabric until your head and hands hit stone behind you. A scene you’d seen dozens of times lay before you- Al standing there, fully masked, looking down at your weak, helpless body on the mattress. Somehow, knowing Al’s intention to give himself in, knowing you’d soon be without him, made this more terrifying than any of the earlier encounters. With the spool of tape still in one hand, Al retrieved something from his back pocket with his other, pulling out his small switchblade. Your pleas, desperate wriggling and heavy tears weren’t enough to stop his advance, and he strode over the mattress, dropping down with his knees astride your thighs, eye level with you. 

“He’s not there, Al. You’re just pretending. Don’t act like the monster we both know is dead.” you croaked.

Blue eyes in the mask’s shadow looked back at you silently. The slight tilt of Al’s head had you wondering whether Al was still embodying those impish mannerisms, or whether he was really considering your statement. 

“It’s who I need to be right now, dove.” His admittance that it was an act was little comfort when his refusal to give up that role was so evident, and you crumpled as he said those words. Perhaps he wanted to console you with a soft touch, but his resolve won out, and he got to work quickly as you cried to an unresponsive audience of one. 

Some of the work was already complete: your bruises from Naughty Girl, taken willingly, would tell a different tale than your twisted game. The handprints still red and visible on your buttocks would be unexplainable as anything other than abuse to those outside of this room. The dirt and grime from your writhing on the basement floor was an extra little touch, more evidence of mistreatment. But Al had other lies to tell, and worked quickly to write the false tale. Your shirt first, Al tearing it at the collar, creating rips with his small blade. When he was done, there was more skin exposed than covered by the remnants of the cotton material. Your underwear next, which he whipped down your legs, discarding to the side. That image would leave no doubt for whoever found you, deducing what vile acts the Grabber inflicted upon you in this room. Hell, you even had his seed inside you from this morning. Who would believe that such an act was consensual, given the state of you now? 

He seemed to think twice about his next move, before slow hands approached with the switchblade. You held your breath as Al drew near, the indecisive knife hovering over your neck, then chest, before Al chose the spots carefully. A couple of skillful nicks on your upper arms and thighs shocked more than hurt, the shallow cuts bursting with small patches of fresh red on your skin. A few fresher wounds that the Grabber had inflicted, giving more credulity to the fabrication that you were still a captive. The cuts barely even hurt. Not compared to everything else.

“Go deeper,” you sobbed as Al made a small incision above your knee, stopping when he heard your words. “If you’re really doing this, I’d rather be dead. Cut deeper.”

“No more killing,” Al said, folding down his knife and retreating it back to his pocket. “You’ll appreciate this one day, dove. You’ll see it was the one good thing I ever did to you.” 

No retort you might muster would be enough to sway him, your mind too jumbled and shocked to form any sort of coherent argument. Your stomach lurched at the inescapable truth; that Al’s confession was coming to fruition, that he was about to lock you down here, and end it all. 

“Shit-” Al had risen, looking towards the metal door before turning to you again. “Sorry dove- I broke the door lock. Can’t have you going anywhere until they find you.” In an instant he was on you, another stretch of duct tape unwinding with a cracking rip before he quickly wound a length of it tightly around your ankles. 

“Al!” you pleaded as he secured your legs, running out of energy, out of ideas. “I won’t be able to stand it, seeing you go to jail. Everything that will follow-”

“You might not see me do any of that,” he explained as you gave a pained, confused look, “If I put up enough of a fight, if I’m a big enough threat, they might just shoot on sight.”

That dizziness returned without a fresh bump to your head, the idea of not just being away from Al, but him not existing at all…. It felt like you had no more cards to play. What else was there to say to persuade him apart from your true feelings?

“Al, don’t do this. I love-” a swift shadow lunged at you. Al’s hands moved to silence the tail end of your admission, one over your mouth and the other cupping the back of your head. He knew the pain of those words, what pain it would cause for him to hear those three words on your lips one final time. 

“NO!” he cried, bringing the masked face close to your own. “You think you love me. After this, you’ll realize you hated me all this time. Then you’ll forget me, and that will be the happy ending you deserve. You don’t need me for your happy ending.” You stilled beneath him, even as the tears dripped over his fingers that covered your mouth. It really was over. 

Through your tear-soaked lashes, you looked up at Al and nodded, showing him you were pacified, and he moved his hand in understanding. 

“If you’re going to say goodbye, do it as Al. Don’t let my last memory of you be of this- this thing that I don’t see you as.”

Al tore the mask away from his face, obeying your final request. His eyes matched yours in their tearful state. 

“Thank you, dove. For not seeing me as the monster.” And then he rushed at you. His lips crashed against yours, harsh and desperate and so full of love and loss. You returned the kiss, straining against your bonds to try and hold him there forever if it meant never leaving. But after a moment, he tore himself away and you released a keening wail. A quick rip of tape and Al covered your mouth, muffling your cries beneath the gag.

He kissed your temple before rising, walking briskly towards the door as if scared he might change his mind about the whole confession. You moaned desperately through the tape as he retreated. One last, lingering look and a final goodbye. 

“I’m sorry, dove. I love you.” 

And with that, the metal door closed. 

If the closing of that metal door felt like a death sentence, it was the least he deserved, Al thought as it shut with a dull clang. But she deserved so much more, so much better. Even from behind the door, he heard the muffled screams of his love. It broke him to know how much she was suffering, even if she’d been through worse at his hands in the past. But the quicker he worked, the sooner she’d be free from her restraints and from the basement. From him, too. 

He strode briskly through the house to the bedroom first. The first scene to set up. From the bedside drawer, he pulled out the handcuffs he’d been chained in just yesterday. One bracelet he looped through a headboard slat, the other left open on the rumpled sheets. The very picture of an unwilling bed partner. From the box in the closet he pulled out a few more things he scattered on the bed; some lengths of rope and some toys they’d played with during the game. Along with some risque underwear he’d bought her as a suggestive gift (also thrown on the bed), it painted a sordid, disgusting picture of the things he’d subjected this innocent girl to over months and months of captivity. Al could already picture the scandalous headlines he’d probably never live to read. 

In the kitchen, Al placed the duct tape and knife from his pockets on the table with the mask he’d thrown on there minutes earlier. The confession, the wooden box and the alternate faces of the mask still sat, waiting to become evidence once Al finally did what was needed. He removed the pink-jeweled ring from his pinky finger- her ring, which he’d taken early in her captivity. First, as a cruel taunt that no one was coming to save her. Then later, as a promise that he’d be the savior she needed. What a hollow promise that turned out to be. Al put the pink morganite ring in the box with the other trophies, the silver band hitting the base of the box with a sad clatter. He put his own gold band inside too, not wanting to mar the ring his little bird had worn for so many months. That ring was an empty promise too, a past relic now. Al didn’t deserve to wear such a thing. It joined the other ring before Al closed the box. 

He collected the photographs of him and his dove from the kitchen fridge and the frames in the living room- a few snapshots that he’d need to dispose of. Over the sink, he held a match to the small polaroid of her and him in an intimate, comfortable lover’s embrace, watching the edges blacken and disintegrate. Wisps of the photo fell into the sink, followed by tears as he watched it burn slowly. 

As the orange flame began to eat away at his image on the polaroid film, Al thought about what was coming, and how he deserved every punishment. But to have gotten her so deep in this web, to give her hope of a future after he took her old life away, only to throw her back into the unknown, was just as callous an act as kidnapping her the first day he set eyes on her. Still, he hoped that one day, she would move on. She might mourn him a little, but in the end they’d be wasted tears. 

The fire had all but erased Al in the image, moving to devour his dove next. It was his greatest magic trick he’d ever performed, Al thought. Though truly, more hypnosis than real magic. What was more incredible- that she’d fallen for him in the first place, or that he was pathetic enough to believe it could last?

The last scraps had burned out, and he scrubbed the sink of any sooty remains to finish his task. Al went to the white phone in the living room, picking it up and carrying it with him to his armchair, the corded wire taut, but just long enough for him to use the phone from his chair. One hand lifted the receiver to his ear, whilst the other hand reached towards the rotary dial.

[honeyynymphh]

I had a thought for a fic and bc I love ur writing…

copia x mile high club

first of all, thank you so much!! mile high club certainly is not something I would have ever thought of but it did give me an idea so here it is! Inflight Meal Papa IV x FemReader rating: E words: 2600 tags: dom copia, cunnilingus, sex, fucking on the job, drinking on the job, dirty talk, cheesy af, there is no resemblence to canon like anywhere in this story lmao AO3

summary: as an air hostess you are used to strange people, especially when they have their own private jet. but this was definitely the strangest one.

also Copia still has his moustache because I said so! I know nothing about flying, this is pretty silly and it is not checked so sorry for any mistakes!

Straightening your skirt you stand waiting for the passengers to board the plane. Last minute you’d been called in to help on an overnight flight to Italy by Jack—the usual pilot you flew with. Apparently, some priest was travelling back to his hometown for an important ceremony and his crew were short a few staff members. You would have refused at such a late request, especially as you had to wear a completely different uniform. It wasn’t the airlines—apparently the priest had insisted all the crew fit in with the rest of his staff.

What an arrogant prick. 

But the money had been way above the norm and you rarely were asked to do private flights. And the uniform was not much different than your usual skirt and jacket. Except it was cerulean blue with little embroidered golden details—and a strange inverted crucifix emblazoned on the chest. You were just grateful it wasn’t a nun's habit.

You heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs to board and straightened your back, plastering on the practised smile. Many a jerk you’ve had to deal with and today would be no different—no matter how fancy an aircraft it was. You’d had a little snoop before. The whole aircraft was dark wood and detailed with the same shade of blue and gold. The jet was fitted with a main bedroom, kitchen, office and then the main seating area. God must be real generous, you think with a roll of your eyes.

The first person aboard is an older woman, her blonde hair styled to perfection and wearing a severe yet fitting suit jacket and skirt—all in black but detailed with the same hints of blue and gold as your uniform. She smiles at you and you gesture for her to enter, giving her a welcoming smile as you bid good evening. Next is a man…at least you think it’s a man. The smile on your face falters a moment before you right it again on your perfectly painted lips.

His dress is fine. He’s dressed all in black—though his jacket has the same little crucifix on it as yours—it’s the mask he wears that throws you. It’s silver, demonic and completely obscures his face.

Weird. But you were here to serve drinks and food, not care about the passengers and their odd choice of attire. The…man walks past you without a glance and settles into a chair before pulling out a rolled-up magazine from his trouser pocket.

You’re too busy still looking at him when a voice says, “Buonasera, Signorina.”

When you turn towards it, you’re met with a pair of mismatched eyes set in a face painted like a skull. But despite it, it’s still an attractive one and the man’s voice is pleasant—the Italian lilt to his words makes your smile genuine, if not a little bemused. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, way too tightly fitting that it’s almost indecent.

He takes your hand, the soft leather that encases his hand is buttery soft and warm. He kisses your hand, moustache tickling your skin. He introduces himself as Papa Emeritus the Fourth before he gives you a smile and heads into the plane. You watch, bemused, as he greets the other two—the woman talking quickly and hovering around him like a mother hen. He waves her off with some words in Italian and disappears down to the back of the plane.

That cannot be a priest, you think. Maybe Jack got the information wrong. He looks too…you don’t even know. You rub at your hand. At least he didn’t seem like a complete asshole, nor had he started preaching—and really, that was all you cared about. You kept staring off down towards the back of the plane, mind still fixated on the mysterious man.

“You ready?” says Jack, ducking out of the cockpit.

“Huh?” you say distractedly, head snapping to look at the pilot. 

Another crew member has appeared, she’s wearing the same uniform as you and she’s standing there patiently waiting for you. You had only briefly spoken to her earlier, she had said her name was Sister Hayley you think. A nun. Not that the woman looked anything like a nun.

“Arm and crosscheck?” he says.

“Oh, yes, right.”

When miles above ground and flying somewhere over the Atlantic ocean you’re giving out drinks. The man in the silver mask declines anything, choosing instead to lounge on the plush seating like an overgrown cat while the woman—who had politely introduced herself as Sister Imperator—sat in one of the comfortable chairs at a small desk. You’d given her a drink—a gin and tonic—and then headed down to go find the enigmatic Papa Emeritus.

The office is empty and so you head to the bedroom, the door is closed and you knock politely before sliding it open. You find the man propped up on the bed, book in hand and a pair of glasses perched low on his long nose. He glances up at you and the darkly painted lips quirk into a pleased smile. It makes your stomach flip.

“Sir, would you like a drink?” you ask, standing there with your hands clasped in front of you. “Or something to eat?”

The man gives you a smile, easy and smug. Again you wonder why he was wearing such tight trousers. What the hell kind of church was he from?

“Si, wine, per favore. Anything from the stock in the kitchens. Pick something.” He gives you a long look. “Two glasses.”

“No problem, sir, anything to eat?” you ask. Fuck you wish he’d stop looking at you like that.

His painted lips quirk but he shakes his head. “Just bring the wine, signorina.”

You head to the little kitchen and randomly grab a bottle, simply picking one based on the label. You grab two glasses and then walk back towards the suite. You smile politely as you enter and place the glasses on the little table next to him.

“Is this to your liking, sir?” you ask, holding out the bottle for him to inspect. 

“Papa,” he says, leaning over to peer at the label before he nods. “Not ‘sir’.”

You pour him a glass and place the bottle beside it. “Is there anything else?”

He closes the book he is reading a throws it on the bed, you catch the cover—it’s in a different language but it has a picture of a goat and a pentagram on it. He waves a hand at the other glass.

“Pour yourself one as well, signorina.”

You frown at him. “That is kind of you, but I am working.”

The man winks at you, grabbing the bottle himself and pouring out a measured amount. You watch the liquid slosh in the glass.

“I promise I won’t tell,” he says, extending it out to you.

You take it and hold it awkwardly, the smile on your face fixed. You did not want to get in trouble with Jack and lose your job. But a glass couldn’t help and you’d attended to everyone. You sip it and Papa smiles.

Somehow you end up two glasses deep. It’s not enough to make you drunk but damn it’s enough to make you feel far too relaxed. And you’ve somehow found yourself sitting next to him on the bed. You really should go back though. But it’s been lovely chatting to him, he talks of his flock with affection and mentions Sister Imperator fondly.

“This might be a stupid question,” you ask, the wine having loosened your tongue, “but what exactly are you a priest of?”

He laughs and it’s such a pleasant sound that you can’t help but smile. You’ve grown used to his strange face and it’s somewhat endearing to watch the lines on his face move as he chuckles.

“Not a priest, dolce,” he says. “Once upon a time, si, but now I am Papa.”

“You say that like I should know what you mean,” you reply.

“Like the Pope.” He grins. “Less preaching about the good of man and much more sinning.”

You cannot help but laugh, it sounds ridiculous. “I thought god said sinning was bad.”

“We do not worship a false god of fabricated mercy,” he utters, voice low. You stop laughing at the serious expression on his face, but it melts away when he adds. “We worship the lord below who relishes in sin. We are human, si? So we should take comfort in the pleasures it provides.”

“You’re telling me you worship the devil?” you ask, breath hitching when he leans in a little closer.

“Si,” he says, eyes fixed on you. “And I fear I have not worshipped in his name today at all. Perhaps you can help me, dolce?”

Suddenly his mouth is on yours. You freeze a movement but when you respond, his hands hold your face and pull him flush against him. His mouth is urgent and hot against yours, tongue delving into your mouth while your legs tangle together. Your lipstick is smudged red over his face and you’re certain he’s covered yours in black—you can taste it on your own lips but it doesn’t matter. He kisses like he is worshipping, hungry and possessive. It makes your head spin and you completely forget that this is certainly a breach of conduct. Especially when he’s flipping you onto your back, dragging your legs to the edge of the bed as he pushes your skirt up to bunch around your waist/

“Sorry, dolce, but now I’m feeling rather hungry.”

You hear the snap of your garter belt and feel the tension ease around your stockings so he can pull your knickers down your legs. Before you can draw another breath his face is between your legs, his breath skating over your wet folds before his tongue is flicking against you. You moan, hands instantly grabbing tufts of his peppered hair between your fingers as he works some sort of ungodly magic on your aching cunt.

Fucking hell.

Your back arches as he draws the tension out, leaving you panting on the edge of delirium. His arms move under your thighs and pull you closer to him as he devours you. You pull at his hair and grind against his face, unable to stop yourself from seeking more glorious threads of pleasure to wind tighter around your core.

His mouth breaks away as he can come up for air. You stare at him with a heavy-lidded expression, taking in that wicked mouth all glistening and smeared with paint by your own slick. He looked like the fucking devil and you were more than willing to sell your soul if it meant he wouldn’t stop.

“Cazzo, your pussy is delicious, dolce,” he breathes, nipping at the inside of your thigh.

His face returns to press against your cunt. And that nose! It’s pressed against your clit, mouth wet and tongue searching while his moustache tickles your skin. You arch back and your hands grip the sheets as the plane suddenly rocks—turbulence. Fuck.

Jack’s voice floats through the plane’s intercom system, certainly a mood killer, but Papa doesn’t stop. 

“Please return to your seat, we are experiencing some mild turbulence.”

The craft rocks again but your eyes are too busy rolling into the back of your head as he eats you out like he’s on death row and you're his last meal.

You moan when you feel fingers, leather-clad ones, pressing into your pussy and stretching you. You bounce on his hand when you hit another pocket of turbulence, and his grip on your thigh tightens while the other hand is busy pumping into your wetness. Another pocket and another moan have you on the edge and trembling.

It doesn’t take much to have you rocking along with the aircraft as you come. You try not to moan too loudly and shove your fist in your mouth but Papa leans up and pulls your arm away from your face, that devilish visage hovering over you.

“Don’t silence such pretty sounds, dolce.”

You sigh, luxuriating in the waves that still ripple through you while the plane rocks again. Fuck. You feel his body move away from yours and you sigh. Your eyes had fallen closed as you relaxed but they snap open when you feel him crawl on top of you. He’s rid himself of some of his clothes—well, most of them. A heavily unbuttoned shirt was the only thing on him. You can see the hairs on his firm chest and when you feel his cock pressing between your legs you immediately spread them for him.

When he sinks into your welcoming pussy you moan. The stretch feels incredible and you desperately tilt your hips so he can sink in further. When he bottoms out, you both sigh. Papa has removed his gloves, and his large hands hold your hips, creasing the fabric of your uniform even further as he starts to pump into you.

You’re already so worked up and sensitive that you are already ready to come again quickly. Your walls are squeezing him and the sounds it draws from his lips are downright demonic. Your hands reach up to grip his shoulders so you can thrust up to meet him, both of your movements becoming hurried in your desperation for release.

“Do you want my cock so badly, signorina?” he growls, leaning over you and thrusting into you roughly. Your pant out a yes, or something that was meant to be a yes and only comes out as a string of incoherent nonsense as you nod your head fervently. “You have to come for me first, dolce.”

A hand moves between your bodies and he's rubbing at your swollen and sensitive clit. You cry out, not giving a single fuck that the entire plane can probably hear you. The plane rocks one last time and you hear the seatbelt sign turn off. But you are barely paying any attention to anything else except his cock buried inside you.

The tension in your core tightens again and with another deep thrust he has you coming apart for him. Your eyes shut as it crashes through you but he doesn’t stop. Your hands are gripping feebly at his shoulders, then the nape of his neck, his hair and then fistfuls of the front of his shirt to bring his mouth against yours.

You feel his cock swell within you as he growls against your mouth, teeth nipping at your bottom lips as his hips jerk. You feel him come, painting the inside of your cunt as he continues to thrust into you while his tongue does the same to your mouth. It’s desperate and you’re sweating in your uniform but you don’t care. It feels far too fucking good.

When the high finally eases and he rolls off you to lie beside you, you sigh in relief. Fuck that was something, you think.

“You call that worship?” you pant, turning your head lazily to look at him Your makeup and hair must be absolutely ruined because his is completely ruined. He looks deranged with his hair falling in his face and his paint all smeared.

He hums. “Si. My lord believes in the power of the female orgasm. Is there anything more divine than pleasure?”

You shake your head, mind still foggy with bliss. You utter the only words you can think of. 

“Did you still want your inflight meal?”

He grins at you. “Maybe in an hour or so, signorina. I just ate.”