#i so rarely allow myself to like my own work that it always takes me by surprise when i do

[blackkatmagic]

There's something so wonderful about being in love with your own story. You don't have to love the writing, the wording, the structure specifically, and you can find flaws in whatever way you want, but loving the concept, loving the fact that you're writing it and it exists in the world and you're just having fun with the process of creation - it's so delightfully freeing.

[lavender---sunshine]

i am so deep in my feelings right now, i both sad and mad enough that i cannot sleep

[yanderestarangel]

HEADKANONS BI HAN | SUB ZERO MK1 WITH S/O

A/N: I'm going to write headcanons about all the men in MK, I'm going to write one shots, fanfic, I'm going crazy and more horny for each one of them... I'm gay as f*ck. Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post.

TW: sfw, headcanons in general, afab reader, smut.

He is an aggressive lover. I mean, he's not going to hit you or anything, but he's extremely cold (I laughed after remembering that he's fucking sub zero lol), he's the type to talk the basics, even to you, so don't do it "silly" questions for him, if he's okay or if he ate, he'll answer: "-I'm here in front of you so obviously I'm fine." "-Don't worry, I know how to take care of myself, I'm not a child."

He likes to show his love for you through actions, like buying you something you've been wanting for a while, like giving you a bouquet of flowers, small but meaningful, Bi-Han doesn't know how to express love for anyone, I'm sorry, But it's the truth, but he tries for you, even if it's not the best.

Bi-Han cares about you even if he doesn't express it, he knows that he is a frustrated and wrong man in several actions, even if he wants to lie to himself that he doesn't, you both know that, but if you haven't given up on him, and You're still on his side, it means you love him, and he values that.

Bi Han won't let you work outside of his sight, that is, he will want you at home, you can beg or try to argue, he will say: "-Your job is to be my husband/wife, take care of our house, me and yourself, I can't allow you to go around." -He spoke calmly, but seriously, and that was really his thought, he just wants you to be close to him, he is afraid, terrified, of losing you one day. -

Bi Han is insecure, even if he never admits it, he gets jealous very quickly, he knows that you are a beautiful person, so he knows that many ninjas lust after you, even though you are married to him, so please don't flirt with other men or women, this man is capable of crazy things and the silent treatment he will give you after that will be for an indefinite period of time.

You are always on his mind in every mission, Kuai Liang and Tomas sometimes notice their grandmaster looking into space and perhaps, a transparent smile appears quickly, while Bi-Han looks at the landscape on the horizon, thinking about you. "-I hope (Y/N) is okay" -He said to himself, shaking his head soon after and returning to the mission.

When he notices that you are sad he becomes worried, but he just crosses his arms under his chest, and looks at you waiting for an explanation for such behavior, if you are upset about something that someone from the Lin Kuei clan did to you, consider that person dead, your grand master husband will immediately leave the house forming a deadly ice dagger in his hand, returning some time later, with a determined and blood-stained look. "-Okay, wipe your tears, the problem has already been solved, let's have dinner." -He spoke seriously and calmly, as he wiped the blood from his hands on a cloth, heading to the kitchen with heavy steps and giving you a look, so you could follow him.

Bi-Han lies down on the bed next to you, but he can't sleep for several nights, he finds himself watching you, your face so peaceful next to him, the ninja monster of the lin kuei, you look so good and comfortable next to him, he really wonders why you married him, you deserve someone better.

He covers you more with the sheet, caressing your cheek lightly with his thumb, while whispering on rare occasions, that he loved you.

"-I really love you, you know that? I'm sorry I'm not the best man for you (Y/N), I really want you forever by my side, and I'll protect you from this world, whatever the cost, what do I do and for me and for you." -Bi Han told you while you slept, he placed a chaste kiss on your forehead, while looking at the moon soon after, it would be another night that he would be haunted by his own demons.

Bi-Han's favorite couple's activity with you is strolling to a lake on the Lin Kuei clan's estate, sitting with you on the cool grass as the two of you watch nature, the swans on the lake, the cloudy sky announcing an upcoming rain. would soon come, the trees swaying to the rhythm of the wind, as Bi Han talked about his mother, he really loved her, and he is happy to see that you were really interested in listening, as he talked about childhood memories, making little sculptures of ice with his fingertips to represent the story he told, it's these moments with you that make everything he did, even the cruelest things, worth it.

He may not be loyal to the clan, but he is to you. He's the type that if someone comes at him, he has to be held back so he doesn't punch them for such audacity. Ex:

"-Bi Han, are you going to come with us-"

"-I'm a married man"

"-Bi Han, we just asked-"

"-I'm a married man, I told you." -He says pointing to the wedding ring and leaving. They were just going to ask him to drink a little, but as Bi Han said, he is a married man to you.

He doesn't like nicknames, only during sex, other than that he will call you by your name, or "my husband/my wife", he likes the idea of being called "husband" by you too, so if you If you refer to him like that, in public, he will melt inside, and smile slightly sideways behind the mask.

He is a wild man in bed, taking out his frustrations and anger on your beautiful pussy, mouth and body in general.

Bi Han loves blowjobs, if he could, you would be kneeling between his legs 24 hours a day, with your pretty face taking his entire cock in your mouth - I feel sorry for you dear, this man's cock is big and thick, he's literally going to hit it down your throat easily, leaving you breathless while your husband enjoys watching you choke on his dick like that -

He likes to degrade you in sex, it's a way for him to mark you as his and release his frustrations too, he will fuck you roughly, especially fucking you with his dick stuck in your pussy, with him lifting you easily while his hips they aggressively pound against your tight hole.

"-You're a great slut, you know? Taking my cock like a desperate bitch."

"-Oh fuck, you feel so good, don't you? Your pussy was made for me, the grand master lin kuei, and only mine, only I deserve you, do you hear? I'm just going to fuck that beautiful pussy until you can only think about how You want my dick inside you."

"-Do I really have a little whore as my husband/wife? How lucky for me then."

"-I'm going to fill you up... I'm going to fill that tight pussy of yours, and you want that, don't you? You want every drop of my cum, you're a hungry slut."

He loves to call you: "slut", "dirty bitch", "private whore", "nymph", "good boy/girl with a tight pussy". Most of the sex sessions you have with Bi Han end with him cumming on your face, pussy or belly, painting everything with his cum and leaving you panting with your legs shaking - for him, sex really is only good when you are weak from cumming on his dick, and overstimulated, with a swollen clitoris - He loves many sexual positions, but he prefers:

Cowgirl’s Helper: He likes to see you on top of him, your hands on his chest, while one of his hands squeezes your ass, and the other is behind his head. Bi Han watches you get impaled on his dick, stretching your pussy slowly, as your pussy drools on his pulsing dick, he looks at you, smiling smugly when he sees the rise of his dick in your womb. He would just groan in response to your desperate moans, watching your body move as you whimpered to cum - he wasn't going to let you cum yet, and if you did, he was going to punish the hell out of you, giving you at least five painful orgasms and pleasant that night -

Stand and Deliver: He loves seeing you bent over, your waist is sore from being bent over for him, but he loves seeing your ass and waist on top, thrusting into your pussy while pulling your hands behind your back, he would go so hard on your hole that your feet would leave the ground, you could feel the burn of the speed of Bi Han's dick in your pussy, but he wouldn't stop, he wouldn't stop until he left you a trembling mess full of cum - while calling you a desperate slut his cock -

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

[chronicallycouchbound]

I feel like people often don’t talk about the experiences of disabled people who have caretakers because so much of the conversation is about us—not including us.

I receive in home care for 30 hours a week (+ 4 hours/week for respite). This is paid for by Medicaid (state insurance). Outside of paid hours, my primary caretakers care for me unpaid and assist me most of the time. I’m very rarely left alone due to my high support needs. Often, when I am left alone, I am completely bedridden or at minimum housebound. I have frequent emergency life threatening health problems, falls, and serious injuries even with support in place, and these things significantly increase when I’m on my own.

I’m extremely lucky that my paid caretakers are my partner, my sister (the only family member I have regular contact with, I’m estranged from the rest of my immediate family and most of my extended family) and my best friend.

I used to have agency staffing which was horrible for me and borderline traumatic. At several points, before doing the self directed care option (which allows me to choose my own staff, hire and train them myself and dictate hours for them), I opted to not have any staffing. I was regularly in the emergency room. I can’t drive, so I was having to walk and if I was lucky enough to be able to take the bus on occasion or get a ride from a Facebook acquaintance, they were few and far in between. I don’t have family support, and even my sister who is supportive wasn’t living in the state at the time and doesn’t have a car most of the time.

And before I could even choose which staffing option, even though medically it had been deemed essential for me to have in home care, even though my insurance covered it, I had to wait several years (I was 18 when I was approved) until I was 21 to qualify to start. The reason why: I was legally an “adult disabled child” because of my high support needs (which is funny because I STILL don’t have SSI at age 24) and thus legally unable to consent to my own care plan. I needed a blood relative to consent, and that same blood relative (who had to have proof of such!) couldn’t care for me. At the time, my sister was the only person who could’ve been my caregiver and also she is the only verifiable blood relative I have contact with for safety reasons, and my only relative on this side of the USA.

The first business day after my 21st birthday I immediately got things set up to get in home care.

This is out of date, I get assistance with more than just these highlighted ADL (activities of daily living) tasks now.

In short: my day-to-day life is entirely dependent on others.

And there’s power imbalances that exist between me and my caregivers, even with my current caregivers being amazing and anti-ableist. They will always exist. We talk about the power dynamics of me being dependent on them for my survival, and how heavy that weight can be for each of us.

Having caregivers often means that accessibility is extra difficult— I’ve been told straight up multiple times that I can’t have assistance from my caregivers to help me change in a changing room when we’re out shopping. That they can’t go into the bathroom with me, that they can’t help me get un/dressed during appointments, that they can’t come into spaces with me.

I’ve been denied access to psychiatric care because I can’t do my daily living tasks (ADLs- the highlighted items) independently. And when I’m in a hospital or emergency room, I can’t have my in home workers be paid to care for me, there’s an expectation that the nursing staff at the hospital will do it. Even though my caregivers were specifically trained to learn my body and needs for weeks and have been working with me for years. I have severe cPTSD and showering in front of a stranger is something I cannot do. I would rather fall or faint or get injured or just not shower than deal with that. But I’m expected to just let anyone have access to my body just because I’m physically disabled and need support.

When I faint/fall/get injured/have life threatening health issues arise while I’m not clothed, or when I’m otherwise vulnerable, I’m supposed to let strangers just touch me however they want to. I have to show them my chest (for my cardiac care) and let them poke and examine me. I can’t object without losing access to vital care.

I have agency. I have rights. I have autonomy. I deserve to be able to exercise these things.

[syoounn]

•A little scenario saying they are handsome (part 2)

•Characters: Fyodor, Nikolai, Poe

(Part 1)

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Fyodor

You were quietly staring and admiring Fyodor's appearance as he made eye contact with you as it surprise you.

"Is something the matter?" He lifts an eyebrow, taking off his coat and putting it onto the coat peg. "You're gazing at me quite odd."

"Nothing.." you said shyly.

As usual, Fyodor sees through you rather easily. He approaches you with light, silent steps and cups your face in his hands, scrutinizing you intently with those violet eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Mhm.. you're just handsome.."

He huffs out a sound that's a near to a laugh, a rare sight. His eyes, however, remain calm and serious as ever, and they seem to be inspecting you as if you were a book. Slowly, Fyodor leans forward until the tips of your noses are nearly touching, and his voice is a mere whisper when he speaks again. "What are you up to, my dear?"

"Im not up to anything..." you said.

His eyes glint with amusement, and he allows himself a mischievous smirk. Fyodor's thumb gently caresses your cheekbone, and he speaks in a low voice. "I know you better than you know yourself, my dear. That's not very convincing, is it?"

As if wanting to test his own theory, Fyodor's left hand now sneaks around your neck until his fingertips skim over your skin. A shiver makes its way down your spine at the gesture, the faintest of touches, yet full of intention. He chuckles. "Ah. See? I know you are far better. Your body betrays you, my love."

"And now you blush." His eyes gleam in triumph. Fyodor's thumb brushes over your cheek again before he brings his face close to your ear, and his breath is hot on your skin. "You know I always see through you, no matter how elaborate your schemes. After all, you are mine."

It's so endearing how you are trying to hold on to your secret. Without warning, he suddenly pushes you against the nearest wall, the hand around you neck keeping you caged in place as he presses his body against yours, and his eyes glint with a mixture of teasing and hunger.

You'll have to pray for yourself tonight...

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Nikolai

“Guess what I did today~?” He exclaims excitedly.

"Dangerous stuff..?" you said.

“Of course not, my love!”

He pouts, and you can hear him being sarcastic about this as he hugs you. He rests his head on top of yours. He gives you a quick kiss on the top of your head, and he rests his chin on your head.

“I was just doing simple work for Dostoevsky…”

“A boring mission at that - I just had to disguise myself as another man’s secretary! They were so fooled, too… they thought I was this boring person, and not the great Nikolai!” He says proudly before giving you a kiss on the cheek. He spins you around to kiss your lips properly.

"Mhm... The great Nikolai is handsome after all.."

He grins as he kisses you and lifts you up in his arms. He is quite strong, so doing this isn’t a problem for him, even if you are quite tall as well. He holds you up in his arms with a gleeful look on his face.

“You think so, dove?”

He hums, He’s always been overly affectionate. He’s like a puppy if a puppy was a psychotic mass murderer.

“But, if you really think I’m handsome…”

He gently rests you against the counter, standing between your legs, holding your waist as he smiles down at you.

“How about I show you just how handsome I am~?”

He rests his hands on your hips, his hands slowly tracing circles on your body.

“A little performance, perhaps?”

He leans in and whispers into your ear, his mouth so close to your skin that you can see a sly, mischievous grin on his face.

"Performance..?" you said, confused.

“Tada! As my dove, you get a very, very special performance! One that no one has ever seen before…”

He lifts up your chin and captures your lips in a kiss. He kisses you with a feverish passion, one that makes you not question how someone as strange as him had been able to pull you.

He is always very gentle with you, even if he can be very… cruel when it comes to his other activities. But you just hope you'll enjoy his performance tonight.

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Poe

Poe was currently working on the noble as you looked at him with curiosity while Karl was laid down on your lap sleeping soundly.

"Could you come closer..?" you said.

Upon being asked to come closer, Poe set down his pen and got up from the desk, walking over to you and stopping beside you, looking down at your sitting form.

“Is there anything you need, darling?” he asked a small smile across his face, his attention on you now and not on his work.

You lift up his bangs as you smile

"You're very handsome,"

He flushed a little upon hearing these words and smiles, and you called him handsome. Soon, a small embarrassed giggle left past his lips as his bangs were held up by you, revealing more of his face.

“Thank you- you’re very pretty too..” *he muttered out, leaning down a bit as to not pull your hand away as you held his bangs up with your other hand free hand to do as you pleased with it, his face was flushing a little.

Poe blushed a bit upon having his bangs lifted by you. You can see his flustered face.. it was cute.

“You are beyond beautiful. Perhaps you should model for me sometime?”

"Model?.." you said, confused.

Poe nodded, a warm smile on his face.

“Yes! To model, maybe for a book cover, for example, or to help me with some art references, I’m sure you would look amazing in whatever you did.”

Poe took a seat next to you and gently held your cheek in his hand. His gaze was filled with an immense amount of love as he smiled, gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

“Would you like to model for me, my love?”

That took you off guard, making you blush as you nodded shyly.

Poe practically grinned at your agreement, gently pulling your face closer as he kissed your forehead before speaking again, his tone softer.

“Do you perhaps have something in mind you would like to model? Like a dress, or something else?”

Both of you spent time discussing it..as it was the nicest and sweetest day you've had.

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[cipheramnesia]

This is the process my brain goes through every time I see anything about Netflix Avatar The Last Airbender.

My first reaction is always: Why? The original, although not without flaws, doesn't leave a lot of room to improve. A good remake or adaptation usually involves an updated context or change in perspective that adds to the original work and gives it new meaning. It's a risky undertaking because it usually involves wanting to take on something established as iconic and make it your own. But Netflix is a corporation and seems very risk averse for the most part. Its only investment is in the name recognition of AtLA. It's hard to visualize Netflix deliberately taking a big risk on an expensive show.

My second reaction is: How? The original series is about 1400 minutes over 61 episodes, and it still had to rush the ending. We're looking at 8 episodes of roughly 45-60 minutes per episode for season 1, which would require Netflix to let it run more than 3 seasons, if the series has similar pacing. Historically however Netflix shows have glacial pacing, and rarely make three seasons. Not really sure how they plan to tell the story if the series is anything like the average Netflix series, meaning it either needs to undercut the story or let the series breathe for at least five seasons. But nothing Netflix has done makes me want to watch anything they make as an ongoing series? Why bother, they cancel everything I enjoy. So I wonder how. What's the hook to say "this will be able to provide something new and interesting compared to the original, and will be allowed to tell the complete story."

Which leads me to think, but you can't judge if something is good without seeing it. Except none of this is about whether it's good, I just find myself wondering what are the odds it's worth the effort? They're low, and it has nothing to do with whether or not it's even any good on its own merits.

Following this, I ask myself, what would a good version of this be. Imagine you are making a live action series with eight hour long episodes per season based on a children's cartoon with 20 thirty minute episodes per season. You are trying to encompass a story which was presented over three seasons as a cartoon, and you do not know if you will have more than those eight episodes. It's made for Netflix which, in terms of a company which will protect the hard earned fruits of your artistic labor, is the fox guarding the henhouse. What do you do?

If you are looking to make something good, that respects your audience investment and your own work, you make radical changes to the story. You change the pacing, the character arcs, the plot arcs. You make sure you deliver a complete story in those episodes with as much respect for the original work and as many new ideas as you can.

Except, at that point, what is even the point of a remake. The only way to work with it is either to trust Netflix allowing you to finish the story (which you'd need to be incredibly naive to do), or tell a story so different it may as well be wholly original. And that's where I always end up. Like, it'll probably be fine, but what's the point of it all? Another vanishing digital property to get canceled because of some undefinable failure to return on investment.

I think about it a lot because the two ends of the spectrum seem to be "dunk on every new piece of information" or "wait and see" but the only conclusion I can ever reach is "why even care?" That's been the lesson to take home from digital streaming in general when it comes to series, but Netflix in particular, and honestly for movie series too. If it can't be self contained, the companies who produce and release these kinds of series just cannot be trusted with it, and there are too many good original stories being put out to care anymore about big budget promises that one day they will definitely for sure deliver a finished story, this time for real.

I care enough to think about why I don't feel anything at all about Netflix Avatar. It'll be fine, whatever else. Just fine.

[mm-lurking]

MAY I REQUEST FOR ANGST POOKS 😘😝 MYBE ABT BRINGING UP THEIR DEAD EX BY ACCIDENT DURING AN ARGUEMENT? THERES RARELY ANY ANGST IM GETTING MAD 👹

I saw your ask at 11 pm and something about the way you wrote your request made me giggle so hard idk why 🤣 Since you demand angst I shall give it to you. You’re my first ask btw so thank you very much! 

I’m not sure which character you wanted me to write for so I’m going to go for Blade and Aventurine. Though feel free to send me specific characters through the ask again!

Warnings: no fluff at all, pure angst, fem! reader and ex, reader has no chill running her mouth, Aventurine’s kinda feels ooc sorry about that WC: 1881

Blade

You were a hair’s breadth away from being gravely injured. If it weren’t for Blade’s interruption you would have been Antimatter Legion dinner tonight. In your eyes you weren’t in that much danger, you knew you could handle it on your own but in Blade’s eyes, it was just another flashback to how he lost her. It felt frustrating to watch him downplay your capabilities, it's not like you were some weak damsel in distress. There was a reason your relations with the Stellaron Hunters had lasted as far as it had; you were good at wielding your weapon and making good use of the enemy’s weaknesses. Sure there were moments when you were in trouble but you never really got to live the thrill of it because Blade would always step in to help you even when you didn’t ask for it. 

You loved him dearly and appreciated his assistance but just for this instance, you wanted to deal with things by yourself. Ultimately your agitation got the best of you and so now here you were with your arms crossed, glaring at Blade after the enemy was taken care of.

“Have you always been this foolish?”

You stare at him with wide eyes and an open mouth, questioning his audacity of insulting you like this.

“Excuse me?”

“You could have gotten hurt.”

He says matter-of-factly and you feel your jaws clench at the way he speaks to you.

“Blade I am fully capable of looking after myself! I need you to stop interrupting my fights!”

“If I didn’t that Antimatter Legion pawn would have sliced your head off your shoulders.”

“And how the hell do you know that was going to happen?! I could have fought it easily if it weren’t for you!”

He turns around and looks at you with cold eyes which make you flinch momentarily.

“You overestimate yourself.”

“I do not! I have worked relentlessly on my skills! I know what I can handle or what I can’t! You just never allow me to prove it!”

“You are a fool. I do not need to see you pushed to your limits to acknowledge your skills.”

“Then why the hell won’t you let me do what I want?!”

You both argue back and forth with neither of you backing down. Blade speaks calmly, just as he always has but with slight frustration whereas you on the other hand are full-on yelling and boiling over to the point of rage. He takes a deep breath and continues.

“I am just looking out for you-”

“I am not weak like Chun. Stop treating me like I am.”

You almost immediately regret it the moment those words leave your mouth. Your words are sharp and bitter, and pierce his heart like a blade slashing through flesh. His eyes are ablaze with fury and pain and the way his jaw clenches is enough to let you know you have overstepped your boundary.

Chun was his first love. She was a good woman with a kind heart, and despite how odd she looked amongst the Stellaron Hunters, they welcomed her as long as it made Blade happy. But in a world full of evil, being kind is a weakness and ultimately she met her end in the hands of an enemy during heated negotiations. For the one whose life was already cursed by immortality, he took her death hard and swore never to love again, for he couldn’t bear to witness yet another loved one depart for the nth time in his long life. His already broken heart took ages to heal and by the time you crossed paths with him, he was still grieving over her. You knew this very well because it was you who assured him that history wouldn’t repeat itself with you. It was you who helped him heal further and gave him the confidence to open his heart up once more to you. You knew what she meant to him because he had been honest with you about his past yet-

“Blade I-”

-here you were driving the very knife you had taken out of him so lovingly back into his heart in full force. He looks at you with so much despise and agony that your heart hurts knowing you are the cause for it. A blade being stabbed over and over into his body hurt, but those wounds always healed after a while. Yet the wound your words had caused was one that no medication could fix. Your throat tightens and you want to reach out to him and hold him but you stay glued to your feet.

“We don’t need to be around each other anymore.”

Despite the torment he feels, he looks straight into your eyes and monotonously speaks. There is not even a single moment spared for you to reply as he walks out of the room and slams the door shut, indicating he is done with you. The door closing was not just the end of the argument you both were having, it was also the end of what you were to each other. You stand there rooted to the ground as tears sting your eyes. Why did you have to be like this?

Aventurine

“Aventurine I swear to god I am not playing your petty games again.”

You angrily huff as you cross your arms and glare at Aventurine with disapproval. The audacity of this man was truly something, especially at a time like this. You both were stuck in an interesting situation, where Aventurine had made a gamble with an enemy territory and he wanted you to be part of it. More precisely, he wanted to turn you into his bargaining chip for a while. There was one tiny problem. He wasn’t asking for your approval, he had already made the deal.

“The table has already been set, friend. You just have to play your role real well.”

Your jaw hangs low when you realise what he has done. 

“Aventurine don’t tell me….”

“They have decided to ask for you in exchange of information. Do not worry, I will find a way to-“

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence as a loud slap resonates across the room. You stare at him in disbelief with tears welling your eyes, unable to process what he has done. A shaky sigh leaves his mouth and he stares at you, bewildered by your behaviour.

“It hasn’t even been a full week since we finished another deal and you want me to jump head-on into another one?!”

“Was there a need to slap me like this? If you’re forgetting, friend, you agreed to help me out on these deals regardless of the risk. Or should I have the doctor examine your memory?”

“Aventurine I agreed to help you out, not be used however you please! You could have at least asked me first before making the deal!”

You rub your temples and rethink the entire situation through. Your relationship with Aventurine was compatible due to one simple fact: you both loved taking risks. The thrill of the gamble and the adrenaline of waiting for the results kept you both alive. It was the drug you both needed in this cruel unjust world.

But this, this was different. This wasn’t just any gamble and it wasn’t a small one either. Being traded off to the enemy territory for a few weeks was no easy task and you have no idea what the hell Aventurine was thinking. In your last deal, you barely made it out alive as the tables turned against your favour. It was a miracle your assets weren’t taken and that you weren’t killed in the process.

“…I promise you will be fine, friend.”

Tears sting your eyes and you try to take a deep breath. 

“How can you be so sure?”

“The gaiaithra triclops blesses me abundantly. We will not lose.”

“Is that what you said to Lilac as well before her demise?”

You hear how his breath hitches in his throat at the mention of Lilac. He coughs a little and then stares at you with a look you cannot decipher.

“Do not bring her up.”

His voice is a mere whisper and you know you’re crossing some lines already. Yet you don’t stop there. You jab your right index finger into his chest with every word you speak.

“I don’t know what’s worse, being a gambling chip on purpose or being a gambling chip unknowingly, like she was.”

He grips the hand you have on his chest tightly. You can’t help but wince a little at how he’s looking at you with red eyes filled with regret and anger. He tries to speak but you cut him off.

“Was losing her not enough to learn your lesson? Or do you turn everyone you love into pawns of your game?”

“You’re crossing the line now.”

He warns and you shake your head.

“You treat everyone like an asset, even the ones who truly love you without any hidden agenda. No wonder you couldn’t save Lilac-“

“Enough!”

Before you can process what is going on Aventurine pulls out a gun from his inner coat pocket and shoots a random vase on the table behind you. The bang of the gun and the loud shattering of the ceramic into pieces makes you jump and shake a little. He then shifts his gaze on you and lets your hand go before issuing his warning.

“…you need to leave. Leave before I accidentally hurt you.”

“I-“

“I said leave!”

He points the gun at you. His hand is shaking in a manner you have never seen before and you can tell he doesn’t want to do this but you’re giving him no choice. You stare at him for a moment and nod your head before scurrying away.

Once you’re out of his sight he plops onto the nearest sofa and drops his gun. It lands with a loud thud as he puts his head into his hands and shakes visibly. Flashbacks of that dreaded day start to play over and over in his head and he clenches his teeth as a tear rolls down his eye.

Lilac was a woman he met during one of his travels as an IPC stoneheart. They got along pretty well and eventually fell in love. A few years ago, Aventurine asked her for help during a deal he made and she agreed only for the other party to target her as leverage against Aventurine. He still remembers the pain in her eyes as she looked at him, confused and hurt from how she became the target. He remembers holding her in his arms apologising over and over for his lack of foresight, unable to figure out where he went wrong.

It was the first and last deal he ever lost. And now you, his new partner after several hard years of grief, were bringing up old wounds that never healed. Gaps of his heart that nothing would ever fill. Another tear rolls down his eye as he grits his teeth further. Had he known you would bring her up like this, he would have never told you about her. It’s always the closest ones that hurt you the most. ⋇⋆✦⋆⋇ ©mm-lurking 2024 do not copy, steal or reuse my work.

[ateliersss]

Together Forever

Pairing: Tsu'tey Te Rongloa Ateyitan x Fem!Reader Summary: Soon you'll be one of The People… Cross-posted on AO3: here Word Count: 733

“Am I ugly to you?”

Today was your big day, the consciousness transfer. You would become one with your avatar, leaving your human body to be with the man you love and live the life you've wanted since you first met him.

The ritual for Jake happened the day before. Never would he ever be confined to a wheelchair again. Never would he ever leave this world and his mate to wake up in a link unit. And never would you.

Tsu’tey looked at you while he gently wrapped your body in an algae-like plant like they did with Grace’s three days ago. Nothing man-made was allowed near that sacred place you would go to in a few minutes.

“What do you mean?”

“The first day you trained me and I was making a fool of myself, you said my human-self must be hideous when my dreamwalker-self is already ugly.”

Tsu’tey stopped in his tracks to look into your eyes. A rare sheepish smile appeared on his lips. “That was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Tsu’tey grumbled before continuing his work. He was almost done. The plant was wrapped around your legs and arms and hid all your private parts which the na’vi had looked at with curiosity and fascination. You had been nervous the whole time and wanted to hide yourself while your mate explored your body with his eyes and hands. Not because you didn't trust him or because you didn't want him to see you, but because he had always despised and loathed humans and he might be disgusted.

What you didn't expect were the tender and careful caresses. You didn’t say a word to give him time, to let him do this in his own pace.

“All sky people are ugly.” He said in English.

Before you could even think of something you could reply with he continuied, “You are so small. So weak.”

You huffed. “That’s easy to say for someone who is a 10 foot tall blue alien.”

Tsu’tey chukled. “If anyone on this planet is an alien, it's you.“

“Yeah, you’re right.” You smiled up to him, taking his much bigger hand in yours.

Tsu'tey looked down at your intertwined hands with his usual poker face, but his eyes held all the love for you within them. “You are beautiful, you have always been beautiful. In this body or another. From the day I caught you in the forest with Jakesully to days I taught you all about us to our mating. You made me feel... something. That hasn't changed for a second. Not even now that you look like this.”

You sat there before him, stunned at his words. In the short time you spent getting close on a more intimate level, you realized that he wasn't a man of big words when it comes to expressing feelings. Nothing surprising. Rather, he showed his affection in a different way - going out into the woods to hunt and present you his prey; saving food for you when you arrived later at Hometree; gifting you clothes, weapons, holsters; giving you feathers, beads, pearls and other trinkets for your hair.

He had shown off his strength and skills with those gestures and you didn’t even realize he had been courting you.

Physical touch like holding hands, wrapping his arms around your waist or his tail around yours, cuddling or even kissing followed shortly after that but those moments were kept private.

However, after the revelation of your mating, some of it happend more and more often in front of the others. The revelation had been a disaster and caused an agitation within the Omatikaya clan but his promised mate had already chosen another as well. After that he didn't waste a moment to show others that you belonged to him. He was always by your side, holding you close to him while still looking like his strong and intimidating self.

You stood to be on an equal footing, took his face in your hands, and rested your forehead against his.

This short moment of togetherness was quickly interrupted by an awkward throat clearing.

“You’re ready? It’s time.” Jake said with a sly grin. Neytiri stood with a soft look on her face next to him.

You just rolled your eyes and looked back at Tsu’tey with an excited smile. 

“Soon you and I can be together forever.”

[dream0fschism]

are your nsfw requests still open? if they are could you do one with könig and medic!reader? the rest is up to you

god i’m such a konig slut

i'm back, my darlings!

PAIRING: König x f!reader

“I’m getting tired of seeing your hooded face, König.”

He never spoke much, a thing not uncommon for men in his field of work. Many preferred the comfortable air that the silence brought, enjoyed how it was such a stark contrast to the sounds of gunfire, explosions, screaming. It made your dingy, makeshift clinic a refreshing stop for most.

But the man in front of you had made trips to your room so frequently you’d figured he must have broken some kind of record. You’d treated gunshot wounds, minor burns, patched up his bloody knuckles countless times… there wasn’t an inch of skin you hadn’t laid your fingers upon. Each time you cared for his cuts or stab wounds, some of which hash-marked atop of old and stubborn scars, it was as if you gathered more intel about his personality otherwise untold.

König was a machine, dangerously dedicated to proving his worth - dangerous for the receiving party, of course - with a willingness to sacrifice as much of his flesh and blood as it takes. If necessary, he would nurse his own injuries, albeit terribly, in favour of granting himself an advantage or winning battles. You recall a few times in which you scolded him for his amateur efforts. “If you cauterise one more wound this terribly I’m going to refuse you of future treatment.”

Of course, he’d remained silent. But you swore you saw the slight crinkle in the skin around his eyes.

And in his dedication you couldn’t help but see a deep insecurity. Sometimes, but only on the rare occasion, he would show up barely alive. He would always be alone, never needing his comrades to waste their energy and strength on carrying him to safety. But you would always worry the most in these situations, when his skin was pale and cold and he still refused to remove his hood. “Anything below here, I can take care of myself,” he’d struggled to grumble out.

If he wasn’t so unbelievably skilled, you’d assume he had a death wish.

“I’m sure you’ve said that before,” he answered, the sudden sound of his accented voice gifting you with slight surprise.

“I suppose I’m running out of things to say,” you chuckle, continuing to swab at the dry blood clinging to the skin of his sternum. “And you’re just about running out of unmarked skin.”

“Mm, my gear does seem to be quite useless,” König nods. “Perhaps fighting naked wouldn’t make much of a difference.”

The harmless joke has heat creeping onto your cheeks, and you’re really baffled by your own brain because of it. As if you hadn’t seen ninety-percent of his body already.

“Perhaps not.”

"You are blushing," he notes. "Yet this isn't your first time you've rubbed at my bare skin."

The hand you had placed against him stilled momentarily as his point only intensified the bubbling heat in your face, swelling a ruby-red shade along each of your cheekbones. You continued your aid, with a strict refusal to allow your gaze anywhere else except for his wound.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," König breaks the short silence that followed.

You laugh dryly as your awkwardness fizzles away a little. "You're all finished."

König brushes a hand over the gauze, inspecting your work. When he says nothing, you stand on your feet and gather the used swabs, kicking your wheeled stool to the side to make your way to the bin.

Before the lid had even closed the trash behind it, you felt the warmth of his towering presence at your back. It startled you all the same, a sharp inhale sucking its way through your parted lips.

"I have to ask.. Do you like seeing what's beneath my gear?" He presses each of his long fingers into your shoulder as his hand cups over it.

"Isn't that question a little inappropriate..."

"If I'm crossing a line, then tell me to stop."

You open your mouth to reply, unsure of what exactly you'll say when the hand at your shoulder slowly begins to move. He's agonizingly slow, careful as he explores over the layer of your white button-up, and you feel utterly insane for being unable to use your words and put an end to it.

Instead, you stare blankly at the off-white wall in front of you and allow his hand to roam.

"Can I tell you something?" He asks, edging his hand to cup below your right breast. The touch causes you to lean into the tower of his body, a sudden tenderness and sensitivity wracking each nerve in your chest.

"I enjoy coming to see you," he continues, prompted by the way you relax against him. "In fact, I refuse to see anyone else when I'm injured."

It makes you cock an eyebrow. "I thought it was strange, just how often you needed medical attention. Were you slacking out there? Hoping to get injured so you could see me?"

König huffs out a dry laugh. "No. But part of me did want to be indebted to you."

Liar.

"Why?"

"Because I needed an excuse to give you exactly what you deserve."

You swallow a dryness in your throat, the hand on your breast gives a generous squeeze as you do so. You almost choke on your own saliva.

"If that's something you want..."

"And what do I deserve?" Though you feel as though you already know the answer, you ask anyway, subsequently causing a heavy pulse at within your heat.

"I'm much better with actions than words."

"They do speak louder, I suppose..."

König takes your response as agreement, the hand at your breast moving to dig desperately beneath one of the spaces between the buttons of your shirt. He finds purchase and, in one swift pull, violently rips open the shirt, each button clicking gently as they bounce against the tiled floor.

You open your mouth to scold him, to tell him that he owes you a new shirt pronto - but König is determined to waste no time as his hands are already tugging the band of your bra down to expose your tits.

"I've wanted to see these for a long time," he breathes, and you hear the tremble in his exhale as he does so. "So perfect."

It dawns on you that you must be an obsession of his, that he may be interested in you significantly more than you are in him. It's the only viable explanation for his reckless behaviour, and yet it still didn't make sense why he would risk his life even more than he already did just to be in your presence.

"I.. hope you realise I have no other shirt to wear," you say, inhaling sharply at the sensation of his hot, calloused fingers brushing circles into the shape of each of your nipples. "How am I going to leave this room?"

König tuts as his hands cage around the mounds of your chest and pulls you flush against him.

"Who said you're going to leave this room?"

The pit in your stomach spirals into a trench, and then König is lifting you, using the leverage of your weight against him, before you can even stutter out a response. His hands guide your body along like you're no heavier than a bag of rice, a true display of his unbeatable strength that sends your mind numb - reminds you of just who you're dealing with.

A ruthless, merciless killing machine.

When König settles onto the examination table, he makes sure that you're positioned perfectly onto the tautness of his giant thighs, and you finally win against the babbling, incoherent flurry of thoughts inside your skull and speak.

"This... Surely we're violating multiple codes of conduct.. protocols... I-"

König allows you to cut yourself off, relishes in the way you hiccup at the sensation of linen on skin as deft hands begin to slide up your skirt.

"We can stop," he suggests, halting the movement of his hands but continuing to brush his fingertips back and forth, so awfully close to the insides of your thighs.

You squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head to rest just below his shoulder. Every single horny neuron inside of your brain fires at you, reminds you of just how neglected you've been sexually, what the countless hours of constant shifts have denied you for so long. And then it dawns on you.

"König, we can't. I'm not on birth control."

The man laughs. Laughs. It's the first time you've ever heard such a soft, genuine sound escape his mouth. You feel a twitch below because of it, the heat between your legs only solidifying the way his display of amusement has made your want for him so much more intense.

"Love, I'm only interested in your pleasure."

And you know better than most that a man who prefers giving rather than receiving is a rare find.

It would be a tragic waste.

When you spread your legs unconsciously, your skirt ruffles up until it can't no more and König reacts accordingly to the invitation your cunt is giving to him. But he spends too much time massaging the sensitive skin between your thighs for your liking, and you lift your hips to encourage something more.

What you get is rather unexpected, and would be a little annoying if you weren't so drunk on your own arousal. König hooks a finger under the material covering your hip bone and jerks his wrist, tearing your panties with ease before moving to finish the job at the other side.

"Please," you murmur, eyes trained on the large hand between your legs. He shushes you, with a gentleness you didn't suspect he had in him.

"Quiet now," he hums out. "Let me show you how grateful I am to you."

You feel your clit screaming for pressure, but König's fingers seem to ignore the cry as he toys with the wetness around your hole. The sensation tickles slightly, until he's pressing his middle and ring fingers inside.

Immediately, your hands fly up to brace at the arm that begins to move, long fingers filling you enough to bring a whimper from you. It feels good, but not perfect, and the man seems to read your mind as he curls his digits to rub at your sensitive, spongy spot.

"Oh, fffuck," you sigh, digging the back of your head into him with more force and following with a series of guttural groans.

"Quiet," he scolds, a slight venom in his tone. "Or I'll have to stop."

"Don't," you almost growl with a buck of your hips.

You almost forget the other hand that rests over your left breast until it starts to knead and pull at the skin, almost miss the sound of König's pants as they ooze with arousal from behind his mask.

With only the sensation of König's palm brushing against it, your clit is desperately swollen. You're willing to look the other way when you feel yourself constricting around the now three fingers pumping in and out of you.

When he speaks, his movements don't falter.

"I'm going to stop, and when I do, I want you to lay on your back on this table. Understand?"

"Yes," you obey. You're pretty much putty in his hands at this point anyway.

And so you splay out on the cold metal of the table - which your white coat does nothing to protect you from - skirt bunched up around your hips, shirt ruined and ripped open and completely exposing your chest and belly.

"Lift your legs," he commands, hand ready to hold them in place as you do as you're told.

At the end of the table he stands, lanky arms reaching over to grasp each of your ankles as he slides you along the metal until the backs of your thighs butt against his own.

You feel uncomfortably aware of how exposed you are as he spreads your legs and examines the sight before him. His eyes are cold, fierce - akin to the eyes of a hunter eyeing its prey. Your body feels as cold as the surface beneath it underneath his stare.

König releases your ankles to let your heels rest at his shoulders as his hands begin a slow trail down and along your trembling thighs. Each of his thumbs hook around your corresponding hip bones, calloused fingers cupping in place at your lower back.

His baby blues eyes are considerably darkened to a shade of grey as they flick up to meet your own, and moments later the hem of his hood is brushing gently over your swollen slit.

You've never seen his face, but you've never wanted to more than you do now. His hold on you is intoxicating in a way that staggers your cognition, robs your brain of any chance of comprehension as you can only watch him lean further forward and dip until you can feel the heat of his breath against your cunt. His tongue is hot, completely saturated in his own saliva as it makes contact with your puffy clit. It snatches the breath from your lungs with violence, and when it starts to massage on and around the nerve you can only mewl and whine meekly.

König continues his watch on you the entire time, evidently enjoying the pained look that the struggle to keep quiet brings to your face.

You lift your hips into the onslaught of his mouth, and his grip around them becomes vice-like as he forces you into place and sucks harshly at your nub. This only serves to fuel your physical struggle under his pleasure more, and he grunts at your display of disobedience, lifting you higher until only your upper back and head touch the table.

The new position makes any movement too difficult for you, forces you to submit against him as he groans into the taste of your pussy. "König, I-God, I can't--" You flail your arms until they slump defeatedly back down to your sides, nails scratching at the frigid surface below you.

He manoeuvres his grip for comfort, lifting you further, until his forearms are encircling and squeezing around your waist and your calves hang over each of his shoulders.

"König, please, fuck--"

The man hums into your heat, all but abusing your clit with the vibration that follows through the sound. You're forced to slap one hand over your mouth to muffle the repetition of cries falling from it. König's lucky, his hood seems to dull his grumbles of pure satisfaction that reverberate against you. But you still hear every bit of them.

Your body spasms when you come undone against König's relentless mouth, legs jittering with a force that wobbles your entire body against his own. His hold on you helps stabilise you through the orgasm, but your hands fail to suppress the desperate, hopeless wails you release from behind them.

"That was beautiful," you barely hear him say through the ringing in your ears. "But I'm not done, Doctor."

[littlelillycatsworld]

weight loss breakdown (for once not a mental one impressive ik)

as promised heres my weight loss breakdown. I have awful brain fog words aren't working properly (using any and all brain power on English rn) and it's a bit all over the place please be patient with me I have most definitely forgotten some stuff I'll update when I remember

this is not healthy this is what works for me I know the limits of my body you are your own person please look after yourself and don't compare yourself to me. I'm a professional ballerina and ex-taekwondow artist

please be polite don't leave unsolicited advice if I need or want it I'll ask and right now I DONT.

I'm not suggesting that anyone should attempt to fallow this since this is actually insane

DRINKS

I drink lemon honey water or tea for breakfast most days depending on how much calorie dread I have (does that make sense?)

I will only allow myself to drink water, tea or diet coke/zero or ultra monster throughout the day

MEALS

OMAD when possible budget is 900 I rarely ever make it close to my budget

I'll only intentionally eat dinner unless forced otherwise. I must burn off whatever I can from dinner since I don't have classes that late

some days it's completely unavoidable and I have to eat snacks due to outside pressure like friends and family or my manager (he's apparently hell bent on keeping my ass alive)

binges happen we (I) acknowledge them we (me) move

if I feel faint when In class nothing matters I WILL eat I cannot run the risk of hurting myself or my dance partner when it's him who will be the one who makes sure i dont hit the ground

META DAYS

meta days are important please take them!

I must allow myself 2 grace days a week and I try to be gentle with myself. (essentially I'm gentle parenting myself on these days)

I try not to fall into my normal over the top exercise routine since I still haven't figured out how to make these days my bitch

my cal budget is normally around 1400 for these days

EXERCISE

I must do 10k steps at least (normally much closer to 25k)

I start every day off with a mile run sometimes 2 (depending on how much I want to not exist and weather conditions)

i go to the gym at my dorm when weather conditions are bad or it's to cold for me I run on the treadmill it's not as mentally stimulating as outside but I don't like the rain ice or wind too much

i can be expected to be dancing for 8-9hrs on my longest day so for the most part I don't need to worry too much about forcing myself to burn calories but it gives me peace of mind I burn an estimated 4500cal these days (impossible to know for sure since 2 teachers don't allow activity trackers)

around 3000 on my normal days but again 2 teachers are a pain In my ass

I play just dance religiously at this point it takes me 2hrs to burn 500 I do this after dinner or twice a day on the weekends where possible.

I still practice taekwondo and go to a studio to do classes once a week but it's not as extreme as it used to be (no longer training 6 days a week and doing competitions)

WEIGHING

I weigh myself most days

I don't weigh myself during my meta days I don't need the added mental stress

I get weighed by my school once a week but only update my profile if there is a big difference either up or down (accountability and all that)

FASTS

I normally do 24hr since omad

I don't count my medication, gum, diet coke/zero tea or lemon honey water as breaking my fast. if this keeps me mentally stable then idk it doesn't count (politely eat a brick if you try to tell me otherwise)

I always try to get at least one longer fast a week normally after dinner on wednesday to Friday dinner sometimes I can make it to Saturday dinner it just depends on who's around to make me eat

if your wondering how I've survived this far all I can say is I'm a spiteful little bitch who's going to prove a whole list of people wrong

[thepenultimateword]

Too Tall Part Six

I missed my awkward space babies

||Part One||Part Two||Part Three||Part Four||Part Five||

Antolin held a hair tie in his teeth as he gathered his hair into a half-knot. His face was still pale, and his leg throbbed like hell, but he finally had the energy for an outing. Though, conscious to preserve that energy, he currently sat on the end of his bed, the wall mirror taken down and propped haphazardly in an open dresser drawer.

He turned his reflection from side to side as he ran his fingers through the top layer of tangles, scrutinizing the deep blue cross-wrap shirt from all angles. It had been a rather long time since he'd been on shore leave, so It had taken forever to find an outfit that wasn't a uniform or lounge clothes. The shirt's neck plunged a little low for comfort. It looked strange. Was that out of unfamiliarity or because it actually looked bad? He hadn't minded the look before, but now after several years of tight, high collars, he felt almost indecently exposed.

“You can’t be serious.”

Antolin briefly met Zae’s glaring eyes in the mirror. “What?" He took the hair tie in his hand and pulled the tail through two and a half times. "It’s just a walk.”

“You aren’t actually interested in that bloodmonger, are you?”

He picked up a hairpin with dangling blue glass beads and paused. Interested? Unai had been interesting since the moment she arrived on-station. But Zae was talking romantically, wasn't she? That was a much harder question. Antolin had always planned on having a relationship with another human--if his job ever gave him the time that was. Unai was about the furthest thing from a typical future that he could imagine. The culture, the planet...the height. Not bad...but complicated. Different. However, he had grown used to her presence. And the idea of going out to do something un-work related did make his heart speed a little fast. Not that any of that was enough to make sense of.

“I don’t know," he said. "Admittedly, it is a little strange. But I do like her. To what extent I’m still not sure. In any case, we're friends."

Zae frowned deeper, folding her long, slender arms. "She’s arrogant."

Antolin offered a half-shrug as he slid the pin into his bun. “She’s arrogant because she has a right to be. She does her job with a proficiency and vigor I’ve rarely seen.”

“Only because she’s trying to impress you. I swear, the rumors I've heard around the station since she's arrived. Does she have no shame?"

Rumors? He'd have to probe around about that once he was up and able again.

“I highly doubt she would have reached the rank of captain without a good work ethic.”

“Alright, but that doesn’t change that she's Ke'turian--an incredibly violent species. They take whatever they want by force. And you're human."

Antolin frowned at the implication. Did everyone see him as weak? He'd proven himself multiple times on the Zenith, enough times to get this position. Yet, sometimes, he had the impression that everyone was simply humoring him. His stripes held the threat of federal discipline, so they did as they were told. But they didn't actually respect him. Obviously whoever was letting in their enemies found him an easy target. And now Zae felt the need to fret over him as if he were a child. He even doubted his own abilities after that terrible fight with the Lasters.

But then there was Unai. She had said she'd battle alongside him. Surely a Ke'turian would know best about battle. It hadn't felt like a lie, even with her abrupt retreat after saying it.

He drew himself up in his seat. "I'm quite capable of defending myself against any threat. Ke'turians included." The cold tone clearly struck Zae because she immediately dropped her gaze. Satisfied, he allowed a little warmth back into his words as turned away from the mirror to face her head-on. "But I can hardly picture Captain Unai attacking me."

Zae remet his eyes, clearly unconvinced. "Be careful."

He rolled his eyes. "I will. Promise. Now," he grasped his crutch, shoving himself to his feet and limping a couple feet out from the bed. "How do I look?"

Zae sighed. "Like you think you're going on a date."

***

Unai's long stride had brought her to Hayes's door too quickly. She was at least 15 clicks too early. Knocking on the door now would be an embarrassment, another overeager display of her one-sided affections. That was...if they were one-sided. Because this was a date. Right? She'd at least intended it to be when she originally asked--or tried to ask. She wasn't certain what it was now that Hayes had taken ownership of the excursion.

Unai leaned back against the metal wall. She shouldn't ask. If Hayes hadn't intended anything by proposing a walk--which he probably hadn't--it would be uncomfortable to bring it up. Not to mention the recent gossip on the topic. She'd never been subtle, but it was a little ridiculous that her connection to Hayes was being so blown out of proportion now. She really hoped Hayes hadn't caught wind of any of it. She'd specifically left mention of it out of their conversations in case the bother affected his health or his opinion of her.

She checked her communicator's clock function. Still 13 clicks early. Maybe it was alright to be at least 5 clicks early. Punctuality was a virtue. So that only left 8 to go. Manageable.

She smoothed the front of her plain black tunic for probably the fifth time since putting it on. The collar settled comfortably just below her throat, only a little lower than that of her uniform, but the sleeveless nature of the garment had her a little uneasy. On Ke'tukar, bared arms to a potential mate were as obvious a signal for courtship as shouting it aloud; she doubted Hayes knew that, but it hadn't stopped her from wanting to do so anyway, just as her own personal declaration.

Another glance at her communicator. 5 more clicks. Well, maybe 10 clicks early would actually be fine.

Unai raised her hands to the door and hesitated. She'd been letting herself in these past weeks anyway. And Hayes didn't always hear the knock. Maybe she should simply enter as usual. That might even let Hayes know the stooping level of her expectations.

She pressed the door button, moving forward as the door slid open. And nearly ran into Lt. Zae in the process.

Unai backed up quickly as the Lieutenant's initial surprise faded, and she stepped into the hall, punching the door button back to closed as she did so.

"Captain." Her address was chilled as usual, and her silver eyes roamed up and down Unai's frame with an almost sick regard.

"Lieutenant," Unai returned through gritted teeth.

"Subtle are we?"

"Forgive me, Lieutenant, but I don't understand what you're implying."

Lt. Zae nodded at one of Unai's arms. "Ke'turian females woo the males by exposing their arms. A show of the strength you have to offer. I hope you are not expecting Commander Hayes to fall prey to such a spectacle."

Unai fought down the flutter of her collar and set her jaw.

"My clothing has no intention outside of its flattering fit, and even if it did, I don't see how it's any of your business."

Lt. Zae rose up to her full stringy height--a little higher than midchest--the already pinkish hue of her skin darkening with contempt. "Commander Hayes is my longtime colleague, commander, and friend. You expect me to be delighted at his dalliances with a Ke'turian military officer?"

Unai wished she could roar in the face of this disrespect. Bare her fangs, raise her collar, and challenge Lt. Zae to a combat of honor. But that would only upset Hayes and satisfy the Lieutenant's bad opinion of her. Instead, she let her fangs only show slightly. "Xersians and Ke'turians may have differing ideals, but I never knew a Xersian to be openly prejudiced toward an entire species."

"It's not the Ke'turian species trying to initiate courtship with Antolin. It is only one."

Unai knew it shouldn't matter, but that casual first name drop made her insides twinge. Lt. Zae really was on closer terms with Hayes. But that still did not excuse whatever she was being accused of. "Am I missing something, Lieutenant?"

"You Ke'turian’s are as aggressive when courting as you are when fighting. You expect me to trust a species that takes their mates by force?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Don't play innocent; I've read up on Ke'turian customs. Fighting other females to the death. Taking the males to husband--sometimes by physical force--without allowing any sort of choice. It's disgusting."

“What?” Unai cried, her collar flapping up irritatedly. “Maybe a few centuries ago! Where did you read that, a history book?"

"It was a modern study on various species' courting rituals."

"Written by who? A Xersian?"

"The libraries on Xersa have an extensive collection of research. All of which is heavily peer-reviewed and fact checked."

"Sounds like your libraries are trash, if that counts as heavily fact-checked. Ke'turian courtships are consensual. If I am denied, I will give up my pursuit entirely." It hurt to say aloud, like a rock sinking to the bottom of her stomach. But it was true. Her advances only went as far as Hayes accepted them. Maybe that was another reason she wasn't being totally forward. Once she received the official no, it was done. She'd rather bide her time in hopes of a one-day yes.

Lt. Zae blinked a few times. Taking in the offense and the claim all at once. Her face contorted from enraged, to considering, to flat. "I...will check a few more sources. However, my current trust remains nonexistent. If I hear of anything unsavory occurring on this 'walk', I will use my current commanding power to dismiss you from the station. Clear?"

"Perfectly," Unai growled. She maneuvered around the Xersian, pressing the door button with a large, intentional gesture. As it slid back, she stepped into Hayes' quarters without a second glance at the eyes piercing her back.

Hayes hastily pushed himself up on his crutch as she entered. "Captain Unai!"

"Commander!" she returned, nearly on choking the greeting. He wore a blue tunic-style shirt that cross-wrapped over his chest, but not before dipping just below his clavicle.

No. No. She was not going to be accused of ogling again.

Unai forced her gaze away from his elegant neck and the peeking portion of--despite his months in bed--a toned chest. She didn't know why she had expected him to be in uniform today. Maybe because besides the sleep clothing he wore in his quarters, she'd never seen him in anything else. He seemed like the type who would sleep in his uniform if it weren't for the discomfort and possible damage to the material.

It turned out averting her eyes from the outfit did nothing to save her. Haye's long, dark hair, fell in full curls over his shoulder, and the little tendrils that were too small to be pulled into his half bun framed his face in a messy, tousled sort of way. His eyes, as dark and deep as ever, studied her intensely.

She looked down at the floor before he could see the full extent of her admiration.

You mean attraction, she corrected internally. Who do you think you're kidding?

Well, if this wasn't a date, hopefully Hayes.

After a few moments, when no reproach or teasing remarks came, Unai forced her gaze back up. Hayes was still staring at her. Not the piercing, soul-exposing way he usually looked at her, but like...like he was caught up in a thought.

"Hayes?"

Hayes jolted and cleared his throat. "You, uh, look nice."

Unai mustered every bit of her strength to keep her collar pinned taughtly against her neck. "Thank you. So do you." She awkwardly extended her arm. "Shall we?"

Hayes limped forward and took gentle hold of the crook of her arm with his free hand. He smiled briefly up at her with what seemed like...nerves? No, it was probably just uneasiness about going out for the first time. His leg was probably pretty sore.

"So, Captain, what did you have planned?"

[laenordeservedbetter]

Just idea to look over for if/when you feel like doing requests.

Sam and reader have always been close. The two grew up together. But after everything that happened in Woodsboro and them moving to New York, the two have grown even closer. Closer to the point where Sam sleeps in Readers bed because of her nightmares and one night when Sam thinks reader is asleep, she confesses her feelings to rs 'sleeping' figure.

Sweet Nothing

Words: 1.2k

Pairing: Samantha Carpenter x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of nightmares, cussing, fluff, humor in things that are supposed to be serious

This is set before the events of Scream VI. Reader is Tara and Sam’s roommate here, not Quinn.

Title is based on the song ‘Sweet Nothing’ by Taylor Swift :)

not my gif. || masterlist || previous work

Sam sleeping in your bed had turned into a customary routine pretty quickly after you moved to New York. It was no surprise, really. The two of you have stuck by each other your whole lives. Though, given everything that befell the town of Woodsboro, it’s safe to say that you and Sam had gotten closer.

However, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. Moving to NYC helped, sure, but that did not fully erase the remnants of the trauma it has given all of you. Especially Sam.

The nights were often hard to endure because of the nightmares. It was why Sam didn’t get much sleep. You found that out when you saw her on the living room couch staring blankly at the television with bloodshot eyes. She was barely moving when you saw her. That was when she opened up about her nightmares, how she couldn’t sleep well. In turn, you invited her to rest in your room.

It seemed silly at first, but it proved to be fruitful when Sam admitted the next day that because of the sleepover, she had had the best sleep she's gotten in months since the murders.

From that day onwards, Sam has been staying in your bed and is rarely found in her own room to the point where Tara suggested that the three of you should get a new roommate who’ll occupy Sam’s space since the older Carpenter sibling doesn’t sleep there anymore.

But as much as your sleepovers are helping Sam, it is also torture for her.

It was no secret that she harbored feelings for you. How could she not? You grew up together, went through so much shit together, and left the fucked up town of Woodsboro together. Still, those things can’t encompass how she feels about you. Every minute you spend with each other singularly adds fuel to an open fire. Even if you spend time apart, it won’t matter. The feelings are still there to eat her up. But she’d rather take that any day than losing you.

“Are you awake?” Sam glances at you over her shoulder. You have your back turned, eyes closed. She sighs when you don’t reply. “Guess not.”

She tries to fall asleep as well, but it is proving to be difficult since this is one of the nights where her affection for you threatens to eat her alive. If nightmares aren’t her problem, it’s her feelings. No matter what she does, there’s always something keeping her up at night. Although if you were to ask, she’d say that she very much prefers the latter. Looking at you brings Sam a calmness that pulls her back to reality when the darkness is trying to drag her away.

In a split-second decision, Sam attempts to impart a description of how vast her love (it took her a long time to agnize that it was no longer a stupid crush) is for you to your sleeping figure.

“I didn’t find a safe space until I met you. To other people, I’m strong, despite all the fucked up shit I went through. Only in your arms do I allow myself to break. You see who I am and not who I appear to be. You are who I look forward to seeing at the end of the day. It is you who I would do anything for. You’re who I… love.” Sam breathes out, smiling at her own words. “Feels good to finally say that out loud.

“Loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. Though it took me a long time to understand what I feel, I am grateful because I finally found a name to the crazy storm of emotions that I experience whenever you look at me. And, fuck, I’d do anything for you to keep looking at me the way you do. But I’d never have the guts to say that when you are awake because what if you stop? That would certainly change things. I don’t want to lose you . . . It is enough for me to love you from afar. I don’t want to be selfish, pining for someone I can’t have. So, I’ll settle for this, hoping that that would be enough.”

Sam feels an invisible weight lift off of her shoulder. She did it. She finally confessed her feelings despite knowing that it doesn’t count since you aren't conscious to hear this. If Tara saw what is happening, she would likely call Sam out on being a chicken. The Carpenter girl closes her eyes, sleep creeping up on her before…

“You know, out of all the confessions I had imagined I would get from you, I would’ve never expected hearing that.” You turn to your side, facing Sam and you look on with amusement as her eyes widen in fear. “Not complaining, by the way. What you said was sweet.”

Sam looks away, her hand covering her eyes as if that would make this situation any less embarrassing. She waits for the ground to swallow her whole, but that moment never comes. “I’m sorry.”

Your brows furrow, “For what?”

“I’m sorry I feel this way.” She clarifies, “I understand if you don’t want to be friends anymore. I ruined everything. I’m so sorry.” Tears start to prickle in her eyes.

You seem to think ahead, considering how you sit up, gingerly pulling Sam’s hand away from her face before she can hurriedly wipe out the tears. “Sam, you didn’t ruin anything.” You assure her. It hurts you to know that she thinks that she is ruining what you have by falling in love with you, as if you haven’t made it obvious that you feel the same.

“I didn’t?” Sam appears confused, half-expecting you to turn away and leave.

“I love you too.” You admit, sheepishly. “I had a whole plan to declare it. I was gonna take you out tomorrow to your favorite diner. Then, I would have asked you to walk with me and confess my feelings while watching the gorgeous scenery, including all that sappy shit that we’ve only ever seen in movies, but I guess this works too.”

Sam blinks repeatedly (you would’ve thought she was malfunctioning if you didn’t know her) prior to getting on top of you to hit you with a pillow. “So you’re telling me that we could’ve gotten that instead of whatever this is? Why. Did. You. Pretend. You. Were. Sleeping. This. Whole. Time?!”

You put your hands in front of your face to shield yourself from the attack. Laughing, you manage to say, “In my defense, I didn’t know you were going to say that! For all I know, you could’ve been planning to tell me you have diarrhea or something!”

“Unbelievable.” Sam scoffs, getting off of you. She stands up, heading for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“To my room.” She answers, pointing an accusatory finger at you, “You’ll make it up to me tomorrow by taking me to that diner.”

“We’re not even gonna kiss?” You pout.

Sam shakes her head indignantly, “Nope. Not until you take me out to dinner.” Seeing how affected you are, she chuckles teasingly, “It’s not the end of the world, Y/n. Be patient.” Then, she disappears, leaving you in your room alone with your thoughts.

You slump back into the bed, giggling like someone with a school girl crush.

And to think that this was only the beginning.

[earthnashes]

MORE GARGYOLES AU BAYBEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

I'm holding watch parties on my community discord for the Gargoyles; we're still on Season 1 but even then it's really helping give me some contextual clues I need for building the AU into something more sustainable. I'm super excited to get into Season 2; we'll be finishing off this season next Thursday before we continue on! :)

But ye! For this drawing; an experiment that went a little outta hand, but I'm glad it did. I really like the look of it; giving it some level of polish without resorting to coloring. I've always liked this sort of effect but rarely do I ever do it myself, but I think I'll have to do it more because it was far less time consuming to do! :>

So ye! More lore and brick work is being laid out for the AU, and once again I've written a short story to go along with the art!

For those of you who'd rather skip though, I placed it under the "Keep Reading" line, and for context for everyone here are some AU notes along with a TL;DR summary of what's happening here:

-AU explores the concept of "what if Demona was set onto the path of Redemption?"

-TL;DR for this image: Takes place a few nights after this. Demona confronts Elisa after her talk with Angela. To everyone's surprise it doesn't go south.

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

By all accounts Elisa thinks she should've expected this.

Especially with the life she's chosen for herself: top-rate detective with the highest arrest rate and cases solved on the force. In direct contact with Gargoyles-- literal living legends-- on a daily basis and what that typically entails, from revenge plots to sudden trips through the very fabrics of time. Enemies from all and every side, from supernatural to plain old human to the not-so-human and zealous occult.

And traveling Central Park alone in the dead of night? By all accounts, she should’ve expected this. Yet she still wasn’t prepared for the ambush.

One second she's halfway through the tunnel under the bridge. The next? Shoved face-first into grimy, soggy stone.

The taste of iron is sharp on her tongue as her teeth cut painfully into her lip on impact. It distracts her just enough before she finally zeroes in on the claws closed tight around the nape of her neck, another set digging hard into the leather of her jacket at her pinned wrists, easily piercing the material and biting into skin. She barely has time to gather her bearings before a familiar voice is hissing hot against her ear.

"You are not as clever as you think, detective."

Elisa's heart nearly beats out of her ribcage. "Demona," she breathes, alarmed but by no means surprised. It's been months since the last attempt the she-demon's made against her. Once again, Elisa curses allowing her guard to fall; she should've known it was only a matter of time before Demona struck. No matter how long this sudden bout of tremulous peace has gone.

"What do you want."

"That's exactly what I want to know," Demona drawls, pushing Elisa further into the rough stone. There's a seething sneer in her voice. " What are your intentions with Angela?"

Elisa pauses, her unease giving way to her confusion.

"What?"

Demona responds by gripping tighter, the tell-tale rumble of a growl behind her words. "You know damned well what I mean. It's no coincidence Angela has come to me so freely. Not if it meant lowering my guard; you're up to something." The gargoyle shoves Elisa none-too-gently against the stone again, her threat stark and clear. "And I don't take kindly to the thought anyone using my daughter like she's some sort of plaything--"

"--I'd never--" Elisa starts, offended, but she barely gets a word in before she's cut off with her own agonized grunt. Demona's bodily grinding her into the wall, the rough scrape of stone chafing at the skin of her cheek. She can barely breath with how hard the gargoyle pins her, straining for breath as Demona snarls at her, long teeth clacking dangerously close to her eye.

"Liar!" She barks, and Elisa hears how her tail cuts through the air as it lashes. "It's all you humans are ever good for! Weave empty words into pretty things, only to strike when your back is turned. Angela told me herself what you said, and your words ring hollow. You and I both know you don't believe any of it. What's your game?"

"So Goliath is right, then?" Elisa huffs in lieu of an answer, stilling herself and going mostly limp in Demona's grasp. Her common sense screams at her to struggle, to find an opening and break free... but her gut tells her stay put. Her father always told her to listen to her gut when it spoke, and it's never steered her wrong before. So she breathes in as much as she dares and forces each of her muscles to relax, to appear as little a threat as possible in her position.

Not too hard to do considering the circumstances, but it takes several breaths for her heart to stop trying to burst from her chest. Nor does it really erase the glower overtaking her face.

"Is that it? Angela shouldn't be anywhere near you. Shouldn't be allowed to choose for herself and that it was a mistake to even try to talk to you?"

"By the moon we glide under, I despise you, detective!" Demona hisses, and Elisa doesn't need to see her to know her eyes have begun glowing hot red. "I'm no fool; you view me a monster. You have absolutely nothing to gain from encouraging her to see me. Nothing. So why? What do you want with her?"

"Is it really so hard to believe I care for Angela?"

"Yes." Yet there is some degree of hesitance in Demona's voice when she says it, something Elisa nearly doesn't catch. As if the she-demon almost believes her own answer, but not entirely. There's enough evidence with Elisa aiding her old Clan-- never truly for her own gain -- that brings question to her conviction. "Humans don't do anything unless they gain something in return. You are either after her, my life, or something else." Demona allows Elisa's arm free to rake her claws against the stone of the bridge. It gives way easily as if nothing but dirt, leaving deep divots in a clear display of a threat. "Do not make me ask again."

"Then you're right," Elisa replies easily-- or as easily as her position allows-- and of all the responses she could've gotten Demona doesn't expect that. It's clear in how much she loosens her hold on Elisa in apparent surprise, no longer choking her so much as simply holding her in place now. Elisa's instincts flair then; demand she elbows the she-demon in the belly and get distance, yet even still her gut urges her: stay put.

"I do have something to gain. Angela's happiness."

Elisa doesn’t expect her words to have any real effect. Readies herself for Demona to snap at her again. Force her against the unforgiving stone, have her taste her own blood again, maybe even work up the nerve to inflict the bodily harm she always threatens. This is probably the closest she's gotten in a long while.

But Demona does… nothing. Simply a presence behind her. One simmering with barely held anger and confusion and the weight of her own paranoia. But still as stone—listening-- all the same.

Stay put.

Elisa takes in a shaky breath.

"She's miserable, you know. When the clan speaks ill of you," She breathes quietly, surprising herself with the gentleness in her own voice. "Goliath explicitly forbids her from ever trying to talk to you. He thinks you're a lost cause." It’s not hard to think of Goliath’s demeanor in those moments; regret, sadness, guilt, traces of betrayal and anger whenever he speaks of his ex. He's long since given up on reaching out to Demona.

"And maybe I did too, once. But now, I--"

The look on Demona's face when realizing who Angela was flashes through her memory. The shock, quickly replaced with unbridled joy and hope. Something Elisa was unsure Demona could feel up until that very moment.

"--you could've left us to die by Thailog's hand. You could've ended all of humanity with just a press of a button. But you didn't."

Elisa doesn't mention the sudden lack of schemes against all of mankind. She doesn't mention the abrupt disinterest in attacking the Clan. She doesn't say anything about how--even after all this time, even now-- she is still alive, when Demona has had ample chances to rid herself of her. Elisa is no slouch: she's proud enough to admit she's held her own against Demona a fair number of times. But there were times where only her keen eye and years of training caught the very slight hesitance from Demona when she was all but helpless.

"I don't think you're a lost cause," Elisa says unwaveringly. Nothing in her voice gives way to any underlying uncertainty she has. To the questions she burns to ask—why? What changed? -- but won’t. Not yet. "I have my reservations. But I don't think it's anyone's place to make that decision for Angela. Nor do I think it's fair to rob you of the chance to prove to her you're more than your past."

Elisa hesitates for just a second before she says clearly into the silence of the night, compelled by Demona's uncharacteristic show of restraint: "...I-I don’t think you’re a monster."

I never thought you to be.

The thought comes unbidden, and it catches her off guard at how honest it is. She doesn’t put it to words, only remaining in place and holding steady. Waiting.

Demona still doesn't say anything. Doesn't really do anything at first, but there's a very clear shift in the air, subtle as it may be. Elisa's instincts are no longer in overdrive, no longer in high alert of danger. Somehow  --even in Demona's sharp grasp-- there is no more danger to be aware of.

It's in the way the gargoyle's silence turns contemplative and not a raging storm cloud. In how she suddenly doesn't dig so hard in Elisa's jacket, tucking the tips of her claws safely against the leather and not into delicate skin. The intent is no longer there.

Demona mutters something to herself, low enough for Elisa not to hear what she says, but even with her keen senses it still manages to surprise the detective when the gargoyle simply... moves away.

It's by no means gentle. She abruptly drops the human without any sort of care, allowing her to crumple under her own weight when she finally touches ground after several minutes being held aloft. But the principle still stands.

Demona let her go.

"…I don't believe you," She grunts in a voice filled with scorn, but the usual bite is missing. Elisa allows herself a moment to rub at the scratches and welts those wicked claws left behind. She clears her throat before she chances a glance at the gargoyle and finds her back turned to her.

"I'm not asking you to," Elisa says softly. She eyes the gargoyle warily. "And I still don't trust you. But I do trust Angela. She saw something worth her time in you; the least I can do is support her... and be there if it blows up in her face."

When Elisa finds the energy to stand, she musters up a warning glare at Demona, stance cautious but no less filled with promise. "Don't make me regret it."

The threat behind it is barely veiled, and it must be the right thing to say, because Demona only barely casts a glance her way. Her eyes are hard to read. And despite it, Elisa can see the smallest hint of something in them when forest green sweeps over her, foot to face, the faintest upturn to the corner of her mouth.

"Then we are on the same page."

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

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

For some extra context:

-Demona is referring to how Elisa told Angela that she does actually believe Demona isn't pure evil, or a threat to her. Elisa doesn't trust Demona at all, but she recognizes that something has shifted in the gargoyle, and she knows she would never hurt Angela, so she sets aside her own doubts and encourages Angela to seek her mother out. I have plans to draw and write this interaction in the future so we have more context in this regard!

-Elisa strikes me as the type to be able to see things in varying shades of gray: Goliath isn't wrong in his reluctance to allow Angela near Demona, but she honestly doesn't think her heartless or a completely lost cause. Especially after she learns some of Demona's past

-Demona would never admit this, but she does actually respect Elisa. Much to her chagrin. Unlike most humans whom she barely bats an eye toward, she sees Elisa as her equal in prowess and intelligence, and she hates that she does, but she'd be a fool if she ignored it.

The further I get into the show I'll expand on this idea, but that's it for now. :)

[hyperfixatedonthisnow]

Siren's call

*not my GIF I know, I know, I suck at titles, but I’ve come to accept this about myself and therefore so must you! Summary: A Siren and a privateer fall in love, but how will he react when he finally learns what she is? Requested by: Anonymous - Sturmhond/Nikolai finds out his girlfriend is a siren. How will that go? - Dearest anon, I am *so* sorry that this took me so long to put out. I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole researching Sirens and found your request so interesting that I honestly could have written much more. I started out with Sturmhond, then switched to Nikolai after reader learns his real name, and I went with Sirens as shape-shifting mermaids, rather than the Greek version of bird like creatures, mostly because it was easier to write in but also because birds freak me out a bit tbh, I’m hoping you don’t mind. Also there’s smut at the end, but if you don’t like that then feel free to stop reading when the kissing starts 😉 I realized way too late that I probably should have asked you for more details 🤦‍♀️ So I can only hope that this is something close to what you wanted! Word count: 7.5K ish - because much like our favorite prince/privateer, I prefer to use several words when one will do 😅

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild peril, mild angst, a touch of fluff, minor OC’s who exist only to further the (minimal) plot, a very brief mention of non-con (but not with Nikolai), smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, semi-rough sex, marking, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

You had been following the ship closely for weeks, watching the crew, learning their habits, and charting their course to figure out the best time to take them. Amalia preferred to wait until they were close to land, though it was easier and safer to simply lure them into open water out at sea. She liked the challenge, but more than that, she liked to be the last thing the men saw before they died. It made her feel powerful- to know how much they wanted her and could never have her.

If it was up to you, you would wait until nightfall and sing from a distance, letting your enchanting lullaby guide the men from their beds straight into a watery grave. You didn’t take pleasure in their deaths, even if you knew it was necessary. Unnatural your sisters teased, for a Siren to have such a soft heart. Amalia never joined in with the teasing, though you knew she didn’t really understand you either. Still, she indulged you by allowing you to act as scout, and that meant you could mostly narrow down the targets to pirates and slavers, offering the fishermen and other sailors some small semblance of protection.

Whenever possible, you would scout several ships at a time, so that you could choose the one you wanted and hopefully sway Amalia towards it when you returned to discuss your findings. Unfortunately, only one ship had passed through your waters in almost a month, and although you felt it was worth saving, there was no second option.

When you met with Amalia, you thought carefully about what you had found before you spoke, deciding on the major details you should share with her and filtering out your own more personal observations.

At first glance, it had seemed like a Pirate ship, but further investigation proved that it was not. The crew was an eclectic mix of men, women, and Grisha, of various ages and races. The captain - who went by the name Sturmhond and insisted he was not a pirate, but a privateer - was young, barely out of boyhood, and yet it was clear that he commanded their respect.

He ran a tight ship, but he always treated his crew warmly and he worked alongside them often, doing his fair share of the hard work. He was rarely angry and never cruel, as far as you could tell. At night the crew would gather on the deck to drink and play cards, and he usually joined them. He didn’t seem to think himself above their company as some captains would. You watched him dance and laugh along with the others, and when he lost at cards, he always took it in good humour.

In the conversations you had overheard, the captain’s responses were measured and kind, free from judgment or scorn. Although they carried an impressive arsenal of weapons, you had witnessed no violence from him, nor any of his crew. No prisoners taken, no poor souls forced to walk the plank, no slaves bound in the hull of his ship.

He spent most of his hours working on some flying contraption and after several failed tests, you saw his joy when it actually worked. He was a good man, you had concluded. Intelligent and funny, and handsome, too. You tried to imagine Amalia’s face if you admitted that last bit out loud - she would probably think you had taken leave of your senses completely.

You bit your lip, wondering how you could persuade her to spare them, to spare him.

“Actually, I was thinking… maybe we should… let this one go,” you suggested tentatively. Might as well just be direct.

Amalia stared at you as though you had grown an extra head. “Let them go?” She said after a moment, her nose scrunching in disgust. “You think these men should live?”

“They aren’t just men,” you rushed, trying to justify yourself. “There are women on the crew, and Grisha too.”

“And?” Amalia prompted.

“And, they don’t deserve to be punished for the sins of men,” you argued, “they’re innocent.”

Amalia rolled her eyes, “They’ve chosen to take up with a pirate, have they not?”

“Privateer,” you corrected, but the moment the word was out you wished you could call it back.

Amalia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at you. “Privateer?” She echoed.

“Yes?” You squeaked, and it sounded more like a question than an answer. You cleared your throat. “Yes. He’s not a pirate, he’s a privateer, and he’s a good man, Amalia. I’ve seen it.”

Amalia laughed, “There is no such thing as a good man,” she muttered, “They are all the same. Weak-minded, arrogant, selfish creatures. They live only for violence and destruction.”

“Not him,” you said firmly. “He’s not like the others.”

“He’s exactly like the others,” she snapped, “If you gave him the chance, he would kill you without a second thought.”

“No,” you argued, “You’re wrong about him. He’s smart and kind, and good. I swear it.”

She studied you for a long moment and you tried not to fidget under her disapproving gaze. Your cheeks felt hot, and you knew you were probably blushing.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with him!” She exclaimed finally.

You said nothing, but your silence was answer enough. You looked away, pressing your lips together. It was out there now, no point in trying to deny it.

“Foolish girl,” Amalia said, shaking her head. “There is no future for you with him, surely you must see that?”

“Of course I do,” you whispered, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. “But I won’t watch him die Amalia. Not this one. I can’t.”

Amalia sighed, and then she surprised you by pulling you in to a tight hug.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking.

“There’s a storm coming,” she murmured into your hair, “I suppose we could wait it out.”

“We could?” You questioned hopefully.

“If they can survive it, on their own, then we will leave them be. That’s the best I can do.”

Relief flooded through you, and you hugged Amalia tighter. “Thank you!” You cried.

She pulled back to look at you, her expression troubled. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but men are dangerous. All men. Even your privateer,” she said seriously, hands gripping your shoulders, “So if I do this, if I let him live, it is on the condition that you agree to stay away from him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. You would do anything to protect him.

“You must never see him again. Not ever. Promise me,” she insisted.

“I promise,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

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

The sea was rough, waves cresting 30ft high only to crash back down, as loud as thunder. You watched as the ship rose and fell along with them. You weren’t supposed to be here, had promised to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know that he would be ok. Amalia had agreed to wait until the storm had passed, but if the ship ran aground her small act of mercy wouldn’t matter.

You moved closer, letting the current sweep you towards the ship. It had to be taking on water, but so far, the crew seemed to be holding on. Once you were close enough, you watched them carefully. The Grisha who usually guided their sails spread his arms wide, fighting a losing battle against the ferocious winds. He was just a boy, and not nearly powerful enough to tame such a storm alone. A woman jumped from the lookout, rolling across the deck, and landing gracefully on her feet beside a tall man with similar features. They moved to secure the main sail, working in perfect tandem. A man in a teal coat ran from post to post, tightening the rigging and testing the knots before making his way to the helm to take the wheel. Sturmhond. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaking wet. He took the wheel with both hands, pulling hard to the left, and though his expression was determined, you could sense his growing desperation.

The ship slowly began to turn, forcing the bow away from the storm. Trying to outrun it. For a moment it looked as though his plan might actually work, but then suddenly the ship listed dangerously starboard. Sturmhond struggled to right it, but it was too late. A wave crashed over the now tilted masts, snapping them clean away with a force that rolled the entire ship on to its side. It bobbed precariously for half a second, sailors clinging to the railings, before another wave hit, cracking the hull. If they weren’t taking on water before, they certainly were now. Finally, a voice called out, “ABANDON SHIP!” and the crew began leaping into the sea, frantically trying to escape the wreckage before it capsized completely.

Your eyes scanned the chaos, looking for Sturmhond. You found him clambering up one side of the railing, the ship already beginning to sink beneath his feet. He was looking around, searching for something. Checking all his crew had managed to get out. And then you saw it, at the same time he did - the Grisha crewman, hanging upside down, tangled in the remains of the rigging. The boy struggled, desperately trying to free himself, but he was stuck. Jump, you urged the privateer silently, leave him, but you already knew he wouldn’t. He turned away from the water and began climbing towards his crew mate instead. Stupid. He would never make it in time. The ship was sinking rapidly. In just a few precious seconds it would go under, and when it did, anyone still on it would be pulled under along with it.

You wanted to help him, but you knew you shouldn’t. You thought of your promise to Amalia. She would be furious if she found out you were here, even more so if you interfered. You hesitated, still watching from a safe distance as Sturmhond reached the Grisha with barely a moment to spare. He tugged a knife from his boot and cut the boy free, allowing him to drop safely into the water beneath them. The boy didn’t wait for his captain, he immediately began swimming away from the wreckage. But before Sturmhond could follow, another huge wave swept over the ship, dragging it - and him - underwater, just as you had predicted. He was going to drown.

You made a split-second decision, diving under the water to search for him. The weight of the sinking ship acted like a vacuum, sucking everything downward to the sea floor. You followed it down, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Panic clawed at your chest. Had he made it to the surface by himself? You turned, ready to go back up, when a flash of teal and gold below you caught your eye. There. You dove back down, looping your arms under his and hauling him against you. He was limp, a heavy weight in your arms. You held him tight, swimming away from the wreckage and towards the surface as fast as you could.

When you reached the surface, you pulled him above the water line, working hard to keep you both afloat. His head lolled back on your shoulder and his eyes were closed. You weren’t sure if he was breathing, and you felt panic building again. You tried to ignore it as you headed for the shore, where you shifted quickly into human form. Once you had dragged him onto the wet sand, you laid him on his back and pressed your ear to his chest. There was no sound, no movement that suggested breathing. Maybe he swallowed too much water?

You turned his head to the side and then placed your hands over his stomach and pushed upwards, hard. Was that the right thing to do? You weren’t sure, but you thought you had seen it done before, once… maybe. Nothing happened. You tried again, and again… and again. Were you doing it wrong … or were you just too late? But then, suddenly, he was coughing up a lungful of water and gasping for breath as he came round. After a few moments he blinked his eyes open, finding you still leaning over him.

“Am I dead?” He mumbled.

“No,” you assured him. Thank the sea goddess! Overcome with emotion, you flung yourself at him, sobbing in relief. His arms closed around you hesitantly, though he surely thought you were insane - a perfect stranger, crying over him and hugging him without invitation.

The storm was over and the sea eerily still by the time the rest of his crew managed to make it to shore. You had calmed yourself, and Sturmhond was sitting up, chatting amiably with you, as if he hadn’t almost died mere minutes earlier. You learned that he had another ship, the Volkvolny, and he cheerfully informed you that really, the storm had done him a favour, because he hadn’t liked the other one all that much anyway. It was nothing short of a miracle that everyone had survived the wreckage with only minimal injuries, and that put them all in a remarkably good mood considering the circumstances. Sturmhond introduced you to the crew, and casually insisted you join them at the local tavern, to dry off and have a strong drink, or two.

As you got to your feet, you caught sight of Amalia at the far side of the shore. Too far away to really make out her features, but you could imagine the look of disappointment on her face. You had broken the promise you made her, and worse than that, here you were walking and talking with humans as though you were old friends. To top it all off, you had committed a cardinal sin amongst Sirens - you had saved a man’s life. You had chosen a man over your sisters, and no matter how much Amalia loved you, this was the one thing she could not forgive.

At the tavern, you quickly discovered that Sturmhond and his crew were a lively, friendly bunch. You were treated as the guest of honour since you had saved the captain’s life, and they welcomed you with open arms. So, when they planned to move to the Volkvolny, and asked if you wanted to come along, you agreed to go with them.

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It was far easier than you would have expected for you to adjust to your new life aboard the Volkvolny. You found that you had watched enough Sailors over the years to pick up some of the basics and luckily you hit it off with Tamar, who quickly took you under her wing, teaching you the more advanced skills. You listened to endless hours of poetry readings from Tolya, and in exchange he offered to teach you how to fight. In fact, most of the crew accepted you readily. In truth, a lot of the men had just been so enthralled by your ethereal beauty that they were half in love with you at first sight, and the fact that you had saved their captain’s life had been enough to endear you to the rest.

All except for one woman, a young Grisha heartrender named Laila who seemed set on hating you no matter how hard you tried to befriend her. Tamar said it was jealousy - Laila wanted to be the captains favourite but he had never shown any interest in her, and now with you around, he likely never would. You tried not to let it bother you, but you were worried that she might sense something was different about you and early one morning she confirmed your fears when she cornered you in the galley, pushing you up against the wall.

“I’m on to you,” she hissed, “you’re hiding something and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

You played it cool, pretending you had no idea what she meant, and though you briefly considered throwing her overboard, you ultimately decided it was too risky. Instead, you did your best to avoid her at all times, at least as much as you could avoid someone living in such close proximity, and you became an expert at hiding in plain sight.

The bond you had formed with Sturmhond as a result of saving his life grew into a fully-fledged friendship, and then, into something sweeter. Over time, you found yourself sharing his bed as well as his company, and once he trusted you enough to reveal his true identity - Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the Ravkan throne - you were moved into the captain’s quarters permanently.

You missed Amalia and being on the sea everyday but never in it, was its own special kind of torture, but you had made your choice and you would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You would choose him, always, whatever the cost. So, you vowed never to use your power again, if it only meant you could keep this new life, if it meant you could keep him. But of course, nothing was ever that simple.

You had been on the Volkvolny for almost a year when it finally happened…

The crew were gathered in a loose circle on the lower deck, chatting and sharing several bottles of liquor, relaxing after a long day. You followed Nikolai down the steps to join them and when he took the only empty seat, you didn’t hesitate to drop yourself into his lap. A chorus of wolf whistles and hooting erupted from the crew around you.

“Perverts,” you muttered, giving them the middle finger and they all laughed.

Nikolai looped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned against him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, content to just be close to him while the crew drank and talked around you. You joined the conversation only when spoken to directly and luckily no one noticed your contemplative mood, as they all got steadily drunker and rowdier as the night went on. At some point, someone started singing a sea shanty and one by one the rest of the crew joined in, happy and loud, and painfully off-key. You smiled and clapped along, but otherwise stayed quiet. Laila was watching you carefully from across the circle.

“You’re not singing,” she said suddenly, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the accusation in her tone.

“Oh, no one wants to hear my singing,” you laughed nervously, waving her off, “honestly I’m terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “You can’t be that bad. Come on, just sing a few lines,” she pushed.

You shifted uncomfortably on Nikolai’s lap. His hand tightened on your waist, and you knew he was listening. You struggled to think of another excuse. “I- umm…”

“Leave her alone,” Tamar interjected, and you flashed her a grateful smile for coming to your rescue. “She doesn’t have to sing if she doesn’t want to.”

“But she never wants to sing,” Laila muttered petulantly, “don’t you think that’s odd?”

“What’s odd is you insisting she does,” Nikolai said, an unmistakable edge to his voice. “Let it go Laila.”

Laila flushed at the reprimand. She reluctantly fell silent again, but she was glaring at the drink in her hands, her expression murderous. Silence stretched awkwardly for a few seconds, until Tolya thankfully broke it by producing a deck of cards and starting a game.

You declined to play, and as the cards were dealt you turned your attention away. Through the gaps in the railings, you could see the miles of deep blue sea that stretched all the way to the horizon, and you felt a familiar pull, calling you home. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill your lungs. Home. You would never be truly at home here, on this ship, and that thought filled you with sadness. You thought of Amalia, and you wondered if she missed you, the way that you missed her.

You were pulled from your reverie by Nikolai shifting beneath you. He leaned over you to throw his cards down on the table, declaring he was bowing out of the game and then he sat back, pulling you further into his lap.

“Everything alright, my love?” He asked quietly, his lips brushing your ear. You pushed away your melancholy, turning your head so you could look at him.

“Yes,” you murmured, and you meant it. You wanted to be here, with him, no matter how much you might miss home.

“Thinking about how absurdly handsome I am?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, and you laughed.

“No, but I was thinking about you,” you admitted, “about how I ended up here.”

“Ah, so you’re thinking about the time you saved my life then. No wonder you looked so serious.”

“Which time?” You mused, teasing him, “There are so many, I think I’ve lost count.”

Nikolai gasped, all faux outrage. “Once.” He insisted, “It was one time.”

“If you say so,” you smiled indulgently as he leaned in to kiss you, slow and deep, his hand cupping your jaw. The whistling and jeering immediately started up again. You pulled away, rolling your eyes at the crew’s antics.

Nikolai sighed. “For Saints sake,” he grumbled, but he sounded more fond than angry.

When you looked up, Laila was glaring at you. She fixed a smile on her face as you met her gaze, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” She said loudly, gaining everyone’s attention, “what exactly happened, the night you joined us? We’ve never heard your side of the story.”

Had she figured it out? You tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, but you had stared at her for a beat too long, and now everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“There’s really not much to tell,” you said carefully.

“Don’t be so modest,” Laila said, her smile sharp, “you saved the Captain’s life after all, and I want to hear every detail.”

Your heart pounded. You should have pushed her overboard when you had the chance. As you tried to come up with a plausible story, the ship was suddenly engulfed in a thick fog.

After that, everything happened so quickly that you barely understood it. One moment you were sailing in open water, the night clear and still, and the next, you were dodging gunfire in near blindness, as men appeared from nowhere and swarmed the ship. The crew fought valiantly, but you were outnumbered and outmatched by a pair of the most powerful Grisha you had ever encountered. You had heard rumours about the drug jurda parem, and now it seemed you were seeing it’s effects first hand. All around you was chaos and you couldn’t keep track of anything. Before long, most of your crew were injured and eventually, all of them captured.

The fog dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and then there was Nikolai - bleeding, gagged and bound - forced to his knees on the deck of his own ship.

A man grabbed you from behind, holding you against his body with an arm around your waist and a hand twisting painfully in your hair. Nikolai tried to call out as he caught sight of you and your captors laughed.

“Looks like we’ve found the captain’s whore,” one of the men chuckled.

The one holding you ran his hand up from your waist to roughly grab at your breast. You held perfectly still, you weren’t going to give these animals the satisfaction of a reaction, but Nikolai struggled against his bonds, and the man standing over him backhanded him hard across the face. He swayed on his knees, the force of the blow almost knocking him over, and blood trickled from the fresh wound at his temple. The men began talking amongst themselves, loudly detailing all the disgusting things they would enjoy doing to you later.

“Don’t worry,” Nikolai’s captor taunted him, “we’ll let you watch.”

Nikolai struggled again, cold rage clear in his eyes as the men laughed. For a brief moment, he managed to get to his feet, but that only gave his captor an excuse to hit him again, and again, until he slumped to the floor, and when you screamed in protest, the men laughed harder, enjoying your misery.

These men were going to die today, you decided, and you would not show them the mercy of a quick death.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and started to sing. At first the men only looked at each other in confusion, but as your melody continued, they gradually fell under your spell, their eyes glazing over. You tried your best to focus only on them, but it wasn’t an exact science, so your crew also felt the effects. Conveniently, they were all bound and so had little chance of hurting themselves.

You concentrated on the Grisha first since they were the biggest threat, followed by the rest of the men. At your instruction, they turned as one, and forming an orderly line, walked to the side of the ship before binding their own hands and feet together. Then they clambered up onto the railing, and one by one, threw themselves into the water, like lemmings leaping off a cliff. You saved the man who had smacked Nikolai for last, and before he jumped, had him stab himself with his own blade several times, just for good measure.

Once the last man entered the water, you stood at the railing, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as you watched them trying, and failing, to fight against their bonds in an effort to return to you. You watched each one slowly begin to sink beneath the water, and only once you were sure there would be no chance that any of them might survive, did you stop singing and move away. When it was done, you set about releasing your crew from their bindings and tending to their wounds as best you could. They were groggy from the after-effects of your song, and it took some hours for everyone to fully come around. No one could really remember what had happened, and you pretended not to know either. You could only cross your fingers and hope that no one realized the truth of what you had done.

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Nikolai was quiet in the aftermath, and though he put up a good front for the rest of the crew, you could tell he was shaken by what had happened. Once everyone was attended to, he announced he was going to his office and he took your hand, pulling you along with him. You followed him to the captain’s quarters in silence.

He let you enter first and you heard the soft click of the lock as he closed the door behind him. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk as you waited for him, but when he turned, he leaned back against the door instead of coming closer. His face was set, his eyes hard, and you knew that he had finally figured out your secret. Honestly, you were surprised it had taken him this long, you had always known it was only a matter of time. You watched him carefully, but you said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.

“You’re a Siren,” he said finally.

You nodded your head in answer, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question. He stared at you for a long moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, mulling over the many questions he must have. Eventually he seemed to settle on one.

“How many innocent men have you killed?” He asked.

“Innocent?” You huffed, “None.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “But you have lured men to their deaths, haven’t you?”

“I have.” You conceded. He knew what you were now, there was no reason to lie.

“So? How many?” He pressed. “You must have some idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to you.

“I didn’t exactly keep a tally,” you muttered.

“Tell me,” He demanded, “Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, “I can’t remember them all.”

“Those men had lives and families,” he said, outraged, “they were someone’s father, brother, son, and you don’t even remember them?!”

You felt your own temper beginning to rise and you struggled to keep your voice even. “They were Slavers. Murderers and Pirates. They were the worst kind of men.”

“You don’t know that!” He argued, “What right did you have to judge them?”

“I’m a Siren,” you reminded him, “It’s what I was born to do. I followed them first, watched them, saw what kind of men they were with my own eyes. I only ever took the bad ones.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “So now you expect me to believe Sirens follow some kind of moral code?”

“Not all Sirens, but I expect you to believe that I do.”

“How am I to believe anything you say” he scoffed, “You’ve been lying to me since the day we met.”

“I didn’t lie to you, not really. Everything I told you about myself was true. I just omitted one small detail.”

He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I think we have a vastly different understanding of the word small,” he muttered, “and a lie by omission is still a lie.”

He wasn’t wrong, but … “You lied to me too, Sturmhond.”

He straightened, no longer leaning against the door, but still kept the distance between you. “That’s hardly the same!” He protested.

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he huffed, “besides, I told you the truth once I thought I could trust you. Although clearly, I was mistaken.”

“You can trust me,” you insisted. “In case you’ve forgotten, I saved your life - twice. You’re welcome, by the way!”

He didn’t look convinced. “That first night, when you rescued me, were you watching the ship? Just waiting for an opportunity to kill us all?”

“No! I mean, yes - I watched you for a while, but I was never going to lure you. I convinced my sister to let you go,” you rushed, desperately trying to explain, “I promised to stay away from you and in return Amalia agreed that they wouldn’t go after you, if you survived the storm on your own.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, brow furrowed in confusion. “The ship sank and I almost drowned.”

“I remember. I was there when the storm hit. I saw you save the boy who was trapped in the rigging, and when you went under, I came after you.”

“I don’t understand. If you promised to stay away from me then why were you there?” He asked, frown deepening.

“I just needed to be know you would be alright,” you admitted softly, “I wasn’t supposed to help you.”

“I don’t suppose many Sirens would go out of their way to save a man from drowning,” he said, mouth curving into a wry smile.

“No. It goes against their nature. But you decided to act the hero and almost got yourself killed in the process,” you muttered angrily, “so I had to choose, and I chose you, even though I knew my sisters would never forgive me.”

“So, you really did save my life? That was real?”

“Yes. Everything between us has been real for me, I swear it,” you said earnestly, “I gave up everything for you.”

He moved towards you then, coming to stand over you where you were still sitting on the edge of his desk, and you widened your thighs to allow him in between them. He was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You closed your hands in to fists, fighting the urge to reach for him.

“And tonight?” He asked, “Did you kill those men?”

You could have lied, or pretended not to remember what happened, but you didn’t want there to be anymore secrets between you. “I did,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. You weren’t ashamed of what you had done. “and I would do it again if I had to. They would have killed you.”

“You’re not sorry,” he said, and you wondered if he wanted you to be.You thought about it for a moment, but when you closed your eyes, you could still see him on his knees. No. You weren’t sorry at all.

“They got what they deserved,” you hissed, “and the world is a better place without them in it.”

He gave a short, sharp nod of his head in agreement, and you smiled. Whatever he thought of you, he understood this at least.

“Tell me why,” he said, lifting a hand to brush your hair back from your face. “Why did you save me?”

“Because I love you,” you answered honestly, leaning into his touch when his hand lingered. “I loved you then and I love you now, even if you don’t feel the same.”

He dropped his hand, taking a single step back and you had to stop yourself from swaying forward, chasing the physical connection.

“How do I know that my feelings for you are truly my own? That you’re not influencing me somehow?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “by using your Siren powers to manipulate me? To seduce me? How do I know you’re not just making me think I’m in love with you.”

“Are you?” You asked hopefully, “In love with me?”

He looked away. “Maybe,” he hedged.

“Well, Siren power doesn’t work that way. My song inspires lust-addled obsession, blind desire, unwavering obedience - not love.”

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, considering your answer. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you, and suddenly all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.

“Okay.” He said finally. He stepped closer, into your personal space again, but frustratingly kept his hands to himself.

“Okay?”

“Yes. I believe you,” he said, “but you still should have told me. I had the right to know that the woman I’m sleeping with, the woman I fell in love with is a-“

“A monster?” You finished for him. You knew what men thought of creatures like you.

He glared at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s not what you were going to say?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“No.” He said firmly.

“Mmm,” you hummed skeptically. “So you’re not afraid of me?”

He blinked at you, as though the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Should I be?”

“Well, a little bit couldn’t hurt,” you teased.

He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now, that perfect crooked smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, finally, pulling you into him and you fisted your hands in his shirt to keep him there. He lowered his head at the same time that you tilted yours up, and your lips ghosted over each other, close enough to share a breath but not quite touching.

“I have one last question,” he said, and you bit back a sigh. For saints sake, what else could he possibly want to know?

“Have you ever used your power to seduce me?”

You squinted at him, trying to decide if he was saying you might need to use your power to seduce him. You felt a flush of annoyance at the suggestion. “No,” you said carefully, “should I?”

He shook his head, no. “I already want you,” he admitted.

“Good,” you smiled, “because I want you too. All the time.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up into a pleased little smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, leaning into him, and this time he kissed you for real, his lips soft but insistent against your own, not pulling away until you were both breathless.

“I’m still angry with you,” he said, when he finally succumbed to the need for air, “for lying to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, and you meant it.

“I know,” he said and then he dipped his head to kiss you again.

He brought his hand up to cup your face, the other still gripping your waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own and every time you pulled back, he only allowed you to draw a single, ragged breath before he claimed your lips again.

One of his hands ran up your side from your waist, until his thumb grazed the swell of your breast over the thin cotton of your shirt, and you shivered, leaning into his touch. You could feel his growing arousal against your thigh, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his bare skin against your own. You tugged his shirt free from his breeches, pulling it up and off over his head before he could protest.

He immediately slanted his mouth over yours again, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from you for more than a few seconds, and you let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and chest, before you worked on removing your own shirt. Your fingers slipped over the small buttons, and you growled in frustration, breaking away from his kiss so that you could see what you were doing. He made a sound of irritation, ducking his head to nip lightly at the curve of your neck and you gasped, your shirt momentarily forgotten as you grabbed a fistful of his hair instead. He groaned low in his throat when you pulled him closer rather than pushing him away, and he nipped at you again, teeth grazing your pulse point, this time hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned as his tongue flicked out to sooth the sting and you felt his lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk against your skin.

When you finally succeeded in unbuttoning your shirt, you reached around your back to unhook your bra and removed that along with it, and then you dropped your hands to the laces of his breeches before he could distract you again. He finally realized your goal then, and began to help, rather than hinder you, pushing his breeches and underwear down to his ankles so that he could kick them away. You stood so that you could do the same and once you were both naked, he lifted you back up, so you were sitting on the edge of his desk again.

You leaned back on your hands, and he dipped his head, capturing one pebbled nipple with his tongue. You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth as his fingers skated along your inner thigh towards your centre. He gave a small grunt of satisfaction when he found you slick and ready for him and you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging him upwards until he released your nipple with a soft pop.

He slipped two fingers inside you easily, and when you clenched around him, he let out a distinctly strangled sound. You met his gaze as you sat up, so you could hook your legs around his thighs, locking your ankles behind his ass to keep him there, and you enjoyed the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched as his cock settled between your thighs, so close to where you wanted him. You tilted your hips up, and he took the hint, guiding himself into place and filling you completely with one quick, hard thrust that had you crying out.

You clutched at him desperately, barely able to do anything but hold on as he set a punishing pace, driving his hips forward fast and hard, only to retreat, again, and again, until you were both panting. His hands gripped your hips so hard that you knew there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. The desk creaked loudly, almost drowning out your mutual sounds of pleasure, the sturdy wooden frame rocking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.

His face was buried in your neck, and you tugged impatiently on his hair as you felt the first tendrils of your impending orgasm began to creep up your spine, until he lifted his head so that you could capture his mouth with yours. He slipped his hand between your bodies as he felt you tightening around him, his clever fingers finding your clit and tipping you over the edge into climax with just a few precise movements. You cried out his name, convulsing around him as you came, your hand tightening in his hair so hard that it must have been painful, and you felt his rhythm falter. He thrust harder, pushing as deep as he could possibly go, once, twice, three times, then he stilled and shuddered, spilling himself inside you.

You all but collapsed against each other, both boneless and breathing heavily in the aftermath of your orgasms. He was the first to recover, and he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as he straightened, retreating from your body. He moved over to the basin near the bed, dipping a clean cloth into the water and wringing it out before returning. His hands were gentle, in stark contrast to how rough he had been minutes before and you tried not to wince as he carefully cleaned away the sticky remnants of your shared release, but his observant eyes caught it anyway. He pressed a finger under your chin to gently tilt your head up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, face creased in concern.

“No,” you answered, much too quickly.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his expression disbelieving.

“I’m a little bit sore,” you reluctantly admitted.

His face dropped into a scowl, and you knew he was angry at himself for being so rough with you.

“I’m ok,” you assured him, brushing your fingers across his forehead to smooth away his frown.

He searched your face, looking for any sign that you might not be telling the truth and you met his gaze, your expression loving and completely open. He rested his forehead against yours, peering down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said after a moment, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about right now.

“Never again,” you promised.

“Okay.” He said softly.

He leaned in to kiss you, sweet and chaste, just a slow glide of his lips over yours before pulling back to slide one arm underneath you and the other around your back. You squealed as he scooped you up, bridal style, so that he could carry you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and then lowered you down and crawled in beside you, immediately curling his body around you.

You tried to relax into his embrace, but you couldn’t, not when there was still so much you needed to talk about. You were afraid to bring it up, too scared to hear him say that this was the last time you could be together, so you waited until his breathing began to even out and he was almost asleep before you forced yourself to speak.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly.

“Huh?” He mumbled sleepily.

“With us,” you elaborated, “do you want me to leave?”

“What? No.” He said, suddenly sounding much more alert, “Of course not.”

He rolled on to his back and you turned to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you could look at him.

“What will you tell the crew?”

“Nothing,” he said simply, and though you should have been relieved, you only felt more anxious.

“But Laila is already suspicious,” you pointed out, “and Tolya and Tamar are too sharp not to figure it out eventually.”

“Then we’ll tell them the truth.”

“They won’t want me on this ship when they find out what I am, Nikolai.”

“Last time I checked, I was the captain,” he smirked, “I decide who I do, and don’t allow on my own ship.”

“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” you grumbled, “You’ll end up with a mutiny on your hands.”

“Then we’ll leave,” he said easily, as if it was the most obvious solution.

“Leave?” You repeated, not sure you had understood.

He shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered by the idea. “I was always going to have to go home eventually.”

“You can’t just leave. You love this ship!” You protested.

“I do,” he said, turning on his side so that you were face to face, “but I love you more. It’s my turn to give something up. If it comes down to it, I’ll choose you, always.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Hadn’t you just been thinking that very same thought earlier? He leaned in to kiss you, slow and achingly sweet, and all of your protests died on your tongue. He nudged you gently to turn over, pulling you back against him and wrapping his arm around you, so that you could be the little spoon as you finally went to sleep.

[accidentally-in-fictional-love]

Possibility of a Johnson thing with a plushy reader based on the song Crush by Cigarettes After Sex?

Feel Your Love Crush - Johnson/Reader

Warnings: No use of Y/N, gender-neutral reader, the reader has self-esteem issues but they're overcome, oral sex, brief fingering as prep, sex.

Wordcount: 3436

Summary: He was always surrounded by the most beautiful people you'd ever seen, so what made him look only at you whenever you were with him? You couldn't figure it out, but thanks to him you were beginning to.

Notes: I can't believe I'm 22 requests in and this is my first Johnson, how is that even possible OTL but aside from that and the Lester sequel, all of my old queue is now finished! When I saw this one I actually gasped, since I myself am plushy 👉👈😖 so while writing I kinda ended up doing it for myself, channeled my own insecurities in there, I hope that's okay! It still ends up cute, I just wouldn't be able to believe it if Johnson asked me out on a date when I'm me heh

Once again, you were thankful for the chill of the night as the southern heat died down for the day, a golden ticket in your hand as you waited in line behind the other eager patrons of the Bang-a-Rang. Johnson had told you to just come around the back, someone would let you in if you'd just mentioned his name, but you didn't feel like you were there yet, the constant worry that someone else would come along and steal him away always on your mind. It returned again as you were allowed inside, the beautiful dancers around you drawing the gaze and keeping it hostage until the money flew, but you had just one man in your sights again tonight, the back of his head just visible over the crowd as he headed for a table.

His friends were there, the ones he worked with and were rarely without, but he'd leave them for you again the moment he saw you, he always did. His back was still to you as you approached his booth, the blonde one, Matty, noticing you first and giving him a nudge and a smirk. He turned in his seat to see what had him smiling so wide, his eyes shining in the neons the moment he saw that it was you. He grabbed his drink and stood, his jacket slung over his shoulder as he left them as always, but you didn't feel like going out this time as you placed a hand on his shoulder, not after that week's ticket had cut into your grocery money.

‘Can we stay? I just got here,’ you murmured, not wanting to make him choose but also not wanting to waste all that money so soon. He was fine with it though, again he always was when it came to you, and the others made room as you sat down with them for a drink. You didn't talk much, just like him, the other two doing all the talking for you as the music blared on and the dancers kept drawing gazes, and when a particularly pretty one with red hair and an untamable smile came over to try and rile up Matty you couldn't help but feel that familiar comparison to everyone around you arise once more without fail. 

She was beautiful, she was lively, she was thin and fit and looked so pretty in her outfit, and the moment Matty finally sent her away with a, ‘Don't you have something better to be doing tonight?’ you felt Johnson lean in to whisper in your ear.

‘She's like a sister to us, you don't gotta worry about her,’ he reassured you with a smile, and while you tried to take comfort in that, you still couldn't help but notice that his friends were also beautiful and lively and thin, your thicker legs pressing together so you wouldn't take up too much space at your end of the bench. As if reading your mind, he motioned for Matty to lean over before whispering something in his ear, the blonde giving him a quick nod as Johnson then nudged you to stand. You did, fearing that maybe he'd caught on that you didn't fit in around here at last, but instead of telling you to go he instead led you to a nearby door.

It led to his bedroom, two king beds, three dressers, two nightstands complete with matching lamps, one small table, and three comfy chairs filling the room, a bathroom to your left cutting into the room and just barely obscuring the mess of clothes that were gathered on the floor in the remaining space on the other side of the wall.

‘Ignore that,’ he chuckled casually when he caught you staring, and you did the moment your eyes caught something else; it was the dresser by the door, one third of it a gather-all for their junk and empty bottles, the other two thirds housing a row of old books, while the wall above was decorated with photos. They were all pinned directly to the wall, only a couple having frames, and when you moved closer you saw that they were all of you.

You during your various drives with him, you when he brought you to his favourite shops, you that day by the river when you'd felt brave enough to not only swim but ditch the clothes you wore overtop of your suit; he'd said you'd looked amazing as he'd snapped the photo, but the camera was so old you'd honestly just thought he used it as a joke the entire time, because who'd ever want any pictures of you when they were surrounded by people like this?

‘I keep every one,’ he told you as he slotted himself against your back, his arms coming around you and making your plush tummy feel warm under his palms. ‘Ethan got the camera for himself, but I keep borrowing it whenever I know you're comin’ around.’

‘Why would you want these?’ You didn't mean to ask it, to question his tastes, but he didn't take offense at your words at all, just chuckled in your ear as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head.

‘Because you're the loveliest one of them all.’

Your breath caught in your throat as he spun you around to kiss you for the first time, your heart beating faster at his confession; you'd been seeing him for a few months now, he'd been the one to spot you in town and ask you out for drinks to your complete and total surprise, but you hadn't actually believed that this was real until now. He'd always seemed genuine in his friendship with you, and Matty and Ethan never once made jokes about how different you were, but it wasn't until he gave a gentle tug to your pants that you knew he actually wanted you as much as you wanted him. You let him lead the way to the nearest bed, it must’ve been his as he nodded for you to sit down, get comfy against the pillows, their softness luring you in and letting you sink in as you looked up at him in a new light.

‘They won't bother us, Matty's gunna bring Ethan up the river for tonight,’ he told you as he started to strip, the sight of him shedding layer after layer making the room feel much warmer than it actually was. 

‘And you really want-?’ you asked nervously, the way your thighs then rubbed together making him stare as he crawled onto the bed in front of you. 

‘Just as much as you want me, I’d like to think,’ he confirmed, a knee coming between yours to part your legs, ‘unless you don't want this?’

‘I do,’ you were quick to say, Johnson chuckling at how honest you were once you stopped trying to convince yourself you weren't good enough for him, a hand cupping your cheek when your face then turned red over your eagerness.

‘You gunna trust me when I say I've fallen for you, then?’ he asked softly, your throat tightening as you gave him a small nod. ‘Good, cause I've been dyin’ to get my hands on you ever since you walked in.’ He kissed you again as he straddled you, his taller form boxing you in against his pillows, and you helped him start to strip you as the music went on outside. You wore a bit less than usual to combat the heat of the wait, and it seemed like he enjoyed what you'd chosen as he hummed to himself, kissing each new part if you that was revealed. 

You had to help him tug your pants down your hips, your cheeks flushing again when it proved to be a bit difficult, but he just smirked and yanked them free in one quick movement, your body jolting down with the movement and making the both of you laugh at how strong he was. It was just what you needed to not only feel more comfortable with baring yourself to him, but to set the mood as well as he ran his hands up your thighs until he settled on your hips. 

‘So soft, I'm gunna love holding you,’ he growled lowly, his desire for you making it harder to keep your own hands at bay as he rocked his hips forward just once. ‘You looked so good that day by the river, I wanted to push you in, tear that suit off…’

‘Johnson,’ you moaned, unable to keep yourself from imagining it, knowing full well that you hadn't been able to help yourself after seeing him sweating in the sun in just an undershirt, his jacket and button up left in the car.

‘So many nights I pictured myself between these thighs, wanted to know how it felt when you held me in place, I'm so glad you said yes to that drink.’ He was confessing everything to you now that he could, more talkative than you'd ever seen him so you knew just how much he felt for you, the sound of his rarely used voice only making you want to hear more. ‘Lay back, I can't wait any longer…’

You shifted down with his help, his mouth finding your thighs as promised as he tugged at the waistband of your underwear, his hands everywhere the moment he freed you of them as well. You made sure to give him space, spreading wide the further he traveled until you were squeezing on instinct, the pleasure of his mouth on you making you gasp and clutch his head. 

He didn't complain, only groaning against you as he wordlessly urged you to do more, want more from him, and you rolled your hips as he pressed light bruises into your skin. He worshiped you until he was satisfied, his eyes dark as he forced himself to stop before you came, because there was more he wanted, and you wanted it as well as you gently took him by the chin and guided him back to your mouth. 

‘I'm not letting you go home tonight,’ he whispered as you undid his belt, his need to be with you now very apparent as he rocked against your waist. ‘I wanna fuck you slow, love.’

‘Please…’ You'd never wanted anything more in your life, your mouth going dry as he took himself out and started to stroke. It looked like it pained him to have to part with you now that he had you on his bed, but it was a necessity as he got up and went to the nightstand next to the other bed instead of to his own. He pulled open the drawer, quickly shifting around until he found what he was looking for, and when he kneeled down next to you, his pants now on the floor, you swallowed hard when you saw that it was a nearly empty bottle of lube.

‘How did-?’

‘Why d’you think there's only two beds?’ was all he had to say, your face going beet red as you then understood why the other two were so okay with you stealing their room for the night. Your thoughts about it were quickly pushed away when he then laid down next to you instead of straddling you again, the lube popped open and his eyes only on you as you turned to him in confusion. ‘Take them off for me,’ he didn't ask, his head nodding towards his boxers as he palmed himself, and you fit perfectly between his legs as you returned the favour. He was stroking himself again the moment the fabric left his hips, the lube already spreading over his length and making him let out the odd groan just at seeing you before him. ‘I want you to ride me, love.’

‘But… won't I be too heavy?’ There was that nervousness again, you didn't want to ruin this for him even though he was a grown man and could certainly handle you, and he made that very apparent as he reached forward, cupped your ass with a bite of his lip, and pulled you forward until you were completely seated in his lap.

‘I've wanted to see you like this for months, you gunna let a little thing like that get in the way of this?’ He didn't say it to be pushy in the face of his own needs, or to get you to continue even if you were uncomfortable, his words instead making you see that when he said he wanted you he truly meant all of you; while you were out there comparing yourself to the people in his life, he was only thinking of and looking at you, and suddenly you didn't feel so self-conscious as you gazed down at the man who wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

‘No,’ you said honestly, and he kissed you again as he started to finger you open for him. You grinded down on him, let him touch you without reserve as you did the same, your hands becoming acquainted with his strong arms, stronger chest, and the bit of softness around his own belly from all the drinking and diner foods. He arched against you until you could feel the muscle underneath, he could probably pick you up easily he was more than likely trying to get across, and you almost wished you had the courage to ask him to fuck you against the wall.

Maybe next time.

You whined at the loss when he was satisfied once again, although you didn't have to wait this time as he lined himself up to you, his silent plea for you to move showing in his eyes as you slowly sank down until you were seated on him again. You shivered as you adjusted to him, Johnson losing composure for just a moment as he brought you to his chest, his mouth sucking marks into your skin as his hands trailed southward over you until he found a comfortable place on your hips. 

He didn't ask you to move, just waited patiently for your strength to return, and you didn't want to keep him waiting any longer as you started to ride him. It was good, damn better than you'd dared to imagine on the nights where you were lonely and fantasized about what this could be like, none of them comparing as he helped you along when your legs already started to get tired.

‘Don't stop,’ you pleaded with him, and he gladly took over for you as you let out a broken moan and braced yourself against his chest. You both panted into each other's shoulders, desperate to be close after so long of being silent about it, the pictures on his section of wall once again catching you off guard as you realized you could see them pretty clearly from his bed. Just as you'd been thinking of him, you bit back a surprisingly lewd moan when you imagined him doing the same, staring up at you from afar as he got off-

‘Every time you'd go I'd come back here,’ he murmured against your skin, his eyes also on the wall as he got you to roll your hips along with him. ‘I'd put up a new picture, and I'd think about all the things I wanted to say and do to you when you were looking at everyone else.’

‘I was afraid, you're too good for me,’ you finally admitted, the stimulations from the slowness of your movements starting to make you keen.

‘Now I'm gunna be good to you.’ He got you to sit back so you were on full display for him, a bit of energy coming back to you as you ran your hand down your chest to your stomach before touching yourself. He loved the sight of you feeling so good, the way you clenched around him making him thrust up a little harder each time you sank down on him again, and when he went from mouthing the words to finally saying them you couldn't hold it in; you rode him in earnest, Johnson fucking you through that final stretch until you came, and even as he followed after you and you collapsed against his chest he didn't stop, his arms tight around you as he kissed you despite the need for air.

‘I love you,’ he repeated even though he’d said it so many times, but you could gladly hear it a hundred times more as you said them back to him. ‘Just a little more, don't want this to end,’ he breathed, and you let him go until he was satisfied for the third time, although this time you undeniably were too, if you did say so yourself.

‘I don't either.’ You laid your cheek against his chest, your thighs shaking from the effort as you let them rest, his hand rubbing up and down your back as your heart rate went back to normal. ‘...Why didn't you ever say anything? I mean, I did think you were joking at first when you asked me for that drink, but even when we kept hanging out you never told me.’

‘I thought me bringing you on all those dates was tell enough,’ he figured, and you had to admit that they were pretty date-y locations most of the time, since they were all personal to him and the others never tagged along, but you hadn't wanted to hope this tall, very handsome stranger was choosing you. ‘Matty did say I should suck it up and spit it out, his words,’ he chuckled, and you laughed as you tried to get off of him. ‘Where d’you think you're going? Already told you I'm not letting you go tonight.’

Your face flushed deep, you had thought that had been only his way of talking dirty to you in the moment, but you were starting to catch on that Johnson was just very open about what he wanted, there was no second guessing here. ‘I don't really like the idea of sleeping next to where your friends constantly have sex, especially not if I’m seeing them tomorrow morning,’ you confessed quietly, your eyes avoiding the bed like they were already there, and he chuckled deep from his chest as he kissed you quickly and helped you sit up. 

‘Then we'll go out, don't gotta hit the river til next month.’ You felt empty again as you parted, but his hands leading you to the bathroom to clean you up after your sudden but very much enjoyed activities helped you feel a little better. The shower was quick, Johnson washing you carefully and whispering everything he loved about you as he worked, washing away every insecurity that’d plagued you all your life. When you were done you almost ended up pressed into the tiled wall, like he really couldn’t keep his hands off of you now that he had you, you were his.

While getting redressed, you didn’t have much of a choice but to wear the same clothes from the floor, so you sat down and pulled your shirt back over your head as he pulled out a fresh shirt from his drawer. It was mesmerizing watching him dress just as much as it was to undress, every curve of his body drawing you in more than any Pinup ever could; you couldn’t believe that he was all yours, since when were you ever that lucky? You couldn’t be sure, but you were very certain that the sight of him looking down at you while he did up his pants and tucked in his undershirt was pretty equal to winning the lottery.

‘Where do you want to go? If they’ve got the car for their own reasons, you can’t really take me for a ride tonight,’ you wondered as you stood, Johnson leaving his shirt unbuttoned as he sauntered over to you and pulled you close.

‘We could always take your car,’ he suggested with a small grin, the idea sounding wonderful as he grabbed his pack of smokes from his dresser and lit one up, ‘could grab a drink or two, go to your house this time.’

He tasted like nicotine as you went in for another kiss, the hand on your waist giving you a gentle squeeze as you pulled away and blew his stolen smoke out of the corner of your mouth. ‘That sounds like a perfect date.’

[meanbossart]

Asks about VaM, art advice, and miscellaneous stuffs

HI! Real quick please refrain from referring to Sad Sack as S/S for the uh... Obviously reasons LOL We call it "sads" for short!

If what you're asking for are recommendations for a website to host that kind of thing, Neocities, Twitter, Itchio and as you mentioned AO3 are all perfectly good options! Patreon too (depending on how gnarly you're planning on getting) but I'd suggest keeping that as a secondary host option because I don't think it lends itself super well for getting your work circulating. I believe Bluesky allows that kind of thing too, but I'm not too sure since I don't use it.

Now, If you're asking about public reaction rather than guidelines, anywhere you go you might find people that don't jive with the work you do 🤷 just be upfront about the type of content you're making right off the bat to avoid having anyone stumble upon it by accident to the best of your abilities, otherwise, I wouldn't worry too much. I know we're constantly exposed to examples of overwhelming harassment and "dogpilling" happening to others but... Truth be told, most of us won't ever get to the size/internet level of fame where we experience that. I think the threat is a little bit... Overstated, nowadays. Not to mention that most of the time people are getting harassment for things that have nothing to do with their work, and rather relating to their behavior and attitudes. Play smart, be responsible, and be honest! Whatever comes next is in god's hands LOL

Thank you for the ask! Not sure I was of much help 😅 but frankly when you're just starting out it's best to focus on getting the work done first and just throwing it out there, wherever it may be. You can worry about technicalities like that later!

I GOT YOU MAN the full sketch is now up on my patreon!

YES AND YES WHETHER IT BE STORIES OR ART OF DU DROW AND YOUR CHARACTERS SLAMMING PINTS TOGETHER BE MY GUEST PLEASE

I love seeing everyone's take on my weirdo so much, anything is honestly welcomed!

AW DUDE thank you so much! Especially for suffering through the mammoth of a story that ANE turned into - writing has never been my strongest point so I'm always shocked to hear from people that enjoy it 🥲

About the booze question, honestly I'm not picky at all, I usually go by price and by that I mean whatever is cheapest LOL but I prefer a dry white as far as types go.

You only have to pay for it once! You get a code that unlocks the software and all of it's features and you're free to cancel your subscription after that. At some point the code might change or there might be an update that requires subscribing again - but that seems like a very rare occurrence so I wouldn't worry about it.

OH NO I HAVE DEFINITELY TRACED MY OWN REFERENCE BEFORE, but not entire poses! When something is challenging I'll make a point of drawing it out the usual way.

I can remember a couple of instances from Nick and mine's comic where I traced pictures I took of myself, just as a time saving measure. Again like I said in the post, there are several ways to employ tracing your own material that is perfectly acceptable. I have also traced bare-bones 3D backgrounds that I made for the same reasons.

I know you specifically asked about tracing when something's complicated, but I still wanted to be upfront to demystify the practice under different circumstances. The rule of thumb is to never use it when you know it would be inhibiting your skill development!

Happy to hear you wanted to pick up the skill! I definitely understand the urge too LOL since playing BG3 and becoming so invested in the stories and characters my art has improved a ton, simply from forcing me out of my usual style and making me want to capture different moods and scenarios - finding something you're passionate to draw is, frankly a great damn start.

I replied to a bunch of asks asking for pointers and advice a while back, one of the questions was very similar to yours and I still stand behind the advice I gave then. Hopefully you can find something helpful here! https://meanbossart.tumblr.com/post/740543514692173824/some-art-advice-asks-ive-been-meaning-to-reply

HMMM I don't usually think of myself as the best teacher/tutorial guy, but funnily enough I can think of a few things about this topic that I could elaborate on lol. If I do that in the near future, I'll put it up on my patreon (for free as with everything else.)

If there are any specific things about it that you (and anyone else who would be interested in it, for that matter) find challenging and would like for me to focus on, let me know!

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That's all for now folks, and as usual thank you so much to everyone who's left a nice compliment, word of encouragement or funny tidbit in my inbox as well! I can't reply to you all individually, but I see and read all the messages I get c:

HAVE A LOVELY REST OF YOUR WEEK