#it's like ''yes we are hiring but not YOU specifically lol''

[adorablebanite]

Were your Durge/Tavs inspired by characters from other movies/shows/literature?

Lilla's neither; she's more of a "side character," but here are her biggest inspirations!

Judge Anderson (DREDD): Lilla is a Knowledge domain cleric - supported by her Patron Bane (introduced by Gortash, of course). Anderson can read minds, and Knowledge clerics have the same ability, as well as other Banite-adjacent abilities like Command, and Dominate Person. She's obviously going to be different than the other Banite cleric NPC's in game, as her job is to specifically protect Gortash (she protecc but also attacc).

I wanted her to be bookish, prim(in public👀), and an over achiever - essentially a prime example of professionalism, as the boss is trying to be a politician 😈

I really like Judge Anderson's innocent competence, so I wanted to keep that Lilla's front-facing demeanor; even when her arc does stray away from the good moral alignment after being hired on by Gort - in which her moral alignment clearly gets influenced by him, but she realizes later it's literally just in her blood to be a Banite!

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Lee (Secretary) -I love the innocent-to-confident character arc, (as you can probably see by the Judge Anderson arc as well,) but let's be real, Lilla was originally created for a smut so I could waggle my brainworms, and the Secretary holds a special place in my heart.

The movie greatly inspired Awaiting Further Instruction, and I really enjoyed having Lilla go through an adventure of finding her nature, with the help of Gortash, of course. You've got the pathetic Dom, and the pathetic Sub, and while they're both actually pathetic, they find a security in each other's world that even though it's unconventional and twisted, it brings them comfort.

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GoGo (Kill Bill): obviously vastly different from Anderson, so you can kind of see how the arc goes - and while I don't make Lilla nearly as sadistic as GoGo, she still does have a little streak of it when it comes to anyone who is threatening, insulting, or impeding Gortash in whatever way.

Lilla's demeanor can quickly switch from prim/professional/sweet, to taking personal pleasure in dispatching a rival for Gortash, depending on the level of the crime. Like him, she has a personal perception of justice that greatly aligns with his, and if she has been sicced on someone who has wronged him, she will sentence them accordingly. This can range from playful banter/underhanded threats and blackmail, to abruptly decapitating a goblin mid-sentence because he said something uncouth about Gortash.

My vision for her was the "loyal sidekick of the mob boss," and I find it extremely fun giving her a more interesting role than "yes master, no master," specifically for smut purposes.

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Scleritas Fel (BG3) : LOL Yes, my initial idea was: "Why can't Gortash have a little minion like Scleritas Fel?" And here we are 😅🫣

I didn't want to rip off the concept of Scleritas directly, but Lilla is still intrinsically tied to Bane because he made her - not like Bhaal made Durge - but more of a "secret, experimental ritual commissioned by Bane, conducted in the outskirts of Calimport where some Banites conceived a person designed to seek out and serve his Chosen, but she ended up being too loveable and the Banites couldn't stand treating her like Banites should, so they wiped her memory, sent her to an orphanage, and offed themselves in shame," kind of way.

Obviously Bane was also ashamed by his botched experiment, so they have a shaky relationship, but that's all been settled in the fic 😇

Ultimately I wanted to write something fun for Gortash - and give him something nice! Lilla is very nice, and likes him very much (bordering on obsession), and is actually very useful in many ways beyond smutty silliness! She does a lot of research, spies, transcribes, organises dossiers/blackmail material, and pretty much oversees his political campaign and businesses (legal and otherwise) while he does the big-boy-chosen work.

I'll do one about Destri (Durge) soon too 🥰

Now that I've prattled on, I'd love to hear about other people's inspiration for their OCs, if they have them!!

@melvinthedepressedrobot

@kaava

@obuoliukai

@walkerdraws

@ennissg

@beecreeper

@newtia

@sankttealeaf

(I have to rush now but I want to hear about everyone so please tag me if you end up doing this and you're not already tagged so I can see it!! 🙏🙏🙏)

[theflyingfeeling]

yes it's just me whining about the same thing for the billionth time, pls just scroll past nothing new to see here 👋

[oblique-lane]

Sniper tf2 mentality

Today I will be talking about Sniper's personality because I often see people portraying him DRASTICALLY different abd I wanted to understand what's going on and why all of the interpretations are correct (in my opinion)

Let's name the most prominent thesises:

Sniper is shy and introverted.

Sniper is unhinged and bloodlusty and is annoyed by people.

Why do i think that these aren't exactly contradictory?

I think at this point it's safe to assume Sniper is autistic (I mean lol this is easier to prove than to disprove). As an autistic person myself, I can see why he could be perceived like that.

Sniper doesn't talk to people and mostly observes them and the situation. Very in tune with his profession. That, however, might be perceived as being shy or very introverted or both. People love talking and expect others to share information, yet Sniper never says half of the things he's thinking about.

But let me tell you, it's NOT because he's shy. If he was shy, it would show in his body language as being stiff and rigid. He's not. His body is pretty relaxed and takes enough space. Still crosses his arms, but in a "don't bother me" way, not a "please don't judge me" way.

He's just disinterested.

I relate to it a lot in real life! People at my job think I'm too shy to talk to them, but no, I just DON'T WANT TO. I'm not scared of any if you, there's just nothing to talk about. I don't know your business, you don't know mine, our interests don't collide. If I talked to you about my interests you wouldn't listen anyway. Small talk? Ew, are y kidding me?

However, I like to listen. I'm an extrovert personally (unexpected huh) so I love being around people, but it doesn't mean I have to takk to them. I'll just sponge the information they are babbling about so I know my community better. When I meet new group of people where everyone knows eachother but me, I'm not going to feel awkward, it's perfectly fine to observe.

Sniper seems to fit into this kind of behaviour too. So he's not shy in a social anxiety sense".

NOW LET'S TALK ABOUT THE BLOODLUST!!

Yeah you all know his in-game voicelines. You feel either horny or assaulted after he rolls these sadistic words on his tongue. Yes I said sadistic, are you gonna argue?

"We professionals don't give speeches we just take a shot" he says in the comics. OH YEAH? IS THAT WHY YOU HAVE THE MOST FUCKING VOICELINES OF ALL OF THEM??

Have you ever noticed how much attention he puts into saying how 'professional' he is? Like, yeah no shit, they all kinda are. But why, unlike other mercs, he insists on calling himself a professional with standards and morals, detached from emotions and feelings, so much???

There's literally no reason to be ashamed of being a killer and to admit that you enjoy killing people, you were hired to Mann Co. for that specifically!!!

My assumption: it's a personal disgust towards himself and his anger issues. I've said it before already and I will again.

His so called 'shadow side' that he suppresses so much. It loves to cause people pain, it loves releasing the inner anger, it is being feral and impulsive in nature. Sniper cannot let himself be like that for whatever reason. He's already built a clear picture of what he is in his head and he doesn't want to destroy that.

The only time he allows himself to be a monster is in the battle because it comes naturally. However, when it's not a situation of adrenaline rush, when people want to talk about his persona face to face, he starts to defend himself and bury his face under the lies he believes in.

And THIS is anxiety. To be scared to be truly perceived. Not like many people tried, but I assume he wouldn't like it.

Bro really thinks he doesn't have feelings lmaoooo imagine being so emotionally immature the only way to process your emotions is to shot a human dead.

So, is Sniper anxious? Yes. Is this social anxiety? No, he's not shy. Is he an unhinged murderer? Yes. Does he identify as one? No. It's really a little bit more complicated than the two thesises from the beginning.

He's a person. Obviously not mentally healthy. High dimensional. Can be potentially broken or healed in terms of a good character study.

I might be very wrong though and most of the assumptions are simply guessing by grasping the patterns, but usually when I analyze someone like thus, it turns out mostly right. But correct me if you feel like it.

[be-my-ally]

Big Bunny

Playboy Bunny Reader x Elvis on the Playboy jet request

it might be 3:30am here, i may have work today at 9 and i may have to proof read over this again tomorrow but still, here, have a bunny themed fic - very apt for a slightly (at least for where i am) belated good friday gift (for those who celebrate and a spring themed passover/ramadan/weekend gift for everyone else) !!

I genuinely did not expect to end up doing nearly as much research for this as I did - and therefore there ended up being significantly more back story than I anticipated for what I had planned to be a short smutty one shot lol so… here’s a p ridiculous 9.8k fill xx 

pairing: jet bunny reader x 1973-4 elvis (yes we are going that specific this time) - early big daddy era.

summary: freshly hired shy new playboy bunny reader and elvis get up to some fun away from the other passengers on Hugh Hefner's private plane, the aptly named 'Big Bunny'.

warnings: 18+, 18+, penetrative sex (p in v), oral (v receiving), lil bit of fingering, gratuitous use of the term 'bunny' and all accompanying euphemisms, elvis (as always in my writing) refers to himself as daddy.

wc: 9.8k

You nervously adjust your scarf around your neck; it’s windy, and you’re worried about your hair—that its carefully styled easy look might be ruined by the breeze. You roll from one foot to the other in anticipation; you can already feel the leather of the new, tall boot starting to rub behind your knee, and you’re hopeful for the chance to switch it out for your regular heels on board. The other girls are quiet, and that’s how you can tell that they too are nervous or excited—anticipatory perhaps. Usually, they would be chattering away right now—at least, that’s your experience from the last few flights you’d worked. But for some reason, the knowledge of this special guest had made them all fall silent, worrying their scarves or hair, and checking one another’s lipsticks, even more so than when Hugh was on board. Perhaps it was, like the Bunny bible said, because there was the knowledge that you were all representatives of the brand, and that was even more true for someone who wasn’t the owner of the brand, or perhaps it was simply because it wasn’t just any boring old investor but Elvis Presley flying on board today.

You’re all too young to remember much of him in his early prime or his dizzying launch to success, but you know that every girl in this line-up had watched the ’68 special, probably at a similar formative age to you, and had an experience; it had been impossible not to. You had been on the cusp of being 16 and were utterly gobsmacked and captivated by the television set as you watched him gyrate in a full black leather suit. Your mind had gone blank, and you couldn’t have told anyone what your father had said about it—you honestly couldn’t hear him because you were so shocked and excited by what you were seeing. Suddenly, you understood. You’d all discussed the marvel of the possibilities of the use of the satellites for the Aloha show only a few months ago, and you knew you weren’t the only bunny in the group who still found him almost alarmingly attractive. The concept, therefore, of being loaned out to him with the plane made you more than a little nervous. Another fragment of your anxiety for this flight also revolved around your new uniform—you weren’t comfortable in it yet; a teeny leatherette dress that somehow seemed far more revealing than your corset had ever seemed. Perhaps because it felt less like a costume in some way, perhaps because it simply was so unlike anything you would wear in day-to-day life—the over-the-knee boots were uncomfortable still too. 

It’s unclear how you’d become so attached to the little corset costume when you were still so new to the plane and to this life as a whole. You’d been well-trained and ready to use your newfound, extensive bar knowledge while working as a table bunny in the club in LA. Although you had hoped that you might be spotted and bumped up to a more senior position in a little while—that one day you might be able to work your way up to the mansion or maybe even be handpicked to be a playmate—it all seemed so glamorous, and the attention was so exciting. You’d never dreamed you would, after only working a month, be handpicked as a jet bunny. It had been one of the most exciting moments of your life. Since then, you’ve not been flying for very long, although the training had been intense and your first flight had only been two weeks ago. And it had been a pretty slow start, with just Hugh and a couple of colleagues on board. They had their favourites, and while you had been chatted to and flirted with—treated well—you had also been mostly ignored.

Elvis, as far as you could tell, didn’t have favourites; he hadn’t requested anyone in particular from the thirty or so girls on regular rotation for the jet, and it made you relieved to think that you were on a mostly even keel with the other girls. You’d gossiped about it as you packed your bags onto the plane before you’d all ended up where you were now: standing in a row waiting for him to pull up, having been given word that he was mere minutes away. When you looked down at the other girls, you couldn’t help but wonder why, as one man with a small entourage for the flight, he really needed the bunny equivalent of five stewardesses. But, you think to yourself, at least he did because, as the most junior of the bunch, you definitely would have been the first to be bumped from the flight.

It’s only another few minutes until his long, sleek, white Cadillac pulls up in front, another car close behind, and his long legs are immediately sliding out of the car, almost before its even come to a complete stop. He seems eager to be away. He’s arguing with someone and barely acknowledges any of you as he starts to storm up the stairs towards the jet entrance—clearly familiar with the plane already. It becomes pretty clear pretty quickly that he wasn’t arguing with someone physically with him but was instead recounting what had been discussed on the phone in the car—you could hear him swearing as he went inside, 

"I fuckin’ asked her to come out here with me, and now she’s being all cold, just then she was sayin’ she don’t wanna see me -" You can’t hear anything more, and you look down the row before Darla in front shrugs her shoulders and starts greeting the other couple of men still coming out of the car, and in the car behind, there were around a dozen guys in total, no women other than you five, which wasn’t unusual on the jet but wasn't entirely expected either.

A moment later, Elvis is hurrying back down the stairs, panting slightly as he comes. He arrives back in front of you, the last in line, with a series of apologies.

"Lord, where are my manners? I’m so sorry, girls. Hello, nice to meet ya; well, aren’t you all pretty little things?" You blush, and he catches your eye, winking at you as he presses a kiss to your cheek. He smiles at the rest of them, and Darla launches into her ‘Welcome to Big Bunny’ spiel as she directs him back up the way he just came. Your mind is racing as you follow them all up the stairs, and you’re more than a little distracted as you close the door and conduct the safety checks. Does that mean something? That he singled you out?

You weren’t meant to be his main assistant; of course, the main focus for today was keeping him happy, but you’d been specifically told that your purpose was to make sure the other passengers felt that they were getting similar attention. You didn’t have the experience, as Darla had told you, to understand how to deal with men like him. Those that think they’re special or that just because you’re wearing a bunny outfit they have some sort of claim on you, that you’re all the same and your centrefold is owed to them. And also, she’d flippantly added, you were still very inexperienced, and first and foremost she had to consider the brand. Now as you watch her take his arm up the stairs, you think you might be understanding her motivations a little more; her hips swaying more than they usually would. But you can’t say you blame her or that her other observations were wrong. You were inexperienced, both in flying and with men. But, as you’re locking the door shut and heading around to fetch towels and drinks before the pilots engage the engine, you can feel his eyes on you, and you think, I know what that means. 

It’s a pretty long flight for a domestic flight—four or five hours, depending on the route the pilot takes—so you have plenty of time to get to know the passengers and ensure they’re all well taken care of. You’ve heard rumours from some of the other girls that this kind of flight can often go one of two ways: either the men are rowdy, raucous, and handsy, or they’re quiet, appreciative, but distant. You had assumed Elvis and his entourage would be the former, but from the way he quickly gets himself situated and settled in the forward compartment, you’re inclined to believe it will be the latter. You can’t help but notice he’s sequestered himself in the back; a couple of the men are with him, but the rest are a series of seats away. It seems like even the inner circle has an inner circle.

Before serving the drinks, you have a chance to look over at him. Trying to be inconspicuous, you’re surprised at how large he is. You’ve never realised how tall he really is, but he’d remained a few inches taller than you even in your heels, and while the plane is more spacious and furnished less compactly than the average, it still serves to make him seem bigger in contrast to the environment. He seems to take up more space than his body needs too, like his presence needs allowance; he looks incapable of staying on one seat, and the way he spreads his legs, his knees falling open, it’s like he doesn’t even realise he might be taking up more than his fair share of space. 

You don’t realise how long you’ve been standing there, peering behind a partition wall, pretty much directly at his spread thighs. Until you move your eyes up, tracking up his body past his famously large belt to his open collared shirt, through which you can see tiny wisps of chest hair peeking through. You assess how his shirt is lying on him, clinging but well-tailored, and his trousers too, tight around his thighs and well-fitted on his waist but equally well-tailored, looking comfortable and well-fitted. Your eyes continue to roam over him until they come to rest on his face, and you realise he’s been watching you look at him. He’s smirking at you, clearly used to the attention but perhaps still flattered that he inspires it, and winks through his lavender-coloured glasses. You immediately duck back, taking a moment to gather yourself from the embarrassment of being caught out, before heading back out with the first tray of drinks.

It wasn’t your place to be, but you couldn’t help but be pleased when he showed himself not to be the type to start demanding wildly complicated cocktails—in fact, rolling his eyes when one of the men, Red, perhaps his name was, asked for a mai tai—and at his clear desire to remain sober, simply requesting a Pepsi. You take a breath, plastering your customer service smile on, determined to ignore any embarrassment, and swing around with the tray. Praying you don’t trip or spill anything in front of him.

Thankfully, you make it around without consequence, your thorough club training coming into play and keeping you steady even when there’s a mild bump as the plane engines start to roar. He grins up at you when you hand him the drink, and you can’t help but return it, beaming at him, forgetting your practised coquettish expression. You have to head back, sit down for a moment while the pilots announce your takeoff, and try not to grimace, knowing that your face can be seen from the compartment, at the feeling of taking off. You’re fine in the air, but that whooshing feeling of the plane jetting forward and up, the moment where you can feel the balance of the wings against the air as the engine battles its way up, still sends a wave of anxiety over you. Maggie brushes her hand over yours where it lies on the little armrest between the steward seats, and you thankfully grasp it, taking deep breaths. Once the pilot has announced you are officially flying and will be for approximately four more hours, you’re pleased you can finally stand up again and relax somewhat.

You’re not really needed for much for a little while, so you bounce about, chatting and keeping them company, talking with some of the other girls as you help to serve more drinks and food, and setting up the games tables when asked. Elvis has demanded the theatre be set up, so you arrange that, praying that when you return to the room he’ll have picked one of the latest cinematic releases and not, as you feared, one of the many adult releases available. You’re not sure you could keep a straight face if you had to watch him watch Deep Throat; it would just be too much to bear.

So you’ve avoided the lounge by staying in the forward compartment and helping the men there. Before you were sent on a mission to see if there was any peanut butter on board, a special request had apparently been made, but whether it had been complied with was yet to be seen. When Michelle, one of the more senior girls, suddenly appeared beside you, grabbing your arm and speaking in a hurried, hushed tone, she told you that you really ought to change. You panic for a second that something was wrong with your dress, but she’s quick to assure you that it was nothing like that. But Elvis had taken her aside and mentioned that although he "love[s] your yittle skirts, like yer spies or somethin’," he was "missin’ them little bunny outfits" and had left that with her. He hadn’t specifically requested anyone should change, but she’d successfully read between the lines of the very obvious hint and was, therefore, suggesting that you, Daisy, and Maggie change into your bunny corsets. You’d all planned for this possibility, so it wasn’t entirely unexpected, but you were still slightly surprised. You’d not been given the impression that Elvis had been that bothered by the theme of the plane, of you, but rather was utilising the plane for the luxury and convenience of the travelling experience. But if he was requesting your bunny outfits, clearly he was more into it than you thought.

It’s not long after that you do as requested and emerge from the powder room in your little patented corset teddy, the black silk highlighting your complexion and the little collar and bow emphasising your neckline. You were slightly annoyed that despite your careful packing, your little cottontail puff had been flattened, and so you’d had to spend way too long fluffing it to bring it back to life. This also meant that you were the last to emerge, and there was no way you could deny noticing that Elvis himself was sitting back in the forward compartment, turned so that he was practically facing the powder room door, watching you exit with a satisfied smirk on his face. You try to ignore him, listening to the conversations happening around you and trying to anticipate everyone’s needs. In your absence, more substantial snacks have been served, and you can see the remnants of some sort of peanut butter sandwich situation dotted around the room, so clearly that had been found too. There’s now a discussion happening about whether you should turn on the lights in the disco room or wait a little while to eat first. Eventually, it’s decided a proper meal is imperative at some point in the flight, but that right now? They wanted music.

So you all move down the plane. You end up walking directly behind Elvis, and when the plane bumps up and down briefly in the tiniest spot of turbulence, you trip into his back. You right yourself with help from one of his arms, apologising, but you’re flustered. It’s only worse when he turns to you.

"No need to be sorry, doll; you can fall into my arms whenever you like." It was one thing to imagine how he felt, but to be able to remember the feel of him, even from behind, even from just a brief moment of contact, was a heady feeling. Especially when he felt just as you’d imagined he would—soft but firm and broad. So broad. Walking behind him like this also made you nervous for another reason: it made you feel as if your movement down towards the intimate bedroom quarters at the end might be signalling something. The cosiness of the rooms between -- the disco and the lounge, perhaps reflective of the internal struggle you’re facing; the disco the butterflies in your belly.

You know you won’t be able to prevent meeting his eye again. The thought worries you; you’ve been around attractive men before, of course, but never one that, just by looking at him once, has made you feel like you would risk giving up everything for a few hours of fun. Lose everything you have simply for the pleasure of touching him. Maybe this was what Darla was concerned about; you can see her glance over to you every now and again, checking in, and you can tell she’s a little bothered by something.

Once you’re in the disco, the girls and you are well-practised at setting it all up, making sure there are enough tracks ready to be played and that there was easy access to free-flowing drinks and bar snacks. You’re also all very used to essentially having to start the dancing yourselves, having to encourage the others to join in despite their enthusiasm in suggesting the disco. You hang back slightly, holding a tray, when Elvis lightly grasps your elbow. You jump, having not seen him come to your side, and look questioningly at him.

"Dance for me, baby?" You’re not a stripper or a go-go dancer or anything like that, but it’s not a request that’s unheard of in the clubs. And you enjoy it; you wouldn’t be in the job if you didn’t get a slight thrill from being looked at, watched, wanted. So it’s easy to agree, especially when you’ve always found it hard to ignore a man when he adds a pet name, and besides, you want to. So you do. Elvis sits himself down, and a few of the men join in, and you and Maggie and Daisy all dance around them. You prance and shimmy, and soon most of the passengers onboard are dancing around to the music that plays from the surround system.

The group cheered and laughed when Burning Love was played on the 8-track, and Elvis sang along, laughing and joking when he missed one of the high notes ("God almighty, that’s high"). You notice that after a while Elvis has disappeared back into the living area and looks like he might be close to nodding off; sat there with his head back. You suppose he must be tired—you don’t know what he was doing prior to the flight this afternoon, but you do know he was coming off of the back of a week straight of shows and heading towards another one. You again know it’s not your place, and yet you still can’t help feeling like you ought to check on him.

You head over, leaning over, and crouching in the way you’re told to, almost in a bunny dip. He blinks up at you when you touch his shoulder.

"Lord, you’re a vision." You’re taken aback and can’t do much more than crouch there, stuck in place. "Talk with me, honey?" He pats your arm, and you nod, standing upright again and looking for a place to perch. There’s nowhere for you to sit down, or perch, few seats as there were in this living area, attached to the disco, and with the other men and girls also collapsing around you, you awkwardly look around for a moment before Elvis’ hand comes out and wraps around your thigh, pulling you down onto his lap.

"Oh!"  You gasp, "Oh, I—I, uh, don’t think you’re meant to touch me, sir."

"Bunny, for the next three hours, I own you." He chuckles but removes his hands from your legs, although he makes no attempt to shift you from his lap, instead sitting further back, causing you to fall more securely onto his lap. You avoid what is sure to be judging looks from the other girls as they hand him drinks and chat with the other boys on board. You’re wrong about them watching you and judging you; of course, all the other girls are distracted, and even when they do glance over, it’s mostly to check that you, as the new girl, are still doing okay. Despite any jealousy they may be feeling about the attention he’s giving you, they still know how shocking and abrupt all of this can suddenly feel when you’re being confronted with men like him.

He’s surprised when you look shy, and you know the rumours abound—about how you’re all able to make extra cash—the private parties for the number one keyholders. But it’s not something you’re forced into just by virtue of being a bunny, and it’s not something you’ve been interested in finding out more about. Still, being perched on his firm lap, the seams of his suit rubbing against your silk tights, you can’t help but wish that you had asked more about it; found out if there were expectations. You wouldn’t want to let him down. You awkwardly sit there a moment before opening your mouth, 

“So, uh, what did you wanna talk about?” He smiles, 

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself honey.” So you do, giving him the basic information of your life, while he hmms and uh-huhs in all the right moments to show he’s listening to you. You’re starting to run out of steam and you’re about to ask him to tell you something when you’re distracted by him reaching to the side of you, jostling you a little. 

He lights a cigar, and you can feel the heat of the tip. You shift the tiniest bit; you don’t know why it’s getting you so hot. You’re suddenly grateful for the subtle but multiple layers you’re wearing. Thankful for the fact that you’ve never listened to the few girls who swear it makes more sense not to bother with panties; you’d never been convinced that it wasn’t asking for trouble—something was sure to slip or become exposed. But you also always wore a double layer of pantyhose. He grunts the tiniest bit as you bump back into his stomach, and when you pause for a moment, you can feel a dampness growing between your legs. Through all the layers, he can’t feel it, thank God, but he does murmur to you: "Lord, are you a hot little Bunny." He strokes the small of your back, and you somehow know he doesn’t just mean it in the attractive sense, but that he can feel your heat.

You wriggle back against him, thinking, - don’t waste your chance, girl; don’t do it; you may as well go for it. All of your sense of propriety is lost, and you’re suddenly completely ignorant of the happenings around you. You can feel where the rubber around the edge of the leg bands of the teddy is starting to roll, being unable to stay put on the slippery tights and causing it to fall further away from your thighs riding up. You know he can feel it too, as close as you are. And while you’re still theoretically clothed, you can feel his trouser leg better on your thigh after it rolled up; he said you were hot, but he’s burning, it feels like. You push back onto him, feeling his tummy nudge against you, and under your tail, what felt like a growing erection. You don’t know what’s come over you, where this sexual confidence, this determination, this lack of self-consciousness, has come from. You wonder if it could just be the adrenaline of being so close, but you still go with it, and you nudge your ass back to him, grinding a little.

"Don’t baby," he pushes you forward a little, with his one free hand, blowing smoke past the side of your face, and you giggle, putting on a faux deep voice.

"Don’t procrastinate; don’t articulate…" You can’t even get the words out of your mouth you’re giggling so hard, wiggling in his lap, and it sets him off too, shaking his head and murmuring against your ear.

"Lord save me, girlie, you’re trouble, ain’t ya?" He holds you still. You try, but you’re practically incoherent because you’re laughing so hard.

"If you're lookin' for..." But your laughter cuts off when he hooks a finger in the corset and strokes it down your inner thigh—somewhere that you would have slapped anyone else and whispers, 

"You came to the right place." You gasp, head going back, and his own tucking into your shoulder - he holds out the cigar, and, despite having barely lit it, rests it in the tray to the side of you so that he can use both hands to grip your waist. It’s ridiculously cheesy, and you don’t want to think about how many times and with how many girls he might have used similar lines, or how easy it must be for him.

"You want me, Bunny?" You still don’t know if you should be playing hard to get or if you should just give in to the inevitability of it all. "Can feel your little tail pressin’ into me - little puffy thing. Twitching ‘gainst me;" You wrinkle your nose cutely at his words, and he smiles into your neck: "Even a little twitchin’ bunny nose!" he presses a finger to it, and the strokes down to your lips. He rests it there for a second, "Do you wanna do this, bun?" You decide you may as well give in and nod—there's no point trying to play it cool when you’re sitting on his lap. You open your mouth, trying to catch his finger in your teeth as he fools around with you. He pulls you around, so one of your bent knees is now pressed against him and your other is resting on the seat, facing him. You shiver, loving how his sturdy hands manhandle you. You lean forward, as if to kiss him, when he stills you, 

"Baby, we’re surrounded." You glance up, confused expression on your face, and a question in your eyes: Why would it matter? They all know the score. He shakes his head. "It’s your job isn’t it? You can’t - we shouldn’t?" You shrug your shoulders, he’s technically right and mere minutes ago you’d been worried about it yourself, but... It’s also not completely true to say that you would be discouraged from doing this with him.

"Say doll, how’d’ya - how’d’ya feel about joinin’ me?" Your heart flips, you glance around, but it appears the other girls are either preoccupied or purposefully avoiding looking at you. Plausible deniability. You’re frozen, and he stands up, pushing off of his lap, and leaves without looking back at you, only stopping at the door to the bedroom to call back,

"You coming or what?" So sure that you’ll follow him in. You glance around, and only Darla catches your eye. You’re wide-eyed and panicked at being caught, but she looks at you for a moment before nodding slightly and winking as she turns away. Somehow, it untangles the ball of anxiety that you didn’t realise was holding you so tense. Seconds later, you stand up, clearing the empty glasses from the tables around you, when Michelle swoops in, taking them out of your hands and nudging you with her hip towards the bedroom. Right then. You follow where Elvis had gone only a minute or so ago, and you cross past the little faux wood door into the bedroom. You look around but find that he’s already in the bathroom—perhaps so certain that you would follow that he didn’t even need to check that you had come in.

You sit anxiously on the big, round, fur-covered bed as you wait for him to reappear. You cross your legs before immediately uncrossing them and standing up—wondering if it was too presumptuous to be sitting there waiting for him. A moment later, leaning against the wall, you change your mind, deciding to sit on the edge again. It really did make the most sense. And while you didn’t want to make it seem like you were assuming something, you doubted he’d invited you back here to play checkers. He comes out and watches you for a brief second before coming over to stand in front of you, mere inches apart, so you’re forced to crane your neck up to look at him.

You’re a little skittish, and he can tell by the way you tremble when his hand comes up to touch your shoulder; he leans forward as if to kiss you, and you pull back. He pauses. 

"What’s the matter, little Bunny? Why are’ya so twitchy now?" He doesn’t want to force himself, but he also can tell you want him, even before you willingly followed him here. He also knows that you must know the score—you can’t be that innocent in your role—and you must understand what he’s asking of you.

"I’m, I’m just -- it’s just a little surreal, you’re Elvis Presley. I don’t know how to, I've never been with anyone famous." He smiles, thankful that he hadn’t misread the situation — god forbid what the newspapers would have said about that if it had leaked: Elvis forces himself onto Playboy Bunny, BANNED from Hefner’s jet. It doesn’t bear thinking about. So he does the one thing he knows he can do well — can do so well that most women forget their worries and tilts your chin up to kiss you. He brackets your body with his thighs and cups your face in both hands. He’s masterful at it, knowing all the right moves,  just the right amount of tongue forced into you, mapping your mouth. His lips are so soft, and his little nibbling bites on your lower lip hurt just the right amount for you to be totally consumed by his actions. He nudges you to move further up when you break apart, and you shimmy up a little, your legs coming up so that only your ankles are not on the bed. He presses one knee between your legs, balancing so he can move forward enough to kiss your cheek, his own high cheekbones rubbing against your face, and whisper, 

"I’m just a man, hon, just like any other — don’t, don’t worry ‘bout it." He leans over and you’re forced onto your back, his hand catching you and lowering you down gently onto the fur coverlet. You lean up to kiss the exposed part of his neck, your nose nudging against his high collar. 

"I, uh, god, I haven’t been around that many men in general — not like this, so that doesn’t actually make me feel a whole lot better. " You respond quietly. He pauses where his hand had been starting to fiddle with the zipper on the back of your corset. Pulling himself up to look you in the eyes. 

"You, have - you have been with a man though? Right Doll?" You nod, frantically, you might be nervous but god don’t let him stop now. 

"Yes - yes, just, just only the one." He moans on top of you, clearly liking the answer. You feel the zipper come down, and your chest is finally allowed to expand properly again, free from the restrictive boning. You suddenly panic, holding the garment close to your chest as you force him back a little. He rolls sideways, onto his elbow, to watch you; 

"What’sthe matter baby?" He looks concerned as you force yourself up into a sitting position, 

"Uh, could you - could you just close your eyes or something while I take this off?" He frowns, 

"Well, sure, but… I don’t think you need to worry ‘bout modesty right now." You smile nervously back, trying for a blasé air — 

"No, no, I know it’s just — it would just make me feel better." He looks at you, clutching the corset teddy to your chest. He nods, starting to close his eyes and you let out a sigh of relief, immediately standing up and wriggling out of it. You’re bent over, folding the fabric over itself when he starts to talk, 

"I ain’t got a problem making you comfortable, babe, but if it’s about them little cottontails stuffed down your top I already know." You pause. Whirling around to see him peeking through his lashes at you. You forget to be shy, stood there topless, braless in nothing but your pantyhose and heels and you put your hands on your hips. 

"How on earth —“ He laughs at you, opening his eyes properly, 

"I’m not new to this game sweetheart." You can tell he’s teasing, but now he’s made you slightly worried that it's always been obvious thatyou weren’t quite as endowed as you were claiming, 

"How’d you tell though?" 

"You’re not the first girl meeting me with something stuffed down their shirt, darling, you just, sometimes you can just tell— I don’t know what you’d be stressin’ over though," He takes a moment to very obviously look you over, "they’re some pretty little tits." You’re pleased, but annoyed that he’s still decided to use the term little. 

"Well - isn’t that why! Little!" He laughs at your indignation, reaching a hand out to pull you back to him, but he can barely speak through his giggles.

"No, no, no I didn’t mean it like that." You frown, but his amusement is infectious and you find yourself also giggling - "See, see, there’s a good girl - no reason to be sore about it, much more than what you’ve got’sa waste anyway mama, you’ll see." 

He puts you back where he wanted you to start with - on your back, as leans over you. The feeling of him still being fully clothed against your chest, your near nakedness, makes you tremble - the soft silk of his shirt rubbing against your nipples. You can smell him, the slight musk of the day masked by cologne - perhaps reapplied in the bathroom a moment ago. His hair is looser than you expected it to be and it’s already starting to flop forward, it unnerves you slightly because it allows you to somehow forget who it is lying over you - the loss of that trademark making you forget that he’s practically a patented figure at this point. Until you catch sight of his blue eyes or his little curled lip and you’re reminded all over again. He strokes up from your waist to your neck and then back down, gentle fingertips dancing over your skin. He leans down to kiss you and your arm winds around his neck, pulling him closer. You’ve never felt a hunger like this. Desire like this before. You’re suddenly desperate to be closer, forgetting to play it cool you’re tugging at his shirt, 

"C’mon get this off!" He laughs at you again, but stands up, ignoring your request. You lie there on your back looking up at him as he assesses you. You can’t help but puff your chest out a little and curve your back. Then he bends to grasp your left ankle, slipping your heel off. You yelp at the unexpectedly quick motion but the relief is almost immediate. He grabs your other ankle to take the other heel off, flinging it against the wall of the plane. Then his hands are immediately going to your black tights, he tries to pull them from the ankle but quickly realises that’s getting him nowhere, unable to get a proper purchase on the slippy material. So he works his way up to the waistband, grasping it and tugging it down. His finger catches by your knee, the rough bitten edge of his nail snagging and you hear the tell-tale ripping sound of them laddering, He laughs as you groan, 

"Oh, no! Those were my last good pair; they cost me nearly seven dollars!" It only makes him laugh harder as he tears them off of you. 

"Tell you what, honey, I’ll make sure you have ten new pairs by the time we land." He throws them somewhere near the rest of your clothes and turns his attention back to your stomach, only to be surprised when he’s met with another pair of pantyhose — this time in a sheer nude. 

"Lordy! How many layers’is there?" You laugh at him, as he begins the process of rolling them down too — lifting your hips to allow them to come down easier than last time; it’s not that you don’t believe he would replace them, but just in case you’d prefer not to rip these too. 

"Not meant to be being touched am I, Mr Presley?" It’s like, as he exposes more of your skin, he can’t help himself from pausing — the tights stay rolled around your knees to allow him to kiss your thighs, or the patch of skin between your belly button and your panties. You lift your leg, allowing him to roll down the last of the hosiery. He rubs over the arch of your foot and you moan at the relief — you may be getting used to the heels now but it didn’t mean that your feet didn’t still ache as soon as they came off. He gives the same attention to the other foot, rubbing firmly, before physically pushing you up the bed. 

"Oh darling, call me Elvis." He strokes up your calves, before he stops again at your feet, "God, has anyone ever told you you’ve got real pretty sooties, Lordy these little toes are gorgeous." You wiggle them at him, you’ve never given much thought to your feet other than deciding what colour to paint your nails. He pulls your foot towards him, lifting your leg up. He kisses along the ball of it, before taking your big toe into his mouth. 

You had never, ever, been turned on by the thought of someone playing, or sucking your feet, but suddenly it’s like electricity zapping up your legs to your tummy and core — you can feel yourself growing damp just from his gentle tongue lapping around your toes and you can’t help little moans falling from your mouth. You’re normally ticklish but this time the sensation forms little jolts through your tummy, making it flip slightly, and butterflies form. He lets go with a little pop, his lips forming the perfect round little ‘O’ of suction and the warm wet heat is suddenly released, causing the air to feel colder and your feet more sensitive than ever before. When you look at him standing there, holding your ankle, caressing your calve you have a sudden flash of what it must be like to be a man — and suddenly you think you can understand why men love being sucked so much. The sight of him, his lips red, your toes wet, is overwhelmingly erotic. 

He keeps going - right up your foot, before he holds your leg up, kissing up it before he put his knees on the bed again, lowering your limb to allow him to kneel over you. He places little kisses up your thighs, and you can feel his chin rubbing against your stomach as he kisses his way up there, he uses one elbow to lean on, keeping himself somewhat horizontal, but his other hand is following his lips. 

"Time to prove it to you, little bun-bun." He whispers against your sternum, before turning his head, licking a line across your breast and capturing your nipple in his mouth. His hand reaches to squeeze your other, pinching the nipple until it hardens into a little nub. He pulls off of where he’s been sucking and blows onto you. The cool air over your wet nipple sends a jolt straight to your pussy — it’s clearly an education for you tonight since you’d also never before known how sensitive your chest really was. He laps at the other side, giving it a similar treatment, palming the breast around it. While you gasp and wiggle underneath him you can feel his length straining in his trousers, and the slight feel of his lowly buttoned shirt, allowing you to feel a slither of the hairs on his chest and tummy is enough to send your arousal into overdrive. You start tugging at his top and trying to feel around his waist to undo one of the belts that had become synonymous with his image, far more insistently than before. Demanding he takes it off, even as the words fail to make it out of your mouth alongside the moans and gasps caused by his ministrations. He pulls back, planting one last kiss on the side of your chest and laughs at you when you beg. 

"Please, gotta see you, wanna see all of you - please Elvis, dreamed about this, gotta see it." But still, he complies with your request, sitting himself up to strip off his shirt; unbuttoning the last few buttons and then standing to kick off his trousers, pulling off his belt. You stare at him. Incapable of doing anything else. He’s carrying more weight than before, especially around his middle, although he’s still clearly a man of generally slim build, padded tummy over muscle. But regardless of his weight, or maybe because of it, he’s still beautiful. You reach for him when he lies back down, stroking the hair on his head - the hair that ensures you recognise that this is no longer the slicked-back hair of his Hollywood days and that he’s no longer a boy in anyway but a man and you need only look at his chest to remind you of that. The few sparse hairs that used to be there have been joined by a collection covering his chest and stomach in a soft carpet. 

His hands move back down the sides of your body and he whispers to you, "Lift up baby," as you would while trying to undress a child to pull your panties down and off of you — throwing them god-knows-where also. You wriggle, nervous and self-conscious as he stares at you. He’s flushed pink down his face and chest, and he looks you over, assessing. He nods, clearly satisfied and smiles when you breathe a sigh of relief. You bring a hand down, and he follows with his own, going to stroke you. 

"God Bunny, you’re dripping." And it’s true, your inner thighs were already sticky with your own slick and you’re genuinely not sure you’ve ever felt this wet without having even touched yourself. He brushes over you lightly, circling your clit, before going to press a single finger into you. Your own hand rests on top of his, ostensibly as if you were guiding him, but really being dragged by him. You let out a moan as he pulls your hand down to join his, directing and tugging your finger to join his, pulling them both out and pushing them back in together as if your two hands made one. It feels wild, it’s so out there, your soft hand intertwined with his rougher fingers pressed against one another as they delve into your most intimate place. 

You’re not unused to the sensation in general but his singular finger alone was similar to two of your own and so you can feel a slight burn at your entrance, a barely-there sting that cuts through the pleasure. Like a pinch of salt atop a cookie, it only enhances the flavour — the feel andyourhips circle around as his thumb finds its way up to rub at your clit.

"Gotta make sure you’re nice and loose for me huh baby, just like a new set’a wheels gotta grease you up." You moan at his words, the objectification for some reason really doing something for you. He uses his other fingers to stroke gently at you and the tickling sensation is almost enough to tip you over the edge. He seems to hold you there for a miraculously long time, and you realise you probably ought to be trying to return the favour so you reach down to tug at his hard cock. It’s a different feel than what you were used to, you’d never been around an uncut penis before, and you didn’t really know what to do with it other than pretend that it was exactly the same as the two others you’d touched. He winces slightly when you roll your palm over before his foreskin has retracted back causing you to roll the skin around, pinching him as you try. He bats your hand out of the way, pumping himself. You take note and recreate his actions as best you can, and you know you’ve hit the sweet spot when his own hips jerk and his hand tightens around your wrist. He pulls his fingers out from you, dragging your hand back with him and flings your arm away, before going back down with three fingers, he prods them at your entrance, testing the boundary before slowly sinking them in. You whine at him, panting, 

"Please, god, Elvis, you gotta, I’m ready for you, I swear I’m ready for you," he pulls his fingers out, and pushes your hand away from his cock, rolling you firmly onto your back and kneeling himself up again. 

"Ok, Ok, Bunny, ok, I hear ya, I can feel you’re ready for me, just, just didn’t wanna hurt you, just wanna make you feel good little Bunny." He pulls your hips towards him and lines himself up. 

He thrusts into you, pulling you onto him and you whine as you feel his sticky head stretching you open. Despite your claims of being ready for him it has been a while. His stomach is resting on yours, his tummy pressing down on you. It’s almost like he’s smothering you, he’s entirely enveloping you. His hands are holding your waist, bracketing you to him. If it were anyone else you think you might find it claustrophobic, so close together that your breath is mingling, you can see his pores, feel his belly button. But for some reason it just makes you want even more of him, getting as close as humanely possible, desperate for however much you can get. His taste, his smell, his everything. 

"Oh god," as he pushes in further, devastatingly slowly, "Tight as a fucking virgin aren’t ya… you sure you haven’t still got your cherry? Sure I’m not about to - ah - pop it ‘gain?" You moan, trying to relax your breathing from its quickened state as you adjust to him inside you. He moves one of his hands to touch you, feeling where you’re spread open and up to press your clit, and you buck up involuntarily at the contact, forcing a few more inches of him in. He groans at the unexpected tight pressure and heat. You clutch at his shoulders as he responds with his thumb speeding up on you. He drives into you, and you clench down as you start to feel his fingers doing their job, along with his cock jabbing against your internal walls. You don’t recognise the noises coming out of your mouth, they’re not the practised noises that you might expect from a woman of your occupation, but the very real moans and groans from a woman surprised at how this could feel.

He’s breathing heavily, and you can see the sweat starting to form, but he keeps the pace — clearly, his near-constant performances have maintained his stamina. A bead of it starts to form on his brow and you watch it drip, slowly, down his cheek towards the little patch of sideburns. You suddenly yearn to taste it, it’s sure to be salty, and maybe a little sweet, but his musky smell is already filling your nostrils and you can’t help but want to lick it. You try to distract yourself, don’t want to embarrass yourself like that, how unbecoming that would be. You try to look at a point beyond his shoulders, but you fail when you feel his hot, large, heavy, hand on you - cupping your cheek and drawing your eyes back to his face. 

"Where ya going little Bunny?" He huffs, "Stay with me." He’s pleading with you and it immediately catches your attention. You nod, frantically, as his hips rock back and forth into you. He grips your waist and hips tight and leans closer, pausing in his rutting to press into you, deep, and catching your mouth with his. When he pulls off of you, he goes to kiss the side of your face, curving over himself to kiss your neck and you can see another drip of swear forming. It’s too much to take and you reach with your hands, both of them cupping his head, pulling him back up to your eye level from your shoulder. He looks up slightly confused at why you’ve stopped him but his eyes quickly roll closed as you lean forward, 

"Wanna taste you, let me taste you daddy." He nods, and you hold his head in place, kissing the side of his mouth, before licking his cheek, little kitten licks before a broader stripe up to his temples, where the sweat is forming. You were right; it’s sweet and salty, manly. His hips stutter a little and you can feel him twitch inside you, your own walls fluttering and clenching a little in response to his feel and taste. He pulls back a few inches, about to thrust back into you but you put a hand on his chest. He frowns down at you, disappointed that you were blocking his movements. 

"Let me, let me — can I, wanna ride you." His eyes roll back and his bitten, pouty, lips fall open in pleasure as he doesn’t say anything but starts to remove himself from you. When his cock pops out, bobbing between you he rubs it against your folds, cockhead bumping your clit. You grind against him, before moaning at the loss as he sits himself at the head of the bed, sliding down to be in a semi-reclining position. 

"C’mon then doll, have at it." He gestures with both hands at his crotch. "Hippity hop little Bun." You grin, you don’t normally love the bunny jokes and comments — you’re not ashamed of your job and in fact, you’re normally quite proud of your career, but you do like to keep it separate from your private life; it’s still your work, and you’re more than just a playboy bunny. But coming from him? If Elvis wants to call you Bunny, he can call you a bunny — hell you’d hop about the room, eating a carrot, until he was satisfied if he asked. 

You sink down onto him, your slick and his precum have lubricated your entrance enough by now to make it far easier than his first push into you, although your mouth still falls open at the feel of the stretch. You moan at the feel of the different angles, hitting different parts of your walls as you bottom out before rising back up, only to rock yourself back down again. You try to pay attention to his face, work out what feels the best for him but honestly you’re too distracted trying to get the angle right for yourself. He seems content, though, to let you do the work, offering you a near-constant stream of praise; 

"Uh-huh that’s it, good girl, good fucking girl.” You circle your hips in response, grinding down and he’s moaning at you, telling you that you’re "treating’ me so nice, oh god, oh yes." You bounce on him until your thighs are shaking and you’re so close, but you just need a little more something. You’re about to say so, and you’re reaching down one of your hands that had been on his shoulders to touch yourself when he says, 

"It alright bunny if Daddy takes over again now?" You feel yourself clench, his slightly condescending tone for some reason heightening your arousal even further, and you nod rapidly. He lifts you off of him, his forearms flexing, and manhandles you into turning around - pushing you down onto all fours. Your arms are a little shaky and you lean down onto your elbows to compensate.  

"Arch your back baby, that’s it." You comply with his request, feeling a little like a whore and how strange it was to feel, as fucked open as you were, the air running past your pussy. He grips your hips and lines up again, one hand staying around your hipbone while the other strayed around to hold you close to him, palm splayed across your lower stomach as he pushes into you again. 

He slides in, the stretch lessening each time — you can still feel him, of course, but it’s less of a burning sensation and more of a gentle pull now. He’s constantly talking — praising you, telling you you’re "so goddamn fucking pretty" that "you were born to take this," and that you were "such a good girl." You’re not used to the noises he pulls from you, and you probably should be more concerned about how thin the walls are - he reminds you a few times that you "gotta be quieter baby, gotta quiet down, be a quiet little Bunny for me", but when his balls are slapping against you, his tummy knocking into you, and his cock is stretching your hole you lose the ability to stay quiet. 

A stream of swears and words of approval coming from your own mouth, "C’mon, please Daddy, please, that’s it, that’s it, give it to me Daddy." 

He reaches around, stroking you and rolling his fingers over the little silky soft patch between his cock and your clit, feeling around where you’re joined. It’s filthy - and unlike anything you’ve ever experienced, and when he reaches down with a hand - rubbing his fingers over you just so you’re reminded that you’re not the second person he’s ever fucked. He seems to know all the right moves to get you where he wants you, your head turned against the bed, gasping. You’re knocked momentarily silent when he pulls out, rubbing his cock up and down your folds, jabbing it against your clit before he presses a hand agaisnt your back, forcing your ass up higher and presses back inside you. This time he’s aiming, going deeper than his shallower thrusts before, and he knows he’s aimed true when you wail as he hits the bumpy little spot inside you. He breathes a laugh like your reaction is amusing to him — perhaps because of the sheer shock in your tone and he continues at the same pace. Hitting that same spot and focusing his fingers once again on your clit. 

He circles his middle finger and thumb around, moving closer and closer before eventually, finally, brushing directly over it. It’s enough to make you cry out, thrashing around a little, legs jerking, as you come — your hole clenching around him causing him to groan in time with you. Your body goes slack against him, as he continues to pummel into you, although he does slow down, letting you ride the waves of your orgasm back down. He shifts slightly, pulling you up, and holding you by his grip on your waist and pussy as he kisses the sweat on your collarbone. Before abruptly shoving you back down onto the bed. Your face rubs against the fur as your arms give way, and you grab fistfuls to hold onto as he grips your hips, so tight you’re bound to bruise,  and starts to pound away at you. You’re oversensitive and his rapid pace is a little uncomfortable, but as he starts to swear, and you can feel him drawing near he reaches down with his left hand, and nudges your folds open again. He rubs your clit at a pace that would normally have made you shove the guy off of you, so little attention given elsewhere, but that matches his own hips perfectly and is apparently just the right amount of abrasion to send you careening to the edge again. You convulse on his cock at almost the exact same moment you can feel him rapidly pulling out, to shoot his own cum across your ass and back. 

"Now you got your own little white tail Bunny." He doesn’t let you rest. As soon as he’s stopped spurting he’s pushing you over, rolling you onto your back and diving between your legs. He tongues your sloppy, open, hole and he licks his way up and down your folds, before tongue-fucking into you. His fingers coming up to replace his tongue, scissoring into you, so that he can lick up to your clit, sucking on that little nub and sending your oversensitive self straight through to a third orgasm. You scream, unable to remain quiet any longer, clutching at his hair and holding him tight to you as you writhe against his mouth. He licks you out like a man possessed, like he’s been told it’s essential for the good of humanity, and you’ve never had someone do this to you before; you had no idea this was how this felt, but to have someone so dedicated to the task was a feeling almost as heady as the orgasm itself.

He flops back, resting his head back onto your inner thigh, and you pat gently at his head, still breathless and unable to speak as you blink away black spots in your vision. He’s breathing heavily and you can feel his sweaty forehead on your fingertips. You can’t believe it’s his soft, sweaty hair in your hands. God, you wished this plane would never land. He sits up, and looks down at you, patting at your pussy lightly, as you would a pet, affectionately. You look over at your clothes, wondering if you’ll even be able to contain your puffy folds in the tiny gusset of the corset teddy when he distracts you by leaning down and pressing a kiss against your forehead.

"If it’s alright with you, darling, I think I might request you on my crew every time I fly."

[eggdrawsthings]

Hi! I wanted to ask a question and I wasn’t sure if it was too personal or not so just ignore this is you’d rather not answer, but I was wondering if you went to art school or got a degree in it? I really want to start learning and maybe one day start a career in animation and wasn’t sure whether I should spend time and resources getting a degree. I know it’s going to be different for everybody and nothings a guarantee for this field but since I love your style and technical skill I was curious whether you had done that and what were your thoughts on it or if you are self-taught.

Hey anon! No worries it's all good!

Ig I should quickly go through my art journey so you can have an overall look of why I went to art school lol.

So I'm from Vietnam. I think back in 2013 I went to a small art school in Singapore (they were the only one that gave me a scholarship). My major was 3D modeling actually, but during my final year, I realized I only wanted to draw characters for animation. I could already draw decently, so I just read The Silver Way book and built a character design portfolio on my own during this time. I was lucky I got a job as a concept artist at a small animation studio there so I learned a lot from the job. I also did a lot of self-learning and took Woulter Tulp's Expressive Character class on Schoolism.

Then after 3-ish years of working, I got sick of the tiny and dying animation industry in Singapore. I wanna do sth more than just preschool shows and I was severely underpaid lmao. So I quit my job and took the MA VisDev program at AAU. It's a little more affordable cuz u can do 1 year online and the second year on-site. The reason I went to this school even tho i could just take a VisDev class online was cuz i need the visa so i can try to break into the industry in the US.

Now back to your question. Is art school a must? No. Should you still take it? Maybe, depends on your situation. If you can afford it then hell yeah by all means. Art school is great cuz you have professors and peers to help guide you along the way so you won't get lost while trying to figure out your shit. And to have a few years just experimenting and focusing on art is a great experience. Plus you can make a lot of meaningful connections in school and it will help you a long way after you grad. But if you have to go into debt to go to art school, then don't. There are places like Schoolism, CGMA, and Warrior Art Camp where you can pick what class and from whom you wanna learn. If you are not from the US and wanna break into the industry here like me however, then yeah getting a degree is a better bet cuz you can use the student visa and OPT to hopefully get a job here (it's still very very hard tho ngl im struggling rn as we speak lmao). Also, you need a BA to work overseas so there's that too. The hard truth is studios prefer to hire locally than some rando from somewhere else and have to wait for them to relocate and shit, (unless you are exceptionally good and they'd do anything to have you, but that is super rare lol).

Even though I did go to art school, I have to say most of my skills are from self-study. It requires a lot of self-discipline but I'm pretty much obsessed with drawing and I draw everyday so it's not a problem for me. But my friend is not good at that, so she found art school/classes helped her better cuz there are deadlines and instructors to help guide her to reach her goal. So it depends on your learning style tbh.

There is this chart that can help you consider your options. Im sorry it's a very long answer, cuz yes everyone's experience is different. Feel free to drop me another ask if you still have anymore questions tho ^^

Edit: I must also add, though there are online classes and ways to self-learn animation,I do think it only truly benefit you if you know exactly what you wanna do in this industry (for example I already knew i wanna become a character designer for 2d/3D animation specifically so any books/classes i took I tailored it to fit my goal). If you are unsure what you wanna do, then maybe even a cheap animation course will do better, and then you can take extra online classes on the side.

[sugar-omi]

Could I please request hc or a drabble about Cove as a new parent with a female MC? Thank you! ❤️

its your lucky day (aka you've asked smth ive been thinking abt for days LOL) bc ive written hc's and drabbles <333 although mostly messy hc's that are in no coherent order also I think I will come back n write more coherent n specific scenarios bc I have sm thoughts on cove through parenthood.... pls tysm for this ask I hope it's satisfactory bc i wrote in order of my thoughts LOL

tags : fluff, AFAB reader, after step 3/wedding dlc, "options" for 1 or 2 babes (if you hc triplets im praying for u🙏), no gender mention of the babe/s, birth surrogacy n adoption are up for imagination but pregnancy/surrogacy is most implied altho i think you could imagine adopting a baby before they're born bc ik some ppl do that

synopsis : how cove acts when you have your first kid & a bit on how he is raising them with you <3

many many candid shots of cove holding the baby

PLEASE tell me someone recorded near the end of the birth/when they brought you the babe

he's crying. no matter what he's crying his fuckin eyes out

if you're giving birth please either have him wait outside n come in to cut the cord at the end bc he might faint

if you do have him in the room he'll be on his best behavior. will try his best not to worry too much bc he knows it could stress you out

(I'm thinking abt this video I saw where the wife said her husband fainted n fell back into this rolly office chair n just rolled to the back of the room into the dark side (it was apparently a long room lollll))

if you're in for a long labor or it's pretty short he's more calm bc either it's over before he can freak out or it's so fuckin long he's over it LOL

he's more of a solid, physical support than anything else because he's not too good with words but also he dosn't want you to feel pressured, annoyed, or smth with constant "you got this!" "its okay!" as you're pushing out a whole human, its not a simple task

[video 1]

COVE: so little... COVE: (looks at his mom/dad) are they supposed to be this small? (watery laugh)

is very scared to hold the babe, he's a big guy, with or without the muscles so he's always gentle with them even once they get bigger

definitely texts his dad during the pregnancy/surrogacy/adoption process "I hope i can be a good dad like you"

cliff getting a text from cove at 3am: "ty for raising me idk how you did it omg"

cliff is crying n flying over there immediately

!!!! if you need someone to help you adjust cliff is on the fuckin way!!! you can't even finish asking bc he's alrdy here, whatever you need guys!!!!

but if you want to be alone to bond w the babe or you hire a professional to help with the transition then he or your moms will come over and clean up, prepare food, and allows you to come home and not worry about getting things done.

dies if the kid has his hair color or eyes, like at first he just finds it crazy that he's a dad n that he has a lil spawn of his own

also lots of pictures of cliff playing w the babe/s

we all know cove can be lazy with his hair, but he doesn't want his kid going to school w crazy hair so he learns

at first it looks like a mess

n if you keep your hair short or can only do smth simple, its time to call your ma or lee for help LOL

imagine cove standing by your ma as she's showing him how to braid... so sweet

cove is tip-toeing through the house, trying to shake off his outside clothes quietly and when he walks back into the room after brushing his teeth he's greeted with the sweet sound of his baby's giggle

you are sound asleep.

you and the other babe are sound asleep.

he shushes the baby, easing himself into the bed. suddenly he thinks that spending all that money on this big bed was worth it, especially with the way his achy body sinks into it.

"cove?..."

he reaches over the babe/s. "sorry.. did I wake you?"

you hum, it's not a yes or a no, just a sleepy sound and he laughs at how out of it you are even though you're trying to fight it, stroking your face and carding his fingers through your hair.

"I love you.. thank you." he whispers. this moment is so delicate. he worries a bit that if he speaks too loud it'll be gone and he'll wake up in his teenage bedroom, staring at the bottom of his scratched up bunk bed.

"f'what?" you blink slowly.

"for everything..." he grins softly, thinking about that night

of your wedding, when you told him you wanted kids with him.

after the ORCA fundraiser dinner, when you asked him if he imagined having kids with you.

"we made it. that future we talked about..."

you smile softly, more awake now. "thanks for making it with me."

he laughs, muffins his face in the pillow and resting a hand on the baby, willing them not to wake. "how can you thank me for that?"

you grin, more sleepy than anything but still full of mischief.

"how can you thank me for getting me pregnant?" you giggle at your husband's flustered face.

"how can you thank me for being here like I promised years later?" you tease, bringing up night of the fundraiser.

cove flushes, burying his face in the babies hair instead of answering you.

he puts an arm around you, careful of the little one/s between you. "just go to bed..."

gb lady said cove is sahd material.....

omg he makes them lunch always, or he at least helps you make lunch because his cooking skills are a bit limited and they'd prbly have star shaped sandwiches and applesauce everyday

HE HAS A THING TO PUT THE BABE IN WHILE HE DOES HOUSE SHIT

your kids are definitely cuddles bc of him, he always picks em up, and if he doesn't have a carrier than he'll make a makeshift one out of a blanket.

omg imagine him and the kid/s at the dining table crying tryna figure out the homework

"its getting worse y/n!!!" "what the fuck is common core math?!" "babe call the teacher, something is missing here..."

if you're bad at math or smth too than you're all fucked n your kid/s AND COVE are facetiming his dad for a long distance tutoring lesson

he's reading them books every night

HE gets upset when it doesn't happen

"babe we gotta turn around, I only read them 5 books we're gonna be gone 6 nights."

FaceTime them every night you're away just the two of u

falls asleep w the kids in the weirdest positions

why is there a princess crown on his head and where did the face paint come from????

spoils the kid/kids. you're gonna go bankrupt please stop!!!

when your kid/s finally graduate n move out on their own, he thanks his dad for raising him and teaching him how to be the best dad.

also thanks you for just being amazing n reassuring him whenever he worried abt doing something wrong

if you have more than 1, he's a master by baby 2/3

COVE: (holding fresh baby, whispering) ....why is it so red

raising you kid/s w cove is tough at first, cove worries about doing some wrong or failing as a parent.

and he did eventually admit he was worried about raising his kid/s in a "broken" home. his parents did their best! and he loves them, but the split was hard for him and he doesn't want them to go through the same feelings.

every day is a new experience in your house to say the least

I imagine it's filled w lots of worry, love, and tears

COVE N HIS KID/S HAVE A CRY COUNT

(cove is losing somehow?! he's been out crybaby-ed)

[redphlox]

Do you think it's possible that we may see the new Todoroki house in the end? I really hope so, although I have a small fear that Hori may have tossed that idea out.

That was one of the very few aspects of Endeavor's atonement arc I actually enjoyed. Him building a new home for them to live in without all the horrible memories from the old home. It would have been a place for them to heal and be a family together. It felt like it was foreshadowing the family being together and whole again. I always loved and look forward to seeing the new Todoroki home in the end, especially since it seemed like it heavily foreshadowed a healthy ending for the Todoroki family.

Although, with what we have currently in canon, I am a little afraid Horikoshi may have flip-flopped a little too much and forgot about the new Todoroki home.

As it stands now, Endeavor can't live alone in the old home because he's going to need a caretaker. Chapter 426 it looks like Rei is going to be his caretaker now. Touya will need to stay in the hospital due to his condition.

I do think it's still possible we'll see the new Todoroki family house in the end. After all, Endeavor had it built with the idea that the family could be together and heal apart from him, and he's still of this mindset. The house imagery has been a common motif throughout the story - look at Tenko and Toga's backstories. Tenko's home is destroyed, Toga's home is destroyed, and their families are gone because they either died and can't come back or don't want anything to do with their kid. But here sits this new, shiny, trauma-free house for the Todorokis who haven't abandoned their villain son Touya and WANT him in their lives despite the hell of it all. The new Todoroki house is there for a reason, narratively. As for Rei being a caretaker - there are many cultural elements at play regarding forgiveness, disability, and the duty of caring for a spouse. However, I personally, absolutely loathe the idea of Rei having to care for her abuser on multiple levels - morally, in terms of justice for abuse survivors, gender roles and stereotypes, and through a disability perspective. It's appalling that she lost ten years of being with her children, only to have to care for the person who took her away from them, especially since one of their children doesn't want to be near Endeavor. Also, not to mention the fact that the caretaker doesn't HAVE to be Rei. Expecting her to be his caretaker negates the guilt he feels about pushing her into a psychosis. "Hey, sorry about abusing you to the point that you threw scalding water on our son because he reminded you of me. Now you have to be my 24-hour helper and look at me all the time, though." It falls flat. He could hire someone. But above all else, if we're talking realistically, I disagree that Endeavor can't live alone and that he'd need a caregiver. My career is literally just this - rehabilitating people from injury and illness, etc. If Endeavor were my patient, I'd say he would be a great candidate for prosthetics and could learn different adaptations, techniques, and skills to become independent. He could even still be independent at wheelchair level, and would require less help than what other manga readers are imagining. There's even an example of this through Miruko, who also has two amputations, just like Endeavor, but now has prosthetics. And even if he needed help (which is completely fine - no one is morally obligated to become independent), he could hire someone to help. Lol. I want to type a much longer, more nuanced discussion about how BNHA frames disability, but that's for another post. This discussion is a lot more complex than what I just stated and I want to touch on many aspects, including how disability is portrayed in the general media and specifics in BNHA. Anyway… I went on a little tangent - but yes, I think the Todoroki house could come up again. I'm hopeful. Hori set these things up for a reason and I'm expecting he follows through. Endeavor and Dabi losing their arms also has set up to bring back a certain gag from the Stain arc.

[tododeku-or-bust]

Gonna start out with im white but tbh thats probably obvious so like. You rbed an interview about Miles G's hair and ive been wondering

Are there specific stereotypes to certain black hairstyles? Im curious bc i do character design a lot, and tbh ive always thought the double braids was a really cool look, are there implications to it? Or is it just regular racism from nonblack people that make some view it as "thug" as opposed to just a normal hairstyle.

Like when i was little i used to have my hair like that all the time, and i still do it sometimes bc its really good for hot weather, so i kinda associate it more with beating the heat/good hairstyle for when you're gonna get sweaty than anything else lol

🤣 it tis obvious, but I'm gonna answer this for you and anyone else who wants to start looking into it bc yes this is very important. So let's talk about it!

(this became a history lesson I did not mean to give lmaoooo)

The CROWN Act

PBS Transcript- How Hair Discrimination impacts Black Americans...

So first, to be frank: it's Racism. Understand that this shit is rooted in White Supremacy towards any nonwhite hair. I'm also approaching this from a Black American standpoint. While I won't be discussing their perspective bc it's better for one of them to do it, Native Americans also have a long history of White society forcing them to cut their hair, regardless of the religious/spiritual/symbolic importance. It, and its damage, lasts til today. And head wraps? Psht almost all of Brown America has a story.

In the beginning, they had enslaved Black women (and then through Jim Crow) cover their hair altogether. It was somehow seen as a way to protect property, then to call our hair ugly and an affront to whiteness, and yet a Jezebel lure for White men to sin (i.e. rape Black women, but White women didn't think that was possible so it HAD to be that concubine!!) This perception lasts to this day. Later, it turned into Assimilation or die- hair presses and conks to better meet white beauty standards. Being proud of our afros and natural hair had a revival in the 60s and 70s, and (this is subjective) i noticed it again in the 2010s with women and natural hair.

To present: You gotta realize that having afros, cornrows, braids, and locs is enough to get Black kids kicked out of some schools and extracurriculars. An entire education or valuable experience, and you cant have it bc of the hair that grows out your head. One of the saddest videos I've ever seen was when they forced a Black teen to cut off his locs (i.e. they held him there, looking miserable, as they sheared off his hair) in order to compete in a wrestling tournament, and all the white people in that place did was watch. No one stood up for him, as he sat there getting handled like property (bc his Black body was bringing them wins but his hair was just TOO MUCH 🙄 but that's a whole Convo about Blackness, Whiteness, and Sports).

My brother went to Catholic school and they basically said he couldn't grow his hair out. None of the looks we ascribe to our culture were allowed. The girls, unless it was flat ironed (to replicate whiteness), couldn't have long braids. Certainly no locs. Meanwhile, white girls can grow their hair out as long as the sun is old, and it's treated like innocent, beautiful youth.

And this lasts into adulthood with jobs! Bc that socialization, the idea that some hair is better than others, LASTS. A newslady just took her wig off to reveal her locs on camera, after hiding it for a decade because of public perceptions. The idea that if I have locs, oh they must be dirty (they're not), so they don't care about their physical appearance and we can't hire them. Like when that old white woman said that Zendaya's faux locs probably smelled like patchouli- that was an assessment purely made on stereotype.

This is also why we get so annoyed when white people- white women in particular- wear their hair in these styles. It's usually associated with "being edgy, being rebellious and older" (i.e., bc being a Black girl is so far from what you're supposed to be as a White girl, it's not innocent or valuable, it's dangerous and it makes everyone notice you) and as soon as they're done, it's back to Mother Mary of Whiteness. It's how cornrows and braids on Black and Latino men (or both, like Miles and Miles G!) are misperceived as gang or hood shit, but a kpop rapper will get them poorly done and it's 'cool' 🙄 it's White men with dreads (I refuse to ever call them locs bc they are NOT) who think they're in their "hippie/fight the power phase" cut them when it's "time to be respectable", but when a Black man with nice locs has them already he's suspicious.

You're basically saying that being Me/Black is a trashy, edgy phase that will never succeed, but it's cool for when you wanna feel Different!

*it's also why it pisses me off in fandom spaces when people refuse to give brown characters their hair texture (or whitewash at all!). It's a statement, that "good hair" is White, and "not good/aesthetic hair" is Black. You might not think that's what you're saying, but it's what you're saying, and every Black viewer of your art can hear it loud and clear. So if you're a character designer, put some thought behind and give your Black characters their features. It'll make you a better artist and a better person.

Anyway, to come back full circle to your question: as far as I'm aware, no, there's no "bad implications" of Miles G or his braids. Nothing we wear on our head is inherently bad, just like him. But bc we've all been raised in White society to unconsciously and consciously associate certain stereotypes with these looks, Black and Brown viewers of ATSV were quite worried that that statement was being made. It was nice to hear that it wasn't.

[just-an-enby-lemon]

Job Requirements to future employees of the Magnus Archives (and tips to nail your interview):

GENERAL

- Be part of the LGBTQIA+ comunity.

- Be neurodivergent

- Have personal trauma (a little bit of trauma is enough but the more trauma the best)

- Have a small or even better non-existent support group outside of maybe other Institute Employes if and when Elias sees fit (he will break your friendship and you won't even notice).

- Better yet just make very clear that the chances of someone noticing your sudden disapearance is something between "almost none" and "zero", same for looking for you if they somehow notice.

- Be extremely nervous and specifically afraid of Elias during your enterview. (Yes, the Head of the Instute does all the job interviews personally, no it's not for quality test he's just hungy and really enjoys the fear of being known and truly seen that comes from job enterviews in specific).

- Deep wish for knowledge

- Opticional: Have a college diploma and some high academic credenciais. Don't worry you can straight up lie, Elias will know but he will hire you for the lols (and because your anxiety of if someone noticed and when everyone will know you're an impostor is a really fun snack).

EXTRA RULES FOR A POSITION ON THE ARCHIVES

- Have no idea how to run an archive

- Cassete Tape Expertise

- Some level of distrust that will ruin your friendships (Martin is the exception because the lie anxiety was a rly good snack and Elias subestimated him).

* Specifically for the Head rchivist position we also recomend you have previous supernatural trauma to pair with your normal trauma, be hard to kill but easy to hurt and be incrledibly easy to kidnapp.

+ SOME GUIDELINES FOR IF YOU WANT TO BE THE HEAD OF THE INSTITUTE

- Have cold grey eyes (alternativally have no one that really rembers your eye color all that well).

- Jonah Magnus considers you to be actractive and healty.

- Answer the question: what the people around you would think if your personality suddently changed with "preffer it" or "they wouldn' notice" or even better some mix of both.

+ Bônus: DON'T try to enter to or act as someone from HR, the HR people are either not real or just Peter Lukas dressed as a slutty secretary after he lost a bet. He hates it. You hate it (you better do or the Fog will get you). Everyone hates it (except Elias because of fucking course Elias is fine). If you try or even if you just do something that looks a bit like HR's job you will be the one testig whatever it is they're testing in artefact storage right now.

[lunadreamscaper]

VT/P.I.E. Headcanon list!!

This is all my personal takes and opinions, I guess also are canon in my “au”/spin off.

If there’s any you like from this you can take inspiration or adopt any of these if you like them I will not mind <3

But if you don’t like some of these (which is fine bc you don’t have to), please be kind, especially since some of these are based off/inspired by personal experiences as well as some of my Headmates experiences (that I got permission to use as headcanons 🙏🏻) I just hope people won’t find some of these upsetting? I don’t think they are upsetting but sometimes difference of opinions can be distressing so I understand 🫂

Anyways here goes:

Toast and Ghost have a queer platonic relationship (this one might be a hot take but also we need more rep like this Imo 🙏🏻)

The Level 25 demon from Spooker’s debut video is the one that turned Ghost into the Puppet. (And was probably the one who put those FNAF ghosts in Swift Taylor’s house lol)

Another lvl 25 demon one: I like to think it pulled “a Bipper” (Gravity Falls reference yes) and used Spooker’s body, that’s why you see Spooker as a “ghost” but then later on was normal/living again. Also why we see Spooker in the dimension where Housekeeper is trapped and later towards the end of the Puppet arc in the crypt where Ghost sees him. (Also watch the Haunted by Pennywise video 😭) I don’t think the demon lives in Spooker’s body like how people think demon!Jimmy does though.

Speaking of Jimmy, he’s a very traumatized alter (I’m a system in case anyone is concerned by that 😭🙏🏻 )

Ghost has some supernatural abilities? And is sensitive to dimensional shifts that happen (which happens a lot considering how unstable their world is) as well as understanding lower level paranormal entities, and sometimes visions of specific events (reference to Spooker’s debut video and “Johnny Ghost meets Freddy the dinosaur” video) and a few others that Jimmy also takes advantage of. Also dreams. He gets weird dreams sometimes.

Gavin Toast speaks in an American Accent sometimes, originally to separate himself from his twin.

I’ve already mentioned Ghost being intersex and demisexual I think but still adding it.

Dark Pit’s disappearance after joining P.I.E. In its early days has something to with Darth Calculus…

Ghost had a fear of umbrellas as a kid.

The Lvl 25 Demon and Stardust Sprinkleshine are a divorced couple/hsrs

Toast paid Josh to keep an eye on Ghost during his retirement arc (reference to my comic Heart Attack xD)

Timothy Casket and Chakalata Soup may have been business partners… before ending in disagreement.

Gavin maybe an Acalacam experiment that was only found out later by Darth Calculus (Gavin and Johnny T.’s father never learning that it actually sort of worked.)

Toast’s mother hates Ghost, except nowadays tries to hire people to kill him so he stops spending time with her son but ofc he keeps coming back like a damn revenant lmao

Spooker and Colon are boyfriends (sorry this is a ship but like they literally kissed in the 5 yr anniversary stream and I dreamt about it so I have to acknowledge it)

Spooker did used to have a crush on boyfailure Johnny Ghost though

The reason the VT world is so scuffed and has so many dimensions is bc they all live in the shattered remnants of a broken world.

My fan comic Supernatural Crossover, and Sherlock crossover on wattpad are technically canon to my spin off (except for the Gravity Falls one that one is retconned but fun fact Timothy Casket is in that one and I’m reusing the ideas from it for other things)

Timothy Casket totally wasn’t a serial killer and also totally didn’t get his kid(s) involved traumatizing them and changing the course of their lives forever.

Ghost has a twin brother but that’s mostly for Strive SMP shenanigans

Cardboard Friend is made up of many souls of children that possessed a cardboard toy creation made by Gregory…

There’s a cult out there somewhere with significant importance.

Johnny Ghost also has lead poisoning and some other issues bc of the old mansion’s condition (the one from the first Cardboard Friend video)

Johnny Ghost is also really pale because Cardboard Friend ate off his life force and sanity but got away probably in the Nick of time probably bc of some permanent effects?? (probably why that video made no fucking sense bc it was from Ghost/Gregory’s perspective)

It’s actually really traumatizing to separate twins from each other while they’re young. So if you take into consideration that Johnny Toast and Gavin were probably not allowed to interact and Ghost being separated from his twin too, that makes Ghost and Toast two twinless twins that trauma bonded to each other which is probably why they have a lot of separation issues.

Colon is a witchcraft practitioner (reference to “Moving didn’t go as Johnny planned” video)

I also used to believe Colon is a retired undercover cop or detective but also like ACAB and I barely remember why I came up with that so idk if I’ll keep it but I definitely need more Colon headcanons

Josh is also hired to babysit Woah for Spooker and Colon from time to time :3

Josh also makes really good pumpkin pie (since she was a pumpkin farmer) Ghost also really likes this pie.

Also Spooker is trans and pan while Colon is gay (these ones are special bc it was from a dream)

I’ll also add the universally accepted hc that Toast is bisexual (and demiromantic??)

Josh is also bi and polyamorous (maybe a demi girl but not sure yet)

Ghost is on the Spectrum, (most of pie probably is but the one I’m confident on is Ghost at least)

Sometimes paranormal entities can sort of fuse and/or mesh together to sometimes become stronger (but can separate… sometimes) *cough cough the paranormal tornado cough cough and CBF cough cough*

And lastly Ghost is 5’4, Toast is 6’6, Spooker is 5’7, and Colon is 6’1 (Gavin is the same height as J. Toast and Josh is either 5’3 or 5’5 I haven’t decided yet 😭)

Okay I’m gonna stop there for now but if I remember anything that’s important to me I’ll add them in like a reblog to this post.

Sorry it’s so long! Also had to keep some of these vague to avoid… spoilers ig?

If you’re curious about any of these tho feel free to ask and I can talk more about ‘em!! :3 <3

Maybe I’ll share some more Acachalla related headcanons but not today

[afunky-jester]

I have given in to the theorizing and decided to actually find some proof of Le Fantôme being related to Mother. It's going to be a kinda long one since I tend to ramble when I talk about my theories

Anyways so

But from what I know from genetics, and the fact that Le Fantôme is described as a man, they could've been fraternal twins and she just ended up with blonde hair. It isn't impossible for two people with black hair to have a blonde haired child (my mom's grandma was ki'che yet she had blonde hair and green eyes from her German ancestors way back in the family tree). As long as the parents carry the gene for it, it is possible.

Le Fantôme and Mother might be related

(key word: might)

First and foremost, the Renoir painting mentioned in the first book. It is mentioned that it reminds Le Fantôme of his late twin sister. Although it is mentioned that Mother is the only child of only children, due to the fact his father left it could be that he never found out much regarding his father's past. Do take this with a grain of salt though, all I'm saying is that they possibly could be related in some way. Not necessarily father-son. What little we do know of Mother's appearance is that 1. He has black hair and 2. He has burn scars. The black hair complicates things as in the Renoir paintings that match the description of the one referenced in the first book, the young girl has blonde hair.

Both Mother and Le Fantôme have some form of interest in art. This is almost entirely coincidental but it also isn't uncommon for people who are related to have similar interests even if they have never met. My sister has a similar, almost identical signature to my maternal grandfather, and I have the same interests in most of the arts he practiced (like writing). Mother mentioned (although probably to make it easier for the mission to go well lol) that he likes Renoir's works, and it has been mentioned before that Le Fantôme specifically chose his main residence because it once belonged to Renoir. They both enjoy similar styles of art, ones put into the same category.

Another thing they share is some form of relation to theatre. Fuck yeah theatre. Mother grew up as a literal theatre kid, plays and musicals and stuff. Literally being cast in multiple main roles (I think, I haven't watched the ones that he mentioned he acted in)

Do you know what is by far one of the most iconic musicals? The one of which has had so many parodies and references about it, even the Thea Stilton books has one? The one where Monster High made a character who was the daughter of the namesake?.

THE PHANTOM OF THE OPERA

LE FANTÔME, PHANTOM OF THE OPERA??? PHANTOM IS ANOTHER WORD FOR GHOST!!!! AND THAT IS THE PART MOST CENTERED!!!!

So it's either 1. Le Fantôme is Mother's father 2. Le Fantôme is Mother's long lost sibling, perhaps from his absent father's side or 3. They are otherwise related in a different way.

But that's just a theory... A BOOK THE– *explodes*

I'm SO glad I managed to finally write this omg I rarely ever write down my theories lol

Is this just me comparing them? Maybe.

Is this just another way of sharing my family stuff? Yes

Someone should hire me to write articles /j (unless... 👀)

[neemso]

Okay, time to make a post to criticise PMATGA with its inconsistencies! (Probably + other stuff)

(definitely not because of boredom)

Okay so, since it's been a while since I've seen the show, some takes might be a bit invalided due to forgetting some aspects from the show if they were ever established already, so feel free to correct me after reading!

So the first two episodes, huh...

Remember when Betrayus was menacing and threatening in these episodes? While his comedic personality was balanced well with it?

Only for his threatening aspect to be taken away from him, replacing him only with his childish/pathetic personality instead?

Speaking of, he implied that he was the one who murdered the yellow ones, right? The question is; why did he do it? Why did he commit a mass murder on his kind? Why and how did he become power-hungry? Was he always like this? Was it revenge? For what? What was he trying to achieve besides wanting to rule Pacworld?

And if his murder on the yellow ones was supposed to be because they were the rulers of Pacworld back then, why didn't he just murder the certain rules at the time and overtake their throne? Why did he go all out of his way to murder every single one of them just to eliminate them?

And only for all these questions to get retconned to be changed to instead of being a murder! Oh no! They only got frozen instead! Oh no! By this new antagonist we learn of in the same season!

The Pacinator

I admit, his whole dailouge about him freezing all the yellow ones and working under someone more dangerous than Betrayus does sound a lot more intriguing! I really liked what they were going for when they chose that route! Well yes, i would've love it if they stayed on their old root with the original idea, but i guess a little bit of a rewrite wouldn't hurt? Right???? (If you know you know)

But then, here comes the questions: who hired him? Who is this bigger threat they were implying here? You can't just tell us that and never bring the Pacinator back again, or erasing the mention of this bigger threat! What got the Pacinator so invested into his job as an exterminator after the incident with his mom? Why does he enjoy it so much? Why is he never brought up again after his mysterious escape???

And that leads us the next antagonists who have been added near the last of season one, as another attempt to rewrite the disappearance of the yellow ones! Are you keeping up with this?

The PointyHeads, specifically Apex

Tbh, even up until now i love aliens! They've always been an interest to me, so of course i ended up loving their first introduction!

I just wish they were given more episodes to talk more about themselves, and what their home planet looks like, and what's their life style like... And most of all, what their relation to the yellow ones?

When did they capture the yellow ones? Why are they experimenting on them to begin with? Yes its said the yellow ones are special, but when did they learn that? Were they in Pacworld long ago before deciding to kidnap them all? When did they learn they missed one yellow orb?

Are the yellow ones this OP to begin with?? Is this why they're all being exterminated?? (Well when you think about it this way, Pac is already too OP for his main protagonist syndrome lol)

And you know what they do about all this in the end? They literally just say F it! Let's make them in Pacworld yet again in the last episode! BRUH???

Speaking of! Let's talk about Elli's existence!

So Elli, the (probably used to be) most disliked character due to some controversial stuff as she was the last character to be introduced in the very last episode as a last straw...

I can't think of any inconsistency besides bringing up how we don't even get to learn about her until very late in the series, and how her existence seems to be just an excuse to be a plot device, as we learn nothing about her character outside of the descriptions Sir C and Stratos brought up about her...

And of course we can't forget, one of the most reasons she's disliked in the fandom is due to her being used as another excuse to ship her with Pacster

AND SPEAKING OF...

Remember how Rotanda adopted Pac as her grandson in her only debut episode? Remember how she mentions she was never blessed with any grandkids before the last episode of the series? Keep in mind Elliptica was mentioned in her debut to be Stratos and Betrayus' niece, making her Rotanda's granddaughter, which makes this whole shipping thing with her and a Pac being a big yikes

(i can only give it a benefit of the doubt if the writers might have forgotten about Pac's adoption completely, although it's a bit suspicious no one pointed it out beforehand)

And now for the ghosts and power berries!

Remember when it was said no one knows what happens when a ghost eat a power berry? And it was one of the main reasons they were keeping them away from Betrayus?

Only for it to be retconned at Captain Benshi's debut? and even Pac was smugging about it as he knew what he was doing!

I have no thoughts about it as i always forget this fact honestly, and even then i wish they kept the premise they originally went for...

[insert two images of the Ghost Gang and Spiral here because of Tumblr's image limitation]

Spiral i can understand, since they probably didn't know what to do with him as his existence was probably meant to be Pac's best friend (even though he's the most underwhelming character who we barely know of and wish he was given his own episode[s]), but Ghost Gang? They're literally the OGs of the Pacman franshise! They're barely given the episodes detected to each one of them! They're always given this whole role of "we need to warn Pac and help him!", it's always the "where's the Ghost Gang" but never the "how's the Ghost Gang"

Yeah we did get an episode detected to Blinky _which mind you, was literally at season two, past the time where you're supposed to build your characters to know them better at season one_ , as we learn he's a Pac-Fu master, which is a good character build up in my opinion! I just wish it was hinted beforehand that he knows something we don't know instead of it being out of nowhere when the episode decided to introduce Master Goo...

Pinky we don't know much of her besides her obsession with Pac, thinking he has something for her, and even then, one inconsistency that personally makes me and some people a bit uncomfortable to mention, was when Clyde implied in Nobody Knows episode, she dated two tenticle ghosts... Unless we have to assume they were teenagers as well as her and Pac, but we are not sure exactly...

I still wish we were given more information of her and for f sake! Not talk about Pacster every sentence! We need to learn more of her!

Same goes with Inky and Clyde! We know nothing of these two! I think we only know Clyde is one of the kindhearted ghosts to exist, and he's a cook, and the goofball of the group, and that's it. I don't think we even know much of Inky besides his sarcastic personality and wanting to be on the winning side... Just UGH!

----------

Alr i think that's all i have in mind, sorry if it's all over the place and unorganized, i wrote this all in two nights as of now

You're free to disagree with me and correct me if I'm wrong! You can even add your opinion too! I just felt like giving some criticism to it in a public post, even though the show's been dead for a decade, haha

So hope you enjoyed it!

[krunktrunk]

it's late but I need to get this out

IDEAL COMING OUT SCENE FOR MIKE (FOR ME PERSONALLY, IDC IF ITS THE FIRST TIME HE COMES OUT I JUST WOULD LOVE FOR THIS TO HAPPEN) (not the best writing it's just kind of a basic what I want to happen)

Mike's said something wrong again, he and Will had a fight, or he fully realized something and basically broke down. he runs away, in the middle of the literal end of the world, and everyone freaks out about where he is. Nancy goes out to find him (or multiple but she goes out) and goes to the junkyard.

she finds Mike there, either sitting in a old bus or the backseat of a rundown car, he's crying and curled himself up, as much as his limbs can. she's angry at him for running away and she's ready to yell at him but seeing him in this state makes her soften, she quietly sits down beside him and looks straight ahead.

Mike looks at her, but doesn't say anything. "why did you leave?" she asks, he just sniffles and shrugs. "come on Mike, talk to me" he uncurls himself slightly. "there's something wrong with me" Nancy is confused, of course she is. "what do you mean?" "why couldn't I just love her?" he says it more to himself, Nancy starts to understand. this is about eleven. "you're only young, the one for you will come eventually, it's not weird to not be in love at this age" she thinks she's helping, but Mike cries more. "that's the issue, I have met the one, i met them a long time ago,but I can't ever be with them" she looks interested, maybe picking up on the non-gender specific pronoun. "why?" Mike curls himself up more. "because it's wrong"

it finally clicks. Nancy sinks back into the seat, staying quiet for a moment. the only noise is Mike's sobs, but the camera is focused on Nancy as her face scrunches, confusion and slight sadness. her face lightens up just slightly, a smile forming as she starts to speak.

"do you remember the first time you watched superman?" Mike looks up, confused, but his sobs stop slightly. "because I do.. you were obsessed, like so much that we had to buy the DVD because we were spending so much money hiring it" she's laughing, but Mike just looks confused. "could you tell me about this person.. the one that is the one for you?" and Mike does, he says features about Will, and Nancy's gathered by this point who Mike likes, she already kind of figured. "why did you bring up superman?" it was a weird comment afterall, but Nancy laughs and explains.

"you were so obsessed, with superman, didn't care much for when he was Clark Kent.. but then you met Will" Mike freezes a little, but Nancy continues. "and instead of dragging me to watch the movies with you, you dragged him.. and he liked him as Clark Kent, so you did too.. even though you always had a thing for super powers" Mike 100% has a thing for a super powers so I don't think it would be unusual for him to have a crush on superman as he compared El to him lmao.

they keep talking, and Nancy talks more about his obsession with superman, and Clark Kent, but it turns more and more into Will, just without saying the name. like will using Els name to speak about his emotions.

"because.. everyone taught you to like superman, he was the better cooler version, he was who everyone liked.. but you liked Clark Kent, and there's nothing wrong with liking Clark Kent, even if everyone else likes superman" Mike nods, the scene slightly reminiscent of Wills coming out to Jonathan, not actually saying it but implying it, Nancy just doing it a bit more obviously.

I then feel like at the end of it she would say something like, "are you going to talk to Will?" to really show that she understands, and Mike will say yes, and they will hug and they will say how much they love and care for eachother because they are siblings and yeah.

that was long lol. I will forever spread my Mike has a crush on superman propaganda

[sorryimananti-romantic]

S and N being a writer duo>>>>

N coming up with the wildest plots left and right, and S helping with the details. then, when N fails to follow through with their ideas, S is there for support and helping them stay consistent <3

(someone be the S to my N yall 😭)

(i was going to ask you why you chose S and N specifically but now i know) but yes. every N def needs and S, and every S def needs an N!!

if you're a writer and you're the one that comes up with the wildest plots but struggle with details (you just like me fr) then we shall find you an S 😤 WE'RE HIRING EVERYONE DROP IN YOUR CVS

(you also need an L to your Y. L being the person who plays reverse psychology on you and tells you you can't do shit and you do shit just to prove them wrong 🤩 that's how i see my fics to the end LOL)

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

So with Clementine Book Two coming out in October, I decided to do another reread of Book One. Though, I'll be honest, the bigger reason for this reread was out of spite; I follow Tillie Walden on instagram, and while I don't go on there often, I usually check her page when I do so I can see any new artwork or Clementine updates. Her latest post is from one of her other graphic novels, and I guess I just... don't get it.

I don't understand why people are like this:

This is on a post that has nothing to do with the Clementine comics. As for ones that are about Clementine-

Those are just a handful from a few Clementine-related posts, but there's so much of this all over Tillie's posts and I don't understand.

What does this accomplish? Other than making you look like an asshole? Like... no one is impressed by this. No one is applauding you for repeatedly commenting "lol we didn't want a forced gay romance ew," which by the way? Repeating that in every single paragraph you comment? Tell me you're homophobic without saying you're homophobic, y'know?

There are legit criticisms to be had of Clementine Book One- The pacing is all over the place where it starts very slow and then goes into whiplash mode after Amos dies. Georgia as a villain is a weak point in the story. Clementine naming her leg after Kenny is a bit icky considering in canon, he physically and verbally abused a disabled person with a brace on his leg in S2. I don't think there was much thought behind that decision past "Hey, the fans like Kenny," and I think that's worth pointing out as "Hey... maybe don't?"

Some of the dialogue is a bit stilted, but some of it is actually pretty good. My personal favorite is when Clementine and Amos are fixing a roof-

Amos: Lord, this roof is... Clementine: ...fucked? Amos: SHH, don't say that! It's... troubled.

I'm sorry- that's funny! And it actually says a lot about who these characters are and the kind of friendship they have.

And yeah, Ricca is just okay. She's clearly the love interest, and I'm hoping we get more development of her character. And yes, the "baby" thing is still weird.

There's a lot about the art style that I'm not crazy about, specifically Clementine's face and expressions, and I hope to see an improvement in that for Book Two.

And then the obvious: Clementine leaving because she was unhappy and felt everyone thought she was a liability doesn't match up with the end of TFS.

I don't think it's mean to say that Tillie wasn't the best fit for this project, but that's on Skybound. They're the ones who reached out to her and hired her. I think Tillie's a great artist and her graphic novels have great queer, wlw representation in them. Just because she wasn't the perfect fit for Clementine that doesn't mean she's bad, it means that maybe she should've been considered for a different project.

And honestly...? Y'all, Book One isn't THAT bad. It's not great or anything, but the comics can't take the games away from you. If you want to say canon ends with the TFS, then that's where it ends. That's where it ends for me; these comics are more of a "what if" scenario than anything.

No one is forcing you to accept this as canon, and if you're so pathetically butt hurt over the existence of a comic that you feel like you have to go on Tillie's instagram, the artist who is only doing the job she's obligated to do, and comment shit like this on every. single. post-

Maybe, just maybe, you need to go outside. I'm serious.

This isn't the only comment about grooming on Tillie's posts, or that I've seen on reddit. Like... do you understand what grooming actually is and how serious it is? Or are you just using it as a buzzword that you know is bad and triggering as a means of insult and convincing others that she's bad, too?

Also, I don't think you really understand how creativity and writing work. Maybe it's just me, though I doubt it, but when I create characters or write already established characters in my fanfiction, they all have a piece of me that's apart of them. My life experiences and who I am as a person influences everything I write, and that bleeds into the characters, for better or worse.

What, you think Louis having a random pillow collecting problem was something I just pulled out of my ass? No, it's because I have a pillow collecting problem! Do you know why I've always had a such a hard time writing for Violet? It's because I see a lot of myself in her and that scares me and I'd rather just not unpack all of that, okay?

I mean, how many times on this hellsite have you come across someone saying, "lol my otp is just Person A is my type and Person B is the one I project onto" and it has thousands of notes because, on some level, we all get it.

Tillie has talked about Ricca before and like most creative people, she's drawn from her own life to create her characters. Ricca isn't some self-insert character just because they both wear glasses, I'm-

You are just being an asshole! I just- I'm getting pissed off because this shouldn't even be a thing. WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? WHO HURT ALL OF YOU?

I love Clementine, too! She's important to me! I have replayed TWDG more times than I can count! I was pissed about the comics in the beginning! You can go back on my blog and I probably said stupid shit, too!

But Clementine isn't real. She's a fictional video game character. She isn't going to reward your bullying or white-knighting because she doesn't exist. You're not doing this because you're a "true fan" that loves Clementine. Honestly, if you were a true fan, you would know that if Clementine was real, she would find you and this behavior disgusting. Tillie Walden is a real person and I don't give a flying fuck if you hate her work. By all means, hate the comic! Criticize the comic and Skybound for continuing the series, but leave Tillie out of it.

And I think the part that sucks the most is it doesn't matter what I say, you can't rationalize with irrational people intent on being assholes so they're not going to stop.

I guess what I'm trying to show with all of this is when Book Two comes out, and y'all start reading it and making posts... please don't be these people.

Whatever you may feel about Clementine Book Two, try to remember that Tillie Walden is a real person and she's just doing the job that Skybound hired her for. Tillie's an artist just trying to live her life in Vermont with her wife and their cats, and she's gotta deal with all of these people harassing her posts. She can't even post something non-Clementine related without a bunch of #notmyclementine shit in the comments.

I don't even know what else to say... Uhm, I guess if anyone from those screenshots sees this, then... I don't feel that bad about calling you an asshole. We all learned in kindergarten to treat others the way we want to be treated, but maybe you were sick that day, I don't know. Go outside. Get your life together. We have a short time on this planet and maybe you should try to actually accomplish something while you're here. Eat a kitkat or something👍

[bengiyo]

Be Mine Superstar Ep 7 Stray Thoughts

Last week, Praew hired an actor/prostitute to try to murder or seriously injured Ashi on set. Instead, Pun threw himself in front of it and had to be nursed by Ashi. Muang successfully had a second night stand with the doctor after following bad advice and then got dumped (lol). Ms. Koi is the only reasonable character who wanted to make sure Pun couldn't sue them. We got to see Ken's abs a lot. We did not get to see Ben's abs at all. Pun confessed his feelings to Ashi, but Ashi needs some time to think about it even though he's been flirting this whole time. Pai was finally not a shit to his brother about Ashi.

One of the first rules you learn where I'm from is to never drink when you're sad or upset. I wish Punn's friends weren't encouraging him to drink.

I like them giving us a glimpse of Ashi doing the work to get into a character.

Pai is actually a brother. He gives his brother shit, but didn't out his crush to Punn's friends.

I'm glad Ashi made sure to offer Pai a ride, but Pai ain't shit for dumping his drunk brother like this.

Ashi really took this man to a secondary location.

Ashi, I feel you on being uncertain about letting a new person into your life, but you're also asking a lot of a single relationship.

Not to downplay this kiss, but Punn drank a bunch and just woke up. I know he has to pee so bad.

Damn, they're just going for it!

I don't like Ashi dodging the I love you question. He's sitting at the Saengtai table now.

Look at Muang being honest about how important sex is to him as a component of a romance.

Oh, I don't like cashing problems at someone's place of business.

Okay, but what history is the doctor worried about being revealed?

Pai said I am not interrupting his vacation, mom.

Three times? Look at the youngsters go!

This man really put an imaginary ring on Ashi.

First is very charming in this role, and Ja is legitimately funny.

A classic gay sex vacation montage.

Yes, let's discuss the closet before heading back to Bangkok.

I like that Ashi doesn't lie about remembering Punn.

Pai, you are about to embarrass everyone.

Oh lord, why are we back to Tle?

Grandma's poker face is strong.

I'm glad things seem to be going well but we also seem to be moving very quickly.

I feel like Pharm and Dean are the only ones to really speak to their family. I feel like maybe only Cutie Pie featured this specific connection to the family.

I do not who Mr. Da is for Pun to have met him.

I support Ashi for being the type who wants to do things right.

The grandmother is even putting aside any reproductive pressures.

I'm gonna go with the earnest read and not presume this is not all for practice for a role.

This was such a fascinating honeymoon episode. They went out of their way to make sure that Punn's family will not be the source of their future problems, and that these two are serious about each other. Ashi is the person to do things right, because it's important to do things right. I'm a bit enamored with this little show, and like the specific appeal First has found for this one.

Still, if he's only doing this with Punn as research for a role with Ben's character, I will be upset.