#no freckles no fur no scars

[whoisnotmyname]

hairstyles i'm playing around with bc i'm officially doing that avvar companion au for gunnjar (may or may not lead into that mock up dao dlc i mentioned)

[officialclangen]

Something is rustling in the grass...

Hello, dear furends, gather round! The breeze off the lake is cool and refreshing, and the freshkill pile is stocked full. All cats will eat well tonight— though in leaner times, harsher times, purrhaps some cats may find themselves lashing out at their Clanmates... The world is wonderful, ever-growing, but all the more dangerous fur it. It's time ClanGen expanded to match.

ClanGen v0.11.1 has released, available now via auto-updater or https://clangen.io/download

Feature: Freshkill pile & nutrition system

Feature: “Destroy accessory” button

Content: Lakeside Forest Background

Content: Murder for the new year

Content: expanded scars: "HINDLEG", "BACK", "QUILLSIDE", "SCRATCHSIDE", "TOE", "BEAKSIDE", "CATBITETWO", "SNAKETWO", "FOUR" Expanded tortie: 'FRECKLED' white patches: 'BLAZEMASK', 'TEARS'

Content: Sibling and constrained patrols

Content: weights and mates

Content: expanded war events

Content: more patrols

QOL: Cat List UI Update

QOL: same sex setting update

QOL: update for freshkill switch

QOL: Patrol type decision enabled in classic

QOL: updated credits list

QOL: change to poetry

Plus many more bug fixes, tweaks to events and patrols, and more!

[rosedom]

thoughts on. cat (or just feline in general)boy reader purring while eating out a guy of ur choosing (most likely aether 🔥) and readers tongue/lips vibrate so perfectly against his gspot/clit that he ends up cumming almost immediately after..... save me prettyboys save me

-🕊️

gggghhh yeah ,, yeah ᓚᘏᗢ

feline reader with big ol' twitchy ears, so sensitive to the touch. you've definitely fallen asleep with your pretty boy scritching you behind them, but that's for another time. and, god, your tail—it's super soft, and wholly in your control. you'd be able to control it at will, make it wrap around your boy's waist to keep him still, slither up his leg all snake-like to keep him open.

speaking of open . . . pretty boy aether all spread out for you, thighs split wide open for your head to bump up between 'em. the way your ears would inadvertently brush the sensitive inner skin, so few of the fine blond hairs that sprawl across his outer thighs left to tickle you in turn. it's nothing but smooth, smooth skin, marred by a scar or two that nicked far too close for comfort, and the freckles that cover his whole body.

and his giggles ,, pretty boy ae giggles ,, mmmmmmgmhh. aether reaching down, just like he does at night, in the morning, (at any time he can get his hands on you, really,) hands cupping your ears. you sigh at the touch 'cos it's just so soft, so soothing, the calluses on his fingers leaving nothing but a soothing texture to rub across the fur-lined pinna.

"your hands are nice," you murmur, head lolling back into his gentle ministrations. "sooooo nice."

he grins down at you, golden eyes wide in some intoxicating mix of love and arousal. it does something tender to your already soft heart, the way his glistening cunt is so close, close enough to smell—heady, intoxicating—, yet you're here between his legs as he pets you, his giggles filling the air. who said sex had to be all that serious?

but once you get into a lull—a quiet one, where all you hear is your heartbeat loud in your own ears, the scritching sound filling 'em like thick cotton—, you find yourself gravitating towards where he's wet, where the heat of his arousal is most ardent. his lil' cock is chubbed up, red like berries and just as tasty.

(he'll chastise you for comparing his taste to berries, later, after he's cum and once you're curled around him afterwards.)

"o—ooooh," he gasps, turned into a sweet melodic moan. it's pulled out of him the same way his giggles were—easy, gentle, and so, so satisfying. the way his joy slips from his lips is ravishing. for all the feline you are, he's a whole minx, just by existing in your loving arms. "tha's good . . ."

you'd reply if your mouth weren't full. licking, lapping—he tastes divine, the rough bumps of your tongue dragging against his leaking hole in a way that makes aether's back arch so prettily. his navel is thrusted upwards, the muscles of his abdomen taught before they fall back down, limp and helpless to the sensations ravishing his body.

"l-like that, please," he whines. he's whining, and you're supposed to be the animal between the two of you (how ironic).

you can feel a purr begin to rumble in your chest, this small, barely noticeable thing. really, you're so used to purring around him—how couldn't you, content as you are with him?—that you don't notice it at first. but then aether's moans hitch, mewls beginning to spill past his lips in greater frequency and louder, too, as his hands twitch and tighten in your hair instead. your ears flick, back and forth, in that space between his thumb and pointer, but he's heedless of it; he's focused entirely on the way your purrs are vibrating directly against his oh-so sensitive cock.

for a moment, you wonder why he's so desperate; after all, you've not so much as changed your rhythm. your tongue laps evenly at him: once at his hole, twice at his cock, that perfectly-rough texture stimulating around his thick cockhead . . .

. . . until you realize that your tongue is vibrating with the steady rise of your purrs. it's reverberating in your chest, spilling out of your mouth, too, your lips vibrating as they surround his cunt in the wet heat of your mouth. the sensations of everything—of your soft ears, your soft hair between his fingers, of your tail wrapping itself around his ankle, of your goddamned textured tongue—send aether hurtling over that edge. it's sudden, the way it happens.

even as he's loose-limbed on the bed, his orgasm causes his body to seize up and relax in turn, muscles rippling with the onslaught of an overwhelming stimulation coursing through him, all before he melts back a final time, hands slackening where they were held fast to your fur.

and then afterwards, when you've wiped your chin and mouth clean of his slick and got him bundled back up in your arms, tail loosely wrapped around his middle and a thick blanket pulled up around the both of you, his giggles would start back up as you purr, happy as if it were you who had the mind-melting orgasm.

mm ,, just aftercare with your pretty boy ae, his hands back to smoothing down your ears as you cuddle, purrs still quietly rumbling. feline reader truly has my heart<33

imagine u pavlov'd aether to now associate purring with getting off ;; unintentionally getting ae turned on, all hot n' bothered just 'cos ur here purring, all content wrapped up with him. the sacrifices of winning, i suppose.

12 MAY 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[woodland-gremlin]

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 6

First Previously AU Summary

“‘Even’ nothing. Now we are going to drop this, summon the new King, beg them for forgiveness and for them to deal with Trigon, and fix those disastrous laws!” Constantine declared while pulling out a book with a strange aura out of his coat pocket.

Red Robin internally sighed in relief. They were finally getting somewhere. He had been worried that they would be stuck getting integrated until Trigon was right on top of them. Not that it would stop them from getting questioned after the whole fiasco was over, but, small mercies.

From the way Batman was glaring at Supernova and Red Robin it was even more obvious that the Bat wouldn’t let it go. The only thing stopping him being the pressing matter with Trigon and the occult magician being very willing to yell at him if he kept poking. Though it did make Red Robin wonder how he planned to do so, it wasn’t like he lived at the manor anymore. No one but Alfred noticed that the only time they saw him was at the cave, and even that was rare. Really makes one question about the ‘World’s Greatest Detective’ title that Batman held. Danny certainly doesn’t think so with all his nicknames for him, and after the last few years he was inclined to agree. You really shouldn’t meet your heroes.

The Laughing Magician worked and while watching him make the summoning circle Red Robin and Supernova were suddenly glad that neither offered to make it. If they did they might have never stopped getting questioned. Even Constantine would have probably joined them with how differently their summoning circle would be. While the con man made an intricate circle with the title of Ghost King being the main factor, with candles placed at significant points and fancy offerings, the two boyfriends had a much simpler approach. The biggest differences being name and title. They call Danny by name, which makes it significantly easier than a broad title to summon him. Add on to the fact that most of the titles that Constantine are using are only Danny’s by default the ease in summons is a lot easier. Though them being his boyfriends and offering snacks plays a big factor in it too.

The occult magician then began to chant in Esperanto. Candles began to flicker, changing to Relam’s green. The room’s temperature began to drop, frost creeping across the floor and walls. Wind that shouldn’t be possible in a space station whipped around, flipping Batman and Superman’s capes over their heads. A neon green crack appeared in the air above the summoning circle. Claws clutching the tear in reality before ripping it further.

Out from the tear in reality stepped out an ethereal being. White hair that moved like it was underwater. Lavender skin with freckles spaced out like constellations. Bright green lighting birch scars crawling over their body, cutting all the up to their brow. Eyes glowing the same erie color with the one the scar cut through being that singular color, sclera and all. A crown seemingly made of aurora lights and ice, radiating power. A fur lined coat seemingly made from space only added to the otherworldliness, A ring shaped like a skull, signaling the being as one of death. Armor with small dents here and there showing that it isn’t just for decoration. That this being that they summoned was a fighter, a King forged in battle.

 Everyone but Red Robin and Supernova froze. They thought that they were prepared. They knew that they would be powerful, enough that they could rule over beings like Trigon. But no words could have prepared them for the aura bearing down on them. All their bravo was drained out of the minute they were subjected to the King’s presence. Aquaman was especially shaken. He was a King as well but he felt like nothing compared to the one in front of him. Like a big fish in a small pond thrust to face the ruler of the ocean.

“Were you the ones that summoned me, freeing from the bane that is paperwork?” the being asked.

To be continued . . .

Next

[moongreenlight]

I will never stop comparing all the 141 boys to dogs in my fics. Unfortunately I am unable. Thanks but no thanks. Wdym they’re not a pack of strays? Wydm ‘pack’ mentality doesn’t directly translate? Literally what are you not understanding?

Wdym Price isn’t an Anatolian shepherd? Bred specifically to be a guardian of livestock? His life’s purpose is to defend? He instinctually knows how to keep the structure of the pack intact? Pointed corrections made by a bite to the throat or baring his teeth that may seem drastic to some, but his herd understands that it’s a necessary evil? Gentile giant to those who he’s serving for and with but an apex predator to anyone else?

Wdym Gaz isn’t a border collie who learned how to herd from Price? Follows in his footsteps by quickly learning to nip at the heels of stragglers to keep them in line? Loves learning new tricks because he’s agile and always needing stimulation? Insatiable need to work and see tasks through not only well but to be the best that’s ever been?

Wdym Soap isn’t a Belgian malinois? Snapping his jaws and vibrating with kinetic energy that’s just begging to be harnessed and used to his handler’s aid? Wicked smart and playful until he’s instructed to work? Needs constant attention and supervision and structure in order to reach his full potential? Quite literally sniffs out trouble and offers his full dedication to stomping out the problem? Competitive and destructive until his efforts are focused on something more productive? Needs a firm hand to be his motivating force?

Wdym Ghost isn’t a Doberman? Forced into a dogfighting ring and set loose to the streets by a group of well-meaning protesters like that was any better? Cropped ears and docked tail and freckled with scars where fur won’t grow? Conditioned by years of trauma to immediately bare his teeth and snarl to project a vicious front if made uncomfortable? Who’s rehabilitated into something much more palatable by the structure of a pack?

What do you mean dude?

[iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia]

Vesuvia Weekly: What it's like to hold the M6

~ my submission for this week's prompt - have some sappy headcanon drabble ^.^ ~

Julian

The sounds of leather folding and bending and creaking, of a pent up sigh, of a noble, anxious, too-big-for-its-own-good heartbeat fluttering against those thin, bird-like ribs

The smell of - yes, more leather - with a slight hint of sweat and the faded scent of the crushed herbs used to stuff doctor's masks

The feel of a well-worn, weather tested, oversized coat falling around both your frames, a cold set of bony fingers tangling into your hair through protective gloves

The sight of folded black cloth and slightly dulled metal buttons, a pale neck cradling your forehead, auburn stubble shivering over a bobbing adam's apple

The bitter taste of sea-salty lips, self-sacrifice, and coffee

Asra

The sound of an airy chuckle, a curious whisper, a deep, relaxed sigh, a heartbeat that touches your own with every gentle thump

The smell of smoking incense, sparkling spices, and syrupy vanilla, lurking beneath the petrichor of sunny spring rains on the dust of a far-off highway

The feel of a soft shawl on your cheek, sturdy linen body-warmed and slightly rough under your arms, heavy, heated hands running soothing pathways along your spine, cloud soft curls on your ears, a deceptively slight frame

The sight of golden metal and silvery blue stone on smooth skin, the barely-there rise and fall of a body slowly relaxing into yours

The taste of smoky tea, home, and desperate dedication

Nadia

The sound of rustling silks, the quiet clink of bracelets and rings, the hush of long, thick hair falling over chiffon-clad shoulders, a contented, throaty hum, a lofty heartbeat

The smell of jasmine, rose, pepper, and amber, of warm silk and chilled white wine, of flower gardens and powdery cosmetics

The feel of a heavy curtain of hair against your face, body warmth passing quickly through thin, gauzy sleeves wrinkling under your movements, of strong fingers tilting your chin into her collarbone

The sight of glinting gemstones and finely crafted metal, intricate embroidery stitches swirling across lustrous fabric, scalloped hemlines along sculpted shoulders

The taste of spiced fish, wine, and plush, commanding adoration

Muriel

The sound of heavy, rough cloth slowly dragging across itself, breaths hitching deep and slow, a grumble quiet and low enough to shake the earth, a nervous, powerful heartbeat

The smell of myrrh hanging around you like a cloud, of warm fur and chilly forest air, of falling leaves and running water and smoke

The feel of muscle and scruff, of radiating body heat, of massive, calloused palms alternating between gently splaying over your shoulders like blanketing weights and hovering cautiously around your waist in fluttering, feather like touches

The sight of thick, dark hair falling in choppy lengths over stubble and scar tissue, of thick green cloth over sinew

The taste of grilled forage and mead, of healing and steadfastness

Portia

The sound of an excited giggle, springing footsteps and jingling keys, a happy gasp and unstoppable heartbeat, a mischievous secret getting laughed into your ear

The smell of air-drying laundry and soap, hair oil and cocoa butter, fresh bread and sizzling butter and caramelizing berries

The feel of strong forearms, small, calloused hands, the push of energetic bouncing against your shoulder, of hair flying around your face, the plush squish of a no-holds-barred bear hug

The sight of fiery curls spilling over clean, pressed cotton, freckles speckling creamy skin, the occasional grey and white cat hair clinging to black ribbon, the dusk of a happy blush

The taste of yeasty bread, and the comforts of adventure

Lucio

The sounds of nearby dogs panting, a cutlass clanking in its sheath, the mechanical whir and musical hum of an alchemical arm, a confident, snorting chuckle and a devoted heartbeat

The smell of fresh sweat, warm metal, cinnamon alcohol in a journeyman's flask, hair gel and worn cologne

The feel of a padded, quilted vest, the quick rise and fall of an active chest, the slight tilt of a shoulder forever sloped in favor of a heavy arm, the sinewed grip of a warrior's touchstarved fingers and the cool, metallic touch of a careful clawed hand

The sight of sharp collarbones and glinting curved gold, fine flaxen hair at the nape of a snowy neck, crimson cloth and leather straps

The taste of grilled meat, traveler's wine, and new beginnings

[darkmajesty-xo]

18+ mdni | tw! monsterfucking, fae!izuku, dubcon, smut 𓂺

the veil between worlds is thinnest at years end, permitting traveling between realms. when you wished for adventure and excitement in the new year, you never expected to stumble into a new world. a beautiful grove with exotic wildlife and gorgeous vegetation. and you most certainly didn’t expect to have a spear pointed directly in your face.

“oh! you’re a human?”

Viridescent wings protruding from his back and pointed ears confirmed that he wasn’t.

The freakishly tall stranger drove his weapon into the ground before extending his scarred hand to help you up. Now, standing toe to toe, you got a better look at him.

He was beautiful. Lush leafy locs curled around his tanned face that was lined with emerald markings along his jawline. His verdant eyes resembled the groves budding flowers. The man had plump pink lips that curled into a breathtaking smile, revealing silver tipped fangs, and pretty freckles decorated his cheeks and bare torso.

He wore golden cuffs around his large biceps and a leather holster across his body that held multiple daggers, all varying in size. His lower half was covered with airy trousers that couldn’t have provided much protection from the breezy night air and his feet were bare.

“i— yes?”

“is that a question?”

He smirked a little. Then crossed his palms over the base of his spear to rest his cheek as he watched you.

You looked good— soft and pretty, but you smelled even better. It was an intoxicating scent that teased his budding frenzy.

“Are you not human ?” You ask, more confidently this time. He shakes his head “no” continuing to smirk at you. It was unnerving, especially with his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “Well..” you pause, not wanting to offend but still rather curious. “What are you?”

“I’m Izuku” he giggled, eyes glinting with mischief. “But you can call me whatever you’d like, pet”.

Your captor's name was Izuku Midoriya, and he is a faerie. A faerie warrior to be exact. He is the Fae King’s second in command and best friend, and he was only away from the palace due to his frenzy.

A frenzy is period in which a fae is overcome with extreme lust and the desire to breed. Primal instincts take over during this time and he prefers to spend them in solitude to avoid scandal.

This forest is his territory and personal haven granted to him by the royal family. Everything in it belongs to him, including you.

It wasn’t like Izuku to lay claim to another person, but it wasn’t every day that a human tumbles into his domain. He found you fascinating and the bourgeoning call to mate was impacting his lucidity.

He brought you to his forest den— a place where he went whenever he needed to convene with nature. As a forest faerie it was vital to his wellbeing. It was a large cave hidden behind a waterfall. A grand fire pit sat in the middle of the room surrounded by animal furs and soft pillows. There were bookshelves and chests filled with valuables and weapons against the walls as well as a wooden desk covered in notes.

He moved around the cavern pulling off his accessories at a languid pace, his large wings fluttering gracefully behind him leaving a trail of sparkly dust. He muttered casually about the messy state of things but you caught him watching you out the corner of his eye. It was like he was waiting for something.

“Are you cold, pet?” His arms circled your waist, pulling you against his broad chest. The impact made a flurry of sparkles tickle your nostrils, you inhaled deeply and felt yourself sway. “I’ve read that humans are more sensitive to climate than we fae. Here, lie by the fire”.

He moved your body like a doll, easily picking you up to place on a pile of pillows. He laid beside you, one hand trailing up to rest on your hip while his head rested on the other.

He spoke in soft whispers for a few minutes, occasionally sitting up to stretch his wings.

It was getting hard to focus. The rhythmic flutter of his wings paired with his hypnotic voice was putting you in a strange state.

“How do you feel, little one ?”

He was hovering above you, wings outstretched with a sinister smile. With the fire to his back, he looked like an avenging angel, or maybe a demon. But, in your dazed state all you could say was “pretty” and reach for his sparkly wings. They felt like silk. When you pulled away, a layer of dust coated your fingers. Without a second thought, you brought them to your mouth and moaned.

His pupils expanded, completely shrouding his eyes in black.

“That’s a good girl. So smart.” He cooed, leaning down to cup your cheek and press his lips against yours. His kiss burned. Leaving you dizzy and reeling. It felt like your body was on fire, set ablaze by Izuku’s passion.

“A bit warm, my pet?” He smirked against your skin, kissing across your jawline. “Why don’t we take these off, hmm?” He nibbled on your ear, drawing breathy moans from your throat as he removed your clothes. Your body grew hotter with each graze of his fingers. By the time you were fully nude, the heat in your core was so intense that you could only whine his name.

“izuku”

“say it again”

“izuku”

“again”

“izuku”

“once more, my love”.

“izu~~”

He pushed in slowly. Yes, the effects of his faerie dust was more than enough to prepare you for his length. But you were so small compared to him. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you.

Even though his primal instincts screamed at him to ruin you. MATE. BREED. FUCK. Was running on a constant loop in his mind. His hips still rolled against yours slowly. He wrapped your legs around his waist to burrow in deeper. His tip kissed that spongey spot in your slippery pussy. His tongue pressed against the seam of your lips, bullying its way inside to taste your mouth. Your hands flew to his curly hair, drawing a grunt and sharp thrust from your enchanting lover. Your cunt spasmed around him. He bit your shoulder to conceal his own moans. Blood pooled in the hollow of your neck and he lowered his head to lap it up. His wings flapped wildly, throwing more dust in the air. His veiny cock pulsed against your velveteen wall, pushing against your cervix to rest against your womb. Izuku pulled away to watch where the two of you were connected. A thick creamy ring formed at the base of his cock with hearty thrust. Arousal poured from you weeping hole resulting in a lewd squelch that echoed against the walls. He pursed his lips allowing a glob of saliva to land directly on your sticky clit. The pads of his thumb worked the swollen bud until you were trembling beneath him. Your sweet cunny clenched tightly around him; it was almost hard to move. Izuku squeezed the base of his cock to stave off his impending orgasm. He wasn't ready to stop fucking you yet.

There was no need to rush, you’d be together forever.

His perfect little pet.

@xogabbiexo , @chaichaiiskai & @hentyehottie y’all better come get one of these.

[kawakalalala]

Outlaw: 1

INTRODUCTION POST!

wc: ~1.8k

tags: pretty much just kissing, nothing too crazy yet!

a/n: thank you all so much for being patient with me while i crank this bitch out! i’m really excited to see what u guys think :3

You’d heard the voice before. Hundreds of times. His voice rattled your bones like a late August thunderstorm over the lake.

“Hands up.”

You turn with your hands in the air expecting just to see Jerry Anderson, the sheriff who’d been after you since you were old enough to run.

There was never even a thought to not run. You could weasel your way out of anything; you’d been running your whole life. But something in you kept you from grabbing at the gun on your hip.

“Ain’t nowhere to run no more, huh?”

You weren’t sure what came over you. ‘Easy’ wouldn’t have even begun to describe how quickly you could kill this man. In a hundred ways. But you knew what you needed, and you knew what the way to get that was. It was surprising for you to see a second person, behind him, taller and broader, with a face hidden by the shadow of a hat.

“Looks like it.” You drop down to your knees and lay down your revolver, kicking it out of reach. The Sheriff was surely on top of the world right now. He’d been trying to get you for years after the killing. It was personal, but not on purpose.

The broader figure starts to move, slowly becoming illuminated by the soft glow of your campfire.

You couldn’t remember the last time you saw Abigail Anderson. You almost didn’t recognize her, but there was no way you could've forgotten the way her freckles bit her cheeks, the soft bump in her nose, and the softness of her jaw. She’d worn her hair in a braid then too, but now it was long enough to dangle past her shoulder blades. Had that much time really passed?

She passed you and walked up to Belle, the liver chestnut overo mare. She wasn’t as fast as she was when you met her; she needed a little more grace around turns, and her white fur started to bleed into warm brown on her face. You loved her more than you could love anything, because there wasn’t much to love about the life you led.

“Don’t tie her to your horse,” you turn to face Abigail, “she’ll bite him in the ass.”

She exhales with the faintest likeness of a laugh.

“How d’ya suppose we’ll get her back to town then?”

You shrug, knowing she’d follow you wherever you went. You don’t notice you’ve been handcuffed until you go to stand up.

Jerry Anderson was kinder to you than he should’ve been, considering what you’d done to him. His hand is heavy on your shoulder as you pull yourself onto his wagon.

✦✦✦

You wake up to the light from your cell’s window prodding at your eyelids. Large enough to see everything, (including Belle, hitched up outside, still sleeping).

“They decide where I’m goin’ yet?” You shout at Abigail, scribbling away on some papers near the front door.

There were a handful of things that were convenient about your position: the sheer size of your town made it so it was only necessary to have a few cells in the sheriff’s department. (if you could even call it that.) And that you always had company.

“No. We ain’t even sent out the mail this mornin’. Give it some time.” She laughs.

“Whatcha doin' over there?”

“Nothing,”

“Well ‘nothing’ seems quite time-consuming.”

She finally turns around and looks at you, and you see her clearly now. The light scar across her cheek, her soft blue eyes, her supple, soft pink lips, and the toothy smile she gives you when she asks, “What are you getting at?” Seeming only slightly annoyed.

“Nothing.”

“I’ll be sure to get the mail with your papers sent out today,” A smile pulls at her lips, but you don’t notice it.

You’re picking at your nails when you ask, “This all you do all day? Seems like I’m a mighty fine companion to keep around.”

“What do you do all day then? Steal and kill?” She turns back around in her chair.

“Pretty much,” you stand up and stretch, a groan escaping your lips. “I love murder.” You try to stay as deadpan as possible, but you can't hold back a giggle, sitting down with your back against the cell door and peering out the window at Belle.

“I’m serious,” her tone changes, “Why on earth would you want to live runnin’?”

“It was freeing once, “ you tell her, the back of your head against the heavy metal bars of the door, “but freedom gets lonely sometimes.”

“Seems real convenient that this revelation is gettin’ had after you been caught,” there's an edge to her voice, but it’s still smooth and cool, like a stone in the palm of your hand.

“It ain’t no revelation, darlin’, I just finally made a choice,” you say matching her edge as best you could, “and your Daddy ain’t do no catching, I let him have me. ”

“Bless his heart,” she says, “but I’ll believe you there. He couldn’t pour water out of a boot if the directions were on the bottom.” You both laugh, and for a brief moment, you forget what brought you here in the first place.

She turns around to look at you. For a brief moment, you and Abigail are 12 years old again. The wind whispers her name, and you’re watching the sunrise on your walk to school. You like her because she doesn’t talk about boys. She doesn’t talk about much of anything. You like her company, and she likes yours. At the end of your twelfth summer, she doesn’t want to walk with you anymore, and you don’t ask, or even wonder why. You walk to school alone until you drop out at 15. You turn to look at her.

The door opens, and you watch as Jerry walks in. The way he looks at you makes your stomach churn.

“Mornin’ sir,” you smile at him, and he ignores you.

“You can put her outside y’know,” he says to Abigail, like you aren’t even there. “them stalls under the barn lock.” He laughs, and your blood boils.

“We’ll see.” Abigail tries to forget about the hard part of this job. She’s always trying to forget about the hard part of this job. She knew you once.

You hold your tongue until Jerry leaves. He talks to Abigail a bit longer, and makes another offer to “get rid” of you for her.

Part of him stays when he walks out the door. Suddenly you realize what you’ve done. The fantasy of a free life might’ve been attainable if you were a less successful bandit, but there’s no way you’ll ever be a free woman.

You’re never going to be free. You’re going to die here, with a failed childhood friendship and a man who wants you dead. You’re never going to feel the sun on your skin again.

You’re going to die here or somewhere worse. You’re going to watch your life walk by you and you’re stuck behind bars because of a stupid one-off thought you had. Your breathing gets heavy and your head spins, and suddenly you’re grabbing onto anything you can get ahold of.

You should’ve fucking shot him.

✦✦✦

“What in the hell was that?” her voice is cool and smooth, even when she tries to have any semblance of urgency.

“Dunno.” You’re both on the ground. Her right hand cradles the back of your head, holding your hair off your neck, and her left holds a glass of water to your lips.

“That ever happen before?” Her eyebrows are furrowed with concern, and you stay silent, taking a sip.

She doesn’t seem to mind. She watches you intently, readjusting her hand on your neck. You set down the water and look at her.

“Why’ve you been so damn kind to me?” Your eyes well with tears, and her furrowed brow softens, just a little. “I’m a criminal, Abigail, I’m not- I’m not a good person.”

“I ain’t a good person neither.” Her voice is almost a whisper. “Have some more water.”

“Okay.”

You’d never been one to listen to anyone. You were entirely uninterested in being told what to do. But the way she spoke to you was different. You didn’t seem to have a problem taking orders from her, because she genuinely seemed like she cared. She wasn’t patronizing or arrogant.

“I’m sorry I stopped being your friend.” Her hand is warm against your skin.

“That was so many years ago.”’

“Don’t make me less sorry.” Her hand moves slowly from your neck to your jaw.

“I’ll give you a second chance,” Your eyes dart from her blue eyes to her lips, and for a moment, everything goes silent.

“I’d like that I think.” She inhales sharply, and drops her hand. “I got some paperwork to fill out. D’you need anything?”

“Yeah, I think so,” You say before kissing her softly, just once. You pull away and look at her, and you lift one hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. She looks at you like you electrocuted her. “Think that’s all.”

Something clicks in her head and she lunges to kiss you. It's sudden, but it’s soft. She’s soft. You reach down to replace her hand on the meeting of your neck and jaw, and she places another hand on the small of your back. Tension releases in your shoulders that you hadn’t noticed was there in the first place. You place a hand on each of her shoulders and push her backwards, still following her lips with yours. You can feel the muscle in her shoulders, but she’s pliable and obedient in your hands.

Your tongues dance against one another with the same cadence as the wind in the grass at the end of your twelfth summer. And as the light of the sun on your twenty-sixth summer falls over the same grass, you pull away from Abigail to look at the small smile pulling at her mouth, the flush across her cheeks, her pupils blown and her lips only slightly swollen.

“Whatcha lookin’ at me for?” Her voice is almost a whisper.

“You’re beautiful, Abigail. Damn near the most handsome woman I ever seen.”

She can’t bring herself to say anything in response. She can’t even bring herself to look up at you. She can’t bring herself to lock you back in here, and sit out at her desk and watch, let the state take you away and hang you for your crimes.

“I’m gonna get you out of this goddamn place.”

“You’re what?”

[violet-moonstone]

one of the many MANY reasons httyd 1 is my favourite film in the franchise is that the animation is extremely detailed but not polished -- when i say not polished, i don't mean of low quality, but I mean the characters are imperfect and wonky. Their skin is covered in freckles and scars and their smiles are crooked. and every detail on them from the strands of hair on their heads to the tufts of fur and threads of fabric in their clothes are shown in all their rough, scratchy glory.

All the backgrounds and objects have a matte, grounded, earthy quality and you can almost feel the cold dampness of Berk as you watch it. everything feels real and weighted. sometimes you feel like you're really there.

when I was younger, I used to watch it on a tv screen and pause every few minutes to just stare at as many details as possible, almost trying to enter their world by taking in as much of it as i could . I can't count how many times i used to watch the forbidden friendship scene over and over again.

[gorgugplushie]

THE APOCALYPSE MADE ME BRAVE.

[A Digital drawing of Kristen Applebees and Cassandra from Fantasy High. Kristen Applebees is a human with pale skin, green eyes, freckles, scars along her arms and face, short curly ginger hair in a ponytail, a sunset colored halo, and white wings that turn dark and purple as if dipped in ink. Kristen wears a black tank top, a galaxy pattern sports bra, and a yellow jumpsuit that's tied around her waist. Kristen is standing to the right, she looks down slightly surpised. Cassandra is a young god, her image is made to reflect Kristen, they have purple night sky skin, long purple curly hair in a ponytail, freckles shaped like stars and planets, multiple white eyes, sharp blue fangs, a dark blue halo, dark fur on her arms, dark blue wings with stars, and a long unicorn like tail with purple squiggly patterns. Cassandra wears a purple tye-dye t-shirt, purple shorts, and dark purple shoes. Cassandra floats to the left, her arms are out as they e hold Kristen in place between them, her expression is of a slight smile as a single tear rolls down her cheek. The background is dark grimy yellow a large splatter resembling blood made of purple and blue stars and dark inky galaxy takes over the screen from where Cassandra floats. /END ID]

[necroromantics]

🌙 — Late Nights

midnight laundry run

- the melodic jingle of a bell flowed through the atmosphere of the empty laundromat as the glass front door swung open.

- a tall, slim woman made her way into the world of detergent and garment as she squinted up at the buzzing fluorescent lights upon entry. a stark contrast from the darkness of the midnight streets outside. the bright blue-green hues from the bulbs reflected off her clock eye, and the deep red that soaked her clothes.

- she dug her hands into her forest green jacket, accessorized by dirty fur on the hood, and pulled out the contents in her pockets. lint, a switchblade, pack of cigarettes, lighter, and various coins.

- the change clattered onto the metal washing machine as she emptied the items and began to remove her blood-stained, mud-crusted coat.

- silently, the hum of the lights overhead buzzed through her cold ears red with frost. as she sniffled back snot, clockwork caught a scent of warmth and cleanliness. her long, calloused hands made their way to her white tank top as pulled it off over her head, revealing black bra and defined scarred abdomen.

- her long, messy caramel brown hair fell recklessly on her slender shoulders freckled with sun and stars. clockwork wiped her dirty, red painted hands off on her black skinny jeans torn with age and adventure, and began to slide those off as well.

- as the girl stripped down to nothing but underwear, she was utterly indifferent to shame or curtesy. slipping a cigarette out of her pack, she placed one in her mouth, deeply inhaling the rough tobacco smoke as though she were breathing in life.

- with the cigarette held between her lips, she placed her soiled clothing into the washing machine and inserted the coins into the slot. as time ticked on, she leaned against the rumbling appliance and hugged her arm around her waist, bringing her other up to grip the smoke loosely between her two fingers.

- for a moment, all was calm. the warm air of the laundromat danced on her bare skin, opposite to the cold tingle of the washing machine on her back. clockwork allowed the atmosphere around her to take hold, closing her one good eye for a moment.

- she felt as though everything around her crumbled away, only listening to the buzz of the lights creating a symphony of errand with the thundering clatter of her clothes being tossed and turned. it was quiet, and peacefully alone.

- in that moment, it was if the girl wasn’t feral with blood splattered onto her coarse body ripe with war. in that moment, she was as clean as she could be with mud on her sneakers ripped to shreds and victim flesh under her chewed nails.

- that is, until the sound of the bell on the front door made her eye shoot open. a ruthless glare dug daggers at the intruder of her peaceful night as she stared at the entrance.

- to her dismay, it was a familiar face.

- shaggy, messy tuft of chestnut hair and obnoxious orange goggles hiding the boys desensitized dark eyes. it appears he had been on a job. his clothes were even more tattered with red soaked stains and earth grime than the girls.

- “oh clocky have you no shame?” the boy joked, inviting himself to stride over to her side.

- “not one bit. got nothing to lose anyways.” clockwork replied, staring past the annoyance who she knew as toby.

- without second word or warning, the other began to pull off his sweater, and unbuttoned his jeans mudded with graveyard dirt. his hands were rough, but quick, as he removed every article but his boxers.

- toby was smaller by a couple of inches in comparison to the tall girl when she straightened her posture to reveal her full height. like the girls, his body was littered with scars. some old, some new.

- he slid some of clockwork’s coins off the top of an unoccupied machine and roughly shoved his bundle of wardrobe into it, easing the change into the slot.

- still leaning against her appliance, facing forward, clockwork glanced over to the side with aloofness plastered on her time-kissed face, to watch the boy fight with the cleaning instrument.

- “you’re an idiot,” she muttered as she tried to fight off an amused smile creeping on to the corners of her mouth.

- toby huffed and turned away from the sputtering laundry, now looking at clockwork in her brutal entirety. the undressed woman was certainly tough to swallow, she wasn’t exactly easy on any casual eyes.

- “you’re hot” the boy blurted out, rivalling her disregard for shame or consequence.

- clockworks head quickly turned to match her gaze, now staring directly at toby with furrowed brow and wide eye. she froze for a moment at the unexpected comment before shaking her head and smiling into her glare, huffing a confused chuckle in response.

- she couldn’t say she was surprised. toby was as loud-mouthed and crude as she was.

- “yeah, well, wish i could say the same about you” the girl teased back, taking another long drag of her cigarette.

- for the next endless two hours until the laundry had completed its cycle, the pair continued their banter and casual chatter. the occasional passerby on the street glancing in to the laundromat from the large window, to see two blood-splattered youths in nothing but underwear and crooked smile, sharing a smoke with sparks in their eyes.

- everyone could see it but them. the fire between them could burn that town down.

[madwomansapologist]

Shan Yu obsessed with you would include

Masterlist | Rules | Taglist | Personal blog | More Shan Yu | AO3

synopsis: For Shan Yu, it was love at first sight. For you, he was the man that kidnapped you. Oh, young love.

warnings: female!reader. badass!reader. kidnapping. nudity. in this house we hate the misogynist version of Shan Yu in Mulan (2020).

• Villages on the border are not usually targeted by the Hun army, as they are mostly built and maintained by the effort of the population itself. They are part of China, but it would take weeks for the Emperor to be updated on the situation of these villages. There's no need to attack them, and it's not useful either. After all, everyone needs to rest. It is an agreement between the army and the city leaders: peace is maintained if they are well received and well fed.

• It was suppossed to be a quick stay. After a long battle, the army needed to eat and rest. And so needed the horses. Soon after, they would continue their journey. After enjoying the feast offered by an inn, Shan Yu decided to ride alone along one of the mountain trails. This battle showed that the Chinese army is well organized, despite being smaller. As tempting as counting victory is, deluding yourself can be a fatal mistake. Shan Yu needed to think, and he needed silence.

• Hours after leaving the inn, a noise caught his attention. A sneeze. And the sound of running water. Shan Yu searched for the source of the sound, comanded by his own curiosity. It was almost like his body was warning him: This is important. He jumped off the horse and followed his ears, finding a lagoon hidden by ash trees. It's water was dark because of the stone banks, filled with a few carps and low vegetation. Then you emerged.

• Shan Yu almost fall into the lagoon. He never thought he had weak legs, but they were shaking. He couldn't feel knees, but he did feel his heart. It was aching. Like something sharp hold onto it. It was such a hurting feeling, but he never want to not feel it. Because he knows exactly what this mean. Shan Yu just fell in love.

• He saw you whole. Reflecting the moon, water falling down your body, he saw every inch of your skin. Your curves, your beauty, your smile. Your scars, your freckles, your marks. Shan Yu saw your body, but also saw your soul. The way you moved into the water, having fun, even tho you were shivering. It was so, so cold. But you didn't mind. You wanted to swin, so you did it.

• You were brave. Certain about your desires. Resistent. And your laugh... That sound was deserving of a thousand praises. People should give their lifes for the chance of hearing you. Of seeing you. Of being near you. And it would be a pleasure. A small price for such a great gift.

• Then you sneezed. And again. And again.

• Shan Tu quickly notice your clothes stretched on a rock. It appeared to be made from a nice tissue, but he couldn't let you wear something like that. So he came out from among the trees.

• You got scared. Who wouldn't? Even if you didn't knew who he was, you probably heard about him, a man appearing out of nowhere is really frightful. You dived up to your chin, on a attempt of covering your body, and walked away from him. Even scared you were the most beautiful thing he ever saw.

• Shan Yu was glad the inn offered him a bath before the feast. His mustachioed was trimmed, his hair combed, his skin cleaned. You couldn't look away, did you notice his yellow eyes? Did you like it? Shan Yu hopes you does.

• Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he took his wolf fur coat and left it among your clothes.

"Do not approach!" You yelled at him, thinking he was undressing to join you. "I'm warning you: I can fight."

Shan Yu chuckled. If he wasn't sure before, now he knows that you were made to be his. You were deciding between running or fighting, but he turned away. "What the hell," you said to yourself.

Walking back to his horse, Shan Yu did his speciality: he planned.

• The stay was extended. Shan Yu ordered his best warriors to watch you. To discover who you were, where you live, what you do. To make sure you would always be safe. Within days, he already knew your routine, your family, your name. And as time went by, Shan Yu decided to act.

It was a quiet night. Snow started to fall, no more travelers for some good months. After spending the day helping your mother keep the house clean and teaching one of your younger friends how to cook a congee, all you wanted was to sleep. And so you did.

But you woke up with breaking glass noise. You jumped out of bed immediately. And when you noticed the silence, you thought you just had a realist nightmare. You lay backdown, snuggling under the sheets, and closed your eyes to sleep again... and someone pulled you by the feet.

You couldn't see who was hurting you, all candles were out, but you felt it's tight grip around your ankles. You felt on the floor, your neck started to burn, the person pulling while you screamed. You bet he didn't think you would react, 'cuz on the moment you had a chance you kicked the man so hard he fell back. Then you kicked his head, putting him to sleep.

You runned to your parents room to get them out of here, but it wasn't a solo job. Three big man guarded the corridor. Moonlit, you noticed that nothing was damaged. That wasn't just a robbery.

"Touch me," you smiled at then, sure they would see it. After tucking a lock behind your ear, you positioned yourself to fight. "And I will beat the shit out of you."

All you remember after was the sound of bones breaking, blood gushing from noses, screams of pain. They tried to get you, but you always knew how to protect yourself. "I've warned you."

You managed to open your parents' bedroom door, and found them gagged on the bed. As brave as you were, you knew you couldn't release them and defend you three. "I'll be back," you promised. Hearing the sound of people entering your house, you opened the bedroom window. "And with help."

And then you jumped.

Barefoot in the snow, you had only one goal: to reach the bell on the wall between the houses. It is only used in emergencies, its ring is almost an announcement of calamities. No one would ignore it.

You just didn't count that more than five men guarded the perimeter of your house. Now it was clear that the Hun army was attacking you, although you didn't understand why. There was only one thing left to do: run.

You managed to contain them, after all that was the land of your house. You knew where every hole, stone, obstacle was.

Climbing the ladder that connects the walls, there was so little left for you to reach the wire and show everyone what was happening. But your foot was pulled, and you landed hard on the floor.

Breathing was difficult. It burned. It was like someone muzzled your chest and asked you to take a deep breath. It hurt so much that you couldn't protect yourself as they lifted you off the ground, pushing you towards something.

When you started to get used to the pain, you tried to run. But someone grabbed your shoulder and kept you still. After a few seconds, you heard steps. The gate of your house was opened, and your blurry vision couldn't focus on the man marchingon your direction. Less than a minute felt like a decade.

"Who hurted her?" A deep, eery voice asked.

As he come closer, you reconized him. The man that handed you his coat on the most creepy way possible. Now, looking closer and without water on your eyelashes, you understood who he really was. And that scared the shit out of you.

A eagle landed on his broad arm. He was armed, but even if he wasn't it would still give you the creeps. He looked like a predator. A big cat ready to attack. He lived up to his fame. That makes you a prey? Shan Yu was looking at you, and you didn't know if he was the last thing you will ever see.

Whoever was holding you decided to let you go. Shan Yu got closer, but you didn't step back. You wanted to, but didn't. If he want something from you, than he better undestand that you will never submit.

"I'm not hurt." It was a lie, but it wasn't just thay. It was you challenging him. "What do you want from me?"

Shan Yu smiled. He wasn't that close to you, but he made you feel so small. It's impossible to look at Shan Yu without feeling weak. "Are you always that brave?"

"That's me being reasonable" you answered. "In order to be brave I would need to be scared. What do you want from me?"

"Your heart." He took a step back. "Care to join me?'

You did, but you also didn't have an option.

Shan Yu led you to his legion. Surrounded by silence, you saw when the four man stepped out of your house. You didn't know what to do or what to expect, but there was something more important then your future. "Did you kill my parents?"

"No." Shan Yu was succinct. "I ordered them to bring you to me, not to hurt you. They will be punished. I promise you."

"I'm not hurt", it was all you were able to say.

Shan Yu sighed. "You can fight, but you can't lie."

After walking for a few minutes, you saw the Hun army. And they were ready to travel again. Thousands of them ready to invade China.

Your parents are safe. If you run, you can go back to your village and warn them about what happened. You could've try, but you didn't.

What they would do? Fight a whole army because one family was attacked? You wouldn't start a war that you know you can't win. You can fight, but not like the Huns. They just didn't expect you to fight back, but they are bigger and stronger than you could ever be.

"You need to rest", Shan Yu woke you up from your thoughts. You noticed that those other men following you weren't there anymore. Your bravery faded away little by little. "Come here."

You could see now where he is walking you. Compared to the others, it was the biggest carriage. The prettiest. It was long, driven by ten horses, made for sleeping. Shan Yu was leading you to his carriage, and that made you want to vomit.

Shan Yu opened the door, and gestured for you to come in. You stepped back. "I won't be your whore."

He frozed. If you have paid attention, you would've noticed the pain in his eyes. But you didn't. "You won't. I would never do this."

"Don't lie to me!"

"I've told you the truth." Shan Yu licked his lips. He never felt so scared. He would... he would never do that. "I will only touch you if you want me to."

"You kidnapped me!" You shout at him. "You hurted me. You hurted my family. Why would I ever believe on what you said?"

Shan Yu moved foward to you. He bent over, looking at you from your height. "I will give you China as a dowry."

You stumbled back. "What did you said?"

"You will be my Empress." Shan Yu smiled at your response. "My heart is yours. I will wait, don't matter how long it takes, for your reciprocal. So please, rest."

You didn't knew how to react. His face, so close to yours, made you swallow hard. It makes no sense. Why would he do that? You ain't a noble or rich or anything like that. That must be a lie. But why would he bother lying?

You walked past him, completely unsure of what to do. You ignored his eyes, scared to see that he speaks the true. Now your surprise was greater than your fear. This can only be a very weird dream. You pinched yourself, but nothing happened.

Inside the carriage, you realized that everything was actually... beautiful. You'd think an army would have no room for beauty, but Shan Yu's gigantic room proved otherwise. Intricately finished wooden tables with maps and plans, sheets of warm, hard-to-sew fabrics, gold religious items. Everything was beautiful. And probably more expensive than your house and everything in it.

Shan Yu closed the door. It wasn't a quiet night anymore.

• You woke up to footsteps in the carriage. You don't remember falling asleep, but at some point you did. It was cold, you were tired, and it was such a comfortable bed. When you got up, you saw people arranging chests in the center of the room. A lady placed a tray on the table, the food on it looked delicious. They were all just smiles for you, a warm feeling almost didn't take over your body.

• Those trunks had your new clothes. Appropriate clothing for cold weather and long trips. It wasn't a dream. No, it really wasn't. Shan Yu is... in love with you? What a weird kind of love. He really chose to kidnap you rather to talk with you? If feels like a story from a fantasy book, not something actually happening on your life.

• But Shan Yu is honorable. Somehow. You saw him fighting: Shan Yu seens to be joking with others life. Sometimes he allows his enemies to have some kind of advantage, just so he can win in a more humiliating way. But he never touched you. Or disrespcted you. Or let anyone treat you badly. And he also care for his army, for his people. So, yeah, honorable. Somehow.

• Shan Yu slept in the same carriage, after all it was his carriage, but not in the same bed. It was strange, but he said he wouldn't leave you alone at such a vulnerable time. You laugh about it, saying that he wouldn't be able to protect you or anything like that if he was sleeping. That very same night, when you both slept together for the first time, you woke up because of the horses. Within a second, Shan Yu was awake, asking if something had happened. Light sleeper: you will be safe.

• You participated in discussions about strategy. And always sitting next to him. One of his trusted men explained the vocabulary you didn't know. Shan Yu insisted for you to be there. Whether it's battle strategy, discussions about money, meetings with the different troops, mapping the path: Shan Yu wanted you there, paying attention and learning.

Riding down the montain on the sorrel he let you choose, Shan Yu was particularly relaxed. "Who taught you how to fight?"

You were also feeling just fine. The weather was mild, the sun warmed you, and riding had finally become second nature. The night before they held a feast in celebration of the end, and victory, of a battle.

"I was an angressive child, and my grandpa always taught me everything he knew." You smiled, but it was a little bit sad. You miss him a lot. "But I don't really know how to fight. I just hit where it hurts, and then I run as fast as I can."

Shan Yu guffaw. "That strategy is... not enterily wrong." His words were positive, but Shan Yu didn't notice he shook his head. You did. "I can teach you."

"Do you have time for that?" Soon your honest question turned into a joke. "Because I can beat you ass anytime."

As time went on, you kind of forgot that you were angry with him. Shan Yu was surprisingly a good listener. And even his coldness could be funny. And he was honest. Never hurted you or forced you to do anything. You don't love him, but you understood your life beside him would be interesting.

You've learned about war, economics, you can tell what each officer in the army does, and you've learned a thing or two about Huns history. Much more interesting than cooking, cleaning and going out to do something that, deep down, was just a way to make yourself more attractive to a good husband. This was no longer a concern. You could be stubborn, annoying, angry, petty: but you don't have to behave to attract a man's gaze. You could just exist, and it was enough for him. It is... liberating. You miss your family and friends, you miss them so much it hurts, but it's not all bad.

"I will take that as a yes."

• The storm changed everything. It was impossible to set a camp down. Shan Yu was leading his army, as he always will, but not even a man strong as him can defeat nature. In a few days with the cold water giving him no time to rest or eat, everyone around Shan Yu could see that he was sick. But he didn't admit it. Saying that he was just fine, he continued to lead the troops.

• His determined nature didn't allow him to rest, but his body couldn't take anymore: he fell of the horse. Shan Yu was treated with the finest medicines, but he didn't woke up. Didn't even move a finger. You stood beside him the whole day, and when the moonlit touched your skin... You were shaking.

• How could he done that to you? Everytime you went out he made you go back to the carriage so you wouldn't get sick. How could he not care about himself the same way? How could he get so hurt without allowing anyone to help him? Shan Yu is a liar. He told you he would never hurt you, but look what he did to you! You can't breath, you can't think, you can't even look at him without feeling that your chest is about to explode. How dare him lie to you?

• Crying, you lay down next to him. You tucked your head onto the chest that moved slowly with shallow breathing, and hugged his broad waist. Your fingers drew disjointed shapes on the boiling skin, your lips murmured prayers to all the gods and ancestors who could hear you. You just wanted a sign that everything was going to be okay. And muttering prayers as you caressed his skin, you fell asleep.

• You woke up to a caress at the small of your back. Your mind took a while to understand what was happening, but as soon as you opened your eyes and saw him, everything ceased to matter. Shan Yu was awake. And he smiling.

"When did you woke up?" You tried to sit down, but his arm around your waist didn't let you. "You need to eat. I gonna call the maesters. How are you feeling? Why didn't you woke me up?!"

"Calm down", his weak voice almost broke your heart, but his tone showed you that Shan Yu was back. "Stay this way. Just a little longer."

"Do you know how scared I was?" You feel like you were about to cry, so you didn't look into his eyes. "Let me go. Let me help you."

"You've never touched me." Shan Yu caressed your cheek, tucking a strand behind your ear. It was so intimate, it made your stomach ache. But it wasn't a bad thing. "You're warm. And soft. And you smell like tears."

"I thought you..." You couldn't say the words. "You didn't react to anything. I thought you were about to die."

"I would have come back to you." His fingers slid to your chin. A delicate touch, too delicate for someone so rough, made you look into his eyes. "I would crawl out of my grave. Not even death can put us apart."

"I missed you." You admited. "I missed you so much. How terrible it is to love something death can touch."

"You love me?" Shan Yu didn't gave you time to answer. "Love me." It wasn't a demand. Shan Yu wasn't ordering. He was begging. "Please."

"I have your heart." You got closer to him. "And you have mine. Don't break it."

"I wouldn't dare."

Next part!

GENERAL TAGLIST: @suakemi @notanalienindisguiseblink

if you enjoyed, please reblog! i promise it makes a difference ♡

@ madwomansapologist.tumblr.

[campbell-rose]

Helluva Rewrite (and some of my personal doodles)

Alrighty, so I finally found the motivation to draw up the entire I.M.P crew and finalize their designs! Introducing my version of the new and improved Immediate Murder Professionals!

I'm so freaking lazy so I didn't add shading or anything extra like that because ughhh. I also decided on some defining traits for imps depending on their ring, but only for the gang and the rings we've seen in the show so far

Wrath imps are larger, stronger, and spikier than other imps. Lust imps have varied bodies, but all have heart shaped barbs on their tails and leathery wings on their lower back. Greed imps are more slender than other imps and often wear jewelry. Gluttony imps are small and fast, high metabolisms so they can gorge. Sloth imps are easy to identify because they usually are just lying there doing fuck all and lack barbs on their tails.

Also, the scarring for imps is the same. White markings indicate scars. In the show I feel like it’s hard to tell what’s a scar (like Blitzo’s facial marks) and what’s a birth mark (like Moxxie’s freckles) so for my own sake, white marks are scars, black marks are birth marks or tattoos, end of story. Millie got her scars from fighting in the wrath ring, Blitzo got his scars from the explosion, and Moxxie’s freckle-like scars are cigarette burns. Should also note that imps are immune to hellfire, but not normal fire because... uhhh idk honestly it just seems more logical. 

~ Helluva cutoff starts here ~

I kinda wanna show off my own imp designs for my little demon thing because helluva boss posts get traction and I just wanted someone to see them, so if you only came here for helluva content, feel free to stop reading lol 

Okay, so I wanted the imps to all look like the same species but at the same time not at all. Essentially the imps in my series are based more on folklore surrounding them. In christian folklore imps are straight up evil, but I want all of my imps to just be little guys. Look at em, they’re just little guys. Imps were sometimes thought of as the familiars of witches, taking forms of different animals, so I wanted some of the imps to look animalistic, but it’s their behavior that reflects it more (which is hard to show in a still doodle). Also the imps are just color coded here so I know which is which, imps aren’t actually these specific colors in my world. 

Greed imps tend to bind themselves to objects that they particularly adore – in some tellings imps were bound to objects like crystals and could be summoned by their masters. So Greed imps often have a specific item bound to them that they guard with their lives.

Sloth imps are the most harmless when they’re tired, it’s when they’re awake that they become the full on imps of folklore. They’re often paid in sugar cubes and used as servants in the sloth ring. 

Gluttony imps are alluding to the fae origin of imps in Germanic folklore, having wings and being generally bug like and little shits. I wanted them to look like pixies almost.

Envy imps are the more attention seeking type who play tricks on humans to garner a reaction. Tricks such as attempting to drown people and such – harmless fun, you know? They’re actually a little based on Kappa I'll admit. 

Lust imps have the habit of snatching babies, as in a lot of demons associated with lust (such as Lilith) tend to be obsessed with babies/pregnancy. The lust imps are nearly infertile, so they love taking babies to raise, then discard them once they’re annoyed.

Pride imps are based on the Lincoln imp (in short an Imp threw a rock at an angel and got turned into stone). They’re fluffy and covered in shiny fur since they live in the frozen layer of hell. Their horns are the largest of all imps, and their biggest source of pride – like if they break their horns, they’d rather die than live with the shame because their horns don’t grow back. 

Wrath imps are based on the old art of imps you can find – bald little creatures with horns and tails. They’re the more feral animalistic imps, often acting on pure instinct and lacking much social structure. They do tend to exercise in their own way, as strength is their greatest feature. 

Anywho if you read all that omg thank you for feeding my ego teehee. But for real, as much as I hate digital, I did enjoy drawing out the imp gang, I might (keyword MIGHT) draw out some rewritten scenes in comic format the most daunting part is actually doing it lmao.

I probably won't shove my own stuff into posts too often, I mostly did it because I wanted to compare my ideas for Imps to Viv's because I think mine are better sorry not sorry lmao. I like to actually research what I'm doing and incorporate it into my art and creations because i think of it like little easter eggs for people who like the things I like. Viv's version of Hell is my least favorite mostly because everything she does feels like bible fanfiction written by a middle schooler who thinks shouting penis in class is the peak of comedy.

[rosedom]

"you have invited CHILDE to a rematch . . . keep your dog on a leash

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!childe, puppy play, collar/leash/dog ears/tail plug, anal play, vaginal sex, riding to g-whiz pipeline, praise + dirty talk, creaming, creampie, alluded aftercare .

A/N : it's about time i continued this（；´д｀）ゞ

"is that correct, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to confirm."

"I thought you were bluffing."

You smile. "What makes you think that, puppy?"

Ajax swallows harshly; the movement of his Adam's apple is enthralling, a nervous up n' down that you follow with your eyes. It's not obstructed quite yet, but the leather in your hands begs to encircle his throat; so, too, does the strip of it that hangs and brushes against your feet.

"I just—" A pitiful whine bleeds into his words as he shakes his head, tilting it obediently back to allow you to clip the collar in place. You gently cup his neck in your hands, satiating that itch of yours.

You tease with a small, "You just?" even as he shifts from leg to leg, the tail-plug you've donned him with a heavy weight in his ass. The tail—a bright orange, the faux fur of it striking against his pale n' scarred skin—only accentuates the pretty headband on the crown of his head, one ear pointed up and one left floppy like a lil' puppydog.

He whines. "Stop teasing." 

"'m not," you defend, albeit weakly for you know you've been caught, red-handed and hands-full of Ajax, releasing him to instead tilt his head up by his jaw and to fiddle with the clasp at the end of the leather strip. It's equal in color to the collar he already wears, and it clicks into place easily; you allow yourself to whistle at it. "Pretty puppy, all leashed up for me."

Of course, any retort or complaint from him falls short when you've got him fixed in your lap; Ajax's body trembles, foot to head, as he softly moans into your own throat. You can feel the cool metal of his dog tag brushing against your skin—just like the way the fur of his tail, still snug inside his ass and pressing against your cock where you're balls-deep in his cunt, tickles at your legs.

Deep and husky, small groans tumble from your throat with each rhythmic clench of his cunt, teased wide from your fingers, earlier, and now stretched to its limit with you buried inside. "Relax, puppy," you have to say, have to stroke his tense thighs with the broad palms of your hands to soothe him.

"I—mm—I can't, you're—" he hiccups, soft and low but keening. "You're too big."

You quietly laugh, but the movement of your torso jostles Ajax slightly and makes his grip across your shoulders tighten. "Sorry, sweet thing," you murmur, letting him relax into you with a bated sigh.

In apology, you run your fingers—feather-light—across the tops of his thighs, jumping from freckle to freckle, and kiss him on the top of his head, right between his pretty puppydog ears. The droopy one brushes your cheek in semblance of a kiss.

It's endearing—cute, even; or rather adorable, like a real puppy, the ones you see across every city—, the way he nuzzles into your throat. You think he'd purr if he could.

(Puppy, kitten: same fucking difference.)

"Pup," you murmur (because this is puppy-play, tonight), thrusting your hips up once, twice. He cries out at the pleasure, at the friction of your pelvis bumping against his sensitive cock.

But then you still, and you gently tug his head out of your throat by the soft n' worn leather leash. "Eyes on me, puppy," you murmur. "Let me see those pretty blues."

His eyes are half-lidded where they meet yours; they're dark and heady, the pupils blown wide. He whines, and his lashes flutter; but they do not close.

"Good boy." A deeper red erupts on his already-ruddy cheeks, spilling down to his neck and his upper chest. The collar is a tantalizing divide.

"Please, please," he whimpers—all fucking puppy-like and cute, and, oh, how you want to ruin him: ruin him, until his ears fall askew and all he can do is helplessly whine into you.

You hold him by his love-handles, the soft, strong fat a perfect fit in your palms, as you begin to gently move him in your lap. His hips roll—back and forth, gentling along like waves lapping against a shore—helped along by your hands; the whole while, you've got the leash held snug in your one hand, pressing against his side.

There is slack, in that leather. After all, the leash—the collar, too, and the tail and the ears—are all a ruse; they all serve a purpose, simply, in allowing Ajax to not only love but to be loved in turn.

He is, in all senses of the word, a puppydog: he's loyal to a fault, putting others—the Tsaritsa, his family, you—above himself. But in this, he is greedy—like you've got a treat dangling in front of his nose, just out of reach but so, so easily able to beg for. And, dog person or not, you're certainly an Ajax person.

After a while of the soft back n' forth, your thighs and cock slicking up more in his and your arousal's both—a mix of your pre—, you decide to up the ante, just a little.

"Hold on, puppy," you murmur, rather sudden. He has all of a second to hold on—hands scrabbling for the hair at the nape of your neck, tugging, grasping on like he's got thick, thumb-less paws—before you're pressing him back and down, belly-up on the mattress.

"Ah!" He yelps out loud, the switch of positions making the plug press further into him. Your cock slips out, but only for a moment; you easily right that wrong, sliding in all smooth and tender. You've got your knees pressed to either side of him, under him, his thighs open across yours and his hips tilted up.

"Ready?" you ask.

Ajax whimpers, and he nods.

"Good." With a parting kiss to his nose, you take tight hold of the leash—the handle of it fitting perfect in your fist—and lean back on your heels. He mewls when your cock drags out, and cries when you pull him back by a hand on his hip.

You're able to move him how you want him—all with one hand. It makes him dizzy, whimpering small, punched out noises with each thrust. "Oh, please!"

What's even better, is the saccharine way he can feel the plug rubbing against your cock, even through his flesh; he arches into you, testing the gentle give in the leash. You follow him, but the pull is a heavy weight; you do not choke him, but it keeps him right where you want him: looking down at where your cock meets his.

"Look at yourself, puppy," you groan out, bringing the leash down to your wrist as you press down into his lower stomach. Your other hand keeps him steady by his hip the whole while, forcing him to meet each thrust of your hips. "Your pretty cunt takes me so well."

He stares, transfixed, at the lewd picture, at the way his cunt is spread wide on you and accepting each bump, each bud against his g-spot.

You grin, devilish. "Look at this thick cock, too," you murmur, dragging your hand down—right through the thick curls at the apex of his thighs, trailing to his navel in a way you so desperately want to lick—to stroke him off. "I can feel it throbbing against me, hm?"

Ajax whines, at that. "I'm so hard for you—"

"All for me?" You gently rub at his cockhead, providing sweet friction against his most sensitive spot. His back arches, more whines spilling from his parted lips, and—and just like you wanted, his ears come askew. "Oh, 'Jax," you coo. "Your ears came off."

You start like you're going to right them, but to do so would mean to dislodge your thumb from his cock; he whines, shakes his head, small pleas and, "No, leave it, 'm so close," circling your ears.

You give him mercy, today. "Puppy's gonna make a mess for me?" you ask, light but groaning, soft moans of your own slipping past your restraint. He's clenching so perfectly around you, throbbing and wet, and his cock jerks against you in a way that sends your mind spinning.

"G'nna cum! Please, please," he starts to beg. "Please, can I cum? I've been—" he hiccups, "—so good for you, haven't I? Haven't I?" It's a testament to how far he's gone that he babbles so endlessly, each plea sending you closer and closer to your own edge.

"You've been perfect for me, puppy," you coo. "Such a good boy for me. G-go on then, cum all over my cock—I'll fill you up, just the way you like it. Gonna fill you up nice n' deep, make sure it all stays in you right where it belongs."

Rather suddenly, Ajax's thighs begin to jump anew, his cock pulsing heavy beneath your fingers—and just like that, he's gone. Pretty n' sticky white, thick and opaque, dribbles past your cock, the base surrounded in the starts of Ajax's release.

"Good boy, good puppy," you murmur, keeping your thrusts even and your thumb gentle against his cockhead. He cries and mewls and whines, ears completely gone now as he thrashes; all the while, the clench of his cunt sends you over your own edge, filling him just like you said you would. "My perfect boy."

You stay pressed deep into him as you move away your fingers from his cock, letting the leash fall from your other hand's tight grip. Little red imprints—hardly harsh, and surely soon to fade away—stay stuck in the freckled skin you leave behind.

"You did so good for me, sweetheart."

He laughs, breathless, whimpering slightly when he jostles your soft cock from its comfortable rest. With a sigh, you pull yourself from his warm, wet cunt, and you watch, enraptured, at the sticky white that clings to your cock, at your cum dripping from his messy hole.

Sweetly, you ask, "Still think I'm bluffing?" even while you tug at the plug in his ass, gentling it out and soothing his whine with a rub against his other hole. (You definitely don't do it to rub the mixture of your cums into his ass, too. Nope!)

He grumbles, once he relaxes into your touch, into the warm cloth you bring up to clean away the mess. "No," he says. "I'm sorry for doubting you."

But then, he grins. "But if doubting you gets this treatment, maybe I should do it more often."

Sly bastard.

oh my god;; i hope i did him justice. he's my good puppy o(*￣▽￣*)ブ also, unrelated: i'm gonna be updating my masterlist tmrrw c; expect more annoying spam on your timelines, i apologize . . .

19 FEB. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[chaoticace2005]

Reasons Angel has stripes/hearts/spots:

1. The spots are from freckles he had while alive, the stripes/hearts are there for another reason

2. He had vitiligo while alive and the marks resemble his skin

3. Scars from when he was alive

4. Scars from when his time in hell, the fur grows back different if there is enough damage.

5. He got tattoos/fur dyed in Hell

6. Could be Val’s way of branding him

7. Could be that he chose to do it if his own volition

8. Could be that he got high and went to a tattoo parlor

9. He got a tattoos while alive that transferred over in Hell

10. He just arrived in Hell with markings because of his past/sins, rather than it being carried over from his body in life.

11. The red stuff Valentino produces dyed him

12. Those aren’t his markings, that’s actually another layer of clothes he wears underneath his clothes

13. He wore his blazer so much that the lines just stained onto his skin

14. He got the stripes when he was placed on a BBQ grill

15. He got the stipes when Arackniss ran him over with a tricycle when they were little.

16. He got the stripes so people can’t tell if he’s wearing clothes or not

17. Got washed in a dryer with red clothes

18. It was the red wine bath

19. He banged the Kool Aid man

20. Some kid drew on him while he was sleeping

21. He’s sponsored by Valentine’s Day, so he needs to advertise for them 247 by representing them

22. Was blessed by Asmodeus, king of Lust

23. It’s not his skin, it’s another spiders that he picked up after their shed and put on

24. It’s makeup he puts on daily

25. Died when his heart gave out on him during an overdose, the world has a shitty sense of humor.

26. Tie dye group activity gone wrong

27. Was told nobody would ever love him so he got hearts in a twisted sense of irony

28. The universe shipped Huskerdust so hard they gave them both hearts in their demon forms

29. All the spots are his eyes. He has many.

[chemicant]

The things they do...

Law, Kid, Zoro, Nami, Robin

I'm outing myself with this simp list, but I just love the way they are

Law

when he pulls on a pair of surgical gloves and they snap onto his hands, the way you can see the dark outlines of his tattoos through the thin layer of latex

the shimmer in his eyes when a carefully laid plan is reaching its finale, he doesn't quite realize himself but his face lights up with child-like anticipation

the way he subconsciously fiddles with an object in the air while deep in thought with a casual wave of his hand

how he sits cross-legged in his chair, hands always tapping out a beat only he can hear onto the arm rests

when he undoes the top buttons or rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, allowing his tattoos to peak through

the way he walks into a room, head up high, an air of effortless confidence

Kid

the way he smells like oil with a subtle metallic undertone, you can't tell if its a remnant of his workshop or the battlefield

everything about the way he works. his tongue sticking out in concentration while he maintains his prosthetic. how he tucks stray strands of hair under his goggles after he pushes them out of his face to take a break

when he swings his fur coat over his shoulders effortlessly with one hand, how it finds its spot draped perfectly over his back

his sadistic smile when he's in the throes of battle, rushing in confidently with a storm of scrap swirling behind him

his face when he's angry, veins pronounced against his pale skin and static in the air. the almost eerie calmness to him that commands the room

how he doesn't seem to register pain, shrugging it off unflinchingly. yet you still catch him at times reflexively massaging his left arm, distracted by the phantom ache

Zoro

how he always sits facing the entrance to a room, always on high alert, watching for danger

the muscles on his unscarred back when you watch him train, how they ripple gracefully with his every movement

when he tugs the bandana off his arm and wraps it around his head with practiced precision

that rare belly laugh he does when he's happy. the one that causes him to throw his head back and crinkle his eyes in spontaneous joy

the weight that each of his movements carry, purposeful and intentional, not a single motion gone to waste

Nami

how she proudly shows off the tattoo on her shoulder blade; along with the pale white scars that run underneath

the gentle dusting of freckles on her face and upper arms, how they glow in the sun

the way the tips of her fingers always smell like zesty orange peels

the sound of her heels clacking against the wooden floorboards of the Sunny

how she sometimes fiddles with her clima-tact, twirling it around her fingers and snapping it to length with a flick of her wrist

Robin

her soft chuckle when she finds something amusing, almost unnoticeable yet so distinct

the way she puts her hair back into a ponytail and pushes up her reading glasses when she's deep into her work

how she loves to listen to what you have to say, but also her animated rants about her passions

how she uses her sunglasses to keep her hair out of her eyes, but a couple strands always come undone to frame her face

the sharp features of her face that are only accented further by her piercing blue eyes