#ship: a steamy romance

[captastra]

Lethyan and Heinrix kissing hugging in the Von Valancius Palace.

[starmahgalaxies]

My aegoromantic heart: you know what will be a good idea?

My head and the rest of me: No.

My heart: You should try to do a lot of ship art by Valentine's Day! Won't that be ~fun~

Me: No.

My heart: Let's do it!

Me: No, please let me sleep.

I feel all artists and creators get this at one point, but for me it's directly linked to my desire to get romantic stuff done while also embracing Aro Week when it comes.

[serhiasilverdawn]

Rommthas? Aemath? lol

[pipcoded]

idk how i got so many interactions on these bots i made it’s kind of insane. i really wanna know what kind of convos people are having w them

[ssaalexblake]

I do maintain that, if emily and tara ever got together, they’d take over the world. 

[malleleothreesome]

Fellow Honest Drunken Confession Feat. Playful Land Cast

(Ch.1 & Ch.2)

🌟 summary: Rewriting the end of Playful Land event where instead of Fellow Honest running away, he tries to convince you and your classmates to go out drinking with him. Cause he's super into you. ༶༶༶ 🌟 warnings: gender neutral reader, SFW so far (undecided on the end), fluff, romance. This is a slice of life comedy. You're just gonna have to go into it blind. Take my word for it. You're gonna love it. If you don't, don't tell me. All characters assumed to be of legal drinking age besides Gidel. ༶༶༶ 🌟 inspired by: this ask from @omo-kitty thank you! ♡✧*:･ﾟ

🌟 song: Trust Fund "Oh, where, oh, where is my trust fund? Why can't I get ahead? 'Cause I have to work My daddy's such a jerk For not givin' me all his cash" ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 4.7k

Fellow Honest lets out an exasperated sigh, perched next to you and your classmates as the massive cruise ship that housed Playfulland amusement park sinks into the ocean’s abyss. With his hands clasped behind his head, a carefree grin lights up his face. 

"You know what?" He asks, turning to you. 

His fox ears twitch atop his head as a salty breeze sifts through his orange hair. Night was encroaching, a half moon suspended in the starry sky, pale and glowing. You stare back into his face, noting the visible points of his fangs, and the tip of his curly orange tail swishing happily. 

Fellow winks as he laughs his signature haughty cackle. "Do you want to grab a drink sometime?"

Ace Trappola perks up at the mention of alcohol and barrels forward, face beaming with naivety. "Hey, free drinks? You're talking to the right person, Man. You gonna let us drink free? I mean, it's like, the least you could do for trying to traffic us, am I right?" 

Trey Clover hisses, “Ace!!!” in a desperate (and failed) attempt to shut him up. 

Fellow regards the spectacle with the blankest of stares, his ear flicking as a whisper of a wince flickers across his visage.

The monster of a man tilts his head and smiles slyly to you—and only you. 

His eyes sweep you up and down as he croons, "just you and me, Hot Stuff. We're talking romantic, steamy even. We’re connected… don't deny it. Whaddaya say?" 

Fellow steps closer, tongue running along his canines as he looks you up and down with a cheeky grin and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. "You, me, alone, drinking, talking... I'll be real good to you—I'm an honest guy! All my business is legit now!" 

He throws his head back, and with a flourish of his arms, roars with a particularly raucous laughter. Upon composing himself, his piercing orange eyes turn sharp, and he flashes you another lecherous look. A smirk plays on the corner of his lips, an eyebrow rises suggestively. Fellow leans to whisper in your ear, lingering in the electricity of your aura a bit too long before speaking. You shiver. 

His voice drops to a low, suggestive purr as hot breath grazes your neck, "but, if you like, a little bit naughty ain't out of the question... "

Before you can respond, Ace—unable to be subdued by Trey—makes his way back over and elbows you in the arm. As clueless as ever, his freckled cheeks flush bright pink from excitement. 

"Free drinks, Bro! He's an underworld mobster, Dude—a high ranking one—we'll be VIPs anywhere we go. We’ll be sipping absolute top shelf… not that gross, warm piss from a barrel everyone else gets!" 

Ace is giving the performance of his lifetime, gripping his heart and holding out his arms in utter theatrics, then leaning heavily on your shoulder. 

"Free… top shelf… liquor!" Ace shouts to the rest of your classmates, waving them over.

Fellow's eyebrow elevates further, threatening to leave the confines of his forehead. His eyes remain dead, cold. His tail, for once, stays perfectly still, frozen in an upright arch. When his lips part in a rigid smile and his shoulders begin to shake, a venomous displeasure radiates from him, palpable enough for you to feel on your own skin. Out of his mouth spills a jumble of fragmented curse words and giggles. You look at him in mild alarm, unsure if he has finally reached a state of losing his goddamn mind, or if he's about to commit a violent murder—starting with Ace.

Fellow holds up both gloved palms, covering his face. Slowly shaking his head, he doubles over, wiping away tears of hysteria in an uproarious guffaw. You are stunned, staring as Fellow wheezes and struggles to get ahold of his faculties. 

Catching his breath, he throws back his head and bellows with unrestrained joy, "The sheer audacity! The unmitigated gumption of this fool—oh my GOD.”

In a valiant effort to calm himself, he holds up his hands, as if praying, a wicked grin plastered across his face. Ace squints suspiciously at his antics, still totally clueless to Fellow's intent. Trey shakes his head slowly, rubbing his face in abject defeat, looking as if he's willing his brain to purge the trauma of ever coming to this place. 

Fellow breathes deeply. "Sorry, sorry, it's just funny, oh my God. Wow. He has some balls on him, I'll give him that! I really admire the gall. You know what? This brat might have a career in the biz." The fox beastman reaches out and condescendingly ruffles Ace's head of red hair.

"Alright, tough guy. Yeah, let's go get boozed. And hey, little Bastard—" his fiendish grin takes a more sinister tone, fangs slightly exposed. "Just so you know, if your pathetic college didn't send that sweetheart…” He winks suggestively at you, before his eyes wander across the crowd of students, utterly unimpressed, “I'd never be letting any of you idiots go. No way! I’d have dragged each of you back to my boss by force. Don't test my generosity or my kindness." 

Smirking, he shoves his finger into Ace's face, leaning towards him with intent to intimidate.

Fellow takes a sharp inhale and clasps his hands shut. "Now, just for fun, let's get liquored up on the highest rooftop bar, play some poker, do a little dancing..." His eyes flit back over to you— "...maybe some smooches, hey?" A foxy yip punctuates his sentence. His eyes return back to Ace, whose lips are pressed in a firm, disapproving line. Fellow's eyebrow twitches with delight as he takes in Ace's defiance, biting his lip for a second so as not to cackle.

"There isn't going to be any 'VIP treatment,' 'free drinks,’ or 'top shelf.' Is that clear? Who do you think I am? You think I like doing that type of shit?" 

He points to the water, gesturing to the decimated remnants of the amusement park. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Kid, people don't do those types of jobs because they're loaded.” 

He leans down to get eye level with Ace, using expressive jazz hands and a pompous voice. “'Oh, man, my yacht's all paid off and ready, better become a goddamn kidnapping organ trafficker—oh, the glamor! The luxury!' Do you understand what I'm saying, you dinky little shit?"

You can't help it—you burst out laughing. His grin returns full force, and he winks at you knowingly. He looks back to your classmates, and you consider his movements. The pure self-assurance in his stride, his careless and brazen attitude, his cheeky cockiness—intricate pieces of exactly what drew you to him initially. While his irreverence for any societal construct has both scared and enamored you, the sheer madness he exhibits on a regular basis is so addictive. How could you deny a guy with this level of audacity? You really, really want to give it a whirl—experiment with what might be if you throw caution to the wind.

His smile grows, noting the chagrin across your classmate's faces. Fellow gestures dramatically once more, his gloved hands clawing through the air, his gesticulations growing increasingly overzealous as he waxes poetic on the harsh realities of adult life. 

"So, listen up. Listen very carefully. Picture this: I'm poor. I'm scrappy. I was homeless. I don't even own the suit you're seeing right now! My clothes are stolen off the street." His expression darkens, ears and tail drooping, shoulders slumped, and head lowered. For a fleeting, transitory instant, there's an indiscernible emotion that flickers through his eyes—something genuine that betrays his frivolity. "That boy is the only family I have, and we've got nothing to our name."

He stares forward at something only he can see, his gaze boring a hole into the horizon. It is a wistful, haunted gaze, a longing and lost memory in his eyes, a sad sigh that drifts on a gentle summer breeze, lost within its dreams. "Not a single thing. Just the two of us, struggling and barely making ends meet, scraping by in this horrible, unforgiving, greedy world that cares not for the innocent and goodhearted folk. We need to be greedy. Selfish, if we want to keep each other safe. So, excuse me for being just a tad on the offensive side, you entitled fucking brats! I had to be the strongest so I could support the both of us. You truly know nothing about suffering—this isn't a pretty life to have and it isn't fair, yet, what can you do? Adapt, or die. There is no romanticism about hunger, about living like animals, constantly scrambling for scraps of food like the world is a bottomless garbage can and you are its filthiest dog." The sardonic chuckle he gives isn't unkind, merely tinged with bittersweet longing. You reach a hand out, resting it on his shoulder, and his fingers close over it with a soft caress.

There's a touch of vulnerability in his eyes, and his words strike a cord that resonates deeply within your soul. Though it hurts and grieves you, his explanation was enough for you—a starting point of understanding, as you accept him exactly for who he is. You see beyond the facade—the sheer intensity of the desperation that underlines his words and actions, that hollowness within him that yearns for more than the world can provide. 

Fellow seemed to awaken with greater purpose when you looked into his soul and told him he didn't have to do bad things. Something shifts in his eyes as he considers new paths. You see the stitches holding his tattered spirit together loosen slightly, revealing glimpses of his raw wounds, the aches and scars that he buries with sarcasm and callousness. His vibrant, intelligent, playful nature deserves more—his life isn't meant to be wasted, yet he feels as if that's precisely what he has done, resigning himself to this existence of bitter hatred against the world. When you meet his gaze, you feel a tenderness blooming in the chilly winter frost of his chest, like the first glimpse of spring. At last, you can sense the farce crumble, and the real Fellow taking shape underneath. You wish you could spend the rest of the evening talking to him. 

Fellow's fingers remain intertwined with yours as the moment passes and his flirtation returns. There is an uncanny ease with which the man is able to keep his expression blank while swapping personalities, as if each identity is a costume he wears as long as it suits him. A fleeting look of sadness drifts over him before being replaced by his cheeky, foxy smirk. He reasserts the cocky, irreverent demeanor—his favorite cloak. His orange eyes flit towards yours before gazing into the crowd of your classmates. You squeeze his palm reassuringly, and he beams down at you with gratitude. His finger swipes across your cheek, gently brushing it.

Fellow smiles his carefree smile, but there's a warmth and gentleness behind his orange gaze now. 

"All that being said,'' the beastman claps his hands together, grinning widely and putting on another showman's performance, "I bet I could do a little persuading to get us some free booze. We're going drinking, my new friends!" He throws his hands up jovially. 

A chorus of voices in front of him ring out in dissonance at the thought, except for Ace—who is whooping and hollering triumphantly, and Kalim, who is cheering in earnest. Before the rest of your classmates have time to voice their objections, Fellow shouts out, pointing at everyone, a finger dramatically extending in the air.

"Ah, ah ah—none of your whining and sniveling bullshit, you snot-nosed punklings. We're all getting our rocks off tonight and it's on me. Consider this the apology tour for almost making you all... well, go into involuntary servitude, to put it lightly." 

The corner of his lips twitch as his orange eyes scan the crowd for recognition, yet remain friendly despite his teasing. 

"Besides, a celebration is due! What I learned tonight was so startling to me—I did not foresee myself going down an honest path, a career in helping the helpless. This is truly life-altering, and it's all thanks to you folks." 

Another moment of vulnerability flickers in his eyes and his mouth is slack, letting the raw honesty and realization of change settle. A stunned silence from the crowd ensues.

Flailing his arms wildly to keep up and air of lightheartedness, Fellow huffs, the first signs of exertion finally showing. He was beaten up pretty badly while trying to detain your classmates, after all. He continues his pitch. 

"Of course, no hard feelings or anything. Just a nice fun night, free drinks, music, laughter—how could any of you possibly turn down such a gift?" 

With a grin and a gesture to the amusement park's busted entrance gate, he declares his final verdict. 

"It is your final day off before a lifetime of school, study, stress and commitment to society—your youth is ending, friends. Embrace this wonderful last sunset of freedom—because by tomorrow, we will all be under the yoke of labor, spending our lives slaving away to pay rent while we deal with taxes and the true horror of capitalism! At least, those without trust funds, right? Hah." 

Once more, your classmates all clamor with protests. 

"Like Hell I’m goin’ out drinking with that guy! Don't take orders from that shady jackass," Leona roars through the crowd.

Fellow’s scowls, tail swishing vehemently back and forth. 

"Ya just met him yesterday and he was about to sell us all off! Does a sociopath's Nice Guy act not make you the least bit suspicious or even nervous? Don't fall for it. No one's that forgivin' or stupid." Leona stares coldly at the conman with an indignant sniff as he crosses his arms over his broad chest.

Vil stands with his arms crossed as well, but his posture and expression exude boredom as he blows out an annoyed exhale, visibly judging his idiot classmates. "Unfortunately, I have to agree with Leona once again," he chimes in, ignoring the aggravated huff from the Savanaclaw dorm leader. "Our kidnapper is insistent on buying us drinks? Who does that?! Clearly, this guy has something up his sleeve." Vil clicks his tongue derisively, and flicks his purple hair over his shoulder in dismission.

Floyd, ignoring the forewarnings entirely, throws his arms up happily. He bellows, "hell yeah! What's better than a night of heavy partying to lighten up the mood, right? Bring it on. There's alcohol involved? It’s free? I’m in." He giggles maniacally, wrapping an arm around Fellow to pull him in for an enthusiastic noogie (and completely ignoring the pained squeaks coming out of the conman's mouth). Floyd’s twin brother, Jade, grins in agreement to the proposal.

Trey adjusts his glasses nervously, brows knitting and mouth stuck in a grimace. He opens mouth and closes his mouth a few times before suggesting, with trepidation, “it is... quite unusual for him to take us out drinking all of a sudden... are we sure this isn't some sort of trap, or a game, or—"

Trey is cut off by a loud groan from Ace. "Weren't you guys paying attention?!" Ace shakes his head rapidly and scoffs with derision. "He's obviously trying to get into Y/n's pants! The guy's totally thirsty! How are you not seeing this? He was checking Y/n out when he was doing all that crazy shit in the amusement park." 

A tense moment of silence falls across your class as they turn their heads towards you, eyeing you with surprise. "He's been hitting on the prefect this entire time! His weird-ass obsession is for real—no joke or scam. He's interested, I know it when I see it. He knows Y/n's not gonna go unless he takes all of us. So, like... yes, of course I'm into free beer!" 

Ace's red eyes gleam like he's just discovered the polio vaccine, proud of his insightfulness and intellect. The other students look back and forth between you and the notorious criminal fox beastman, noting his nonplussed smirk, calm tail wagging, and the way in which his ears prick up in excitement at the conversation about you.

Another uncomfortable moment passes. Your cheeks feel warm, knowing everyone's eyes are still on you, but you can’t bring yourself to meet them. 

Kalim claps his hands together and chirps, "oh yeah, come to think of it, he does seem like he's super fond of you! All his cute talk and that sparkle he gets in his eyes when he looks at you and listens to your every word—he clearly really, really likes you, Y/n! That's totally awesome you found someone special in such a dark place!" 

Kalim is—almost comically—unaffected by Fellow's unsavory reputation. "And isn't it great if he's truly starting down a righteous path instead of being a bad criminal who hurts and steals from people? We've got to support him, this could be his fresh start! We're his friends, and that's what friends are for—they help each other out. We'll save him from evil!" 

Kalim is positively beaming now, his energy infectiously reassuring and radiant. "I’m looking forward to a fun night, count me in!" 

Leona scrunches up his face and screws his eyes shut before looking into the distance. It’s as if his consciousness has departed, from the sheer idiocy of this conversation. 

“How much has that fuckin' clown got you brainwashed already to make you spout such delusions of grandeur?!" He gapes at Kalim's relentless positivity. "C'mon Jack, we're goin' back. They can handle themselves." Without a backward glance, he walks away, trusting that the freshman will follow suit.

With a short sigh of resignation and a brief incline of his head, Jack follows along in his dorm leader's wake. "Sorry, guys," he murmurs. "I gotta agree with my Housewarden. Something doesn't feel right. Hope to see you all later." The wolf man turns his back and trots to catch up with Leona.

Fellow wears an indecipherable expression as he watches them leave. The muscles around his eye twitch slightly and an ear has flattened against his hair in annoyance. Though Fellow is doing his level best to remain unaffected by the sour reactions, a tiny tendril of disappointment wavers briefly over his features. His resolve steels, yet he keeps his smile, resolutely ignoring their mutterings as his fox tail sweeps side to side. His body language remains relatively casual and open, save for a subtle defensive set in his posture and shoulders. He stands a little taller in an attempt to maintain his cool.

Vil scoffs and walks over to the gate, holding up his perfectly manicured hands in mock surrender. "There's no amount of liquor on the planet worth suffering his disgusting presence or getting tangled in whatever diabolic schemes he's attempting. He's a repugnant vagabond with nothing but deceit and manipulation oozing from his vile, malicious tongue. Y/n, you can do far better—really, anyone with a proper background and education instead of someone from the fringes of society who can't even feed himself." 

With a flip of his hair, Vil sniffs dismissively. He gives you one last look of disapproval before strolling away in search of a less irritating place to be.

Ace begins to panic, feeling his chance at free drinks slipping through his fingers. "Wai- Wait- wait, WAIT—everybody STOP," Ace frantically exclaims in desperation. "Come back, you can't just leave! Come on! There’s free alcohol at stake here! Please?! Dammit. UGH!" 

Vil's words seemed to hit home. Fellow's unbreakable poker face crumbles as his ears pull down flat against his scalp. His tail stiffens, lowering between his legs in utter humiliation. The fox beastman swallows thickly as the tides of his happiness drain. Gidel scurries up to Fellow and places a hand gently on his back to console his guardian. Fellow tries to plaster a makeshift grin back on, but his pain bleeds through, brow furrowed and eyes darting, suddenly unable to meet your gaze.

Ace blinks and smiles awkwardly before muttering, "Well, now I actually feel pretty bad." His freckled face reddens slightly, cheeks taking on a darker tinge of rose as the color creeps out to his ears. A soft, self-conscious laugh tumbles from his mouth. He runs a hand through his copper-red hair, clearly caught somewhere between guilt and shame—internal conflict is evident. 

Despite all the flippant, disrespectful comments, teasing and general disregard Ace has shown Fellow, this complete and public emotional breakdown appears to hit Ace harder than he'd care to admit, and perhaps—just maybe—a faint sense of kinship forms at the connection he sees between himself and the conman. Two jovial and clownish individuals—born entertainers. Suddenly, this moment strikes Ace more so than anything else Fellow has said or done thus far, leaving the redhead oddly touched. It’s as if his own heart was personally struck by the kind, selfless soul Fellow seems to be deep down, no matter how hard the foxman tries to keep it buried.

"Listen, man," Ace smiles shyly, shifting from foot to foot with his thumbs stuck in his belt loops. "You know, even if nobody else says it, I, uh... Well... If you're going straight," Ace chuckles, clearing his throat, "like you say, then you're pretty cool. Besides, all your antics are pretty funny. And... The way you really care for him..." Ace stares with admiration, nodding his head towards Gidel, voice low with reverence. His cheeks are completely red now, unable to formulate words, just awkwardly shuffling around trying to escape his own embarrassment. 

"You're a... a really good big brother. You know," He sputters, blinking and glancing to the side before slowly looking back at Fellow, and then you. "So... Just forget about Vil's stupid bullshit and move on. Because..." He pauses for a second before nodding assuredly, his confidence growing. "Because you've got plenty to give! It might not feel like it, and sometimes there will be a moment where all seems lost..."

You shake your head in disbelief. Had Ace just openly spoken words of wisdom? Such kind words, too—from him of all people! That, surely, is the sign of an actual miracle happening, since Ace, your dearest friend, is not typically one for… sincerity. ‘Shocking’ would be an understatement. Ace's friendly gaze causes Fellow's orange eyes to grow glassy. Your classmates, equally as stunned, stare at Ace in open astonishment.

Ace presses on with his impromptu speech, conveying the utmost sincerity, "You've got to be strong and push past your misfortune, and not allow yourself to think you're not worthy of love or care." His smile grows warmer and he turns his face to you, making brief eye contact before casting his gaze back towards Fellow. "I just know that somewhere out there, a happy life awaits you... and maybe... there's someone wonderful to share it with."

Now why would Ace allude to you when you haven't even decided your feelings yet? You quickly turn around to conceal the rising flush in your cheeks. You’re somewhere between mortified and thrilled for Ace to publicly express his support of your romance. Nerves flood your stomach—the anticipation, the prospect of falling in love has made you equal parts anxious and giddy. A mixture of euphoria and despair hits you all at once—how beautiful to acknowledge your affections for the fox man—yet, can you commit?

You look over at Cater and mouth with abject horror: 'What the fuck is going on?'

Cater looks thoroughly entertained by the entire event, flashing you a thumbs up. He bites his lower lip, silently giggling to himself. He snaps a picture of you on his phone—the audacity.

Cater mouths back, “looks like someone has a cru-ush.” 

Your face displays all of your confusion. “Stop—shh—be serious, this is real,” you whisper, stifling a tiny, strained giggle and putting an end to the banter by sternly holding out your index finger.

This is too much—too fast—you feel helpless, swept up in the stormy waves of fate and romance. One single day has dragged on and on, as if stretched forever by the overwhelming events of your trip. Even Fellow's unexpected change of heart is but a fleeting part of some fever dream—it couldn’t have all been real. An insane whirlwind romance, a kidnapping, a deadly amusement park, and a desperate con artist—who you’ve become increasingly drawn to. This has been one of the strangest experiences of your entire life.

Glancing quickly over your shoulder, you catch Gidel grinning and bouncing happily, his eyes bright with energy, seemingly thrilled at the idea of you and Fellow becoming partners. His excitement is contagious, and it only adds fuel to the fire in your heart. To know the little boy holds high hopes for the two of you—maybe something is already blooming? Blood pounds in your veins and a tightness builds in your chest, causing your heartbeat to drum ever faster as Fellow takes a step toward you.

He gently turns you to face him. His grip is strong, yet soft. A twinge of hope tugs at the corners of his lips, though his posture betrays his vulnerability and fear of rejection. His interest in you is palpable, and the seriousness of the impending moment makes you want to run away. As hesitant as you are to admit it, you definitely feel a connection to this man—one beyond lust. A deeper bond transcends physical attraction, as if your hearts are bound, stitched with a million red puppet strings of fate. With each pump of blood, another thread pulls taut, drawing the two of you closer together.

You're nervous, embarrassed, and entirely unsure of what you want. In an attempt to stall, you address your remaining classmates. "Well, I sure could use a drink right now! How about it?" Slight panic italicizes your statement.

Ace raises his hands in the air with triumph. "Fuck yeah," he laughs, looking around eagerly. Cater looks relieved to have the perfect excuse to drink a ridiculous amount of booze without getting nagged by Riddle for acting inappropriate. Trey sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose in a strained manner, as if resisting another stress-related aneurysm. He nods with resignation that he won't be back at Heartslabyul any time soon, committing himself to making sure none of the trouble-making underclassmen get up to their usual antics of havoc, mayhem and chaos. You catch Trey mutter, "I will definitely regret this," to himself, but you still allow a surge of gratitude wash over your anxious heart at his kind gesture.

Lilia's laughter rings out, the night breeze sweeping back his hair to reveal a playful grin. "The Pop Music Club is always down for a fun time. This will be the perfect opportunity for me to show Kalim and Cater how to really party! Oh, what a splendid evening this will be," he gleams, patting his clubmates heartily on the shoulders. They both gulp, nervous about his declaration.

The gentle moonlight reflecting off the ocean catches Lilia's irises in a breathtaking display of shimmering crimson. In a flash, he materializes in front of Fellow, nearly scaring the poor fox out of his skin. Lilia's lips are curled in a wide, sly smile and he stares deep into his soul. 

After a moment of silence, he narrows his eyes and clicks his tongue, stepping forward and speaking conspiratorially. "But tell me the truth. What really is the score on this entire set-up?" The sinister, terrifying nature Lilia exhibits makes Fellow's ears tremble and tail swish madly in defense, eyes large and alert. Fellow lets out a nervous yelp, frozen as the staring contest commences. After what appears to be some type of mental standoff, the vampire's demeanor eases. 

Lilia puts a comforting arm around Fellow and hugs him to his side, eyes glowing brighter. "Ah, young love! So fun to watch! You two have my blessing," Lilia beams at the stupefied Fellow, whose ears still lay flat against his scalp in terror. His tail is tucked tightly between his legs in an act of submission, a concession of defeat.

With that, your classmates trail out of the boardwalk, away from the ruins of the defunct Amusement Park. Their loud banter fills the night air, a jovial cacophony of nonsense and delirium. Fellow places one hand between Gidel's shoulder blades to gently guide him along, and he extends his other to you, silently inviting you to interlace your fingers with his. His expression is relaxed and expectant—but his eyes show his nerves. His smooth, gloved palm envelops your hand and together, the three of you follow your classmates.

🌟 song: Violence (Club Mix) - Grimes ༶༶༶ 🌟 word count: 1.8k

The dark streets of the city are lit in an amber glow from the many shops that stay open late, with neon signs boasting special deals and hot food creating a gorgeous rainbow of flashing colors in the night. Bustling crowds move briskly, pouring in from all directions. They mill around, eager to engage in the nightlife of the entertainment district, excited to partake in their desired sins. You follow a group of partygoers through an arching entranceway that has the phrase 'Hell's Den' lit above the metalwork in garish crimson lights. Passing underneath the grand entrance and entering the gaudy exterior is another world of sound, color and light—a vibrancy not meant for the meek. The entirety of the complex is covered with glowing tiles, casting a radiant aura in such a dazzling fashion it reminds you of a place in your home world: Las Vegas.

Welcoming aromas of cigarettes, alcohol, and cheap cologne, and the buzzing, neon atmosphere draws a content sigh from Fellow. The wide array of faces passing by—all of them new and shining with happiness, seeking to escape their own respective realities. There is something inspiring about this bustling den of iniquity. The electricity that percolates within the underground is like a shot of adrenalin. It's pure magic. It is no wonder all of this serves as an irresistible lure for those craving freedom. In this night-city, any sinner can find solace.

As you pass the main foyer of Hell's Den, an enormous set of double doors lies ahead. Three large, burly bouncers loiter at the entrance and peer closely at you all.

"Now what do we have here?" the bouncer booms, zeroing in on Gidel. The bouncer points towards the kid, accusatory. "Ain't he a little young for this joint?"

All heads turn towards Gidel, who stands proud and fearless in the face of these mountainous men. While most everyone else shifts nervously, Gidel plants his little hands on his hips and looks up at the bouncers unabashed, pursing his lips in an indignant pout and giving an extra little sassy bob of his head. He stands his ground with the cold, fierce and commanding presence of someone much older. The way his stance radiates authority, even in the face of danger, is both admirable and comical. The usual slouching and youthfulness of his mannerisms and body language are totally eradicated as the imperious stare he fixes on the bouncers bears down. Gidel is a fearless soldier—a fiercely determined, stalwart pillar in the face of adversity, daring the guards to deny him passage.

"You wound me, good sir," Fellow puts a gloved hand to his heart in a mock sign of hurt. "Of course, he is of drinking age. How insulting!" He levels them with his withering orange gaze. The muscle men shift uneasily at his silent challenge—the cocky facade is his customary tactic for warding off hostilities before they could grow and take root. "This here," he grabs the glowering Gidel, patting the child proudly on the head, "is the eldest of our party." The bouncers look at each other, then at the boy, then back to Fellow. The sheer absurdity of Fellow's statement is undeniable—no reasonable person would buy it.

Fellow goes on. "Cater, are you seeing this shit? Discrimination, in this day and age? Put these nitwits on blast," Fellow gestures to Cater's phone, and Cater begins filming. Gidel points aggressively at the bouncer, shaking his little index finger with the might of his wrath, as Fellow declares loudly, "I want everyone to know—this place is not welcome to those of different social stations, based on age or appearance. This is preposterous!" He turns his attention back to the bouncers, widening his arms to the gathering crowd.

"Bigotry, ageism, it's so awful! No wonder Gidel hides the fact that he's over 2,000 years old. Now I see why the man refuses to share the wisdom he's collected, the amazing anecdotes and experiences, and the undeniable brilliance he could impart upon the world—instead, he hides, ashamed, all due to the abuse he receives on a daily basis from these types of buffoons!" 

The surrounding individuals stare in stunned silence. "It's not Gidel who is the child here, but all of you. People should not be judged so harshly due to their appearance. Everyone should be accepted—their ideas, actions, and experiences embraced with respect, despite physical differences that set them apart. Everyone must be loved and appreciated, for there are precious gems everywhere we look in this beautiful world. The rich, diverse community of people who inhabit this planet should be able to share with all, learn from one another and work together in unity, free to be who they are without harassment!"

The neon light catches fresh tears running down various faces in the crowd. To add further insult to the bouncers’ injuries, Royal Sword Academy's Seven Dwarves—who happened to be waiting to get into the same bar—stare daggers at the gatekeepers and gather near Gidel in solidarity. Their angry, diminutive stature radiates powerful force when unified against a common enemy—it is truly a frightening sight to behold.

In one single swoop, Fellow swings public opinion in Gidel’s favor, inciting rage to right the wrong. The fervor of the crowd continues to rise. "Please, show our precious elder the respect he deserves. Do not look at him and see a mere child—look into his eyes to the aged visage beneath." His orange gaze bores into the guards. "Can you not sense his inner radiance, the power and splendor of his soul, and the treasures locked away within? Don't allow your prejudices and expectations to hold him back. Or you, for that matter. The sheer fact of his youthful appearance is no obstacle to greatness! And as long as you carry this narrow-minded sentiment, you will forever be barred from ever knowing the greatest secrets of the universe. Remember, folks! In the end, it isn't your status, money, or popularity that ultimately leads to a better future! It's our kindness, compassion, and tolerance." The conman punctuates his powerful speech with a satisfied swish of his fluffy tail, and the crowd cheers wildly in approval.

Cater is eating this up. His thumbs frantically type out a lengthy post that ends with his signature sparkling diamond hashtags, creating the most glorious online discourse. 

Trey is lost in thought, muttering to himself, "he does have the right idea, maybe he'd make a good Headmage after all." 

Kalim stares intently, with a faraway gleam in his eye, utterly entranced by Fellow. He’s just about ready to sign up for a personal tutoring session on the topic of the Universal Principles. 

The rest of your classmates have the most deadpan expression on their faces, looking at each other and silently communicating how deeply uninterested they all are at witnessing this bizarre, disturbing spectacle for the umpteenth time.

The guards can’t hide their bewilderment, and they reluctantly backpedal to let your group inside. You and Cater share a mischievous smile, impressed at Fellow's antics. 

Your devious fox pulls you flush to his body, ushering you into the club with a sly wink. "Shall we, dearest Y/n? Let’s make our debut, hmm?" He smirks in the direction of his brother as he spins you around, all while moving backwards into the bar. He bows deeply and gestures elegantly, indicating you should head inside first. You can't help giggling, covering your mouth to conceal the toothy grin that betrays your giddiness as you make your way inside. His eyes travel up and down your frame, marveling at your swaying hips, devouring every curve. His suggestive tongue wets his bottom lip before he bites it, fangs now visible. You're almost ashamed of how attracted you are to him.

Your classmates follow like ducklings trailing a parent, curious to see where the night will take them and if any of it will be blackmail-worthy. How amusing. They muffle laughter at Fellow's narcissistic flamboyance and over-exaggerated antics, taking note of every ridiculous attempt to woo you. A few pretend to gag, exchanging distressed, strained expressions—a theatrical attempt to shove down the raw, unbridled horror they feel at the thought of having to live through another performance of the clown show.

You're not even sure if he wears a persona—a true entertainer, for the thrill of it all—or if he's trying on sincerity for once. You suspect he's a walking caricature of his own making. Even so, the raw energy and manicured showmanship are alluring. His penchant for high-pitched laughter and dramatized emotion adds levity to an otherwise dark situation—something about it really tickles you. His potentially-feigned amusement lights up his impossibly expressive face in a manner that is genuinely contagious.

Slowly taking in your surroundings, your mouth falls slightly open. This was no ordinary dive bar—this was a full on club. A disco ball hangs from the ceiling, dispersing kaleidoscopic beams of color and light throughout the space. The rhythm throbs, perfectly synced with the strobe—each flash of luminescence reveals a slightly new scene. Sweaty bodies bend and sway to the thumping, seductive beat—you’re so ready to join them. Every face around you morphs into carefree bliss. From behind you, Fellow's presence is electrifying, playfully tracing his fingertips across the curve of your lower back as he leads you to the bar. His hand lightly smacks your ass, as if in approval, and your face warms. The effervescent air and residual excitement of escaping death creates an aphrodisiac unlike anything you’ve experienced. The pulsing bass, Fellow's slightly-territorial hand on your hip, and his sensual gaze makes your heart thump erratically. An aching want—no, need—simmers beneath your skin.

"May I get you a drink?" 

Fellow's soft words pull you from your daze, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes appraises your dilated pupils. His toothy grin widens. 

"You prefer sweet, don’t you? I know just the thing." 

He studies you lasciviously. 

"Freshly-squeezed juices and top shelf liqueurs always do the trick. I just love the taste of cherries." 

He brings his hand up to your cheek, the pads of his fingers hovering over the shell of your ear before landing around a stray tendril of hair. He twirls the silky strand between his gloved fingers and tucks it gently behind your ear. Tantalizing.

"Yes, please. That sounds delicious."

You giggle nervously, unable to break eye contact. You hadn’t noticed how full his lips were—the bottom pout most inviting. You hope he doesn't notice you gulp.

Somehow, the man's smile grows even bigger. He takes your hand in his, clasping it tightly and bringing it up to his mouth to plant a soft, chaste kiss. 

"Wait right here for me, won't you, my dear? I'll be back in a heartbeat." 

With a spin, he dances his way through the crowd towards the bartender, expertly navigating the chaos. You stand there dumbfounded, unable to keep the affection from blossoming in your chest; full, red, and so tight that you're afraid it might burst.

Hi, it's me again. Erica. The girl who said "my goal for 2024 is to spend the whole year writing!" Yeah. Sorry about that. Turns out that life sucks and writing is hard. I'm doing my best out here, though. I hope y'all enjoy this one! This shit really makes me laugh, so I hope you laughed too. If you want to create any art based on a scene from this, PLEASE do. I've already started working on chapter 3. I hope it won't take me forever to finish this story but, I'm really just taking my time with it. By "it" I mean, you know, getting to the whole point of this request, which is where Fellow Honest drunkenly confesses to you. But as you can see, we are going on a whole journey, here. I hope you love it! That's why I'm calling it a slice of life. I hope I get to talk to you all again really soon, in my next writing, which I hope... will be... soon. Love you all dearly, ❤️ Erica Malleleothreesome. P.S. I'll be at Anime Expo at the beginning of July. Come say hi!

[libraryoffandomsuniverse]

Trust

Series masterlist

YNN: your nickname

My first time writing something steamy (ish). Hopefully it's not too clunky.

Sometimes romance is a date to a restaurant. Sometimes it's plotting murder together. 😉

~~~

"I want him dead."

Although she spoke quietly, Rhaenyra's voice seemed to echo around the room.

You twisted your head to look at her in disbelief. You had just finished making love after hours. You'd coaxed her to pleasure several times using your hands, mouth and cock. How could your darling wife be thinking about murder when you were still barely capable of stringing words together?

"I need you to repeat that," you said slowly, "because it almost sounds like I haven't made you come enough if you're thinking about murder. It's not mine, is it?"

She giggled and moved closer, resting her head on your shoulder. Your arms instantly wrapped around her, an echo of the countless times you'd held each other like this before.

"Of course it's not you," she rubbed your chest in reassurance. "I'm talking about Otto Hightower."

At the mention of the Hand, your good mood plummeted.

Ever since Lord Strong's resignation, you had been cursed with Ser Otto's presence. The fact that he became the Hand again was beyond a joke, given that his ambitions to make his grandson Aegon King was a secret only to Viserys.

The sight of Queen Alicent strutting around the Red Keep with her supporters flaunting their green robes made you seethe. Coupled with the divide between both camps of supporters and it made for an increasingly poisonous atmosphere in court.

You and Rhaenyra had not been idle. The return of your father as Master of Ships, along with your promotion to Master of Laws had caused quite a bit of grief to Ser Otto's plans. The sight of the vein throbbing on his forehead whenever you managed to persuade the King to agree with you was a beautiful one, and it took everything you had not to smirk or snigger like a child or Daemon.

The thought of your goodbrother reminded you of his and Laena's recent return from Pentos. If anyone knew of a way to remove the Hand, it would be them.

"He will die," you whispered. "I'll make certain of it. Laena will know of something that may help."

"Not Daemon?" Rhaenyra tilted her head to face yours.

You snorted. "Daemon's solution would probably involve a dagger and a catspaw. We need to be subtle and leave nothing for the Queen to accuse us of murder. Laena will know; she was always interested in plants."

"If she finds a way, who will replace Otto? Your mother? Daemon? Tyland Lannister?"

"Actually," you began. "I thought it could be you." She lifted her head and looked at you with shock. "Let me finish," you continued. "You became cupbearer at eight, you've had a seat on the Small Council for almost ten years. You've seen how it works, you know about the issues the other Masters face. When Lord Lyonel was Hand, you regularly met with him to discuss solutions."

Your voice had risen as you'd argued your point, but your hands remained gentle as they cupped her face.

"Think of it as extra training for when you become Queen," you said.

Rhaenyra's face was uncertain. "You are so sure of yourself. How do you know it will happen?"

"I'll make it happen, my love," you promised before reaching up to kiss her.

"I do not feel ready, YNN," she confessed. "Every time I sit at that table, I feel like a pretender, like a girl again."

"Rhae," her name rolled on your tongue. "I don't think anyone is ever really ready to wear the crown. But there have been good kings, bad kings and kings that were middling. There have also been excellent and terrible Hands. You becoming Hand will not cause the Seven Kingdoms to collapse. I would always be happy to advise you if you wished, but you're more knowledgeable than you think you are. If you can't believe in yourself, believe in me and the fact that I trust in you."

The kiss she gave you was hungry, full of teeth and passion. You pulled her up so that she lay on top of you. Her hands made their way to your hair, while yours slowly crept down her back.

When she finally pulled away, her lips were red and bruised. Her cheeks were flushed while her white hair fell loosely around you both, creating a veil that hid you both from the outside world.

"When my wife makes a request, what loyal husband wouldn't strive to see it done?" your lips brushed against hers. "I'll fly to Driftmark tomorrow to ask Laena."

"I want Otto Hightower dead," she ordered.

Like a Queen.

Your wife's reply was not in words.

[gabessquishytum]

Dream and Hob play the characters of the new popular ship on the super popular sexy historical fiction TV show (Sand-ridgerton 😝😶).

This season they are finally the focus couple, and with the TV sexy times and falling in (tv) love & marriage, the spotlight is bright on them during the press run up to the new season.

Dream and Hob have been friends forever, both in the business, doing different jobs - tv shows and movies, never working together, but always cheerleading for the other. Both of them are amused by all the attention (and the "hot-ification" of the press tour glam squad; although if you ask Dream, Hob has always been hot!).

Initially, the marketing people wanted Hob and Dream to play up the romance angle - have fun and maybe touch each other more/cuddle up - create a little buzz, but don't be inauthentic.

Neither Dream or Hob expected to catch real feelings, they had been friends forever, why would this be the catalyst for changing their relationship to lovers?!? But as the press tour went on.....their hands lingered on each other with intent; quiet corner conversations became hidden kiss and clothes crumpling necking.

Really what they worried about most, at this point, wasn't fan theories that they were together in "real life," but that they, themselves, got so caught up in acting out romance and love for the audience, that what they're feeling is actually real.

It's totally real!

Sand-ridgerton! I love it!

I have this wonderful image of Hob getting a makeover before the press tour because the producers REALLY want to market him as a leading man. He's always had kind of goofy roles before, and the people in charge really want to cement the fact that Hob Gadling Is Sexy Now, so they get him dressed up, give him an incredibly expensive haircut, and generally primp and plume him into a perfect specimen of manly hunkiness.

Well. Dream has always been of the opinion that Hob Gadling Is Sexy, actually. He thought so even when Hob did that zombie comedy and spent the whole time covered in weird prosthetics and makeup. But even Dream is not immune to yassified Hob in his three piece suit and his beard oil. Especially when they're always together, being interviewed, doing photo shoots, or just hanging out before the next event. Dream is totally captivated by how gorgeous Hob is, and he's EXTREMELY jealous that the rest of the world finally seems to have caught on to the fact. Dream glares when the interviewers flirt with Hob. He even acts cold with the fans who giggle and swoon over Hob in public places (nobody notices, however, because Dream is always cold... to anyone who isn't Hob).

Hob honestly doesn't much like the fancy clothes and the new diet and the fact that someone is always taking his picture. He preferred being inconspicuous in his khakis and fun shirts. One night he gets pretty emotional about it, and to cheer him up, Dream confesses that he thought Hob was cute and sexy before all this recent nonsense. Hob finally brightens up... and thats when they have their first off-screen kiss.

But however much they'd both prefer to keep their blossoming relationship private, of course they don't have a choice. Soon enough they're being hounded by paparazzi, neither of them can post on social media without starting a riot, and the only thing that makes life living is the fucking incredible sex they're having at every opportunity. Hob ruins his fancy suits by pulling Dream into his lap in the car on the way to events, and Dream can never find the willpower to say no. It is intoxicating, even if it is a kind of hell.

Ironically its the show itself that saves them. Once the episodes start airing, focus shifts from real life to fiction. The fans are more interested in the characters on screen (Mr Kingsley and Mr Sturridge, eligble bachelors in the Sand-ridgerton show, are fan favourite characters and have a wonderful steamy queer romance storyline!) than the real life Hob and Dream. Slowly, slowly, the attention begins to die down. They feel like they can breathe again. Dream privately thanks god for the stupid TV show, which has turned his life upside down at least twice now. Now, Hob is really and truly finally his. The fans can have the character, but Dream gets Hob...

...and maybe those fancy outfits can stay in the wardrobe. Just for Dream to enjoy, in private.

[saurongorthaur9]

The fact that there might be a chance, even a slim chance, of there being a Sauron/Galadriel kiss in ROP S2 has woken something up inside of me that doesn't want to go to sleep.

I keep telling myself that there's no way they would go that far, do something that shocking and drastic, that there's no way the teased "surprise kiss" is going to be them.

But to be fair, if you'd told me in summer of 2022 that the upcoming season was going to heavily feature Galadriel and Sauron in a relationship that could be read as partially romantic without a ton of imagination and would culminate with Sauron literally proposing to her (even if it is entirely politically motivated), I would have said there was absolutely no way. So I hesitate to say they wouldn't go a step further than they've already gone.

I also feel torn about whether I want there to be a kiss. On the one hand, I think it makes their bond more narratively strong and more Tolkienian to keep it at the cosmic connection level, with anything romantic that could be read into it kept at a subtext. I'm afraid a kiss could diminish the epic, cosmic struggle of two immense, powerful beings by bringing it down to something more tangible and carnal.

On the other hand, I've found myself caught in a craving for a Sauron/Galadriel kiss that I just can't shake.

Sauron was my romantic and sexual awakening as a kid who had just read The Silmarillion for the first time, over twenty years ago. He was the very first person I ever had a crush on, the first person who I ever fantasized about kissing. To this day, he's the only person I've ever had a steamy dream about.

I vividly remember reading my first Sauron romance fanfic (the gorgeous Heart's Blood by ChristineX, if anyone's interested), back when it was fairly difficult to find Sauron-centric stories or Sauron-as-a-protagonist fics. I remember how vindicated I felt that I wasn't alone in finding Sauron sexy and liking the idea of Sauron getting some kisses.

But never in my wildest dreams or thoughts did I ever ever ever think that one day I might possibly get an on-screen Sauron kiss in a major, professional live action production. I can't even fully articulate what that would mean to me. It's less about shipping and mostly about the intense level of vindication that I'm not crazy for having swooned and fantasized over Sauron for two thirds of my life. Seeing Sauron get a live action on-screen kiss would do things to me that I can't even articulate. Even thinking about it is doing things to me that I can't even articulate.

I'm trying really really hard not to get my hopes up, but I can't stop thinking WHAT IF.

[captastra]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Warhammer 40.000: Rogue Trader (Video Game) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Heinrix van Calox/Female Rogue Trader | Lord Captain (Rogue Trader Video Game), Heinrix van Calox/The Rogue Trader | Lord Captain (Rogue Trader Video Game) Characters: Heinrix van Calox, Female Rogue Trader | Lord Captain (Warhammer 40.000: Rogue Trader Video Game) Additional Tags: Drama & Romance, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Angst, Injury, Mutual Pining Summary:

Heinrix struggles to define his relationship with Lethyan von Valancius, but he can't deny feelings are there. While healing an injury, Lethyan makes him give a pledge he is unsure he'll be able to keep.

To live for himself, and to live for her? A truly demanding request.

~

So excited to share my first fic of 2024 featuring my new oc, Lethyan!! I used w prompts (prompt 1, prompt 2) by @creativepromptsforwriting and tagging to reblog @creativepromptfills! Thank you as always @kourumi for reading it over <3

Taglist (opt in/out here!): @olliesaurus-rex @kyber-infinitygems @poetikat @confidentandgood @carlosoliveiraa @spaceratprodigy @darkfire1177 @theelderhazelnut @shegetsburned @awhellstothejoe @oh-nostalgiaa @seliviawanders @thisisrigged4 @onehornedbeast @bitchesofostwick @orionlancasterr @incognito-insomniac @amadeus-lmao @finding-comfort-in-rain @gayafsatan @euryalex @mxanigel @cassieuncaged @arendaes @adelaidedrubman @marivenah @aceghosts @iobsessoverfictionalmen @cloudofbutterflies92 @nightbloodbix @nowandthane

[whensilencespeaks]

Hello Everyone! My name is Elizabeth, or just Liz for short.

In When Silence Speaks, you'll be taking on the role of an MC that isn't part of the human world but wishes to explore it. Sound familiar? This IF is a mixture of themes from The Little Mermaid with the twist of having the classic soulmate trope etched within-- the first words your soulmate says to you is tattooed onto your body.

The only catch? You've traded in your voice to be able to walk on land, but four distinct individuals have their greetings tattooed onto your skin... Will you have theirs?

🔱 Features 🔱

You can play as a mermaid, merman, or merperson. Choose your sexuality, appearance, facets of your personality, an oceanic friend, and your own special reason for wishing to go to the surface world. This story will be filled with a mixture of sweet moments, angsty dramatic ones, potentially steamy ones, as well as many more! Spend time with your potential soulmate while discovering that your deal wasn't as you once believed it to be.

The game, as one may expect, is heavily focused on relationships and romance. However, you'll be able to decide if your soulmate is a romantic one or more of a platonic one-- of course, you'll also be able to befriend anyone else you choose to! All four of the ROs are gender-selectable (male or female)!

🔱 The Romantic Options 🔱

Miran/Mira -- "The Heir"

The heir to the seaside nation of Semprya. An individual with a gentle smile and compassionate nature, with a deep fascination and love for the sea-- respecting it as it should be respected. They're slightly feared within the Court, despite their overall soft-spoken demeanor, because of the sharpness of their tongue and the keen nature behind their gaze.

With fair skin, despite the overall sunny climate of Semprya, and ice blue eyes, reminiscent of the frozen oceans of the North, they command respect with their presence alone. They stand at 6'2" with an athletic physique due to their combat training, but they still maintain an air of slender elegance as well.

Hair as golden as the sun's warm rays bring their look together, being softly curly. Miran keeps his hair semi-short, brushing his ears, and Mira keeps hers to the small of her back.

Caspian/Cassia -- "The Captain"

The infamous Captain of the dreaded ship The Leviathan is known across the seven seas. Stories follow in their wake, a living legend to all, and many believe they search the seas to find the soulmate that always seems just out of their grasp. Of course, others think they just enjoy the bloodshed that always seems to follow in their wake.

Years of life on the open ocean have given them a golden-tan complexion, that offsets the piercing green of their eyes. They stand at 5'11" with a muscular physique that still retains a sense of agility-- always being able to move from one place to the other with the greatest of ease.

Their hair is a rich golden brown that's as wavy as the place they call their home. Caspian keeps his hair to his shoulders, while Cassia keeps hers to just beneath her shoulder blades. The only thing keeping the locks in place is the classic hat denoting their position on their ship.

Evan/Eva -- "The Scholar"

The most trusted advisor, despite their young age, to the Crown Heir of the seaside country of Semprya. With a thirst for knowledge, that has pushed all thoughts of soulmates from their head, they see you as another puzzle in a world of infinite ones-- wanting nothing more than to figure you out.

They have a rich dark-skinned complexion, with a warm undertone, that brings out the brilliance of their light hazel eyes-- that look almost gold. Standing at around 5'4", what they lack in height they make up for in presence alone. With a lean body, from years of lugging around heavy tombs and scripture, they can be quite formidable when out of their usual robes.

Their hair is a rich ebony black that falls in gorgeous ringlets. Evan has his to his jawline and Eva's just barely brushes the top of her shoulders.

Alexius/Alessia -- "The Guard"

With a surly attitude, that only softens for specific people, they don't make it a secret that they don't believe in soulmates, that they don't wish to find their own-- not after what they've seen. A deeply protective nature is paramount to who they are, who they have always been, and it's only grown while in their service to the royal family.

Tanned skin brings out the silver quality of their hardened gray gaze. Standing at around 6'7", they're quite the imposing figure and don't try to be anything else. With a muscular physique, that's built for strength, they're normally seen within their armor-- you never know what could be coming after all.

Auburn hair brings out the cool undertone of their skin. Alexius keeps his hair short and Alessia keeps her to just past her shoulders, but she always has it in either a simple plait or a low ponytail.

🔱 Links 🔱

DEMO (TBA)

[marimbles]

Commissions open!

Tier 1: simple sketches—$15 base

Black and white or partial/low-opacity color

two characters: +$10

Tier 2: colored sketches—$25 base

full color with simple shading

two characters:+$15

Tier 3: full-render sketches—$35 base

full color, shading, environmental lighting, etc.

two characters: +$20

If interested, please DM me or email me at heymarimbles@gmail.com!

Reblogs appreciated💜 thank you!!

More details under the cut:

Will do:

fanart (miraculous ladybug, the owl house, and the legend of Zelda are my main fandoms, so those are the characters I’m most familiar with drawing, but other fandoms are also welcome!)

OCs/sonas (MUST provide references and detailed description)

real people (in my style)

ship art/light romance

Won’t do:

NSFW (or anything that feels too steamy to me djdjkd)

furry

mecha

gore

Other guidelines:

Prices are USD

Payment through PayPal or ko-fi

No price distinction between bust, half-body, and full-body

If you want more than two characters, we can talk about it!

Very simple background included in base price (like a solid color or gradient, a circle or square behind the character, etc). Anything else is negotiable depending on complexity.

Props and small companions (like kwami, palisman, pet, etc.) are negotiable depending on complexity.

These are sketches, so the lines will be somewhat rough and you may see structure lines underneath. If you are not satisfied with the level of cleanliness, I can clean it up a bit, but these tiers don’t include clean lineart. (If you do want clean lineart, though, we can talk about it!)

I tend to experiment a bit with my rendering tools/style, so if there’s a particular piece of mine you like and you want me to try to recreate that style, lmk!

References photos are super helpful! (And for OCs, they’re essential.)

If you’re interested in something that doesn’t fall under one of these tiers (like a comic, doodle dump, etc.), just talk to me and we might be able to figure something out :)

[somedaylazysomeday]

Hunted - Part Three

You take advantage of a lazy day to get some reading done. Hunter finds himself fascinated.

Hunter x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 3,700

Warnings: Romance novels, heightened senses, references to arousal, oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

Previous | Masterlist

---

Empty cockpit? Check. 

Datapad? Check. 

Full canteen and fuzzy blanket? Check and check.

You stuck your head out through the doorway, peeking down the main hall of the ship. From that vantage point, you could see everything from the bunks to the gun turret and there was no one in sight. 

The rest of the Bad Batch were outside of the ship, enjoying the warm day on whatever Outer Rim planet you were on. You weren’t sure what it was called - actually, you weren’t sure if it had a name at all. The GAR had ordered you to stay there in case a campaign on a nearby planet needed assistance, but all reports indicated that things were going well with the assault. 

Tech had suggested that everyone work on repairs that the Marauder needed, but he had pointedly dismissed you as the repairs required lifting heavy panels and parts. You had opted to go bathe in a nearby stream. The water had tested as being safe for use, and there was no need to waste the water on the Marauder if you didn’t have to. Hunter had pointed out that everyone could stand to do the same, but they had waited until you came back. The Batch had left for the stream as you came back to the ship.  

That worked out perfectly for you. There was something you wanted to do on the ship, and being there alone made sure you could get it done. 

After you had verified that you were alone, you ducked back into the cockpit, wrapped yourself in the blanket, took a sip of your water, and pulled up the spicy holonovel you had been eyeing for weeks. 

You had downloaded it onto your datapad before you had left Coruscant, but there was a problem: Hunter had banned you from reading anything smutty when you were onboard the Marauder. He had claimed that the smell of your arousal was strong, and he had enough trouble controlling himself as it was since you shared such a confined space. 

Your personal theory was that Hunter preferred it when you couldn’t read about anyone other than him. He wasn’t an overly jealous person, but you didn’t believe his claim about your scent. His senses were enhanced, but they couldn’t be that enhanced. 

Just in case he was telling the truth, you decided that you wouldn’t let yourself get that invested. It was a novel. You could handle reading a bunch of words without having a physical reaction to them. It wasn’t difficult. Plus, most spicy novels didn’t get to anything explicit until later on. You would have time to read the beginning, learn about the characters, and think about the plot until you got back to Coruscant and could read whatever you wanted. 

And yet… 

The holonovel was immediately engrossing, and the paragraphs flew past. You knew why it had been so popular: the characters were likable, the plot was well-executed, and the sex scenes were filthy. 

You were utterly lost in the underwater kingdom of Vreavomor, following princess Moshnul of the Ortas line as she longed for a partner who could serve as a reliable and level-headed consort… while providing some much-needed stress relief. Of course, those plans provided an opening for Krixos, a Clawdite assassin sent to disrupt the kingdom's government from the inside. But when Krixos found herself entranced by Moshnul, the job quickly became less important than staying close to the beautiful target. 

Though you were enthralled by the plot of the story, you couldn’t deny that the steamy scenes kept you reading further and further into the holonovel. Clawdite biology was similar enough to humans that nothing came as a shock there, but the descriptions of Moshnul… Well, you hadn’t known that Nautolan head tentacles could be so prehensile. 

You came to the end of yet another chapter, guiltily glancing over your shoulder as you started on the next. No one had come back to the ship yet, so there really was no harm in continuing to read your novel. 

“What-” 

The voice next to your ear made you shriek, and you didn’t stop when you turned to find Hunter standing directly beside you. He flinched back at the sound of your scream, but stayed close enough that you caught his flaring nostrils and the heated look in his eyes. He kept talking as you recovered from your shock.

“What are you doing in here?” he demanded. “I could smell you half a klick away.” 

“What are you doing in here?” you countered. “You scared the hell out of me!” 

“Are you reading one of those novels again?” 

“...No...” You tried to subtly drop the datapad screen-down in your lap, but Hunter caught it before you could. 

He glanced at the screen, eyes scanning over the first few lines. Fortunately, since you had just started a new chapter, what he read was fairly tame. However, Hunter seemed unconvinced. “Your scent is everywhere.” 

“You realize how that could be offensive, right?” 

Hunter was immediately standing in front of the chair where you were curled. He braced his hands on the armrests on either side of you, leaning in. He didn’t touch you, but he was incredibly close as he took a breath through his nose. “Never. Not when you smell so incredible.”

“I just bathed,” you said slowly, trying to think of something - anything - to disguise how flustered this made you. Flustered and unbelievably turned on. 

“Yeah, and then you came back here and got all worked up.” Hunter’s dark eyes traced over your face before traveling lower. He took hold of the blanket, and you let him drag it slowly down your body until you were exposed to him. 

There was nothing to see, really. When you got back to the Havoc Marauder, you had dressed for comfort. You were wearing the same outfit you normally wore to bed - loose shorts and a tank top. Hunter reacted like you were wearing the most daring lingerie, biting back a groan as he studied your body. 

You abruptly realized why when his hand made contact with the hardened nub of your nipple. It was a little chilly on the ship, but you both knew that your response stemmed from other things - especially when your back arched just enough to press your chest into Hunter’s hand. 

“That’s what I thought,” he muttered with a smirk.

“Hunter,” you complained. “Don’t tease.”

“Mesh’la, teasing is the last thing I want to do.” Hunter grabbed your hand, bringing it to cradle the bulge at the front of his body glove. He stifled a curse, hips juddering into your hand. “Being on this ship right now… It’s like I’m drowning in you. Need you.”

“Then why are you taking so long?” you asked. Hunter watched as you wrapped hands between his ribcage and his extended arms, pulling him down on top of you with a squeeze. He was strong enough to fight your grip - you both knew that - but he obligingly collapsed on top of you, laughing when you gave a dramatic groan. 

“Heavy,” you wheezed. 

“Not very nice,” he chided. “You’ll give me a complex.” 

Despite that claim, Hunter looked wholly unbothered until you gave a piteous huff. “Can’t breathe.” 

“And you tell me I’m dramatic.” Hunter shook his head, easing back off of you. Rather than stand, however, he lowered himself to kneel in front of you. You watched him, but his eyes were fixed steadily between your legs. 

You had parted your thighs to accommodate him when he had landed on top of you and hadn’t bothered to close them. It was only then that you realized that the loose gape of the shorts’ legs left your clothed mound exposed to the air. 

Hunter’s fingers crept forward, easing toward you until they brushed against the fabric of your underwear. The electricity of it sparked across your most sensitive place, and you realized just how keyed-up you had gotten from reading your novel. So much for not being impacted by words on a screen. 

One strong finger slipped beneath the side of your underwear, easing between your skin and the elastic band. It dipped between your folds to play all-too briefly with your clit, then moved out the other side. The moment you saw his finger hooked around the gusset of your panties, you made a sharp sound of warning. 

Hunter paused, giving you a moment to gather your ability to use words. “Don’t you dare, Hunter. I like these underwear.” 

“I’ll buy you more,” he wheedled, confirming your suspicion that he had been getting ready to tear them from you. 

“Where?” you asked, rhetorically. “We’ve gone through more than a few pairs since we left Coruscant. If you tear these, I’m going to run out before we get back.” 

“There are worse things.” Judging from his pout, Hunter was referring to the idea of being kept away from you for as long as it would take to strip off a pair of underwear. 

You shook your head. “Hunter, you can’t stand it when I’m horny around you when I am wearing underwear. Imagine how bad that would be if I wasn’t wearing anything at all.” 

“I can smell you anyway,” he countered. “One layer doesn’t do much good.” 

“What…” You had to laugh at his determination. “Just let me take these off, okay? I promise, it won’t take more than a few seconds.” 

“Fine,” he agreed, inching back from you. “But you have to do something for me.” 

“Yeah?” you asked, lifting your hips for him. Apparently, letting you stand up to pull down your shorts and underwear was too much to ask, and Hunter was already stripping the articles from you as you stayed in your seat. 

Hunter settled back between your thighs, taking a deep breath as he did. When he glanced up at you, his pupils were blown wide with anticipation. “Read to me.” 

You didn’t answer and Hunter gestured to the datapad you had left discarded beside your chair. “Whatever it was that had you so excited before I got here. Read it for me.” 

“I-” you started, then had to pause and swallow. Your mouth had gone dry. “I thought you didn’t like my novels.” 

“I never said that.” You merely raised your eyebrows at him and Hunter chuckled. “Fine. Then I’m giving you a chance to change my mind.” 

You never were one to pass up a good challenge. With a few taps, you pulled up your holonovel once more, then navigated back to the first scene that had left you biting your lip. “Ready?” 

“I’m only waiting for you,” Hunter told you, fingers tracing patterns over your thighs. 

“Moshnul reclined back on the sleeping platform, a coy smile on her lips. Krixos felt her heart-” 

A sharp inhale cut you off mid-sentence. Hunter had licked you from the bottom of your entrance to the top of your slit, covering a wide swath of you with his flattened tongue. He lifted one dark brow at you when you stopped. “That wasn’t all, was it?” 

You bit back a sarcastic comment, unwilling to let him win. Instead, you lifted the datapad and started where you had left off. “Krixos felt her heart pound at the sight of Moshnul’s bare body. The princess was all soft purple skin and curves, her head tendrils sweeping gently around her shoulders. They didn’t hide her, but there was something about the way Krixos was left to catch glimpses of Moshnul through the long tentacles… It was enticing.” 

Hunter listened to your reading, politely letting you get to the end of the paragraph before he traced the tip of his tongue over your folds. He was gilding you with the heat of his mouth, and the next paragraph was much more difficult to get through. 

“To Krixos’s shock, Moshnul eagerly pulled her closer, straddling her in a moment. Those tendrils fell around them both, curtaining them away until they seemed to be the only two people in the galaxy. Moshnul leaned in for a kiss.” 

“Not as explicit as I expected,” Hunter remarked. You would have warned him how much there was to come, but he had used his thumbs to part you, holding you open for him. The anticipation was killing you, as was the cool temperature aboard the Marauder. 

“The princess kissed like she ate, Krixos thought, quick and messy and joyful. Tendrils stroked Krixos’s face as their tongues danced. It took a moment to realize that Moshnul was grinding against her thigh.”

Hunter’s tongue teased at your clit, swirling over it like he was enjoying a candy. He applied gentle pressure until you bucked into his mouth, then moved his attention further down. Fortunately, he found a compromise: when he buried his tongue in your cunt, his nose pressed firmly against your clit. You keened for him.

“Krixos lif- lifted her knee, giving Moshnul a b- better angle,” you stammered, trying not to be distracted by the way Hunter’s tongue was pressing gently in and out of you. “Moshnul took full ad- ah! Advantage! Riding it slowly, slit sliding against the pressure. Krixos only wished  to feel the princess’s soft heat against her… mmfff! leg.” 

Hunter hummed, and the vibrations shot through your core. Your thighs tightened, and the only thing that kept them from clamping around Hunter’s head was the splay of his elbows. They held your knees apart, leaving you spread open for his continued torment. 

He patted your inner thigh twice, expectantly, and you understood the message. 

“Moshnul’s new position took her further down Krixos’s body, and she nuzzled against one of Krixos’s breasts.” 

“Little clunky,” Hunter muttered, removing his tongue from your core. 

“Don’t stop!” you admonished, lifting your hips helplessly. Hunter chuckled, lowering his mouth back to you as a finger pressed inexorably into your heat. After a few thrusts, he added a second.

“Krixos wished for nothing m- more than to be rid of her clothes. Moshnul seemed to agree, and they fumbled together at the fastenings of Krixos’s shirt. The instant it was stripped away, Moshnul’s mouth closed around the achingly sensitive peak of Krixos’s- Fuck!”

Hunter chortled into your folds. He had managed to take advantage of your distraction, lining himself up for the perfect moment. As your lips were forming the word ‘nipple’, he pinched yours hard. At the same moment, he drove his fingers into you, hooking them directly into your g-spot. And, of course, he sucked firmly on your clit. 

Your body tautened like a bowstring, fighting against Hunter’s weight to arch up off the seat as you let out a wail. Hunter didn’t move in the slightest. 

It wasn’t quite enough to drive you to orgasm, but it was close. Close enough, in fact, that you pushed Hunter away from your core and tossed the datapad onto the ship’s control panel. Hunter looked up at you, surprised, and you could feel the wildness in your eyes as you stared back. 

“Fuck me, Hunter. Now.” 

You didn’t have to tell him twice. In the span of a moment, Hunter had scrambled up from the floor and stripped off the lower half of his body glove. He was poised over you before you could blink, the head of him pressed to your dripping entrance. 

“You want this, mesh’la?”

He wasn’t teasing you - you could see that much on his face. Still, a primal part of you was screaming that he was withholding himself from you, that you had to take care of things yourself. You braced a foot against the seat of your chair, half-lifting your body so you could impale yourself on him. 

Hunter’s eyes widened with the shock of your actions, but he didn’t fight you on it. In fact, he seemed to be relieved, his hips following yours as they lowered back down to the seat. He sank the rest of the way into you and you both groaned at the perfect slide of him in your heat. 

Your foreheads pressed together as Hunter took a ragged breath. “You ready for me, mesh’la? Not sure I’ll be able to hold back.” 

“What part of this makes you think I’d want you to hold back?” you asked. “Hunter, I’m ready. You’ve gotten me ready. Please…” 

He reached between you - bypassing everything throbbing for him - and grabbed your ankle. He lifted your leg gently, fishing it out from where it had gotten captured between you. He hooked it and your other leg over the armrests of the chair you were sitting in, giving you a stern look. “Keep these out of the way for me, sweetheart.”

You nodded shakily. With your legs out of the way, Hunter had sunk a little deeper into you, and you got a sudden idea of how this was going to feel. Your toes were already curling and you wriggled impatiently against him. 

Hunter grabbed your ass, his fingers sinking into the plush flesh as he half-lifted you from the chair. He withdrew from you at the same time and you had time to take a single breath. Without him, you felt disturbingly empty… and then he was shoving himself back inside of you. 

The fullness of him stretching you was intense, all-encompassing. Your mouth dropped open around a noise of surprise, but you didn’t have time for a lengthy reaction. The moment he had pushed home inside of you, Hunter was withdrawing, then surging forward once more. 

You had been close to orgasm with the pleasure of his mouth on you, but you hadn’t realized just how much everything had impacted Hunter. He was achingly hard inside of you, pressing as deep as he possibly could at the height of each stroke. He was fucking into you at full speed, as desperate as if it had been years since the two of you had been together. 

Hunter’s hands partially supporting you was the only thing that kept you from being bruised against the slightly-padded pilot’s seat, but they also allowed him to take more complete control of the angles. He held you carefully, adjusting the angle of your hips to match what pulled the loudest sounds from you. 

The stimulation was intense, especially considering he’d been tormenting you such a short time before. You abandoned the armrests as a good perch for your legs, opting to wrap them around Hunter’s strong waist instead. That, at least, gave you a little more control. 

From that point on, it became a joint effort from the two of you - nothing so elegant as a dance, but you were both actively participating. You used the clutch of your legs around Hunter to meet every stroke and counterthrust where you could, driving him further into you as your body constricted around him.

Hunter changed the angle of his hips and yours at the same time, drilling the head of his cock directly against your g-spot. It was a sudden movement, done all at once so that you didn’t immediately recognize what had changed. All you knew was that the press of him inside of you went from amazing to blinding, the pleasure so intense that it was only just on the right side of painful. 

Your inner muscles started to spasm almost immediately. Your body had apparently chosen to take the intensity of the position and channel it toward an immediate orgasm. You clutched at Hunter’s shoulders. “Hunter, I can’t-” 

He frowned, hips instantly slowing. You nearly sobbed. “Do you need me to stop?” 

“No, I’m close!” you urged. “I’m going to-” 

Hunter’s expression relaxed, shifting from concern to anticipation. “Do it, mesh’la. I won’t be far behind.” 

Before you could respond verbally, Hunter gripped you tighter and picked up where he had left off. The frantic pace of his hips picked you up and dumped you unceremoniously over the edge of the cliff, leaving you free-falling into your orgasm. 

You clung desperately to Hunter as your channel spasmed and flexed. You did your best to lock your pelvis flush against Hunter’s, to keep him as far inside you as possible, but he managed to free himself from the clasp of your core muscles. Driving back into you was noticeably harder than it had been before you clamped down, but he was motivated. 

Once he was inside you again, Hunter’s face tightened. You watched it even through the haze of your peaking orgasm, and recognized it easily. He was close. 

Under the shaking muscles of your calves and thighs, you could feel Hunter begin to withdraw from you. You tightened your legs, holding him in place. 

“Stay,” you managed, though your voice tried to turn it into a moan. “Hunter…” 

He choked, hips thrusting once - twice into you before you felt the hot spill of him deep in your core. He continued to rut against you as his pleasure peaked and began to fade slowly. Hunter’s lips brushed over the side of your throat and jaw as he slowly lowered you to sit back on the seat. 

You smoothed your hand over his hair. He found it soothing even outside of the bedroom, and the slow and steady motion helped you pull yourself together.

Finally, Hunter murmured something against the skin just under your ear. 

“What?” 

“I asked how the rest of your novel is,” Hunter repeated. 

“Oh.” You had forgotten about the holonovel entirely with everything else that had happened. “I’m not sure. I haven’t finished it yet. Krixos has to tell Moshnul who she really is without destroying everything. It’s probably going to be super dramatic.” 

“Probably,” Hunter agreed. “But maybe you can read it on the way back to Coruscant and tell me all about it there.” 

“You’re already looking for a repeat performance?” you teased. 

Hunter pulled back just far enough to see you. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“No… but you can’t ever complain about my holonovels again.” You grinned as Hunter huffed a sigh. 

“Deal.”

---

Author's Note - I really like how this one turned out, but I have to laugh at how much less intense this is than the previous two chapters. Hopefully you enjoyed it anyway!

Thanks for reading!

[acesdiary]

”Cliche”

———————————————

notes: NO PROBS POOKIE! thanks for making a request @xxchaosjojoxx I’ll try and follow your request as much as possible :3 (regarding the word ‘her’ I’m guessing this is a female reader - correct me if I’m wrong 😔🤞)

warnings: a bit suggestive, use of the word ‘porn’

paring: Penguin x fem!reader

wc: 565

————————————————

You hate to say it, but you loved romance novels

Or.. you consider that you don’t love it.. rather ‘invested’ in it

But you knew that you were lying to yourself, so as the whole crew. Whenever you got the chance you would just read along the pages on end - unless you had something else to do. Well, you read it during cleaning duty which isn’t exactly the best plan, considering you could get caught reading this, or even get in trouble with Law.

But you didn’t care, it’s just fiction..

Right..?

That’s what you would tell yourself, anytime you flipped to that one.. spicy, or steamy page that would make your face have a red hue, as if you’re head was on fire, trying to keep your act together.

And you ended up getting that page once again today,

You sat on a barrel near the top of the submarine reading that page while trying to keep a nonchalant look on your face, it was obvious you were reading something sexual, Penguin could tell by the look on your face, even the title gave it off, ‘Her pleasure - volume 5’ so, a curious Penguin walked up to you and grabbed the book out of your hands, flipping through a few pages.

Your heart stopped, your hands stuck in place, as if you were still holding the book in your hands but there was nothing there, eyes slightly widened and frozen in place.

You weren’t the only one who went pale, Penguin’s jaw was dropped to the wooden floor of the ship,

“HAH-?! Y-“ He blurted out before shouting out, “YOU’VE BEEN READING PORN IN PUBLIC THIS WHOLE TIME?!”

You stayed silent before letting out a quiet response, “Well.. yes?” It was silence between the two of you, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Before Penguin let out a hearty laugh, before finishing he wiped a tear from his eye,

“Look Y/n, whatever you read, we can do it together,”

There was no logical answer other then to take the book an skedaddle out of there, your face was on fire, about to melt off, you leaned against the wall near one of the cabins, trying to catch your breath, but the air just felt hot.

This is just the beginning.

———————————————

Please don’t repost this on any other platform without asking for permission on either dms or my discord!

reblogs would be appreciated!

m.list

[ivryne]

. . . ⌗ the aftermath ! 🔬

genshin smau | scaramouche x fem!reader

THIS SMAU IS DISCONTINUED!! BUT THE REWRITE IS OUT IN MY MAIN MASTERLIST!!!!

synopsis — the aftermath ! After a drunken night that resulted in some late night endeavors, you woke up in an unfamiliar environment. Looking around you in search for any familiarity, you spot a familiar tuff of violet hair beside you, hidden beneath the heavy duvet. Realization blew you over as you finally connected the scattered dots. Did you really just sleep with Scaramouche, your no.1 nemesis and rival? Well I guess all we can do is wish you luck to deal with the aftermath.

pairings. scaramouche (kunikuzushi) x fem!reader

genre. romance, crack, slice of life, rivals to lovers, modern au, college/uni setting, age 20-21

warnings. misunderstandings, slow burn, mommy issues, fluff, 16+ nothing too steamy. timestamps don’t matter just ignore them

status. [ 22 / 12 / 22 ] — disc (ONGOING REWRITE)

NOTE. hellooo! I’ve seen genshin smaus all over tumblr and I’ve always wanted to make one and I finally got the plot todayyy aghhh. Ty for those of u who hav clicked this!! Hope you enjoy <33

(🍬) means there r gonna be written parts ^^

NOW PLAYING . . .

starring . . . mentally un(st)able | need help asap

AND ACTION !

act one — too late to back out

episode 01 : wat did u ruin again lol

episode 02: stupid girl

episode 03: why is this kinda hot??

episode 04: i’ll bring the snacks (🍬)

episode 05: brainstorm or braindead (🍬)

episode 06: kinda ship it ngl (🍬)

episode 07: meant to be ig

episode 08: t-truce

bonus episode: hu tao’s dilemma

act two — never settle for less

episode 09: you’re staring (🍬)

episode 010: boytoy

episode 011: the hot one?

episode xx : extra scaraname snippets

episode 012: oh how the turns have tabled (🍬)

episode 013: name’s adrien agreste era (🍬)

episode 014: a new face (🍬)

episode 015: it’s called overthinking

IMPORTANT NOTE !!

episode 016: one goal in mind

episode 017: what are u implying?

episode 018: ur not the one i like

episode 019: that was quite unlikely

episode 020: called it

episode 021: are you convincing us or urself?

episode 022: why r u like this

episode 023: i guess this is it

episode 024: i am living for this childe slander

episode 025: the things i’d do for u

act three — above average

episode … :

tba…

CUT ! show’s over 📽

NOTE. this smau is discontinued ! I will be posting a rewrite soon so stay tuned!

do not repost, share, or copy ! Reblogs and likes very much appreciated!! Ty for taking ur time to read this. I hope i rlly get through w this bc i’m so inconsistent hehe.

© 𝐬𝐡𝐫𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫.

[lyledebeast]

Sex and The Patriot Canon

For having inspired so many sexy fanfics, The Patriot is a deeply unsexy film in most respects. The only characters who canonically fuck are the parents of the children sacrificed to "the cause." Sex is extremely utilitarian in this film; any romance scene in which one of the participants sighs and says "very well" in a tone of abject resignation is going nowhere very steamy fast.

This has been an inspiration rather than an obstacle to the numerous fanfic writers for whom Colonel Tavington not fucking is unconscionable. But it's been interesting to see how often complaints about Tavington's characterization in fic comes from people who write or prefer to read stories where he has sex, often involving hard kinks, with women. I read these complaints and have to wonder, what character do they think he's out of? The film's Tavington does not so much as look at or speak to a single woman in the whole run time. The Patriot is an extremely male-centric story, but it is not set at sea. Tavington has access to women; he just doesn't appear to have any interest in them.

The only time we see him in the same frame as a woman is right after the militia blows up a ship a few yards away from Middleton Place, and both he and the women in front of him are preoccupied with that! In contrast, we do see both of Tavington's captains, Bordon and Wilkins, chatting with women at the same party and seeming to enjoy themselves. But, as we see in other scenes, Tavington is a bit awkward with even his male peers in celebratory settings. How is his conduct different with Patriot women?

It isn't. He addresses a crowd that includes women, but when Anne Howard shouts at him he does not even acknowledge her presence. The people he tortures for information are both men, at least one is a deserter from the militia. It would have been very easy to include a scene of Tavington sexually menacing a militiaman's wife--he and his men burn eight of their houses--but we don't see that. When Wilkins tells him Ben Martin would send his children to stay with his sister-in-law, Tavington has zero curiosity about this woman. Every time the opportunity for Tavington to interact with a Patriot woman presents itself, he interacts with a man or boy instead.

A fic in which Tavington has sex with a woman, brutally or otherwise, is already making a pretty significant departure from canon regardless of what else is going on. And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that! Most fic is canon-divergent in one way or another. If a fic is going to just regurgitate canon in different words, what is the point? But an interpretation of a character in fanfic doesn't become a standard for how authentic that character is in other fics just because it is popular. Maybe those who voice these complaints have something other than Tavington's sexuality in mind, like his voice or his personality: things that could remain canon-complaint even as he does any number of things he doesn't get to do in his far too brief screentime. But for someone who clearly enjoys one kind of canon-divergence to describe other divergences as "out of character" seems a little hypocritical, or at least lacking in self-awareness.