#suspenders optional but preferred

[melhekhelmurkun]

Can I PLEASE just be held gently and tenderly by a muscular person >:(

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Donkeys & Dragons

Gender Neutral Reader x Malleus Draconia Word Count: 3.0k

Summary: In which your friends are idiots who think gallivanting around a haunted castle surrounded by lava is a great idea. And then there's a dragon.

ie. Or, I watched Shrek this afternoon and could not stop thinking about the memes of the Prefect being Donkey and Malleus as the Dragon.

[PART 1] [PART 2] [PART 3] [PART 4] [EPILOGUE]

‘Treasure beyond your wildest dreams!’ Ace said.

‘Knowledge long since lost to time!’ Deuce corrected.

‘Yeah, okay, but what is it,’ you asked.

And neither of them had an answer.

Abandoned castles suspended over a sea of bubbling lava were not your preferred holiday destination. You’d told Ace this several times. You’d begged, pleaded, to please just be normal for once. But noooo. Both the snarky, ginger, bastard and the other half of his singular brain cell had apparently decided that suicide ala boiling rocks sounded like a perfectly lovely plan for your Saturday evening.

“I’m just saying,” you huffed as the rope bridge swung worryingly beneath your feet, “taverns are a thing. Faires. Market runs. Casual side quests that won’t wind up with us being flambeed alive.”

“But there’s treasure!” Ace complained, the muddled light off the lava below illuminating his pout in a way that made it look especially punchable. “I heard there’s this really awesome magical sword! Or maybe it was a shield or something—”

“Or something,” you grit out. “What if it’s a book, huh? You can’t even read.”

“We can try!” Deuce returned, a spark of that familiar determination zipping through his blue eyes.

“Or we can sell it,” Ace said, which was certainly the more likely option of the two.

One of the rickety, wooden, slats cracked beneath the low heel of your boot and tumbled down into the lava below. Maybe it hit the gurgling pool of death with a hiss, or a whump, or some other cool sound. But all you could hear was the ringing in your ears.

“Oh my god. I’m going to die.”

“I mean, maybe,” Ace shrugged. “But at least you’ll have a cool new sword propped up at your grave or something.”

You managed to make it all the way to the other side of the horrible death bridge without plummeting to your doom. Except now you were standing at the foot an equally horrifying castle. It was massive—grand on a scale that seemed entirely impossible for something constructed in the heart of a volcano. Its dozens of ebony spires clawed at the sky. The walls crawled with grey ivy and thickets of thorns so dense that you couldn’t see even the barest hint of brick beneath. It looked evil in the way that cursed tombs felt evil—eternal, and still, and oppressive. Like a creature in its own right rather than just an agglomeration of black stone.

Ace drew his sword and Deuce readied his axe. You sighed and plucked at the strings of your stupid fucking lute, and wished once more that you’d had the foresight all those moons ago to take the cushy internship position Lord Crewel had tried to offer you. But, no. You’d wanted to be an adventurer.

The massive double doors of the entrance swung open with an eerie groan. A pair of stern looking gargoyles stood guard as the three of you cautiously made your way into the castle. You swore you could feel their eyes following you—that you’d seen them flex jagged claws into their stone perches in an aborted attempt to dive after you.

The inside of the looming fortress was no more welcoming than out. Dark, emerald, stained glass windows lined the walls—smothering any of the warmer light from the volcano and tinting the entire hall a sickly green-grey. The stone floors and walls were elaborately carved with the faded stories of dynasties long since passed, but what had once surely been immaculate craftsmanship had shifted and cracked with age—crushing floors into tight slopes and littering already narrow walkways with heavy debris.

“We just have to find the tallest tower,” Ace hummed, swiping at a few dangling trails of thorns with the blunted edge of his blade. “And then the highest room in that.”

“The treasure is never in the highest room in the tallest tower,” you complained. “You just heard that in a drinking song once.”

“Is that true?�� Deuce frowned, looking terribly betrayed.

“No way!” Ace snipped. “I told you! An old crone read my fortune in her bone dice, and she said to always check the highest room in the tallest tower! Because that’s where I’d find my greatest treasure!”

“Maybe the greatest treasure is the friends we’ve made along the way?” Deuce suggested helpfully.

“No.”

So you split off from a grouchy Ace and dejected Deuce to try and find some stairs. Every room in this stupid castle was swimming in so many shadows that you could hardly tell right from left, let alone if there were any kinds of secret doors or passageways that may lead to an equally secret tower. The chamber you’d found yourself in now was gigantic, and each tentative step you took echoed discordantly through the ashy gloom. You kicked miserably at a loose rock and it skittered off into the darkness with a dull thunk. And then something… odd, began to happen. That darkness began to move—to rise and unfurl like a great set of wings on a beast. And—oh. Oh no.

“Would you look at that,” Ace whistled under his breath, neck craned all the way back as he squinted at what was most definitely the tallest of all the towers this creepy castle had to offer. “Guess what, nonbelievers. I found the—”

“DRAGON!”

Whoosh went the great swathe of emerald fire as it exploded down the barren hallway and nipped at your heels. You dove out into the open courtyard just in time to avoid being roasted alive, and the gargantuan monster behind you let out a roar fit to shake the earth. A quick tuck-and-roll left you crouched behind a fallen pillar, and the dragon’s bright, green, glower turned on you and your garbage hiding spot with a rumbling snarl. Its rows of sharp, white, teeth closing just above your head—missing its mark by barely a hair’s width.

“Gotcha!” Deuce snarled, his armored fists dragging the dragon away by its tail. Or, well, tried to. Because the dragon was a hundred feet long at least, and your blue haired friend probably looked like nothing more than a pesky rat darting between its feet. It turned and snapped at him irritably, taking a great, big, step forward in a bid to get a firmer stance to attack. You threw yourself in the other direction to avoid being trampled.

“Go!” Ace called, charging in from the other side. “Quick!”

Because at the end of the day, they were still both your brave, tanky, warrior, friends. And you were just a very, very, squishy bard who really would not fare well against a particularly motivated goose, let alone a dragon. So you skidded through the rubble and onto your feet, and started to sprint back into the castle’s halls—hoping maybe you’d be able to find a bit more cover.

There was a great clatter, and both Ace and Deuce yelped. You looked back hurriedly to see the pair of them clutching onto the dragon’s tail for dear life as it whipped them back and forth through the ash and debris cluttering the ground. With one, final, great, sweep, the dragon pitched them into the air and sent them careening through the roof of that ‘tallest tower.’ You muttered a hasty incantation and the sparkling outlines of soft feathers danced along your fingers. You hoped you weren’t too far. You were probably too goddamn far. But you hummed frantically under your breath nonetheless and entreated your middling magic to give them a soft landing.

And then there was another wave of green hellfire raining down over your head and you turned and ran.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck—

Even if you’d been a champion sprinter, there was little good it would have done you against a beast whose stride was longer than you were tall. You made it back into some hall or other, and into another cavernous room, and then you were pinned into a corner—the dragon looming over you like a vengeful wraith come to take its due.

It was gigantic. Probably the biggest creature you’d ever seen. And it was sleek—all lithe muscle and glossy rows of black scales that glittered oddly in the dull, grey, light. Its wings spread wide behind it, spanning the entirety of the vast chamber. They looked like the sort of wings that could stir up a hurricane. The curling horns atop its head seemed sharp enough to gore a man or twenty, and the purple crests lining its skull were tapered down flat in a way that reminded you a bit deliriously of a pissy cat pinning its ears back before it swatted at you.

Its lips curled back over pointed canines as it snarled at you, and you were showered in a swathe of hot sparks.

“Oh, what large teeth you have,” you squeaked, and when the dragon dipped closer to bellow into your face, your reeled back with a splutter. “I—I mean white, sparkling, teeth!” you rattled, nearly incoherent. The dragon’s snout twitched away, almost like you’d startled it. “I mean, I’m sure you hear this all the time from your food, but—wow! Just! Very lovely! Definitely the prettiest smile I’ll ever be eaten by!”

Slowly it lowered its great head, and you could see the neon glare from its narrowed eyes.

“Not that you have to eat me,” you added hurriedly, hoping to whatever Gods could hear you that your smart mouth could finally be useful for more than just talking circles around assholes in bars or weaseling your friends out of shitty contracts. “I’d very much like not to be eaten. But all the same, we did intrude in your home—and it’s definitely a very nice home—so I’d totally get it. And I guess if I did have to die today, knowing that my life would be in the hands of something so magnificent is certainly reassuring.”

The dragon seemed to preen a bit at that. You could see the sharp crests beneath its horns soften as tension bled from the beast’s posture. It ducked in close again, and this time you felt a sharp pull of air rush past your cheeks as it sniffed you. Its nostrils were the size your head—bigger even, maybe. You didn’t want to think about it, but the dry heat of its breath puffing into your face made the entire thing a bit hard to ignore.  

“Did I mention what a charming home you have?” you rambled on. “Very aesthetic. The gargoyles at the gate were a lovely touch.”

The dragon made a low, warbling, noise in its throat that wasn’t quite a growl, but wasn’t particularly… reassuring, either. It made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

It ducked away—not far, just enough to reach one of the large, carved, walls at the outskirts of the room. Its long neck slithered out before pausing pointedly over an archway. It took you a long moment to realize it was gesturing to something. Another gargoyle from the looks of things—this one almost entirely crumbled away under the strains of time. You could just barely make out the shape of its square jaw and taloned fingers.

You nodded so hard you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“Yes! I see! Very beautiful! Such fine craftsmanship!”

The dragon cooed at you. Swear on your life and all the money in your back packet. An actual, honest to God, coo. Fuck, maybe you’d managed to charm your way out of imminent dismemberment and death after all.

It ambled closer once again, a curiosity lighting its eyes and warming those neon irises into something that was less poisonous-hell-fire and more mellow-evening-in-the-forest.

Amidst all the rippling waves of ebony scales, your eyes caught on the smallest smear of crimson. Just a touch of red—right along the spikes of its tail. Carefully, cautiously, slower than molasses, you stepped forward with your hands raised. You whispered a handful of familiar words under your breath and your palms glowed fuzzy and blue. Dragons were supposed to be inherently magical, right? So this one would certainly understand that the string of syllables you’d babbled out were good, and helpful, and not at all a provocation. The dragon was looking down at you with lidded eyes, its gaze a bit unfocused. You gulped.

“I’m sorry my friends messed with your tail,” you apologized, gingerly holding your fingers out to hover over the abrasions without actually touching. “They were just trying to protect me. If—if that makes it any better.” The minuscule wound began to knit itself back together neatly beneath the pulses of your magic. “I do tend to need a lot of protecting—I’m not much a warrior, if that wasn’t completely obvious by the everything about me—so I can’t really blame them for being a bit gung-ho about it.”

After a moment or two, the scratches had faded back into solid, matte, black and you drew back with a content hum.

“There! All fixed!” You gave your most winning smile. Please don’t eat me, your brain chanted on endless repeat. Please don’t eat me please don’t eat me please don’t eat me—

The dragon reared back and settled on its haunches with another heavy puff of sweltering breath. You could feel the heat of it prickling all the way up your arms. After a long, long, moment of silent consideration, the dragon leaned forward again and rumbled deep in its chest. When you only stood there, properly petrified, it huffed again and bumped its nose against your sternum, nearly toppling you over.

“I don’t—” you started, nervous. “I’m sorry. I don’t really get what you’re trying to say.”

With another sigh that sounded entirely too put upon, the dragon lowered its great head. The air itself seemed to grow heavy against your shoulders, and you could taste the cloying bitterness of strong magics on the back of your tongue. Black miasma oozed from beneath the dragon’s talons and melted along its scales. The caustic scent of ash and petrichor burned along your nostrils, and you had to pinch your eyes shut and cover your nose to keep from coughing. You managed to sneak a peek past your fingers just in time to watch the shadowed outline of the beast collapse. And out of that puddle of black goo emerged a man­. He was tall and lithe, just as the dragon had been, with glowing green eyes that were terribly familiar. They were framed with thick, dark, lashes and sat perfectly on a face that was nearly too handsome to be human (well, it really wasn’t human you supposed, so that little tidbit probably accounted for said inhuman beauty well enough). Recognizable eyes and stature or no, the curling horns atop his head would have sealed the deal plenty well enough on their own.

He shook off the shadows twining around his ankles with a lazy twist of the hand and then turned to you with a curious little hum.

And holy fuck Mister Dragon apparently had no sense of shame, or maybe just no qualms about social niceties and practicalities, because his human self was wearing about just as many clothes as his lizard form had been.

You squeezed your eyes shut with a squeak, and then double covered them with your hands for good measure.

A chuckle rolled through the air—as dark and pleasantly rich as the finest of chocolates. And then there was a clawed finger beneath your chin, tilting your head back, and back, and back until you were at least half-way sure it would probably be safe to open your eyes again without infringing on his decency.

“You are fascinating, Child of Man,” it—he—hummed, low in his throat. His thumb dragged down to hook beneath the curve of your jaw and support the finger tucked up under your chin. “And it’s been so, very, long since I’ve been fascinated by anything.”

“Uh,” you replied, like a perfectly functional human being.

The dragon’s lips curled up over his pointed teeth—still just as sharp and white as they had been when he’d been so much bigger and scalier.

“I think I’d like to keep you,” he said with a nod to himself, as casually as one may talk about picking up extra groceries from the market.

“Uh,” you said again.

“You did mention that you needed protecting,” he continued, tapping a clawed finger against his own chin. The small smile quirking his lips twisted into something smug. “And that is certainly something at which I would excel.”

Your head was swimming.

“I—I mean. I’m honored that you—that… you—” You couldn’t even think the words, let alone get them past your brain and out of your mouth. You cleared your throat and fought to keep your eyes level with his clavicle and nowhere else. “D-Don’t you think you’re moving a bit fast?” you laughed nervously. “I mean, I’m sure my friends will probably be on their way back down soon—and—I mean, we haven’t even introduced ourselves yet. I don’t even know your name.”

He blinked, slow and serpentine.

“Oh. I suppose you wouldn’t.” He canted his head to the side, long strands of that inky black hair of his spilling across his shoulder. An amused sort of grin worked its way along his mouth. “Dragons are not keen to give out our true names so readily, but you seem like a clever one. Tell me—what do you think I’m called then, hmm?”

You glanced up quickly at the horns atop his head and couldn’t help yourself.

“Tsunotarou?”

He let out a bark of laughter that seemed to shake the walls.

“Oh,” he trilled, looking positively delighted. The hand not curled beneath your chin reached down to snag your own, and he brought your wrist up to his lips. You could feel the imprints of his canines against the soft skin there. “I’ll definitely be keeping you.”

[flawseer]

Jade Mountain Academy students

#6 - Skywing chapter

I like Skywings a lot actually. I think they were underutilized in the story. And then there is Flame. Poor, lovable Flame. One day I would like to write a more in-depth think piece on him, his character, and his role in the story. But not today, so here are some Skywings:

Carnelian

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Jade

Color - Tomato red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Moonwatcher (Nightwing), Kinkajou (Rainwing)

Favorite subject - Exercise

Least fav. subject - Science

Physical characteristics - tan horns, bendy; banded markings running down upper neck; light to medium scarring across face, neck, and limbs; medium to large stature, well-defined musculature

Other characteristics - selectively uncooperative, refuses to do assignments that annoy her (monitor for now); abrasive, three reported threats of violence against students (monitored, suggest expanding physical extracurricular options to burn off excess energy); appears to respond well to praise

Flame

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Gold

Color - Crimson red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Bigtail (Nightwing), Pike (Seawing)

Favorite subject - did not disclose

Least fav. subject - "All of them"

Physical characteristics - double-bent horns; black dorsal plates and accents; large, jagged scar running across left side of the face, intersecting the eye; blind in left eye; medium size with thin, wiry frame

Other characteristics - very uncooperative, refuses to do assignments and has poor attendance record (monitored, suggest counseling, consider withdrawing from student body if behavior does not improve); emotionally volatile, does not like eye contact, will react with hostility if stared at or if facial scar is mentioned (suggest counseling); shows signs of post traumatic stress and severe self image issues (suggest counseling); has turned down counseling offer (give space for now, ask again later)

Thrush

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Silver

Color - Apricot yellow

Relatives - Peregrine (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Changbai (Icewing), Boto (Rainwing)

Favorite subject - History

Least fav. subject - Anatomy

Physical characteristics - straight horns; row of dark scales running down ventral side of neck; beak-like mouth; smallish stature, small-boned

Other characteristics - decent work ethic; very energetic, difficulty to sit still; eager to prove personal competence; frequently interrupts people while they're speaking (suggest guidance and monitoring)

Peregrine

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Copper

Color - Brick red

Relatives - Thrush (cousin)

Clawmate(s) - Pronghorn (Sandwing)

Favorite subject - Anatomy

Least fav. subject - Art

Physical characteristics - dark-colored stripe patterns running down the side of the neck; long limbs; medium to large stature with slender features; deaf in left ear

Other characteristics - practically-inclined; morbid sense of humor; tends to play with food before eating; owns a collection of small, sharpened animal bones (has been instructed not to bring them to class); expressed interest in a class/seminar about medicinal herbs

Garnet

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - Quartz

Color - Amaranth red

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - Siamang (Rainwing), Arid (Sandwing)

Favorite subject - History

Least fav. subject - Cultural Exchange

Physical characteristics - sharply bent horns curving inward; ridge of thorn-like spines running from nose down to tip of tail; light scarring across ventral side; large frame with well-defined musclulature

Other characteristics - morose; does not like loud noises or crowds; prefers to eat alone; longest fire-breathing distance; notable age-gap to rest of winglet (no issues so far, but continue to monitor social integration)

Peril

Tribe - Skywing

Winglet - not assigned

Color - Tiger orange

Relatives - none on site

Clawmate(s) - none

Favorite subject - class attendance suspended

Least fav. subject - class attendance suspended

Physical characteristics - afflicted with firescales, body emits dangerous levels of heat at all times; scales show faint fiery glow like embers; bright yellow vein-like pattern spread through wing membranes; bright blue eyes; tall stature, very thin

Other characteristics - CAUTION! Do not come in physical contact with her, severe burn hazard; instruct student body to keep minimum distance; be mindful of surfaces she was in prolonged contact with, as they could carry residual heat; keep away from flammable areas; we don't know what to do with her yet, for now just give her a place to sleep and eat

[shootingmorningstar]

Was inspired by bambygourl’s fanart and a TikTok I saw. Dressing up as Roger and Jessica Rabbit for a costume party with Lucifer. I think he’d be all pouty and grumpy about dressing up as such a silly character and not a suave charming character. Especially since he’d take a look at the white button up, red trousers with suspenders, and blue bow tie with yellow polka-dots and see it as a fashion nightmare XD. And don’t get him started on the bunny ears and tail. Tho his mood is sufficiently uplifted when he sees the reader dressed up as Jessica Rabbit. Low cut red dress with a slit and all. Just imagine pulling on his suspenders or bow tie for a kiss, getting lipstick on his mouth and face, and cooing over how adorable and handsome her honey-bunny is.

I've been meaning to get to this request ever since I saw it because it is just so good. I'm definitely biased for anything Lucifer related but god this is just so cute. Anon, your brain is outstanding. I love pouty Lucifer. If you still have that tiktok on hand or ever come across it again, do you think you could send it my way .ᐣ

You didn't include what kind of request you wanted though, and my default is HCs -- but I couldn't help but throw in a little drabble based on them, too. Or, at least I intended it to be a drabble .ᐣ It got away from me, haha.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀Lucifer and Female Reader Dressing

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ Up As Roger and Jessica Rabbit ~

Lucifer is initially thrilled when you bring up wanting to attend a famous yearly costume party in Pride with him. A chance to show you off sounds amazing, and he's great with costumes. Just the thought of you two matching is enough to get him excited.

You seemed just as excited as he was -- in fact, he was even more excited when you told him you'd already had something in mind .ᐟ He's pestering you to tell him just what the costumes were as soon as the plan leaves your lips, but much to his displeasure, you refuse, saying you want to keep it a surprise.

You'd even managed to resist the very strongest puppy-dog eyes and pout. Impressive. He usually succeeds in getting his way with that one -- who could ever say no to that face .ᐣ Having exhausted his options, he sighs his defeat.

Well, nearly exhausted his options. He was entirely too ready to pretend that you'd won and snoop through your closet the second you walked away. Apparently his quick glance at said closet had given him away though, and with a quick deadpan stare alongside a scary sounding ❛ don't you dare. ❜ has his feet rooted to the floor.

Did his poker face really suck so bad .ᐣ He's definitely practicing it in the mirror later.

Ultimately, though, he trusts you completely and your choice in matching outfits is no exception, so he allows it to drop for now. There's still a few more days until the party, but that time could be spent much more productively by your side rather than whining about clothing.

That is, until the day of the party comes around and you bring out his outfit. You'd never seen Lucifer's jaw drop quite like that before and it takes iron will to stop yourself from giggling at his present state.

He doesn't understand the reference. Lucifer regrets his past decision to give humanity free will. It's obvious, even if he never seems to say it outright. He had given out such a precious gift and so much of humanity chose to abuse it, to be nothing but cruel. Looking at sinners and by extension humanity is just a terrible reminder of what he'd done, so he prefers to avoid it whenever possible. This quite often includes the media of the living realm -- he's never even heard about the movie, forget seeing it.

So without the full context, all he knows is that you've just handed him an absolutely atrocious outfit -- and to make it worse, you expect him to go out in it .ᐣ Seriously, he whinges, red overalls with a blue bow .ᐣ Rabbit ears .ᐣ And to make it worse, you won't even show him your outfit until he gets dressed .ᐟ He can't believe you're laughing.

He sounds completely and totally ridiculous, in your defense. Seriously, has he seen his regular outfit .ᐣ He looks absolutely stunning, sure -- but he also looks like he walked right out of a circus.

It says a lot, though, that despite the complete and total pity party he's currently throwing himself, he's beginning to shuffle into the costume anyway. He's grumbling the whole way, but the fact that he just doesn't have it in him to say no to you warms your heart.

You had been so, so eager about this party, and the way your eyes had shined like stars when you told him had long since burned itself into his heart.

wc ; 1.2k

His seemingly endless complaints had tapered off ever so slightly when you shimmied his grasp off of the ruby red suspenders sagging unbuttoned over his chest. By the time you take the fabric into your own hands his protests faded to little more than a mumble under his breath, and with the very first snap of a button in place under your gentle touch he'd quieted completely. Where a look of exasperation had reflected off his face seconds prior, in its place now is that of silent awe, his gaze trained on your every action. The gesture of intimacy is enough to leave Lucifer somewhat choked up, his heart still not used to receiving such acts of adoration and kindness. You tie the cornflower blue fabric adorned with tiny yellow spots into a bow to accentuate the costume and cover his hands briefly with your own as you slip the gloves onto his fingers.

Not twenty minutes had passed, and he finds his attitude regarding the ensemble shifting with every second you take to assist him into it. Each and every part of it looks ridiculous at best, but the thought of you picking it out solely for him has him warming up to the idea.

Declaring your work complete, you raise your grasp ever so slightly, palms holding each of his cheeks close, your thumbs rubbing soft little circles below his eyes. Your affections are sufficient only when finished with a kiss placed on his forehead. ❛ I'm going to go get dressed, okay .ᐣ No peeking. I promise I'll be right back. ❜

The way his wrists on instinct dart out to catch yours to bring you close to him again as you pull back nearly got you. He's extended his lips in a pout once more. You hate to leave him quite so sad looking but you know he'll appreciate what you have planned enough for it to be worth it.

Bathroom door shutting closed behind you, there's the smallest bit of lingering regret that he can't help you to get dressed like you had for him. The outfit itself takes you barely a few moments to slip into -- it's the makeup that requires precision, time and effort. His pacing around the bedroom is audible, impatient steps sounding into stomps, the sounds causing you to choke on a laugh. You need a steady hand for your eyeshadow and that's hard to maintain during an act quite as cute as this.

Nonetheless, your look is finished within half an hour and therefore Lucifer is put out of his misery. It's not a second after the door clicks open that his attention is caught, snapped to the light peaking out of the doorway. Stepping into the small hallway, your eyes are met with his own -- and the way his pupils widen as soon as he gets a glance of your dress makes both your efforts and his complaining worthwhile. His gaze takes you in from top to bottom, each detail enchanting him further. The dress so perfectly hugging your curves is crimson to match him and absolutely breathtaking -- and are you walking towards him .ᐣ Your strut does well to accentuate the slit stitched into the leg, your thigh tantalizing in its display.

Finally reclaiming your place beside him, one of your fingers reaches out, finding purchase under his chin -- and when you tilt his head up you swear you saw his eyes flash red. ❛ Hello, my darling husband, ❜ you coo, sending his already overloaded brain into a frenzy. Husband . . .ᐣ You wanted . . .ᐣ With him, really . . .ᐣ And although he's beginning to put the pieces together and clue in that such a term of endearment was part of your match, you seemed so happy to say it. He snaps his focus back onto just how stunning you look tonight, but the idea has firmly implanted itself into the depths of his mind.

Back into the present time, his hands have begun to roam -- he wants to commit every detail of you to memory, and that includes the feeling of your dresses fabric under his fingertips. His grasp is met with your own, for it's not long before you're pulling the straps of his suspenders, tugging him forward into a kiss. By the time he's recovered from his surprise enough to reciprocate, though, you're already beginning to pull away. He chases your lips with a whine but you've already moved on, pressing a kiss first to his cheek and then to his forehead. It's only when you offer him a small compact mirror does he understand -- each of your kisses has left behind a little bit of the lipstick you oh so painstakingly applied. Your marks on his face have left him entranced, desperately craving more.

A gasp rips itself from those same cherry red lips in surprise -- you weren't expecting him to summon forth his tail, much less wrap it around your midsection and use it to bring you closer. ❛ Kiss me again, ❜ He pleads, desperate and breathy. ❛ Anything for my honey bunny, ❜ you chime, matching the mark on his left cheek with one on the right. ❛ You just look so cute, ❜ between each kiss is another offering of praise and compliments, the blush left in your wake matching excellently. ❛ Who's my handsome bunny .ᐣ ❜

Your multitude of kisses has left Lucifer stunned and looking nothing short of angelic -- even more so than usual. You're fully intending on giving him several more, leaning in to do just that when the wall mounted clock besides you chimes a new hours arrival, alerting you to the time. ❛ Oh, dear. I'm very sorry, Mr. Rabbit, but I'm afraid we simply must be going. We don't want to be late, do we .ᐣ ❜

Fixing your lipstick takes all of a few seconds, leaving you free to grab a makeup wipe off the pouch resting atop your vanity and wipe all of the stains you'd adorned his face with away. A snap of his wrist catches yours just inches from his face, however, halting your plans in their tracks. Confused, you look to him for an explanation, a soft ❛ leave them. please .ᐣ ❜ being all he offers you. ❛ You're going to go to the party like this, love .ᐣ ❜ to which he nods sagely. He can't bear to part with them -- not when the lipstick marks are yours, not when they declare proudly that he is yours.

❛ If you say so, honey. ❜ You can't deny that the prospect leaves your heart fluttering. A grand, golden portal appears with a simple snap of his fingers and he takes your arm, now linked with his own in an attempt to usher you forward. He can't wait to show you off, to watch as other demons eyes glow green as they stare his way. You stay still, though, prompting him to look back at you with an air of confusion. It's then that you lean close, whispering ❛ be a good bunny and there will be more where that came from. too bad we'll have to wait until we come home, hmm .ᐣ ❜

Suddenly Lucifer can't wait for this party to be over.

I still can't believe I'd originally intended this to be 100 words and it ended up over a thousand. I can't help it, I'm so weak for anything Lucifer related. I'm half tempted to write an absolutely filthy post party part 2. If there's enough demand for it .ᐣ I just might.

As always, let me know what you think .ᐣ Hearing back from you guys keeps me motivated ~

[wosoluver]

Don't get sad, get even

Part 3/3 - previous

Patri Guijarro x reader. Claudia Pina x reader

-> At your guy's request there is two alternative endings.

Ending I: Let me take care of you

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

You tried to catch up to Patri when she was leaving.

"Can we talk?" - You said following her out to the parking lot.

"About what?" - She answered with an attitude.

"Seriously?! You got the two of you suspended from next game!"

"Oh of course this was my doing!"

"Grow up! It was, your fault! You should be punishing me. Not Claudia. She's been nothing but a good friend, always."

"Yeah, you two look real good friends."

"Stop that. It was just a kiss! You and I did a lot more than that, and we were still just friends. I don't think a kiss has anything on fucking your best friend for months."

"You were with me. Why did you kiss her?"

"Excuse me? You were with someone else! You barely noticed my presence."

"Why are we even discussing this? We aren't a thing! You have no right to be jealous!"

"Your right! I read the situation wrong and that was on me. But you, you only cared about the attention I was giving out, once my attention had went to someone else. And that's on you."

"Don't say that. It's unfair."

"Is it? Admit to yourself, that was what you were after. No offense, but that's who you are! And you know that. I've watched you do this to too many girls.

I was stupid! I mixed my emotions with my pleasures."

"Maybe this should have stayed in Ibiza."

"Finally something we agree on.

I didn't mean to hurt you-"

"Yes you did." - she said interrupting you.

"Fine. That night I did, only because I was hurting.

But this, was never meant to destroy our friendship.

And now look at us! You basically attacked Clau today."

"I'll apologize tomorrow."

"Thank you."

"Can I go now?"

You only nodded your head. And watched her pull out of the parking lot and leave.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

One thing about Clau, is that she'd rather only have you as a friend forever, than not having you at all.

That's what always stoped her from confessing how she felt.

That morning was rough. She was angry at Patri for treating you badly. But felt extremely guilty. She knew what she was doing when she kissed you.

And it felt so shitty to hurt a friend, even if they deserve it.

She was snapped out of her thoughts as she answered your call.

"Hey." - but she soon heard you sniff on the other side. You were crying.

"Hey, uhm I just wanted to let you know I talked to Patri, and she said she'll apologize to you tomorrow."

"Fuck that. Why are you crying?"

"It's nothing. I have to go." - and you hung up immediately.

Claudia was dead silent. She was fighting herself hard. But she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep after that, so she decided to go to your apartment.

She knocked loudly three times. When you opened the door, Clau was standing there anxiously. She had kept it in for far too long, and she simply couldn't anymore.

"Choose me."

"What?"

"Choose me! Choose someone that actually cares. Someone who's ready to settle down with you.

I like you! And it has been a pain to watch and not be able to do anything. But if you choose me, you can finally be happy."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

I didn't quite like this ending, simply because I couldn't find a way for her to be deserving of it. It felt like no matter what/how I wrote it always seemed like Clau was the reader's second option. Since I couldn't come up with anything, I preferred to keep it this way.

[coven-of-genesis]

Pendulum readings

Pendulum reading, also known as pendulum dowsing, is a divination technique that involves using a weighted object suspended from a string or chain to gain insight, answer questions, or receive guidance. The pendulum itself is usually a crystal, metal, or wooden object with a pointed tip.

The practice of pendulum reading is based on the belief that the pendulum is sensitive to subtle energy or vibrations and can provide answers by tapping into the user's subconscious mind or higher guidance. The movement of the pendulum is thought to be influenced by these energies or by the presence of spiritual forces.

Here's a basic overview of how pendulum readings are conducted:

Choosing a Pendulum: Select a pendulum that you feel a connection with. It can be made of various materials, such as crystal, metal, or wood. Some people believe that different types of pendulums have specific properties or energies associated with them, so choose one that resonates with you.

Setting the Intention: Before starting a pendulum reading, it's essential to set your intention. Clearly state or think about the purpose of your divination session and what you seek to gain or understand.

Establishing Yes/No Responses: Determine the directional movements of the pendulum for "yes" and "no" responses. This is typically done by asking the pendulum questions with known answers (e.g., "Is my name [your name]?"). Observe the movement of the pendulum in response to different questions and note the pattern.

Calibrating the Pendulum: Some practitioners prefer to calibrate their pendulum at the beginning of each session to ensure accurate responses. This involves asking the pendulum a series of calibration questions to establish its response pattern for "yes," "no," and sometimes "maybe" or "uncertain."

Asking Questions: With the pendulum properly calibrated, you can begin asking specific questions. The questions should be clear, focused, and answerable with a "yes" or "no" response. Hold the pendulum by its chain or string and allow it to swing freely, asking your question either aloud or mentally.

Observing the Pendulum's Movement: The pendulum will start to move in a particular direction, such as swinging back and forth, side to side, or in a circular motion. Each person's pendulum movements may vary, so it's important to pay attention to what is typical for you. The movement indicates the answer to the question asked.

Interpreting the Responses: Once you have received a response, interpret it based on the established directional movements. For example, if back and forth is "yes" and side to side is "no," you can understand the answer accordingly. Some practitioners also use charts or diagrams with various options or choices for more detailed responses.

It's worth noting that pendulum readings rely on the user's subconscious mind and intuition. The interpretation of the pendulum's movements is subjective and can vary from person to person. It's essential to approach pendulum readings with an open mind and use them as a tool for self-reflection, insight, and guidance rather than absolute predictions.

Remember that divination practices like pendulum reading are not scientifically proven methods and should be approached with a critical and discerning mindset.

[dailyspnpolls]

THE FINALE IS HERE!!

From your top two of each previous poll in this series comes this finale showdown of Dean's many outfits!

Will Dean's LARPing costume be his ultimate dress up? Or will the hoodie blorbify it's way to the top? Maybe you prefer the cheeky grin behind those rock star sunglasses... or the suspenders fit for a Ken doll... or maybe you like your Dean to be in his comfort clothes, fixing his Baby or making dumb jokes while lounging around the bunker. Get your votes in, and make sure to campaign for your fave!

[thebibutterflyao3]

Day Fourteen - Death @sapphicmicrofics

April Daily Series - 568 words

<<<Previous Part OR Start Here

Pandora held up a long gold chain with moons, stars, and crystals suspended from it in front of the sitting room window. “Wouldn’t it be better by the window? So the sun can sparkle through it and create rainbows?”

“Yes, but if it was in the bathroom, the mirror could reflect the sparkle too,” Lily pointed out.

“That’s true, but then no one would see it.”

It was official. Death would be preferable to listening to Pandora and Lily trying to make a single fucking decision about where anything should go in the flat. Marlene is teetering on the verge of shaking both of them until their brains rattle around in their skulls, which she has already been informed by Pandora is not possible because “there are too many juices.”

The eye roll she aimed at James earned her a shrug, but at least it made Regulus stifle a laugh. They seemed entertained by the exhaustive, item by item inventory of both Lily and Pandora’s childhood bits and bobs, including the back story for each of said items. Marlene wanted to shove all of their shite in the closet and leave, but no, she was stuck here with the indecision twins and their codependent sidekicks.

“James, is there anything left to bring up?” she asked, perching on the arm of his chair. “Anything at all?”

“Nope! That’s all of it!”

Regulus eyed her position, then prodded her hip. “Seats are for sitting and there are plenty to choose from.”

“Says the bloke in his boyfriend’s lap,” she snarked.

“I am his seat,” James insisted, shoving her away. “Why don’t you find a place around here for lunch?”

Lily looked up and pointed at him. “Good idea, but we’re paying. That was the deal. Moving services for food.”

James nodded and smiled graciously until she turned away, then he smirked at Marlene and mouthed, “over my dead body.” Regulus patted his cheek fondly and whispered in his ear. They were plotting something, Marlene was sure of it.

“Alright, what are we craving? Pizza, curry, chips?” Marlene asked the group at large, scrolling through the options on her phone. “Latin cuisine is out because James will spend the entire meal whining about how his mum’s is so much better.”

“Because it is!” he defended.

Marlene shrugged. “Yeah well, I’d rather watch your mum cook, but she’s not here.”

“Don’t start this shite again.”

Pandora’s mobile pinged for the fiftieth time today. She sighed and tapped at the screen. “How many ways can I say ‘she’s fine?’ She isn’t going to believe me until she sees for herself.”

Lily took the phone and pointed it at Marlene. “Smile! There. Send her proof of life.”

“Is that for Dorcas?” Marlene asked, trying, and failing, to remain calm. Her heart rate suddenly leapt as if the fool organ wanted to run free. “Is she the one who was texting you all day?”

“Mostly, yes. Some were from my boss, Horace ‘boundaries? what are boundaries?’ Slughorn,” Pandora replied. “Dorcas is worried that you may have a concussion.”

“She doesn’t,” James said decisively. “I’ve seen her concussed before and she can’t manage this level of attitude if her brain is bruised.”

Marlene flipped him off without looking up from her phone. “Anyway, food? Preferences?”

A camera flash startled her. Marlene glanced up in time to see Pandora lower her phone. The blonde grinned as she tapped at her screen. “Proof of attitude.”

Next Part>>>

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now - ch. 12

I’m dedicating this chapter to @taylorswift because today is Speak Now (Taylor’s Version) day. In the album’s honor, Rowan’s getting Aelin with those green eyes baby as the lights go down and giving something that’ll haunt her when he’s not around lmao

Warnings: language, NSFW

Words: 4,2K

Aelin was very close to murdering the next person who dared say she was glowing.

She didn’t feel like glowing when she was suspended from the OR until she got back from maternity leave—and no, Rowan had no idea the reason that happened was because she almost passed out mid-surgery.

She didn’t feel like glowing now that she had fatigue and back pain most of the time.

She didn’t feel like glowing now that she had a monthiversary to attend and a belly too big to wear something cute. Aelin frowned at the maternity towel she was wearing. Even those had to be in a whole new size for her.

Groaning, she sat on the bed. She’d meet the Whitethorns once again at the monthly birthday party Sellene threw to her daughter, and the only thing Aelin wanted was to look nice. It was so easy a few months ago, but a nightmare now that none of her cute clothes would fit, and even her Crocs felt like rubber socks because of her swollen feet. Crocs. Her discomfort while pregnant was so big she surrendered to the ugliest shoes imaginable.

Aelin’s preferred thing to wear at home was the biggest dress she could find. Period. Pants became a nuisance when she was peeing more often than not. At least she was in her own house now—the fourth one Aelin lived in since finding out about the pregnancy—and could be grouchy all she wanted.

She stared at her open closet, but wasn’t really looking at it. Just letting the hollowness in her chest take over.

Three knocks on her bedroom door. “Are you ready?”

Aelin groaned. “I don’t wanna go.”

“Oh, thank God.” Rowan’s shoulders dropped, and he immediately texted his cousin while rambled, “I get celebrating milestones, but who in their right mind would invite every Whitethorn in this city to their house every month? Who’s benefiting from those parties?“

Aelin snorted. “Not you.”

“Definitely not me.” He pocketed his phone and sat on the bed by her side. “Alright, now why don’t you want to go?”

She crossed her arms over her belly. “My nice clothes are too small.”

“What?” Rowan asked as if that observation was absurd. “What about the White Hawks jersey you stole from me? I bet that’s the nicest thing you own, pregnancy-sized or not.”

”Not funny.” She only borrowed that out of necessity. Aelin gave him a long look, then looked down at her bump. “I look like I have a watermelon strapped to myself.”

“What about it?”

Her eyes widened. “Are you being serious right now?”

She wasn’t upset just because of the belly. It just added up to the stretch marks, the limited options of clothes, the constant pain, the insomnia—

“What? I—“ Rowan leaned closer to her, looking lost. “What do you want me to say, Aelin? Of course you’re bigger. You’re carrying my baby. That doesn’t make you any less beautiful than you were before.” He caressed her shoulder, eyes roaming through her body as they got a little darker. “In fact…”

“What?” She asked, quickly enthralled by his eyes and hand on her.

Rowan leaned his forehead against her with his eyes closed and whispered, “Do you need me to show you how attractive you still are?”

Aelin licked her lips, trying to think of something to say as the pleasant tingling in her body took over and clouded her thoughts.

He cupped her cheek. “Say yes.”

“Please.”

He took her mouth, kissing her in a gentle and urgent manner at the same time. With her arms wrapped around him, Aelin opened up for him and swirled her tongue around his, making him groan.

She tugged at his clothes. Rowan broke the kiss and complied, but not without taking her towel off as well. He took her in, languid eyes assessing her body and making her shiver with his hungry gaze.

Rowan laid next to her and leaned in for another long kiss, and Aelin’s heart was as strong as her knees got weak. He trailed gentle kisses down her breasts, the dark line on her stomach, the stretch marks on her hips.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against her bump, caressing it with his eyes closed.

Aelin’s heart skipped a beat. There were three words she felt a lot like screaming, but her tongue seemed tangled in knots when she opened her mouth.

The hand on her bump slid to her folds, making her breath hitch. Rowan kissed his way down until his mouth reached her clit, and—

She groaned. Not a good groan.

His head popped over her belly. “What?”

“I can’t see you down there.”

“Oh.” He frowned. “And you don’t like it.”

”Well, I do like it.” Aelin sat on the bed and tried to look as reassuring as she could. “But I want you, not some ghost pussy-eater—“

“A what?” He asked with widened eyes, his face somewhere between confusion and amusement.

Aelin’s mouth opened and closed as she thought about what came out of her mouth a second ago. “Shut up.”

Rowan chuckled and laid down beside her on the bed, spooning her close as his hand sneaked down her front. “Is this better?”

“Perfect.” Aelin’s breath hitched when he touched her again, her body filled with warmth. “You can also fuck me like this, you know?”

“What if…” he trailed, putting the engines inside his brain to work. “I didn’t?”

Aelin’s face faltered. “What.”

He looked pained beside her. “I don’t want to hurt the baby.”

“Ro…” Aelin turned around to face him and clamped her lips together, trying to take him seriously. “After all the pregnancy books you read, I can’t believe you’re worried about this.”

“I know how you like things. It’s not cervix-friendly.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “And I don’t want the baby to be born with a sunken forehead.”

She couldn’t do it anymore. Aelin took off the invisible seal on her mouth and let out a loud cackle, laughing into his shoulder. From the way it was shaking too, he didn’t seem too upset.

Looking up, she stroked his cheek with her thumb. “Do you know what you’re being right now?”

The smile he wore lit her up from inside out. “A big Buzzard?”

“The biggest of all Buzzards,” she muttered into his lips.

Rowan didn’t reply, he just held her face and kissed her again. It started sweet, with his lips brushing against hers while he caressed her everywhere he could, but he couldn’t control the level of heat after her tongue was in. Aelin brushed her hands over his abs while giving long, fervent kisses.

She whimpered when he got to her neck. “I miss your weight on me.”

Rowan moved them so he was spooning her now. Her belly was too big for him to be comfortably over her, so this was their best option now.

“Is this okay?” He asked against the shell of her ear, making her shiver.

“Perfect,” she breathed when his hand met her folds, stroking before he pressed against her clit. She moaned, intoxicated by his heat spreading under her skin.

Rowan plunged one finger in and then another, making her grind against his fingers. His voice sounded nearly broken when he said, “You’re so wet, I could—“

“Do it.”

He adjusted Aelin’s legs in one swift motion and thrust inside her in another, making her a whimpering mess while he worked her open from behind. Rowan trailed kisses on the side of her neck and teased her breast as he set a rhythm. Aelin was squirming, feeling like she was bursting and drowning with pleasure at the same time.

Rowan fucked her in a languid pace, purring sweet nothings about how pretty she looked and how well she was taking his cock. Aelin's nerves were on fire, and she completely lost sense of composure when his hand went back to her clit.

He wasn’t slapping her ass while sinking so deep she struggled to stay upright, but Aelin liked soft Rowan. She liked this very much.

Her walls clenched around his cock, making his thrusts get erratic and harder than he was previously doing, and that’s what made her go over the edge. Aelin cried out his name, pulsing while shockwaves gripped her body. The noises he was making became strangled, before Rowan thrust one last time and came undone behind her.

He trailed a few kisses from her neck to her shoulder and sank into the mattress, still hugging her close. However, Aelin took two deep breaths and got up as fast as she could.

“Where are you going?” He asked, frowning.

“Squashed bladder!” She called over her shoulder while waddling her way to her suite’s bathroom.

Aelin sat on the toilet, feeling the relief that was just partially because of her bladder getting empty. She closed her eyes. Her heart was leaping, somersaulting inside her fluttering chest. This was good, one step closer to where she wanted to get. Things got too domestic, too cozy for it to be with her platonic co-parent she had non-platonic feelings for. She couldn’t take the friendship arrangement much longer.

Aelin‘s heart stopped when she saw blood on her toitet paper, but relaxed again when she noticed it was very faint and browinsh. Just a little spotting. She’d keep an eye on it, but it was a common thing during pregnancy. Especially after having sex. She smiled at the thought, still a little giddy.

Back on the bed, she didn’t bother getting dressed again before sinking into Rowan’s embrace.

“Everything okay?” He asked while stroking her hair.

She snuggled into him. “Sure thing.”

“I didn’t hurt you? The baby feels alright? Because I read pregnancy sex can hurt—“

“I’m great, Buzzard.” Aelin snorted. “Just a little spotting, but it’s fine.”

Rowan jumped into a sitting position. “You’re bleeding?”

“What? No!”

“I know what spotting is. It’s blood.”

“Rowan, calm down.” She tugged on his arm until he was laid down with her again, but it did nothing to loosen those tight shoulders of his. “It’s a normal thing, but I’ll keep an eye on it, okay? If it continues or if anything else happens, I’ll let you know.”

His eyes looked anguished when he asked, “You promise?”

She gave him a reassuring smile. “Of course.”

“Because you don’t tell me things sometimes. I hate it.”

“Buzzard,” she teased.

They stayed there for a moment, studying each other. She rubbed his frown with her thumb, making him give her a faint smile.

“Aelin, I—“ he sighed into her hair. “I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

She blinked, slowly processing how her heart sank with his words. Did ‘anymore’ mean ‘while you’re pregnant’ or ‘ever again’?

“Is it because of the spotting?”

He hugged her tighter. “I don’t wanna take risks with the baby.”

“Of course,” was her only reply. She was a little numb, and didn’t know what to think.

If Rowan meant they shouldn’t take risks by starting a relationship and reinforced the reason they decided to stay friends, she was screwed.

If Rowan meant they wouldn’t be having sex while she was pregnant, Aelin would need to wait at least a month after birth to seduce him into being with her.

At least the orgasm made her drowsy enough to sleep.

˜˜

Aelin Galathynius was a woman of many vices.

Her biggest one? Chocolate.

Today, it started when she craved a little dessert after lunch, just to find out her fridge was empty of sweets. And her stash of chocolate. Also the secret stash in her closet as well. If the drawer Maisie hid the sweets she stole was empty too, Aelin would be lost.

Her chest got a little tighter when she reached Maisie’s room. The little girl was staying at her dad’s this weekend, and Aelin missed her sweet tooth buddy and occasional chocolate thief.

When Rowan texted last Friday night to let her know there was some unexplained chocolate in Maisie’s backpack, Aelin didn’t think her daughter would take all the sweets and leave her high and dry. But from the lack of illicit food in Maisie’s usual hiding places, it sounded like Aelin didn’t know her daughter at all.

That’s okay, she could be mature about this. She could get her car keys and go to the convenience store for more variety, or walk one block to the playground and hope she’d find something nice at the vending machine. But what she could no longer do is deny herself a woman’s greatest desire.

After putting sunscreen and her sandals on, Aelin faced the short walk to the park. That unforgiving sun burned her shoulders the entire time, and it was a relief when she noticed the trees were shading some of the benches.

There was a shift in Aelin’s mood the moment she got to the vending machine. Reese’s! The selection was good today—

Aelin jerked when she felt something poking her leg, but relaxed again when she saw it was just Maisie. Frowning.

“Hey, Mais. I didn’t see you there.”

Aelin didn’t get her usual warm greeting, though. The little girl had her Whitethorn frown on. “You didn’t say ‘hi’ when you got here.”

“Honey, I didn’t know you were here. I’m so sorry.”

Aelin’s heart twisted with guilt, but she peppered Maisie’s face with kisses until that little pout gave space to a giggle.

“I’m playing basketball with Daddy and the other big people.”

They weren’t in the playground, then. That explained why Aelin didn’t see her. She crouched down and playfully squinted her eyes at her little girl. “Well, I am here because my chocolate went missing.”

“Intwesting.” Maisie narrowed her eyes at her mother. “Because you told me there was none.”

Aelin narrowed her eyes back. It was a battle of wills now, and neither of them would give in. Forcing Maisie to admit she took Aelin’s chocolate from the secret stash would mean admitting there was a secret stash to begin with. Not an option right now.

Aelin’s shoulders dropped in resignation. She refused to fight with her five-year-old daughter over chocolate. “Anyway, I’m buying more. Want some?”

The little girl’s eyes lit up like a Yulemas tree. “Yes!”

She chuckled and let Mais pick some. Aelin hid some of her sweets just to control the kid’s sugar intake and Rowan’s complaints about it, but it’d be cruel to buy some for herself in front of her daughter and not share.

It was nice, having some mother-daughter bonding time over chocolate and gummy bears. The shaded bench they found almost made Aelin forget how hot today was.

“I’m gonna miss this candy so much.” Maisie had her eyes blissfully closed and let out a sigh of delight. “We need to go back to the candy machine.”

Yep, this kid was Aelin’s. No mistakes there.

She playfully pinched Maisie’s side, making her squeal. “What would your father think of that?”

“Nothing, because he’s not here.”

“That’s…“ genius. So accurate. Aelin’s mouth hung open for a beat. Who raised this smarty-pants? She shook the idea off her head. “nope. We can’t do that. Let’s go find your dad.”

Maisie took the remaining chocolate, but then extended her hand back to Aelin. “Do your girl pants have pockets today?”

She gave a saucy wink, making the little girl giggle. “Sure thing, hun.”

They found Rowan at the small field, playing basketball with Lorcan and a few other neighbors they weren’t exactly friends with, but were often around here on weekends too.

Rowan was playing shirtless. His ripped back flexed as he picked up Charlie so the boy could reach the hoop and score a point. Something about him shirtless and teaching little kids how to play basketball gave her a flutter in the chest, and a wildfire in lower places than she was willing to admit.

His sweaty, bronze skin was gleaming under the Doranellian sun, and the way it highlighted his six pack and pecs was absolutely maddening. Aelin’s heartbeat stopped and came back at full speed. Rowan was running, working those burly thighs and showing some side muscles she learned about in med school, but could swear were myths. Looking at him like that, Aelin felt on fire, off-balance, out of breath.

˜˜

“And what did you do?” Yrene asked.

“I didn’t stay to play, if that’s what you’re asking. You know damn well I wouldn’t be looking at the ball.”

Her therapist tried and failed to hide a chuckle. “I just don’t understand why you’re upset over this.”

“Yrene, that game was obscene. You should’ve seen the other moms ogling him.”

“Taking his shirt off was understandable, given the weather.”

Aelin decided to mimic him with one hand. “Oh, it’s me, Rowan! Look at my shiny abs as I play basketball with little kids!” She looked at his hand as if it offended her, but continued. “I just love to tease everyone in this family-oriented park!”

Yrene leaned back on her chair, head tilted. “Is that how you see his point of view?”

“Alright.” Aelin crossed her arms, looking away. “Maybe I felt personally attacked by Rowan’s abs.”

“And why’s that?”

“Do you really want me to get graphic here? Voice every thought I had?”

She snorted. “That’s up to you. I’m literally your therapist.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at her therapist. “This is all your fault.”

Knowing all of Aelin’s mechanisms or whatever shrinks call it, Yrene leaned closer to Aelin, eyes glinting with hidden amusement and hands under her chin. “How so?”

“I’ve got my therapy, family therapy, all this quality time, now Dr. Blackbeak’s finally lowering my dose of the antidepressants. Things are so much better and…” Aelin looked away and swallowed. Things were better, and the only thing getting worse was the huge lump in the throat she got as a side effect. “all of this got me thinking about how things would’ve looked like if I hadn’t left.”

”You always tell me you two were never in a relationship.”

That fact was just another reason she felt like her heart was being squeezed lately. “It’s complicated.”

”No matter what label you used, you need to remind yourself that—“

“I did my best in the situation I was given, I know,” Aelin repeated that motto in a tight tone and ran a hand through her hair. “I knew there was no coming back when I did that.”

Yrene tilted her head. ”Are you speaking for yourself? Because you can’t decide that on Rowan’s behalf.”

Aelin squinted her eyes at her therapist. “You’re onto something.”

“I’m not onto anything.” She chuckled. A schemer’s chuckle. Or just a chuckle from someone who Aelin mindlessly blamed when she was called out. Yrene continued, “You told me an obstacle, and I’m questioning if it’s real.” She checked the time on her computer screen. “And our time’s up. Same time next week?”

Aelin said her goodbyes and got up. The session’s time was up, but she knew that whatever she chose to do about these old feelings, she first had to figure out how he felt about it all.

She just needed to start with the harder part. Wonderful.

Rowan, who decided to be her therapy escort when he found out her sessions happened on his free afternoons, was sat in the waiting room, reading a book and wearing… glasses?

“What are those?” Aelin blurted.

She had asked him to go to the eye doctor a couple of months ago, but assumed he had forgotten about his promise.

Rowan jerked on the chair. “What?”

“On your face.”

“Glasses?” He took them off and studied the thing too. “I got them a while ago. Turns out they’re great for reading.”

“Huh,” was all Aelin could muster. She blinked and thanked Mala when he closed the book and didn’t put them back. Yrene had another patient now, Aelin couldn’t go back and open another Pandora box about how good he looked with rounded glasses.

“Hey.” Rowan got up and took her wrist, stroking it in circling motions with his thumb. “Did it go well?”

“Perfect.”

Aelin smiled as if she hadn’t paid good money to vent about how slutty he looked last weekend.

˜˜

It was near impossible to shut her mind off during the short drive to Maisie’s school. The hardest part is that they were going to the theater with Sellene’s daughter after. It was a play meant for children, but Aelin really wanted to be able to pay attention to The Little Mermaid tonight. A classic is a classic.

Aelin got out of the car in the packed parking lot, feeling the wind tug at her clothes. It’d take them longer than usual to leave today, considering they were taking Breanna without Sellene there. She could always trust Rowan to pick the school with the toughest security measures.

They walked side by side, children and their parents‘ chattering as their background noise. Rowan looked good with loosened shoulders and no frown in sight. He wasn’t wearing a smile—a view reserved almost exclusively for his family—but she knew his lips would tug up the second he saw Maisie.

It’d be so weird to show up six years after they last hooked up asking how he felt about her. Especially when they’d still talk to each other the other day. She needed to listen to the signs before acting, but it was so hard sometimes.

Rowan was a practical person. He could’ve decided to accompany her to therapy because it was close to Maisie’s school and they’d both need to go there after. His decision could be motivated by an undying love for the mother of his child, or something as romantic as reducing carbon monoxide emissions. And Rowan did care about carbon monoxide. He said so the night they met.

Even if he really cared about her, she was the other half of his little broken family. Wishing her well was no indication of romantic feelings.

Aelin shoved her thoughts aside when she saw Maisie and Bree coming her way, and crouched for the crushing hug that was coming. Those small bodies combined almost knocked her down on the floor, but Aelin wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Mommy!” Maisie yelled, “Did you know Bree’s never been to the Peter?”

“The theater, Mais,” Rowan corrected around a chuckle.

Aelin caressed the girl’s pale blonde hair. “Is that right, Bree?”

She gave a shy nod, making her smile. Holy rutting Mala, those strong Whitethorn genes. When they were side-by-side and wearing the same uniform like this, Sellene’s daughter looked like Maisie’s shy twin.

“You’re gonna love the Peter, Bree!” Her daughter yelled and flailed her arms around, filled with excitement. “The screen has a huge hole where the people go.”

“Calm down, you two.” Rowan playfully tugged at Maisie’s pigtails. “The play is just next week.”

“No, it’s not.” Aelin turned to Rowan and tilted her head. “I checked the tickets this morning. It’s definitely today.”

“Aelin, she can’t go.” He lowered his voice. “Her flu shot, remember?”

“Are you talking about the flu shot she got last week?”

“This one exactly.” He crossed his arms, giving her a hard look. “It has a two-week immunity window—“

Aelin mirrored his expression, feeling her muscles tighten. “I’m a doctor, I’m aware—“

“And I’m not putting Maisie in a theater with hundreds of kids without being sure that—“

“I want to see Ariel!” The little girl’s wail interrupted them. Her face was reddened already and filled with tears, and Breanna was on her side, whispering anything a five-year-old deemed soothing.

“We are.” She gave Rowan a hard look and crouched next to Maisie, caressing the little girl’s head. ”That’s just your father being your father. He’s been careful like that with you since you were inside my belly, did you know that?”

Maisie shook her head and sniffed. Well, that was on Aelin. She didn’t talk much about the time she was pregnant, but she’d do anything to make her little girl smile.

“Do you know what I’d call him back then?” A pause to spark Maisie’s interest. “A Buzzard.”

“Like the bird?”

“You’re right.“ With her index finger, Aelin mimicked the animal with sweeping movements around Maisie’s head. “That bird that keeps flying close by, watching you all the time.”

Aelin watched her daughter expectantly, waiting until her brain made the right connections. Maisie perked up a beat later, her pine-green eyes slowly widening.

“That’s Daddy!” She turned to her father, pointed a finger at him and shouted, “Buzzard!”

Aelin was chuckling at Maisie’s newfound source of excitement, trying to bury the weight in her chest, when she saw Rowan’s face. He didn’t say a word, just let Maisie repeat the nickname over and over around him as he vacantly stared at Aelin. Her face faltered. He swallowed, and his gaze on her was so intense she looked away.

That was so tone-deaf of her, and Rowan clearly didn’t like it. Just because Aelin was reminiscing these days, didn’t mean he wanted that too.

“Come on, Bree.” Aelin tugged on the girl’s hand. “Let’s see how long it takes before your teacher lets you leave without your mom here.”

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[lovelyboytears]

are there particular ways you like to tie your boy up? or any preferences on the ones about to list? to be honest this is mostly so i can yap about bondage.

theres the classic spread eagle: you can edge him to your hearts content, leave marks where ever you like, kiss him from head to toe, ride his face, leave him exposed and use the unrestricted view of him to get yourself off, grind on any part of him you want, ride him until he's shooting blanks into you, fuck his ass until his cum is pooling on his stomach and splattered along his chest,feel him quiver under your hands as you grope and tease every inch of him. What ever you want to do and all he does is lay down and take it. its not like he could stop you. it's not like he'd want to stop you.

closely related but still distinct is tied to a chair. its similar in that he is still completely passive (or helpless depending on how you want to put it) but it provides a few different options than before. you can see each other much better so if you felt like giving him a display he'd get a much better view and is able to take it all in as you stand over him. Similarly he is on much clearer display to you. you can be certain he is looking right where you want him to whether that be your eyes or somewhere else, and any blushing is very evident, but then again so is every other reaction. if anything comes out of his tear ducts, his mouth, or his tip gravity will help you see just what an effect you're having on your good boy. sitting up is also better for kissing and makes riding him much more intimate. the whole sitting on something part does get in the way of being able to fuck him but it does mean anything you put in him before hand will sit snug and deep inside no matter if it is a vibrator or a plug or your own strap aslong as it has a flared base for safety. a remote control vibe especially can pair well with a blowjob which this is also well suited for. less absolute forms of bondage of course let your sub still do some things while blocking off others. for example tying your boys hands behind his back makes it so the focus is what he can do with other things. i guarantee if you get your boy horny enough and tie his hands behind his back without any further prompting he will find something to hump and grind against. im sure he'll look cute and pathetic doing it to trying to keep balance and not completely lose focus to the pleasure. not gonna lie I came while i was typing that out and am now running out of steam so you're getting an abriged version for the rest. tying up his hands can also lead to situations like his dick throbbing between his widespread knees while you push his face inbetween your legs and he can just focus on giving you pleasure instead of pleasuring himself. tying up his legs still makes him pinned down for you to toy with but lets him to touch you or himself like holding you close while you fuck him or gripping the sheets or it just lets you pin his hands yourself for the extra layer to the dynamic Ok that's all i got for now i hoped you enjoyed goddess : )

hehe, such an adorable slut, cumming just from writing me an ask! i can't help but fawn over you when you work so hard!!

as far as my preference goes, i think boys look prettiest....

on their knees with their hands cuffed and suspended above their heads, a spreader between their ankles, collared and leashed!

[lavenoon]

So... We know Eclipse doesn't exactly do formal wear, but say he had to for something.

Would he be okay in a suit? Or would he absolutely despise it? What would he wear if he got to choose? (I imagine Sun wouldn't exactly approve, but he is also a peacock so... XDD)

So Eclipse can wear a suit - but if he got to chose for himself, he'd always pick the more comfy options. Slacks, dress shoes, turtleneck and suspenders - the latter at least a decent stim toy for when everything else might be frowned upon

If, for some reason, he had to wear a proper suit (like Sun finally snapping and just blocking the doorway, preventing him from leaving like that) he would do that with just a minor hissy fit. He doesn't like how restrictive the dress shirts and jackets are, especially when you have four arms, and would prefer going without them, but if necessary he can manage for a couple hours. He does insist on at least a pastel colored shirt though, if his suit can't be fully pastel! (Sun does accept that, because Mr. Red Suit has no room to talk, and it's still better than the "Eclipse, please wear a tie for this" "Okay!" *wears a tie to the turtleneck* event. Sun is glad he doesn't sleep because he'd have nightmares about that still)

[francesminos-tt]

Joffy is the captain of the football team and Daeron is a serious and renowned lawyer, they hate each other.

But somehow that doesn't stop them from having sex.

optional tags: odaxelagnia, rough sex, rimming.

My bad habit is trying to build up the world even though it’s just smut.

Today was the first day Joffrey went back to the football field. He had been wrongly suspended for the rest of the season by a complete misunderstanding, but he managed to appeal his case to the National Football Committee, getting back to the field after only three months. However, three months suspension was still a long time, especially for a rising star like Joffrey.

Joffrey Velaryon was Harrenhal FC’s youngest captain in the last three decades. This record was formerly held by his biological father, Harwin Strong, who made it to the captain at the age of 23. Joffrey was made captain at 22, just one year after he had made his professional debut. He was a talented forward player, quick, agile and very skillful at free kicks. He had scored a warping 20 goals in the last season, winning himself the newcomer of the year.

However, just when everyone expected Joffrey to lead Harrenhal to the realm’s cup, he was suspended for getting into a bar fight and injuring four people. The scandal was the biggest gossip on social media for months.

Golden Boy Proved To Be A Violent Hater!

Is Joffrey Velaryon Homophobic?

The LGBTQ+ Society Cancels Joff the Jork

The Westeros Football Committee and The Riverlands League says they will not tolerate violence and hate crime

Joffrey wanted to spit on those damn reporters’ faces, but he couldn't afford to cause any more troubles now. His mother had called the crisis management team, led by none other than the person he hated the most in this world. His serious, renowned, highly competent lawyer uncle Daeron, who Joffrey hated with passion.

“Fractured ribs, concussion, broken legs and snapped fingers,” Daeron read aloud the medical reports of those who were hospitalized by Joffrey, “very impressive, nephew. Are you sure you want to continue your football career? I think you will do better in wrestling, since you prefer to speak with your fists rather than with your mouth.”

See? He had to laugh at Joffrey any chance he got. Daeron had always been like this, looking down upon Joffrey just because Joff didn't go to university. Daeron always treated Joffrey as if he was some kind of savage. Joffrey hated the blonde man for it. He might depend on his physical strength to make a living, but it didn't mean he was an imbecile.

“If you are here to mock me, just fucking leave.” Joffrey rolled his eyes and tried to turn his head away, but the slightest movement sent a sharp pain down his neck. Fuck, he nearly forgot he had a concussion too.

“No, I am here to help you, dear Joff. Mocking is just for my own entertainment.” Daeron chuckled, sitting down at the edge of Joffrey’s hospital bed, “I need your full cooperation to appeal the case. How about you stop throwing me death glares?”

“What do you want?” Joffrey asked through gritted teeth.

“Firstly, I need a complete and honest statement.” Daeron replied, pulling out a recording pen from his pocket, “Why did you beat these people up?”

“They were assholes.” Joffrey said.

“I need more details than that.” Daeron continued, not at all annoyed, “I know you don't beat people up just because they are assholes.”

“Yeah? All the media seems to believe so.” Joffrey scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“No, you are not.” Daeron said so seriously that for a moment, Joffrey was actually moved by the blonde’s words. However, any good feeling Joffrey had for Daeron quickly disappeared when the blonde added, “If so, I would be beaten to death by you a long time ago.”

“Asshole.” Joffrey spat.

“Exactly.” Daeron had the audacity to smile, “You might have put wasabi in my birthday cake before, but you never beat me. So, tell me, Joffrey, what did these people say or do that made you so angry?”

Joffrey bit his lower lip and went silent. Firstly, he didn't want to tell Daeron why he had gone to a gay bar. Secondly, he was reluctant to admit that he had beaten those people up because they insulted Joffrey’s family and called him a pervert.

“I can’t help you if you don't talk, Joff.” Daeron said, but he seemed patient. He was always composed and calm, while Joffrey was often described as a hot-tempered jork.

“What difference will it make if I tell you? I am already suspended. The damage is done. I don't want to go through the humiliation again.” Joffrey said after a long pause.

“Your mother called me, Joffrey. She doesn't believe a single word on social media. She swore that her baby boy did it for a reason. She wants to appeal your case so bad that she’s willing to beg my mother to let me help you. Do you want her effort to be all for naught?” Daeron asked after switching off the recording pen, “So let me ask you again. What made you start a fight in a gay bar? I will switch on the recording again after you are ready.”

The last thing Joffrey wanted was to hurt his mother. Hell, he started the fight to defend her name. He considered for a moment before nodding, indicating Daeron to resume recording.

“Go ahead.”

“They insulted my mother and called her a hypocrite for marrying a gay man.” Joffrey said, his anger slowly building by just recalling the words, “They called me a pervert and…”

“And?”

Joffrey reached out to switch off the recording again.

“I don't deserve their cock.” Joffrey finished, casting his eyes down. He was sure Daeron could understand the hidden meaning in his words.

Joffrey didn’t go to a gay bar to pick up fights. He went to a gay bar like anyone else, to hang out and hopefully get laid. In the sports world, sexual orientation was still a ‘don’t say, don’t ask’ topic. Joffrey hadn’t get laid since he broke up with his boyfriend, and he was desperate. He didn't want to jerk off in his flat like a miserable 14-year-old anymore, so he went out to have some fun. He should have stayed inside. See what his horny got him.

“All right.” Daeron said, “I already have some idea about appealing your case. I need some time to work things out, and in the meantime, you stay put and do not get into trouble again.”

“How could I?” Joffrey snorted, “Look. I am confined to the hospital bed. I think a prisoner has more freedom than me.”

“Be good, Joffrey.” Daeron stood up and headed for the door, “Think about how you can thank me after I get you on the field again.”

“You are just going to help me like that?” Joffrey asked to Daeron’s back, “I thought you hated me.”

“Maybe.” Daeron half-turned and flashed Joffrey a smile, “But I want to see you owe me one so bad. I look forward to your thank-you gift, nephew.”

“Get out.” Joffrey managed between ragged breaths, “My ass is going to split.”

Daeron didn’t answer, for he was busy burying his teeth in Joffrey’s shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. Joffrey hissed as a sharp pain spread from where Daeron’s teeth embedded in his flesh. Joffrey didn’t know which hurt more, his shoulder, or his hole that was stretched to the limit by Daeron’s cock.

Joffrey had no idea how they ended up like this. Today’s game ended with a draw, and Joffrey managed to give two assists, one of them resulting in a goal, which was not a bad performance for someone who hadn’t played for month. The team’s manager drove him home personally, to make sure Joffrey didn’t get into trouble again. When he came out of the sedan, Joffrey found Daeron’s sportscar on his driveway.

It seemed that Daeron was here to collect his reward, or thank-you gift, as the blonde insisted on calling it. Joffrey would never have guessed that Daeron wanted sex as a reward. They had only fucked like what, five times at most? Or ten? Maybe a dozen? Twenty?

“You should have called me.” Daeron murmured to Joffrey’s nape, licking the wound he had just inflicted on the brunette’s skin, “I will fuck you so hard that you won’t be able to sit for a whole damn week. Are you really going to let some stranger from the bar fuck you?”

Joffrey tried to answer, but Daeron took the opportunity to thrust into him, the tip of Daeron’s cock brushing against his good spot, sending a rush of pleasure up his spine. Joffrey moaned and clenched his hole unconsciously.

“Answer me!” Daeron raised his voice, one arm wrapped around Joffrey’s waist, the other pulling the brunette’s hair, “Do you crave cock so much that any one will work?”

“You weren’t here!” Joffrey retorted, his eyes glistening with tears but his tone was full of hatred, “We are just fuck buddies. Do you expect me to keep pure for you, huh? I am not some innocent chick who will wear a purity ring for you.”

Daeron pulled Joffrey’s hair harder, forcing the brunette to exposing his vulnerable neck. Joffrey hissed in pain, but Daeron gave him no time to adjust. Daeron bit hard on the thin skin of Joffrey’s neck, just beside the brunette’s arteries. Daeron tasted blood on his tongue, the sweet and metallic taste made his very being sing with euphoria. He was a vampire when it came to Joffrey. His gum would actually ache whenever he laid eyes on Joffrey. He wanted to bite into the softness of Joffrey’s inner thigh, the hard muscle of Joffrey’s stomach, the juicy flesh of Joffrey’s ass, Joffrey’s arm, neck, chest, fingers, toes, and even the brunette’s cock. He wanted to devour them all.

Joffrey hissed, grunted and moaned, but he was unable to shake Daeron off. The blonde was like a persistent alien, determined to feed on Joffrey’s flesh, blood, and bones.

“Get off me, damn it!” Joffrey cursed, “I told you not to leave a mark.”

Daeron finally lifted his head from Joffrey’s neck, his lips and teeth stained with Joffrey’s blood, the usual calm and collected lawyer replaced by a lustful beast.

“I never promised I would follow your orders.” Daeron said, sneaking his hand down to grab Joffrey’s sagging cock, “You are not hard yet. Do I not please you, nephew?”

Joffrey knew the damn bastard was calling him nephew on purpose, reminding him just how wrong the whole thing was. They were related. They were both men. They hated each other. But why couldn't they stop fucking?

Daeron began to pump Joffrey’s cock while rocking his hips forward, thrusting into Joffrey’s ass without mercy. He thrust so hard that the lube he used earlier was squeezed out of Joffrey’s hole, as the nasty sound of his balls hitting Joffrey’s ass echoed the room. Daeron felt the brunette’s cock grew harder in his hand, sticky pre-cum dripping from the pink tip to his fingers.

Joffrey let out a muffled groan, arching his back and clenching his hole as pleasure took over him. He was in pain. His cock was ready to explode at any moment, the bloody bite marks on his neck and shoulder hurt like hell, his hole sore from taking Daeron’s cock for so long, and his hair was being pulled so hard that he felt his scalp was going to peel off. Everything hurt, but the worst of all, he was so fucking aroused by the pain.

“You are squeezing my cock so hard with your lusty hole, Joff.” Daeron bit Joffrey’s earlobe before licking off the small beads of blood oozing from the teeth-shaped wound, “Are you going to come?”

Yes, yes, he was going to come. He wanted release, so fucking bad.

“Fuck yes.” Joffrey murmured.

“I need you to promise me one thing.” Daeron whispered in Joffrey’s ear, running his finger down the brunette’s shaft.

“Anything!” Joffrey was going insane by the blonde’s teasing, “Anything you say, uncle. Just let me come!”

Daeron said something, but Joffrey couldn't hear a word as a wave of pleasure overwhelmed him. His stomach tightened, his toes curling from pleasure, his skin tingling with unspoken euphoria, as he came in Daeron’s hand. Joffrey’s vision went dark for a moment before he regained his senses.

“Good boy.” Daeron was planting kisses on Joffrey’s ear when the brunette could hear again, “I expect you to keep your promises.”

Joffrey hummed. He had no idea what Daeron had made him agree, but he wasn’t going to find out. Not now, anyway. He would rather cuddle in bed and maybe have a second round after he could feel his ass again. He was sure the promise was nothing. Probably some boring rivalry stuff, or Daeron was asking him for sexual favor. Either way, Joffrey wasn’t opposed to the idea.

Joffrey closed his eyes and began to doze off, with his ass filled with hot, sticky semen.

If you decide to be a whore, be my whore instead.

[cadybear420]

Cadybear's MC Wardrobes: Alan Parke, OG HSS Book 1. Featuring some edits by me!

How this series goes: With each book, for a MC I'm invested in, I'll assess each of their in-game outfits. How much do I like or dislike the outfit? Is this something that suits my MC's style, or does it make me go "My MC would NOT wear/own this"? And for the outfits that my MC would not wear or own, how would I alter or replace them? I'm not going to use screenshots from the actual game because I can't be arsed. Also I want to use the different sprite expressions to express how my MC would feel about each outfit.

I like to think this is a good opportunity to elaborate on my MCs' dress styles, and show off some edits :D

Now we'll be doing my second OG HSS MC, Alan Parke! Let's see how well the Book 1 outfits suit him!

Directory for the other parts will be included in the reblogs after I've completed the posts for all books!

(Disclaimer: The hairstyle I use for Alan is not actually available until book 2. I'm using it in the book 1 screenshot replications and edits because I don't give a fuck, it should be available.)

Ch 1: "Sleep Tight" Pajamas

They're alright, but I don't think they're quite Alan's style.

Verdict: Alan would not own this. Replace/alter.

Here's what his pajamas would look more like.

Ch 1: "I Work Out", "Classroom Chill", "Just My Stripe", "Mr. Cool", and "Funny Man" Starter Outfits

Of the five starter outfit options, the "I Work Out" one is the only one I think Alan would like. It's light, comfy, and suits his athletic side. Hence I'm using it as his in-game fall casual outfit.

He wouldn't like the cargo pants though. And even then, he'd far prefer a particular outfit from the f!MC wardrobe.

The other outfits are just okay. He might like the jacket and shirt from "Classroom Chill" but probably wouldn't wear them together.

Verdict: Alan would only own the blue sweatshirt, the blazer jacket, and the shirt with the default names of previous customizable MCs. Alter the blue sweatshirt by replacing the cargo pants, and ditch the rest of the outfits/pieces. Use said outfit as default fall casual outfit, but one of the f!MC outfits (with some addition of this outfit) will be his official fall casual outfit.

Here's what he'd prefer as a fall casual outfit, this premium outfit from the f!MC's wardrobe. Plus a variant with the blue sweatshirt over top. Plus a variant of the blue sweatshirt outfit but with leggings, for a more fully athletic look. Plus a variant of the flower top with leggings.

Ch 2: "Party On" Premium Outfit for Brian's Pool Party

This outfit isn't bad but like... OMG, it's way too plain to be a "win points with friends and LIs" premium outfit, let alone part of Alan's wardrobe.

Seriously, I bought this one to see what would happen, and I for the life of me can not suspend my disbelief for how so many of the characters absolutely fawn over this. IT IS A PLAIN BEACH SHIRT WITH PLAIN BOARD SHORTS.

I mean sure, I headcanon Evie might wear this to look good at the party, but even then I don't think so many people would be absolutely fawning over it as if it's a frilly white short top with short shorts. Y'know, the f!MC's version of this! Yeah, the bonus dialogue for this premium outfit is so blatantly coded for f!MC's outfit, and unfortunately this is gonna be a very common theme with a lot of m!MC outfits. Do people actually act like that over a guy wearing a plain beach shirt with plain board shorts?

Verdict: Alan would not own this. Replace entirely.

Here's what he'd actually prefer to wear. Evie would prefer to wear the m!MC's version and Alan would prefer to wear the f!MC's version.

Ch 2: Swimsuit

The pattern is okay, but Alan deserves better than swim trunks.

Verdict: Alan would NOT own this. Replace entirely.

Here's what his swimsuit would actually look like, plus an alternate one for later on in the timeline.

Ch 6: Cheerleader Uniform

It looks fine, but he'd prefer the female outfit with the tiny skirt.

Verdict: Technically not in Alan's wardrobe because you have to return uniforms, but either way, Alan would not quite wear this. Alter by replacing the pants with skirt and shortening the top.

Here's the uniform he'd prefer to wear. Plus a bow, because he deserves it <3

BONUS ROUND: Ch 6: Football Unform

Alan isn't into football and the uniform isn't his favorite, but he'd find a way to rock it.

Verdict: Technically not in Alan's wardrobe because you have to return uniforms, but he might enjoy wearing it. Keep it as is.

BONUS ROUND: Ch 6: Marching Band Uniform

Not sure he'd be into band, and it's not quite his style, but he might enjoy strutting around in it.

Verdict: Technically not in Alan's wardrobe because you have to return uniforms, but he might enjoy wearing it. Keep it as is.

Ch 9: "Eye of the Tiger" and "Hear My Roar" Premium Tiger Mascot Suits for the pep rally

While he'd probably prefer to do the pep rally in his cheer uniform, he'd also have quite a bit of fun wearing a tiger costume. He'd probably go with the white one.

Verdict: Keep both outfits as they are, but Alan would pick the white one.

Ch 11: "Varsity Greens" Premium Disguise for sneaking into Hearst

He'd definitely be more willing than Evie is to disguise himself (even if he's the only one doing it)... but he'd far prefer to disguise himself as a cheerleader. Though I will say, Max swooning over m!MC's muscles thinking he's a Hearst jock is absolutely iconic.

Verdict: Alan would disguise himself, but he would not wear this as the disguise. Replace entirely.

Here's what he'd far prefer to wear as a disguise.

Ch 12: "Team Berry" Premium Outfit for the Homecoming Parade

Love the top, but Alan would not want the cargo pants. Let him wear short shorts like the f!MC got.

Once again of course, buying this outfit is the only way to get that yearbook photo with her and Aiden waving from Ms. Maddox's car, and the photo itself is still enjoyable. But still.

Verdict: Only partly in Alan's wardrobe. Alter by replacing the pants.

Here's what the outfit would look like with Alan's actual preferred style of shorts/pants.

Ch 14: "The Classic", "All That Glitters", and "Semiformal-ish" Homecoming Outfits

Of these three, the only one he'd really like is the gold waistcoat outfit. Even then, he'd far prefer a dress.

Verdict: The only one of these that Alan might own is the waistcoat outfit. Even then, replace it entirely.

Here's a dress that's more in Alan's style. While I'd normally have used the boutonniere from the outfit I liked the most, the one from the tux outfit is a literal match with the corsage that Emma wears, so I used that.

[raenavolante]

Some Velvet facts:

-he’s the youngest of (at least) three siblings

-he’s 5”10.5 but rounds up to 5”11

-he prefers cameras to be mirrored

-his brother and sister-in-law live in Virginia, so back when ant lived there they’d drive over to visit

-he went to a private Christian school and got in a lot of trouble there

-iirc he was suspended at least once for a ‘lick me’ sticky note

-MAJORRR theater kid

-started as a theatre major, swapped to stats major, then dropped out

-had a 4.0 gpa and was always really smart

-watches political videos from both left and right wings regularly

-is currently banned on reddit (he is missed dearly)

-he’s actually a pretty quiet person when he’s not making a joke

-he has glasses he never wears. I’ve tried to hint he should show us to no success

-ant says he looks cute in his glasses

-his sister has a cat (cous-cous)that him and ant have babysat before

-he’s very cuddly with all 3 of his pets

-he’s been high at least once during ppsat

-he respects bbh a lot, and they talk often off stream

-he hardcore repressed the Gay in school

-ant is his first relationship (unless you count a fourth grade gf)

-owns a red car

-gets very passionate about things he’s interested in (taco bell, hearthstone, politics, etc)

-he always asks chat questions and waits for us to answer

-he’s not overly tech-saavy (ant has had to rescue his stream a few times)

-he didn’t like dream much when they first met

-he’s not as experienced in the kitchen as ant, but often brings ant dinner if he is busy streaming

-he is not afraid to shout things like “penis” out in public

-he doesn’t watch twitch very often

-unironically hole in the wall is his favourite mcc game

-his birthday is one day before Valentines

-he uses light mode on everything

-he only has one monitor

-regrets a lot of what he did in middle/high school

-he occasionally refers to ant as “my antfrost” which is very sweet

-is very aware of the velvet-egg dsmp theory. He’s encouraged it and implied it’s canon despite not being on the server

-does voices while reading fanfic

-went camping a lot as a kid (and still does)

-despite all his joking, he’s very sweet and soft about his love for ant

-he and ant have mentioned having kids in the future

-he did plenty of research to learn about celiac and ants allergies, he even has an app that lets you know if a restaurant has gluten-free options

-he has some eco-jars as well as some fish

-the pets prefer velvet over ant

-he does a scary accurate trump impression

-keeps a comb on his desk

-he is very appreciative of his community despite not really knowing why we stick around

-he actually doesn’t like red velvet cake that much

-he hates mashed potatoes

-had a dog named Calvin most of his life (rest in peace)

-he always uses chat members full usernames, no matter how often he reads our messages

-he’s an introvert

-he’s excited to marry ant one day

[bluegekk0]

Manifesting the biggest hug for you. I don’t know if you’re still having a hard time, but just in case, I’m going to offer some words of encouragement. I’m not the best at this sort of thing, but imma try. Just know this: everyone who’s stuck around for this long adores you and what you contribute to the Hollow Knight fandom. We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t. You’re loved and appreciated, and while we are simply the gay little people on the other side of the screen or even the other side of the world, we’re here to back you up and support you in whatever you do.

What was the design process behind the modern clothes for the FPK family? Lewk in his onesie is absolutely adorable. Holdable. I’d love to know how you arrived at each fit! They all look amazing!

;; thank you so much, this really means a lot to hear. i really do appreciate everyone who's here to support my silly little au, and words like these really brighten up my mood. thank you

---

as for the question, i think it all mostly came down to finding combinations of clothes that would fit their personalities. in general, most of them prefer comfortable clothes, so that's why you see a lot of loose shirts and pants. also, most of them have buttons or zippers on their clothes, primarily because it would be difficult for them to squeeze their large heads with all kinds of horns and spikes into a regular tshirts or other clothes like that

i'll start in the order they appeared on the drawing, so that means lewk is the first one. i had a lot of trouble with his outfit due to his wings. they connect to his body all the way from the shoulders to the tail, and that significantly limits clothing options. i couldn't give him pants with a built in tail sleeve or a band extension/back hook, like i did with fpk, since the wings would get in the way. similarly, the top part of his outfit was just as problematic, especially since pants were out of the equation. so instead, i chose a zipped onesie with a tail sleeve, and two long slit type sleeves for the wings. and i'm very glad i did, not only does it fit the fact that he's the kid of the family, but it also makes him look really adorable hahah

as for grimm, i knew from the start that i wanted him to wear a loose, half unbuttoned shirt. it's just what he's like, he's the flirtatious type, of course he's going to go for this kind of look. i imagine he'd wear suits quite often, but since this is what their everyday clothes are like, he instead opts for something more comfortable. not sweatpants kind of comfortable, that's not his style, but still relatively loose. comfortable, but stylish. that's what he aims for

for fpk, it had to be something that would make you go "yeah, he's an awkward nerd". my friend suggested suspenders, and my mind immediately went to the 11th doctor. and so that was my man inspiration, particularly for the colors. naturally i left out the bowtie, cause that would be too on the nose, but the colors are very similar to one of his outfits. as for his pants, they include a tail sleeve with buttons at the top

(something like this)

now, holly. i knew they would like very comfortable clothes, so i went with a loose shirt and sweatpants. i also knew i wanted the sleeves to be quite wide, so that they have no trouble putting it on with their prosthetic arm on (since it has the junk aesthetic as opposed to a more sleek and modern look, it has a lot of parts that would inevitably get in the way). and, of course, the shirt is buttoned. there's no way they would fit that giant head into a button-less top hahaha. as for the colors, i wanted to keep the green of their regular cloak, so i went with greenish brown pants and a light shirt to give it a nice contrast

hornet is definitely a bit of an outlier. she's a bit of an angsty teenager personality on the au, she's never really matured past that point, so this kind of outfit fits her. she's a bit of a skater type i imagine, she would without a doubt shred it on a skateboard. additionally, i always saw her as someone who would dislike feminine clothes and aesthetic. mostly just a personal preference, but she has a reason to. the white lady and her weren't very close, but she would still try to force hornet into more elegant and royal clothes, usually fancy (and uncomfortable) dresses. not surprising that she ended up hating anything that even resembles a dress, and why she was very insistent on calling her previous outfit a cloak as opposed to a dress. it also explains why her new outfit looks the way it is, and i wanted to reflect that in her modern clothes as well. plus i think it just really fits her personality haha

zote was a bit troublesome. i wasn't exactly sure what kind of clothes he would wear, it's hard to imagine him in anything else than his purple cloak. i wanted to find something that would give the impression of a "wannabe cool guy who gets bullied a lot", and somehow ended up with this sans-esque fit. not complaining, i think it suits him lmfao

also, both hornet and zote have shoes. it's something that's also present in their regular designs. as for the reason why, i'm not sure. part of it is probably because i don't know what their feet would look like (for hornet, i imagine it's a mix between fpk's cat-like feet and something closer to spider feet, but i have no clue about zote), but i think it also fits their outfits. who knows, maybe their feet are just more sensitive than the rest hahaha

[in-silks-and-flesh-and-leather]

[Starship Icarus]

Summary: 65 x Passengers (2016). Due to an errant power surge and a malfunctioning pod, Mills is accidentally awoken nine decades too early en route for the exploratory mission to Homestead II. After undergoing all the stages of grief alone, he nearly loses his mind and takes his own life once he has exhausted all his options for rescue. In the depths of his solitude and desperation, he does the unthinkable. He awakens another passenger.

Word count: ~2.7k

*

Floating serenely through the undisturbed, sepulchral quiet of deep space, Starship Icarus glided on as asteroids hurtled by, supernovas exploded in the distance, and space and time hung suspended in unknowable endlessness. To contemplate such conditions for too long was a fast ticket to madness. Space dementia, as sci-fi authors of old dubbed it. Luckily for the passengers of the Icarus, no one was awake to contemplate anything and lose their mind in far flung corners of the cosmos.

No one was there to hear the sound. So perhaps there wasn’t any sound at all, the Buddhists would ponder. Perhaps even the low rumble that ominously shook the panels of the ship was not there either, as all five thousand passengers were asleep, dead to the world - and beyond, when it occurred. The machines aboard the ship dispassionately set about repairing the damage, employing failsafes and established protocols.

*

Starship Icarus set out on its exploratory mission to Homestead II on schedule. Minor last minute repairs took place, but no one was particularly surprised by that. The first manned mission to an Earth-like planet whose distance exceeded a century one-way was bound to run into some hiccups along the way. More significant than repairs to the ship itself were changes to the crew and passenger lists that happened in the run up to launch day. Although all crew members had undergone decades of training and all passengers were screened extensively, subjected to all manner of psychological and physical testing, as well as a series of simulations in preparation for the voyage, some wished to renege and back out at the last moment. When leaving all they ever knew became startlingly real. The prospect of sleeping for one hundred and twenty years. Of waking up on Homestead II and hoping it was the promised land the space exploration company claimed it was. Working for an indeterminate number of years, collecting samples, testing, exploring, charting. Then going back, effectively putting life on hold for two and a half centuries, hoping that two 120-year long bouts of hibernation were as harmless as they were assured, and then resuming whatever would be left of life more than two centuries on from the moment they departed. Would there be any surviving family? Would there be an Earth to return to at all? How different would the late twenty third century be from the early twenty first? The 1770s were certainly a little different from the 2020s…

It was easy to view it as an abstract adventure, even as one said their goodbyes, did G-Force testing, submerged themselves in sensory deprivation tanks and wrote goodbye letters. Most recorded videos, actually. Mills preferred letters. Those always seemed more real. But the now-or-never of making their way on a journey into outer space made it all hit home. Several people broke down and had to be separated from the group. Mills didn’t know what was done with them in the meantime, but the voyage proceeded to plan. He had to assume they had worked out their differences.

Before everything faded, Mills, like all other passengers, listened to the only-slightly-uncanny mechanic voice of the travel companion explain the procedure that was about to take place. Putting him under and transporting him though unimaginable distances to Homestead II. The last conscious thought he had was that the planet name sounded to him like a portmanteau of ‘home’ and ‘instead’, like they were escaping their dreary lives and looking for better options.

*

The impact of the asteroid sent shockwaves through the Icarus. Deep in its machinery, circuitry was damaged and major systems went down. Others took on their load in mere blinks of an eye, before the dying segments even had a chance to hiss and fizz out. High up on the surface, a few lights flickered and one pod sighed to life.

Mills’ pod filled with a soft light and set about the task of bringing him out of stasis. His body was released from suspension, thumping softly on the white ridges of his bed. Stage One commenced with the first post-stasis injection. His chest expanded as if from the blast of a defibrillator and he slumped back down. Mills’ lips parted and sucked in their first rattling breath in over thirty years. For a few more minutes, as he swam towards consciousness from the deep waters of oblivion, machines tracked his vitals. Then they withdrew and the pod tilted, opening in segments around him.

His screen rose into view and he started blinking, the light still harsh on his long-disused eyes. The sound of the system booting up was familiar from the hundreds of test runs done back on Earth. The travel companion greeted him and assured his groggy state was perfectly normal after more than a century in stasis.

“Where am I?” Mills croaked, frowning as his eyes watered. His arms felt heavy as he rose a hand to rub the tears away. His vision was still blurry and the voice explaining his condition sounded like it was under water.

“You’re aboard the Starship Icarus, the Homestead Company’s premier interstellar liner. We have nearly completed the voyage from Earth to Homestead II, where you begin your exploratory mission. Homestead II is the second planet outside Earth’s solar system to be colonized and the first in the Bhakti system to be explored,” she launched into the brochure pitch of Homestead II and Mills tuned out. His eyes flickered from the screen to his left and right, down long corridors, barely illuminated and empty, as his pod wheeled him to the door.

“…the Icarus is on final approach. For the next four months, you’ll enjoy space travel at its most luxurious,” the voice went on and Mills became uncannily aware of his stiff facial muscles as he tried to smirk. The meatiest part of the pitch. The gold-class passengers, sure, maybe those would enjoy the utmost luxuries. He was on board because of his ‘useful profession’ as an engineer and mechanic. Had he been part of the crew, in his role as Commander and Pilot… His thoughts were still lethargic and fuzzy. He was in no condition to bitterly ponder the politics of setting up these sorts of missions. At the end of the day, he was on board and that was what mattered.

“…let’s get you to your cabin where you can get some rest.”

The screen folded away and he stepped down, rolling his weight from his heels to his toes experimentally. He would have expected the floor to be cool on his bare feet, but it was pleasantly warm. Panels in the floor shone ahead of him, tossing proverbial breadcrumbs to show him his path. Mills padded down the tubular corridor and rubbed his temples as a headache started to throb right in the between them.

“You may be experiencing post-hibernation sickness,” a different voice from the travel companion told him. No shit, he gritted his teeth. A hundred or so years will give you such a crick in the neck. His door illuminated and he entered his cabin. It looked somewhat barebones. Like a little bit of shithole, if he was being honest. The kind of shoebox you live in during college, with a bed that folds into the wall and drab décor you are not allowed to change. Everything was a muted creamy color that looked dimensionless. Storage compartments lined the wall over his cot, like overhead luggage compartments on a plane. He hadn’t really considered he would be spending four months feeling like he was on a flight with some shitty airline. The bathroom was equally cramped, but he had to give them some leeway on that. He was huge. All his life, he had to enter most doors sideways, wear a pair of jeans until they fell apart if they managed to be long enough not to give off the impression of capri pants on him, and he banged his head on every hanging light fixture in his vicinity.

He had pre-selected a lot of things prior to his voyage, from the furniture for his cabin to the different outfits he would wear on the Icarus and on Homestead II. As he looked around, his travel companion spoke.

“Welcome to your cabin, your home until we make landfall. Over the next four months, you will prepare for your life on Homestead II. Meet your fellow passengers, take skill building classes, and learn about colonial living. You’ve been assigned to learning group 65, for passengers with engineering and technical trade skills.”

He yawned, long and hard, and his ears popped. “Please, scan your ID to confirm luggage delivery.” A panel in the wall opened and revealed a silver suitcase. He looked at it and padded over, but another yawn made him stop and roll his shoulders sleepily. The voice prompted him again and he looked from his left to his right wrist, looking for his cuff.  He pressed the metal plate of the cuff into the floating blue sphere that indicated where to confirm and heard the chirp of a successfully completed operation. A water dispenser in the corner burbled to life.

“To help you recover from hibernation, be sure to drink plenty of fluids.”

“Well, I tried drinking solids before and it didn’t work out too good,” he groaned as another yawn almost split his jaw at the hinge. His vision seemed to gradually come into focus, but it was blurring now again from the overwhelming need to sleep. He picked up the cup of pinkish liquid that didn’t look too inviting, but he was so parched he would have sifted his piss through a gym sock for some hydration right about then. The liquid was delightfully smooth going down and the amount in the cup perfectly satiated him. He collapsed on the bed and wondered how come, after essentially sleeping for over a century, the first thing he wanted to do was sleep some more. Still, he did not wake until his alarm rang and informed him he had orientation in an hour.

*

Mills felt far more invigorated after his sleep and sprang to his feet with his usual energy. He indulged in a long, steamy shower, standing under the perfect jet of water until the hot water seeped into his muscles and warmed him all the way down to his bones.

Still dripping from the shower, skin pink from the heat, he swiped his large hand across the fogged up mirror and took a look at himself. It should not have been a surprise that he looked exactly the same as when they left. His black hair hung in damp ringlets around his face, the van dyke he sported framing his lips. He didn’t spare much time to contemplating his reflection. The last thing he wanted was to be late.

After drying off and putting on his casual outfit that consisted of a cream long sleeved shirt, charcoal jeans and black boots, he checked himself out again. He wondered if he should complete the outfit with his leather bomber jacket or if that was too douchey. It felt like picture day at school, everything riding on one outfit and one moment. He ran his hand through his dark locks, brushing against his shoulders and necked another cup of that pink liquid. But Brawndo has what plants crave, he snorted at himself, it's got electrolytes!

He jogged down winding corridors, taking turns as the panels directed him. He was too absorbed in the fact that he was barely going to make it in time that he didn’t take much in until he was inside the designated room. Had he not been too busy fussing with his dress some southern belle debutante making her grand entrance into society, he might have bothered to remember his way back.

The room was playing triumphant music and turned on all the panels and lights.

“Hello, passengers,” the hologram of a new travel companion in Homestead blues smiled at him. “Will you all take your seats?”

Mills craned his neck to peer through the door, trying to see if anyone was waiting outside. He knew he wasn’t early, so the others should have been here a while ago. Maybe he was in the wrong place. “Welcome, Learning group 65.” Nope. He was in the right place alright. “Your introduction to colonial life.” Mills sat and held in a chuckle at being the only one listening to this intro. Had it been a real person, he would not be playing out this silly charade. Guess machines aren’t that perfect after all. “Earth is a prosperous planet. The cradle of civilization,” the hologram launched into its spiel. “But for many, it’s also overpopulated, overpriced, overrated.”

Mills raised his hand in the air, feeling a mix of amusement and foolishness to be asking a holo permission to speak. “Excuse me, I think there must be some mistake—”

“Hold all questions till the end, please,” the holo lifted a silencing finger and went on.

“Right, sorry,” he raised his hands up defensively, now definitely smiling.

“The colonies offer an alternative, a better way of life,” the holo kept pitching even after Homestead had made the sale. He was on board, almost touching down. Nobody needed to hear all this again.

“I’m sorry,” he chuckled as the images of what the company projected Homestead II would look like crawled across the screen. “Where is everybody? Did their alarms not wake them?”

“We are all on the Starship Icarus,” the holo replied and had it been a person, there definitely would have been an undertone of sarcasm there.

“No, but I’m the only one here,” Mills sighed, trying to stay patient.

“There are 5,000 passengers and 258 crew members aboard the ship,” the holo stated unhelpfully.

“So how come I’m alone then?” he frowned. His voice sounded suspicious before he even registered the tension gathering in his body.

“We are all in this together,” came the tepid platitude from the holo and Mills shot up from his seat, determined not to waste any more time on this useless travel companion.

He strained to listen outside the door, but couldn’t hear any footsteps, any movement. In fact, there was nothing at all. No other pods had opened, as far as he could remember from his daze yesterday. He didn’t run into anyone on his way, then or now. His stomach dropped and he felt like the ship flipped upside down. He lost balance for a moment, a wall rushing at him with a mean left hook. He felt himself slide down it, his soul floating somewhere outside his body as the impact rang a hollow din in his ears. He ran without touching the ground, chasing his own tail again and again, searching for anyone at all, yelling out hello’s and is there anyone out there’s as he took sharp turns down the warrens of corridors.

He put as tight a seal on panic as he could as his heavy boots thundered in the tomb-like silence of the ship. A viewing window blurred past him as he ran and he slid to a stop. Part of him screamed to keep going and not waste time, while another part recognized he had no idea where he was going anyway, so why rush. He approached with timid steps, aware he was about to witness the awe-striking majesty of deep space.

Blackness the likes of which he could never have conceptualized stretched and hung heavily in every direction. Embedded in it were countless flickering stars, swirling galaxies in warm and cool hues, bustling with life and swallowed in a paralyzing stillness all at once. His head spun as his mind tried to take it all in and he gripped the frame of the window for support. A primal, utterly irrational urge seized him and he wanted to bellow out into the void. The eerie, complacent silence, completely ambivalent to his existence and current anguish was overwhelming. Some brutish, simple part of him wanted to disturb it, make some mark.

But in space, no one can hear you scream.

*

@safarigirlsp ​