#thread with him 🔫

[journcys]

Let’s talk about APOLLO JUSTICE.

HE’S FINE AND HE IS A LAWYER!

Apollo works with Phoenix Wright ( @lawbnd ) in the Johto/Unova regions.

Apollo lived in Unova since he was nine years old. However, After meeting Phoenix and co, he has travelled to other regions. He considers Johto almost like a second home.

As a child he grew up in an unknown region. ( meaning idk what the khura’in equivalent in pokeverse would be yet lmao ). He was raised by a man named Dhurke Sahdmadhi until he was 9 after being separated from his mother and unable to find her. Dhurke felt it was too dangerous for Apollo to stay in his region and had sent him back to Unova where Apollo was forced to take care of himself.

Apollo was abandoned at a young age ( his father was murdered when he was an infant and that’s when dhurke started raising him ) and sometimes comes off as vain, sarcastic and self conscious. He’s kind, though, and had become more grounded since he’s done more cases. He met his mother later in life.

Apollo mostly specializes in flying type Pokémon. His ace Pokémon is his Braviary ( ♂lvl 54 ). The rest of his team consists of Staraptor ( ♂lvl 52 ), Pidgeot (♀ lvl 50 ) and Noctowl ( ♀ lvl 49 ). He also has a Rowlett, Natu and Tailow who are not battle ready.

Apollo also has a Stoutland ( ♂ lvl 70 ) named Holmes, who is battle retired. He has had Holmes since he was in law school—he was adopted from a Pokémon adoption program after being abandoned. He is old, slow, and prefers to sleep all day at the office, however he is very healthy. He doesn’t seem to mind Trucy putting her hat or capes on him but he can get Snippy with Phoenix’s Boltund sometimes. Overall he is a very chill and friendly old dog.

Apollo’s old mentor, Kristoph Gavin, ended up being a murderer and that whole scenario still gives him night terrors sometimes. He’s gotten better, but they still sneak up on him.

Apollo is friends with his old mentors brother, Klavier Gavin, even if Klavier annoys him faster then Phoenix seems to. Klavier is also a prosecutor. It’s great.

He’s a guy doing his best.

Short king at 5’5”.

The bracelet that Apollo wears tightens around his wrist when he notices nervous habits in people that would be subtle to most. This proves that Apollo has a psychic ability, regardless of it being quite small in psychic ability standards. To use this ability, both of his eyes must be locked onto the other person.

[pritvolny]

finished watching the dj&ts eps and may i raise everyone a glass of hollywood au

[gyuswhore]

Grease (the tragedy)

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.”

jeon wonwoo x reader

word count: 5.8k

warnings: smut [minors DNI], fluff, angst, mechanic!wonu, annoyances to lovers, blind date gone wrong but then gone right, kissing, clit stuff, oral (f. rec), thigh fucking (oop), this all happens at a desk LMAO, title is a what I thought was a funny spin on how people say "grease (the musical)"....has nothing to do with the musical though but lots to do with actual grease!!!

synopsis: In which you have to sit through one of the worst dates of your life, followed by the insistent tug of fate and compulsion that lead you straight back to where you'd sworn you'd never go.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY WIFE CAMOTHY @highvern everyone go say happy birthday to cam or ill appear in your room at night 🔫 anygays HAVE FUN READING THIS I hope this is all the sexy wonu content you wanted, I cant wait for your reaction hehehhehe

and also bigbigbigbig thank you to jessifer @the-boy-meets-evil for proofing this for me!!! ily heh

and and to everyone reading this who is not cam, I hope you enjoy reading mechanic!wonu as much as I liked writing him heheh PLS REMEMBER TO REBLOG AND TELL ME UR THOTS it could be in the tags, replies, an ask literally anything!!!! id love to hear what you guys think!!!!

masterlist

 [You]: do you think he died on the way [Liv]: hes still not there??? [You]: what do you think????? [Liv]: let me ask Amelia [You]: dont bother [You]: he can show up whenever he wants im leaving in 5 [Liv]: you promised you’d sit thru this!! [You]: sit thru what? an empty seat across from me???

Liv doesn’t respond immediately, and you immediately know she’s buggered off to ask her cousin why your date still wasn’t here. 

It’s not like you couldn’t have asked him yourself, the sparse textbox sitting just under Liv’s contact. You open it to inspect the contents. 

[liv’s cousin’s something]: Amelia gave me your number [liv’s cousin’s something]: friday night at the sage&salt at 7  [liv’s cousin’s something]: is that okay [You]: uh hey [You]: yeah that’s fine

Today 7:20 PM

[You]: im here?

The first thread of texts were enough to make you feel like this was some cold business meeting instead of a date, knowing wherever this would lead would be either the city dump or off a cliff. Liv was hearing none of it, taking the guilt tripping route, saying she’d already committed and her cousin was irritating enough even without a scuffle.

So when Friday evening came around you’d pulled on the first dress your fingers could find, took all of ten minutes fighting with your makeup to make it look like you did something and left the house with zero expectations. 

Despite that, as you see a man walk into the establishment dressed like he’d gotten into a fight with a squid and a paper shredder, you feel the stone in your chest tank into the abyss. Zero expectations, and he’s somehow managed to strike out anyway. 

The jacket looks like he’s put it on as a weak cover for the grime stains on his shirt and trousers, a couple jet black splatters across the outfit to really pull the whole thing together. It’s not like he looked homeless or anything, his face surprisingly handsome with his hair pushed away from his forehead. Although he remains looking like he’d been playing football in some neighbourhood parking lot before remembering he had an adult appointment too. 

You’d never seen the man in your life, but your gut told you this was the shit texter who’d kept you waiting for nearly an hour. He seems to notice too, eyes locking from across the restaurant as the waitress leads him to your table. 

“Wonwoo,” you greet with a difficult smile, half sure it came out as a grimace. “Right?”

“Yeah,” he huffs as he practically slams back down on the chair, and you wonder for a moment how the legs didn’t give out. He says your name and you nod. “Sorry I’m late, I got a call in the parking lot.”

He’s been in the parking lot this entire time?!

It’s like you’ve been doused in gasoline and lit on fire, yet somehow needing to give him a shaky reply anyway. 

“O–oh, I see.”

The waitress saves you from spitting in his face when she asks if you were ready to order. 

Dinner was off the table, as you discussed with Liv who forwarded it to her cousin to her–whoever it was that set up this god awful date–and agreed on dessert and perhaps a drink. 

“I’ll have the chocolate cake,” you request in an attempt to make this somewhat better. You consider for a moment before asking for a drink as well, “And a dry gin martini, please.”

“Um,” he staggers as he barely skims the menu, ultimately flipping it closed. “I’ll have the same, I guess.”

Deep voice. You might’ve liked that if you weren’t already so peeved. 

The waitress disappears with the menus, leaving you two alone for the first time. 

“So,” you start with an exhale. “How do you know Amelia?”

“Her husband.”

“I see.”

Silence. 

“How do you know her husband?”

He sighs like this is all inconveniencing him, and it irks you to an irrespective degree. Like you wanted to be here either. 

“He brings his car to the workshop alot, became friends somewhere along the line.”

“Workshop?”

He looks a little startled, cocking his head to the side. “I’m a mechanic? Did Olivia–was it–not tell you?”

“No, she didn’t.”

It’s silent yet again as the man across from you refuses to elaborate. You curse as you ask him a follow up question. If there was anything you hated more than shouldering a dead conversation, it was sitting through an awkward silence. 

One hour. You’d sit through this for one more hour and then you’d leave. 

“What kind of cars do you work on?”

“Expensive ones,” he answers. You might’ve kicked yourself if he’d ended it at that, but he continues with a purse of his lips. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it. Vintage pieces too.”

“Have I heard of it?”

“The cars?”

“No, I mean,” you let out a breath. “Your workshop.”

“Jeon Motors, just a couple streets down actually.”

You did know what he was talking about, not expecting to recognise it through the empty question, passing by it on multiple occasions in this part of the city.

“Oh, I’ve seen it a few times.”

“Yeah, we’ve been there for a while.”

“Family business?”

“Uh–sort of.” 

“Okay,” you sigh in an irritated laugh. This was going to be a very difficult hour. “Keep that to yourself too.”

“Is there a problem?”

Just as you lift your eyes to lock with his, a ready yes, there is actually a problem on your tongue, there’s an intrusion. 

“Here are your chocolate cakes,” the waitress places the cakes down, and then the drinks. “And your dry gin martinis. Do you guys need anything else?” By the time the waitress is gone you’ve somewhat forced yourself to put that sudden surge of flames out, to a degree at least. 

“Okay,” he sighs, grabbing his glass and downing nearly half the contents. He emerges, wiping a bit of a spill from the corner of his mouth. “Let’s get this out of the way.”

“Hm?” He’s speaking to you with a very weird surge of intensity, and it confuses you.

“Neither of us wanna be here. You’re clearly trying to be hospitable but I’d really rather you not, especially when we’re both doing this to get our respective ticks off our hides.”

There isn’t much you can do but stare at him. 

“Have I misjudged your advances?” he asks over his glass, sharp eyes piercing. 

“No!” you yelp, reaching for your drink yourself, taking big sips only to emerge sputtering and heaving. 

Your date looks like he’s rising out of his chair when you raise a hand to stop him. 

“No,” you repeat, less jumpy this time. “I guess we could’ve cleared that out from before.”

Did he…snort?

“Sorry.” Dropping his chin to his chest, he composes himself. 

“What?” you ask, remaining annoyed as ever. 

“Nothing.”

That does it. You slam your now empty glass down on the table, slipping your fork out of the napkin a little forcefully, the metal glinting in the light of the restaurant. You dig into a corner of the cake and shove it in your mouth. 

If he was gonna be rude, you could be too. 

“I don’t know about hospitable.” You swallow. “But I assumed not being an ass was kind of an unwritten rule for any situation really. Including the ones you’d rather not be in.”

Wonwoo stares at you with a blank face, his cake untouched. “I’m being an ass. My laugh couldn’t have offended you that much.”

“So you did pick that up,” you comment. “With the way this conversation’s going I would’ve thought it flew right over your engine.”

“I’d argue your laugh was the least offensive thing you’ve done tonight.” You plunge your fork into your cake again. “But clearly we’re in different realms of etiquette.”

Your eyes meet the rough stains on his attire, and then his own that bore into yours like a challenge. The cake isn’t too sweet, rich just the right amount and texturally sound. Maybe something good did come out of this fiasco. 

“Okay fine,” he announces, sitting up straighter. “I apologise.”

“For laughing?”

“And for being obscenely late.”

“And?”

“And…” he genuinely looks like he’s struggling to figure it out, but catches your eyes flickering to his tattered and stained outfit. “And for my entirely inappropriate dressing sense. You’ll have to forgive me for that one, oil and grime are my spoils of war.”

“Wear it like a badge, mister mechanic, but perhaps somewhere it’s appreciated.” 

Wonwoo has already finished his drink, his cake remaining untouched. “You’re quite adamant on disliking me.”

“And you’re quite adamant on being a horrid conversationalist.”

The corners of his mouth lift the slightest bit. Opening his mouth to respond, you cut him off. “Cars don’t talk? Or perhaps, machines are easier to understand?”

“More like I don’t care to be personable.”

“That can’t be good for business.”

“The cars speak for themselves.”

He’s a weird one. Even more so when he offers to pay the entire bill, promising you he wasn’t lying when he said he was good at what he does, and to “make up for lost personality points.” You manage to pay your half anyway, considering the circumstances. 

“Can you at least let me drive you home?” Wonwoo asks as you both step out of the establishment soon after. 

“Depends.” You fix the strap of your bag. “Will it fall apart on the highway?”

The blaring white of the restaurant's outdoor lights backlight Wonwoo to make him look like some sad angel. He turns to you, the same slight smirk that seems to be plastered on his face. “Why don’t you find out?”

“What do you mean sell it? I got this thing a year ago!” 

There isn’t much you can do but sigh loudly as you listen to Olivia talk about the state of her car, the one that cost too much to justify but she seemed to use and abuse like a very replaceable toy truck. 

Leaning against the hood of the darn thing, you talk to her. “The dealership is giving you a shit deal to take it off your hands, you might as well try your luck.”

The look on her face is easy to read as she silences. Not convinced in the slightest, waiting for the conversation to end just so she could figure it out on her own. Sighing loudly, you look back to the dark beauty with a crate of issues that make it spit and sputter to a stop every few weeks. 

“How much did you say the repairs cost again?”

“Enough to put me on food stamps,” she whines through her frustration, tears pricking against her eyes as they glisten under the neighbourhood streetlights. “Why are you smirking like that?!”

“It’s just,” you pause as you consider your next words, pressing your lips together. “This is a little bit your fault.”

Lies, it was entirely her fault. 

Liv stares like you’ve just offended her, which you’re sure you have.

“Care to share how this possible bankruptcy could be my fault?"

“Because you drive the thing like you have a secret reserve buried somewhere in Tenerife.”

“My apologies for making a habit of not being a public nuisance and going forty on a national highway.”

“Your speed-o-metre is not the issue here.”

“Yes, of course, everything’s my fault.”

“Liv, please!” You groan loudly. “Just…let’s try putting up a listing tomorrow. Consider the prospects and you can decide from there.”

Sagging her shoulders and stretching her neck, Liv decides to simply trudge back indoors in silence. You take it as a begrudging yes, and follow her inside. 

That very night, when you were at the very cusp of falling into the dark space of sleep, your brain re-awakens before your eyes do. A jolt as the memory comes back to you of the many months ago, sitting in that restaurant across from a man who was too handsome for the personality he seemed to sire. 

“Expensive ones,” he had said. “Ones that rich people abuse to an inch of the machine’s life and wonder why the dealership gives up on it.”

How fitting. 

“Are you going to explain or should I explode instead?” 

You’d mentally prepared for the bombardment of accusations from Liv, her questioning perfectly right as you yourself cringed at the thought of showing your face here of all places. The one last one that’d officially banned her from ever setting you up with an individual of her choosing ever again. 

Hearing only silence as her answer, she appeals; “I thought he was the worst date of your life.”

“Nothing to do with his skills as a mechanic,” you mumble, refusing to make eye contact. 

“And everything to do with this being a horrible idea anyway!” Liv stares up at the sign on top of the garage. Jeon Motors. “What makes you think this guy can fix my car?”

What did make you think he could fix Liv’s car? If you’d known you might have given her an answer, but as you stare at the giant signboard that you’ve driven past for longer than you can remember, you can’t help but feel this place has been haunting you. Just a little. 

You can’t help but feel the tingle of goosebumps rise on your skin, the hairs across the expanse standing up at the thought of walking inside. There was no way you could differentiate the reaction from plain nerves or from the cringing drills that sound all the way outside the establishment. Regardless, you make an attempt to look confident as you make your strides into the pungent of the workshop. 

The first thing you note is how…clean everything is. Cleaner than any other workshop you’ve walked into anyway. 

The interior is bigger than it looks from the outside, the ginormous hall hosting about a dozen cars within your eyeshot alone. One side of the great hall holds an array of parked cars in different stages of dismantled and deconstructed, while the other side is lined with contraptions that look like stripped and enlarged elevators. 

Once you’ve inhaled a beyond recommended amount of smoke fumes and listened past all of the clanging, banging and sparks, you register the people that are elbow deep in the hoods of the vehicle they’re working on, enough to leave you and Liv standing at the entrance of an establishment that you can barely make sense of. 

“Can I help you?” A man in stained beige overalls approaches your wide eyed pair, face half covered in his baseball hat and hands occupied with a rag. 

To your slightest dismay, it isn’t the man you’re looking for.

“Uh– is Wonwoo here?” you ask. 

“He’s in a meeting right now. Are you a friend?” 

No, just a failed love interest.

“He,” you falter. If you weren’t a friend…then what were you? “He gave me his card.”

“Do you need help with your car?”

“Mine, actually,” Liv pipes. “It’s outside if you wanna take a look first.”

With one sweeping look across the warehouse, your eyes land on one of the few doors on the left. You register the plain look of it for barely a moment before joining Liv outside. 

By the time her car has been rolled and parked inside for a more thorough inspection, it’s taken you every last grain of your willpower to not stalk back out and wait in your car. For whatever reason, you can’t help but feel a very familiar spasm of irritation spark through you. Here you are, left anxiously waiting for the same man for a second time, merely feet away but remaining occupied with more important things. 

At the very least, the multiple hands prodding around the car’s engine were being somewhat of use, attempting to survey the same issues that had been looked at about a dozen times before. You silently promise to be a better person if this trip wouldn’t be for vain.  

“Am I late for something again?” 

Your throat is suddenly clogged as you open your mouth and no sound graces your presence. The face that meets you has his eyebrows raised as he stares at you in expectation, a ghost of a smile on his face. 

“W–Wonwoo, hi, um.” You clear your throat loudly, heat cursing your cheeks. “No, of course not.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure after…four months?” he asks, hands on his hips and his back straightened.

“I…my friend’s car needed to be looked at so…”

“Ah, of course!” He turns to where you’ve motioned, looking at the popped hood of the car his employees are working on. “I’ll take a look at it myself, don’t worry about it.”

He’s already walking away, towards the car and leaving you a ways away from the action. You stare at his back; the overalls tied at the waist and the stained white T-shirt that clings to his form from the humidity.

Wonwoo remains a man of a few words, and you remain at wits end about it all. 

A loud honk gives you something to do as you jump at the sound so up close, scrambling to move away from the smack centre as another car pulls into the garage. 

“Careful, those marks on the floor aren’t just oil and paint.” Wonwoo snickers from his place hunched over the hood as he cranes his neck to look at you. 

You walk over to where he is to get out of the way. “Was that meant to sound like an innuendo?”

“I was talking about the occasional running over someone’s foot,” he answers. “Not sure what you were thinking.” 

Ignoring the jab, you note that it was now only you and him crowding the car, “Where’s Olivia?”

“Went to look at spare parts.” You watch him as his gloved hands reach further into the enclave and yank at something hard. 

“So you can fix it?” 

“The car? It’ll take a couple days but it’s not really an issue.”

Furrowing your brows, you press on, “But the dealership—”

“Dealerships are the spawn of the devil,” he grunts as he finally wrenches out a spare nut or bolt or something that’s covered in oil. “Let me guess, they wanted her to sell it back to them?”

It’s your turn to raise your brows. “Yes. They tried fixing it, but it'd just stop again.”

“Because they’ve been fixing the symptoms.” He raises his eyes to meet yours, hands occupied with rubbing the part in his hands relatively clean with a rag. “They haven’t bothered to do anything about the actual problem.” 

“Because that’s gonna cost…?”

“Couple hundred, give or take,” he announces nonchalantly, turning his focus back to the engine. 

“But—” That’s it?

“Fifty extra for every question I have to answer after this.” You briefly wonder if Wonwoo’s eyes were always this piercing, boring into your soul like he didn’t need words to know what was going on with you. 

“Fine,” you huff, moving to drag a chair over, mostly just so you could have reason to break eye contact, and plop down as you watch him work. 

The more you think about it, the more you can find yourself unbothered by his strange behaviour. He wasn’t bleak, but nowhere near one of the more interesting people you’ve met. Taking the opportunity to really scan the man head to toe, you can’t say you find anything truly concrete to be this put off by him. 

Not much of a talker, but with the times you’ve prayed for a man that knew when to shut up sometimes, you wonder how much you can actually complain about this boon in particular. 

Besides, he was a looker, and you were completely content shutting your trap if it meant you got to shamelessly ogle at him from this close. 

“You know, this place looks bigger than it does from the outside.”

Wonwoo stares pointedly. 

You raise a shoulder in nonchalance, “Wasn’t a question!”

He simply huffs as he mumbles, “More length than breadth I suppose.”

“What are those things called?” you ask as you watch a sedan get lifted into the on some platform on the other end of the row. 

Glancing back, he answers, “Post lift, car lift, whatever you wanna call it.”

“What does it do?”

“Take a wild guess.”

“Touché.” 

Glancing back at him, you catch sight of his stained shirt once again. “Is that the same thing you wore to our date?”

Chin to chest, he registers what he’s wearing, hands still working on pulling bolts and boxes out of the hood. “Have about twenty of the same shirt, I can never be too sure.”

“You’re impossible.”

He smirks, “Touché.” 

You questioned if this was a mistake. 

Olivia could pick up her car herself, so why did you insist to be the one that did it? As you pay the taxi driver, you feel your ankles lock for a moment as you move to slip out of the cab. Frozen, you hear the driver ask you if everything was alright, to which your legs seem to work again, finally foot to gravel in front of the dreaded workshop.

The Jeon Motors sign blares the same as it always has in the afternoon light, glinting as it encourages you to walk in and do one of the stupider things you’ve done in life. Other than the ridiculous outfit you’ve put on, of course. 

But alas, as you hand over your slip to one of the many mechanics in the workshop, you find yourself praying he wasn’t here after all, that perhaps you could miss him as you leave and never have to see him again. 

Somebody yells out his name, and the dream drifts away like smoke. 

Finding the courage, you look up to where the man shouted for him, and immediately wish you hadn’t. 

Wonwoo remains in his overalls, the same ones that he had tied to his waist the last time you saw him. His undershirt however…

The tank top is revealing too much for you to pretend you don’t care, his hair remaining pushed back and away from his forehead as he walks over to you in what feels like slow motion. He takes the slip that he does not need, smiling at you as he says his hellos. 

“Car’s all fixed up, just need some papers that need signing and you’re all set.”

“Oh, but Liv isn’t here today.”

“That’s alright, you can sign them too,” he reassures, motioning for you to walk with him towards the car. “The car was alright in the test drives, revving hasn’t caused any problems either.”

He halts in front of the now (supposedly) fixed black sedan and pats the hood lightly, “If anything happens tell her to bring it straight here, although it shouldn’t have any more problems.”

“What’s your rate of return on customers?” you ask, a slight smirk on your face.

He thinks for a moment, “Pretty crap. But I guess that means I’m doing something right.”

You consider yourself something of a helicopter parent when it comes to your own car, but perhaps you’d change that if it meant you’d get to come here a little more often. 

Goodness, what’s gotten into you.

Wonwoo’s smiling too, and for a brief moment the silence is nearly awkward. A pause before he proposes leaving. 

“Shall we go to the office then?” 

Nodding eagerly, you trail behind him as he leads you towards the other end of the workshop, passing by even more cars in all their stripped or constructed glory. Glancing in front, you catch sight of Wonwoo’s back, ensnared for a moment before you snap your head away, reciting every curse word you know like a mantra. 

“It’s less hot in here too, keep the air on all the time.” Wonwoo stands in front of the plain doors, hands on the handle to wrench it open. You recognise it as the same door you had noted a few days ago. “Would you like anything? Coffee, tea?”

“Um, just water is fine, thanks.”

It’s quite plain, beige and leather against cream walls and unfittingly white lights. There’s a desk on one corner that’s beyond cluttered with more papers than you can register, pens and other office supplies mixed into the disorganised chaos of the large tabletop.

“Sorry about the mess, I can never find time to sort through it.” To your surprise, the light tinge of his cheeks suggest he might actually feel a little embarrassed. 

Cute. 

There’s cabinets that line on one of the far walls, and you watch him take his gloves off to open it and reach for a cup. The white porcelain emerges stained with an ashy grey as his fingers betray him. He looks flustered, glancing at his hands and back up to the cabinet. 

You can’t help but laugh a little, moving forward to help. “It’s alright, let me.”

“Sorry,” he apologised again, with a sheepish look on his face. “I’ll, um, wash this off.”

“Go on, I’m here,” you reassure as you move towards the water dispenser in the corner to fill your clean cup. 

He returns with significantly cleaner hands and apologises one last time. “Seems all I do around you is apologise.”

You have the good humour to chuckle, “So I’ve noticed.”

He does well to clear out most of the clutter that’s on his desk, leaving enough room to set down a few pieces of paper as you take a seat on the opposite side. 

As you scan through the papers, he attempts to make sober conversation. “You should…bring your car around for inspections if you want.”

“Oh? Even if I ask a million questions?”

“I can make an exception or two,” he grins. 

“And if you charge me double?”

“Might not charge you at all.”

“Might?” you question as you lift the pen he’d given you to sign the first space. 

“Might.”

“And what’re the conditions for that?” 

He doesn’t answer as he ponders and you fill in the second blank. “I’ll have to think about that.”

You snort before you can help it, your last signature coming out a little wonky as your hands shake. Turning the papers over to him, you continue, “Well then, let me know when you figure it out.”

He stares pointedly as he accepts the papers before dropping his eyes again, “Can I?”

“Hm?”

“Can I? Let you know?” 

It’s like you’ve been frozen over, the typewriter in your mind jamming as it punches out the implications of what he’s saying. 

“It seems, at least to me, that we may have gotten off on the wrong foot,” he continues. 

You hesitate. “I think so too.”

“I…I don’t want to put anything like pressure on you but–” 

“Would you like to try the new gelato place downtown this week?” you ask finally as you save him from his misery. “If…you’d like.”

He looks stunned for a moment before he’s scrambling, “Oh–of course! Yes, anytime is fine with me.”

“Great,” you smile, lifting from your seat. “It’s a date.”

“I’ll promise to wash my hands this time…and my shirt. And I won’t be late.” 

“Let’s not make promises we can’t keep,” you tease. 

You’re nearing the door as he follows behind, and just as you’re about to pull down on the handle, you hear him say your name. 

Turning around, almost too eagerly, you look up at him in expectation. He’s close, almost right behind you as he looks like he’s debating whether opening his mouth is a good idea. 

“Are you doing anything else today?” 

“Um,” you stutter for a moment. “I don’t have to drop off the car till later tonight, that’s all really.”

He swallows. “Do you wanna stay? Just a little while. We can stay in here, nobody comes in anyway.”

You aren’t entirely sure why you said yes, because you did actually have dinner plans with Liv later tonight, but the teeny tiny voice in your mind egged you on anyway. Besides, Liv wouldn’t mind, not if you were cancelling for this.

This entailed the very friendly contact of Wonwoo’s tongue in your mouth, and the extremely cordial way it seemed to caress your insides. If somebody asked you how it led to this, you don’t think you’d have an answer. Not that you care, especially when his hands are grabbing your waist and hips like that.

He’s already locked the door, reassuring you that nobody would find their boss and client in the smack dab middle of the devil’s tango. You take his word for it, relishing in the way his hot breath hits your skin below your ears, his mouth sucking under your earlobes as you whimper ever so quietly. 

Your hands are on his exposed biceps, feeling him up all to your heart's content. “Do you–Do you always wear stuff like this?”

He emerges, wet lipped and eyes trained. “So I wasn’t imagining it.”

“Imagining what?” you ask as you let him unbuckle your trousers.

“Please. Like you weren’t stripping me with your eyes.”

If you were warm before you, you're boiling up now. Were you being so obvious?

“It’s alright,” he reassures as you feel his fingers make contact with the crotch of your panties, pushing in to put pressure on your clit. “Wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t picked up on it.”

You feel his fingers push the dampening fabric away as his fingers make contact with your hole, coating his fingers in the arousal that’s made itself known. It’s hard to not hiss at the way he begins to circle it, thanking the universe that the loud noises of the workshop outside were masking whatever evidence of the heinous crime you were committing inside. 

Back against the couch in his office, you settle into the cushions once you feel him rub at your clit, one hand spreading your lips apart as he continues to massage your own wetness onto your throbbing cunt. 

When he retreats you almost cry out, but are smothered when he plunges two fingers into your hole instead, curling them almost immediately inside you. The consistent brush of the tips of his fingers on your walls are making it difficult to keep your eyes open, and absolutely impossible to keep your moans at bay. 

“Wonwoo, that’s so good, fuck.”

Through your closed eyes, you don’t note when Wonwoo gets on his knees. But you do feel him yank your trousers off entirely, and you definitely feel him place his wet mouth flush on your lower lips, sucking at your clit as he continues to pump his fingers in and out of you mercilessly. 

That’s all it takes for your noises to become increasingly high pitched, hands buried in his beautiful hair as he continues to pleasure you beyond imagination. 

“I’m so close, keep going, please, it feels so–”

He somehow buries his face in deeper, sucking harder, licking faster, and it’s enough for you to finally feel yourself collapsing on the inside, your composure dissolving as you moan so loud you’re sure they can hear it outside, even through all the clanging and revs of cars. 

There’s no way for you to know how long you lay there slumped against the couch cushions, but when you hear Wonwoo speak to you in your ear, you answer. 

“Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you say as you grab his face and pull his lips to yours, tasting the tang in his mouth from your arousal. “Do you have a condom?”

“I–fuck,” he thinks for a moment. “I don’t think I do.”

You try not to feel too disappointed, but you sigh into his mouth anyway. 

“Can I fuck your thighs?” you hear him ask, and you might have just orgasmed again, untouched. 

“Fuck, yes you can.” 

With a yelp, you feel yourself lifted off the couch as you wrap your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, letting him guide you to his desk. “Wonwoo!”

You hear a loud crash of the desk being stripped of all its inhabitants, and your back hitting the cool of the table top. 

Wonwoo unties the arms of his overalls around his waist, letting the legs pool to the floor before slipping his hard cock out of his boxers. 

You don’t see it as you feel him lock your knees together and lift both your calves to rest on one of his shoulders. But you do feel it as he pushes the head into the seam of your thighs, watching the indent as the pink of his dick appears before you through the skin of your thighs. 

Wonwoo’s face is contorted as he pulls back and pushes back through again, this time brushing against your still sensitive clit. You gasp at contact, and immediately feel him thrusting faster. 

“Wonwoo,” you grunt. “Lower.”

He obliges, pushing his dick lower so it can rub flush against your clit as he begins to roughen up his pace. 

You moan as you feel his free hand that isn’t holding your legs trail to the ends of your shirt, caressing over your stomach to pull it up and reveal your bra clad tits. He pushes his hands under the nearest cup and begins to grope you so wonderfully with his big, warm hands. Rolling the bud between his fingers, you can only grasp onto his wrists as a handheld to keep you down on earth. 

The desk beneath you is rattling with noise, the full drawers making themselves known as Wonwoo pounds into your thighs like he would die if he stopped, mouth coming in contact with whatever skin of your legs he could reach, his breath fanning the side of your knees. 

You’re close again, and you know he is too with the way his thrusts are beginning to grow sloppy. 

“There,” he pants. “Almost.”

You orgasm for the second time, the throb your clit beyond comprehension as the rough of his dick slides across your clit mercilessly. 

“Cum like this, Wonwoo please I need to see you cum.”

And he does, shooting the heft of his load to cover your already wet cunt and thighs, landing on your stomach as he continues to ride out his high between your legs. 

The back of your head hits the table as you take in gulps of air through the aftermath of it all. Wonwoo is putting his weight on the back of your thighs, holding onto the table for support. 

“Oh, Liv is never gonna let me live this down,” you pant, lolling your head to one side as you register him. 

He peers up at you through his hair, the stupid smirk on his face, “Do you care?”

You’re smiling a little too when you answer, “Not really.”

And then your legs are off his shoulders as he nestles between them instead, diving in to lift your head and kiss you. 

And you let him, although you wouldn’t really call it too much of a kiss—not when the both of you were smiling like idiots through the clash. 

[rosemaze-reveries]

During an interview, the manor guests suddenly get a question about you.

this is def an experimental format!! i got this idea while reading the character letters. in the POV of an unknown interviewer (not reader). reader uses they/them.

🔗⚰️📰🔮❤️‍🩹💉🌪️✂️🍀🩰🔫🪡🤹🧲🦋🐍

Q. Could you describe your relationship with (Y/N)?

🔗 Ada - "Yes, that's my lover. I would say our relationship falls within the typical scope of that sort of thing. Of course, I believe we share something special, but everyone does when they're in love, don't they?" She covers all her bases in one decisive breath, leaving little room for me to comment.

⚰️ Aesop sits perfectly upright, fingers threaded at his knees. His eyes drift to the side and he seems to begin speaking mid-thought. "I had... cautioned myself not to upset their perception of me," he explains. "But they pried, and stayed, regardless of what they found... For that, I'm grateful."

📰 Alice has kept a sharp eye on me the entire time, but it's at this question that she drops the formalities. "I wasn't aware you would be prying into my personal affairs. Where did you learn that name?" Her frankness pins me in place. For some reason, I end up apologizing.

🔮 Eli can't help a sheepish smile from blooming across his face. "Well, truthfully... I don't use this term lightly, but they might be the love of my life." He has been consistently grounded with his responses, so I'm surprised to catch him flustered, however subtle it is. Personally, I'm touched.

❤️‍🩹 Emil considers for a moment. He doesn't meet me in the eye, instead pinning his gaze on nowhere in particular. A faint smile ghosts his lips. After a while, he answers, simply, "Safe."

💉 Emily's hands are folded neatly on her lap. At the mention of that name, her shoulders tense, but she otherwise maintains her composure. "Someone I trust." Her answer is vague and cautious, but acceptable. I'll try to uncover a deeper meaning behind that 'trust'.

🌪️ Ithaqua - "Mine." He is curt and to the point. Yours? I echo, hoping he'll elaborate. His head tilts to the side, and while I can't see the face behind his mask, a sense of dread suddenly overcomes me. I decide not to press further.

✂️ Jack stretches out his hand of blades, flexing each finger in front of him. I can't deny the cold sweat that drips down my spine just by being in his presence. "May I respond with a question of my own?" he says to me. "Suppose a butterfly loses its way, and winds up caught in a spider's web. Wouldn't you agree that the more it writhes and struggles, the more exhilarated the spider becomes?" I don't have the courage to hear out the rest of this analogy.

🍀 Lucky - "I've always been known as a pretty lucky guy, but the luckiest day of my life was when I met them! I remember it was the—" He drags me down a long-winded story about their life together. I get the idea. Eventually I'm forced to cut him off.

🩰 Margaretha twirls a curl of hair, a meek blush dusting her cheeks. "Have you ever been in love before? You're never prepared for the magic of it all. I feel a new rush with them everyday. I know, realistically, all good things come to an end, so I tried to remind myself to expect the worst, but they've proven over and over that... I'll never feel safer than in their arms." After rambling for some time, a look of surprise flashes across her face. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to go off like that. Oh, but I've just never met someone who feels so much like true love before."

🔫 Martha doesn't miss a beat. "Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." I look down to double-check the name written in her file. Her watchful gaze follows my line of sight. Are you sure? I try. "Must've been some confusion somewhere," she insists. The next day, I realize all my files on her and (Y/N) have gone missing.

🪡 Matthias - "Wh-What?" he starts, but keeps going before I can repeat the question. "Oh, uh, an ally, I guess." Well, I gathered that much. When I press for more details, his head sinks low, fingers grasping at the armrest. "I don't know what they saw in me. Was it out of pity?"

🤹 Mike's eyes light up and he blinds me with a contagious smile. "(Y/N)'s a sneaky one, and I mean it—they've got me under the trickiest spell of all. Guess what happens every time I think about them?" Egged on by his grin, I take the bait. You get lovesick? I guess. Suddenly, he tosses a handful of butterfly glitter in my face. "I get butterflies!" Very funny, I sigh, exasperated with these carnies. Why did he have that on hand in the first place?

🧲 Norton leans back in his chair, scowling. "What's that got to do with anything?" He snaps a couple times in my face, urging me to "stay on topic." It's hard to say if this question struck a nerve, as he's been uncooperative for most of this interview, but my suspicions point me to prod further. After all, it'd have been much easier if he just said he didn't know them.

🦋 Vera's face contorts into a leery, hostile glower. "Why do you ask that?" Before I can say anything to mitigate the rising tension, she catches herself, and her expression softens slightly. "I'm sorry. That's... someone quite dear to me, so your question took me by surprise."

🐍 Yidhra's follower goes pale, clearly unnerved. "She won't answer that," she tells me through shallow breaths. "Th-This isn't my place to say, but I'd advise you not to involve yourself with that person." As if on cue, I get a sensation I can only describe as a hand slowly wrapping around my neck. It disappears when I move to scratch it. Must've been my imagination.

Part 2

[themushroomofdeath]

characters: eliza beaufoy (original character) x trafalgar d. water law fluffy, nsfw. morning sex, unprotected sex, rotting sugary of a fluff

sooo, people liked the one i posted, so I guess you can have more Ellaw, if you want? might post her profile if anyone want to see too. MINORS, BE GONE. 🔫

It was rare, those mornings in the Polar Tang. Lazy days where the heart pirates could spend unwinding in bed for a little longer, instead of immediately getting up to a day full of work. It was even more rare for their captain to accept the prospect of doing the same, letting his mind be consumed by anything other than planning and working.

But the hand threading through his silky strands of hair is just convincing enough to keep him from leaving the tranquility of his current position. Eyes still closed, even breath moving his chest ever so gently, nose unconsciously nuzzling against the pillowy skin of his lover’s bosom, holding her body close to his own - he was just content to accept this form of affection for the time being.

And to her, he never looked more beautiful. She learned to love him with any mask he would take - the stoic pirate, the genius surgeon, the man who refused to show weakness, the child-like nature of his eyes when finding a new collectible - even the endless mood swings at time, but most of all, she loved his peaceful and vulnerable state. Moments he seemed to reserve to her and him only, a shared secret closed behind locked doors. Trafalgar Law had moments of humanity too, despite popular belief.

There was pleasant warmth running through her veins, endless devotion from just gazing at his serene expression, enough affection to fill an ocean from holding him so close to her heart and knowing he was protected. He was so very precious, if only he could feel the extension of her love for him, never would he doubt the worth he had in this world, ever again.

Hand tired, she let it rest against the nape of his neck, choosing to adjust her body in his grip, just enough to reach for his forehead and temples with her lips, leaving a trail of deliberate kisses, trying to convey all her tenderness in the wake of her motions. She could feel him stir with that, but no protest came, only a content exhale - acceptance. 

Smiling at that, she hummed a response, moving to kiss each of his eyelids, each side of his nose and each cheekbone and cheek, earning a tilt of his head by the end, to be able to finally reach his full lips, leisurely taking her time with it, hand reaching to run gingerly through his sideburns, sharing one breath together.

Just sharing kisses and caresses for long lazy minutes, his free hand now joining to wander the expanse of her plushy thigh, to gently squeezing the fat on her hips and backside, repeating the motion enough to earn a little nip to his lower lip and a leg to almost instinctively reach around his own, pulling him in close. Pulling back ever so slightly, she could see that his eyes were now open, burning amber boring into her chocolate ones, faintly unfocused from just waking up, but pupils already blowing wide with desire. As it didn’t matter how many years they shared those acts of intimacy, he would feel just as addicted to her touches and warm skin, as the first time he allowed himself to feel them.

And how could he feel anything less than overpowered by those feelings, when her soothing voice, paired with a loving smile, reached his ears with a “Morning, love.” He could only hum an answer, too absorbed in the soft glow from the morning sun lighting her features, too enamored with her to give a coherent answer. Not that words were ever easy for him, at least not those of love or affection, too used to rejecting the concept of it, always stern and reserved, opting to hold an air of indifference - guarding his heart from the familiar feeling of loss. 

But to the one who has been gradually melting his icy walls, he would try and swallow the first instinct of fighting, allowing the warmth to consume his being, reaching to brush a path of tender kisses against the column of her throat, nonverbal language to each touch of his lips. Good Morning, My Heart. I love you. Thank You for Existing. I’m Safe With You.But not for long, as softness was never his speciality, and the temptation to graze and nip his teeth to the tender flesh was ever growing, the want to mark her as his own, suck a path of bruises to her collarbone, changing their position to lie atop her body, hips lazily rolling against each other, a need to release all those feelings into action. 

Answers to his ministrations came in the form of voluptuous thighs coming up to meet his sides, legs meeting behind his waist, looking for more friction between clothed sexes - just few barriers between them, as summer days kept them from wearing more than underwear to bed.  A sink of his teeth to the softness of her left breast and well placed thrust of his length against her still covered folds, and the nonverbal ritual came to an end. A moan, whimpered little sounds could be heard, a string of pleads for more - and who was he to deny it? His body was more hers than his, long tattooed fingers ready to please, reaching between them to rub her increasingly wet arousal, smirking proudly to himself, with how quick her body reacted. Adorable, was what she was. Moving back to observe her entirely, how her mouth hangs open with barely audible whimpers, pink blush adorning her  cheeks to her heaving chest, hips trying to meet the movement of his fingers - to which he pushes one, two, inside her entrance, marked thumb rubbing against sensitive nub, earning praises and moans. “A-ah, yes… Please. Yes. You are so good to me, Law.” Absolutely maddening.

“Take it off.” A simple command, one she didn’t really need to question, already knowing, her fingers reaching to unclasp the piece of clothing that kept her sensitive parts from his sharp gaze, freeing her heavy breasts from their confines, before reaching down to help take both bottom parts of their attires. 

Normally he would take the time with her, make her come on his fingers at least once, perhaps stimulating his tongue against her folds for another orgasm, before finally pushing inside her. But today felt different, he felt consumed with desire and ardor, wishing to be the closest possible to her body, leaning to her welcoming arms, hugging impossibly close, allowing her to be to one maneuver their bodies and guide his arousal to her entrance, letting himself sink inside in one languid move, gritting his teeth to control himself, from the sheer pleasure pooling within his lower abdomen from the warmth enveloping his girth.

Contrasting with her partner, Eliza freely let herself feel the contact, eyes closed and head thrown against the pillows under it, toes curling and hands reaching up to grab sturdy shoulders to anchor herself, mouth yet again falling open to babblering encouragements and praises. 

Taking a slow pace, position allowing for unhurried hip movements, lips and tongues dancing around each other, taking their time for once, too absorb to the tender embrace, allowing the moment to be more love making than simple sex. 

If he couldn’t already tell how much her feelings meant, with those intimate acts, Eliza seemed set on making sure he knew. As soon as his head fell to her shoulder, her voice met his ears, siren song driving him mad, too unused to the overwhelming feeling of adoration from her words. “I love you, do you know that? Mhmm. So, so much. My heart. A-ah. My only one. I want to be yours till my last breath, Law.” 

The way his position changed, hands coming up to reach for her thighs, pushing them up for easier access to drive faster into her, seemed to speak about how he wished her to stop talking. But she knew him enough to know, he just wouldn’t last long with all those feelings involved. And she didn’t mind, what mattered was how he absorbed her loving words, how his harsh actions did nothing to appease the slight shine of tears forming on his golden eyes, dark blush to run through his features - he was not used to this. It was too much, too tender, too much hope in unconditional love and a future together.

“Fuuuuck.” He growled as the pace quickened, he wanted to truly devour her, make her one with him and never let this feeling go. She gave him everything he ever needed all those years, if not more, and as an answer, he could just fuck into her harder, seeking the release from this overwhelming unfamiliar sensation. Reaching a hand to pour his fingers inside her mouth, which she gladly accepted, warm tongue rolling around them, wetting it - words of devotion shifting into filthy noises, to loud whimpers and moans, when those same fingers reached down to rub her puffy clit, all tenderness forgot for the moment, only the feeling of a knot ready to burst inside her belly. She was close, and so was he, as his voice rasped with pleas of “C’mon, 'Liz, come for me. Be a good girl for me. So good, so tight ‘round my cock.”

Devoted woman that she was, she did what he wanted from her. Legs convulsing with the stimulation, when he didn’t stop rubbing her sensitive nub nor the pounding inside her folds, loud orgasm hitting from the intensity of all feelings bursting from her chest and the right places being stroked again and again.  And not long, there was the warm filling of his seed spreading inside her, the pirate allowing himself to finish with a throaty moan, doing his best to not simply fall with all his weight over his lover, lowering himself to his elbows to sustain his body over her.

A moment to simply breath, gazing at each other, before her arms reached for him, bringing his body to meet hers anyway, to each he gladly accept, relaxing and circling his arms around her waist, head resting against her chest, ear able to listen to her heartbeats becoming stable again. His heart, he thought. 

He never said anything that morning, but to the woman who was back to her job of lovingly grazing her fingers through his now sweaty strands of hair and murmuring tender words, he promised to fight God and the Devil to keep her forever safe in his arms.

[stygiansun-totaleclipse]

Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii Fen!!!! Hope you are doing weeeell 😇

The Aurryn thread had me in stitches omg. You created a problem... now take responsibility 👀

Also just completely ignoring the whole reaction you have to the luca questions..... hmmm... 🧐🤔

But back to my ask. It is my most favorite ask i alwaaaayyyyys ask and i neeed to ask. If no one else has. But i fucking love a jealous RO especially when they try to not be jealous or it's completely outrageous for them to be.

Sooooooooooooooooooooooooooo: MC is at some ball thing and another noble is very much just trying to rizz the hell out of them. Like flirting their pants off (to hopefully flirt the MCs pants off too) and MC isn't uncomfortable but just enduring it because it's probably not something new. What do the ROs do/think about that 👀 📝

Also, I'm so glad the page is so lively, lol 💜

Hi again!! I’m doing well thank you! Hope you are good too. I see no problem with the aurynn situation 😏--in fact I have discovered I have the power to turn straight people gay with nothing more than a drawing so NONE of you are safe. 🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🔫🐛pew pew

Dunno what you are talking about with the Luca questions....there is nothing suspicious going on. :3

As for the jealousy question:

Kieran: pre-feelings, they won't really be very jealous and would probably only intervene bc they feel that someone flirting with their betrothed is going to be a bad look for them, you, and the noble. Post-feelings, they would start getting jealous but would have a hard time recognizing it as jealousy bc it is not a feeling they are familiar with. They'd probs spend a while just watching you from across the room with a troubled look and then find some excuse--if only to convince themselves they are doing this for a good reason--to cut in and dance with MC instead. They'd be in denial over feeling jealous.

Aurynn: pre-feelings, not going to care much so long as MC doesn't look uncomfortable. If MC does look uncomfortable or like they are so incredibly bored out of their skull, he'd step in but otherwise he is fine with letting MC handle it or if mc is flirting with others if they want to. He's a slut. He gets it. And he knows if MC really wants out of it they can just signal him with a look and he’ll come to the rescue but not without badgering the hell out of the noble first, if only just for the fun of it. Post-feelings, he's going to be struggling with why the hell he cares so much about seeing someone else rizzing mc up and might start getting petty about it. He wouldn't even care about rudely cutting in if it means he gets to monopolize your time and would probs overcompensate by being overly casual and talking too much so you can’t get a word in edgewise or question him bc he doesn’t quite know why he did that either.

Samira: Pre-feelings, so long as MC doesn't look uncomfortable, she would feel it would be rude to intrude even if she thinks it is a bad look for someone to be flirting with an engaged person so openly bc she is not nobility and feels a bit out of place cutting in between nobles but she would offer sympathetic looks if she can tell mc is just enduring it. Post-feelings, she might start to choose to interpret the noble's actions as overly brazen and mc as uncomfortable just to give herself an excuse to cut in. Would be staring daggers at the other noble even after they left despite herself.

Nihm: pre-feelings, would feel it would be bad for someone to be flirting with an engaged mc so openly and might leave it for Kieran to handle out of respect but if Kieran doesn’t notice then they might try to politely cut in so as not to cause a scene. post-feelings, they are going to have some internal suffering and maybe staring at mc longingly from across the ballroom as they try to figure out what they should do. Might cut in to avoid a bad situation and then feel really awkward afterwards bc they've cut in for selfish reasons and now don't know what to do about it. Might just leave out of embarrassment.

Lilith/Lucien: Petty about it either way. They might debate about stepping in at first and then very quickly lose that self-debate—if one even occurred at all—and scare away the noble, which wouldn't be hard considering L's reputation in Celestyl. They’d be pretty smug about having your undivided attention. They tend to pout if you choose someone else over them, depending on the situation.

[grawlix-ness]

The Big Sleet and Dingo Headcanon Post V2!

Bear in mind this is largely a collection of subconscious Notes app ramblings I’ve patched together so I may have made a few grammatical boo-boos or repeated myself here and there. It’s almost 4AM, I’m sure I’ve missed things. I’ll continue to add and edit this post should more ideas come to mind. Questions encouraged!

Cw: light implications of child neglect, mentions of drinking and mutant body horror

🔫 Sleet 🔪

Sleet was raised in the gutter. He knows a fair bit more than the average Lower Mobotropolis street urchin because his mom was an aristocrat until she was slandered by her peers and booted from high society. She taught him the essentials, and he learned everything else from scavenging library books. Presently, his education has all but fallen through the cracks. He tries to avoid reading most of the time. What will Dingo think if he learns he’s not the uber-genius he makes himself out to be? Why does he care what Dingo thinks? When such thoughts arise, they are pushed away and buried.

He has cybernetic implants to aid with frequent aches and muscle strain. In the winter, he struggles due to a lower cold threshold, the result of a fur and skin condition. Dingo knits sweaters for him. They’re oversized and kind of a mess. On particularly glacial nights, Sleet isn't averse to sharing warmth, willing to cuddle up and be the little spoon, so long as Dingo promises not to tell anyone. 

He had no friends growing up and was often picked on. His ailments and interest in science made him an easy target. Some of his peers disliked him on the very principle of him having an ex-aristocrat mother. This made him prickly and distant. While others played kickball or tag, he was tinkering with junkyard machinery or eavesdropping around spacer hangouts, dreaming of someday getting off planet and flying to a world that’d understand him. 

He’s quite good with a needle and thread and tailors his and Dingo’s ball outfits himself. Sleet gets his sewing skills from his mother. She was the personal outfitter and trusted right hand of an important noblewoman. As a pup, he adored listening to his mother’s stories of galas and masquerades. During such fleeting moments of peace, she’d also make costumes for him. He still heavily enjoys fashion, having a closet dedicated to fancy capes. 

Sometime in his tumultuous childhood, Sleet discovered there was an Honor Guard. He admired their outfits and swordsmanship. Most of all he wanted to join so he and his mother could live in the warmth and safety of a castle. He even fashioned a costume out of his mother’s fabric scraps, complete with a sword made from a rusted metal pipe. She was quick to dash those dreams and didn’t take kindly to him borrowing her things, especially not for such a “ridiculous” project. During lonesome, existential nights he wonders how differently things could have turned out if he had become a member of the guard after all. 

When his mother was absent or too volatile to be around, Sleet found company in local mechanics.  He learned how to swindle and cheat with the best of them. One shop owner actually took him under her wing, viewing his perceived weaknesses as strengths. 

Sleet first developed the transmogrifier as a kid. He used it not only to defend himself against the local rabble rousers and humiliate them. It wasn’t a complete success, only partially transforming targets, giving them wings or eyestalks and other unwieldy appendages. Transformations were temporary. No less horrifying however. 

He calls himself a jack of all trades. This title is dubious. Thanks to an enriching education from the school of hard knocks, he does have an approximate knowledge regarding a variety of things, though it’s usually limited to topics relating to self-preservation and chicanery. 

Animals don’t like Sleet and aren’t afraid to let him know. It’s become a standing joke. Dingo teases him for it, despite the fact that, because of his stature, toothy countenance, and tendency to squeeze or pet too hard, he isn’t the best with animals either. 

Sleet is a skilled marksman. He prefers distance, specializing in both handguns and long guns. If the weight class is right and the odds are in his favor, he can hold his own in close quarters using an array of hidden fighting knives and some rudimentary martial arts. Sleet simply won’t hear that his cape is a hindrance, even when this has been proven multiple times. All that being said, Sleet is more of a fleer than a fighter. He is an unabashed coward, not opposed to unning away screaming with his tail between his legs. 

While preferring motorcycles, he’s not half bad at riding animal mounts, thanks to the teachings of cowboy bounty hunter and old flame Fleabyte. It is serendipitous that he’s acquired this ability, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to stay on as well after zapping Dingo into a beast of burden. The poor brute has heard a lifetime’s worth of ass jokes from his rider. 

He enjoys strategizing and has free time stored away solely for scheming purposes. These lovingly-crafted plans generally go awry due to Dingo’s haphazard, devil-may-care nature and forgetfulness. That’s not to say Sleet would do better in the bounty hunting business on his own. He has the upper body strength of a wet noodle and a predilection for monologues and theatrics. He needs someone to shake him out of these ego trances.

Sleet uses his hands often when talking. Lots of flourishes and waves, tapping his chin as he feigns uncertainty, balling his fists and involuntarily shaking them when incensed. Little itchy, twitchy movements. Dingo finds it most endearing. 

Though tech-savvy and clever, his anger and pride sometimes get the best of him, leading him to make less than wise decisions, such as forcing machines past their breaking points or abandoning plans the moment his buttons are pushed. 

Sleet is not good at maintaining his hygiene, hence the hedgehogs’ odor-themed jabs. He'll polish and shine his armor until it glistens, yet giving the suit an interior deep clean is far from his mind. He's become so dependent on the power high and protection the suit gives him that he rarely takes it off. Dingo found this strange and a little concerning at first, but Sleet has convinced him that a good bounty hunter is always prepared in case of ambush. The thick polluted air of Robotropolis doesn't do any favors for his mangy fur coat either. So if anyone's a flea hotel, it's Sleet, though you’d be hard-pressed to find any fleas that’d give his scrawny hide the time of day.

Underneath that armor, he wears a black one-piece bodysuit  made of a silky, breathable material, more resilient than it appears. Sleet is skin and bones. It’s why he prefers working with a partner. He went through—or rather left for dead—dozens of other partners before finding a suitable match. Dingo’s hardy. Sturdy. Loyal. Revoltingly sweet. He’s an intriguing oddity to him. Dingo could easily kill him and yet he doesn’t. For a time Sleet wondered if he was just too dim to ever consider betrayal. 

He’s not big on displays of affection or people entering his personal bubble. However, when traversing through big crowds, he always presses close to Dingo, sometimes even reaches for his hand. 

Considers himself sophisticated. He’ll generally greet with a low bow and flourish, allies and enemies alike. Has neat freak tendencies, despite the fact he’s a hot mess himself.  In short, rules for thee, but not for me. There’s often a mental tug of war between his debonair self and the mouth-frothing sewer rat that lies deeper beneath. 

Sleet has a bad habit of late night tinkering.  He isn’t actively trying to be a night owl, time gets away from him. If Dingo doesn’t carry him off to bed beforehand, he ends up hunched over and asleep at his study. It does no favors for his already poor posture and eye bags. 

His reputation precedes him. When he freelanced, many bounty hunters steered clear of him because he was a noted cheat that backstabbed his partners. Despite these unsavory exploits, he manages to reel in even the most disconcerting of clients via ingratiation, boasting a nigh supernatural silver tongue. Those who’ve been tricked by him before cite his wordsmithing as being almost hypnotic. 

He tries his damndest not to acknowledge Dingo’s gaga eyes and honey glow cheeks. More times than one would deem platonic, he’s gotten distracted by Dingo’s chest. Though, to his credit, it’s hard not to when your co-pilot’s almost always shirtless and idly flexing his muscles. Even harder when you’re pinned beneath his chest—Dingo could make tripping over his feet a professional sport. 

💪 Dingo 🧬

Dingo has a sizable extended family, a horde of siblings and cousins back home. His destructive tendencies came as no shock to his aunts who raised him, since the family business used to be organized crime. The syndicate disintegrated long before Dingo was born, other groups like the Toad Warriors and Bear Pack Bikers quickly outcompeting them. 

Has no memory of his mother or father and holds no ill-will towards them. He has plenty of wild theories about their disappearance though. Everything from being lost at sea to being flattened by an asteroid. Whatever it was, he’s convinced it must have been legendary.

Of his litter he is the eldest brother. Barring fur color, none of his family look quite like him. His spots and flopped ear are noted recessive traits. His more dramatic features are the result of an understudied mutant gene. Nobody’s sure where in the family tree it came from. So far as Sleet can glean, it’s one in a billion, a title Dingo wears proudly. He isn’t interested in making connections with any long lost relatives, fearing there could be someone out there better than him at all things mutant. 

Dingo grew up in the outback of Trailius, quite some distance away from the hustle and bustle of Mobotropolis. He was a rambunctious, often rude and aggressive child. A typical schoolyard bully. Sometimes he would lament over his appearance and wish other kids invited him to play, but those moments were short-lived. Fortunately for his peers he could be easily tricked or bribed with sweets. 

Whereas Sleet took up inventing and sewing, Dingo loved throwing his weight around and exploring the great outdoors, wrestling every beast he came across and scaring vacationing campers late at night by pretending to be a Mobian-eating monster. 

In pursuit on foot, Dingo is bad at maneuvering sharp turns. His topheaviness and clumsy feet have cost a number of hunts. 

He has a sweet tooth. One thing he appreciates about the aristocracy is their love of extravagant desserts. 

He is very naïve and trusting. It was worse when Sleet wasn’t in the picture to talk him out of things. A country boy in the big city, Dingo was scammed out of a lot of his Mobium when he first arrived in Lower Mobotropolis. The shell game was just too alluring. 

Dingo is not so oblivious that he can’t rebuke Sleet’s gratuitous blaming. He can be sassy. Those who’ve had the displeasure of working with them can attest that, when tensions are high, they have the propensity to bicker like an old married couple. 

For someone who was raised in Trailius, he is unusually afraid of spiders and other crawly arachnids. He doesn’t enjoy turning into insects either, finding the overall sensation, in his words, icky. 

Transformation is typically painless. He tends to be sore after taking on the more abstract forms. If the strain is really bad, he will go to Sleet and ask to be massaged. Sleet used to refuse, but he has since humored him, asserting that he’s only doing it to check for signs of molecular decay. 

Dingo can morph without the assistance of the transmogrifier, though the process is slower. It depends on how distant taxonomically-speaking the chosen form is from his mammalian base. These transformations are not too pleasant visually or audially, so the remote is preferred.

Dingo’s mutant abilities have some drawbacks. Because of his rapid healing, his body will try to stop him from getting tipsy and keep him on his A-game.  He has to drink by the barrel to feel even the slightest buzz. Additionally, being stuck in one form for too long can leave him achy and disoriented, and if he changes too frequently his molecules buckle and unravel. It’s not a pretty sight. Sleet even theorizes that if he’s in a form for over two hours, he will get stuck that way. They have had close calls before, where after finally being turned back from a Mobini, some behavioral traits of the animal lingered.

Before meeting Sleet, Dingo could only morph if he remained focused, and those transformations were generally simple, such as limb multiplication or extension. The transmogrifier effectively glues his molecules together, meaning he doesn’t have to exert his concentration anymore. Colors are still somewhat of a challenge, tinted with his default orange. Nevertheless, he fools the untrained eye. When tasked with disguising as another Mobian, Sleet coaches him and will always supply him with a hidden microphone. 

After an especially big transformation, Dingo becomes so drowsy he can hardly stand. All that molecular stretching and rearranging, it’s draining. When he wakes, he is insatiably hungry. Which is saying a lot because Dingo already packs food away like it’s nothing due to his bulking regime. 

His accelerated metabolism often manifests in odd cravings, such as tuna and peanut butter sandwiches or pickle and pineapple ice cream sundaes. Sleet wishes he’d partake in his experimental cuisine somewhere else. Preferably out of the Red Whiptail’s cockpit—he gets crumbs everywhere. Despite being an extreme omnivore, Dingo cannot handle spicy food.

When he’s not making unusual combinations, and in turn making Sleet’s stomach churn, Dingo’s a decent chef. Messy, but decent. He’s the more culinarily adept of the two and makes dinner when time allows. 

He likes scrapbooking. Dingo has more stationary and cute pens than he knows what to do with. Unfortunately he’s heavy-handed, so many of his supplies are worn with love. He keeps mementos of every successful hunt. Little knick knacks and trinkets, maybe the occasional tooth from a beaten adversary.

Not necessarily a couch potato, though does spend most of his downtime lounging in front of the TV. He enjoys playing video games, although he’s not very good at them on account of his itchy trigger finger skipping past tutorial levels.  As long as he can shoot or smash things or toss chubby penguins off cliffs, he’s happy. He watches mainly big loud action movies, corny rom-coms, and slapstick cartoons. Sleet believes his screen time will rot the little left of his brain, though he has shown some interest in the historical Delmontian dramas Dingo skips past while channel surfing.

Has been known to boast quite the sailor mouth. It doesn’t happen often, the most foul only invoked for particularly painful offenses like stubbing a toe. Sleet doesn’t know what half the Trailian swears mean and at this point he’s afraid to ask.

Dingo does not like shirts. He especially hates the tuxedos and dresses Sleet makes him wear whenever there’s a bounty on an aristocrat. He tries to keep his grumbling to a minimum because dressing up makes Sleet happy. In casual settings, if more than his shorts is outright necessary, he’ll wear a quippy graphic tank top.

When they go out of town, Dingo always hits up a tourist trap or two, no matter how blatantly overpriced or mind-numbing. He’s a big fan of carnivals and amusement parks. Dingo’s demolished many strength tester games and would most assuredly be banned if he wasn't one of Robotnik's hirelings.

Not the sharpest tool in the shed, true, but he is definitely the more emotionally aware of the duo. When it comes to personal matters, he’s a good listener.

He has a twinge of separation anxiety. It’s not super debilitating, he just gets restless if Sleet is away for long. He can be possessive. This proves a problem whenever Sleet goes Casanova Mode to retrieve information from targets. It’s worth noting Sleet has moments of jealousy too when Dingo manages to hit it off with others, though he’d never admit it.

The hedgehog triplets are aware of Dingo’s crush on Sleet. To catch him off guard, they’ll sometimes slyly allude to it, much to a flustered Dingo’s chagrin.

Finds Sleet’s voice very soothing. It’s so soft and muted. He could listen to it all day. Often he does since, while certainly less exuberant than Dingo, Sleet can be a chatterbox when it comes to aristocratic gossip and comparing blaster models.

Despite being certifiably canine, Dingo makes all manner of noises. He snorts and huffs like a bull when upset and can unleash fearsome, leonine roars. When happy, he rumbles. 

Excitable. Liable to break the nearest object in vicinity from pure exuberation. 

Dingo can’t see well without his glasses. Despite the swanky look, they are in fact prescription. If they’re misplaced or knocked off by a meddlesome hedgehog, his clumsiness is increased tenfold. He is gentle when handling them. 

Dingo wears a bracer on his right leg. In a comedy of errors, he injured his leg as a pup while playing with a slingshot. For reasons unknown, his healing factor neglected to kick in. His knee aches at times. Dingo mostly wears it because he finds it cool and fashionable. 

His fighting knowledge is limited to the concept of hitting, hitting hard, and hitting dirty. He has no formal training, relying on instinct and what he’s seen on television to best enemies. His moves are sloppy and unrefined, but no less formidable. As a mutant shapeshifter, he’s also granted a number of potential forms. Even without Sleet’s transmogrifier, his elasticity allows him to grow in size and turn his arms into whipping tentacles or his hands into mallets. He could finish fights before they even start with this power, however Dingo prefers to milk his battles for all their worth. Some Freedom Fighters have reported seeing him actually play with the battered and unconscious like they’re dolls. 

He is actually well-kempt all things considered. Dingo enjoys bubble baths and singing—or caterwauling, as Sleet calls it—in the shower. His fur coat is soft and surprisingly dense, especially in the winter when it grows out. He sheds and has to brush himself fairly often. If he’s in a good mood, Sleet will help. The mastiff-like skin folds around his neck also have to be cleaned regularly. His mane is naturally bristly, akin to that of a wild boar. It softens somewhat after a good shampoo.

Dingo makes the first moves. He is usually the one who initiates. Trouble is, if it doesn’t involve flexing his guns or pulling a smoldering expression, Dingo’s bad at flirting. His word choice is . . . unique. Lummox that he is, his compliments come across more like threats. Turns out Sleet does not in fact appreciate being called small, fragile, and edible among other things. He’s since tried to alleviate this by writing down pick-up lines on his hand. 

Dingo’s definitely the more doggish of the two. He wags his tail, something seen as uncouth in aristocratic social circles and immature in most other places. He’s wounded himself on occasions by wagging so hard. Dingo also barks when he gets too excited or surprised and, due to his muzzle structure, is predisposed to drooling. If Dingo is proving particularly stubborn about going into a death trap or being used as bait, Sleet can convince him with a scritch between the ears. 

Additional Information

Their partnership was bumpy at first. Their differing personalities clashed and sometimes led to physical altercations. Nothing too dramatic of course, they are still cartoon animals after all. Dingo pulled his punches. Sleet might have been a nag, but he didn’t want to see him hurt.

Sleet and Dingo are both bisexual. Dingo has a slight preference towards men and masc folks. Sleet is trans. He performed his top surgery himself. Despite the quality of the tools he had at the time, his scars have healed remarkably well.

The two are very competitive. Before being hired by Robotnik, on particularly uneventful nights they played board games. They’re both cheaters so they went around in circles for hours. Lots of yelling, finger pointing, and eventually falling into a heap on the floor because they stayed awake all night trying to psyche each other out.

When they manage to squeeze any free time out of their schedule, they enjoy going to arcades and stealing prizes from kids. They also like to take potshots at the irradiated wildlife on the outskirts of Robotropolis and do prank calls—the Robotnik Intelligence Agency being a favorite victim.

Dingo believes that Sleet’s love language is mockery. That might not be too far from the truth. Sleet genuinely doesn’t know how to express himself. He doesn’t altogether know if he wants to. Sleet’s trained himself to think the worst of everyone so he’s not disappointed or hurt in the long run. In truth, Sleet appreciates acts of service. Dingo’s love language is considerably more simple, as things regarding Dingo so often are. Dingo’s huggy, nuzzly, altogether physically affectionate.

Sleet snores terribly. It’s not so much the volume as it is the whistling his nose makes. He’ll never admit to it, and gets flustered whenever Dingo tells him. Fortunately the walls of Robotnik’s fortress are thicker than those of their previous abodes, giving Dingo the chance to rest easy.

Dingo doesn’t understand mirrors. Sleet, egotist that he is, rather likes mirrors. He hasn’t owned any since the incident. It’d be a hassle to clean up glass and find a replacement everytime Dingo popped his head into Sleet’s quarters. Sleet has explained how reflections work to him several times before, yet it never seems to stick.

In his default state, Dingo has a strongman build. Sleet is a beanpole. Without his boots and shoulderpads, he’s slightly shorter than Dingo.

As far as affairs of the heart go, their relationship is unspoken. Dingo’s doing all he can, Sleet pretends he doesn’t see it, as on principle he believes love is for fools. There may or may not have been some wild nights where he had too much wine and slurred a few things suggesting otherwise however. He’s softening up to the idea, even if he doesn’t know it yet. In essence, he’s perpetually stuck in a “I Won’t Say (I’m In Love)” loop, because he’s a shitty little tsundere.

[punisheye]

Nicholas D. Wolfwood (Trigun Maximum) Permanent Plotter Ad

Been meaning to write one of these for a while, so here it goes.

Liking this basically means you're interested in writing with me, and I'm free to reach out to you whenever. I know some people are shy about reaching out first, so I'd like to give people the opportunity to show their interest!

Content warnings: human experimentation (mostly on children), child abuse, religious trauma, suicide, cults, drug and alcohol usage, murder (just death in general), and graphic violence.

A run-down of Wolfwood as a person is: he's a pretty blunt guy, verging on tactless much of the time. He doesn't care for beating around the bush. Still, despite his rough demeanor and foul mouth he still goes out of his way to help other people if they need it. His time in Spirale has definitely softened those edges, just a bit—but years of trauma don't just magically disappear. He can still be prickly and hairtrigger if someone tries to pry too much into his business, and is relatively closed off unless you've managed to get close enough to him. And while he's been very good at not killing anyone while he's been here, he has no reservations about knocking someone out if necessary.

He's very good with children and doesn't hesitate to take on an older sibling or guardian role if they need it. While he's got a soft spot for all children, he's a bit more firm with teenagers.

Your character may recognize him from his business, Café December, if they're the type to frequent coffee shops. Or maybe they'd recognize him from his time as a bartender in Club Euphoria. He was also on TV pretty recently in a death match alongside the other Wolfwood, fighting the shadowy versions of themselves. But also your character doesn't need to recognize him at all!

While he doesn't carry his cross around all the time anymore, he's begun carrying his handgun with him again, but keeps it concealed.

Relationship guidelines:

Friends: Would love to have him make more friends outside of the few he's had for a while, since a lot of his friendships are localized within the Trigun cast and I'd love for him to branch out and learn more about other people and their very different worlds. While it's hard to become close friends with him, it's always fun to put in the work to develop that relationship!

Familial: Wolfwood grew up a big brother figure and is a natural caregiver and protector. If your younger muse needs some sort of guardian to help them along, he'd probably fill that role without even meaning to.

Enemies: 🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫💣💣💣💥💥💥💥💥

I'm fine with pre-established stuff if we wanna skip an introduction thread, also.

anyway like this post if you're down to clown

[sphinxlosestheirmind]

I swear I’m writing the fic- but more thoughts about it while I write~!!

I think that since they’re real people in this universe their ship names would change. Real-people fandoms seem to use their actual names fused together, so that’s how I think it would work in this au (meaning instead of gimmickshipping they’d be called like Reimaser or smth because I think that’s funny!!

Also yeah, Reiji and Thomas WOULD use their names or Thomas would at least have it somewhat public despite going by IV, but Ryoken is only known as Revolver. I just think that fits him better.

Anyway I also love assigning people emojis so here’s me doing that for just a few characters:

IV : 🪆OR 🧵 (The doll because like that’s sort of his puppet thing? I don’t have a puppet emoji so :/. The thread is symbolic of strings- like puppet strings. I don’t really know with him. His I did last and I feel least confident about).

Reiji : 📏 (Businessman!! I think this one was probably Thomas’ fault, he probably used this at one point in his videos and accidentally locked the fandom onto it).

Revolver : 🔫 (Revolver. Gun. Thank you).

Nasch : 👑 (Because he’s a king.. also Thomas HATES that he got this so much. There is so much beef between them for awhile but no one knows why. They settle it eventually off camera and come back way more chill with each other but neither will give a proper explanation as to why, so their followers are left scrambling).

Durbe : 🪽 (Because of his horse/pegasus!!!)

Merag : ❄️ (Because she’s icy. I think this one is probably started by Nasch? He becomes popular before her, and maybe he calls her icy/an ice queen or something and everyone picks up on that then assigns her with a snowflake).

Vector : 🎭 (He’s two-faced c:. He probably does those stupid public pranks/interviews. Everyone hates him but he’s also annoyingly funny and does those impulsive things that you’d never do but kind of wish you could).

Yuya : ✨ (Yes okay I get that he’s a tomato, but like I think a star/shine would just fit him better? Especially since in this au he’d be like a performer or someone who does tricks- but I could see a tomato so.. 🍅).

Additionally about Thomas in this au:

Thomas is a YouTuber/streamer. He started with gaming content and kept his persona very gentlemanly and polite. He got extremely popular, though more so with men who were interested in that sort of good-guy stuff. This devolved into him starting to show more of a sadistic side and collabing with other creators (Nasch, Kaito, etc) then pulling in their followers a bit. This developed into him somewhat coming out? I think he’d do it in a quiet way in some sort of unpopular podcast or something that makes it ambiguous to what he actually is but also hints at it.

This leads to a bunch of queer people coming into his community seeing as he’s like- one of them haha. He starts doing more daily/vlog type things.

So how I actually am writing him:

He’s a bit more calm around the two of them (Reiji + Ryoken) I think because he almost sort of has to be the one to keep them on a straight path. Both are very headstrong and get lost in other things so he has to lead them to where they’re going- otherwise they completely devolve into some other random thing.

He’s also a mix of gentlemanly yet manic. He’s not completely one way or another, and he can play up either side when it comes down to it.

Anyway.. just some thoughts haha

[merge-conflict]

🔫 FREEZE this is a STICKUP

gimme 5 great lines that you wrote (whether you’ve posted them or not) and 5 great lines someone else wrote (whether published or fanfic) and nobody gets hurt!!

🙌

‼️okay!! I am complying!! :3 Going to start with great lines someone else wrote, and I've used published authors because it is so much easier to just open up my kindle bookmarks on some recent books and pick out lines from some of my favorite books:

"The problem with sending messages was that people responded to them, which meant one had to write more messages in reply." - (Arkady Martine, A Memory Called Empire, Chapter 6)

"I said 'I need to check the perimeter,' and managed to turn and leave the crew area in a totally normal way and not like I was fleeing from a bunch of giant hostiles." - (Martha Wells, All Systems Red, Chapter 2)

"Emil could seem astonishingly harmless, but he did not look harmless at that moment." - (Laurie Marks, Fire Logic, Chapter 16)

"I mean, if I were thirty years younger– if I were twenty-five years younger– if I were eighteen years younger – God, if I were just ten years younger– if I were a year and a day younger– If I were a month younger– if you'd asked me just five minutes ago, four and a half even, if I'd just picked up on the first ring instead of the third, I'd transition." - (Daniel Lavery, Something That May Shock and Discredit You, Interlude XVI: Did You Know That Athena Used to Be a Tomboy?)

"I already pictured this sweet and mediocre girl saying something uninteresting like Oh, nooooo, oh my God, and I already knew part of me would be looking at her and thinking: You've never murdered for me." - (Gillian Flynn, Gone Girl, Nick Dunne: The Night of the Return)

and now some of the lines i've written that i like >.<

"Privately, V thought he might sound less bitter if he ate something, but the sudden influx of calories had imparted her with the newfound sense of patience and wisdom not to mention this out loud." �� (the damn things overlap, syn,syn-ack,ack)

"There are springs digging into his ribs, and the wheezing air conditioner feels more like the fan in an oven, but Kerry falls asleep almost as his head hits the pillow and wakes to the bright gleam of the moon through the curtains and the sound of quiet conversation." (fleeting fits of reason, as long as we stay in this bed)

"She doesn't want to be this way, but she is." (thread-safe, four of swords: iamundernodisguise)

"No V, no Hand, just him." (the damn things overlap, old devils)

"His body staggers to the window as he drifts somewhere behind, lost, bewildered by the strange feeling his corpse has a mind of its own." - (let me die on stage singing the last song I know)

[infernal-feminae]

RP Wishlist

Carmilla visiting Husk's casino when he was still in power, or just seeing him again several years. Bottom line, I need more Husk and Carmilla interactions.

Do more things in Emily's Fallen/Broken verse.

More interactions with any sins and my secretary OCs? 👉👈

Gimme your Vals for Niffty 🔫

I have a MIGHTY NEED for a thread where Carmilla dances with someone. Bonus points if there sexual tension. (+super extra bonus points if its also with someone she hates)

My Overlord OCs interacting with other Overlord muses.

Also been craving some more threads with Carmilla interacting with the sins and Vees.

Also would love a thread if any Overlords remember Phoenix from her reign as an Overlord

Actually start doing things in Agent Two's Sinner verse.

I'm also interested in Carmilla interacting with Striker too ngl

[marinerainbow]

The sentence thing!! I wasn't sure if you wanted x reader or not but since that's my only specialty, I'm going with that 😅😅 Of course you don't have to do them all- I'm just giving you options! ^^ You don't even have to do any if you aren't inspired by them!!

Just sit in Stupid's lap, they said, there ain't no more seats.

"Hmmm, I wonder if my soul can be sewed back on... like Peter's shadow... " Psycho wonders allowed, looking meaningfully to you with those big eyes before they flicker over to your sewing box, "Its worth a try I think!!"

You didn't even need to look when your coworkers exclaimed that there was a zoot suit wearing wierdo outside with a 'Forgive me?' sign, you just continued on typing like normal; Greasy's going to have to try harder then that after the stunt he pulled.

"... damn," Wheezy huffed, on his knees and concentrated on the fabric sticking to your thighs, "'s much as I love this dress, Y/N, y' need to invest in some easier clothes to get out of."

You couldn't even think as you watched Smartass leave for the day- you just had the worst feeling, something in you screaming inside... screaming that he absolutely should not leave that day, that you shouldn't let him; That you should hug him harder while you can.

Thank you so much! These were so fun to do! Even if Wheezy's got me bad 🔫. I hope you like them! (Whether they're humanoid or weasel toons in these, you decide! ^^)

Also I kinda cheated with these- IT'S SO HARD JUST STICKING WITH ONE SENTENCE! So I tweaked so it's more like paragraphs instead- I STILL TRIED MAKING THEM ONE SENTENCE THOUGH... And Smartass and Greasy got one more paragraph 😅

~

You were completely gobsmacked when the others suggested that so casually- and Stupid didn't seem to mind it either, he just smiled like a doofus and waved to you from his spot on the couch!

Well... ok, if they insist and Stupid is ok with it... But Greasy better not make any jokes! You know where Smartass keeps the spray bottle!

You didn't even have to say anything when you approached him awkwardly, he just plucked you up and sat you down with him without a word, "Here 'ya go! We can share the bowl!"

You just nodded with a vague, "Uh-Huh..." as you process everything going on; it's not like anything dirty was happening, everyone else was invested in the movie, and it was just you that was anxious... Then again nobody else here had a big fat crush on this loveable dork like you did, so... Yeah.

It wasn't until Stupid offered you the movie snack, which you just now noticed was specifically (favorite movie snack), did you just smile back at him, accept the food, and focused on enjoying the moment with him.

~

What the- "How is that going to work!?" You think in panic, glancing between Psycho's soul and his... Body, laying on the floor right where he fell over, "Souls! They... Th-They aren't tangible like your body! I can just push my hand through you right now! How will the thread stay in place!? And sewing you on your body isn't the same as putting your soul back in your corpse!"

Oh God, why did you tell him that joke? Why did he laugh so hard at it!? It wasn't even that funny! It was stupid! That was exactly why you felt it was safe enough to tell it! Did that say more about you, your boyfriend's sense of humor, or the joke itself? How was Smartass going to react knowing you killed Psycho?? Why wasn't Psycho mad at you for killing him!?!? Oh God, what were you going to do? What if-

"Y/N! Y/N! Look!"

You blinked and looked back up towards Psycho, who, without breaking eye contact... pushed your cup off of the coffee table, proving that his soul- somehow- still was physical, so you could theoretically speaking, sew it onto his body...

"... Alright." You say before grabbing your sewing kit, ignoring his excited cheer and trying to keep calm, "But I'm not really steady right now, so it's your job to make absolutely sure you're aligned with your body, ok? I don't want to sew your hand to your foot or something..."

~

"Uh... Y/N? I don't think he's going away..." Your coworker added, an unnerved edge in her voice.

"Just ignore him. The more attention you give him, the worse he gets." Was all you had to say to that, speaking from your own experience with the... Well, it's in his name!

It wasn't until another one of your coworkers told you that the 'weirdo' seemed to be trying to come inside, did you groan and swivel your chair around towards the window, to see your 'casanova' desperately trying to open the door to your workplace... By pushing it instead of pulling it open, despite what the sign clearly stated... God he was an idiot sometimes.

"Ok, this has gone on far enough..." You mutter to yourself as you curtly stand up and storm over to the door, roughly pushing it open and causing Greasy to topple back and land on his behind... You choose to ignore your guilt and cross your arms, "You're not gaining my forgiveness this way, so leave."

The gangster looked wide-eyed and slack jawed at you- and the door, seems like he finally noticed the sign- before scrambling up and dusting himself off, "Y/N! Mi vida! Please, I just need to-"

You promptly close the door on him, ignoring how he looked like a betrayed house cat at the front door, and walk back to your desk; maybe you'd let him talk later, but you were too mad right now.

~

You couldn't stop the chuckle leaving your lips as you let your boyfriend suffer just a little bit longer with your dress, "I thought you liked a little challenge~"

"Tch, I wouldn't really describe it like that..." Was Wheezy's response, the smoke billowing from the corners of his lips as he glanced up at you, finally asking you- silently- for help after so long of fumbling with your dress.

Hm... "Nope. You gotta figure it out yourself, honey. Can't do the work for you after all."

He narrows his steely blue eyes at you, though you could see a hint of amusement behind them as he went back to work, "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you planned this, princess."

"Now, why would you think tha-" You suddenly cut yourself off when you felt the air hit your now bare thighs, your knees suddenly feeling weak when you see the triumphant- and promise of some revenge after your little stunt- smirk on your partners' lips.

~

"... Wait!" You called out as you ran after him, just before he closed the front door of your new home, in the human side of Los Angeles, "Please, you can't go!"

The boss sighs, having already heard your worries the night before, "Y/N, this is the last job Doom needs us to do. We can't exactly skip out on him now-"

"Babe, please. You know how dangerous this is. Just stay home." You tried to plead with Smartass, your wide eyes staring straight into his own as you took his hand in yours; using every trick you knew to convince him to stay, "All it takes is a little slip near the dip, and you... You could..."

"Hey there, c'mon, you know we'll be fine." Where the others couldn't see, he offers you a tender, comforting smile as he brushes a stray hair strand behind your ear, "I ain't letting these maroons dip themselves on my watch. And if the judge tries to throw us under the bus, we'll be ready... You just stay here, and think about the new life waiting for us tomorrow."

... He's so confident that this plan of Doom's will work, that the two of you and his gang will have the freedom to do whatever you please once all the toons are gone- and, like the many times before, it's enough to convince yourself to ignore the growing dread you feel and watch Smartass and his team load up in the van before driving off.

It's alright, you'll see your boys tomorrow, just like Smarty promised... You have to...

~

I hope you liked this! I wanted to put in as much detail as I could without breaking the rules more than I already have. Hopefully I was successful XD

[reading-giraffe]

Nocticadia: Review

AMAZON

🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️

Lilia Vespertine is a diamond in the rough: beautiful, intelligent, resilient, impoverished, and traumatized from losing her mother to a horrific incident. She finds herself strolling onto Dracadia University's campus on a red carpet that various university staff have laid down for her, seemingly thread-by-thread. While studying at Dracadia, Lilia investigates her mother's death and starts connecting the dots in this book's thoroughly fleshed-out and interconnected plotline. Devryck Bramwell, one of the professors, is dark, mysterious, and is one of the only human beings alive who could help Lilia figure out what happened to her mom. While researching together, Lilia and Devryck get a little ~frisky~ and both of their dark, twisted histories come to light as more twisted together than they ever could have imagined.

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Lilia Vespertine

Having come from a background of poverty and trauma, Lilia is fully aware of where she likely fits into the cogs of the world. She is incredibly resilient and hardworking. After being dealt a sh*tty hand of cards, Lilia has no choice but to take advantage of a crazy opportunity to enroll as a student at one of the nation's top universities. Honestly, she faces questions that so many college girls face -- how do I pay the bills? I was impressed when she took on an on-campus job and research assistantship in addition to a full-time course load. When she decided to try other ~creative~ ways of earning money, my respect for her peaked! Despite committing herself to her sister, mother, studies, work, and research, she somehow had the bandwidth to advocate for her romantic and sexual needs as well. Lilia is the smart, hardworking, loyal, and sexual woman we all strive to be.

Devryck Bramwell

You now, Devryck grew on me. When Keri Lake first introduced him, he seemed like he used his medical condition as an excuse to be an absolute raging prick. Sure, he's privileged with old money, novel research he inhrited from his father, and enough autonomy from the university to do whatever the hell he wants without question. But the moment he started realizing the hardship his most underprivileged student was going through, he went waaaay out of his way to help in the only ways he knew how. Of course, this was only after he scammed her out of her ~other~ way to make money. (I mean really, the least he could have done is pay her for the video 🤷‍♀️) He generally takes a back seat compared to Lilia plot-wise. But Professor Bramwell in the bedroom? HEYOOO he tooootally got off on the professor/student kink even though he kept teasing her about HER liking it. I love a hot, slightly older man who is well-groomed, rich, logical, and "touch her you 💀"-type.

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Would I recommend? 10/10 YES

I wasn't sure what I was getting into with this one -- especially after Haunting Adeline. The plot was way more interesting that I thought it would be, and clearly Keri Lake put a good amount of thought into it. I am impressed with the whole fictional parasitic infection, history of the parasite, how it connects with American colonialism, and modern medicine. I am biased, working in infectious disease. But that should make Lake's work all the more impressive, right?

As far as the 🌶️ goes, SHE'S SPICY. You're not going to get anywhere close to the 🔫 scene in Haunting Adeline, but the spice is just crazy enough without me wondering if I need medication.

Ultimately, I think Nocticadia is a great book as we approach 🕷️👻 spooky season. This was a pretty lengthy read (~700pgs) but plot, spice, character development, and pace was wonderful!

Paperback and hardcover available on AMAZON

If you use my link to purchase the book, I make a tiny commission. Thanks for your support! 🙂

[lucentshore]

. 🐚 ‧₊˚ @ lucentshore.

⋆ ace ftm ˧ it/tides ∙ 20 !

❥ did system & au-adhd disabled .

› our carrd . our content .

alter sideblogs are down there !! ⤵

🦈 ) @bottledsea ꒦꒷ ben !

20 ♡ he/lilac/luxite : our host! call of duty & voltron: legendary defender multifictive. alterhuman, misceanis. reblogs a lot of marine biology and fandom posts. relatively active.

🌾 ) @kaira5 ꒦꒷ venery !

24ish ♡ he/claw/foliage : our co-host! maze runner & mcyt multifictive. therian/kinnie. variety blog. reblogs/interacts with nonsexual kink content; underaged followers need to block the tag "ven 18" or will be blocked themselves from his blog. relatively active.

📚 ) @gatinhos-dejavu ꒦꒷ cellbit !

27 ♡ he/myrs : task completionist & co-host. qsmp fictive. primarily reblogs of source aligned fan content or things that remind him of his loved ones. medium activity.

📡 ) @jc-7274 ꒦꒷ cooper !

adult ♡ he/him : backup host & filler alter. titanfall 2 fictive. reblogs source related content (fan and not), or anything he finds entertaining, or that he resonates with. low activity.

👻 ) @poltergeist141 ꒦꒷ ghost !

adult ♡ he/vir/spirs : emotional and physical protector. call of duty fictive, identifies with the original trilogy. variety blog, not extremely active. reblogs some nsfw content, but nothing that could be considered pornographic. medium to low activity.

🍷 ) @vququ ꒦꒷ caligo !

adult ♡ he/him : sexual protector and informant. bungou stray dogs fictive. primarily reblogs source related posts, but has some variety. has a tag for resources on sexuality & related topics ("role reference notes") that can be blocked OR referenced by followers for education purposes. low activity.

💬 ) @strmysilence ꒦꒷ yuri !

adult ♡ he/him : protector. call of duty mw3 fictive. variety blog, lots of photography, some source related posts. low activity.

🪶 ) @creatoravis ꒦꒷ meraki !

adult ♡ he/aeons : architect, alter protector. mcyt & legend of zelda totk multifictive. lots of minecraft or source related posts, or things that remind aeon of aeons partners or family. medium/low activity.

🧭 ) @buckpunk ꒦꒷ bucky !

adult ♡ he/him : holder role, retired protector & anger alter. mcu fictive, but doesn't engage in most content involving the events of or following after avengers: infinity war. variety blog, lots of source-aligned content. uncomfortable with content of tony stark for comfort reasons. mostly inactive.

🔫 ) @dogtagsections ꒦꒷ david !

age slider ♡ he/him : call of duty black ops fictive. variety blog, "would be source heavy if there was even any fan content for it :(" - low activity but does occasionally queue posts.

🔕 ) @mousebells ꒦꒷ mouse !

adult ♡ they/them : call of duty bocw fictive. variety blog, low emphasis on source content, but requests that russell adler ids or those who consume/rb content of him individually dni. semi-inactive.

🥀 ) @shsl-academate ꒦꒷ ikko !

16 - 19 ♡ he/him : academate, holder, & task assistant. sdr2 fictive; identifies pre-despair. variety blog, does rb some source content, and occasionally rbs agere content. however, his blog is not regressor or syskid safe. mostly inactive.

🏟️ ) @captainmianite ꒦꒷ the captain !

adult ♡ he/him : land of mianite fictive. extremely inactive, acts as a liveblogging thread as the captain (very) slowly works through it, or as an archive for content he wishes to save for himself, mostly for memory purposes.

🌧️ ) @fatestorms ꒦꒷ norn !

adult ♡ she/they : subsystem. hosted by linda, co-hosted by scout. variety posts, including a lot of halo posting. low to medium activity based on how often the subsystem is fronting.

[thetoaddaddy]

send 🔫 to spray my muse with the hose/water gun

(I'll be answering tomoir threads soon as well! Work had me absolutely tired out v.v)

It’s hot as hell out. Jiraiya is annoyed and overheated. Hair pulled up into bun to get the heat off his neck. Hands deep in the dirt. The garden needs work. Kagami likes plants. In theory it sounds like a nice sorta stay at home date.

Then it got so hot he was just gross. Jiraiya naturally runs hot. To pile on a scorching sun and no wind he stopped having a great time. Kagami was okay. Big sun hat, white cast from sunscreen, and cute little shorts that was making the effort worth it. A happy smile on the other’s face as he waters the newly homed plants with the hose. Gah… cute.

Standing up Jiraiya sighs as he shakes off his dirty hands. Sweat is dampening his everything. The garden does look nice at least. Flowers of all kinds of all colours. Bundles, bushes, pots, and climbing. There’s even a berry bush neither of them could resist buying. He nods in approval as he looks over the hard work they did.

“WAH-!” Jiraiya yelps.

His back arches as he seized up. Ice cold water shocked his senses. He turns around to face a giggling Kagami. As his mouth opened he got another douse of cold water. With his shirt soaked he yanks it off.

“You little shit.” He scoffs as he kicks off his flip flops next. They would only slow him down.

His boyfriend won’t be laughing for long as he breaks into a sprint to chase Kagami around. Arms waving out in front of him to cover that pretty pale skin in soil handprints.

[martuzzio]

Soap should get a rest day, methinks. Soap should get to lay down next to Ghost and go snork mimimi while he gently threads his fingers through his hair and they both feel some of the stress and pain and anguish melt away, even just for a moment, methinks.

For the funsies. For the lols if you will.

I love the medieval au so much Make Them Happy 🔫 this is a Threat

Soap might (MIGHT) get a rest day! Or he might work every single day for the rest of his life until the end of his days :) Who knows which one is true!

Will Ghost ever get to thread his fingers through Soap's hair as Soap goes snork mimimi next to him???? Will Soap ever get to lay down at all???? Stay tuned to find out!!!!! :D