#you say hands are hard (they are xd) but you still drew them like the softest little porcelain sculptures ever

[chibishortdeath]

General Simon brainrot sketch page :3, as per usual, explanations under a cut. Apologies if my posts tend to be kinda huge and difficult to scroll past, I try to do the cuts to make sure they do the least inconvenience to anyone! (>-< ;)

Just the whole page in full ft. My thumb lol

Expression practice! Simon is feeling the weight of his situation rn alas :(. I’ve always imagined him being panicked the whole game; the overarching entire game timer really gives a pretty good feeling of dread imo. The two doodles at the bottom were attempts at multiple ideas I’ve seen floating around about the curse, but they’re kinda bad in execution looking at them no tbh. But the first one is based on the idea that the curse gives some vampire traits like sharp teeth and would probably lead to proper vampirism if he were to die from it. The second was general attempt at like skull practice and comparing facial features to skull structure, but oh my god the page kept smudging and I tried making it look ok with some random blood on there but it just made it look even sillier 💀.

These next two are based on two random like liminal space images I ran into on Pinterest and I drew them mostly because I suck at backgrounds and idk Simon’s Quest itself is like Castlevania: Liminal Space Edition a lot of the time, so it fits X,,,,D. The first one I really liked the composition of the path on the far side contrasted to the trees. Imagine the water is the purple cursed swamp :3. Hopefully Simon has laurels just standin around in there.

This second liminal space for Simon to be in was this neat nighttime photo of a graveyard! Trees are HARD TO DRAW, especially just in pencil and a solid black background. There’s blood on the ground and stuff cause he was just fighting some monsters, probably those two headed lizard guys. It’s the awkward stillness after clearing out an area of enemies.

The pose for this one is based on the LOL~lots of laugh Miku figure lmao 💀💀💀

Simon is very fun to put in exaggerated poses! Especially cause you have to exaggerate them more to get the same ratio of pose to negative space because muscles and armor. I had no idea how to make metal belt armor thingies sit in a like legs up floating sort of pose like this so they kinda bend a little weird but eh he looks cute otherwise. The other doodles present are one that says “brainrot” which is kinda making fun of my own dedication to an NES character 💀 and also cause haha rot like the curse. Also, teeny tiny Simon with a heart!!! :3

Yippie! Simon posing again! I think the first pose was inspired by this like random old anime style angel figure??? Idk I think she was just an original character figure and the pose was pretty different, I just used the reference mostly for the arm position. Anyway, he’s vibin, just sitting curled up and momentarily comfy. Alas, the horrors persist in the second doodle that was an attempt at showing how the curse kinda deteriorates him but he just kinda ended up having a scarily snatched waist and it looks more stylized than like sick. Also the armor kinda bends around him in a way that makes it look like it shrunk with him which is so dumb lmaooooo (XwX). I’ll have to revisit the concept eventually idk, just look at his face for this one XD. Hahaha tiny doodle based on Larval Rin on the left there, nothing to see here—

The main doodle is just Simon looking into the distance bewildered and holding the whip, standard stuff. There’s also a side profile doodle and an attempt at drawing crying again cause I was getting kinda rusty at both of those things.

Simon Belmont but if he was 2000s anime lol. A fun little style experiment, I might keep this as like another secondary art style. There’s also some doodles of a hanged man skeleton, the eyes of Vlad, a skeleton hand, and a couple little chibi Simon’s of various expressions.

More 2000s anime Simon, but in a more silly way like the art style change for joke sections. One is him just goofily holding up Dracula’s head, but it’s contrasted immediately with a more gritty usual art style doodle of him with harsh shading lol. Get you a man who can do both I guess 💀

I gotta practice more on backgrounds and composition and stuff, probably also get some curse effects consistent augh. Lately I’ve been on and off working on random things or just staring into space tired, getting back to using social media is hard and an exhausting uphill battle unfortunately (_ _ ;). Sometimes I feel like I should probably split these up into multiple posts to make things more visible and to put more focus on specific drawings, but idk I don’t really want to, it just feels weird to me breaking up a doodle page like that, if that makes sense??? Eh idk.

[skyward-floored]

i don't know if you're willing to take even more requests, so if not, please feel free to ignore this ask ^^ but if you want to, maybe wild's family dealing with the aftermath of him becoming an amputee just a few days ago (totk whump)? thanks!! 💜

I saw “whump” and blacked out and wrote this lol. It’s been too long since I purposefully gave Wild a hard time. Going back to my roots XD

This was supposed to be more focused on his entire family (...and his arm), but I half wrote out a scene and it just didn’t work so only a few of them are there, sorry 😓 I hope you enjoy anyways though! I had fun writing it hehehe.

...And this oneshot is especially ambiguously canon, since we don’t know if Wild truly loses his arm or it just gets it messed up or what in totk. Speculation yay!

(And in case anyone was worried, there are no totk spoilers present in this fic :)

———

Twilight sat at his brother’s bedside in silence, watching his chest go steadily up and down.

The doctors had done everything they could (as had Hyrule) and now all there was to do was wait for Wild to wake up— truly wake up, not just break into the feverish mumbling that had so far marked every time his eyes had opened.

Twilight sighed, and pressed his wrists to his eyes. It was late, ridiculously late, and almost all the rest of his family had gone home to sleep (despite much bargaining and pleading on his younger brothers’ parts), except for himself and his parents.

And Time and Malon had stepped out to talk privately with each other.

Which meant Twilight was left alone with Wild, watching him lie pale and still in his bed, trying not to think about the fact that his brother was missing an arm.

Wild’s face twitched in his sleep, and Twilight ran a hand over his head, brushing a few loose strands of hair from his little brother’s face. He’d known Wild was on a dangerous mission, but he’d been rather busy with his own work, and while he always worried about his family, he knew that Wild could handle himself.

He’d been concerned when it had been almost a week since he’d had any contact with his brother, but he’d kept his worries at bay, rationalizing that the mission was merely taking its time, and Wild would soon be back with a crazy story and a grin to match.

And then he’d gotten the call that his brother had been found half-dead and missing an arm.

Twilight swallowed and looked down at Wild’s bandaged arm, feeling sick.

The few days since Wild had been found had been a blur of terror and waiting and Hyrule pushing himself until he dropped, worries and questions of “what had happened” overcome by the fear that they would never know because Wild might not make it.

They were out of the worst of the danger now, but his brother was still so still, so lifeless. And he looked small where he was laying in the bed, much smaller than any teenager had any right to, and Twilight almost drew blood as he bit his lip.

Wild hadn’t been able to tell anyone where he was going when he left, only shrugging and saying it was “highly confidential”. He’d admitted to Twilight that it had to do with Flora, but that was the only thing any of them knew about his mission.

Whatever it had been though, it was the reason Wild had gotten an extremely private hospital room the moment Time had found him and brought him here, and Twilight couldn’t be more thankful for the privacy.

The door to the room opened, and Twilight watched his parents come in, both with wearied expressions, though Time was hiding his better.

“Any change?” Time asked as he sat down in a chair at Wild’s bedside, and Twilight shrugged.

“Resting a little easier. But... still not great. His arm seems like it’s bothering him,” he admitted quietly. “He woke up a little earlier, but didn’t say anything. He’s been lying still ever since.”

Malon put an arm around Twilight as she sat down next to him, and he leaned into the small hug his mother gave him, no words needed.

They were silent for a minute, but then Wild suddenly twitched in his sleep, a mumble escaping his lips, and Twilight and his parents both leaned forward hopefully.

“Wild?”

Wild shifted, and Twilight held his breath as his brother’s eyelids fluttered. Then Wild opened his eyes, the lids heavy with exhaustion, and Twilight smiled, and heard his parents exhale in relief. They hadn’t seen Wild awake barely at all.

Twilight carefully leaned over Wild and took his hand, and his brother’s eyes opened a little more, looking more lucid than Twilight had seen so far.

“Hey Link,” he said softly, and his brother’s gaze moved to his face. “How are you doing cub?”

Wild breathed out slowly, and closed his eyes for a minute before reopening them, a bit wider this time. He looked around the room, taking in Malon and Time and Twilight as well, and the slightest hint of a smile pulled at his lips.

“Tired,” he admitted in a raspy voice, and a strained chuckle went up from Time. “Really tired. And...”

He shifted a little, and glanced down at his arm, then fell still as he stared at it.

“...oh. Right,” he whispered.

He seemed to pale a bit as Twilight looked at him, and experimentally moved his arm just a little, face lighting up with a wince.

Twilight awkwardly cleared his throat.

“Does it hurt much Wild?” he asked in a gentle voice, but Wild just kept staring at his arm and didn’t reply for several long minutes.

“It feels like its still there,” he said in a low whisper. He didn’t elaborate.

The room fell still for a moment, but Malon didn’t let it last, coming forward and hugging Wild for a long time. Wild returned it as best as he could, and Malon kissed his head before she pulled back and gave him a steady look.

“Are you okay hon?” she asked in a tone that suggested she wouldn’t settle for anything less than the truth. “How much do you remember?”

Wild hesitated, and licked his dry lips, looking uncertain on what exactly to say. He was silent for a long time, eyes on his lap, and Twilight exchanged looks with his father.

“Link?” Time asked softly, and Wild’s face crumpled, his eyes squeezed shut. He breathed in shakily, and Twilight took his hand again, giving it a comforting squeeze while he got ahold of himself.

“I failed,” Wild finally whispered.

What was left of Wild’s arm twitched, and Twilight continued to hold his remaining hand, gently running his thumb along the back.

“I let her fall Twi,” Wild whispered, voice distraught. “I let her fall, I was so close to grabbing her, I...”

He swallowed, and looked at his arm, eyes staring blankly at the stump.

“I failed her.”

Twilight felt something in his stomach churn at the wilt in Wild’s voice, grief sharp in his eyes. He didn’t know what had happened, but for his little brother to come back so wounded and with such utter defeat in his voice...

...what had happened?

“Wild, you did your best,” Time said sternly, putting his hand on Wild’s chin and gently tilting it so that his son was looking at him. “I know you did. I don’t know what happened, but I know for a fact you did all that you could.”

“I was too slow,” Wild croaked, and Twilight could see his eyes starting to water, “I was too slow and she’s gone.”

He squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to keep the tears at bay, and Twilight sat on the bed next to him and pulled his brother into his arms. Twilight felt him swallow, and squeezed him even tighter, Malon leaning forward and running a hand through his hair.

Twilight didn’t have to ask who “she” was.

He had a feeling he already knew.

“Twi, she’s gone,” Wild choked into Twilight’s shoulder, and his brother began to cry, silent sobs that made his whole body shudder.

“It’s not your fault,” Twilight whispered as he rubbed his back, but Wild only pressed his face into his shirt, grief overwhelming his exhausted body and mind.

All his family could do was hold him.

[patchworkgargoyle]

oc fic: i just don't wanna miss you tonight

Posting this for @ockissweek Week Day 1: Almost. This is a prequel to my friend Ger's fic, and then this fic of mine. If you enjoy this one, please consider giving both of those a read too! (Start with Ger's, if you want to go in order.)

For very brief context, we've shoved our oc's into the angstiest mafia!au to cause ourselves pain. It's been fun xD

Featuring Dominik: transmasc OMC, mine Sam: OMC, @steves-strapcollection Rating: E || Words: ~4.8k || CW: some angst, frottage, penetrative sex Title from Iris - The Goo Goo Dolls because an angsty ship isn't complete without this song.

Sam's large hand traced light patterns into Dom's sweaty skin. It was a little funny, Dom thought as those fingers left tingling trails of goosebumps, that hands that have hurt and killed people can be so gentle.

His own were far from innocent too, and hadn’t been nearly as gentle with Sam. Sam's right cheek was still red from being slapped, though, to be fair, he'd asked for it. And Dom left more welts from his nails than usual, and bruises where he’d gripped too hard.

So what if he was grabbier tonight. He had his reasons.

Blunt and calloused fingertips trailed back down Dom's bare thigh, over the sensitive crease of his hip, along a short knife scar on his tummy. He couldn't look at Sam. Just watched his hand wander. It felt like Sam was cataloguing him, memorising his imperfections and tells, and it made him want to squirm uncomfortably under the attention. He held still, though, and distracted himself by thinking over the words he’d been trying to say all night.

Sam broke the silence first.

“You're tense,” he said. His voice was sandpaper-rough.

Dom hated how easily Sam could read him. But he pursed his lips and only gave a clipped hum in response.

Shifting on the wrinkled bed sheets, Sam drew closer and kissed Dom's shoulder. “You're starting to make me worry I didn't fuck you well enough, but you'd bitch me out for it if I didn't.” That made Dom snort, and he could see Sam's triumphant smile in the corner of his eye. “What's going on, sweetheart?”

“I have news.”

Sam's hand stalled, then laid flat on Dom's sternum, broad and comforting. “Bad news or good?” He asked.

“I'm being shipped off to Cuba. Because that Moretti job went so well,” Dom blurted, then cringed at himself internally. He was fucking trained better that that, what the fuck.

When Sam didn't say anything, Dom finally faced him. He’d been lying on his side as they came down, but now he propped himself up on one arm. The smile that made his face so warm was gone, shut behind a tense, neutral mask that Dom instantly despised.

“When.”

Dom didn't want to tell him. He’d almost decided to not tell him at all and just up and leave instead until Vinny yelled at him. Rightfully called him an asshole, especially for waiting this long. But every time Dom tried to tell him, the words got stuck behind the cage of his teeth.

“When, Dominik?”

“In two days.”

Sam shoved himself out of bed. His hand on Dom's chest was a heavy and pressing weight, suddenly lifted, and the absence left him cold. Sam paced a few steps, running a hand through his sex-mussed hair. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He spat, then turned to Dom, not only angry, but hurt. “How long have you known.”

Grinding his teeth, Dom said, “Over a month.”

Sam's lips twitched up in a rigid sneer as he tilted his head to the side. He didn't say what he clearly wanted to, though; he covered his mouth with his palm and dragged it down, eyes unfocused on the middle distance, breathing heavily.

Fuck. He looked wounded. Dom had thought the worst reaction would be some anger, maybe. Not this. The dread he’d felt about telling him was because he thought Sam wouldn't care. Dom's chest filled with a stifling guilt as he silently watched Sam process the information.

“Don't go.”

Sam was still looking away when he said it. The words were muffled behind his palm, but Dom heard them clearly anyway.

“I have to,” he said after a pause. “Orders came from Father Dearest himself.”

Sighing angrily, Sam glared at Dom. “So he, what, rewards a job well done with exile now and you just fucking obey?  Vinny fights back–”

“Yeah, and I'm not Vinny, if you haven't fucking noticed!”

“Of course I–” Sam cut himself, rolling his eyes. “So you're just going. Do you even want to?”

Dom scoffed. “No.”

Sam spread his arms wide, palms held up. “Then don't go!”

“I don't have a choice,” Dom said, desperately keeping his voice flat though he could feel his emotions threatening to shake right out of his body. His fists bunched in the sheets under him, hard enough to strain the fabric. He needed Sam to stop before–

“Yes, you do–”

“No, I don’t!” Dom swung around to sit at the edge of the mattress, gesturing wildly. “I don't want to uproot my whole fucking life. But I can't say no to this!”

“What even fucking happens, Dominik? If you say no?”

“The Moretti’s, and Salvatore, want my fucking head on a pike now, Sam! What do you think happens!?”

Sam’s jaw snapped shut. He was still furious, but Dom saw the fight leaving him in the way his shoulders started to slump and his mouth twitched downward. The sight made Dom ache. Sam looked ruined, standing alone in the middle of his darkened bedroom.

“I’ll protect you,” Sam said, but he sounded hollow. He and Dom both knew that wouldn’t work, and Dom’s dad wouldn’t allow them to work that closely. He shook his head silently. Sam’s lips curled inward and Dom swore he saw a wetness in his eyes before he looked away, scrubbing a hand over his face.

He had no idea this would hit Sam so hard. Shame sat heavy on his chest and there was no way to relieve it. “I’m sorry, darling,” he said softly, and Sam made a pained noise.

“Don’t—don’t call me that right now, for fuck’s sake, Dom.”

“Okay.”

“How long do you have to stay away for?”

Dom shrugged wearily. “I don't know. Until it's safe, I guess. Or dad needs me back home.”

Sam sighed. Hung his head. Slowly, though, his feet brought him back to the bed, back to Dom, who couldn’t help admiring his naked body when he stood so closely. The lamp cast shadows over Sam, turning him into a chiaroscuro painting. A masterpiece of a handsome man in light and dark, strength and sadness. Dom met his gaze, though, and the artwork fell away to the reality of Sam’s stricken face.

Reaching out, Sam tucked a lock of Dom’s thick, unruly hair behind his ear then cupped his cheeks between both palms. His eyes darted down to Dom's lips briefly and he thought Sam was about to try to kiss him, for the first time since he'd been told not to. Sam put a knee between Dom's spread thighs and bent down over him, tilting his chin up, and Dom's heart raced at the thought of what was coming.

He wasn't sure if he'd stop it or not.

But Sam had apparently already made the choice for him. He touched his forehead against Dom's and held him there, eyes closed. Their faces were so close they were almost kissing and Dom’s heart thundered in his ears. He could feel how Sam’s brow furrowed and closed his own eyes so he couldn’t see what he’d done.

“Why didn’t you say something sooner,” Sam whispered.

“Didn’t think you’d care,” he said, matching Sam’s quiet tone.

Sam groaned frustratedly. He gave Dom’s face a gentle squeeze, pulling back so he could give Dom a tired, serious look and said, “You’re a giant fucking idiot.”

Dom grimaced, glancing away when the words stung more than he thought they could. “Fuck off,” he snapped, and half-heartedly tried to jerk away from Sam’s hands. He didn’t go far at all, and Sam’s hands stayed put. “You said when we started fucking that you didn’t get involved, okay? And I don’t either. What else was I supposed to think.”

Frowning thoughtfully, Sam tipped his head in acknowledgement and said distantly, “Yeah… you’re right.” Then he sighed. The only warning Dom got for what came next was a short, “C’mon,” before Sam stooped and hauled Dom up into the air.

He didn’t have time to make a sound before Sam dropped him on the bed properly and stretched out over him, settling between his thighs. The sheer intensity in the way Sam gazed down at him was overwhelming. He almost couldn’t look, but he did, both wanting to run away from and sink into the naked desire he saw in Sam’s face.

“What the hell?” Dom asked, breathless. Sam pressed their bodies together and Dom’s heart sped up.

“I care. Shit, I care so fucking much, Dominik,” Sam said desperately. “Let me show you?”

The tip of Sam’s nose brushed along Dom’s high cheekbone, their lips so close just one movement would bring them together, but Sam tucked his face into Dom’s neck like he always did, and Dom gasped when he felt Sam’s tongue light on his skin, tasting him.

“Yes. Yeah,” was all he could say, and Sam whispered a thank you into his shoulder.

Sam’s hips slowly rolled into Dom’s, dragging his hardening cock along the seam of Dom’s cunt, rubbing against his dick, which was still sensitive from earlier. Dom rocked with him, matching his pace.

Dom had been rough with Sam earlier, but now that Sam took the lead, he kept their movements unhurried. They were grinding into each other until Sam was fully hard, his thick cock leaking precome, coated in Dom’s slick as it slipped between his folds with a wet sound. Dom canted his hips in a way that had their dicks rubbing together, but Sam made sure it was no more than a tease that only built gradually. All the while, Sam was devouring Dom’s neck, licking and kissing and sucking hickies into his pale skin. Dom wrapped a leg behind Sam’s thigh, pulling him closer.

Fuck, he needed to be closer. 

His fingers dug into the meat of Sam’s bicep, his other hand tangled in Sam’s shaggy hair, partially to grab but also to hold him. Dom let his cheek rest on Sam’s head, basically nuzzling him, unable to hide the affection he felt for the older man anymore. Why hold back if this might be the last time they saw each other?

Sam nuzzled back. Pressed a kiss to Dom’s cheek, then asked, “Can you come like this, kitten?”

“Stop fucking calling me that, shit.”

“Can you?”

“What, from humping each other like teenagers?” he laughed.

“Yeah.” Dom felt his smile, heard it in his voice.

“Maybe if you’d stop teasing me with your—oh.”

Dom groaned as Sam ground their cocks together harder, faster, pleasure zinging up Dom’s spine. He arched into it, gasping, and Sam’s smug laughter made him want to dig his nails in. They kept rutting against each other and the pressure built in Dom’s core, the constant drag of Sam’s cock on his lighting him up. He could feel the fucking vein on Sam’s cock rub against him, felt the way he twitched when Dom would make a noise. Sam nearly slipped inside once and Dom clenched around the fat, blunt head of him before Sam went back to grinding and Dom gave a frustrated huff.

He was done with this. He wanted more. He needed Sam inside him.

“Sam, just fuck me already.”

“Nope. Taking my time with you tonight. Want you to feel it, kitten.” As if to prove it, Sam slowed down, though the press of their bodies stayed the same. It was… fuck, it was better. He could feel everything. Dom’s legs started to twitch at every sensation. Any words of protest were lost to the flare in his gut that grew and spread swiftly. He chased the feeling at Sam’s pace, mouth dropping open soundlessly and his head falling back into the pillows.

Sam’s mouth barely left Dom’s skin. He kissed him where he was allowed, pushing the boundary by getting close to the corner of Dom’s lips but never crossing it. Each one was soft and sweet and the contrast between them and their thorough, messy frotting made him feel insane. He kept clenching around nothing. God, he needed to fucking come.

“Sam,” Dom whined.

“What do you need, sweetheart?”

“Touch me, fuck, please.”

He felt one more kiss on his cheek before Sam moved so he could reach between them. Dom moaned as soon as he felt fingers on his dick, rubbing in tandem with his thrusts. “Good?” Sam grunted, and Dom nodded, frantic. The increased pressure was enough. Dom came with a choked groan, his thighs trapping Sam in place.

Before the aftershocks had a chance to stop, Dom opened his eyes, stared Sam down while still trying to catch his breath, and insisted, “In me. Now.” Sam shook his head, mouth opening to speak, but Dom interrupted him. “Not. Not to fuck me. Just wanna feel you.”

“Okay, sweetheart, okay.”

All it took was the slightest change in angle, and Dom felt Sam pressing into him. He watched as Sam’s flushed red cock slid slowly into him, panting at the near painful stretch even though he’d already been full of him before. Fuck, Sam was thick. It was a surprise no matter how often they’d had sex. Dom could never get enough of the feeling.

Sam’s brows were drawn together, and he breathed heavily, also watching where he disappeared inside Dom in one slow stroke. Though part of him wanted to urge Sam on, do something to make him bully right into his cunt, get that delicious, toe-curling pleasure-pain, Dom also… didn’t want that. Not tonight.

Now that the urgency of that first orgasm was over—though his nerves were still lit with it, sparking enticingly the deeper Sam got and making his cunt clench greedily around Sam’s cock—he needed this. The care, the patience. He gazed at Sam instead of where their bodies met and waited for him to look back. Dom had no idea what emotions he’d see when he did. There were too many swirling around in his mind to know.

Sam let out a shuddery breath when he sank fully into Dom, his head hanging. Dom’s eyes almost fluttered shut at how fucking full he was, but he needed to concentrate on Sam. His shoulders were tense from keeping still and holding himself up, so Dom trailed his hand up his arm, over the swell of his shoulder. He just needed to touch him, soothe him maybe.

When he finally lifted his heavy head, Sam’s expression was somewhere between sadness and raw devotion. His dark eyes held so much of both that Dom wished he could crack his ribcage open and give Sam his heart if only to try and take that sadness away. It was only right, when he was the one who’d put it there. All Dom could do instead was cradle Sam’s face in his palm and apologise again.

“I’m sorry, d—Sam. I’m sorry.”

Shaking his head once, Sam leaned into Dom’s touch, turning just enough to kiss his palm. His soft lips lingered, stubble tickling where it rasped against his hand, and Dom let his thumb brush over Sam’s strong cheekbone.

“Nothing you could do,” Sam said.

“Could’ve told you sooner.”

That earned Dom a laugh, warm breath bursting over his palm, until both men gasped when it jostled them, but Dom ignored the reminder that he was stretched open and stuffed so fucking full. Sam was smiling. Barely, but it was enough. That’s all that fucking mattered.

“Yeah, you could’ve. At least you told me at all, though, I guess.”

“Almost didn’t,” Dom admitted.

“Christ, that would’ve been…”

“A shitty fucking move on my part.”

Sam laughed again, and Dom’s hips twitched involuntarily. Holding his gaze, Sam bore down so they were flush together, buried so deep that Dom ached and groaned even while he arched his back to meet him. He wanted to feel Sam’s cock so deep in his cunt he’d still be sore by the time he landed in Cuba.

Dom laid back into the bed fully as Sam stretched out above him. He loved seeing Sam like this, loved being beneath him even if it took time to admit that. Would’ve hated to admit it a few months ago. But looking up at Sam, being able to see his face, being surrounded by him… Dom fucking craved it.

“I would’ve tracked you down,” Sam said, hissing as he pulled out agonisingly slowly. When Sam started to push back in, just as slow, Dom gave a low moan. “If you just fucking left. I’d tear the city apart trying to find you.”

Eyes locked on each other, Dom could see the fierce sincerity behind his words, the determination, and it rattled him to be wanted this much. “Da—Sam–”

“Call me darling, please, sweetheart.”

Dom whimpered, his cunt squeezing around Sam as he kept rocking in and out so maddeningly slowly. “God, fuck, darling, I don’t wanna go.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Sam said. Resting his forehead against Dom’s, both of them a little sweaty, he whispered, “I know.”

Where before Dom wanted to crack his ribs open, now it felt like they were about to burst open of their own accord. The only way to describe what he felt was a word that Dom actively shied away from, something he’d never felt before, not like this. It felt cruel and fucking tragic to realise what it was now, of all fucking times, and he wanted to bury his heart six feet under and, at the same time, let it all spill out, messy and raw and red, for Sam to hear. But if it was cruel to know, it felt worse to say, even if the only way Dom could describe what they were doing was to call it making love.

There was a desperation in the way Sam thrust into him despite the almost lazy pace, and a tenderness that Dom could only hope to match in the way he touched Sam, in how his hips rose to meet Sam’s over and over like gentle waves. They breathed the same air, faces so close Dom’s mouth brushed Sam’s lower lip. He was seized by the desire to kiss Sam, so strong it was terrifying, but he couldn’t. Fuck, he couldn’t. Not like this, before he left. But the need kept burning in him as severely as the pleasure surging through him.

He held the back of Sam’s neck instead, kept him close while he still could, trying to memorise everything. The way Sam smelled like his woodsy shampoo and the musk of his body during sex, how painfully soft his eyes were as he watched Dom slowly come apart underneath him; he didn’t want to forget any of it.

“Sam.” Dom’s voice cracked. “Samuele.”

“Dominik,” Sam said, his voice husky and shaking, “fuck, sweetheart, this is–”

“Yeah,” Dom laughed thickly.

“Not gonna last.”

“Me neither. It’s okay, darling.”

Dom lost himself in the rhythm of their bodies moving together, perfectly matched, that delicious tension in his belly going taught and ready to snap. Sam’s quiet grunts mixed with Dom’s breathless moans and the slick sounds between them. Sam kept a constant pressure on Dom’s g-spot, and though he’d never been able to come just from this, Dom felt his climax coming like standing at the end of a diving board. He was so fucking close.

So was Sam. He was trying to keep steady, but Dom felt him losing rhythm, speeding up accidentally just to catch himself at it like he could barely resist Dom’s cunt.

“Come, darling.” Dom spread his legs wider so Sam could drive as deep as he needed.

With a wounded, hungry growl, Sam thrust faster, only a handful of times before he came, buried as far as he could get, cock pulsing as heat bloomed and that was all it took to tip Dom over too, feeling Sam’s cum inside him as he shuddered and shook apart, crying Sam’s name and half-sobbing as they rocked together to ride out their waning orgasms.

They clung to each other in the aftermath. Dom could feel Sam trembling, knew he was too, and though the longer Sam laid on him the more he felt the weight, Dom didn’t want him to move. He wanted Sam to stay inside him, had the wild and impossible thought that maybe something would stick if they waited long enough. It wouldn’t, he knew, and he shuffled the idea off to where he didn’t have to think about it again for a long fucking time.

Sam was the first to move, groaning as he slipped out and reached over to the nightstand where the cloth they’d used before sat. Normally Dom might complain about it being fucking gross, but he was still coming down from… everything. And he didn’t want Sam to go too far from him. Not yet. So he took the cloth when Sam handed it over, cleaned himself up, and watched Sam follow suit before he flopped face-down onto the mattress with a sigh.

Dom linked their pinkies together on a whim. It made Sam giggle, and when Dom glanced over he was giving Dom a smile that was almost shy and reignited the stubborn, powerful need to kiss Sam silly. He still didn’t give in. Just gave his pinkie a squeeze and looked away before he did something stupid.

Comfortable silence laid over them like a blanket, but Dom’s mind, once it came back, started whirling again. Sam was watching him, and could probably see the cogs turning in Dom’s mind. He was patient, though. He didn’t press for anything. Dom appreciated it; so much had happened, he’d felt so fucking much, that he needed time to sort through it all or else it’d all come out in an incomprehensible mess.

But there was one thing Sam hadn’t said, throughout the whole night, and it clung to his thoughts like a burr until he had to speak it aloud to get rid of it.

“So. Will you miss me?” Dom asked quietly as he stared at the ceiling.

Sam scoffed. “I thought I made that obvious,” he said, sounding a little offended, and rightfully so, Dom figured. When he didn't respond, just kept staring up, his lips drawn in a tense line, Sam sighed. “What do you want me to say?”

“Lie to me.”

Dom's eyes flicked over to Sam and found himself being watched, puzzled at, a thoughtful frown pulling down his lips. Dom squirmed a bit, but didn't look away.

There was no way he could doubt how Sam felt now. He cared so much more than Dom even hoped to believe, but this was the last time they'd see each other for who knows how long. Hearing the raw truth of how deeply Sam felt just before he had to leave was too much for Dom to bear, no matter how badly he wanted to hear it. After the way they’d… fucked, he was so fucking fragile he could feel the hairline cracks in his composure.

But as a bit, a joke, a lie? It gave Dom enough space to listen, and, he hoped, it could give Sam a chance to say as much as he needed, to get it off his chest.

Shifting, Sam propped himself up so he was nearly on top of Dom again, his side pressed against Sam's chest. All Dom could see was Sam, and it was almost terrifying to think that he might not get this again.

Sam's fingers traced the angles of Dom's jaw as he spoke. “I won't think about you all the time,” he began quietly, “I won't wake up wondering about how you are, or what you're doing, or if you’re safe. I'm not going to worry if you'll miss me too. I don't–”

He cut himself off. Dom's heart raced, unable to break away from the intense look in Sam's eyes until Sam did it himself, glancing at Dom's lips with a sad twitch of a smile before leaning down to kiss his cheek so sweetly.

“I won't miss you, Dominik,” he whispered into his skin, the tone of his voice so earnest it hurt to hear.

Without thinking, Dom tugged Sam close, wrapping his arms around him, tangling his fingers in Sam's hair as he held him. Sam melted into it with a sigh. Dom didn’t know he’d needed this until something settled in his mind and the tension he’d been holding in his body fled.

“I won't miss you at all. Never. Not even a little,” Dom said, feeling a little victorious when Sam huffed and smiled where his face was nestled into the crook of his neck. And, feeling a bit brave, he admitted, “I won't… I won't worry that you'll forget me.”

“I'll forget you as soon as you get on the plane,” Sam teased as he kissed his jaw.

Dom snorted and said, “Your object permanence is shitty.”

“Yeah. It's a problem.” They both laughed a little, but it died off quickly. Sam's arm snaked under Dom's ribs to pull him impossibly closer, their legs slotting together like puzzle pieces. “I couldn't forget you just as much as I couldn't help missing you every fucking day,” Sam confessed.

“Liar,” Dom said, even while hating that he couldn't take just one moment seriously.

“You know I'm not.”

Dom swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I know.” Snuggling in closer and resting his cheek on top of Sam’s head, he whispered, “I know now. Sorry.”

“S’okay,” Sam whispered back. He kissed Dom’s jaw again, a few times, slow and gentle, as Dom’s free hand trailed up and down his arm as he soaked up as much time and affection as he could. It was so much less time than Dom wanted, and more affection than he felt he deserved. But he’d always been greedy, so he’d take everything Sam gave him anyway.

“Can I see you tomorrow?” Sam asked.

Shaking his head, Dom said regretfully, “Spending all day with my family. I’d sneak away but I doubt mom would let me get away with it. And I’d invite you, but…” Sam gave an unhappy grunt that made Dom chuckle lightly. They both knew who’d disapprove of that.

“Can I at least drive you to the airport? See you off?”

“Dad asked Vinny to do it. And. I’m not allowed contact with anyone but my family. No one’s allowed to so much as fucking visit me, either. Too risky.”

The arm around Dom’s back squeezed him, Sam’s fingertips digging into Dom’s side. “So this is really it.”

Sam’s voice was so flat and dull that Dom wanted to slap himself, at the very least, for being such a massive asshole. He nodded.

“I’m so fucking pissed at you,” Sam muttered.

“Yeah. I deserve it.”

Sam gave a heavy sigh before pulling back enough to look at Dom. “Don’t do that.” Dom looked away, but Sam kept going. “Don’t. I forgive you, too.”

Dom felt his face threatening to crumble, the thin façade he’d been clinging to this whole time about to give way to the weight of Sam’s honesty on top of all the grief he’d shoved down just to get through this whole fucking night. His chest tightened, and when his breath hitched Dom cleared his throat to try to hide it. Then Sam said a quiet, sad, “Sweetheart,” and Dom hiccuped a laugh that sounded like a sob. 

He was immediately enveloped in Sam’s arms, his warm weight a familiar comfort that Dom burrowed into. He allowed himself a sniffle or two before composing himself, breathing only a little unsteadily as he got his emotions under control, though he nearly lost it again when he felt the slight stutter in Sam’s chest too.

“Please stay the night,” Sam said, his voice thick. “Just once.”

“I will, my darling.” And Dom, for once, kissed Sam’s cheek. Sam leaned into the touch like he’d been starving for it.

“Your darling?” Sam sounded a bit like he’d had the wind knocked out of him, and Dom knew he needed to drive the point home if he sounded that surprised by such a tiny change. Needed Sam to know, even if he only had enough bravery for a handful of words.

“My darling.” He kissed Sam’s other cheek. “Mine until you don’t want to be anymore.”

Laughing in relief, Sam pressed his forehead to Dom’s. Though he smiled, he still looked like Dom was ruthlessly breaking his heart. Dom wished, so fucking much, that he could stay and hold the pieces together.

“Yours,” Sam said, “for—for as long as you’ll have me.”

Thanks so much for reading!! Please consider giving this a reblog and check out the other works for these two if you have time!

Divider and banner by cafekitsune.

[inkabelledesigns]

Bendy and the Donut Run

Oh Nemo, you have given me too much fuel. XD Okay so how would I write this as a fic? Well my first instinct is that this is a pre-ink fic where one of our human employees is out on a donut run, maybe sees some questionable ink horrors on the way to and from getting donuts, along with a bunch of shenanigans of a cartoony nature.

But then it occurred to me, Audrey likes donuts. How fun would it be to have a post BATDR fic where Audrey has escaped the cycle and the ink creatures are in the real world with this premise? Audrey is working so hard, trying to get her job done as an animator while also uncovering the secrets as to how she looks so human so that the others can blend into society and live their lives again, and she is utterly exhausted. And so in a very "main character does so much for us, we should do something nice for them" move, we could have some characters try to do something sweet and get her donuts, because she loves donuts with her coffee and doesn't have time for them.

There are multiple combinations you could go with for a story like this. My first thought is Bendy and Sammy, since that would be comedic and fun, and depending on characterization, it could be either of them babysitting the other and trying to stay out of trouble as they don't want to be caught as ink creatures. (Admittedly I have my friend Victor's (@reanimationstation ) Sammy and Bendy in mind with this take, I think their dynamic would lend itself well to this.) I also really like the possibility of Betty trying to make donuts in the kitchen, only to have Malice and Allison try to help, and it's a mess of arguing over the best technique, but eventually they learn to work together. I can also see Porter trying to leave the house for donuts, stealing them because he doesn't understand the cost of a donut, and needing to be rescued because no Porter, humans don't flow, you're gonna get in trouble.

My personal favorite would be Memory Joey trying to do this and Cyclebreaker Henry exhaustedly going after him to keep him out of trouble. On their way back with the donuts, they get into trouble, maybe get stuck in a sewer or a construction site, and they have a heart to heart where Joey admits to struggling with being a better person. Joey is trying so hard, he knows the real Joey Drew hurt a lot of people, not necessarily the why and how of it all, but he feels like that's his sin to atone for. He loves Audrey so much, even if he's not really her father, and he wants to do right by her, but he doesn't know how. Henry, believing that he too is a clone of a real person, feels this, admitting that Joey put so much blame on him for not setting him straight and leaving the studio, that he also feels like he has a lot to atone for, but the truth is, they aren't the same people. They're them. He ran after Joey because he too feels the need to do better than the real deal, because he cares about Joey and doesn't want him to end up in another bad situation by being impulsive. And for the first time, in the midst of danger and tragedy, albeit a smaller scale than the studio, they finally start to work through some of their conflicts. And I think, they come out of it better friends and trying to move forward, saying that they don't need to be like the people they came from. They can be something new, something them. They get home with the donuts, Audrey is either worried sick or just asking where they've been, and they merely smile and hand her the box of donuts. They're a little battered and smushed from their adventure, but they're still delicious, and there's at least one that managed to stay all pretty and together. Audrey is very grateful for the donuts, they gather around for some coffee, and Henry and Joey split a donut and clink their mugs together. This is the start of a beautiful friendship, again.

See I told you you gave me too much power.

[sparkchemy]

sliding in to ask you some of those artist ask questions!! ♥

5 (especially after you admitted to almost not posting your serennedy nsfw art lol), 8, 19, 25, 30

5. Estimate of how much of your art you post online vs. the art you keep for yourself

Oh man.. xD Listen, between perfectionism, ADHD, executive dysfunction and shyness, I'm surprised I've posted anything at all.

I'd say that it's 90% now (but a lot of it in small circles like Discord) but before I shared maaaaybe ⅓ of what I drew? 😅

I'm much better at sharing now because the things I draw now are 'finished' in my mind, or as good as. I practically never share studies or WIPs and there are a LOT of WIPs that I've abandoned because of not being satisfied with them or not having the skill level to execute whatever I started. And I haven't shared the naughtier stuff either.

I'm getting over a lot of these hangups, so here's some studies and old wips to prove the point. (Lust x Riza was a zine piece that I forgot to post oops, but the rest I haven't shared before. Ignore the hands).

2021

2022

8. What's an old project idea that you've lost interest in

See previous question. xD I want to say that I never really lose interest, rather I lose motivation and energy. I still hang on to hope that I'll finish all of my WIPs someday..

As for Projects with a capital P, a lot of them are writing/worldbuilding related instead of drawing. I've had quite a few over the years, fandom and original and I still love them dearly, but I realise that I'd need 10 lifetimes to execute them fully…

19. Favorite inanimate objects to draw (food, nature, etc.)

Nature for sure! Flowers and leaves, trees, organic stuff. Because it's not really inanimate. I struggle with anything that requires straight lines. xD

25. Something your art has been compared to that you were NOT inspired by

I wish I had a funny story related to this, but I don't get a lot of comparisons like that and nothing comes to mind at the moment.

30. What piece of yours do you think is underrated

I can tell you which ones are Overrated. xD

It's hard to judge these things because smaller fandoms understandably get less exposure, but I'm happy as long as someone likes my art, even if it's one person.

[pyjamacryptid]

artists self rec! when you get this, reply with your favourite five arts/sets/edits/gifs that you've done, then pass on to at least five other people. time to shine and spread some self-love and appreciation 🥰 <3

oh my god sia i am SO SORRY i am only just now seeing this ask it's been so long i am so so--

Sia!!!

This was so hard to choose wow.

FANVIDS FIRST:

I'm Sorry | Merlin & Arthur from BBC Merlin [tumblr link] [direct yt link]

This took me over 2 months and, so far, it's the best fanvid I've ever made. I'm ridiculously proud of it and I only have a tiny bit of shame in saying so XD. The finished product ended up far better than the original concept I had in my head. I wanted to make a video that focused on how Merlin and Arthur forgave one another; Merlin, since the day he met Arthur, and Arthur when he learned the truth. Because the core of their relationship was unconditional love, to their own strength and detriment. I cried almost each time I worked on it.

2. I Became Greedy | Kurosawa & Adachi from Cherry Magic [tumblr link] [direct yt link]

This took me about .. I want to say a month? I'm also proud of this one. Cherry Magic is a light-hearted BL j-drama that - at its core - is about the importance of reaching out to others, and the bravery of reaching out and accepting someone else's outreached hand. I eventually want to edit a video on the overarching meaning of the show. But I... am a sucker for pining lol and I was so taken in by Kurosawa's pining. It was so poignant, I was literally clutching my chest in sympathy pangs. So, I wanted to edit a vid that emulated that and focused just on that feeling. And I think I??? did!

3. it's not living if it's not with you | Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji from The Untamed/CQL [direct yt link]

This was the second fanvid I had posted to my youtube channel and I used a lot of editing techniques I had never tried before, so I learned a lot! I wanted to show as many aspects of wangxian's story and relationship in one video as I could without mucking up the pacing or making it messy in general. I love the colour palette and font I chose. Something else I really wanted to achieve was using a light-hearted song with a sad meaning over both sad and happy scenes, because that's a recipe for EMOTION. And judging by the comments I got on this vid, I dare say I succeeded XD I had a lot of fun making this! Even if I got stuck on it for a month and then thankfully could finish it when I was hit with an epiphany. I also cried quite a bit while making it shkgjhdf

Listen. I have. Emotions.

ART:

4. A Favourable Misunderstanding | Merlin & Arthur [link to full comic here]

A meme re-draw turned into a fluffy comic because it took on a life of it's own and Merlin & Arthur are a force to be reckoned with when being idiots in love. I was also super proud of this! Despite the many styles in one comic (which is fine, I was just worried about nothing looking like it matched) I was happy with how I drew them! Especially as I find Merlin's face very difficult to get a grasp of, for some reason. And I was also proud of their characterisations! I still get so happy to see how well-loved it is, and so perhaps it doesn't need its own rec but what the hell. I love it, too hehe.

5. Balls the Unfathomable | a comic about a weirdly wholesome demon summoning [link to full comic here]

My friends and I, while on a call, fell into doing a bit. That lasted a really long time. And during it, I became a summoned demon nicknamed "Balls". No, I'm not joking. It was ridiculous and hilarious.

Thankfully, I remembered most of it and immediately tried to commit it to paper for - what I thought - was going to be a short, half-assed sketch comic. Nope. I ended up with a multi-page comic with clean lines and everything.

Funnily enough, I hadn't actually ever finished a multi-page comic before this. Not one so polished anyway. Balls has that effect on people, I suppose. skjdhjkfdg

So yeah, I was proud of finishing it, and of choosing a cute, simple style and sticking to it (cute, "less realistic" styles don't come easy to me, so I struggled more than you'd think trying to figure out how I was going to draw this skdjhkfg) and of how I structured the panels, especially when I really was just winging it. I do not know how to panel (yet).

Basically; I adore my friends and the fun we have together and I had to share this particular shenanigan and Balls themself. They've become a beloved character amongst my friends and I.

_________

That's it! Long-winded commentary and all.

Thank you again for the self-rec, Sia! 🥺💕💕💕

psst hey, you should go totally check out Sia's blog - she does amazing edits and gifs

[ikeromantic]

Eeeeeeek! I just saw your latest follower event! Hehehehe ☺️☺️♥️♥️🤩🤩 Massive congratulations dear! I swear ive requested in every event 🤣🤣🤩♥️

Lolol so i am here once more to humbly request more of the man i love♥️♥️♥️🤩🤩😳😳

Could i pretty please with syrup ontop request Ikevamp Theo!

With

Space,

Hawthorn tree - protection and defense

Annnnnnd Calliope - muse of ecstatic harmony, poetry, and eloquence

Hehehe thanks so much dear♥️🌻🌻🌻😳 as always dm me if i accidentally missed a step!😳 sending all the sparkles! And once again! Massive congratulations ♥️♥️

You do! And that makes me smile ^_^ Theo is always a fun one to write. It also give me an excuse to look up Dutch curse words xD So let's see . . . approx. 570 words on the themes of Space, Hawthorn - protection, and Calliope - eloquence!

Theo watched the crowd with a certain wary anticipation. There were more people here than the cabaret could comfortably hold. All the tables were moved out and the floor was packed with people standing shoulder to shoulder. Quite a few were drunk and rowdy, trying to push for space. Impatient. 

“There aren’t many women here,” his girl said nervously, going on tiptoe to speak close to his ear. 

“Right. It’s mostly men and whor - ah, working ladies.” He tightened his grip on her waist. “Don’t worry about it. You’re with me, Hondje.”

She grinned up at him, some of the tension easing. “That’s right. I am.” Her chin rested on his arm. “Thank you for bringing me here. I really wanted to see an opera.”

“Opera-comique,” he pinched her bottom lightly. “It’s not Iolanta.”

“I don’t even know what that is,” she giggled.

A drunk lurched past their nearest neighbor, stumbling into her as she laughed. Theo tried to turn her so he took the brunt of the impact, but there wasn’t space to do it.

“Watch where you’re going,” the man spat, glaring down at her, then realizing this was a woman, he leered. 

Theo pulled her closer. “I think you need to move on, monsieur. Quickly.”

The drunk ignored him. “I could forgive you for a kiss.” His eyes drifted from her face to her bare shoulders and down the fitted gown she wore, tracing the shape of her under the fabric.

“I -”

“Franse slag! One more word and you’ll regret it.” Theo grabbed the man’s collar, his words a low rumble in his chest.

“What’d ya call me? I’m not scared of you.” The drunk drew back a fist. He was a big man with hard calloused hands, and in a fair fight, he might be able to take someone like Theo. But it was never a fair fight with a vampire. 

With a huff of annoyance, the girl pushed Theo and the drunk apart. “Are you both serious right now? If you start fighting, this place will turn into a riot.”

Theo shrugged. “I’m not letting this mierenneuker touch you. Or think about touching you.” Anger colored his cheeks and lit his eyes.

“I dunno what that means, but you won’t be able to say it when I pound yer face.”

Theo caught his fist and began to squeeze.

“Wait! Wait! Please, guys! Stop it!” Her protest did not have any impact. The men glared at each other. She put her hands on her hips. “Theo, if you don’t let him go, I’m leaving by myself right now. And . . . drunk guy! You’ll never get laid if you talk to women like that. Especially not ones that clearly have a boyfriend. So go home, get sober, and learn some manners!”

Her outburst attracted the attention of the people around them and several cheered. The ‘working girls’ clapped. 

After a tense moment, the men let go of each other. The drunk grumbled an apology and slunk away. 

Theo took her hand. “Didn’t know you had such a persuasive bark, Hondje.”

“Pffft. You could learn some manners too, you know. Still calling me a puppy. Lovers usually get nice nick-”

He silenced her with a kiss, lifting her off her feet. This brought more whoops and cheers. He didn’t set her down until she was breathless and glassy eyed. “That’s better,” he smirked. “Now stop yapping. The show is about to start.” 

[popsorlidia]

3 Art Style Challange 🍕

Hello everybody!!!

I actually wanted to do this for a while and I always loved those art styles. If any of you amazing artist see this post just wanna say that May God bless you and your wonderful skillful and blessed hands!! Your artworks and art is purely amazing and beautiful and I've also learned a lot from it!! Thank you for being an inspiration ✨

•・Wanna see the true official representation of Romania? •・➢ RO 🇷🇴 ref

-•-•-•-

1st slide @cloumello : She was a former CH fan and she left because of how toxic the fandom is but- I always looked up to her unique fun style!

If you guys know Cloumello, maybe you remember that now YEARS ago when I was just a tiny tinNy Lad- (I know im still SMALL DONT MENTION IT👁👁 ) she drew Romania, but as a GuRl and- umm ofc based on stereotypes a vampire too-

I really wanted to see how Romania would look into her new style so this was a lot of fun and tell ya what!!! This is INSANE!! I know I was the one doing this challenge but dang- ARGHHHH!!! He looks so so cool! 🔥🥹✨

2nd slide @germany_f.m : WELL-

This was so interesting to work with, sadly I didn't really have all the brushes needed to give a good watercolour look to it but I really tried my best to give that look with the brushes that I already had!! This was a big shift in style but was great to try it! The lines have a slight squiggly to them almost giving the vibe that the line art is not well made!! Is a fun stylet do I really liked working on this!! JUST THE STYLE MAKES ROMANIA LOOK SO GOOFY!!🇷🇴🔥✨ xD

3rd style @btanimator : WOO MAN!! This was so so interesting and oh man I had so much fun doing this style!! Tho I kinda had a hard time deciding what kind of shading to go on… like a very simple one?? Or just go full on from 0 to 100 🫡 Well I kinda went with one from in between and MAN I didn't expect Romania to look so cool in this style!! Idk if BTanimator ever drew Romania but HEY if Not IM VERY CURIOUS TO SEE HER REACTION TO THE TRUE REPRESENTATION 👁👁⚡️🔥✨

-•-•-•-

Comment below!! Did I nail those art styles, or not?! Give me your thoughts 🤩✨🇷🇴

[mtk2]

Because I don't post anything interesting here, I made another drawing of another one. Here is The Dark Lord for ya.

I tried to make the uh... blade hand thingys different from the last time I did it. I don't like it though.

Now that I think about it, a lot of my drawings seem more like redraws when I wasn't even thinking of that. The poses and stuff look similar to how I drew the other stickfigures as well (though those were posted as a sort of ava/m crossover thing with a game. Long story. Look at my past drawings. Like.... far back. They were first drawn here for a sort of crossover fanart thing. idk what to call it.)

I am.... not original when it comes to drawing. And then drawing again because like I said, the poses look similar to how I drew them the first time.

Ehh....

Sorry. Can't lie. I still suck at this. XD

(excuse my bad ramble here of sorts)

When I finish drawing all the stickfigures (not counting those new ones in the new Animator vs Animation episode, if ya know what I mean), those will be the last time I post something interesting and with tags. I'll still probably draw, but it won't be tagged. (Though anything that's with the original stickfigures I may or may not draw in the future will be the only things tagged. Anything else won't)

It'll just be more ocs and me wanting to work on some kind of blog with those. Well. No one wants to see a stickfigure oc blog thingy XD. But I would like to try it. Ive seen blogs. Though Iguess those are justwith the original stickfigures and their own AUs. Or whatever its called (i wouldn't be smart enough to make my own au and use the original stickfigures. So yeah)

Ah. I'm rambling.

Before this gets more uninteresting (unless you were before seeing this), um... Idk. enjoy this. I guess. Cuz I don't. (No matter how many times someone says I shouldn't be hard on my art and to be nice to it, it eh... Idk if that'll happen).

Art block just sucks. I wish I was more original. Like... I can at least try to do some kind of art style besides just stick figures..... Idk. (I know I say 'idk' alot. Sorry)

Here. Tags. Uh.... wooo. Even though Idk which other tags to put. So I'm stuck putting two. fricking. tags.

[mikauzoran]

In Which We Make Progress With Shading

Hi there! I didn’t do a whole lot of drawing practice this week because I was busy writing, like, four chapters of Adrienette Accidental Baby Acquisition, but I feel like I made some good progress with the drawings I did do. (Plus, I did some watercolor, so it was still a productive week.)

First up, the below is a drawing I did in my drawing class this Thursday (09/22/2022). We were specifically working on shading. I feel like my drawing is a pretty good likeness of the objects, but the shading is a little inconsistent. ^.^; I especially had trouble with the cast shadows.

On the left is the Chinese vase you guys have seen before. I didn’t do any of the clouds or the dragon because I only had so much time, and I wanted to focus more on the shading, less on the details of the objects.

The mug on the right is just a plain, white, ceramic mug. I actually think I posted a picture of this before too. It came in a set of six. Its brothers and sisters are all gorgeous shades of blue and green. When I first drew the mug, I was really pleased with the depth and dimensions of the handle...but then I did the shading, and it didn’t look as great afterwards. XD

In the front center is my ocarina. I think this turned out the best of the objects. (Maybe because I love it best out of the three.) I drew it face down, so what you’re seeing is the back where the voicing hole and the thumb holes are. (Because I didn’t want to draw all ten of the holes on the front because I didn’t have a lot of time in class to work on this.)

The drawing was originally on bigger paper, but I don’t draw too terribly big, so I cut it down for storage purposes.

In the upper left-hand corner of the above picture, I drew a mini teapot and sugar bowl. These are actually about life-size in the drawing. My grandma always had a bunch of what-nots, and when she and my grandpa used to watch me when I was really little, I always used to play with them. I often “stole” them and brought them home with me. My mum always had to bring them back with us the next time my grandparents watched me. XD

At some point, I “borrowed” a whole shoebox of them...and never gave them back. Seriously. They are legit still in a shoebox under my bed twenty years later. XD

Anyway, so, the little tea set was one of my grandma’s what-nots. There’s a tray, teapot, sugar bowl, milk jar, and two cups and saucers. This isn’t one of the what-nots I “stole” or “borrowed”. I inherited the set legitimately when my grandma died a few years ago.

The main picture above is a glass goblet (inherited from my grandfather), a tissue box, and a banana sitting on a placemat on our dining room table. There are two chairs on either side of the composition in the background. Below is a reference pic from a slightly different angle.

I didn’t do all of the details on the tissue box because I couldn’t be bothered. XD The banana looks pretty good, though! I’m really pleased with it. When I did a banana about three weeks ago, I had such a hard time with it, and I didn’t do any of the brown spots. This time I think I did pretty well putting in the details.

Let’s not talk about the goblet other than to say that you can tell it’s a goblet. XD That’s my first attempt at drawing a glass object, and it was really hard! The reflections and highlights were really difficult to capture. I feel like I need to spend some time drawing glass objects and getting used to their eccentricities so that I can render more realistic glass in the future.

There are a lot of little things that aren’t quite right with my drawing, but there are also a lot of little things that I feel I did a good job on, so I’m really happy with this picture. I drew multiple objects, incorporated shading and shadows, and even drew the surface they’re sitting on and the background. I feel like my drawings have really improved from my teapot doodles a month ago. XD

Thanks again to everyone following my art journey from the beginning. Next up (besides practicing drawing glass objects) is more fanart-y things. I’ve decided that I want to try to do my own art for Adrien Trapped in AU-Land, and the first thing I want to work on is a small “chapter heading” drawing for each AU. For example, for the coffee shop AU, I want to draw a takeaway cup with “Chez Plagg” and a little Camembert logo on it next to an undetermined amount of chocolate chip cookies. For the ballet AU, I want to do a pair of red pointe shoes.

So, yeah. I want to start working on that, since that’s about my level right now. I’ll probably end up redoing it all when I get a tablet and start doing art digitally, but I think it will be fun to do rough drafts so I can get my ideas down and show you guys.

I also picked up a book about drawing manga anatomy, so I’m going to start trying to do figure drawing. I’ll probably start with trying to draw Adrien from different angels and making different expressions. I need to do some Marinette practice too. ...And I’ll need to Plagg in human form. Maybe Tikki too. We’ll see. ^.^;

Thanks for reading!

[niyana-the-ambiguous-mobian]

8, 18, 36

Writers asks!

8. If you had to write an entire story without either action or dialogue, which would you choose and how would it go?

Oooh, I’d say with no dialogue. It seems like a hard feat but you’d be surprised on how you can carry on a scene with no dialogue and just based on the characters actions alone and explaining how they’re reacting with subtle sentences like, “His eyes widen, his mouth went slack as he felt a wash of cold rush over him, pricking at his arms and legs like a million needles as he put two and two together. He’d been betrayed….and he fell in into her trap.”

That kind of stuff like that is so fun!

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

Hmm, well… to recent memory, it’ll probably be this passage from one of my earlier stories,

Watching him as he marched towards the end of the driveway, Maddie turned to see Sonic kneeling down near a fresh pile of snow. He seemed to be placing handprints in the snow, making each one till they all formed a circle with the palms facing the center and the fingers facing outward.

Walking over and kneeling down, she watched as he then drew a circle in the center and used his pointer finger to place holes in the center of it. Once he finished his new art piece, he kneeled back on his knees smiling fondly at it before his face dropped and his mouth became a tight line. Maddie, noticing this placed a hand on his back. “You ok?”

He looked up, face never changing as he gazed out onto the snow covered lawn.

“I….used to do this during the winters when I lived in my cave, before I met you and Tom.” He let out a heavy sigh as he looked down at the hand prints.

“It would remind me of the flowers that grew all around my old home.” He paused, making his hands on his knees into fists, a few blue sparks started flickering from his hat onto the snow.

“They remind me of the flower I last gave to….her.” -Link to said story here!

I based that scene off of a real thing I remember doing as a child, I would just make as many as I could and place them all over the backyard when it would snow. Of course since this was a more happy memory, I’d thought about how I could incorporate it in the story since it takes place during the winter and no joke, I remember once I thought of the way to use it in that story, I said out loud, “You are so heartless, why are you like this?” XD

But I wanted it to be a little something for Sonic to reminisce about after he lost Longclaw and how the last thing he gave to her, a sunflower, a small piece of nature that exists back on his home world and on earth, still following him in his memory even though he was doing something as simple as drawing it like any kid would when he lived in his cave.

36. They say to Write What You Know. Setting aside for a moment the fact that this is terrible advice...what do you Know?

Of the stuff that I know when writing I mostly things I already knew about through watching the show/movie/reading comic or book, it depends on what exactly I want to write about and what I can use from certain Drabble/ story.

[w0nderland]

Hi lovely!! How are you? Don't worry about taking time to answer my last ask, you can always take as much time as you want to answer!

I have a few questions for you :

You're in front of a tarot reader. Their hands are hovering over the cards, about to predict your future... Which card are you hoping to see?

When do you know that you're in love?

If you could turn a song into a book (either with the same vibe or following the same plot as the lyrics), which would you choose?

What is your favourite element from the periodic table?

What kind of personality traits do you look for in a partner?

If you could choose, what poet do you hope Taylor drew inspiration from for her album?

Feel free to answer only a few of them! Once I start thinking of a few of these I never know when to stop xD!

Sending tons of love & warm hugs your way! I hope April treats you kindly, and that the sun on your face feels like a gentle hug <3

ooh ok let's think about things that aren't ttpd because i simply cannot wait to listen and need distractions!!!! as always i love your asks youre the best pen pal (and actual pal) <3

i don't know much about tarot cards, when you see them it also depends on whether they're upside down or not, right? anyway if i am turning to tarot for reassurance about the future i would want to know i'm on the right path, that the risks and sacrifices are worth it

i have a hard time differentiating between romantic and platonic love. but in both cases i think it's after i have a moment when i really feel Known and Seen

hoax

i love this question i never know what to say because i only actually work with like 10 elements and theyre the boring ones. why not nitrogen, she's usually good to me :) i'm excited for people to figure out how nitrogen fixation works, it's such an important process and there is still more to uncover. not my area of research but i'll keep an eye out for it. a few years ago a college professor gave a lecture about nitrogen fixation and at the end we were like "ok how does it work :)" and he said "no one knows. see you tomorrow!" and that just stuck with me

curiosity, sense of humor, kindness! same as what i look for in friends too

i wish i knew more poets! who do you hope she used as inspiration?

[doctorstethoscope]

Couldn’t Wait || A. Hotchner x Fem Reader

summary: reader has a hard time waiting for Aaron to get home from a case

pairing: soft!hotch x reader

warnings: oral, m receiving, penetrative sex, praise kink, degradation kink if you squint, cursing

18+ CONTENT MINORS DNI

wordcount: 1.6k

Aaron was completing paperwork on the otherwise silent jet when he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He smiled when he saw your name and picture on the screen.

“Hi sweetheart,” he whispered, and you felt butterflies flutter in your stomach, even after two years of being together. 

“I miss you,” you whined by way of greeting. 

“I miss you too. I’ll be home in about an hour.” He tells you.

“Why are you whispering?” You asked. 

“Everyone else on the jet is asleep. Come to think of it, why are you awake?” He asked, a barely-perceptible air of concern floating around his question. 

“The bed’s cold,” you said noncommittally, and though he couldn’t see it, you shrugged. “So, you’re the only one awake?” You confirmed. 

“Uh, yeah,” Aaron said, distracted as he tried to quickly wrap up the paperwork so he could come home to you. 

You smiled to yourself. “Hmm, then I think you should check out the picture I just sent you.” 

“Baby--” he started, and the gravel in his tone shot right through you. But you were on a mission, and you couldn’t be distracted.

“It’ll be worth your while,” you promised. “Go ahead, stay on the line with me. I’ll wait.” 

Rolling his eyes, he did as he was told, and opened up the text from you, revealing a picture of you in a lacy lilac corset with matching panties and garters. He cleared his throat audibly and you let out a little giggle. “Is that, um. Are you--”

“Yes, I’m wearing it now.” You answer the question he couldn’t ask, saving him from his stammering. Aaron closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath. “Hurry home,” you told him in a sing-song voice. 

“I’ll see you soon. I love you,” he told you, as he always did.

“Love you.” 

Aaron was on his feet as soon as the wheels of the jet touched down. If anyone else on the team was making remarks about his hasty departure, he wasn’t sticking around to hear them. He didn’t have any way to defend himself, anyway. 

The door is unlocked when he arrives. “Honey, you know I don’t like it when--” He calls into the house, not realizing you are right behind the door. You stop him in his tracks as soon as he crosses the threshold, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck and kissing him soundly. He drops his go bag and swings the door shut behind him in an instant, raising his recently-freed hands to the small of your back and the back of your head, deepening the kiss. 

“Couldn’t wait another second for you,” you whispered against his skin as you moved your mouth from his lips down towards his jaw and his neck, deftly undoing the knot of his tie and making quick work of the buttons of his shirt to expose more skin. 

“How’d I get this lucky?” He asked breathlessly, pulling back to gesture at your lingerie before leaning in to nip at your neck. Your hands scrambled for purchase against his back, the fabric of his shirt soft and surely wrinkling under your fingers.

“I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you confessed with a sigh as you tilted your head to give Aaron more access to the sensitive skin at the junction of your neck and shoulder.

“Good,” he whispers against your skin. “I want you to forget everything and everyone else but me.”  he smirked, his voice dropping on the last word as reached around to give your ass a quick tap. You moaned into his ear and he groaned in response. “You weren’t joking, huh? You really have been waiting all day. What a good girl.”  He asked as he took your ass in his hands, palming at your rear. “Are you wet for me already?” He asked, ghosting his finger over your panties. 

“God, Aaron, yes.” you moaned out. “All day. I wasn’t joking,” you affirmed. “Please,” you begged, looking up at him innocently and batting your eyelashes. You pushed his unbuttoned shirt off of his shoulders and he crouched, bringing his strong hands down to your thighs. You jumped up, wrapping your legs around his waist so he could carry you to the bedroom. You could feel him, already hard against you, and you took advantage of your angle to run your hands through his hair and to leave marks all over the base of his throat. 

He placed you gently against the bed, your hair fanning out around you. He stood over you, taking you in as you laid there, chest rising and falling heavily, eyes lidded with desire and a blush in your cheeks.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he tells you, pulling his undershirt over his head before climbing over you on the bed and leaning in to kiss and suck over the exposed skin of your chest. You brought your hands back to his hair, tugging and pulling in all the ways you knew he liked. He groaned, and you felt it radiate through you. Aaron moved his focus down, hooking two fingers into the sides of your panties and pulling them down, replacing them with open mouthed kisses to your inner thighs. 

“Aaron, wait.” you gasped out. 

“I think you’ve waited long enough, sweetheart. Don’t you?” He asked, still sitting poised at your entrance. He looked up at you tenderly and you could have come completely undone right then and there. 

“I want to take care of you first,” you told him. “Stand up,” you commanded, climbing off the bed and slinking to the floor in front of him. The corset wasn’t the most comfortable of your sexy outfits, but when he raked his eyes over your chest, you were glad you kept it on.

“You look so pretty on your knees for me,” he says with a reverence that almost knocks you over. “So fucking sexy,” he adds in a low growl, and you blush as you look down towards the ground, smiling. You reached for his belt, ridding him of the piece of leather before taking care of his slacks and boxers. You put one hand at the base of him and looked up. 

“Aaron,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he hissed out. 

“Don’t be gentle.” you told him before taking him into your throat. He groaned, throwing his head back in pleasure. 

“So naughty,” he said with a wicked smile. “Such a dirty girl,” he moaned out as you bobbed up and down on his cock. He thrusted his hips as he took your hair in his hands, forcing himself further down your throat. “Such a good girl, you’re doing so good. Take it all.” 

You continued, motivated by his praise, until he found his release in your mouth. You swallowed before standing up and tilting your chin toward him for a kiss, which he granted, bringing a tender hand up to cradle your face. 

“That was one hell of a welcome home,” he murmured to you.

“There’s more where that came from,” you remind him, although you know he hasn’t forgotten. He’s never once left you unsatisfied. You climb back into bed, reaching behind you to release the clasp of the corset. You toss it off to the side of the room and collapse back into the mattress, letting out a deep breath.

“All this time you couldn’t breathe in that thing?” Aaron scolded you gently, shaking his head even as his fond smile betrayed him. 

“Can we do the lecture on safe seduction practices later? I need you to fuck me,” you whined, looking up at him. That was all it took. His eyes darkened and he slipped into you in an instant, dropping his head to your shoulder and leaving delicate kisses there as he thrusted in and out of you. 

“Shit, Aaron.” You moaned out, not sure if you could say anything more coherent. 

“You feel so good, baby. You make me feel so good,” he said, nipping at your neck before snaking a hand in between the two of you so he could rub at your clit. 

“Fuck. Aaron, if you keep doing that--” you started to warn, but he cut you off. 

“I know, baby. Go ahead, you’ve earned it.” He kissed your forehead as you spasmed around him, riding you through your high. Once your breathing evened out, he rolled over. 

“So, is now a good time for the lecture on safe seduction practices, or--”

“I didn’t hear you complaining when it was on.” You teased him.

“No, and you won’t. But I like you better when you can breathe, and you didn’t have to go to all that trouble just for me.” 

“Trust me, hearing boss man SSA Hotchner tripping over his words because of one little picture was reward enough.” 

“For the record, I also like you better when you leave the door locked. Especially when I’m not home.” He continued with his lecture. 

You let out a little chuckle and rolled your eyes. “I heard you coming, worry wart. I promise you the door has been locked for all of the past three days except for when I was passing through it and when I heard you coming down the hall.” 

“Three days?”

“Well, you left on Tuesday, and it’s… technically Friday morning, now.”

“Felt longer. Missed you,” he said, reaching out to take your hand in his, kissing your knuckles. 

“Well, you have three nights of cuddling to make up for, and I intend to cash in.” 

tagging: @bauhousewife @just-a-fangirl-xd @angelic-kisses13 @sleepyreaderreads @ssamorganhotchner @wolviesbbeslrblg @xyzhoneybee

@choppa-style @wanniiieeee @zheezs14

@ssavanessa22 @isthatme-thatsme @g-l-pierce @ssahotchie @infinite-tides

@itsmytimetoodream @hotforhotchner11 @hotchinkevlar

[rengoku-loves-you]

This is such a weird request, but can you do the reader doing a break up prank on our sun, kyo? (Weird ik I just kinda wanna see how it goes XD)

(hi hun! don't worry about weird requests, this made me laugh when i read it! though it probably doesn’t show... i probably made it a bit more emotional and angsty than you were hoping, i’m sorry about that ^^; it hurt my little kyo-loving heart to make him sad tho, i almost couldn't bear it but that was the way it flowed :'D thank you so much for your request! ❤️️)

kyojuro x reader (in which you make up a break-up)

warnings: miscommunication, prank (accidentally) gone too far, angst?

"i think it's best if we don't see each other anymore."

kyojuro freezes. he'd been in the middle of cleaning his sword, wiping away the remains of the demon he had slain during his last mission, when you dropped that bomb on him. you don't even have the decency to look at him, sitting across from him with your eyes closed and your legs crossed like his. practicing your breathing, supposedly.

"what do you mean by that?" he asks slowly, very sure he's heard you wrong. his hearing has always been a little faulty ever since that one disastrous mission. "you're my successor! we could hardly not see each other anymore, your training is nowhere near complete. unless one of us goes blind!" he smiles, and you blink open your eyes. you don't look as amused as he hoped you would.

"i mean we should break up," you say bluntly, and that. that slaps the tentative smile right off his face. for a long moment, it's silent.

"ah," he says, quiet. his gaze flicks away, down to his sword, and he mindlessly starts cleaning it again before his hands start to shake. he forces his lips upward again, ignoring how they tremble. "i... if that's what you truly want, i understand! i will not pressure you to change your mind! you know what you desire better than anyone!" and he doesn't say any more, scrubbing the rag over the blade over and over and over again.

"okay," you say shortly. "thank you for understanding, rengoku." he gives a single nod, and you close your eyes again. rengoku. you only called him that when he was in trouble. otherwise, it was always kyojuro or even kyo.

it stings.

it stings a lot, even more than the bite the demon had taken out of his leg during the mission. in fact, his heart hurts so bad that he doesn't even notice when his eyes start to sting as well until tears are dripping onto his sword, smearing when he tries to rub them away.

"i'm just," you start to say, and then you inhale sharply, cutting yourself off. he doesn't hear what you say next, because he sobs at the sound of your voice, and his sword falls to the ground in his haste to scrub away the shameful, selfish tears. when he feels your hands on his shoulders, he jerks away.

“i’m fine, i’m okay!” he insists loudly, dodging your touch again when your fingers brush his cheek. he’s trying so hard to keep the smile on his face that it only makes his eyes water more. “i’ll stop in a moment, i apologize for this!” his voice wobbles, and he roughly scrubs at his face for it, trying to tamp the emotions down. he isn’t even entirely sure why he’s crying like this. you’re still his successor, and you’re not so cruel as to treat him coldly even after you break up. he knows you’ll still be friends at the very least. it’s not as if you’ll really never see each other again.

but you were his first, the only one he dared to let in so deep into his heart even though he knows the risks, because he believed in you and your ability to stay alive. he believed you would succeed in becoming a pillar, flame or otherwise, and just like a moth to a flame that spark inside you drew him in. you were natural friends, slipping into dating territory without either of you having to ask.

(”dating” being a relative term, of course. neither of you have much time to indulge in silly, normal dates, so you steal kisses, stay for dinner, and spend the night when you can.)

he feels like a child again, freshly abandoned, scorched inside with grief and burned outside from the flames he recklessly practices with. only this time, the external burns are your fleeting touches as you try to calm him down, saying words his ears refuse to let him process.

“i’m fine, i’m fine,” he persists, hoarse now that he’s nearly cried out, and you fall quiet. his entire face feels hot, a mixture of his aggressive rubbing, the usual post-breakdown flush, and shame. you’ve given up on helping, standing worriedly at his side with your hands wringing. you watch him take shuddering breaths, somehow still with that damned grin on his face that looks nothing but painful. 

“i apologize,” kyojuro begins, because he knows all his crying did was make you feel guilty and the last thing he wants is to make you feel responsible for him and his silly emotions.

“it was a joke,” you say weakly, and he blinks, water catching on his lashes as he gazes at the wall.

“what was that?” he asks, tugging the handkerchief from his breast pocket. you open your mouth, but then he blows his nose, loud and obnoxious, and you shut it again. you wait until he folds it back up, sniffing once, before he grips his knees with his eyes so wide that if you didn’t know any better you’d think he was waiting for someone to cut his head off. “i don’t think i heard you correctly. can you repeat that?”

“it was a joke,” you say again, lamely. “i-i didn’t expect you to take it so hard, especially not that fast. i thought you were gonna act all pouty and give me those sad eyes that you get whenever i don’t share my sweet potatoes with you. then i’d say i was kidding, and we’d kiss and laugh ‘cause we’re too perfect together for that to happen. it was supposed to be funny. i’m not that good at lying, kyo.” you kneel next to him, bowing your head. “i’m sorry.” even as the silence stretches, you don’t dare look up.

“well,” he rasps, and you jolt when you feel a warm hand fall on your head, “i suppose i’m just that terrible at understanding jokes!” when you dare to lift your eyes, he’s smiling at you. genuinely this time, small and still mildly tearstained. “there’s no need to apologize! i was the one who overreacted!”

“kyojuro,” you nearly whine, because he’s only making you feel worse. “it was a mean prank in the first place, don’t you dare start apologizing to me. i’m the one who should be apologizing.” he chuckles, his hand sliding to your upper arm and tugging gently, and you immediately lean into him. he wraps his arm around your shoulders, nose pressed to the top of your head, and you loop your arms around his waist.

“if you say so! i won’t argue with you!” he brings his other arm up, and then he’s practically shuffling into your lap, squeezing you tightly. you let him, even though he’s heavy and nowhere near acceptable lap-sitting size, because you can still feel him shaking and you know he needs the comfort.

“i really am sorry,” you mumble against his shoulder, fingers toying with his belt. “i’ve never seen you cry like that.”

“i’ll forgive you,” he says, “under one condition!” you don’t hesitate to nod. right now, you’d probably do anything he asked, if only to ease the massive pit of guilt in your stomach just a little. he pulls back, hands gripping your shoulders, and gives you another smile. more of a smirk, really. then he leans close to your ear, hot breath ghosting over your skin, and you shiver.

“never, ever leave me,” he whispers, lips brushing your ear when he speaks. “otherwise...” you close your eyes, feeling your cheeks warm, but force yourself to keep still. he sighs, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, his hands slowly wandering down to your sides. “otherwise, i’ll cry. i’ll cry myself to death! then you’ll really be sorry!” his fingertips dig into your sides, and you gasp and jolt at the sharp, ticklish pain.

you really should’ve known.

“kyojuro!” you halfheartedly shove at his chest, and he falls back, laughing. his voice is still a little thick, and his eyes are raw and he’s still shaking like a leaf, but he leans in and kisses you anyway. that’s all the forgiveness you two need for now.

(he tastes like salt.)

[well-its-not-human-anymore]

Hi! Could I get HC from the guys? 👀 How they would always react to catching the reader seeing them "badly", in addition to the fact that he usually avoids them, but with his brothers it is incredible and they feel bad because they think they do not like him.  But she actually likes them and she looks at them like that because she "studies" them to draw them and she is too clumsy and shy to talk to them, that's why she ends up avoiding them. Until finally he catches her drawing them with lots of hearts or maybe they'll find her notebook with lots of portraits of them.

It's kind of funny because when I study people to draw them, they think that I look at them with hatred xd maybe I should increase my glasses prescription

God, glasses are such a pain in the ass but I have to wear them. If I don't anyone within my near vicinity doesn't have a face. But why they gotta get dirty so easily???? Makes me wanna explode or something

TMNT Headcanons

The boys w/ a quiet reader who is fine with his brothers but acts cold around him and stares a lot

Michaelangelo

mikey couldn't describe his disappointment upon realizing that you didn't want to be friends with him

well, you never actually said that to him

but he was pretty sure it was the case

you'd never made an effort to be friends with him

stared at him an awful lot though, but there was always something off about your gaze when you looked at him

like you were sizing him up, scrutinizing him, like he was an opponent

it kinda worried him

to add to that, you didn't even attempt to look embarrassed when he caught you staring

you'd just stare harder

on your end it was quite the opposite

you always found the brothers fascinating and you LOVED studying their anatomy, you'd confessed this to Donnie early on and he happily indulged in your questions

and you loved how easily you got along with the boys

well, except for Mikey

but it wasn't for a lack of trying

whenever the orange sporting turtle came around your normally flamboyant personality crept back into its little corner and hid

any words of excitement that had previously been with you died in your throat

for the longest time you didn't understand it

and you hated not understanding things, so you turned to your only outlet

that's how you ended up with an entire sketchbook full of the youngest brother in vastly different styles and poses

you had a separate book for the others, none of them as detailed as this

and when you stared to analyze you'd fallen into a habit of not looking away when caught

by your logic, if you stared back hard enough he'd look away first or just assume you'd zoned out

he didn't

and on one hectic day you'd left your sketchbook open on the kitchen table in your rush to get to work

you hadn't even noticed the slip up until Leo texted you to let you know during your shift

instant panic

in truth, Mikey was the one who discovered the book upon waking up from his nap and he'd spent the next three hours analyzing every drawing

when you finally dropped in after work to grab your book the turtle was waiting for you with it in hand

he'd asked you if you hated him

you told him no and accepted your sketchbook from him

he was relieved and screaming excitedly, just in his head

"Do you maybe wanna hang out sometime?"

You sighed in relief and nodded

"If you're cool with it- you don't think I'm weird do you?"

"I mean- you are talking to a turtle..."

you lightly shoved his chest and smiled, although it faded within a second

"Oh hush, 10 o'clock tomorrow? I'll bring snacks."

he was so stunned he could only shoot you finger guns in approval

Donatello

Donnie genuinely couldn't understand your unease around him

he'd followed all the proper expectations of holding a conversation

he was polite and engaging

so why wouldn't you talk to him?

this boy has read so many social blogs to try and figure out what he was doing wrong and he just couldn't put his finger on it

you were fine with the rest of his brothers, you'd stay up for hours laughing and gaming with them

you'd even sat still long enough to listen to Leo explain some old Japanese myth that he'd read about in a book

but with him it was always a quick, cordial greetings and farewells with bland small talk in between

Donnie had picked up pretty quickly that you weren't interested in any sort of interaction with him

and he convinced himself that that was okay

but that didn't explain the staring

he'd caught you in the act several times, eyes narrowed and locked on him

especially when you were alone with him in a room or just in the lair

the poor turtle just couldn't put his finger on it

then he caught you drawing, he noticed early on that you always carried a small sketchbook on your person but he didn't think much of it

and it wasn't so much that he caught you drawing, in fact, he wouldn't have noticed if you hadn't snapped at him while he was trying to do a sudoku puzzle

"Damn it Donnie! Stop moving! If I fuck this arm up one more time I'm gonna decompose!"

he'd quickly moved back into the position he was in prior

"sorry?"

but you'd gone silent again, occasionally glancing up from your work and running your eyes along his frame before looking down again

nearly twenty minutes later Donnie had finished the puzzle and it seemed as though you had finished your drawing

"Uh- can I ask what are you-"

"I'm drawing you but you kept moving your arm and making me mess up. You always do that when I draw you so every damn picture I have of you stays a sketch because you always come out looking like a fucking octopus."

He just stared

"Sorry, I uh- I didn't mean to explode on you like that. I'm just- I'm really bad at talking to you okay? It's so easy with everyone else but you've just gotta be so damn smart all the time and I worry that you'll think I'm boring so I just... don't talk to you?"

Donnie is stunned™

You refuse to show him the drawing until you can complete the line art and color it

But at least he knows that you don't hate him

Leonardo

To be completely honest Leo didn't mind that you were distant from him

You created an aura of calm when you were around and you always managed to distract his brothers while you were present

And he enjoyed the alone time

But after a few months that calm acceptance turned into jealousy

Not that he would ever admit it

He would just push it off and ignore it, that usually seemed to work

So why wasn't it?

And your obvious staring problem didn't help at all

Leo didn't spend much time considering his appearance but something about your gaze made him self conscious

And he hated that with a passion

Why was it that you could hold entire debates with his siblings? Even his dad for gods sake. You'd have hour long conversations on almost everything but whenever he tried to say hello you'd make up some lame ass excuse and scamper away

He just wanted an explanation

It appeared that the answer resided in your sketchbook

You'd left it open on the couch when Raph had called you away to spar with him

Leo very delicately flipped through the pages, careful not to disturb some of the polaroid pictures of his brothers

He was admittedly surprised to find pictures of himself among the pages

One of him in a handstand, another of him meditating, there was even one of him mid sneeze that you'd recreated with pencil and paper

The image of his eyes was the most startling, but the book held no polaroid of his eyes

You drew them from memory

And he was shocked when you returned to the room and didn't immediately panic

But that might have been because he didn't try to withhold your book from you

"It took me three months to color them, your eyes. I could never get the shade of blue just right."

"I'm gonna be honest with you y/n, I really thought you didn't like me."

You had the nerve to roll your eyes and follow it with a laugh

"I don't. I mean- I do but no, you just remind me a lot of myself and I haven't exactly figured out why yet. I thought that maybe if I drew you it'd be easier to figure you out..."

"Well did it help?"

You grinned

"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

Raphael

If there was one thing Raph hated it was not understanding something that was right in front of him

which is ironic, as a much younger version of himself probably couldn't care less

and a part of him wishes he didn't care about it so much

he wishes that your blatant avoidance of him didn't upset him

but shit, it got under his skin better than any needle ever could

was it too much to ask for you to just tell him what he said or did wrong?

was he asking too much of you?

but on the same scale you'd never shown obvious dislike towards him, you were never rude and you sure as hell didn't talk shit about him to his brothers

you got along great with them

in fact it was getting more difficult to remember a time before you became a part of his family

he'd become so used to your presence that it no longer put him off when he found you hanging around the lair

but in another sense he was certain that you hadn't spoken more than three sentences to him in your time knowing him or his family

so what was the reason

several months in he finally caught onto the staring, your narrow, glassy gaze locked onto his body and refusing to look away

he stared right back at you

this annoyed you for several reasons

because within five seconds your very peaceful drawing session had turned into a staring contest and your eyes were getting VERY dry

then you exhaled in a half-sigh and looked back down at your paper

"Huh, I guess your head is more of an oblong shape..."

he took offense to this

"What tha' hell is that supposed t'mean?"

now your eyes held more of an amused silent judgement, you begrudgingly held up your sketchbook

"I'm drawing you, you fucking walnut."

"Oh..."

now you rolled you eyes and tossed the book to him, he nearly dropped it and fumbled with the pages

your annoyance was quickly growing

"Careful with that."

He flipped through the pages at a snails pace, assumingly because he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing

you had some real talent

when he looked back up at you he was wearing that crooked smile

"and here I was thinkin' that my eyes were just green."

Hope I was able to get this down pretty well! I really enjoyed writing this one! Thanks for the patience!

-Mars 🌠

[cas-kingdom]

Dad

A/N: Thank you to my anons for helping me come up with some perfectly Geralt-like explanations of parenthood. <3

Despite the summary, Geralt doesn't outright call Akela his daughter in a couple of these, but the point of the story is to show how he can call her that without actually saying it, if that makes sense. Still fluffy and (dangerously) sweet! Also a nice little Yennefer-Geralt scene here.

While writing number 4, I listened to 'Scared' by Jeremy Zucker.

Title: Dad

Summary: Three times Geralt called you his daughter, and the one time you called him ‘Dad’.

Words: 4607

1)

“I knocked it off the cart.” You crossed your arms over your chest. “Why would I try to steal something I have money to pay for?”

The old man’s face turned sourer, if that was at all possible. “Oh, you have money?” He expectantly stretched his hand out, palm up as his fingers twitched. “Pay me, then!”

You rolled your eyes. “But I’m not buying them!”

“You tried to steal them!”

“I did not!”

“I saw you!”

“What you saw,” you spat out, leaning forward, face the picture of anger, “was me bumping against your cart and knocking a couple apples off—which I apologised for.”

A noise somewhere between frustration and rage spewed from the man’s mouth and he shot his arm forward like a snake striking to attack, grasping the front of your tunic and tugging you forward. “Listen here, girl—”

You clenched your fists and readied to bite back, but before you even had a chance, the man’s hands were ripped from you, and he was shoved away.

“Get your hands off her,” a stony voice ground out, voice brooking no argument. Geralt stood tall and menacing in front of the hunched old man, head tilted slightly to the side as he glared at him. He knew you were often capable of looking after yourself, proven clearly when you stepped beside him and a look of smugness appeared on your face, but he also knew that that would likely never change how much the anger flourished inside him when he saw someone lay their hands on his child in a way such as this.

The old man pointed a shaky finger at Geralt. “You stay out of this, Sir!”

You scoffed, and Geralt spared a glance down at you, briefly raising a brow. “What, exactly, am I supposed to be staying out of?”

“The little bitch tried to steal my produce!”

“I didn’t!”

“The little bitch,” Geralt said, holding out an arm to stop you from lunging, “is my daughter. And if you ever speak in that manner to her again, you won’t be able to speak another word.”

The man looked ready to respond with vigour, but at the last moment his eyes averted to the sword and the daggers at Geralt’s waist, and the cogs in his brain began to turn as his vision wandered up to the white hair and the amber eyes. He shut his mouth and stepped back, resigned.

“Forgive me,” he said. He appeared as though he was ready to run before he grabbed one of the apples you had knocked off his cart and pressed it into your hands, a forced and nervy smile showing on his lips. “Here, take this!”

Your eyes lit up and you smiled victoriously, taking a bite from it and turning to walk off as you called back a quick, “Thank you!”

Geralt sighed deeply and hummed, giving the man a final glare before following after you. “He was right. You are a little bitch,” he remarked.

You grinned and tossed the apple in the air, the sunlight glinting on the green fruit as though in triumph. You handed it to him and watched as he relented with a roll of his eyes and took a bite. “Waste not, want not!”

2)

“What’s it like?”

Geralt lifted his head to look at Yennefer. She was lying on her side opposite the fire, her head resting in her hand, and she seemed contemplative. Curious, in a way, which was odd for her, though what could he really say about that? It wasn’t as though he’d known her long.

“I’m sorry?” he asked.

Yennefer jerked her head in the direction he’d been staring in for the majority of the past ten minutes, where you were fast asleep, curled under blankets, head beside Jaskier’s, who was wandering in the land of dreams himself.

He looked at you a moment longer before turning back to the mage. A hint of his own confusion danced in his eyes, but she spoke before he could open his mouth to question what it was that she meant.

“Parenthood,” she clarified, her voice softening. “What’s it like?”

Geralt rose an eyebrow, briefly floundering for words at the, quite frankly, surprising question. For a woman who was all invulnerability and strength, it was something he hadn’t expected to come from her. Not to mention he didn’t often think about what she’d asked.

He glanced away and shook his head. “More trouble than it’s worth,” he told her with a short breath of a laugh.

The corners of Yennefer’s lips drew upwards. She fidgeted with a stone on the forest floor. “I’m serious.”

His other eyebrow shot up. “So am I,” he assured her. “She may seem sweet, but underneath it all is the monster I’m most afraid to go up against.” He offered her a rare smile, which she returned, and for the first time in a while both mage and witcher felt peaceful. It was blissfully quiet—the only sound being Jaskier’s snores and incoherent mumbles—and it was dark, giving the two the serenity they needed after the trials of the previous days.

“It’s… hard,” he said seriously, despite the fact he was admitting that he, the infamous Geralt of Rivia, found something difficult. “You learn new things every day.”

“What kind of things?”

“Everything. About yourself, about her, about the world in general… you make decisions you probably would never have thought about before. You have responsibilities you wouldn’t have believed would ever be associated with you.” He let his eyes wander over to your sleeping form. “You don’t know what the hell you’re doing most of the time. You can feel so… so lost at it, right until you start to realise the only thing that’s keeping you grounded is the same thing that gave you the title of father. It…” He paused, leaning forward to poke a stick into the dying fire. “It gives you something to live for, and at the time I found Y/N, that was what I needed most.”

Yennefer’s lips curled into a smile as she slowly sat up, tucking her legs underneath her. “It sounds tiring,” she said, glancing down for a moment, and Geralt nodded.

“It is. But the rewards outweigh the difficulties. It’s something you’d give up everything to keep.” He looked across at her, noticing her loosened shoulders, and realised for the first time that he took his title of father for granted. Yennefer’s mutations had made her sterile, and though he was the same, he’d still somehow found a way to get past that, even though he’d never once pondered on the possibilities of it before he’d found you. Yennefer hadn’t been so lucky, and as he looked at her, he found that that reflected perfectly in the eyes he now viewed as… sad.

“You’ll feel that someday,” he said without thinking, and when she glanced up, he nodded in your direction. “When you have your own.”

Yennefer gazed at him, violet eyes piercing the amber of his. They stared at each other for a moment, no words passing their lips but every meaningful word being said nonetheless, until Jaskier snorted in his sleep and the both of them ripped their eyes away, returning to their stone and their stick.

“Thank you, Witcher,” Yennefer spoke up a moment later, and Geralt nodded once.

“You’re welcome, Mage.”

3)

Geralt turned his head down to look at you. You were standing beside him, absently tugging on the neckline of the dress you’d bought from a market that very morning. You were clearly irritated, sighing in annoyance and muttering under your breath every so often.

When you noticed him looking, you shook your head, face every bit unhappy. “I don’t want to be here,” you ground out.

He rose an eyebrow. “Clearly.”

“Why are we here again?”

“Lord Lyon invited us.”

“And how do you—” You scratched at the back of your neck, the foreign material rubbing it raw—“know Lord Lyon?”

Geralt glanced down again and frowned, slapping your hands away from your red neck. “I saved his sister from a werewolf,” he said, instinctively tucking a few strands of hair that hadn’t made it into your plait behind your ear, “and he insisted my attendance at his feast tonight.”

You rose an eyebrow at that, finally relenting in your fiddling and letting your arms hang loosely. “Your attendance,” you picked out. “I could have stayed at the inn.” He ignored that, as you expected, and you sighed, shoulders slacking. “You never usually care for extra repayment,” you said. And it was true. He didn’t. He preferred to do his duty as a witcher and not stick around to see the aftermath of his hunt, except to accept his money. He didn’t care for physical shows of thanks. It was better that way, for you and for him. But he’d, for once, genuinely been concerned for the lord’s sister, so he’d accepted the invitation with the intention of only staying long enough to gain information on her wellbeing before leaving.

Geralt lifted his chin as he noticed a familiar man enrobed in silk and jewels walking towards you. He took in a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the conversation ahead of undoubtedly mindless babble about his life and anything else the lord wished to ask him.

“And you never usually say no to free food,” he remarked quietly to you before forcing a tight smile at the open-armed, freely grinning man when he stopped in front of him.

“Geralt of Rivia!” he greeted, and you turned your head to meet him, only just refraining from raising your brows at the sight that met your eyes. You weren’t used to seeing royalty or regality of any sort, so you were never one to shy from your overly dramatic opinions of how these people dressed and carried themselves. You were quite certain all the clothes on your body wouldn’t amount to the price of a single ring on his finger, even though you’d had to beg Geralt for weeks to buy you the new leather boots on your feet now, just about hidden by your long dress.

Geralt had made an attempt to dress nicely, too. He’d washed and brushed his hair—and made several mock lunges (and one actual one) for you when you’d continued to tease him about it—and was wearing clothes that, though giving him an extremely regal look of his own, seemed unfamiliar to you. You much preferred him in his loose tunics and trousers, hair muddy and tangled in knots that he wouldn’t give a shit about until he needed to (which was barely ever, unless you were counting surprise and sudden invites to feasts such as this).

“Lord Lyon,” Geralt said with a small nod. “How is your sister?”

The lord reached forward to clap him on the shoulder, and this time, you did raise a brow, knowing your witcher’s dislike for such actions. Sure enough, Geralt’s smile grew tighter, and you could see the lines on his forehead become more pronounced. Perhaps in different circumstances—definitely in different circumstances—you would have laughed at his predicament, despite his clear discomfort, nevertheless this time you had to do with quickly turning your head to the side and stifling a grin.

“My sister fares well!” Lyon told him, not removing his hand. “She’s been asleep since you returned her safely to me, but the healers assure me she will make a full recovery. Thank you again for your unforgettable help, my friend!”

“Thank you for inviting me here tonight.”

Lyon stepped back, finally letting his hand drop to his side, and the corners of your lips twitched when Geralt subconsciously rolled his shoulder. “Well, this is the only other way I could think of repaying you when coin did not seem enough. A good meal!” It was at this moment, when you were shuffling from foot to foot in boredom, almost reverting back to your scratching and tugging, that Lyon noticed you, and he rose both eyebrows, glancing between you and Geralt. “And who might this be?”

“Y/N,” Geralt introduced, stopping you with a firm hand to your shoulder. You looked up at the lord, offering a smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I brought her.”

Lyon tilted his head slightly to the side in obvious interest, disregarding Geralt’s last sentence with a wave of his hand. “You mean she’s yours? Your daughter?”

You continued to stare at the man in front of you, unbothered. You were well used to being called his daughter—it was easier for him to agree when people asked if you were, and you sometimes wondered when exactly he’d given up on correcting people. If he’d ever corrected people in the first place.

“Your daughter?” Lyon repeated at Geralt’s lack of response.

“Yes.”

“I thought… well.” He looked a little sheepish, but Geralt was all too aware of what was coming. “I was always told that the trials witchers underwent made them—”

Geralt interrupted him before he could continue. “They did. I am.” He squeezed your shoulder. “She’s not mine by blood. But she is mine.”

Lyon stared a while, thinking to himself, before he abruptly smiled in acceptance. “Very good. Though I would never have taken you for the parent type.”

“My apologies,” Geralt said, inclining his head, “but you don’t know me well enough to make that assumption.”

A soft smile graced your lips and you glanced down to the ground, your heart swelling with love you could only ever feel for him.

“Quite right.” Lyon was clearly apologetic. He opened an arm out and motioned for the two of you to follow him. “Come, let us eat. You can tell us all exactly how you killed that werewolf!”

The hilariously dismayed look Geralt sent you after that made you snort.

4)

How had it come to this?

“Geralt?” you whispered, daring to edge closer. He looked so pale, even in the short rays of moonlight radiating down. His skin was pallid, white hair muddied and hanging in knots around his face. His eyes were shut, his lips were set in a straight line, and even as you shook his shoulder, he did not move.

He did not move.

Geralt always moved. He had long since trained himself to wake at the first sound or touch that did or didn’t come from you. And yet now, even as you doubled your attempts and shook him so hard you were sure he’d be disorientated were he awake… he remained still. Still and silent. Completely dead to the world.

Dead.

Your heart soared, not for the first time, and you sat back on your haunches for a moment, staring with eyes as wide as the yellow moon looming over head. It was almost as though your unconscious mind was waiting for him to wake up. Willing him to wake up. Because you knew good and fucking well that without him, the point of remaining in the living was completely lost on you.

Reluctantly, your mind swiftly hurled you back. Back into damn memories of the swings of his sword and his shouts of exertion and pain as he fought with the monster that had suddenly stormed where you’d been resting. You should have stayed behind the rocks as he’d ordered… you shouldn’t have listened to the clash of metal hitting sturdy skin and bone… and you certainly shouldn’t have jumped up from behind the rock and screamed his name, leading him to whirl around in panic and giving the beast time to throw him against a large boulder. You could still remember the sickening crack of his head hitting the solid stone. That would have been the perfect time to scream his name, but you’d found that no words had been able to escape your clenched throat. You’d felt like you were being strangled, and your heart had stopped beating for the longest second as you’d watched with absolute terror…

He’d been telling you a story. You’d been lying beside him, exhausted eyes staring up at the starry sky as his voice lulled you to sleep. You couldn’t even remember what the story had been about, all you’d been focused on was the comfort his voice offered, and for that reason you had not registered at all when he’d abruptly stopped speaking. He’d waited a moment, eyes narrowed, before quietly standing to his feet, picking up his sword as he went. All his senses had been alert, and were he an animal, his ears would have been pricked up and forwards, listening for any noise that sounded at all abnormal.

He’d taken calculated steps forward, hands tight around his sword’s hilt, boots making no sound as he stepped over fallen leaves and twigs. And then he’d stopped, standing completely still, save for his eyes, which roved the area in front of him. He’d turned his head the slightest bit and harshly whispered your name, but it had not been enough to rouse you, and you’d stayed sleeping until less than three seconds later when what you now believed to have been a kikimora burst from the cover of the trees, screaming raucously and lunging towards Geralt. You’d bolted upright and he’d yelled at you to hide yourself as his sword came clashing down on the thing, not waiting to see if you’d done as was asked before moving to attempt to lead the monster away.

That had been only three minutes ago. One and a half minutes ago, he’d been thrown against the boulder. One minute ago, he’d managed to use the last of his strength to pierce the beast’s hide with a cloying crunch, mixing with both his and the kikimora’s shrieks of agony. You had looked on with trembling hands as it fell to the side, completely unmoving, and watched, waited, for Geralt to stand to his feet.

When he hadn’t, you’d taken one trembling step forward, hands cold and in fists at your sides, before running the rest of the way, not caring in the least that there was a possibility the monster might still be alive. All you’d cared about was the possibility that Geralt might not be.

You stared at him now, hopefully waiting for his eyelids to flicker, or a finger to twitch… but there was no movement.

You shook him again, harder now, but it didn’t work, and with a desperation you had never felt before, and your breathing quicker than ever, you hurried closer towards him, grabbing the sides of his face and shaking him, slapping him, hitting him… anything that had a chance of waking him.

“Geralt!” you shouted, voice cracking. You slapped him again, pausing only when you felt something wet and sticky coat your right hand. When you pulled it back, the sight of red met your eyes.

You stared at it for a moment, hands shuddering, before the red and the blackness of everything else melded into one as tears filled your eyes. A tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath was all that was heard before gut-wrenching sobs tore through your chest and you fell forward, clutching your bloody hand to your chest and squeezing your eyes shut as your grief poured from you in an onslaught of irrepressible tears.

“Please, please, wake—wake up!” you choked out, your forehead resting against his chest, hands gripping his ragged tunic. “Please! I can’t—I can’t—Please! Geralt! You can’t die! You’re a witcher! Witchers don’t die! Wake up!”

But he didn’t.

You harshly breathed in with as much effort as you could muster, and the smell of blood overpowered your senses… yet, at the same time, there was still that hint of forest and greenery which made him Geralt. The scent that was often the only thing that could make you fall asleep. The scent that you only had to catch for a moment before you immediately calmed. The scent that, even now, amidst your hiccups and sobs, caused the briefest feeling of serenity to swirl through you before it vanished as the new, metallic aroma abruptly tickled at your nose.

Another sob racked your body when the scent disappeared and you shook your head. “Daddy…” It came out as a mewling whine, so broken and utterly devastating that it would have made even the heartless cry along with you, but there was no other sound… no other noise in the darkness of the forest around you except the guttural cries wrenching from your throat.

It was the feeling of being alone which scared you the most. The feeling of… being without the one person who’d ever made an ounce of sense to you. The one person you loved more than life itself and who probably loved you even more than that.

You would rather die alongside him than live in a world you knew he no longer walked in.

A moment passed, and you sat there, hunched over with your head on his chest and your tired hands slowly slacking in their hold on his tunic. Your eyes were red and swollen, cheeks wet and tracking the mud and blood which had inadvertently transferred from his clothing to your face, and you were shaking so much that when a slight tremor rippled beneath you, you took no notice of it whatsoever.

At an exhausted yet almost incoherent groan, you blinked, opening your eyes despite it doing nothing against the blackness of you face pressed to him. You tried to silence your cries as much as you could, holding your breath, not quite willing to believe it but hoping more than you’d ever hoped before all the same.

“Fuck…”

And you bolted upright, your eyes blinking against the blurriness. You wiped at them, your heart thumping, blood pulsing through your distraught and exhausted body, and looked on with shock as Geralt—yes, Geralt!—slowly raised his arm and brought his hand to the back of his head. His eyes squeezed tightly shut as his brows furrowed in obvious pain.

“My fucking head,” he rasped out, and you let loose a noise of relief, suddenly and without warning bursting into tears once again. You launched forward, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his chest. He groaned and finally opened his eyes to peer down at the mop of hair in his line of vision.

He gulped down the sickly feeling in his gut as best he could, trying to make sense of his surroundings, and after a moment the memories returned to him, causing him to shut his eyes once more at the force of it. He returned his attention to you, lowering his hand to place it on the back of your head.

When your sobs grew, his frown deepened and he tried to lift his own head, swallowing back bile when the throbbing ache increased. He felt nauseatingly terrible and instead dropped his head back to the hard rock below him. “Hey…” he whispered. His voice was hoarse and he didn’t really trust the words coming from his mouth. “It’s alright.”

You shook your head. “N-no! It is-isn’t! I thought you were dead!”

He sighed unsteadily and moved his trembling fingers through your hair, trying his best to block out the discomfort (which was a nice word for agony). “I’m not dead,” he told you, and you finally lifted your head, showing him the extent of your hysteria. You looked as though you’d been bawling for years, and he shook his head softly, raising his other arm to wrap around you and pull you back towards him. His head was pounding, he knew he was bleeding in more places than one, but to be perfectly honest, he was simply happy to be alive, and to be holding his child in his arms, however much he would be covered in tears and snot by the time he finally gathered the strength to push himself up.

“I thought you were,” you croaked out, and he rubbed his thumb across your temple. You reached up, grasping his hand, and he narrowed his eyes, blinking at the sight of blood coating your own.

“Is th-that yours?” he asked, the words feeling funny on his tongue as he stumbled over them. You sniffed and glanced to where he had turned your hand over in his.

“No,” you said, “it’s yours.” At that open revelation and reminder, you lifted your eyes, haphazardly wiping your hair from your face and blinking against the tears that still didn’t seem to be stopping. “It’s from your head. Does it hurt?”

Geralt’s face contorted into one of pain yet again as he reached his hand to his head, bringing it back and intaking a sharp breath once he saw the blood. “Damn,” he grumbled. “Yes, it hurts. Like hell.”

You unconsciously bit at the inside of your cheeks and watched him as he lowered his arm and shut his eyes. Your heart continued to pound and every so often your ragged breaths were interrupted by a hiccup. “I’m sorry,” you muttered after a short while.

He blearily opened his eyes to look at you. “Why?”

“I called your name,” you told him, “and you turned around.”

He nodded faintly in remembrance. “Why?” he repeated.

“I don’t know.” You swallowed thickly, tears fogging your vision again. “I was stupid. I just… got so scared, and I didn’t—I didn’t want you to… to…”

At your rising distress, he pulled you down to his chest again, ensuring your ear was conveniently placed over the left side of his chest. His heart was slow—perhaps a little faster than normal yet still slow all the same—but in the silence of the forest he knew you would be able to hear it and let it soothe you.

It worked, and the two of you stayed there for a while. Geralt fixed his attention on his own breathing, trying to match yours as he felt your pulse through his hands. He wondered briefly how far the nearest village was and if he could risk asking for medical help. Perhaps he could reach Triss in Novigrad, and both he and you would have a safe place to recuperate.

His muddled mind was interrupted when he turned his head and noticed the kikimora for the first time, lying in a rotten clump on the ground a couple feet from him. He swallowed the knot in his throat and shut his eyes, remembering all too clearly what had happened and, more importantly, how close it had been to getting you. Unconsciously, his hands tightened around you, and he slowly breathed out, calming himself before he let his emotions reign over him. You didn’t need to see that.

“It’s alright,” he said softly, more to himself, but it assured your all the same.

“Next time, I want to fight with you. I don’t want to watch. I’ve been trained for these moments.”

“We’ll talk about it later.”

“I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Leave you?” He shook his head. “No, no, never…”

He shut his eyes. He knew that the day he left you would be the day the stars burned out and the world became shrouded in darkness. To leave you would be to leave his heart, and that was the one thing that, no matter how battered and bruised, he would hold onto and keep safe with every fibre of his being.

It was his duty, after all.

As your father.

Witcher Masterpost