#I had so much fun working on this project (♥´ ▽｀♥) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mangoshorthand · 1 year

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Hello! I saw your Five Hargreeves oneshots and wanted to submit one if that's alright. Could you do one where the reader has a fascination with hypnosis and tries it out of Five. It works, but it ends up affecting them both more than they thought, leading to smut. I loved the way the reader took care of Five in Lucking Fucking Pillow and I like the idea of Five letting his mind shut off in order to take a break. If you don't want to do hypnosis can I request some Sub!Five fluff/smut? Thank you!♥

Not the biggest fan of hypno so I went for Sub!Five fluff/smut. I tried to incorporate the idea of Five taking a break and being mesmerised, (even if not literally!). Hope you enjoy xx

In Your Hands | Five Hargreeves/ GN Reader 3.1k words, Rated E

He thought retirement was all he wanted: he envisioned himself kicking back, perhaps taking up fishing or birdwatching or golf or whatever old dogs like him were supposed to do. So, at first, he threw himself into it, wearing a lot of khaki, flannel and tennis shoes and wandering around the city waiting for relaxation to occur.

But, somehow, it never seemed to happen: fishing and birdwatching made him want to tear out his hair, golfers were all assholes (plus he could never get the fucking ball to go where he wanted it to) and he very quickly exhausted his appetite for museums, art galleries and attractions.

The resulting feeling was very much like boredom. With dismay, he found that he was as ill-suited to an idle life as he was to khaki and flannel. Perhaps it was having the body and brain chemistry of someone in his early twenties, or maybe it was something more essential. It wasn’t, as his siblings liked to insist, that he got off on the thrill of an impending apocalypse, but Five’s was certainly a mind that needed a bone to gnaw on.

His first project was his car. He’d first scoured the country for the perfect 1970 Corvette Stingray and then fixed it up to his liking. For months, he could be found in Academy’s parking garage, head under the hood or entirely underneath the jacked-up car and cursing softly as he tweaked, tinkered and optimized the engine.

He was obsessed, living on the intricacies of the work. The mechanical nature of it appealed to his meticulous nature: the little problems to smooth away and the occasional need to think outside the box. He would lie awake at night, brain raking over how to coax the reluctant carburetor into better operation again and again.

As much fun as he had, as with every project, there came a point where he couldn’t do any more. When the car returned from the body shop with a reconstructed paint job, she was in as perfect condition as such an old car could be- there was nothing for him to do but drive her. This was enjoyable, but didn’t give his brain enough to chew on long term.

So, since then, he threw out the idea of retirement along with the incongruous clothing. He just let his brain carry him wherever it wanted to go: sometimes that was recreation and relaxation, at other times it was chasing his latest obsession.

But there was a problem: when ‘on the job’, Five knew no moderation. He’d work on this latest thing for hours into the night, neglecting you and running himself ragged into the bargain. It came of having to obsess in order to stay alive during the apocalypse; he’d learned this crazed single-mindedness there, and it was as if he knew no other way to be.

So when you found him in his dad’s office, hair sticking up in all directions and surrounded by stacks of books, newspapers and an entire chalkboard’s worth of calculations, you sighed heavily.

“What are you on this time, Five?”

“Samuel Shawcross!”

“What?”

“Samuel Shawcross,” he repeated, flicking through the pages of a book feverishly.

“You mean the…aerospace guy?”

“Exactly!” he said, a slightly mad look in his eye, “The billionaire owner of Atlas Aerospace, both famed and mocked for his researches into time travel. An asshole who's shadier than a ten foot parasol.”

You snort laughter at this, but amusement fades as you watch him flip over the chalkboard to write on the other face.

“Billionaires are always shady. Look at your dad.”

“I know!” he said, impatiently, dropping the chalk “and that’s exactly the problem. He and Dad- they knew one another. They were working on stuff together! Look. Look at this!”

He handed you a piece of paper, dated a short while before Reginald’s death. It seemed like the final page of a letter.

-the success of my latest round of testing, I can surmise that it will be extremely appealing to you as well as our associates. I intend for it to be ready within the next decade. Onwards and upwards! Your friend, Samuel Shawcross

You look from the letter, back up at Five.

“Where’s the rest of it?”

“That’s exactly the problem,” he said, beginning to pace like a caged tiger, “it’s nowhere.”

“But it could mean anything.” you say, confused.

“Don’t you get it?” he said, eyes wide, “The old man was an asshole but he sure as hell wasn’t slapdash. If the other half of this letter is gone, then it means that Dad deliberately destroyed it or someone else took it. And the only reason either of those things would happen is if it was sensitive information!”

You looked down at the letter and then doubtfully back up at him.

“Five, it’s been years since your father died. How many people have been in and out of here since then? It could just have been lost. Knocked off a table or something and then thrown out. You told me Klaus ransacked this place.”

“That letter says this device could be ready any time now. We gotta know what it is, surely? If some idiot like Shawcross gets his hands on time travel then we’re all on paradox highway, heading to kugel-town!”

You dropped the letter on the desk and took him by the lapels, feeling his fast breathing. His raised heart rate was perceptible even beneath layers of fabric.

“You’re running away with yourself, Five. Who says this is a time travel device? Who says it’s a device of any kind? Maybe it’s a…a recipe for a really great cocktail or something?”

“What cocktail recipe takes ten years to develop?” he said, though sounding slightly less sure.

“Isn’t this for the Commission to deal with, anyway?” you say, quietly, pressing your body against his, “Why, when they have the Infinite Switchboard, is this down to one sexy boy and his chalkboard?”

The back of his thighs hit his father’s desk. He swallowed, his sturdy adam’s apple bobbing as he looked into your eyes. He found that they pulled his inexorably into their own depths.

smut below cut

Suddenly, what had consumed him so fully seemed less important to focus on than the insistent press of your body and the tug of your eyes. Yet he couldn’t quite stop the whirring of his mind. The little ‘what ifs’ and ‘whys’ churned and fired away like the engine of his Corvette.

You turned your attention to his throat, to the prominence of cartilage that had betrayed his interest. You leaned towards him and laid a kiss there. It was a small kiss: barely more than a peck, but his skin lit up with gooseflesh.

You smirked at the sight.

Five felt his jaw go slack as you moved your face to whisper in his ear, making sure your breath fluttered across his neck along a slow, teasing path.

“Are you stressed, baby?” you whispered, oh-so quietly.

He nodded dumbly, your voice running into his ears like honey, obscuring all other sounds.

“That big old brain of yours giving you trouble?”

“Yes,” he croaked, letting his knees go and leaning against the desk for support.

“So clever, aren’t you? Sometimes it’s nice to just…let go.”

He didn’t respond, instead closing his eyes as one of your hands crept to the other side of his neck and stroked him lazily. The already pebbled skin bristled and a pleasant chill crept down his spine.

He so wanted to let go. He moved into your touch, quietly asking for more.

At this, you hummed delightedly into his ear.

““You always take such good care of me, Five.” you whispered, “You even try to take care of the whole world…but let me take care of you for once. Just let it all go.”

He nodded again, not trusting his voice.

“Shall I help you relax?”

Another nod.

“I don’t hear you, Five,” you said, with a touch of playful reproach.

“Yes please,” he whispered, quickly; eager to please.

You kissed his lips and felt him yield easily to your caresses. You burrowed your hands into his hair, pulling gently. He made a small noise into your mouth and melted into you further: letting himself be kissed. Your lips, firm but soft, communicated all you wanted to tell him: tonight, he was in your hands.

As a sharp heat built within you, you withdrew, unable to help nibbling at his lower lip as you did so.

He looked at you with a patiently expectant expression: ready for you to do with him as you wished. To you, Five was always perfect, but in this mood? He looked practically edible as he looked back at you. His swollen lips were parted, shining with traces of salvia. His fine green eyes were guileless and mesmerized. Undeniably delectable.

You felt a rush of something as you looked at him. So cute and charming, it actually hurt. There was nothing to do but grab his tie and twist it in your fingers, your other hand drifting down his body.

He let out a soft ‘oh’ as you cupped his clothed crotch, weighing his arousal in your hand.

“Hard already?” you said, as if disbelieving, “you must really need me, huh?”

He capitulated to the game without a second thought: it was the path of least resistance now that his cock was as hard as a battering ram and throbbing with the need to feel skin on skin.

“I do, I really need you,” he breathed.

“Are you desperate?” you said, giving his swollen package a little squeeze.

“Yes,” he groaned, “I’m desperate, okay?”

You stepped smartly away from him and he took confused half-step forward to follow you but you turned on your heel and walked swiftly away.

“W-wait,” he said, uncomprehendingly, “please don-”

But he understood as he heard the key click in the lock, locking the door of his father’s office against would-be intruders. You turned back to face him.

“Get undressed baby.”

He nodded again, grateful and certain in the knowledge that he was safe in your hands. He shrugged off his jacket as his numb fingers fumbled with his waistcoat. It was hard to concentrate on the task, so befuddled was his brain. This was complicated further by the sight before him. As his layers of clothing fell away, so did yours. You’d already stripped off your top, revealing the chest that he could never tire of touching, stroking and kissing.

His gorgeous eyes followed you reverently as you removed the rest of your clothes and moved to sit behind the desk. You leaned back comfortably in the commodious desk chair., noting with amusement the way he tripped over his own pants and underwear as he took them off.

Soon, he was standing there in only his socks.

“Come here,” you said, patting your knee, “come and sit nice and close against me, okay?”

He obeyed, looking around uncertainly just as he was about to sit, unsure how you wanted him. Taking him around the waist, you guided him onto your lap.

“That’s it baby. Lean back. Feel me against you.”

He sighed as he did so, losing himself in your touch: in your palm rubbing a comforting circle onto the firm plates of his lower stomach. He reclined fully, resting his head beside yours, his neck forming a graceful arch.

He let out a little puff of air at the feeling of your warmth: the closeness of being cradled this way. It was bliss and it held the promise of more bliss to come.

“I got you, sweetie.”

He made a little noise in response and, smiling, you pecked gently at his pulse point. There, his heart was coming to a slower, steadier rhythm as he relaxed into you. His breathing, you noticed, was becoming deeper, even as his cock stood out proud; a loud exclamation point between his thighs.

You kissed again and again at his neck, the backs of your fingers drifting up and down his stomach. Five didn’t verbally object to this little tease, but couldn’t stop himself nuzzling and butting softly at your cheek, asking you to take him in hand in much the same way as an insistent cat might ask to be petted.

When you didn’t immediately give in, he squirmed against you, restlessly. Spreading his legs wide and arching his back. You hissed in air as his perfect ass wiggled sinfully against your crotch.

Then, it was his turn to hiss as your fingers, on their drift down his stomach, brushed against his swollen, deep pink tip. When you flittled your fingers back up his stomach, he actually whined.

“Please. Please touch me properly down there.”

He certainly sounded desperate.

“It’s okay, baby,” you said, kissing his temple, “of course I will.”

So you wrapped your fingers around his shaft and he made a sweet, formless, high pitched little sound.

He exceeded your hand’s grasp, but not by so much that he couldn’t feel completely enveloped by you. As you massaged his straining dick, you smoothed away the final, lingering preoccupation of his mind, his hitherto furrowed brow clearing and settling into smoothness.

You and the mounting pleasure were the only real things to him as you stroked him, your other hand ghosting lightly across his thigh. He sighed softly, spreading his legs even wider for you as the hand moved to cup and softly rub his balls, your thumb working in a slow, languid circle.

“Feel good, darling?”

He nodded against your cheek, body going heavy in your arms. One hand gripped the buttoned leather of the chair’s arm, and the other stretched back, over his head to brace himself against the chair’s back.

As you stroked him this way, there was just enough of Five left to be satisfied by this situation. What a way to stick it to the old man! What would he say if he knew that Number Five was getting jacked off in his desk chair? What better middle finger to the old bastard than by desecrating his precious study by being a total slut in here?

But as your warm, clever fingers brought him closer to the edge, all thoughts of Reginald were (thankfully) driven away by the deep desire smoldering in his guts, his tingling nerves and the mounting adrenaline.

He groaned a soft ‘oh’ as your hand delivered a particularly harsh jolt of pleasure.

You kissed his cheekbone.

“I love making you feel good, baby.”

He only sighed in response.

Your hand briefly left his shaft to swipe at the pearl of precome beading heavily at his tip. Half of this, you rubbed down the length of his shaft, to slicken your hand as you finished him. You gathered the rest, however, wet, hot and sticky on your finger tips.

You raised it to his face and his lips parted. An eager tongue lapped and licked at the seed coating your fingers.

“You like that?” you asked, delightedly

“Yes,” he breathed, recovering himself enough to speak, “fuck, I think I’d like anything you want to give me.”

“God, I love you,” you gushed, unable to stop yourself smiling at his complete change in attitude; the swing straight from manic energy to submissive desire.

“I love you.” he babbled, “I love you so much.”

At this, he angled his face up towards yours with needy entreaty, so gave him the asked-for attention and kissed him again. He was going to come quickly: you could tell by the way he suckled gently but needily at your lips.

When you broke apart, his heavily-lidded eyes didn’t leave your face, looking up at you with hazy adoration. You kissed his silky hair and held his gaze.

“I’m going to make you come now, baby. I’m going to make you feel so good.”

“Yes.” he murmured, “Yes please.”

You sped your strokes, his tip making a satisfying thwap thwap thwap against your thumb on each upstroke.

His asscheeks tensed and his hips jumped upward to meet your ministrations, whispering a steady stream of rhapsodic affirmations.

“Yes,” he said, “Yeeesss. Oh God, please!”

Tight little moans were creaking from deep in his throat. He sounded like a tiny, feral thing caught in a death grip.

You grasped him tighter and he whined, socked feet scraping and whispering against the turkish rug as he struggled for purchase. His hip bones stood out against his skin as he curled backwards, rubbing his hair into further disarray against your shoulder.

“Fuuccck.”

“God, Five, you make me crazy.” you whispered, “You’re so fucking hot.”

“Mmmph!”

“Yeah, come on: that’s it.”

And then, at your encouragement, his cock pumped against your grasp. His hips surged forwards helplessly with each throb. He gasped shrilly, bucking and grinding against you and crying out in rapture.

“There you go baby,” you said, voice full of lascivious satisfaction, “There you go.”

You lengthened your downstrokes, milking him for all the pleasure you could, noting with satisfaction the way his come splashed copiously onto your arm and wrist.

“Yes. Oh fuck. Yes. Fuck,” he chanted, “Yes. Fuck yes. Thank you!”

His thighs trembled like a nervous terrier as you pulled the final few spurts of come out of him. As the ropes turned to drops, the trembling lessened into sporadic twitches. He breathed long, shaky ‘Ohs’ into your ear as he enjoyed the waning spikes of satisfaction. Gradually, you slowed and then stopped your hand.

Five lay spent against you, his breathing relaxed but shallow. His eyes were closed, head leaning entirely on yours. There was nowhere for you to go with him weighing you down, so you ignored the come getting tacky on your skin and folded your arms around his chest.

“Did I make you feel good, baby?”

A confirmatory grunt sounded from his throat. Clearly, he was in no state to say more. So you took the rare opportunity of Five’s being silenced to whisper to him:

“I love you. You’re so perfect. I love taking care of you like this. You deserve it, sweetie: you really do. You need to relax a little, okay? Get out of your own head now and then. You can’t always be on the go.”

He made no answer but a sleepy smile. After a couple of minutes of silence, you spoke to him again.

“Are you still planning to investigate Samuel Shawcross?”

“Who?” he said, a trace of humor in his dragging voice.

“Attaboy,” you said, placing a final kiss into his hair.

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

#sorry I suck at choosing gifs #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you

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crimsonbubble · 11 months

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Arsksskskkd I'm being artistic™️ right now and my back hurts and so I'm just thinking about Miguel having an artistic partner. Standing behind them as they work while slowly massaging their back so they're not so tense (still thinking about the "male spiders give their potential mates backrubs to court them" article I still can't find). Leaving kisses on their neck and asking questions. "Why'd you erase that?" "Why'd you switch to colored pencils?? I thought you were using watercolors?" "What does this do??" "What's the difference between this pencil and this one?? Why'd you switch??" So here's a mini fic about that. Have fun. You can totally write a fic of this if you want, too, I just love this prompt ♥︎

Imagine artistic!reader having a little shop downtown (my downtown roads are paved by bricks instead of the road and it seems like time goes to the past so I'm putting it that way sort of). Selling portraits of the regulars that walk in. Painting landscapes.

Miguel walks in looking for this universe's spider. Seeing how talented reader is and he becomes a regular. They study his face to make him a portrait and realize "Oh fuck. He's really pretty." Around the same time, Miguel realizes he's liking reader too. They give him the portrait since he's been visiting their shop at least once a week for the past couple of months and they're both ~flustered~ but refuse to admit they're falling for each other.

Soon after they give him the portrait, Miguel finds that universe's spiderperson. He thinks he recognizes their voice but isn't quite sure where to place it.

Then comes the "Oh Fuck™️" moment when he walks in on them without their mask.

Mouth agape and staring semi-wide-eyed, he realizes it's the portrait shop owner. The talented one. The one he thought was pretty.

He'd never seen them without their mask. In the shop they'd worn a mask, but he had assumed it was because of the paint fumes or something else.

Not because of the scar.

He awkwardly walks out of the room as reader covers their cheek/mouth area. Neither of them spoke about it again.

Eventually, they confess to each other and reader slowly gets more comfortable with their mask off because of Miguel's praise and assurance. Overcoming their insecurity slowly, starting with just an hour without it, to a day or two, to a week, and so on until it's barely on anymore. And when it is, Miguel is still lovey and assures them they're perfect and that he loves them so much ❤️

#########

Absolutely had no idea what I was doing with this one I just suddenly had a Thought and then it turned into Motivation ♥︎ hope you enjoyed my lil blurb

Totally not self-projecting because I have a bigass scar on my face nope thats not what's happening leave me alone

♥︎♡♥︎♡♥︎

IM SOBBING THIS IS SO CUTE TvT

#PSTING THIS BLANK BC OMFG ITS SO FCKN GOOD #ALSO YOU HAVE A SCAR??? THATS ACC REALLY COOL !!!#bubbly speaks <3 #ash answers #waltzthegenderfluidpan #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #spiderverse x you #spiderverse x reader #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagines #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara headcanons

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 9 months

Text

...the unholy flames of ♥kink!week♥ burn brightly... (don't know what kink week is? click here!)

‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊ ♡ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ °̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥ ♡ ‧̍̊·̊‧̥°̩̥˚̩̩̥͙°̩̥‧̥·̊‧̍̊

∼ the unholy week nears its end, and today we venture into the murky waters of dubious consent — what monsters await us there? ∼

∼ day six brings us our beloved villain ♥ Captain Phasma ♥ ∼

∼ tags and the fic are under the cut ∼

♥ i've worked very hard on this series — it was a huge project to undertake and i would very much appreciate if you left me comments with your thoughts and impressions — you already know they make my heart sing ♥ (AO3 link — i prefer it to tumblr vastly)

tags: #rape/non-con elements #tentacle rape #tentacles #tentacle sex #tentacle monsters #dubious consent #extremely dubious consent #face-fucking #triple penetration #double penetration #anal sex #power dynamics #power struggle #choking #fainting #dom/sub #forced submission #rape #multiple orgasms #kink!week

easy prey (clicking on the title will lead you to ao3)

Captain Phasma sometimes manages to catch a breath in-between missions. Sometimes, she has a night off, and sometimes, on such nights, she lets herself blow off some steam — always, she does it by picking up a pretty thing, usually at a bar, and having some fun with her. She has a type she usually goes for — she prefers a pretty, human(oid) female that appreciates a firm hand.

She isn’t too picky, however, after weeks spent aboard a stuffy spaceship.

She’d never been to this bar — nor this planet. She doesn’t know much about this part of the galaxy, nor does she care to learn. Her plan for tonight is to hang out by the bar, get reasonably tipsy, and see if there’s a pretty girl she could have a good time with.

It doesn’t take long to spot her.

She’s gorgeous. Long, wavy hair down to her waist, dark, glowing skin so smooth it doesn’t look real, full lips that are made to appear ever plumper with glittery lipgloss, broad shoulders, skimpy bright blue dress that looks almost neon against her skin tone and barely covers anything. She’s just the right balance between muscular and soft. She dances alone with a drink in hand, paying no attention to the swarm of people trying to approach her and talk to her. She firmly pushes away anyone who tries to grind against her or gets too handsy.

Phasma needs to have her.

She waits until the girl gets bored of dancing and goes to the bar to buy another drink. The girl leans on the bar as she waits, her bare, toned back partially turned to Phasma.

“Not interested in a good time?” Phasma asks.

The girl turns towards her. Phasma is immediately struck by how unnaturally — how beautifully — blue her eyes are. If Phasma knew — or cared — about particular colour shades, she’d call them ultramarine blue. They are accentuated by glittery eyeshadow, and seem to shine in a way that’s just slightly unnerving and uncanny, indicating she might not be quite human, despite appearing so — but Phasma doesn’t care to analyse her genealogy. The girl seems human enough for activities that Phasma has in mind.

The girl smiles. “Not with those desperate bastards over there, that’s for sure.”

Her teeth are pearly white and shiny, and perhaps a bit sharper than Phasma had expected — but her voice is smooth, melodious and lilting, and Phasma forgets all about the teeth. She wants to hear more of that voice, wants to make this girl moan her name — or, preferably, her title.

“If you’re tired of desperate bastards groping you on the dance floor, you could sit here with me — have a nice chat.”

The girl eyes Phasma up and down, lingering on her muscular arms before looking her in the eye and smiling even brighter. Her blue eyes and her sharp teeth seem to shine in the dim light — the visual is a bit eerie. Phasma feels the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, but she doesn’t think anything of it, distracted by lust and the pleasant fuzziness from all the alcohol she’d already had.

“And I suppose you’ll only grope me if I ask nicely?” the girl asks, sitting down on the stool next to Phasma.

“Ah, see? We already understand each other very well.”

The girl laughs. Her laugh is like a babbling brook, bright and melodious.

“I might ask you that later — but first, I’d like a name.”

Phasma isn’t keen on giving her actual name to one-night-stands.

“You may call me Captain,” she says, taking a sip of her drink.

“And are you a captain?” the girl asks with an amused glint in her eye, shifting on her chair.

It is in that moment her drink arrives. Before the girl can react, Phasma pulls out a crisp bill from her pocket and pays for the drink. She never breaks eye contact.

“I am.”

The girl takes a sip of her drink — some sort of sugary concoction that’s probably stronger than it looks. She nibbles on the pink, neon straw. “I could believe that.”

“And what should I call you?” Phasma asks.

The girl grins mischievously, straw in her mouth. “You could call me Lucy, but you could also call me something else, if you prefer.”

“Lucy is a lovely name.”

There is no way in hell her name is Lucy — but then again, Phasma’s name isn’t exactly Captain, either. She can understand the desire to keep one’s identity private, and she can appreciate a girl with a brain — even if the dumb ones are way easier to bed.

This one will probably be way more fun, though.

“So, Captain,” she purrs, raising her hand to caress Phasma’s bicep. “Wanna continue this pleasant conversation somewhere more private?”

Phasma is a bit taken aback by how eager the girl seems to be all of a sudden, especially since she seemed so disinterested in physical contact on the dance floor. Usually it takes a bit more flirting, and usually Phasma is the one to suggest going somewhere quieter — no girl wants to seem easy, after all.

Phasma doesn’t need to be asked twice, though.

She towers over Lucy as they walk through the crowd, enjoying how much smaller the girl is compared to her. She puts her hand on the small of her back — her skin is smooth like marble, but way hotter.

As soon as they exit the bar and step onto the dark alleyway, Phasma pins her against the wall and kisses her. Lucy nips on her lip with her sharp teeth and draws blood. Phasma enjoys it.

Easy prey, she thinks as they head towards Lucy’s residence.

It never crosses her mind that Lucy might be thinking the same thing.

Something about Lucy isn’t quite right — and Phasma, unfortunately, only becomes aware of that once they’re making out on Lucy’s couch.

Phasma is straddling her, pinning her wrists down with one hand, and the other one she runs over her throat before lightly squeezing. Lucy whimpers.

“Like being choked like a filthy slut, hm?” Phasma asks. Lucy shakes her head. “No? You’re out of luck then, pretty girl, because I enjoy that very much.”

She squeezes again — not too hard, but enough to let her know who’s in charge. She feels herself getting wet at the sight of Lucy squirming underneath her. The straps of her skimpy dress slid down and one of her nipples is exposed — it’s dark and pretty and perfect. Phasma can’t wait to put it in her mouth. Oh, she’ll love fucking this pretty thing.

Lucy is noticeably smaller than her, and a head shorter — she shouldn’t be able to throw Phasma off of her like she weighs nothing — nor climb on top of her and pin her down so she can’t move an inch — and not for the lack of trying.

And yet.

“Had enough of your little power trip?” Lucy says, smiling, and her teeth somehow seem sharper than before. Her blue eyes are glowing. She gives Phasma a look that makes all the hairs on her body stand up — predatory, lecherous, hungry.

She holds Phasma’s wrists down in the same fashion Phasma held hers moments ago, her long hair tickling Phasma’s neck. Phasma tries to throw her off of herself, but finds that she can’t — Lucy’s grip is iron. She keeps squirming, but Lucy doesn’t even break a sweat as she holds her down.

“You can’t escape, handsome thing,” Lucy purrs. Phasma stares at the glitter on her lips — remnants of her now smudged lipgloss.

“Fuck,” she says, giving up on trying to escape Lucy’s grip. There isn’t much else to say.

“Yes, that’s what I’m about to do,” Lucy chuckles, then surges forward and pushes her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. Phasma makes a guttural noise as Lucy kisses her and assaults her mouth with her tongue — a tongue that, now that Phasma thinks about it, feels a bit too smooth, and is perhaps just a bit too long. The girl isn’t human, that much is clear, but Phasma has no idea what she is.

“Like being choked, Captain?” Lucy purrs, breaking the kiss, her breath hot in Phasma’s mouth.

Before Phasma can react in any way there is a tentacle wrapped around her neck.

For a couple of seconds, Phasma can’t breathe. The tentacle feels smooth and slimy and slick, with little suction cups latching onto the skin of her neck hard enough to bruise. Her eyes widen in horror when she sees more of them appear above her. They seem to be sprouting from Lucy’s back, eight of them — thick, dark blue and glistening, with pink, fleshy suction cups.

Lucy releases the hold on Phasma’s neck, and Phasma gasps for air. The suckers painfully tug on her skin as Lucy removes the tentacle. It feels like getting a dozen hickeys all at once. Phasma hisses in pain.

“I love dominant women,” Lucy whispers in Phasma’s ear. “I love how helpless they look as I fuck them, and I love it even more when they realise they fucking love it.”

She licks Phasma’s neck, cleans up the slick left on it from the tentacle. Phasma actually enjoys the sensation, and would perhaps enjoy it even more if she wasn’t distracted by the fleshy blue and pink tentacles wiggling around her. She stares at them, wrists pinned down, frozen, as Lucy kisses her neck.

“Like them?” Lucy asks. Phasma can feel her grin into her neck.

They are horrifying, gross and slimy, but there is something mesmerising about the way they move — and they are attached to the most beautiful creature Phasma’s ever seen — that certainly makes a difference.

“Feel them,” Lucy purrs and pulls on Phasma’s wrists, bringing them behind her back. Phasma tries pulling back, but Lucy’s grip on her wrists is too strong. She guides Phasma’s hands to slide along the tentacles. Phasma’s entire body tenses up. “Mmm, that feels really good, you know,” Lucy murmurs into her ear, licking and placing lazy kisses onto it.

The slick tentacles and the sticky, bulbous suckers are unlike anything she’s ever touched. They feel weird, but not unpleasant — and mixed with Lucy’s hot kisses on her ear and her soft body pressed against Phasma’s, it’s… it’s…

Phasma settles on confusing.

“You must have thought I’d be such easy prey,” Lucy whispers as she grinds her hips into Phasma’s and slams her arms back onto the couch. “Pretty girl you could throw around a bit, get some frustration out on, hm? Have a quick, dirty orgasm while you choke me. And if you accidentally squeezed too hard, who’d know?”

“I wouldn’t kill you,” Phasma says, trying to keep her voice level, not wanting it to show how much she’s affected by Lucy grinding on her, the feeling of Lucy’s tits against her own, Lucy’s tongue on her ear. It’s not exactly a lie — she wouldn't kill her on purpose. If it happened accidentally, however…

Well — she wouldn’t dwell on the life of a pretty whore from a bar.

“How generous. Perhaps I won’t kill you either, then. It would ruin the mood just a little bit.” She takes Phasma’s lower lip between her teeth and bites on it, drawing blood. Phasma sucks in a sharp breath. “I’d much prefer to fuck and humiliate you. It’ll be super hot. I promise you’ll love it.”

Phasma feels both relieved that she probably won’t get killed tonight and completely horrified at the prospect of what this girl — this creature — might do to her instead. She wistfully thinks of her blaster, left by the door as they entered the apartment. Oh, what a fool she was to think she wouldn’t need it in a makeout session with a pretty alien.

Lucy seems to notice the dread in Phasma’s eyes, because she laughs, showing all of her sharp teeth. Her laugh is lovely sound — one that Phasma still finds charming. She wonders if the girl is some sort of siren-like creature.

Lucy caresses Phasma’s cheek — not with her hand, as she is still pinning Phasma’s wrists down — but with one of her tentacles. Phasma shivers at the feeling of the slimy, slick limb on her face leaving a wet trail of sludge.

“Afraid, hm?”

“No,” Phasma spits out. She’d rather die than admit to fear.

Lucy chuckles. “I can tell you’re a crazy bitch. And you know what?” She leans in closer. “It takes one to know one,” she whispers, and then laughs — it send chills down Phasma’s spine.

“I’d say you happened to meet your match, but I could eat you for breakfast without even blinking. Now, my advice for you would be to try to relax and enjoy yourself. It hurts more if you’re all tight,” she purrs and crashes her lips into Phasma’s again, forcing her tongue into Phasma’s mouth. It’s definitely too long for a human tongue, and she sticks it so far down Phasma’s throat that she gags.

“Aww, not a good gag reflex?” Lucy coos, breaking the kiss. “Poor thing. Let me give you a little treat as a reward.”

She sits up on Phasma’s lap, and before Phasma can use the fact that her wrists aren’t being held down anymore, Lucy replaces her hands with tentacles. Two wrap around her wrists, and two slide under her shirt, groping her tits over her sports-bra, wetting the fabric and leaving a disgusting trail of sludge on it. The suckers latch onto her skin — it feels bizarre — but she doesn’t dwell on the sensation too long. Her attention is taken by Lucy making a show of removing her dress, slowly sliding the straps down her shoulders. One of her nipples is already out from all the grinding and wrestling on the couch, but the other she reveals slowly — painfully slowly — letting the silky fabric slide down her perfect, round tit. Phasma watches her, mesmerised. Lucy is the prettiest thing she’s ever seen.

Lucy maintains eye contact with her as she undresses, ultramarine eyes sparkling in the dark apartment, plump lips curled into a wicked smirk. There’s glitter on her face from all the smudged makeup, and her long, wavy hair falls onto her shoulders in beautiful, fluffy tresses. Her dress now pools around her soft belly, and rides up her thighs. She isn’t wearing anything underneath, and Phasma can catch a glimpse of dark hair between her legs. She can feel the heat radiating from there against her own pelvis.

Lucy lazily starts rolling her hips into Phasma’s. Phasma’s eyes wonder up towards Lucy’s exposed tits that are lightly bouncing up and down as she grinds against her — perfect, round, soft tits, with small, dark nipples that she wants — needs — to have in her mouth. She watches, spellbound, mouth agape.

There is, however, a disturbing addition to the otherwise very arousing visual — the tentacles — slick, thick, deep blue and soft pink limbs that sprout from Lucy’s back and sides, four of them floating around her, and four pinning Phasma down and groping her over her bra. Phasma is only able to feel so much over the thick fabric strapping her tits down tight, but it still feels surprisingly good — better than Phasma would like to admit. And as she watches the alien goddess grind her hips on top of her, slimy tentacles surrounding her like a halo, tits bouncing, plump lips parted and smirking, she can’t deny it.

It turns her on.

She feels the wetness pool between her own thighs, and she's frustrated that she can’t do anything about it. She isn’t used to being helpless — or pinned down. She squirms underneath Lucy, unsure of what she’s really trying to do — escape, get some friction between her legs, or gain some semblance of control.

“Poor baby,” Lucy says, smiling wickedly. “Craving some attention, hm?”

Phasma is pissed. Nobody dares talk down at her like that — and if they do, she makes sure they never talk again. She squirms some more, exasperated, trying to sit up, and she almost manages — but then the tentacles slam her down into the couch, and she realises she was only able to get up even a little because Lucy let her. She’s fuming — Lucy is toying with her like a cat with its prey. Phasma tries kicking her legs, but that does precisely nothing.

“Fuck,” she grunts in frustration, and Lucy laughs. That bitch is laughing at her. Phasma thinks about blowing her head up with her blaster, and then each of the tentacles. She imagines how they’d twitch and fall down, limp and lifeless.

“You’re so cute when you can’t get what you want,” Lucy chuckles, then rips her dress from her torso in one swift move, throwing it on the floor. Phasma is so mad she doesn’t even register the fact that Lucy is now naked on top of her. She’s seething with rage, her vision blurring.

“You fucking bitch,” Phasma says through her teeth, “I’ll fucking kill you—”

“Ah-ah,” Lucy interrupts her. “You might wanna keep your pretty mouth shut, Captain. I’m the one who could kill you, after all.”

Phasma cries out in frustration, but then there’s a slimy, thick tentacle in her mouth. She almost gags on it. She tries to scream, but the only thing coming out of her mouth are muffled groans. She throws her head left and right, trying to get the thing out of her mouth, but there’s no way she can manage that. Tears fill her eyes. The sensation of sludgy, sticky suckers latching onto her tongue disgusts her. She tries screaming and squirming some more, but to no avail. Finally, she stills, realising her defeat. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to gag.

“All done with your little tantrum?”

Phasma just stares at those stunning, glowing, blue orbs mocking her, her chest heaving and her eyes wide.

“Good. Now, stay still while I undress you,” she says, as if Phasma could do anything other than obey.

Phasma stays as still as she can, but she’s shaking, unable to help herself. She feels her cheeks burn with shame and disgust for her own helplessness.

Lucy undresses her almost gently — using her hands, thankfully. First she removes Phasma’s boots, then she undoes her belt.

“Lift,” she says, and Phasma lifts her hips. Lucy pulls down her pants, then her underwear. Phasma trembles the entire time.

“Awww, don’t be scared, pretty captain.” She kisses Phasma’s knees, then up her thighs, strokes her legs and hips almost reassuringly. “You’re gonna get fucked so well — you’ll love it.”

Phasma just stares at her, hyperaware of the slimy tentacle in her mouth. Dread weighs down her stomach. She’s unable to do or say anything.

“I’ll free your mouth to remove your shirt now, hm? And if you’re good and stay quiet I won’t gag you again. Nod if you understand.”

Phasma nods. She tries not to think about the tentacle shifting in her mouth as she does so.

“Good girl,” Lucy says, and Phasma somehow manages to refrain from recoiling at the phrase.

The suckers tug painfully onto her tongue, releasing with little pops as Lucy pulls out the tentacle. Phasma lets out a throaty whimper and furrows her brows in pain. Once the limb is out of her mouth, she moves her jaw and winces at the sludge it left behind — not enough to spit out, but enough to be gross. She swallows bits of it. It’s salty.

“Like that, hm?” Lucy taunts her as she hooks her fingers under Phasma’s shirt. “Up.”

Phasma sits up and Lucy pulls the shirt over her head. “Stay.” She removes Phasma’s bra.

Phasma is fuming with rage at being talked to like a dog, but she says nothing — just closes her eyes and inhales deeply, trying to calm down. She is completely naked now. She can’t remember the last time she felt so exposed, so vulnerable.

“Open your eyes, Captain. Look at me.”

Phasma does as she’s told. She gives Lucy a look full of hate.

“So easily provoked,” Lucy chuckles. “Come ‘ere.”

She kisses Phasma — surprisingly gently. She nibbles on her lip, caresses her neck and runs her fingers over the short hair at the back of Phasma’s head. She presses herself flush against Phasma and wraps her legs around Phasma’s hips. Her breasts feel soft against’s Phasma’s own as she slowly grinds against her.

They make out for a while, and it almost feels normal, as if they’re just two naked women kissing instead of an alien and a war criminal playing a sick power game — with one side most definitely winning.

After a couple of minutes, Phasma slowly starts to relax into Lucy’s touch. She can’t resist her soft curves — she runs her hands over her breasts, grabs her hips — firmly, but not too hard, aware she’s not the one in control here. She’s very careful not to touch the tentacles.

Lucy, however, doesn’t hold back from exploring Phasma’s body — and Phasma must admit it feels nice. She usually isn’t very keen on letting people pleasure her, as it requires giving up too much control — but since any semblance of control she may have felt in this situation is long gone, she finds that she enjoys being touched for once. Lucy drags her fingernails across Phasma’s back, fondles and squeezes her tits, her hips, her legs, her ass, runs her hands over Phasma’s muscular arms and taut stomach. She seems to really like Phasma’s muscles, and Phasma can’t help but feel just a little bit smug about that.

Lucy quickly catches onto the fact that Phasma enjoys a bit of pain — she tortures and teases her by digging her nails into Phasma’s skin, biting her neck and her tits, leaving painful hickeys, slapping her face, tits and ass. Phasma feels herself go red with humiliation when Lucy spanks her really hard as she's kissing her, making her let out an embarrassing, needy whimper into her mouth.

“You’re just a needy whore, aren’t you? You just need someone to spank and fuck you properly,” Lucy murmurs and Phasma’s hand flies towards Lucy’s neck on instinct, anger and humiliation filling her, but Lucy just laughs and catches her wrist, bringing it down. “You could use those in a more productive way,” she says, smirking, and guides Phasma’s hands towards her tentacles, making her caress the place where the sludgy limbs sprout from her skin.

“Mmm, yes, do that,” Lucy purrs.

Phasma hasn’t really got a choice, so she does as she’s told. She massages the tentacles, runs her hands over Lucy’s waist and back, sludge coating her fingers, and Lucy stars producing sinful moans that make Phasma grow instantly wet — not that the previous activities haven’t already riled her up. Much to her horror, she realises she doesn’t find touching the tentacles that gross — not when it makes Lucy moan like that.

Lucy grinds her hips into Phasma’s, her movements growing more urgent and desperate by the second, and Phasma does the same. They dryhump on the couch, both moaning and grunting and groping each other, not concerned with being gentle.

Phasma craves Lucy’s pretty tits in her mouth, and she decides to grant herself that wish — Lucy lets her. Phasma sucks and bites on her nipples, moans at the feeling of the soft, heavy tit in her mouth. However, when she tries sliding her hand between Lucy’s thighs, Lucy slaps it away.

“I think we’ve had enough foreplay,” she says and roughly pushes Phasma down onto the couch.

Phasma is almost okay with Lucy fucking her at this point — she’s wet and turned on and Lucy is so attractive Phasma could forgive her most things. She even feels herself growing excited by the idea of Lucy’s fingers inside of her.

However, when instead of Lucy’s hands she feels Lucy’s tentacles on her body — wrapping around her arms and torso, spreading her legs apart, grabbing her tits, squeezing and latching onto her skin — a horrifying realisation hits her.

Lucy won’t use her hands to fuck her.

Lucy is sitting on the couch, back prettily arched, hand between her legs. She’s a beautiful and terrifying vision — the most alluring monster. Her smooth, dark skin glistens with sludge and sweat, her lips are parted, and her face and neck are full of makeup glitter. Her piercing blue eyes glow in the dark, and her round tits and soft belly look enticing enough to bite. Blue and pink tentacles wiggle around her — horrid, thick, disgusting, sludgy limbs.

The tentacles wrap around Phasma’s tits and squeeze — Phasma suppresses a moan . They caress her torso, her neck, latch onto her skin, give her painful hickeys. They keep her legs spread and hold her arms firmly in place. One of the tentacles slowly makes its way up Phasma’s legs.

The tentacle touches the inside of her thigh. Phasma would recoil if she could move — instead, her stomach muscles spasm. “No,” she says, as the tentacle slides up her thigh. “No, no, no—”

The tentacle touches her vulva. Sticky suckers latch onto Phasma’s skin, onto her clit, and she cries out in pleasure, pain and horror. “Fuck,” she cries through gritted teeth.

“Feels good, hm?” Lucy asks, voice breathy and gaze hooded as she touches herself. “My handsome captain. I’m gonna fuck you so well.”

She slides the tentacle down towards Phasma’s entrance. Phasma wonders if that thing can even fit inside of her. She squeezes her eyes shut and braces herself for the pain of being stretched out — but the tentacle slides further down, over her pussy lips and towards her ass — and then she feels it probe around a much tighter hole.

“No,” Phasma says, squirming as the tentacle pushes against her muscles. “No, stop — stop! Stop!”

She knows there’s no stopping what’s about to happen, but she fights it anyway, squirming and screaming. She tenses up when she feels the tip of the tentacle push inside of her. The thing is sludgy and slick enough that it doesn’t burn and sting too badly — but it still hurts.

“My advice would be to relax, Captain. It’ll hurt much more if you’re tense,” Lucy says, voice thick and breathy, as she rubs her own clit. “Fuck, you look so pretty like this.”

Phasma hates to admit she’s right — the smartest thing would be to relax as much as she can, if she doesn’t want it to hurt much more than it needs to. Taking a deep breath, she does her best to unclench her muscles. She feels the tentacle slide a bit further in and she grimaces, but doesn’t tense up again, instead letting it slowly fill her. It stings, and it feels wrong — but then the tentacle touches a good spot and she moans. It starts slowly sliding in and out of her. She’s breathing heavily, trying not to make any more embarrassing sounds — but then it suddenly picks up the pace and starts pounding into her, and she cries out in pleasure and pain.

Before she can get used to the feeling of being fucked, another tentacle slides into her pussy without warning, filling her and painfully stretching her. “Fuck!” she cries.

She’s being fucked in both holes — it hurts and it burns, and she can feel the two tentacles touch over her inner walls. The slimy suckers provide a different sensation than the smooth, slick part of the tentacle, and Phasma hates how good the different texture feels. One of the suckers latches onto her clit, and then Phasma can’t hold back her moans anymore. With each thrust she lets out a puff of air and a whine. Her cheeks and chest burn in shame — but then Lucy fucks her harder and the suckers latch onto her nipples, and she forgets all about shame. Delicious pleasure overwhelms her.

Lucy continues to touch herself as she watches her. The air is filled with moans and cries and wet noise of tentacles pounding into Phasma, as well as the slick sound of Lucy rubbing her own pussy.

“Does it feel good, hm?” Lucy asks, her voice breathy. “Tell me.”

Phasma doesn’t have it in her to form a coherent sentence — she just whines as the both tentacles keep hitting the right spots. That, combined with the sucking on her clit and nipples, makes her unable to think about anything else except the orgasm that is starting to build deep inside her belly. She’s never experienced anything quite like this. Tears are streaming down her face and she’s producing sounds she never thought she was capable of making. Her entire body tingles with pleasure.

Then, Lucy stops.

Phasma is breathing heavily, frustrated by not getting enough stimulation to keep the delicious pleasure building. She still, however, considers herself above begging. She avoids looking Lucy in the eyes, her shame too deep — but Lucy will have none of that. A tentacle grabs Phasma’s chin and forces her head towards Lucy. Phasma closes her eyes.

“Look at me.”

Phasma slowly opens her eyes and meets Lucy’s bright blue ones that are shining with lust. She looks absolutely beautiful, and somehow ethereal — she’s almost glowing in the dark room.

“Wanna come?” she asks her. Phasma is silent. “Tell me, slut.”

Phasma makes a quick and practical decision in about a couple of seconds — she figures that since she’s already completely and utterly humiliated, she could at least get an orgasm out of it.

It still isn’t easy to say it.

“Yes,” she manages to utter. She doesn’t recognise her own desperate and raspy voice.

“Then beg.”

They stare each other down for a moment. Phasma knows she’s lost — she disregards the last bits of dignity left in her and begs.

“Please,” she breathes out, barely audible.

“Louder.”

Phasma averts her gaze. “Ah-ah, look at me.”

Phasma obeys and begs again, this time louder. “Please.”

“Say, I need you to fuck me like a filthy slut.”

Phasma takes in a shaky breath. She struggles to maintain eye contact, but forces herself to do it nonetheless. “I—I need you to… fuck me…. like a filthy slut,” she utters, her voice breaking. Her cheeks burn and her stomach twists with humiliation.

Phasma will never admit it to anyone — you could hold her at gunpoint and she’d deny it — but there’s something erotic about giving up control — about letting yourself be somebody you aren’t, somebody who begs to be treated like a filthy slut. She’s never been fucked like this before, and she didn’t think she’d enjoy it — she’s never craved it, never fantasised about anything of the sort.

And yet.

Lucy grins, and it’s downright evil. “Well — since you’re begging, Captain.”

Without further warning, Lucy starts fucking her harder than before. Tentacles slide in and out of her, suckers latch onto her body, her clit, her nipples. She whines and moans, unable to help herself, but then a tentacle is forced into her mouth again and it muffles her desperate sounds. Phasma is almost grateful for it — she can’t bear listening to her own embarrassing cries.

Lucy rubs her own clit, brows furrowed in pleasure, beads of sweat dripping down her face and chest. She lets out quiet little huffs as she works herself towards her own release. Phasma watches her, and feels an orgasm build in her belly again, deep and potent. She gags on the tentacle, completely helpless as it fucks her mouth relentlessly. She feels the burning sting of her holes being stretched, revels in the delicious pleasure of her clit and nipples being sucked. She can’t move, she can’t scream — she can only watch Lucy cry out and come around her own fingers, before she herself tips over the edge of ecstasy.

The orgasm washes over her like a wave. She would scream if she could, but instead she just grunts and convulses, her eyes rolling back in her head. She shakes and trembles, and Lucy doesn’t stop — instead she fucks her into another orgasm.

Phasma is vaguely aware of a sticky tentacle wrapping around her neck and squeezing — she can’t breathe for a couple of seconds, and then she can again — and then she comes even harder than before. Somewhere around her third orgasm Lucy squeezes onto her neck a bit too hard and too long, and Phasma loses consciousness.

When she comes to, she doesn’t know where she is. She’s in pain, her head is throbbing, and she feels nauseous.

She lies on the floor for a while, fighting the urge to throw up. She rolls onto her side, pressing her aching body against the hard concrete and hissing in pain. She blinks furiously, trying to stay conscious and clear her vision.

A neon sign catches her attention, and she blinks some more to try and read it. She quickly realises it’s the sign in front of the bar in which all of this started. It’s not the dead of the night anymore, however — dawn is breaking.

She somehow manages to lift herself from the floor and not throw up. Her head is pounding, every muscle in her body hurts, and she can barely walk. She’s sore from the fucking. She’s relieved to see she’s in the clothes she came here in, even if they’re wrinkled and dirty and have dried tentacle slime on it.

And she’s, of course, also relieved that she’s still alive — she figured the girl wouldn't kill her, but she couldn't tell for sure. What a stupid way to go it would have been.

She looks at her wrists. They have disturbing looking hickeys on them — rows of purple dots in the shape of tentacle suckers — she figures the rest of her body probably looks similar. There’s also makeup glitter on her hands. She shudders.

Somehow she manages to get back to the ship. Nobody dares ask questions.

She spends the entirety of that day in a hot bath, fuming with rage, grunting in pain, trying to fully remove makeup glitter from her skin with little success, and thinking about the best orgasms of her life.

A year later, she’s on the same planet again — and yet again, she has some free time before a mission. Before she can overthink it, she finds herself in the same bar.

She doesn’t know why she does it. There’s no way that thing will be here again.

When she catches Lucy’s gaze in the crowd, her belly tingles with excitement.

“Missed me, Captain?” she purrs as they dance, bodies pressed flush against each other.

Phasma grabs her face and kisses her.

She comes several times that night. When she wakes up unconscious in the alleyway again, she swears not to do this ever again.

And she doesn’t.

...

Not until the next time she comes to town.

big thanks to lovely @opheliauniverse for editing <3

taglist (let me know if you want to be added or removed!): @dumbasslesbi @bychrissi @scream-queenlover @muffintopxs @bigolgay @gwenslucifer @weemswife @yourhauntedhead @carnivorousflowers @i-have-insane-that-i-am-paper @softshrimpy @willowshadenox @syrenacrainn @weemssapphic @dianneking @imprincipalweemspet @kimiinou @ninelesbien @i-love-nerdy-stuff @eveymay @myzzjolanda @pluied-ete @brienneswife @gwenzone @principal-weems09 @inlovewithalcinadimitrescu @gela123 @emilynissangtr @gwendolinechristieiscute @h-doodles @winterfireblond @alexusonfire @larissaoftarthweems @a-queen-and-her-throne @bikergurl5 @salems-spaghettios @theflashesoflove @catechristiesstuff @vendocrap8008 @billiedeansbitch @coffeemelko @lilfartbox1 @amateurwritescm @daydream-cement @kaymariesworld @sicklygrlsicklygrl @wh0re4women @rippersz

#kink!week #7 days of kink #captain phasma #captain phasma x original female character #gwendoline christie #i will produce my own garbage and also consume it #star wars sequel trilogy

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samssims · 4 months

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Hi Sam! I was wondering if I could ask for some advice on how to make simblr fun again? I love storytelling (it's how I have fun with the game) but lately with writing posts and even in game, I just find myself stressing over if it's good/interesting enough or if I took good screenshots, if my writing is good, etc. I love this game and sharing my stories with this community, so it sucks to feel like this. Thank you sm ♥

Oh Nonny, how I feel this pain. I wish I had a sure fire answer to this but sadly there isn't just one thing that will work.

I will put some advice below for some things that have worked for me in my experience if you're interested in trying them out to try to find that spark again!

Now I have been on tumblr sharing my sims since 2013 so I have seen the community change a lot. Things change, people come and go, it's just the natural way of things. So a lot of the time your community can change around you and so a few years ago sims storytelling was really popular and it was the thing everyone was doing. And I mean everyone.

But now things have sort of fallen off or shifted and there is no shame in that for those who moved onto other things and hobbies. Sims storytelling, at it's core, is a hobby. No one is making money off of it (unless you write it all down and get it published in which case, hell yeah go you!)

That being said, finding your spark again is going to be finding what YOU like about storytelling in the sims.

So here are some tips you can try out in the game to keep it fresh and exciting:

Play the Game

The game has changed a lot and added a lot. It came out in 2014. It's about to be 10 years old. With expansions still being added. Honestly having a family where you can just play through what the game offers you can offer inspiration on how to use in game things for story related things later on.

I have found having a lowkey gameplay (for yourself or even for your blog if you are posting) is an easy way to stay active in the community while keeping things low stakes and casual for yourself while you work on finding your spark again.

Change Up your Post Style

Idk about you Nonny, but nothing gets me less motivated than having to edit photos. If I could just point, shoot, and post, I would have content coming out my ears. Which is what I started doing with my Princess Legacy. All I do is crop it. I add some things here and there but really it's all pretty much easy.

Now I have done it all.

Prose on photos.

Prose under photos:

Icons Only:

Gameplay Only:

And finally just cropped:

Now what is the best? That is personal preference especially for the project you are doing. However I have definitely discovered the crop method to be SUPER helpful.

It makes me not have to worry about the whole photo. Sometimes I have this SUPER awesome detail in the back of a photo but when I crop them I lose all that. Which is not good for storytelling lets be honest but does force me to focus on what is actually important in the shot.

Example: Here is the full cottage photo from above You can see that I cropped out a lot of the cottage in favor of being able to see the deer and swans as i thought that was more a cozy fairytale vibe than just the cottage itself. I lost a lot of this detail yet the point still came across.

TBH the paired crop photos also makes me cut out a lot of access photos if they don't have a pair. It's sort of made me realize how much I don't need to take screenshots of. Though I am definitely an overtaker of photos so I always have plenty to choose from. Sometimes I even queue them then look back and realize they aren't needed and delete. It's humbled me a bit.

I could break down every one of these posting styles but that's a whole other thing you didn't ask about.

TLDR of this section is to experiment with how you post. You can have a lot of fun with that.

If Something is Boring, Skip it.

Do you hate the infant stage? Age them past it. Do you hate the winter months in game? Set seasons to never have winter. Do you hate in game holidays ruining your plans? Delete them all from your calendar. Is it a crucial part to your story? Not anymore. Write around it. Or find some creative angles and dialogue to write over it.

Make the game fit you!

Follow the Inspo

Have inspiration to make a new sim in CAS? Do it! Want to make a whole new save? Have an idea for one scene that could start a whole story but you have nothing else for it? DO IT!!!

The game is supposed to be fun. If you have inspiration for a project, live in it. Have fun with it.

But Sam, what if only lasts 2 weeks and I never touch it again?

Me too, babes. Happens to me all the time. Own it. Keep it around in case you want to mess with it later. Have 10 million saves. It's your life and if it brings you a moment of joy to work on it, then it totally is worth it.

If you want to be like me: Be chaotic and post it too. Then private the posts later when you decide to never touch it again. Never delete tho. I always tend to regret deleted things.

Find Your Community

You should ultimately write and create for yourself, but find others who are doing it too! Lift them up as well! Use one day a week on your blog to give reblogs or shoutouts to your fellow creators and writers! It's all about lifting each other up and making friends who all have the same hobby as us.

Try New Challenges

A lot of my sims storytelling started from inspiration around legacy challenges. I loved to take challenge rules and figure out how to make a story around them. But remember: Rules are made to be broken. Especially in favor of a good story.

If you are working on a current challenge/story, find another to merge with it or to give yourself a heck of a fun plot twist. There are no rules!

Have Fun!

This is sort of the whole crux of it, right? And if you're not having fun then...

Take a Break

You are not beholden to your queue! Let it die out! Disappear for 6 months. Return when you want. Go play Animal Crossing or BG3 or whatever it is at the moment. Sims is a hobby. But it does not have to be your ONLY hobby. Let your brain rest.

In my case, whenever I leave the sims I am always filled with ideas and ready to come back in like 3 days.

This could also mean take a break from your save too. Maybe spend some time in CAS. Or in build mode. Or cleaning out your mods. You can still do sims things while letting your story brain rest.

TLDR:

There is no right answer for this, Nonny. I promise your photos are all gorgeous and your story is wonderful! But creativity like anything ebbs and flows so give yourself that grace to let yourself rest and just enjoy the game again, or enjoy time away from it! You deserve it you superstar creator!

#Sam Speaks #nonsims #looooong post #so sorry I got carried away #had to wait to get to my laptop to answer this one #which is why it took me a minute #hope you find your spark nonny!

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alexinchainsfest · 2 months

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Well, that was fun! At least it was for me, I hope you guys enjoyed it too, biggest thanks to everyone who participated ♥

13 works were added to the collection over the month, so here is a recap!

Sweet Amnesia by Myulalie for @rirren [E, 4 374 words]

Ian disappears, and Alex gets into his head to hire “Ian’s old army buddy” to rescue his uncle. Yassen Gregorovich comes with a price.

Adjournment by iceblyecyanide for @strangesoulmates [T, 5 399 words]

“Did no one ever tell you that it’s impolite to enter someone’s room without invitation, Alex Rider?” Chess prodigy Alex Rider is attending the 1981 Moscow Invitational when a moment of curiosity leads him into trouble, and lands him an impromptu rematch with the World Champion, Soviet Grandmaster Yassen Gregorovich.

The Boy in the Ice by Myulalie for @lastlymatt [T, 3 932 words]

Project IceX takes Yassen to a lab in Siberia in order to relive a miraculously preserved humanoid, seemingly older than humanity itself.

I don't want to lose you again by turtle_snail for @shehungthemoon [T, 7 461 words]

Alex gets a phone call from the hospital saying that his uncle was in a bad accident. Except, Ian Rider died four years ago…

A Surprising Holiday by TheOtherBlue for @myulalie [E, 3 487 words]

Alex runs into Yassen while on holiday in Greece and sees a chance to flip the script of their encounters. Yassen isn't entirely convinced, but is willing to play along.

The Monster in the Cellar by Too_Many_Rooks for @icebluecyanide [Not Rated, 5 104 words]

'Perhaps he’d lied to himself as much as he’d lied to MI6. Every report they’d demanded had read the same; his nephew was normal, and safe, and happy, and they couldn’t have him. Ian was his parent in every way that mattered, not a prison warden for the thing that might lurk inside him. No one would take his kid away from him. But the snarling, blood-stained, monster, barely conscious with all his hate and his hunger that was chained up in their basement didn’t much resemble the sweet little boy who’d run to greet him at the door when he returned from long overseas missions, or the child who’d stare with wide-eyed joy and fascination as Ian showed him the world, nor even the stroppy tween who liked to complain about how boring and embarrassing his guardian was.' Ian is forced to enact a plan he'd been desperate to avoid when he returns home one day to find his nephew... changed.

Lot 14 by Rirren for @lastlymatt [E, 2 509 words]

Blind and deaf, Alex Rider is helpless as he is auctioned off.

Pinewood by turtle_snail [T, 5 166 words]

Alex and Freddy are captured by nightshade, the situation is starting to seem dire and maybe Alex can’t sass his way out of this one.

A different kind of sacrifice by limnal for @strangesoulmates [E, 4 346 words]

Alex, a young Celt, has been chosen to be handfasted with Yassen, a druid known for his love of blood magic and human sacrifice. There are expectations to fulfill this night.

A Winter Offering by LastlyMatt for @myulalie [E, 4 561 words]

In order for the village to make it through winter, Alex has been chosen as a sacrifice for the spirit of the woods.

Salt Water by Myulalie for @shehungthemoon [E, 4 618 words]

Five times Alex forces Yassen’s hand (and gets away with it).

Disciplinary Action by icebluecyanide for @lastlymatt [M, 4 475 words]

General Alexei Sarov makes good on his promise to have Alex whipped. "There will be no more outbursts," Sarov told him, his tone brooking no disobedience. "You will be quiet, and you will watch. And when Juan's punishment is over, you will take his place." Written for FebuWhump Day 24: "I'm doing this because I care about you" and the Alex in Chains prompt "Alex tied up in front of an audience".

The Mystery Suitor by turtle_snail for @myulalie [M, 8 311 words]

“I’ll think this is an amazing deal. It will bring prosperity to both our kingdoms. I think Prince Alex can agree.” He heard Ian say. Alex's curiosity doubled. He caught his name being included in some deal Ian was making on his behalf. “What was that about?” Alex demanded, not hiding the fact that he was eavesdropping seconds before. “You have a suitor.” Ian said, "I just got a marriage proposal.”

What a way to start the year! Thank you to all the participants, once again, and happy reading to anyone catching up now ♥

Feel free to keep browsing through the wishlists and gift something to someone even if the event is over, I'll be happy to reblog it here if you do!

#alex rider #fanfiction #ao3 #alexinchains #fandom event #anthony horowitz #yassen gregorovich #tom harris #ian rider #alexei sarov #frederick grey

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fushiglow · 4 months

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Over the Threshold | Chapter 6

‘You really want to kiss me that badly?’ The singer actually nodded, and Suguru’s ego swelled dangerously. Satoru’s unabashed want for him was thrilling and intoxicating — and a bit pathetic, too. Kneeling before him, the singer was no longer a disciple but a devoted follower, worshipping at the altar of Suguru’s feet. It made for a welcome change of pace, their positions reversed as Suguru looked down on Satoru for once. It made heat curl in his gut; made him want to be a little mean. ‘Don’t you have any shame, Satoru?’ he purred, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward to study the singer. ‘Aren’t you embarrassed?’ Satoru didn’t even hesitate. ‘Nope!’ The producer huffed out a humourless laugh. He had to admire the idiot’s audacity at the end of the day. Still, Suguru could play little games, too. He fixed Satoru with his cruelest smile and said, ‘If I let you kiss me just this once, will you shut the fuck up so we can actually get some work done?’

Satoru pushes Suguru a little too far, and he decides it's time to take his revenge — read on AO3 ♥

(I forgot to share the new chapter in all my excitement. You guys loved the WIP I posted, so I hope you love the full thing as much as I do. This one is a *lot* of fun!)

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inhibited-irregularity · 1 year

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Since the voting was truly abysmal and the real winner was robbed by the corrupt juries, might as well make a "they deserved better" list including both semis and the grand finale and considering both juries and the general public. So, in an attempt to be as objective as I can, here's my

☆♥︎THEY DESERVED BETTER♥︎☆

In no particular order:

🇩🇪 Germany, Lord of the lost - Blood and glitter: I admit that I wasn't a fan in the beginning, and even made a post about how I wish that the rock entries went harder and that LOTL should either commit to hardcore or be more silly with the song. I found the cheesy lyrics delivered in such a serious and dramatic manner cringey, BUT, after their performance last night, changed my mind completely. First of all, I ADORE the lead singer's vocals (and he seems like a cool guy), and the song itself has some seriously good moments, not to mention how freakin catchy it is. Their energy was through the roof, the performance was flawless, and in spite of my initial reaction to the song, I bought it and genuinely loved it. It felt like watching a concert by one of my favorite bands. Not my winner, but I was really disappointed with how low they scored.

🇪🇸 Spain, Blanca Paloma - Eaea: ROBBED. Over the years, the juries projected an image of people that look for all things *artistic* in a song (even though it usually translates as a pretentious kid in art college with no real taste picking the thing they think their 50yo profesor would approve of). Well, they be blind, since Blanca Paloma brought IT, and they failed to recognize. Outstanding vocals, stunning visuals, the power of the entire performance, and all the emotion and significance packed into a seemingly simple concept. It was more like a movie scene than a musical competition entry, she transported me into another dimension and unlocked something ancient and wonderful. All the people I've talked to had different favorites, but they all had strong, immensely positive reactions to Spain. I literally teared up and had a spiritual experience with Blanca Paloma's performance, and the energy she exuded was undeniably healing, freeing and over-all cathartic. While I knew that her chances of winning were slim and I didn't count on the public vote, she deserved SO MUCH MORE from both general public and the juries.

🇦🇹 Austria, Teya and Salena - Who the hell is Edgar: One of my favorites from the very beginning. A quality pop song with a bop-y rhythm and ingenious lyrics. Under the guise of random and silly, there's quite a few things implied - the obvious criticism of the music industry and the more subtle "people are readier to believe that a ghost of a famous writer possessed me than that a woman can write quality lyrics and have a sense of humor" (shout-out to generations of men claiming Kurt Cobain wrote Courtney Love's songs and lyrics, work on your reading comprehension) While that might be a personal observation, here's what absolutely stands. They're adorable, funny, had a fun choreography, a catchy song, the lyrics that are fun even if you don't analyze them, great personalities, solid performance, perfect delivery and the right amount of quality with a dash of random that matches Iceland's Dađy Freyr and that y'all claim to respect. Shame on the audience; the jury can't recognize talent anyway.

🇸🇮 Slovenia, Joker out - Carpe Diem: Not much left to say. Good song, good vibes, all the charisma in the world. They had Måneskin's synergy, they had a good time, the audience had a good time with them, and they were confident in a non-pretentious manner. Special mention for Bojan, the lead singer, who's shown such sportsmanship, was truly an example of a perfect esc. representative. The entire band seems very fun to hang out with, and while they're goofy, they seem very smart with how they manage to balance witty and respectful in interviews. Members aside, their music is refreshing and perfect for people that find mainstream pop repetitive but aren't into anything too heavy. Perfect for a summer music festival or a feel-good playlist.

🇵🇹 Portugal, Mimicat - Ai, coração: you know she's something special when her entire home country shows such support and excitement. I wasn't a fan at first when I saw the national performance, it seemed a bit out-dated and frankly a bit too weird for my taste, but she changed my mind as soon as she took the stage in the first semi. In my opinion, a Broadway-worthy performance, and such personality! Fun aunt vibes, and one of the coolest people this year. When I grow up, I wanna be her.

🇭🇷 Croatia, Let 3 - Mama, ŠČ: The juries are such cowards, honestly. I was familiar with some of the band's history and not everything they did was exactly my taste, but what else to expect from a band so unhinged. I had some misgivings, but they won me over quickly. The punkest thing Eurovison has seen in recent years. That's how you do anti-war, Switzerland. Satire on point. Weird, meaningful, fun, grotesque. How something like that didn't do better in Eurovision is beyond me. But leave it to the cowardly juries that left Italy's Ermal Meta and Fabrizio Moro with almost no points to do just that. I'm still butthurt.

🇷🇸 Serbia, Luke Black - Samo mi se spava: Listen, I was NOT a fan. All the homophobes aside, everyone in the country and their mom was gushing about how original and unique the song is, which can be annoying to someone who's as exposed to various aspects of pop culture as I am (humble,I know), and I still think his singing could be better. At first, he was a bit awkward and seemed pretentious during the national selection. However, the performance did stand out, he amped his energy and put such effort, and there's no denying the flawless staging and production and how well it suits him, and over time, he's proved to be a funny, likeable and down to earth guy (with flawless fashion sense). I'm proud of him and how he represented the country, and he definitely didn't deserve to be at the bottom of the list.

🇮🇸 Iceland, Diljá - Power: I'm OUTRAGED that it didn't qualify and can only call lesbophobia idk. I mean, Im not familiar with her sexuality, but if I've ever seen something that doesn't give a damn about the male gaze, this would be it. Still, it's beyond me how she didn't qualify. One of the best vocals this year, not to mention she sung FLAWLESSLY while running and jumping all over the stage with zero breaks. The track itself is meh to me, but should be something that Eurovision fans enjoy; that being said, the vocal and performance can make or break a song with such a track, and she ATE. Power indeed, I was blown away. Her being super-cute is just a bonus. She has my heart and my votes ♡ Too bad people didn't agree.

🇷🇴 Romania, Theodor Andrei - D.G.T: Ok, I can't shout that he deserved to qualify, I knew the chances were slim and the song had some ways to go, not to mention the hot mess of a national performance. However, he doesn't deserve ANY hate that he's getting, and in my opinion, he was the best male vocal this year. I'm in love with his voice and he doesn't lack charisma either. I loved the re-vamp with the acoustic guitar, but at the end of the day, the stage was a bit empty. I will add D. G. T. to my playlist though, and I wish him a wonderful career and a powerful return.

🇱🇻 Latvia, Sudden Lights - Aijā; Well, this one hurts. I know it wasn't a fan favorite, but I was rooting for it so much and still think it deserved to qualify over some *questionable* entries. While it was something straight out of my high-school playlist, I didn't find it derivative and it was warm, touching and comforting. And beautiful, goddammit. I get how it's not everyone's cup of tea, but come on.

🇵🇱 Poland, Jann - Gladiator: Was this a jumpscare? Lol. No need to write a huge paragraph, the entire world knows that he was robbed. I've never seen someone so charismatic and meant to be a performer, and I enjoyed both the song, the lyrics and the delivery, even though I immediately noticed a similarity with Judas by Lady Gaga. However, I feel obliged to say that he should work on his vocals and that y'all wouldn't be so mad if he didn't look the way he looks. Still, the true choice of Poland, and I have no doubt he would've done great in the final.

AND FINALLY .....

THE ONE TRUE WINNER

💚💚💚💚🇫🇮🇫🇮🇫🇮💚💚💚

Käärija (my beloved) - Cha Cha Cha:

Ok, he didn't lack the love or the appreciation. But the RIGGERY. The ROBBERY. THE AUDACITY.

First of all, the song is a banger. It mixes industrial rock, techno and eurodance perfectly, with flawless transitions, while managing to catch the ears of people that aren't into any of those genres. Great intro that pulls you in immediately, and the pacing done just right. Now onto Käärijä himself. He's a fucking star. A legend. It's impossible not to like him. Every video of him I've seen was so much fun. Performance wise, great energy, great delivery. The song manages to appeal so many people with staying unique and checking all the boxes. Want something for the angst? He got you. Want something upbeat? Cha cha cha motherfuckers. Want weird? "My name is Kääärijää", there's our green man. Want quality production? Boy from Vantaa's got it.

The only possible criticism I can see him receiving is something along the lines of "it's gimmicky", which is frankly a ridiculous thing to say about a Eurovision entry (insert the Maryl Streep from Devil Wears Prada meme) and if it were gimmicky, he wouldn't have become the only artist to ever have his name chanted by the entire audience while Sweden gets points, and I wouldn't have replayed it so many times since it came out without getting bored. Honestly, one of the rare songs that puts me in a good mood, cos it has that "starting from anger and angst and acknowledging bad feelings and THEN bringing you to upbeat and happy" thing going on. Eh. Fuck the jury.

This concludes my list. Special mentions.

Not my cup of tea, but deserved the praise - Norway, Italy, Australia, Armenia

Deserved more public votes, undeniable quality, but faded into the background compared to my other favs - France, Czechia

Not for me but I get it- Moldova, Estonia, Georgia

+ Acknowledging Malta for pulling that performance and getting everything possible out of a song that relies entirely on one catchy hook. Most improved entry since the nationals, good show, likeable group, fun staging.

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k10tokima · 1 month

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Hello, it's been a while! Dear friends. I turned 40 today. Since I was a child, I planned to leave this world when I turned 40. But I'm alive. I've been suffering for as long as I can remember, for 35 years. There is a mysterious malfunction somewhere in my body. And I think I've had bipolar disorder type II since I was young. I was finally diagnosed with bipolar disorder recently. I've always thought it was a neurodevelopmental disorder, but maybe it's that too. I can't get those diagnoses (because there's no hospital in my area!).

●But I can think that I'm a little okay now. I've been receiving visiting nurses recently. I don't have friends or family I can talk to. It's my fault. I've also cut ties with my friends on social media. It might be because of my illness. I find it difficult to rely on someone, so I rely on social resources in Japan.

●I'm still resting. A lot has happened in the past few years. Happy things, regrets, anger, sadness, despair. Now I'm trying to get away from them as much as possible. Suicidal thoughts are always in my head. I always vaguely want to die. But I am alive because there are people who help me.

●My family is dysfunctional. And my grandmother passed away recently. I received a picture postcard that my grandmother made before she died that said "I'm rooting for you." My heart is very confused. I was always convinced that my family didn't love me. But that's right, and at the same time, maybe it's a little wrong. At my grandmother's funeral, our family came together for the first time. It's a very strange story. My sibling's pet dog (Kohaku) is very adorable. But I was not able to build a relationship with my family like Kohaku did. I want to continue to keep the right distance from my family. I think it's better for us to be strangers.

●I get tired very easily, so I can't draw at all. I'm glad that I've drawn so many illustrations of the world that I love. They heal me. How happy I would be if I could draw them again. Maybe one day I'll draw them again. I live with vague despair and my beloved fox stuffed animals. I don't know what will happen from now on.

Now I'm scared to get involved with anyone. Maybe I've hurt a lot of people. Maybe it's not true. But I'm scared because I don't know. So from now on, I want to live quietly, trying not to get involved with anyone as much as possible.

●My bipolar disorder makes me hypomanic when I do fun or positive things. So I get hypomanic when I do fun things or create things...drawing pictures or creating things. This is very troubling. But I want to think there is a way to do it well so that I don't get hypomanic. I want to upload the Middle Earth stories I've created so far to AO3 little by little.

●My mental illness has finally started to be treated. I may continue to live alone. I want to live alone, relying on social resources.

My adorable friends♥

Poko-chan🦊, Mikan-san🦊, Oimo-san🦊, Gon-chan🦊

↓my foxes Instagram🦊

↓my life Instagram

20240327

#my diary #my birthday

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vargaslovinghours · 2 years

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Lucky number seven 🎲✨ (1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6)

Oh yeah btw there is a considerable amount of Edgar/Scriabin this time around so like - look out for that I guess lol

[MAY9] Thinking about healing plane Edgar had me very excited, big anticipation and looking forward to seeing him hehe ♪

[MAY16] I didn’t plan for it, but Incoming was basically the prototype of trying out minicomics with sketchier panels - it was a good start! You can also see more of the panel differences in the stream itself, Nny’s hair probably being the biggest one haha

[MAY16] Speaking of - since Scriabin’s expression was central to this panel, it’s interesting to me to see the original draft vs. the final version

[MAY18] I ended up with this mini in multiple stages of completion because I was struggling with it which made for some interesting progression-style gifs!

[MAY18] I think this one was definitely the most extreme out of all the panels, just pop! There they are

[JUN8] Shy Lady!Edgar ♥ Too hot out to wear much, but too embarrassed to show off ✨

[JUN8] Lady!Scriabin getting into mischief she shouldn’t and bothering Edgar, the usual. I love writing out keysmashes, there’s something very funny about it to me

[JUN13] Mwah mwah mwah, so many hearts and happies 💕

[JUN14] And Also With You hands ♥ I made myself a little cheat sheet of the order the shackles attached themselves, I wanted to make an injury index as well but couldn’t swing it, maybe next time

[JUN14] A set of Vargas-style eye expressions! Specifically Edgar, or at least his body

[JUN14] A couple of pleading and contrite Edgars; got the image specifically as a spacefiller, it all worked out exactly as planned haha

[JUN29] I wasn’t kidding, I was very 👀✨💕 about his shirt riding up lol

[JUL2] Possibly the best bonewings I’ve drawn so far, I almost wish they were more of the focus haha. Well they are here! Central and important ✨

[JUL17] I still so love how goofy Demon!Scriabin is, casual and light! Doodling him spinning his tail was fun ♪

[JUL2] They still fight like cats and dogs, natural enemies and counterparts. The chains are just an additional directional tool, it’s all in the utilization

[JUL9] The aforementioned sketchy scratchy minicomic project, finally in full swing! The first one had them quietly interested and in agreement ♪

[JUL9] Well, at first anyway haha

[JUL9] They just can’t help themselves ♥

[JUL9] He’s baby your honour

[JUL17] No one likes a peeping tom, Scriabin!

[JUL17] Come run away with me to a convent with only a bunch of other women come onnnnn, we can totally pretend to just be devout about it ♥

[JUL17] What was I watching, I think it was an r/sapphoandherfriend video and there was a statue of two topless ladies kissing in the background of a failed proposal of a gentleman to the lady who owned said statue lol; an extremely cute pose on top of the environmental storytelling haha

[JUL17] More kisses, sleepy, fuzzy, out-of-it kisses

[JUL18] This was meant to be the original shape of Scriabin’s sheer shawl(?) in the digital Drider doodles but I unfortunately combined the layers before I meant to :’) At least I got to draw it here! Spiderweb design 🕸

[JUL18] @lunavos made mention of Scriabin holding onto Edgar with all his spare legs and mentally I was like “Funny you should say that-” haha, I’d only drawn as much maybe a day or so beforehand!

[JUL18] Just rests his entire body weight onto his oh so helpless human victim ♪

[JUL19] Continuing the trend of starting and then just not finishing pose ideas lol, I ended up losing steam because I think I had dialogue in mind? But I didn’t write anything down so I don’t actually remember :’D Floating Scriabin is always fun tho ♪

[JUL25] Not art, but I jumped back into Tomodachi Life for like, five seconds to quickly make an Edgar Mii because it is my mission to make the Vargases in as many character-customizable/life sims as possible. Unfortunately I literally only had one apartment left open so no Scriabin this time around :( Let’s just say this is while he’s still hanging out in Edgar’s head; I have given him at least one speech line to indicate that Edgar’s talking to him in there lol

[JUL29] It doesn’t count as long as you declare it first! I’m quite pleased with Scriabin’s expression in the second panel, cute ♥

[JUL28] Felt very inspired by WASU_ART’s extremely cute paper dolls and made a base ♪ Does it defeat the purpose of a live-action animation tool if I make a vector with a static pose? Hmmm

[JUL30] What you mean you don’t just casually draw softcore at the library using their scrap paper and pens? I made sure I was away from any potentially bothered eyes lol dw

[JUL30] A healing plane Scriabin for a warmup, what a floof <3

[AUG1] Another panel from the scratch project, I’m so amused with how his face turned out lol

[AUG1] Kiss-dip Edgar, it’s a good way to trick him into hugging him/holding onto him for dear life

[AUG1] And, done! What do I win? Even for just a sketch, I’m quite pleased with the depth on his shaded arm haha

[AUG1] I unfortunately had to scrap this one because I wrote down a specific injury and then forgot it when I went to draw, so it’s more like an offshoot of Restful Dreams - the expressions still turned out nice tho so here they are ✨

[AUG1] Scriabin yelling at a very aggressive scribble, I mean Shmee. Poor Todd, trying to play peacekeeper between them ♥

[AUG1] He just completely deflates in water, amazing ✨ It’s always fun to draw soaked-over-the-head stuff, it’s so silly haha

[AUG5] A handsome Edgar in a nice jacket and turtleneck combo - even tho he was drawn in Summer, just gotta give that Autumnal vibe

[AUG5] How many doubles would Edgar realistically need or have? Time to go thrifting for the less obvious necessities!

[AUG5] A brushed and put-together Scriabin taunting Edgar into fluster? He’s just too handsome, right?

[AUG5] A digital Scriabin that I had a lot of fun with the composition of - the string comes from offscreen and cuts him off like a panel but it’s not a panel! Magic ✨

[AUG6] Scriabin has Edgar’s attention taken away from him for two seconds and he gets So Mad about it haha

[AUG6] Cornered and kissed, what a terrible fate 💕

[AUG6] Ladies do be shopping tho. They’re so tall! They must get asked to pull stuff off the top shelves all the time

[AUG6] If ever chocolate was an essential item, it would be now

[AUG7] Don’t pick on Edgar, she doesn’t always think through her statements! Just because that makes it easy to twist her words!

[AUG7] Hugs ♥ Hugs for Edgar ♥ Time for Scriabin cuddles ♥ No hope of escape ♥

[AUG7] Exit, pursued by Scriabin. You can’t hide from him, Edgar!

[AUG7] Now poke me back

[AUG7] Maybe if you stopped being mean to each other you wouldn’t keep being mad at each other? No? Okay cool

[AUG9] An Eros and Apollo-style Scriabin, specifically based on the frame around 0:53 - super fluffy! And oddly sludgy (And definitely not at all inspired by the post that introduced me to this song in the first place, Scriabin could never be described as egoistic! Lol)

[AUG12] A mini I don’t plan to finish, but it’s still cute

[AUG12] Come on, Edgar, you know he’s playing you

[AUG12] So excited ♪

[AUG12] Y’know Edgar, I think that might have been a trick actually

[AUG12] Seeing something he shouldn’t be seeing! You know the verse about plucking out one’s eye if it causes you to sin? Does that mean his main, already blank eyes or...?

[AUG13] I cut the punchline ‘cause it gives away the entire joke, but I do love Edgar’s sleepy indignance and Scriabin’s *scandalized gasp* lol

[AUG13] Out using a library computer perhaps, got a lot of studying to do

[AUG13] “I was way faster when I was a computer!”

[AUG13] Scriabin and Jake discussing stuff that Edgar’s too uncomfortable with ♪ There’s so much to learn!

[AUG15] I really like the composition of this one hehe

[AUG15] I ended up scrapping this pose but her face really did turn out very cute ♥

[AUG15] Lady snuggles ♥ Scriabin’s close to listening to her heart 💕

[AUG20] Was struck with the image of them holding each other’s chibi counterparts - they’re both so round and tiny!

[AUG21] What ended up being a single panel continuation of Outgoing, he’s gotta be in there somewhere!

[AUG22] Ladyverse Biblical Vargases 💕✨ What no I don’t already have a song picked out specifically for them you can’t prove anything

[AUG22] Casually sloppy Lady!Scriabin ✨ An open pose is very cute

[AUG25] Uncomfortable Edgar, inching away so as not to alert the invitation-extender :)

[SEP17] Somebody asking him about his scars just one too many times, can’t believe this was inspired by Spamton of all things lol

[SEP17] If he can smell “sad” you better believe he can smell other things too ♪ I’ve written down Edgar saying “That’s not a smell” more than once, why do I find it so funny lol

[SEP20] Guess what someone was doing right outside our window :)

[SEP20] Confrontation?? No way! But Scriabin knew that haha ♪

So that’s the end of May through September! A few different kinds of styles, digital stuff, longer projects - branching out :0 It’s fun to see :D

#💟#Doodles #Art #Sketchdump #Edgar #Scriabin #Nny #Todd #Shmee #Jake #Blood #Questionably SFW #I'mma just throw that one out there as a blanket tag #Be warned: kissing and some equal opportunity toplessness once again #I mean it's not /all/ that - just a higher volume than usual lol #Also tried something a bit different with putting the date at the beginning #They're all approximations since I only label the date at the start of a page and it can take me upwards of a month to finish the same page #And then sometimes I start multiple pages on the same day! Lol #But I did cross-reference them with my habit tracker so they're at least mostly accurate #Man everyone's here it's gonna make me emotional if I think about it too long ♥ Except Devi poor Devi :0 #Tumblr: The image limit is 30 | Me: So you said 70 right #Give or take a few here and there I did double up a couple of these lol #Good thing too 'cause this was a hassle and a half to compile without breaking - probably went to edit a good 300 times pfft #This one's even longer than the Snake Charmer one and that one was massive! I guess not posting at all has that effect lol #It was fun to make some of the weirder style ones haha ♪ Like the Eros and Apollo one that was fun :D #Now that I think of it since it's a vector I could size it up to wallpaper size if anyone's interested :0 #Have a goopy neon rainbow Scriabin as your desktop today! Lol #But speaking of not posting - the hiatus did what it was intended to and my recharging is in full swing uwu #So until I reread I'll probably be posting pretty sparsely outside of special events :)#Hopefully it doesn't result in another behemoth of a post like this next time tho lol ♪

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