#Full Written

[mmmercuryy]

if u think about it, Aaron being the one to kill drake but it only being possible because Neil brought a heavy racquet to thanksgiving is kinda symbolic of how Aaron is going to fix their relationship but Neil made it possible by giving him the tools to do so (even lowkey against Aaron’s will lmao). Nora Sakavic ur mind, ugh

[chrollohearttags]

thinking about eren with facial hair…specifically him ravenously eating pussy with tons of stubble and a faint beard. Never even bothering to shave it bc he works such long, grueling hours (and honestly more so because you like the look!). Sort of neglecting his own self care to give you a life of luxury but it doesn’t even matter..not when he’s rewarded by getting to spread you open with those legs tossed over his shoulders. Anklet dangling on his upper back as he greedily feasts on your cunt. He’s breathing heavily and salivating like an animal, hungry only for you and fixated on nothing else. Juices dripping all down the sides of his cheek and his lips and tongue fixated on that swollen clit..thanks in part to you grinding your slit fiercely against it. He knows how much you love that friction so he keeps you plastered right underneath his nose. Gripping your asscheeks to make certain you can’t get away from him and he doesn’t let up until you’ve wet up every single hair on his face.

[stheresya]

i love the way sansa is so proud to be catelyn's daughter. in a world where women are expected to assimilate to their husbands' world once they get married, there's sansa adopting her mother's gods into her creed, taking pride in having her mother's looks, often choosing to wear the colors of her mother's house and, most importantly, drawing strength from her mother's memory. what's so great about this is that it's not an act of spite against her father. she's just proud of being both stark and tully. it's like arya said: the woman is important too.

[rapidhighway]

favorite situation to think about lately

[sualne]

i imagine Mihawk doesn't know how to act around children.

(timeline)

[sapphorror]

The Narrator's perspective only gets more horrifying the longer you think about it. Like, imagine being an Echo of yourself—one of many, all made to serve a very particular purpose and knowingly living on borrowed time, if 'living' is even the right word for your current state of pseudo-existence.

You've inherited the mission of a dead man—it's literally the only thing left that you can do before fading, so you sure as hell better believe in it; the alternative would be unbearable. Only you keep failing. With every loop that you don't remember, your lack of agency in this situation becomes starker—you can influence small things, sure, but it becomes increasingly clear that you have no real power, no matter how personally invested you are in the events unfolding in front of you. You are, after all, only an Echo. You've forfeited the right to meaningfully engage with the world.

Worse—every loop you're made aware of is another time you've failed, with unimaginable consequences, though you had no control over these previous iterations of yourself and can't even learn from their mistakes. Everyone around you is operating on a shared perception of reality that you are not part of, will never be part of. After a few repetitions, you are, ironically, the least informed person in the room. All you have left to go on is an evidently outdated script. At the same time, everyone else is experiencing a contiguous version of you, comprised of parts that are, in some sense, also you, while at the same time existing at a complete remove from your current perception of self. Whatever you don't know you did—that's you now. You are, after all, only an Echo. You've forfeited the right to define your own identity, never mind know what it is.

Even worse—this has trapped you within a stagnant hell of your own creation. Nothing you say or do really matters in terms of your own self (the rest of the world is a separate issue entirely). Anything you've come to believe—say, for totally hypothetical example, that you were wrong actually and your envisioned paradise is really a hell beyond any you had the capacity to envision—has about as much permanence as a drawing in the sand. 'You' will continue, exactly as you were, no matter how much you might like to change your behavior. Every possible future has already been set in stone. You are, after all, only an Echo. You've forfeited the right to say anything you haven't already said.

For some reason, no part of any of this has made you feel more comfortable and at peace with the general concept of finality.

The really, truly absolute worst part, though?

There is no one for you to blame but yourself. And that's exactly what turns your story into such a tragedy.

[that1notetaker]

An unfinished conversation exchange. Next part when.

[thiefkingyall]

Now for the painstaking colouring process... pray for my hands- hand writing those notes to look like they were scrawled hastily while slipping into madness was... not something I had expected to do. Ahem... now if you'll excuse me... the Seaspring calls.

[jays-doodle-spool]

someone should write a story where there’s ppl stuck in a time loop, but the pov is from someone who rlly doesn’t care. there’s a whole ‘protagonist group’ or whatever trying to figure out how to escape the loop but this dude has just kept living their life so no one has noticed that they’re also stuck. they’re just sipping the exact same coffee order for the hundredth time watching the group strategize at an adjacent table and thinkin “man, wonder if they’re gonna figure out how to fix that today.”

[gayofthefae]

Shout-out to the writers who know stats and looked at an 8 kid family and went "2 of them are gay"

[yrsonpurpose]

Please stay gorgeous and strong and unbelievable. I miss you I miss you I miss you I love you. I’m calling you as soon as I send this, but I know you like to have these things written down. A ✿ / ❀

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Transferrable Skills Part 2

Transferrable Skills Masterlist

You don’t often use your MyFet beyond finding a group or conference to attend. You periodically clear out your messages, just in case an acquaintance wants to reach out. So you almost delete the message from the anonymous profile on autopilot, but the subject line intrigues you.

Interested in Distance Play, No Punishments - 14 Hrs Ago

Intrigued, you open it because… at least they read a little bit of your profile.

I noticed your profile because of your self-rope pictures. The rest of your profile is very interesting to me - specifically your engagement in solo play and dislike of punishment. I liked the post you made about obedience as an ongoing active choice.

I’m a man in my 30s with a classified job. I travel a lot, and I’m looking for someone to have a strictly long-distance arrangement with. I’m interested in: non-restrictive rope, obedience, behavior modification, praise. I’m sure there’s more, but I’ve written this message six times. Please let me know if you’re interested in discussing.

Well, that’s refreshingly straightforward and devoid of unsolicited smut. You read the message again, then click into his profile. G_987654321_ It’s… pretty bare. But if he’s got a classified job, that makes sense, right? Location: Antarctica. His age is listed as 33, and he’s listed himself as dominant and seeking acquaintances and play partners. Not interested in hookups, interested in casual nudity, obedience, praise. Hard limits of degradation and humiliation.

It’s not much more information than the message itself, but it’s more than some of the men who have asked if you want to meet up in private. You review his original message and bite your knuckle. Worst case scenario, he’s some troll who will call you a range of slurs and waste your time, and then you’ll block him. Best case scenario… he means what he says.

What are you looking for? Who, What, When, Where, and Why?

You send the message and log out of the app before you can chicken out. Your inner voice is grumbling (stupid stupid stupid), but that’s normal. You let yourself watch two and a half episodes of your latest show, and then make a hearty dinner.

You’re surprised when you pick your phone back up. One new message.

The whole time you’re cursing the app for glitching and logging you out and forgetting your password, you’re sure it’s not him. Most likely, it’s an event announcement from a friend or a bot. But you like going to events, so it’s worth it.

It’s a message. It’s from him.

Who: You and Me What: Praise-based, goal-oriented obedience play When: Twice weekly when we’re both available, but I won’t always be available. Sometimes weekly, sometimes a greater time between meet ups. Where: Virtual meetings. Video preferred, audio-only acceptable. First couple of discussions will be text based until I can get secure video set up. Why: Mutual relaxation and well being. Sexual connection preferred, but obviously not required.

Having a guide was helpful. Thank you.

Well… That’s something.

—

You follow Simon towards the fighting, which is not where you wanted to go. When you point this out, he barely acknowledges except to say “You don’t want to go the other way.” So you keep low and stay quiet and breathe like he told you to.

He leads you down a few halls and you don’t bother trying to remember the route. He seems to know where he’s going. One or twice he has you stop while he checks around a corner, but eventually, he herds you into a small conference room. You freeze when you see three men, but Simon drops the muzzle of his gun to the floor, so you must not be in too much danger.

“Who’s this then?” A man in tactical vest and boonie hat steps forward, and you sidle behind Simon before you know your feet are moving. He gives you a considering look before looking to Simon.

The man in question fishes you out from behind his and plants you in front of him with a heavy hand on your shoulder. “Found Bambi wandering the halls.”

Boonie Hat’s eyebrows pop up. “Bambi?”

“’Bout scared the piss out o’me,” Simon confirms.

“Well, that throws a wrench in things,” the other man says. “But there’s nothing for it. Stow her for now, we’ll keep her safe.”

Simon’s hand guides you to the other side of the large table and pushes you gently into a plush rolling chair. He puts his huge body between you and the others, who look at you curiously,

“Eyes up, li’l fawn,” he intones.

You aren’t sure how well you hide the flinch when you see the skull covering his face, again. He’s quiet as you look between his eyes, clasps his gloved hands in his lap so you can see them when you look over him.

There’s a lot of him to look over.

Now that you’re not moving, you can see the brown spots on the edge of his mask, flecked on his tactical vest. His thighs spread a bit beneath his black pants where they meet the table. His biceps bulge, which is a whole different experience in person than it is online. Theres a gun on his hip, and a knife. Two knives. Three. How many knives does a man need?

Enough for everyone’s throats. You have to bite back terrified giggles.

“You’re gonna stay ‘ere,” Simon tells you, interrupting your musing. Your horror must be plain on your face because he shushes you, again. “Shhh. Easy. This wing’s secure. Can’t keep you safe if I’m wonderin’ where you’ve wandered to. Acknowledge.”

“What if something goes wrong?” you blurt.

“You follow Price if you can't see or ‘ear me. ‘e's the Captain, outranks me,” Simon answers. He points to Boonie Hat, then to the black man, who smiles at you, and a white man with a mohawk, who looks at you like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day. “This is Gaz, that's Soap. You can't find the Captain, you sit tight and wait for one of them to retrieve you."

“But-!”

“Acknowledge, Bambi.”

You swallow back tears. “Please don’t leave me alone.”

“’M goin’ where the guns are,” he answers. “’S my job to take care of you, right? Acknowledge.”

It’s hard to get the words out, but you do. “Acknowledged. You have to take care of me.”

“’M not always going to be able to do that the way you want. Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged. Not always the way I want.”

“’M gonna keep you safe as I can,” he says. “’Nd it’s okay that you’re scared. But this is my job. ‘S not a scene. So I can’t negotiate. Acknowledge.”

“It’s your job,” you say, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Unfortunately, you can feel the day catching up with you, and your eyes start to prickle. “It’s not a scene, we can’t negotiate right now. Acknowledged.”

The one called Gaz approaches from the other side of the table. “Ghost, we’ve got to get moving.”

Before you can integrate the realization that Simon is apparently called Ghost, the other one, Soap, peeks around Simon’s shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “This your bird, LT? Le’s get her tucked away, aye?”

Something about the way he asks if you are Simon’s bird, his girl, flips a switch in your brain. Because you’re not Simon’s girl. You’re not even supposed to have ever met in person. You’re an online sub, a weird, awkward, anxious person who couldn’t find an in person connection. And yeah, Simon-Also-Called-Ghost is an online Dom but apparently that’s because he’s running around Europe rescuing people from hostage situations!

It’s a little much.

You suck in a breath through your mouth as everything gets blurry with tears. Your whole body shakes with the sob that you try not to let out. You simultaneously want to lock every muscle in place and curl up on the ground to die.

A hiccup shakes you hard enough that you almost fall out of your chair.

Simon’s gloved hand grips the back of your head, and you’re guided to press your forehead against his thigh.

"Shhhhh," he whispers, and you can almost pretend that you’re listening to him in your ear from thousands of miles away. His pants are tough and scratchy, nothing like your pillow, but the steady pressure of his hand is so steadying. "It's okay. I know this isn't a scene, but the same rules apply. You feel overwhelmed, don’t know what to say, you hold up 4 fingers. No punishments for feeling something. Show me."

Holding up 4 fingers feels familiar. The way his hand cups the back of your skull doesn't. But it's still nice.

Sooner than you’d like, Simon guides you down off the chair and under the table. You can’t pay attention to the others, though you can see their boots on the other side of the room. Instead, you keep your eyes on his his right hand, stuck on the inane detail of skeleton themed gloves. Your dom wears skeleton gear to work. His work is killing some people and saving others.

That hand cups your chin and makes you look up into his face. His eyes are dark, piercing. His voice, when he speaks, sends shiver down your spine. “Stay. Acknowledge.”

You’re already about as low down as you can get, but you still duck your head as much as you can while keeping eye contact. “Acknowledged. Stay.”

His thumb caresses your cheek for a long moment. And then he’s standing. Chairs are pushed in to surround you, and four pairs of heavy boots dash from the room.

You curl up, hug yourself, and let the tears fall.

You wake up with a start. Your whole body hurts, shoulder and neck and hips tight like they haven’t been in a long time. And of course they are. You’re on the ground, lying under a conference table. Why the hell are you under a conference table? You’re not in college anymore, you’re too old for this shit.

And then you see a pair of huge boots round the edge of the table and remember.

Your heart is in your throat as two chairs are shifted away and a huge form drops into a crouch. A part of you flinches back from the mask, the tactical clothing, the blood you almost can’t see shining on his boot. But then you see those eyes and think, Oh. You came back for me.

[vincentbriggs]

Dear person on the bus this morning with the Dracula quote tattoo whose phone was open to my youtube channel, sorry I pretended not to notice and also was too shy to say hello

[harveybwabbit92]

Grocery girl: Ken Sato x reader pt. 1

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You were a delivery girl who was a frequently dispatched to famous baseball player's Ken Sato residence, you were a nobody that anyone hardly paid attention to, until you found the legendary baseball passed out on his front steps looking like hell, being a bit of worry wart you help him inside and that things took a HUGE turn when you find yourself playing mommy for a giant baby dragon....

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Part 2,Part3,part4

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"He's been ordering a lot of Coconut water lately..." R/n mumbled as she loaded up her delivery van with the items on the shopping list Ken Sato's assistant sent her for his bi-weekly delivery, usually he just orders beer, protein shakes and a melange western food some of which were not a common find around Japanese super markets.

R/n had to go special import stores for some of the stuff Mr. Sato orders; which takes R/n though a wild runaround of the entire city, A route that none her other coworkers had the time or patience for; even the self-proclaimed "Sato-fan queen" Who stole R/n's route gave up within 20 minutes when she couldn't find the tiny shop that sold his special brand of coffee.

Her saga ended when she tried to cut corners and grabbed random items and delivered those instead...Yeah, that went over like a lead balloon. Her majesty got a harsh chewing out by the boss after Mr. Sato's assistant complained about the delivery and threatened a restraining order after the younger devilry girl displayed an obsessive and aggressive attitude.

(I.E. taking selfies of herself in front of the house, flirting into the intercom and trying to force herself into Mr Sato's house when she realized he wasn't home.)

Needless to say, R/n was assigned Mr. Sato's personal delivery girl, cos she was the only one that didn't have crush on him. Much to the ire of her female and few male coworkers. R/n remembered the first time Mr. Sato was there to receive his groceries in person. He seemed thrown off by her complete impassiveness towards him....

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{Flashback, To Ken taking the groceries from R/n, he kept staring at the delivery girl expecting her to crack a smile or squeal excitedly or something, but no, she kept a neutral expression on her face and stayed professional during the entire transaction.]

"Uh....Aren't you going to ask for my autograph?"

"Nope."

"But...I'm Ken Sato."

"Yeah, I know who you are and I don't care. sign here."

R/n holds out her tablet as Ken stares at her baffled; he signs the digital receipt, R/n printed out the receipt sticker and slapped it on the the box the baseball player was holding, The (Y/Height) woman then tipped her hat to him before getting into her van and driving off leaving Ken standing in his driveway completely dumbfounded. 

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After that Mr. Sato and R/n kept their interactions short and sweet, which seemed to work just fine for them. But things change and R/n was going to experience a very big change in her life.

It all started when the Sato-stalker queen Or Meiko AKA: "Meimei" as calls herself on her blog invited R/n to Mr. Sato's premier game, R/n tried to reject the offer as gently as possible; sports were never really her thing, but the bottle blonde girl had guilt tripped her into going. Apparently she doesn't have many friends (wonder why?), so there was R/n sitting up in the nosebleed section while feeling awkward in the sparkly baseball jersey Meimei had insisted she wear for the occasion.

The whole time the blonde was squealing and blabbing about Mr. Sato and how handsome he was and how unfair it was that R/n got to see him, thought the older woman was quick to dash whatever hopes Meimei had of hearing about Mr. Sato's personal life by informing her that he's barely home when she delivers to him and few times he is there it's just to receive the groceries.

"What goes on in Mr. Sato's private life is not our business..." R/n affirmed Meimei just pouted and called R/n mean before turning her attention to the pitch, she gasped loudly and started shaking R/n excitedly. "Ohmygash,ohmygash!! It's him! she squealed as Mr. Sato stepped on to the field towards his position at bat.

R/n couldn't help but wince when she watched Ken miss the first two balls, she saw the catcher from the other team say something that peeved off Mr. Sato; it looked like they were going to throw down until the umpire calmed it down and Mr. Sato change his position at the third pitch.

He pulled off an impressive power hit that got the crowd screaming and cheering. However, as Meimei was squealing and shaking R/n for what seemed to be for the umpteenth time she failed to notice her older coworker's attention was completely fixated on something else.

She felt R/n suddenly grab her hand. Meimei looked at R/n bemused but then noticed her complexion had gone ashen as the older delivery girl pointed up at the sky; the younger one followed her gaze and lost all of her peppiness in seconds as an explosion from a downed aircraft went off over the stadium causing the entire place to shake!

The stadium erupted into chaos as R/n instinctively covered her younger coworker from any fallen debris as the Kaiju alert system went off ordering everyone to evacuate! R/n and Meimei wasted no time getting out of the stadium just in time to see Ultraman arrive and punch the Kaiju away from the stadium. R/n stood back to watch them fight for a few moments before a hysterical Meimei dragged her away...

{Cut to a few hours later}

R/n was finishing up a few late night deliveries, some of her coworker didn't want to come in due to the monster attack so R/n was forced to take over their shifts. She had just finished delivering cat-food to a nice old lady, when she got a call from Mr. Sato he wanted donuts and coffee.

R/n sighed and went to work she pulled up to Ken's home on the old delivery scooter the boss had rusting in the back seeing as it was a small delivery, it was raining heavily by the time she pulled up to the house. R/n walked up and knocked the door Mr. Sato opened the door and looked startled to see her.

"Uh, What are you doing here so late?" He asked looking around his driveway, R/n cocked a brow and held up his order like it should be obvious. "Yeah, I know...But it's usually the old guy that delivers this late." R/n explained he took the night off she was filing in, Ken reluctantly took the donuts when he notices how wet her uniform was and looked outside again and noticed the rusty scooter just chilling in his driveway and frowned.

"You didn't drive all the way up here on that thing did you?" R/n just shrugged Mr. Sato looked like he was going invite her in or something, but they were interrupted by a weird cry coming from somewhere in the house. "What was that?" R/n inquired bouncing on her toes trying to look over his shoulder, the baseball player got this 'oh crap' look on his face as he quickly blocked her view.

"Uh, Nothing, j-just my TV! Here's your tip!" R/n's phone pinged the delivery girl's usual calm demeanor was replaced with one of panic as she tried to explain that Japan doesn't practice tipping! Only for her eyes widened in shock the amount he sent her. "...And e-Even if we did do tips, I think you overdid-" Mr. Sato quickly cuts her off. "No I didn't!" and slammed the door in her face.

R/n blinked a few times as she looked between her phone and the door baffled after a few seconds of trying figure out what that all about? Before shrugging then walked back her scooter and drove off....

{Ken gave the reader about three hundred dollars.)

[Next time R/n finds out just what Mr. Sato was hiding in his house the encounter was both cute and terrifying.]

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Cross posted on my A03/Squidgeworld/Wattpad.

[arthursfuckinghat]

Sometimes I think a lot about Arthur's old journal, the one he had prior to the game's events that got burned in a fire, and how Arthur went a long time without a replacement.

He wrote that he missed writing and drawing, more than he thought he would.

The journal is a wonderful tool that allows us see through Arthur's eyes and how he deals with things, it's one of his healthiest coping mechanisms, so it makes me wonder what those journal-less months were really like for Arthur.

Whatever and wherever the fire was, the time spent up north in the Grizzlies and travelling down from it, Dutch nearly buying some land but getting spooked by the law, new people joining them, and then the gang spending months in the wilderness before moving to Blackwater - it all sounded like a hectic time. But he never wrote about how he felt, he just wrote about what had happened.

Yet, he said he missed writing and drawing. He missed it. He had the itch to write and draw for ages, but he couldn't.

Maybe he struggled with the chaos of those few months without a journal to empty his frustrations and thoughts into, maybe he saw so many things he wanted to draw and it aggravated him that he couldn't, maybe he was slightly more irritable than usual with everything that had pent up and having no means to release it, and so on.

I just think about it a lot.

Especially if you took the journal out of the main game, you'd be taking out a huge portion of the story and the insights we have into who Arthur is as a person too. It's impossible for Arthur to not write in the journal, even if you never open it. It's a vital tool that helps define him and show us how he moves through the world, how he copes with the world.

So if Arthur had his journal taken away by a fire all those months ago and went a long time without, what would he have been like?

[mothcpu]

happy 2025! words under cut

like last year, I have very few goals art-wise. I'm still keeping in the habit of completing at least one or two pieces of finished artwork every week, and I experiment when I can. also working on photobashing a lot more, and it's been fun! I have a fairly large project that'll be released uh... whenever I get around to illustrating it fully. a sneak preview:

also, like last year, there's been a completely ridiculous amount of love for DECT. it's really amazing to see the amount of love it's gotten and the number of people it has affected. keep circulating the tapes! (also it got its own fucking tv tropes page this year????)

while these past months have had their own fair share of bullshit to handle, especially with my own mental illnesses barely under control; I'm happy with the amount of progress I've made with treatment and the amount of things I've been able to do in spite of it all. I got to knock a couple concerts off my bucket list, and was able to visit some long-distance friends. love you all very much, I hope to see you all someday :)

also, a list of media I enjoyed!

special media mentions: bull of heaven for making me feel more sane while unmedicated at work; the venture bros., which @/catboycephalopod and I grew to love an inordinate amount; scherzo by robert shearman for fucking me up beyond belief, mission to zyxx for being a really good podcast, the BL visual novels I cannot disclose the titles of because this blog is safe for work, and mirage for living in my head while paying rent in looking cute.

hope the new year treats you all well. stay safe <3