#I spent a lot of the month working on my inking and trying to use a lot of solid blacks

[robindaydream]

You really ought to take better care of yourself

artfight attack of Hellebore and Brackish for @bananasmores

[brainrotfm]

the sideshow spectacular: week one

☞ pairing: nurse!ryomen sukuna x f!reader

☞ word count: ~4.6k

☞ short description: yandere fertility nurse sukuna who thinks he's pulling a fast one on you except you're yan4yan and have masterminded this exact situation from the start

☞ content warnings: dark content, modern au, no curse au, yan4yan, yandere behavior, medical play kink, breeding kink, light bondage, inappropriate power dynamic, baby trapping, afab!reader, feminine descriptors + pronouns, blink and you miss it daddy kink, probably a lot more honestly i'm sorry for being a pervert

☞ notes: credit shhhhh don't look at what time this was posted i *definitely* made the cut off for week 1 also this came to me in a vision and then i feverishly wrote between today and yesterday also this is my first posted smut ever pls be nice also also also not beta'd not edited we die like men have fun xoxoxo

You have turned him into a monster.

You, with your kind smile, the way you offer it so carelessly to every person you meet. You, with your adorable gestures, fidgeting and fiddling with pens, magazines, the edges of your skirts as you sit in the waiting room. You, with those trusting eyes, lashes fluttering at every passing sensitivity. He could read your emotions clear as day, and spent too much of his time doing so, pretending to work behind an antiquated desktop as he side eyed you.

The other nurses had caught on, of course - ever watchful hens, they were quick to pinpoint his interest in you, tutting at him in the break room only for a moment about it being inappropriate to desire patients. Their admonishments turned teasing without him interfering, settling into their usual lust for office gossip without another acknowledgement. In truth, his coworkers were delighted, in fact, by the pink haired man "softening" over you.

This would have drawn his ire, even his retaliation in most instances. Until Sukuna realized he was purposely being slid your chart whenever your monthly appointment rolled around, an unexpected convenience in Sukuna's intricate plan to claim you as his own.

He had only heard of your husband in passing, the man only present at your introductory interview with the fertility team and the first few appointments before his obligation to you waned. Sukuna despised him for it on principle, but in practice, no other presence in the exam room meant having his bubble of heaven. A single half hour appointment, once a month, where he reviewed your chart, asked invasive questions about your health, took blood, gave the occasional ultrasound, offered advice on the repetitious nature of fertility treatments, and flirted his ass off as he watched you giggle and squirm under his attention. The prospect of cucking this faceless man only added to Sukuna's dark desires.

Today was finally the day. It was even circled on his desk calendar, red ink.

"You look handsome," you offered him the compliment easily, your voice obscuring the click of the door locking behind you both, back to him as you set your jacket on the extra chair. Sukuna preened for a second, smiling to himself.

Sukuna was wearing a tight, long sleeve black shirt beneath his favorite maroon red scrubs, the smallest hint of a chain beneath his collar, and comfortable black sneakers - none of his piercings, sadly, and since his interview, he had worn make up to cover his face and neck tattoos at work as well.

He knew you meant it too, as he diligently wore the exact same outfit to every one of your appointments since the first time you had complimented him all those months ago.

"Already buttering me up, you better not be trying to get out of your blood work," Sukuna teased as he opened one of the nearby cabinet drawers, retrieving his special black gloves that only he was allowed to use, quietly noting that none were missing with a smirk.

"You always remind me of a tattoo artist with those," you deflected, tossing him one of your oh-so pretty smiles.

"Y'know, I buy these with my own money, and I'm gonna let you in on a lil' secret... That's why, that's what I want you to think," Sukuna bantered back, so at ease around you that he rolled his sleeves up thoughtlessly before making a show out of snapping the nitrile against his wrists. He had never done that before.

You had caught wisps in the past, only question marks until today. Thick black bands of tattooed ink sat around his wrists, hidden now beneath his gloves that blended so well against them, it made sense why he liked them so much.

Your mouth went dry at the sight, licking your lips as you choked out to him, "I didn't know you had tattoos."

The tone of your voice had him raising a brow, lopsided smirk already in place, "Is that a deal breaker, baby?" If only you knew.

"Those can't be the only ones," you replied, and if Sukuna wasn't mistaken, there was a lilt of hope sitting between your words, causing his smirk to soften to a smile, his heart wrenching for a moment at you. You. He was going to ruin you.

That when he noticed that you were still standing awkwardly, your things deposited in the nearby chairs as you rocked on the balls of your feet, something about you seemingly overwhelming tense despite being in such good company. You were being different today too; Sukuna hoped you didn't sense something was amiss.

"Everything okay with you today, doll?"

"I, um... I was wondering if we could wait, actually, to do the ultra sound today," you started shyly, and he could tell you were fighting the urge to wring your hands as your fingertips jittered against your wrists. Despite your words, he continued to dig materials out of the cabinets, glancing at you over his shoulder as he spoke.

"You want to do blood first? Feeling bold today, sweet girl?" Sukuna hoped so, he had big plans for you. He turned from the cabinet to approach you to do the prep work. He didn't want to waste anymore time, but maybe having you light-headed from lack of blood wasn't such a bad idea - he stopped when he saw the look on your face.

"Is there any way I can have a physical exam today, actually? Y'know, like my annual one, but instead... now," your question was rushed as you looked toward him but not at him, and Sukuna knew this because he was staring you down, a predator honing in on his prey. He felt like he could hear your pulse from where he stood, and it made his mouth water.

"You mean your pelvic exam?" he repeated, almost dumbfounded at his luck - were you stupid or naive? Nurses didn't give pelvic exams, that was the doctor's job. Your chart only had an appointment for your usual round of bullshit, blood and ultrasound, Sukuna trying to upsell you hormones your insurance wouldn't cover, blah blah blah.

God, you were so pretty and dumb, was this on purpose? Were you trying to manipulate him? You'd been here enough times to know better, right ? When was the universe ever so giving? Sukuna figured there was really no way you'd fall for what he was about to try, sure this was your attempt at catching him red handed in his obsession over you, but he didn't care. He'd take the bait, even if it was a shot in the dark for you.

His head had cocked with his thoughts, a lopsided grin unfurling across his cheeks as he regarded you with darkening eyes, coughing to clear the husk of his arousal from his voice. "You know, the doctor has been in and out all morning. Something with her kids. I'd hate for you to get stuck waiting around for her. I could always administer the exam, if you'd like."

He very much could not, but he kept his wicked smirk in place, silently praying you wouldn't call his bluff. To Sukuna's delight, your gaze twitched between him and the exam table, knees rubbing together briefly before your hesitation subsided and you made a half step in its direction, wavering as you looked down at yourself. He understood in an instant, clicking his tongue in recognition as he went back to the drawers to dig out an exam gown for you, both your hands lingering on the package when he passed it forward.

"I'll step ou-"

"No, you can just... stay," you sounded much more confident now, cutting him off with a defiant look in your eye, the smallest curl of a smile tugging at the corner of your lips, "You're going to see everything anyway, right? J-just turn around, maybe?"

You were so cute, he wished he could kiss you right then. Using every ounce of his control to suppress his smirk, Sukuna turned on his heel and faced the opposing wall dutifully, the urge to peek over his shoulder at you easy to resist when he knew exactly where all this was leading. As if the wheels hadn't been in motion since before you had even arrived today.

It was sort of erotic, though, to hear the jostle of your clothes hitting the floor, knowing you were naked and so close to him, and being unable to touch or see. Not yet. A little more patience and he knew he would reap the best of rewards. You cleared your throat when you were ready and Sukuna turned, unable to hid his smirk now that he saw you in the silly canary yellow exam gown they gave people here. You were still adorable, though.

Stepping to the side, Sukuna pulled out the lowest shelf of the table to act as a foot stool and help you up, before moving to each side to unfurl the arms of the stirrups he'd be putting your feet into. He couldn't think about it too much or his cock might hear, already on thin ice until you were properly restrained. The room had grown painfully quiet, Sukuna unable to continue joking with you when he was barely keeping his hands off you.

It was taking every ounce of his self control to not start panting and drooling like a dog at the way you quietly obeyed him, without question. So trusting... So easy, it took nothing to lead you down his path of corruption. His skin was starting to get hot, but Sukuna ignored the prickling beneath his shirt, knowing he needed to retain focus now more than ever. Oh, you were speaking. Fuck.

"I read online that during ovulation, there can be blockages that, like, can contribute to the problems I'm... having, you know," you were rambling, words rushed, and Sukuna realized you were embarrassed by the information you were offering. Cute, so fucking cute. You probably should be, it sounded like snake oil garbage, but Sukuna thanked whatever AI algorithm spat that nonsense into your brain as he nodded along.

"Hmmmm, well, that's only sort of true," he hummed through the lie easily, trying not to let his fingertips linger too long against the soft skin of your calf, your ankle as Sukuna strapped your left foot into place. He was even quicker with the right one, worried you may change your mind if he idled too long.

He used his foot to kick the rolling stool closer and sat down in a smooth motion. He couldn't give you a moment to think, because if he did, you may realize your mistake. Sukuna's hands were already beneath your gown as he rubbed both palms eagerly at your inner thighs, cooing from beneath you when you jolted at the sensation, "Hey, it's okay, it's just me. You trust me, yeah? I'm not going to hurt you."

Only some of it was a lie, but you eased regardless, somehow relaxing when you shouldn't be. Sukuna would've clicked his tongue, admonished you, if he wasn't the villain in this story.

"I'm going to look at you now," it was a command more than a question, not waiting for your consent before his hands are moving to your outer thighs, pushing the gown up easily, the fabric already wanting to give from the angle of your legs in the stirrups. It just needed some encouragement.

Glancing up at you, Sukuna noted your fluttering eyelashes and shallow breaths, and realized you probably needed some encouragement too.

"So beautiful," he couldn't stop his silky whisper, barely even trying to keep up the ruse that had put you here, careless as he finally gazed at your perfect pussy, splayed out wide for him. He wanted to touch. He needed to taste.

"Y-yeah?" the quiver in your tone perfect, and Sukuna fought the urge to moan at the entire situation, wondering how someone as bad as him could have such a perfect moment unfolding like this.

"My prognosis is that you have pretty pussy syndrome," Sukuna couldn't even stop himself now, having gone mad as soon as he could smell your arousal, spit pooling on his tongue as his fingers twitched on your thighs. He wanted to touch you everywhere. He wanted to have everything. He leaned closer, his breath beginning to fan over your folds, using two fingers to spread you even further, really expose every inch of you to him. He had dreamed of it for so long, Sukuna couldn't help but linger here, just a moment.

"I d-don't think you're supposed to talk to me like t-that," you wriggled beneath him despite your words, probably beginning to realize this may have been a bad idea, but it was too late for you. You'd have to scream, and to be frank, Sukuna would shut you up before anyone could intervene. He was too close to what he wanted to be stopped now - not that you would. The wetness leaking out of your pulsing little entrance reassured him.

"Yeah? That was unprofessional of me, wasn't it?" Sukuna feigned agreement before he was licked a flat stripe from your perineum to your clit, making sure to linger and kiss at the hooded bud once, twice before giving an experimental suck, earning him a pitched keen that had him grinning.

"But then why are you so wet for me, doll?" the pet name dripped venomously off his tongue as two deft fingers pinched and rolled at your clit, crimson gaze peering up your body at your reaction. The look on your face was almost enough to make him cum right there; your tongue was poking out between your lips as you panted, eyes hazy and hooded, unable to tear your gaze from where Sukuna sat between your legs and continued his ministrations. You already looked fucked out, and he was just getting started.

He laved his tongue gently against your rapidly engorging clit, another whimper falling from your lips when a fingertip started to tease at your fluttering entrance. Already so sopping wet with the prettiest slick he'd ever tasted, he was so entranced by you that he was hardly listening.

"T-this isn't... This is different than what-" You sounded so cute like this, all high pitched and whining. Needy for something you couldn't ask for, not yet, not that you'd have to - Sukuna knew he'd give it to you, give it all to you, give you everything he had.

"We're doing a different kind of exam, doll. I'm not your gynecologist," Sukuna chided back with a sharp laugh, his words full of a condescending mirth as he sunk two fingers deep into your cunt, fighting his own moan at how easily your pulsing hole gave way to him. A moment longer of watching your cunt gobble up his fingers to the knuckle and Sukuna was going to finger bang you to death, truly.

The nitrile gloves were definitely the culprit, the addition of all your slick eradicating any friction. To be fair, your pussy was tight enough that when your walls fluttered around the sudden intrusion, Sukuna had a momentary worry that making you cum might break his hand. It'd be worth it though, so the thought passed him by.

He curled his fingers deeper, prodding and scissoring against the gummy slick of your walls, searching for the spot that would make you sing. He knew as soon as he did, a sharp inhale followed by a whimper leaving your mouth, and the man fought against his urge to grin at all the pretty sounds you were making just for him. Because of him.

He shushed you, easing the pressure against your G-spot, just swirling the pads of his fingers in a circular motion as he purred your name before admonishing you softly, "I really do need you to quiet down, we can't disturb the other patients in the waiting room. Can you be good?"

Your bottom lip was firmly beneath your teeth but wobbling precariously, the sight of you adorable but albeit, not very reassuring. Sighing, Sukuna slipped his fingers out of you, which left you whimpering and squirming, much to his pleasure. Standing between your legs, he regarded you with a cold scowl for a moment before reaching down both hands to shove your exam gown higher from your hips , up up up, not stopping until he'd bunched it beneath your arm pits and freed the jiggling fat of your breasts to the chill in the air. You didn't even wear a bra, whore. His characteristic smirk was back in place at the newfound sight of you.

He couldn't help but stare for a moment. He didn't think he could get away with taking a picture, and he needed to commit this to memory.

After a moment, he reached for the hem of your gown again, this time bunching a fistful together before pressing it against your lips, his smirk going crooked with arousal when you took it with a tentative bite, the pretty doe eyes gazing up at him starting to water.

"Shhh, don't worry, I'm prescribing the perfect fertility treatment for you today, it's even covered by your insurance," Sukuna shushed, the comfort and sympathy offered obviously fake as his fingers tips caught on your entrance again, unceremoniously shoving three forward. Maybe Sukuna was the one who needed the gag - he all but groaned when half his hand sunk into your pussy without resistance, your messy hole squelching loudly for him.

Your eyes immediately rolled as he began an unforgiving pace, hammering his knuckles against your thinly stretched entrance, his other hand having shoved into his pants to fist his cock for even the smallest ounce of relief. Despite your muffled whines to the contrary, your hands began to smack helplessly against his shoulders, the only defense you had to the onslaught of pleasure as you were otherwise pinned and tied to the exam table, by your own wishes. You had, quite literally in Sukuna's opinion, asked for this.

Sukuna squeezed the base of his cock when your flimsy pushing against his chest finally registered, because you weren't even really trying to get him away, because you were still moaning like a little bitch. He almost came at the thought.

His thumb found your clit with ease, the poor thing swollen and begging for attention as he swiped against it, and he had been right in his earlier observation; the added sensation had your pussy clenching down around him so hard, one of his fingers folded over another, practically crushing his knuckles from pressing into you any deeper. You were about to cum for him. That wicked smile of his began to curl across Sukuna's features as his other hand left his cock to take over at your clit, flicking back and forth in a quick motion while the hand buried in your cunt gave several practiced tilts forward.

"Pretty little doll," he groaned hoarsely, pressing in hard against the spongy tissue of your G-spot until your back arched from the table, tits wobbling in the air. Sukuna knew what you needed, grunting a commanding, "Now, cum for me now," before surging forward to bite one of your perfect nipples, the sudden change in angle and added sensation your ultimate undoing.

Like a bow pulled taut, you snapped at your peak, a surprised shout barely escaping your throat before your cunt flexed hard, before splitting itself open with a gush of clear liquid around Sukuna's eagerly awaiting palms, the hand inside you stilled to let you ride on while he continued to lazily flick your clit, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could.

You were going to feel heavenly around his cock.

Sukuna felt his eyes roll back as he mercilessly pummeled his hips forward, unable to slow himself down, your cunt filled to the brim with his girth. His hand was grasped so firmly over your mouth, you could only helplessly cry out against his palm, laving your tongue and teeth over the skin for some amount of grounding sensation as the man ruthlessly fucked into you.

The stirrups had kept you spread wide for him, unable to wriggle away from pleasure and pain alike, and a puddle was forming on the floor as your needy cunt drooled around his abusive thickness. So perfectly fucked out, just for him. Your walls fluttering indistinctly from the spasms of your orgasms, your euphoria evident from your slick sodden pussy, your heavily lidded gaze, your labored gasps for air beneath his hand. Grinning, he pinched two fingers together and closed your nose, and your entire cunt clenched, and Sukuna barely stifled his own groan as he ricocheted into you with renewed vigor. He let go when your eyes began to roll, and it seemed that the flood of oxygen back into your brain combined with the frenzied thrust of his hips had you shattering around him once again.

"Oh my god, look at you," Sukuna choked out lowly, "you're just sucking me in, it's like-"

He was gazing down to where your bodies connected, wonder twinkling behind heavily lidded maroon eyes as he watched your cunt take him still, after already cumming twice and probably so sensitive, still. His heart hammered in his chest, the pressure at the base of his cock getting dizzying, making his mouth run as his brow furrowed, unable to take his eyes away from your drooling slit as he chased his high.

The exam room stank with sex, filled with the wet slaps of his hips and low grunts, your cum drunk mewls broken and pitchy and barely muffled by your spit-soaked gown. It was a wonder you both hadn't been caught yet, but at this point, it just seemed to be Sukuna's lucky day.

"You want me to cum in you, don't you?" Sukuna asked breathlessly, not actually caring for the answer, because this had been the point all along. The entire plan hinged on filling you to the brim with his seed.

"You want my fucking cum, you want to be bred by me and not your stupid fucking husband. You want me to fuck a baby into you, you dirty fucking whore, so shameless," as he spoke, his thrusts began to speed up, his control finally dwindling as he hammered recklessly into your perfect sopping cunt. He was unable to stop himself from reaching down to grind his palm against your clit, adoring the way your walls gripped his shaft, milking his thickness for all he was worth.

"It doesn't matter what you want, m'gonna do it anyway," he hissed, crimson eyes wide and wild and boring down at the pussy he planned to fill with his seed, absolutely deranged with his singularly focused obsession, and the sight had you shuddering around him again, your third orgasm unexpected for the both of you.

Sukuna had no chance against your spasming walls this time, his hand finding your throat and dragging you up for a ruthless, harsh first kiss. More of a mashing tongues before Sukuna cried out with a growl, dropping his head to muffle himself with a bite to your shoulder. Instinct shoved his hips forward, burying his cock as close to your womb as physically possible as he came, flooding you with warmth. His cock jumped inside of you, twitching and sensitive against your fluttering walls, both of you hissing and moaning softly as your hips continued to rock slowly, riding out the overstimulation.

Your chests were pressed skin to skin, Sukuna's head was still tucked in the space between your neck and your shoulder as you both came down from your highs, silent except for the shared panting. Sukuna was the first to speak, chuckling as he lulled his tongue against the mark he had left, kissing the already blossoming redness in a surprising act of tenderness.

"I marked you up pretty bad, doll, between that and my baby, I don't think you're getting away with any of this. What're you gonna tell your man?" Sukuna didn't know if it was pride or jealously twinging his words, but whatever it was, it tasted bitter on his tongue, despite all the blessings he'd received today.

A beat passed before you tried to sit up on your elbows, the angle of the exam table not exactly helping, once hazy eyes now trained on his, absolutely twinkling as you murmured, "Probably nothing, I guess... considering I'm not married." You wriggled beneath him, still pinned beneath his chest as you danced your hips back and forth around his softening length, making cum leak out and down your puffy slit in a proud display.

"What?" His cock hadn't even come out of you yet. You were gonna make him hard again if you kept that up.

You giggled, the sound sparkling with delight as you repeated, "I'm not married. That man isn't my husband."

"He's been here... It's part of our screening process."

"He's just some actor guy I hired. I don't even know him." You didn't even have the nerve to sound embarrassed.

"What does that mean? He gives samples-"

"I give samples on my 'husband's' behalf. Why do you think our treatments haven't worked?" your smile had grown wicked, a twin lopsided grin to the one he usually wore, pupils dilated as you admitted your sins, your pussy even giving a little spasm on his now rapidly hardening cock. You were getting off on this, you little she-devil.

"Then what's even the point in coming to a fucking fertility clinic if you're not-"

"All for this. All for you," your confession both the sweetest and most deranged thing he had ever heard of in his life, and that was saying something, considering... him.

His heart skipped a beat.

Sukuna was pretty sure he was in love with you.

You thought you had finally stunned him. You had, for a moment, like a flash bang. But Sukuna recovered quickly enough, reaching an expert hand down to drag the middle shelf out from the front of the exam table. He stepped his right foot forward before hoisting a knee to plant his left foot firmly on the stool, using the advantage of his palms already under your knees to unceremoniously shove you into deep mating press, no longer constrained by stirrups.

His fat cock could bully against your cervix easily now, and considering he never skipped leg day, his stamina in this position was nothing to be trifled with. He gave an experimental roll of his hips, sinking tip to hilt without any resistance, the movement causing you to shout hoarsely at how quickly his balls pressed against your asshole.

"Oh you fucking slut," Sukuna purred in delight, his condescension sticky sweet, "Since you want my baby so bad, we'll make extra sure it sticks this time, but you gotta be quiet and we gotta be quick." You opened wide as he grabbed a handful of his special black gloves from their box and balling them into your gleefully awaiting mouth. Leaning forward so you were caged against his chest, Sukuna rolled his cock deeply into you again, content with your muffled whine of ecstasy, before setting a brutal pace into your already cum sodden cunt.

"And call me Daddy this time."

[josephquinnswhore]

it ain’t weakness, baby - joel miller x female reader

Summary: Joel survived Abby’s brutal encounter, but has left him with major mental and physical disabilities.

Word Count: 2k

Content Warning: mentions of reader having ptsd, blood, amputation, scars, disabilities, murder. blowjob, Joel whining and begging????? cumming in mouth. female masterbation/orgasm. Joel praising reader. insecurity. Joel treating reader like shit. implied age gap.

Note: yeah.. I kinda ruined my own heart with this one.. anyway, enjoy!

Things weren’t the same. They’ll never be the same. That’s what Joel said, over and over. Saying anything he could in order to push you away, to try and build back the wall between you that you’d seamlessly picked away at.. brick by brick all them years ago.

His old age wasn’t his hinderance. His physical disability wasn’t his hindrance. Though, these were his painful claims, that he couldn’t bare to see your youth wasted on someone like him. A no good—worthless old cripple. That’s what he called himself..

“You’re wasting the best years of your life on me! There are plenty of healthy and capable men that could take care of you here! Just.. just go and find someone else!” He’d spat through gritted teeth, his insecurity gnawing at his insides after he saw a younger man offering your hand at the Christmas dance.

Joel Miller had sunken into the dark and ever falling abyss of self destruction and isolation, daring to say cruel things to you, to push you away.

He’ll never admit it’s the last thing he truly wanted, in fact he was terrified of the thought of you leaving.

One day he found out what you did.

“Tell me you’re not that stupid.” He insults, glaring at you from the recliner he’d come so attached to.

“I did. Tommy and Ellie and I, we fucking did it Joel. They’re dead, all of them, we made them suffer. I made her suffer before I buried her sorry ass for ever touching you!” The argument was bound to get heated, after all, they were talking about the girl that mutilated Joel and left him disabled.

“Do you realise what she could’ve done to you? Look at what she did to me!” He snarled. “Goddamn fools the lot of you!”

He didn’t want you to leave, to stop fighting for him. But he convinced himself he was worthless. He saw it; the looks people gave him, sympathy strewn on their faces. Sympathy he didn’t need. He was fine.

It was the irony of it all. He told himself he was fine, he didn’t need help, he could somehow maintain some semblance of control and independence. No matter the wheelchair, or the crutches. Yet, he would snarl and snap at you, unwilling to keep you close. He would angrily claim he was worthless, useless.

“I can do it!” He growls, shrugging off your hand from the metal crutches, his first time using them as a result of his amputated leg. Refusing any help, as he had done every single day for the past few months.

Perhaps at one point, you did grow tired of it. Of his inability to try. After months of trying and limited resources, you’d tried to teach Joel how to write again, how to play guitar, how to sculpt, how to fix.

“Baby come on, please! Just try again for me. Five more minutes then I promise we can stop.” You pleaded, and were met with a dismissive snarl.

“I ain’t no damn kid so stop treating me like one. I’m done with this!” The pen was sent flying, ink splattering all over his favourite journal, which you’d spent a few hours delicately cleaning to save the important book.

You were trying to get him to live. To have the independence he so desperately craved, but he was stubborn, always had been. He was his own worst enemy.

You were even kind enough to take the only spare time you had, to build him a wheelchair accessible ramp, it was weeks worth of labour, and trading a tonne of sentimental personal items to trade for the wood and nails. Yet, it remains unused, even now, as it rains and the snow coats the wood, they begin to rot and wither. All your hard work and dedication to your husband had gone completely unnoticed.

Yet, for some reason, you never quit on him.

“Stop scowlin at me like that and just try, would you?”

He grunted, his hand trembled, the majority of his soup fell off the spoon. With whatever strength he had, he tossed the spoon onto the floor, as it clattered along the wood, it sends soup flying all up the wall. The bowl soon clatters to the ground before you can catch it.

The bowl was heavy, and the sound of it on the hardwood floors sent your movements to a halt—frozen. Your ears ringing as if it were that forsaken shotgun again, tearing a hole through Joel’s leg, flesh and blood splattering against the carpet rug and the floor. Stumbling, you take a moment to yourself, rushing out of the living room and into the kitchen.

The noise over and over replaying in your mind, the golf club coming down on Joel’s head, sure you would witness the love of her life being brutally murdered in front of your eyes. What Joel didn’t know, as far as he assumed, that you had these triggers as a result of ptsd.

The ticking of the clock in the kitchen becomes unbearable and you find yourself back in the living room.

Waiting for you, is another mess of his you’d have to clean.

“It feels like you’re not even trying anymore Joel. It’s been months—why can’t you see I’m trying to help you!” You insist.

“I don’t need your help!” He growled bitterly.

“So you’re just going to sit in that stupid fucking chair till you die huh? Is that it?” Finally reaching the breaking point after your recent trigger, tears cascade down your red cheeks.

His scowl softened, into a look she hadn’t seen since the incident happened. He battles his ego and his stubbornness to finally reach a hand out to you, his shaking fingers just graze your own.

“Baby—you know I don’t mean it.” He murmurs hopelessly. “I’m—I’m sorry. I appreciate you tryin’.”

The atmosphere changes in the air, the winter suddenly doesn’t feel so harsh, and the breeze that slides through the crack in the window frame can’t be felt over the warmth of the heater that Joel nests by.

You kneels down onto the floor, taking his trembling hand. “I’m not giving up on you. When we took our marriage vows I fucking meant them. Just let me be here for you. It’s killing me that you’re trying to push us apart. Please.”

For some reason, your plea pierced his old heart with such reverence that he doesn’t argue, he relaxes his tense shoulders and murmurs, “okay.”

Finally, acceptance, peace. The white flag was being waved. Seventy two days of fighting was finally over.

“Shouldn’t be.. on your knees like that baby. You—you’ll get sick.” The worry in his voice had another kind of anxiety behind it.

One that you soon found the reasoning of.. his cock.. stiffer in his pants than you’d seen it in months. “Don’t tell me you’ve been suffering all this time.” You gasp in disbelief.

His aimless gaze and silence was enough to confirm the accusation. He’d been so sexually frustrated.. that he hadn’t been able to cum.

“This is why you’ve been so upset.” You murmurs. “Isn’t it?”

He answers with a simple and shameful nod, you press a kiss to his hand, ready to offer him a solution. “Can.. Can I help you?”

The question takes him off guard, his thick and greying eyebrows meet together in a low frown.

“Why would you want to touch me? I’m .. I’m a goddamn freak—“

“You shut up and let me decide what I see you as Joel Miller.” You scold. “I see someone strong, brave, handsome.”

He scoffs, but it doesn’t deter you. Instead it only motivates you more. Leaning up against the recliner, your chest on the left side meets the fabric, where his leg had to be amputated from the thigh downward, due to the inflicted shotgun wound.

“I see a man so incredibly capable, of living, thriving. Needing help doesn’t make you weak, baby. Let me take care of you.”

His trembling hands struggle to unclasp the stubborn button on his jeans. “Hey, just let me look after you baby. Relax.” You insist softly.

Making quick work of his button and zipper, your cool and small hands make his cock look enormous as it springs out of his jeans, rock hard. Has it always been this big? Perhaps the illusion of deprivation has her mind as desperate as her dripping cunt. Even your mouth begins to salivate, gulping as you come eye level with the small clear bead of precum.

Without warning, you lurch forward, pressing a small kiss to the red and aching tip, before swirling your tongue around the bulbous head.

“Ah, ah fuck baby,” he whines, sharply inhaling a breath, his good hand moves to grip the back of your head, begging for you to swallow him.

His desperate pleas only serve the purpose of rilling you up, with the gentle touch of his fingertips in your hair, desperately clutching at a fistful of your hair..

Opening your mouth wider to fit his enormous girth, halfway down and you’re already gagging. He whimpers, sounding the most vulnerable she’s heard since their last intimate encounter. Sneakily, you slide a hand down to your entrance, sliding your fingers inside to collect some of the slick before, sliding them upwards towards your enlarged and throbbing clit. whine is muffled by his cock.

You push on, feeling the mushroom tip sliding down your throat as you gag, covering his cock in your warm and sticky saliva. His untamed coarse public hairs tickle your nose.

The noises were absolutely despicable and lewd, the way you took the whole length of him, gagging at every descend, it was a sensation that had him trembling underneath you. His trembling hand attempts to clutch the arm of the recliner.

“Baby, baby stop.” He begged. “Not.. I’m not gonna last.” His breath quickens and as he tensed up, you take his length out of your mouth, but he quickly thrusts back into it, craving the warmth and the pleasure of the hole.

“Don’t stop, hmph please don’t stop.” He pleaded in a whine, Joel Miller, begging you.

You felt your stomach tightening, the pleasure of your fingers on your soaking clit, swirling at the perfect pace and Joel’s soft voice begging. You moan around his cock as your legs tremble underneath you.

Joel finally catches on and it’s the last straw for him before he throws his head back onto the recliner and grunts, the growl that leaves his lips is primal and comes from his throat. “Fuck—such a good girl.” He stutters and thrusts his hips upward, filling your mouth and throat with him, sending his ropes of warm cum straight down your throat, you drink, like it’s the last source of energy you’ll ever receive.

His hand unclenches from your hair as he feels himself shrinking inside of your mouth, encouraging you to look up at him, and you do. You’re met with Joel, looking at you with all the love and adoration and affection you deserve.

“Come here baby.” He murmurs, his thumb caresses your cheek as you look up at him. Climbing up onto his lap, you rest your head on his shoulder.

“Could.. could you please pull the recliner back?” His voice escapes timidly. Here he was, asking for your help; finally.

With a swift movement, you pull on the latch on the side of the recliner and the bottom end swings upward, now you’re both laying, your hand reaches for a warm blanket on the nearby couch, and toss it over the two of you.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.” The world circle in her ears, and she runs her thumb over the large scar on his forehead that spans to his temple and eyebrow. “I wouldn’t ever dream of it.”

“I love you, Mrs Miller.” Is the last thing your happy heart hears before your eyes flutter, peace and pleasure lulling you into a dream.

[keikikait]

ꜱᴜɴ ʙʟᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ (ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴇᴘɪʟᴏɢᴜᴇ)

this is part four. for part three, click here!

pairing: biker!megumi x f!reader (au, both are early to mid 20's)

word count: 950

summary: your relationship with megumi escalates and crescendos

warnings: no smut but is suggestive, use of the pet name 'good girl', a bit of angst, toji mention, not proofread. i couldn't help myself so i made it somewhat angsty. its my specialty.

a note: this is the final part!! THAT BEING SAID, more megumi to come! (literally)

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Even though you lived just next door, you spent all of your time at Megumi’s.

His apartment was a lot bigger and was surprisingly well decorated for a man. The walls were adorned with carefully curated artwork, each piece thoughtfully selected. Some were Akira prints, but he had some traditional Japanese art hanging as well. There was one photo that always caught your attention when you walked inside; a family portrait. Hand painted, it seemed, with baby Megumi and presumably his mother and sister dressed in traditional Japanese robes. There was a man in the photo, well, a man’s body, the head being painted over with black ink. You wondered if it was his father. 

He didn’t speak about him much, and you didn’t ask. You could sense that it was a touchy subject for him.

Megumi’s furniture was quite plain, definitely all Ikea sets in the same cream and beige colourway. He had a few hanging shelves adorned with figurines and manga collections, as well as a bright red Daruma doll. On your one-month anniversary, he coloured in the other eye, confessing to you that the left eye held the wish that he would have you. You found it romantic. At first.

You felt happy, the happiest you’ve been in months. For the first time since you were a child, you saw a man who wasn’t angry. It was as if a radiant sun had risen within your soul, dispelling the shadows of melancholy. You spent your days lounging with Megumi, dancing with the windows open, sharing sun bleached kisses that tasted of summer with your hair in his tight grip. Each kiss was like a brushstroke, as if he was crafting you in his perfect image.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

After work, you found yourself in the comfort of his apartment once again. You stared up at the painting, as you often did, and even though you tried to convince yourself that you were looking at baby Megumi, you were really trying to look under the ink. You reached up, your fingers brushing over the ink, when his apartment door suddenly opens.

You quickly pull your hand back, sitting down on his armchair.

Megumi enters, a grocery bag hanging from his hand, and his eyes immediately land on you in the chair, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. He sets the grocery bag down and steps towards you. “What are you doing?” 

He was always so suspicious. “Waiting for you.” You say, tucking your foot underneath your butt.

The corner of his lip twitches with a smirk. He leans forward, resting his hands on the arms of the chair, trapping you in. “Oh really? Because it looked to me like you were touching things you shouldn’t be touching.”

“Nope.” You shake your head. “Not touchin’ anything.”

Megumi scoffs at your response, his smirk still stained on his lips. He hums, leaning in closer to you, his breath warm against your neck. You shiver, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. “Uh huh. You really think I’m that dumb, sweetheart?”

“No, you're not dumb, Megs.” You say softly. 

Megumi takes one of his hands off the chair and slips it into your hair, gripping tightly, his slender, calloused fingers twisted into your strands. “Then why do you try to lie to me, hm? I thought you would know better than that, yeah?”

You found yourself hard-pressed for air and sweating. “I don’t…I don’t--”

“I don’t, I don’t.” His tone of voice makes you wince as he mocks you. Megumi tightens his grip in your hair, pulling it just enough to force a gasp from your throat. “Don’t touch my shit, sweetheart. Okay?”

For a second, you don’t reply, too stunned at his sudden attitude switch.

He yanks your hair again, causing you to squeak in surprise. “When I ask you a question, you respond. Is. That. Understood?”

You nod. “Okay, Megumi. I’m sorry.”

He relaxes his grip, his gaze softening slightly. “Good girl. You’re lucky you’re pretty when you’re desperate, or else I’d have to punish you. I don’t like it when you touch stuff that belongs to me.” Your cheeks flush with memories of you spread out like a flower underneath him as he forbids you from touching your clit. He would rub it for you, of course, lightly pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

A sly smile slowly spreads across his lips when he sees your cheeks flush. “Ah…that’s why you’re blushing, sweetheart?” He leans forward, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you remembering what happened last week?”

You nod.

Megumi lets out a low hum, his smirk growing wider. “That’s what I thought. You’re not a very clever liar, is what I’m discovering. Should we try it again?” He lets go of your hair and uses his thumb to tilt your chin up to face him. “Don’t touch my stuff. Don’t be naughty, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You say softly. 

His eyes rake up and down your body, taking in the sight of you sitting there looking up at him with those big, innocent eyes. It’s driving him crazy. *He* has all this power over you now. “You look so sweet when you obey me. It’s a good look for you, love.”

He lets go before stepping away, starting to unload his groceries. 

You sit on the chair, the foot that you tucked under your butt completely numb. You took a deep breath, your shoulders rolling, and you couldn’t help but wonder if you made the right choice. Maybe you weren’t what Megumi needed.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

more megumi fics to come where he won’t be an ass i promise

★taglist: @whereflowerswenttodie, @rosieandthethorns, @sillygoose3082, @byebibyemia, @ichorstainedskin, @myeeym, @peach-filth, @aockskcw, @phoenixmoxxileigh, @gojussybussylover, @gumiiiiezzzz (italics means i couldn't tag you!)

[nancyheart11]

It’s “appreciate yourself” hours! Pick five pieces of writing/art that you’ve done that you love and talk about them! ❤️❤️❤️

Lofty the sheer panic of realizing I have to confront the knee jerk, everything I make is bad reaction, took me this long to get over it

This has nothing to do with LU, but I actually smile every time I see this picture, and remember making the cookies and leaning just how the new cookie presses is been given work, the fun of finding a baby spoon to use in putting the filling in, arranging the cookies on the plate while fighting off ravenous teenage bois, it really made me happy

This is some covid art I did for a superhero ttrpg I was in! This is the fusion (a big plot point of the campaign) of my croc mutant girl and our unable to be detected by cameras sniper! I'm super proud of how the foreshortening came out and super duper grateful to my roommate who let me run multiple of her pens out of ink with my shenanigans

The best embroidery I've done to date! I got bored and started drawing silent princesses a lot, then one day I realized that my nice jeans have studs in the shape of flowers on the flare and that a silent princess would be perfect on the back pocket! I spent months working on this during church and having a blast doing so! I had to go and buy more green because I ran out working on this XD. In fact this project is what lead me to finding one of my irl LU friendos!

The cloak that I made for Sugarcube this spring was so fun! Part of the challenge was only using materials that were already on my fabric shelf, which meant that the faux fur collar was really really tricky to cut out since we did NOT have the recommended amount of fabric XD. Also Sugarcube has excellent taste in hook and eye fixtures.

And of course I have to mention The Blush of Dawn which I know isn't very well liked, but the idea gripped me so hard that it made me actually try writing for fun again, after 7 years of giving it up. Even now I have ideas for that story, though I struggle to get words on the page for this one more than the others 😅

[inkabelledesigns]

I know I'm posting a day late here, but Happy Birthday Bendy! February 10th, 2024 marks the 7 year anniversary of when Bendy and the Ink Machine came out. And boy, has it been a wild ride. Normally I would reserve this for my Bendy sideblog, @angelofthepage , but I'm posting it here because this is where I started years ago, and I want some of those people who don't see that blog to have a chance to see this. Because you guys are a part of this story.

In about three months, seven years ago, I was in finals hell, working through my process book for my packaging design class in one of the dorm lounges while my roommate had taken the room for herself again. And the only thing keeping me sane was putting Can't Be Erased and Build Our Machine on loop as I worked. BATIM only had two chapters out, and I didn't know everything about it, but I was so intrigued by what its deal was. I took one look at Sammy Lawrence and I wanted to know everything about him. Something about this barely started game, the idea of your characters coming to life to kill you, it thrilled me, intrigued me. It was something I was really afraid of, being so attached to my characters and putting so much of my identity in my art. And while the story isn't really all that much about cartoons themselves being alive, it gave me something else that ended up changing my life.

Over that summer, I would become obsessed, and for the first time in years, I let myself be a fangirl again. And maybe one day I'll pull up the timeline and tell you how it all went down. But right now, after all the celebrating of yesterday, I just wanna take a moment to appreciate the last seven years. All the people I've met, all the friends I've made. All the experiences we've had together, big and small. Some have been incredibly close, and others have been people I still smile about whenever I see them on my feed, even if we're not all doing stuff in the same fandom anymore. There's some people I've fallen out of touch with that I likely won't ever see again that I miss. There's some I'll be lucky if I never see again. There's the official voice actors for Dark Revival, which I've had the pleasure of working with on community things here in the fandom. I regularly moderate their livestreams (or Lovestreams as we call them) where they sign prints and interact with us fans (and sometimes I'm tech support, once an ink machine technician, always an ink machine technician xD). I'm honored to call a lot of them my friends, we've had some truly wonderful conversations. I've spent a lot of time in a variety of servers, trying to uplift people and make for a positive fandom experience for everyone, fans old and new. Sometimes it lands me in interesting places, like helping out over on the Inky News channel. The host, Brandon, invited me over to guest star on his anniversary stream yesterday, and in the past I've been fortunate enough to showcase my art on two of his interviews, one with Dave Rivas and one with Adrienne Kress. Sometimes it lands me on fun projects, like working on a fan game, and for the first time it's not as a voice actor! I'm a writer. I've had my work uplifted in turn too, meeting people who value me for me and also cheer me on when I try new things (sometimes entirely new mediums like doll customizing). I got my first helpful constructive critique in this fandom, and it was something I ASKED for. That is a huge personal milestone! I have a really complex and twisty set of feelings about critique, and finally, I feel better, because someone helped me start to unravel that just by being themselves and being thoughtful. It's inspired me to want to be better in how I handle critique and problem solving with others.

I spent so much of my life putting my self worth in other people's hands. I thought I would never be good enough to have friends who didn't treat me like garbage. I thought I'd never be a good artist in any sense of the word either. But I was wrong. I've grown. I'm valued, I'm wanted. I don't have to hide parts of myself to be desirable. Sometimes being the silly, goofy, fangirl that is Kat is enough. My art is enough, my ideas are enough, my flavor is tasty, and I am a goddamn treat. And after so many years of not knowing that, I'm glad I finally do. And it's all because of the people. It wasn't ever that my flavor was bad, it's that I hadn't found people with a taste for it yet. Bendy's greatest gift was giving me a fresh start, a chance to meet new people, good people, and for that, I'm forever grateful. Even though things have changed, I'm glad I met each and every one of you, you all taught me something valuable along the way, and I think about those experiences we shared often.

I won't lie to you, I've been rather frustrated with Bendy lately. And I think a lot of it has to do with the games not truly having grown with me. At some point our paths deviated, and there are elements of what's come and what's coming that are getting away from what really enticed me about the very first entry, the things I valued most in it. But in some ways, analyzing that has led me to figure out what made that first game so special. It was human. It was a character focused game, and each of the characters, while vague, gave us just enough about themselves that we could feel for them, get invested, imagine, maybe even sympathize. Everyone is a tragedy, but they're all different flavors of tragedy. And it was seeing people explore that, seeing people write these characters in ways that were so human, that really built a connection. For some people, Bendy is another indie horror experience. For others, it's something to indulge in that hits hard on a personal level. In many ways, it attracts a lot of us who feel like misfits. It's many things. But to me, the magic was in the people. The people in this universe, and the people in its real world community.

It has solidified my belief that people should play with fiction however they want, no matter how far it deviates from the canon, no matter how weird it is. Go be interpretive, go tell your story, go be free to make what speaks to you! (All I ask is that you're thoughtful about tagging it so people can make smart choices about engaging with it.) All stories are worth telling. Even if no one gets into it, having told it makes a difference.

Whether you're someone who's been there from the beginning, or someone that's new to Bendy, I hope you're all having fun. Whether you've finished exploring the world or you've just begun, I hope you've found something valuable. Thank you, for coming along for the ride. Here's to many more fun experiences and stories, be they official or be they in the fandom. Happy Bendyversary!

[dottedmage]

GOOD LIRD I FINALLY FINISHED THIS

Finnally a proper references for my agent headcanons hurray. “Nakey” version + other info under the cut (looking you with eyes, you will read everything)

Timeline for this is Sara and Cube post RotM, Mars and Eight with their splat2 outfits but beginning of splat3 appearences (i was too lazy to come up with clothes lol)

Sara

-23 years old

-Top left side of her head is permanently scared due to direct contact wih sanitized ink. Has permanent blury vision on her left eye, moderate hearing loss on her left ear and pain on her left shoulder.

-His hands and feet got hit by significant amounts of fuzzy ooze while cutting it all down. This is why he wasnt able to keep going 👍 (no bones for an ankle to be broken uknow)

-Says the most unserious of things in the most serious tone, seems like theyre joking but its always from their heart

-Sees themselves a lot in Cube and takes care of it and gives it advice contantly. Offered Cube to go live with them after their mission was over but Cube refused

-Knows a little bit of octarian, hes trying his best but has a unique way of mispronouncing words

Mars

-22

-Very clumsy during his 1st time as an agent so he has lots of scars because of that

-Scars on his right side are from a bomb explosion gone very wrong

-After splat2 she grew her hair out and styled it to match Maries a bit

-Lives in a shared apartment with Sara and sometimes Eight

-Was catching up with her high school missed agent years and is now studing some general science/space-based course 👍 he like space a lot

-Was very mad and very upset and very sad he was not the one choosen to be sent into space to save the earth

-Fluent in octarian, also knows a bit of salmonling

Eight

-22

-Her weird spots are a reaction from perlonged exposure to a sanitized environment, the bigget her spots are the better, the smaller the worse. She sometimes wakes up with random pains, especially in her right arm and back

-Lives with Pearl and Marina post OE, also spents a loooottt of time at 4 and 3s place

-Fluent in inklish but has a funny accent

-Loves travelling with Pearl and Marina, honestly she loves travelling with anyone but her cool lesbian moms go to 100 places in a month so its a plus she gets to go with them for free

-Very good cook, is bad with deserts but shes getting better

Cube

-16

-Became a little furry tiger-ish inkling due to prolonged exposure to fuzzy ooze. Unlike Sara it is less fuzzy, its just spread all around its body

-Cannot change into squid form and produces ink very slowly in a small amount, limiting its capacitie of participating in ink related sports.

-Scavanged the deserts around splatsville for trinkets to sell in 2nd hand markets and fairs. Meet with Deep Cut once or twice during that period, hence their pre-assumption that it was gonna steal the stuff for itself

-In their free time they used to participate in turf wars. They considered doing salmon runs but found it extremelly wrong and immorall

-Little buddy was a salmonid that wanted to see more of the world so they snuck into, a very distracted, workers hat. Lucky for them that worker was very friendly, and tired of grizzcos work, so they showed little buddy all around splatsville and its deserts and even a beach. They quickly beacame friends and are inseparable now

-It knows salmonling wowow

-Maths fan, number one stan of geometry and shapes

-Tableturf card collector

-Lives in a too-big of an apartment with the squid sisters

-Goes to school now hurray!!

-Visits Sara a lot, doesnt spent much time there as Eight but does show up unannounced

Suspense music, relatioship thang:

Sara

About Mars; My friend, my one and only. I can count on her for everything. I do have to keep an eye out for her extreme clumsiness

About Eight; I wish i got to spent more time with her. Shes very fun and makes me feel at home when shes around.

About Cube; Was this how Callie and Marie felt when i joined the splatoon? Fun kid, has to stop stepping on metal.

Mars

Sara; oh Sara my good friend Sara. We ding dong ditch together, our neighbours hate us but they dont know that. (also i dont think she realizes were dating....)

Eight; oooo my love kiss kiss muah muah

Cube; funny kid, does need to make up for not inviting me to space with them. Im joking, i love it and the little rocks it gives me.

Eight

Sara; Hes very unserious! You would think behind her intimidating looks is someone thats shy and reserved but she has the wildests things to say sometimes, shes very funny i like her a lot (we need to talk to her abt that, you cannot keep assuming things Mars...)

Mars; There is not a single conversation with you where i dont laugh my heart out. Thank you for the butterflies in my stomach head and eyes

Cube; It comes into our house, it eats all the food, it gives a long detailed compliment, it leaves. Interesting child i guess.

Cube

Sara; Seemed very intimitading at first but i think shes just worries about me but hey! i can take care of myself fine

Mars; i like to give her animal shaped rocks and crystals.

Eight; I haven't talked or seen her a lot but she cooks so well

o wow you read it all congrats! you have the right to 1 (one) drawing request ;) and if you have anything to ask please do, talking abt headcanons and stuff makes me develop characters faster and its fun :]

[butterflymarks]

stats / plots / muse

heyyy i'm gonna be real, this intro got chunky. BUT! that's bc i badly want to start writing and i had a lot of Ideas. i'm duha (xe/xem/xir), presenting my goth rat kiyeon with the ability fearsight. 🎈 under the cut, i hopefully explain what the hell his deal is. like this post if you'd like me to reach out for plots (d*sc*rd preferred im scared of getting sb'ed again)! i listed ideas at the end, but i'm also down to just start writing and go with chemistry if preferred. i AM crazed enough to write u a random starter if that's the vibe. ps. my other muse eunjae (aka the Cooler moon twin) is @999kintsugi, but she's on a sideblog, so i won't be able to follow back there unfortunately.

kiyeon, '98

it/its/he/him/his. you'll see me use them interchangeably but feel free to use Any pronouns for him on ur end yipeee

fearsight is the ability to induce potent feelings of fear, hysteria, panic, etc through psychological visions of the target's deepest fears. wherever applicable, their minds may project that fear onto kiyeon and they'll see him as a personification of their fears.

butterfly marks (minor passive "ability"): his skin is naturally covered in moving whorls of black, ink-like markings. they shift and gather into various shapes and patterns influenced by his moods or when he's using his ability, tending towards symmetric or radial patterns, sometimes resembling the patterns of a butterfly's wings.

???: he can't see his own reflection anymore. if he does try to look at himself, there's just Something else looking back. he's afraid of it.

his therapist says it's an extension of his main ability that has been stunted. in greater evolutions of fearsight, the metahuman could actually take the physical form of someone's fear.

isn't that something great to look forward to, The Therapist says, you'll grow into something More, but kiyeon just wants to know when he's going to grow into a skin that's bearable to live in at all ?

his fearsight is persistent & triggered by visible eye contact. it can work on other ppl through clear reflections, so he hasn't made meaningful contact with anyone in years tbh.

quiet, nervous, jumpy. probably looks scary bc of his markings but you might have heard him crying in the garden last night.

the journey so far:

lived with his older sister for a while, until he decided to leave about 2 years ago bc he felt guilty about burdening her.

uhhh fell into the serpents' circle shortly after, aka a petty villain group. was inadvertently "taken in" by them (see: he was too scared to leave), and now he's their part time publicity stunt kidnapping victim and part time videographer when they need "organic social media footage" of the crimes they're committing. they're trying to make it to the big leagues.

kiyeon is just there because one of them is apparently making him "a cure" for his eyes. it's been years since that promise now, but. you know. (see again: he is too scared to leave)

finally sought actual help and got into silver line 8 months ago. the research team thinks his markings are fascinating, they keep monitoring him and telling him to contact them if he ever feels "physical turmoil." like girl what??

(they're waiting for his power to evolve to allow him to actually physically transform)

(cw: themes of body dysmorphia) has a lot of feelings about his body and feeling distinctly grotesque and horrific. when you spent ur whole life getting ignored or being looked at in literal horror, how is ur sense of self & image supposed to survive unscathed. :|

anyway he's on a tenuous streak of stability atm. he even got a job at the animal shelter!! he's been substituting company with the animals for human connection because animals aren't affected by his eyes at least.

really a bit pathetic i won't lie. fucked up street cat rizz, if u will.

some connection / thread ideas:

here are some more Formal connections i'm looking for, let's figure smth out

a roommate...!!

he pokes around the places you're not supposed to. someone try to get into the 13th floor with him and then deal with the consequences.

i plan for his fearsight to evolve over time and become something more of a nightmare form, his true potential....wherein his body really does start to take on little characteristics of people's fears, humanoid or not. i think he has a long way to go to full transformations, but any muses who would like to encounter him on that path are welcome to hehe. just please know he'll probably have a breakdown on them afterwards. maybe your muse would be in the middle of one too (because kiyeon scared the daylights out of them yk) but that's a-ok! i love writing encounters where everything's a mess, so let's make them cry together 💢

someone he accidentally beamed with his fearsight before. now they're terrified of him, and he accidentally inherited some of their fears/phobias

he goes to group therapy sessions bc his therapist thinks it's good for him to have Human Contact, but mostly he's just quiet and never looks at anyone. maybe your muse is there too and they just start getting through their shit side by side ?

someone go to the movies with him. he loooves scary movies, he loves watching characters getting tormented by horrors and being like omg me too!!

eden is full of crazy powers so let's throw them in something crazy together !!? i crave high stakes threads

does anyone else feel less-than-human. does anyone else go out on walks in the middle of the night bc they feel like it's the only time they're "allowed" to be out (aka they can't endanger anyone). does anyone else want to be a little less alone on those walks.

fellow serpents 🐍 all kinds of dynamics. i'm thinking the serpents just basically try to cause unrest and chaos; maybe one time, your muse is supposed to be part of the incitement and kiyeon's supposed to get it all on camera .... except it goes wayward, and the others ditch them to throw them under the bus, so now they have to get away from the aeternals :\

anyone who's in that other villain group using the laundromat as a cover. maybe they're rivals with the serpents hehe ? or they cross paths in the villain business ?

be his first resident complaint

thank u for reading this far :people_hugging:

[alpydk]

Eclipse (Part 12) - "Sequester"

Next chapter is another of my favourites - But this one has Rolan living life to the max!

Ao3 Link

“My dear, Tav. It has been too long.”

You had passed through the portal with Lúthien, glad to see that your old friend Rolan was still in charge of Ramazith’s Tower. You remembered the day he took over so many years ago, surpassing the Elven wizard and becoming master. He’d tried to play it off humbly, speaking about how the tower had always been destined for him and you’d smiled as he’d then gone on to have no idea how anything worked around him. Now, he seemed much more competent.

“Rolan, you really need to do something about the projection at the door. It has about three phrases and none of them work if you have even so much as a slight accent,” you lectured before wrapping your arms around him and hugging him tightly. The long-needed contact with someone almost brought all of your emotions to the forefront, and it took a lot of your focus not to unload everything on to him instantly.

He laughed, his tail whipping around you both involuntarily, and he quickly pulled himself back from your grasp with a slight blush of his already scarlet tinted cheeks directed away from your smile. “Well, a projected image is required. It can’t be expected that I’m to be downstairs with the common rabble, can it?”

“You’re just as terrible as you used to be.” You smirked before noticing Lúthien out of the corner of your eye trying to pull a book from a throne shaped collection. “Really? That’s what you’ve spent the years doing?” Looking at the literary seating, you motioned for your daughter to find something else to investigate.

Rolan noticed where your gaze lay and chuckled before walking in its direction, his presence enough to cause Lúthien to scarper. “Well, a wizard needs his hobbies when the drive to carry out research is dwindling.”

You sighed, curious about what other random artistic displays he had come up with over the years here. It reminded you of a day with Gale where, in a rare moment of downtime, he had spent hours on a spell to arrange all his star charts onto the ceiling, creating a replica of the stars in the sky. You’d asked why he hadn’t just conjured them as normal, only to be told this was something essential to his research. It hadn’t been; he had just been experiencing a rare bout of boredom.

“But Tav, I suspect you are not here to complain about the service at the front desk or about my choices of pastime. What brings you to me after all these months? Waterdeep missing wizards of my calibre?”

“But of course,” you playfully said, having missed the time with your friend.

“As I suspected. The quality of Blackstaff has been slipping since that debacle all those years- “ He realised his poor choice of words as he saw the sight of your body language bristle. He didn’t need to say any exact details, as there had been so few accidents in the history of the academy. “Ah, my apologies.”

You nodded, knowing he didn’t mean any harm. He just had a habit of forgetting himself sometimes. “It’s actually that debacle I’m here about.”

---

Gale was growing increasingly frustrated at the projection in front of him as it ignored his requests. He spoke slowly and deliberately, trying to get it to acknowledge what he was saying. “I…need…to…”

“Welcome back, valued customer,” it interrupted in Rolan’s cheerful tone.

“Oh, for the love of…” sighed Gale tiredly. “We’re not going to get anywhere at this rate.”

Shadowheart stood under the stairs, looking towards a woman who was whispering to the other customers. “Gale, perhaps that is who we need to speak to.”

He rubbed at his brow, taking his eyes off the projected image. Why couldn’t they just hire a real person to help? It would be much more effective and less time consuming, he thought to himself, raising his eyes to the ceiling above him. An essential incantation. He noticed star charts hung above him, the curling parchments overlapping, the smell of the ink on the papers, and with it, he heard the sigh of a woman. Taking his eyes from the unnecessary art, he saw her smile and knew from then on that he wanted to create stars for her and for her alone.

“Welcome back, valued customer.”

The charts were gone as he looked back up and remembered where he was; another memory placed. “Well, it can’t be any worse a solution than this.” He relaxed his shoulders and followed Shadowheart to the back of the store with a hope of finding the answers to what the crown was and how it could be used for their benefit.

---

Mystra sat amused at the spectacle before her, that all her pawns were again in the same place. Never could a mortal go against fate, and it was fate that was bringing them together, her control of the weave pushing the pieces around as if they stood on a lanceboard of her creation. She had spoken to Elminster about her wishes, and although he had not questioned her, he had also not been as willing to follow orders as he had in previous generations. Too many times had she been asked about why she wanted not only the crown, but Gale and the child as well, and each question she had batted away with annoyance. What did it matter to him why? All that should matter is that it was her will.

A cruel smile emerged on her lips as she thought of Gale by her side, his astral form embodied with hers once more. She had missed this sensation, this feeling of being alive. It was one thing to live for eternity, but another to experience it, and few would ever understand the demands that came with immortality. She watched as Gale heard of the book that would tell him all he needed, as he walked up the stairs with a new determination in his eyes. Her gaze turned to the child as it stepped towards the portal, ready to leave the sanctum of the tower, moments away from meeting its fate.

---

Rolan had tried for some time to get the crystal ball to work for you. He’d conjured up images of others with ease, even letting you see Avernus for a moment and one of his tiefling contacts which fought there. But Gale had not appeared at all, the magic artefact instead glowing lightly before the shadows set in once again.

“And the sending spells no longer work, you say?”

You nod your head knowing that all these factors together mean one thing: that Gale is gone. Despite everything, the spells, the words, the distance travelled to be with him; you had lost him again. Your mind tried to tear itself in two. It wanted you to break down and accept the harsh reality in front of you, for you to have to return to Waterdeep without him and ultimately lose all hope, but a small part of your heart refused those truths; not until you had heard it directly from the one responsible, from Mystra herself.

You barely spoke as again the crystal ball went dark and Rolan took it for his collection. It was Lúthien, hurrying to the portal, excited for the next destination, that caused you to say something. “Thank you, Rolan.”

He smiled with sympathy before he spoke with care to you. “Tav, do not lose hope. My life has not always been one of constant success. You may not even believe this, but I, too, had my share of failings.”

His words caused you to let out a light scoff and nod in agreement. They may not have been much, but they were enough to let your hope simmer deep down.

“Oh, before you leave. Maybe the young girl would like a souvenir of her time at the tower?” He knelt, signalling to Lúthien for her to collect something from him, and she ran over with enthusiasm.

You were not sure what he handed to her as he waved his hands around in a mock magic trick, pulling something dark from behind her ear, but you appreciated the gesture, nonetheless; that this small moment would be one that all of you would remember fondly.

---

Gale walked past the portals and stood casually as Astarion picked the lock behind him. “Knock would be much more effective, my dear.”

Astarion scowled as the first lockpick snapped in his hand. “Maybe so, love, but it’d also have every person in here looking at us.” The lock clicked, allowing the vampire to open the door. “Besides, knock would mean the absence of these delicate hands.”

Gale moved aside, allowing his companions to enter the small room now accessible to them and gave a thankful smile to Astarion for his help in this task. After everything that they’d been through together, he was grateful that any of them were willing to indulge him in the way they were. It would have been so much easier to just reach the Absolute and detonate the orb, and yet they were willing to going to such extremes for him; now breaking and entering a magically enforced vault. He followed them and carefully closed the door behind him, ignoring the prickling of the weave that brought goosebumps to his arms.

---

She could not believe her own eyes as the young girl turned back to Rolan, missing the opportunity to exit the portal and run into Gale. Fate again had gone against Mystra’s will. The goddess of magic herself, again being made a fool of in her own domain. She clicked her fingers, allowing the spark of magic to flicker in her eyes, a volcano erupting in a distant area of Faerûn. As she took a deep breath, she fought against the rising fury and concentrated on finding Elminster, quietly issuing her commands to him. She had not wanted to do this; she had wanted to remain an observer, but now it was becoming too late. Speaking to Gale herself would be her only option.

---

Lúthien ran out ahead of you from the portal, her hand held out in front of her with the small black coin. She paused, looking at the metal door which stood closed nearby, and then shook her head like she was being bothered by a tiny insect.

Asking her if everything was okay was met with a nod before she hopped down the stairs one by one and you glanced at the door before following her, ignoring the familiar warmth that brought goosebumps to your arms.

---

His insane laughter could be heard far and wide as the tiefling called for the child, handing her the soul coin and distracting her for just enough time for Gale to leave the upper floor of Sorcerous Sundries. Oh, how he enjoyed this game, with no purpose other than to stand in Mystra’s way.

“Three petty thieves standing in a row; one chose sword, another chose bow. One petty thief with magic in her eyes; fell and chose love, which then brought lies.”  

He cackled as a volcano erupted, knowing that the eyes of the other gods would be drawn to her. Was the Lady of Magic losing her touch? Was it time for someone else to step in and take up the mantle? All this frustration over a simple mortal brought him such glee, and he stood from his throne; his arm held out in front of him to the nothingness of the chambers. His audience of trophies watched over him as he saw himself as the lord of his own manor; everything there, a witness to his magnificence.

He spoke with a faux chivalry in his tone. “Mystra, my dear. May I have this dance?”

“Never. For my heart belongs to another!” A high-pitched voice came from his lips, a mockery of the goddess.

He lowered his arm, his delight turning to anger, and the flames of his eyes burnt brighter with the rage. “You dare to choose someone else when I am here!?” His voice rose into a yell, and he hit out aggressively before falling forward onto the naked cobblestones beneath him.

Growling a little tune, he slowly got back up to his feet before returning to his throne, a creation to seat his own madness.

“Three petty thieves living in the sky; one chose magic, the other to die. One petty thief with madness in his eyes; born into chaos, cursed only with lies.” 

[sleepy-penmarks]

i coax myself into the greens of march where everything grows new and when that doesn’t work i turn to september where it all dies in red

but i can’t deny my birth in the blues of january.

i resented this color, at first. it’s all stained, it’s worn out – it’s too old and has been around too long. the past is carried with me on the  shoulders of each worn-out, navy sweater, even the ones that are brand new.  the fog persists in my mind like it never stopped raining. memories i want to let go are woven in each cloud.

blue was a vintage phone, too old to hold onto, too worn to even ring in tune. not even the rust on it could mean something – and yet i couldn’t let it go. i tried taking deep breaths, counting to five but no matter the color of the kelp or the first that swam by, i was submerged. 

so i tried being something different.

when i left my hometown i walked ‘round the calendar months, trying on new hues. i spread myself thin like post-climate-change snow and waited for something new to happen. the blue that i knew — the blue that i was — was too stained. i had to get away from it.

and yet, after each night, i awoke, and the sun would rise again. i’d squint  and it would glare right back, the sky the same blue as it was in january, i looked out the window and knew – 

blue has always been my color. it would coat me, back home, in the notebooks my mom and i chose for middle school, the themes of my poorly-managed writing blogs, even the hair dye i wanted when i was fourteen. (it was probably good that i didn’t use that).

even before i was born, my dad spent hours in a buy-buy-baby parking lot, shivering and  fumbling with my booster seat. and when i came, my lolo and lola stared at  blue sky, blue sea, flying in a plane that  couldn’t move fast enough. my tita drove through  blue road signs, armed with pots of warm rice and  ulam to take to my mom in the hospital.

blue holds my past, but not all of it is cold. there are stories hidden in the cracked hands that built my days — and there are people waiting for me to come home. me and all my blue.

i am myself – i am helplessly myself – i am still myself — 

i am still here because even in january when the sky turns to rust the sun still rises

my canvas remembers every mark and my page every word my fabric remembers every stain  i come with the same-old warning labels, the same wash instructions, as i always have – for better and for worse

i am the same january girl – the ulam’s still warm, the planes still touch down safely, the seatbelts still click into place, and i am afloat, in the inks that stain and decorate me. i watch my chapters unfold, and the world calls for me on a phone that rings in tune.

[childotkw]

Jordan, plz we need another part of the regulus saves izuna au

Also how far did the rumors about regulus really reach?? Was he infamous in a matter of days or did they have to do enough searching to find him???

I'd say he arrives about six months before the fated Izuna-getting-fatally-stabbed battle, which is plenty of time for him to arrive, adjust, start his little habit of magically healing people, and gaining a reputation. Madara had already heard rumours of a guy apparently able to heal even some of the worst wounds, so he immediately sets out to find him once they realise Izuna ain't gonna be coming back from this one. Hence the kidnapping! Lucky for him, Regulus has a weakness for brothers 😉

Most of the surrounding ninja clans in the Land of Fire would probably know about him by that point. They do deal in information after all, and someone who can heal as well as he can would be a hot topic. Some might have even gotten help from him, but he exists in this weird off-limits / no-man's-land space because he's a civilian, unaffliated with any clan, and isn't interested in being affiliated with any of them. They...don't really know what to do with him, to be honest.

But after he heals Izuna, the Uchiha are basically trying to claim him, and it kicks up a lot of interest (and protest - mainly from Regulus himself 😂)

--- -- --- -- --- -- ---

"Oh, that's not right," Regulus muttered under his breath.

It had Madara straightening immediately from where he was slumped against the wall, the crack in his spine almost audible. Between one blink and the next, the man was beside him - and if Regulus were not already used to how fast these bastards could move, he might have jumped.

Which would have been a pity since he was wrist deep in someone's chest cavity at the moment.

"What is it?" Madara asked, low and rough from the hours he had spent in here without a break. Regulus could feel his own thirst, a burn that pulsed in time with his heartbeat and made his whole throat feel swollen.

"There's something in his wound," Regulus said, frowning a little deeper as he again felt that oily sliver brush against his magic before ducking away. "It's not...shrapnel or anything like that, but it's definitely responsible for the infection being as difficult to curb as it is."

"Poison?" Madara hissed, his eyes narrowing suspiciously, and Regulus might not be able to sense their chakra well but he could feel the weight spreading over the room like an uncomfortably hot blanket.

He clicked his tongue.

"Stop that," he snapped, feeling his headache grow. "And no, it's not poison. My mag - any foreign substances would have already been purged during my initial work. This thing...whatever it is, it's aware." He looked up at the other man. "It's sentient."

"So it's a parasite?" Madara suggested, mouth twisting with confusion.

"I don't know what it is," Regulus said, shaking his head. His hair, drenched in sweat from how long he had been healing, clung to his forehead and neck. "But it keeps slipping through my senses. It's hiding, trying to burrow deeper inside him to avoid me. But I can feel it. It's like ink - slick and disgusting. Whatever this thing is, it does not want me to heal your brother."

And like most older brothers would, like Sirius would if this had been Regulus, Madara's shoulders went back and his expression darkened with protective fury.

"Can you get it out?"

Regulus looked back down at where his hand was sunk into Izuna like he had dipped his hand through the surface of water, the spell he had cast the only thing making this possible. His mind raced, trying to recall something, anything, that might let him draw this toxic shard out of his patient.

"Maybe," he answered. "Though it won't be easy for him to endure."

Whatever manner of foulness polluted Izuna was strong. It was sucking the life right out of the younger man, draining his energy and keeping him on the precipice of death in a way that was unnatural. A lot like a curse, it feasted on him.

It was only Regulus' magic at this point that was keeping Izuna alive.

"Do it," Madara ordered.

[jo-harrington]

loch ness monster pls

Mouse. Good morning. Happy Monday. You are...the love of my life and for that I bring you a little gift of angst...I'm sorry...

TW: Difficult relationships with families on both Eddie and the little Knight's part

Haven't ready Heaven yet? Find it here.

And find the Master List for As Above, So Below here.

Christmas Eve 1984

He hadn't meant to do it.

He was only trying to help.

You'd been working as many shifts as you could get your hands on at Bradley's. Tim, the manager, approved overtime for everyone and you jumped at the chance. Eddie couldn't blame you; Wayne did the same thing at the plant and, if he had a job, he probably would too.

You had your little date nights planned throughout the month, but aside from that...you both agreed that Christmas wouldn't be anything special.

Wayne was working, like he did most holidays, but the grocery store would be closed after 5pm. That meant the two of you would post up on your couch, watch It's a Wonderful Life, and eat a shit ton of Bagel Bites until one of you (probably Eddie) puked.

And then tomorrow you’d drive across town to spend the morning with Wayne after he came home from work before doing it all over again.

It was the perfect Christmas.

The simple act of luxuriating in the indulgent laziness of a holiday without actually celebrating anything. Because Christmas was not just a time of festivities and joy; it was a reminder of everything you didn't have.

Eddie had a key to your place, so he figured he would get everything started while you wrapped up your shift.

He just wanted to surprise you.

Wanted to make you smile.

It was the least he could do.

As he unlocked the door, he noticed your mailbox was stuffed. Overflowing with letters and envelopes.

He shuffled the handful of plastic bags filled with gas station treats into one hand as he emptied the box with the other. And right as he thought he had a hold on everything, one letter--a postcard--fluttered to the floor.

"Fuck," Eddie hissed, and decided he was better off running everything upstairs and then coming back for it, than trying to grab it and drop everything.

Truthfully, he forgot about it for a minute. Got too distracted.

Your cozy little apartment above the deli was a mess. You didn't really have a lot--it's why you always insisted that nights in were spent at the trailer, it felt more like a home--but what you did have was in disarray. So he tidied it a little, did the ol' Munson 5 Minute Clean Up. Dishes out of the drying rack and into the cupboard, wrappers and random bits of paper into the garbage, half folded laundry in the basket shoved into drawers.

He got the snacks all set up on your little coffee table, grabbed pillows and a quilt from your bed to set up a nice little nest for the two of you on the couch. He turned your shitty second-hand television on to NBC so it would be all ready when you got home.

And just as Eddie slid the trays of Bagel Bites, he remembered the postcard.

The intention was to run down, grab it, and then toss it into the pile with the rest of the bills and flyers and holiday cards from neighbors around town.

But the colorful picture was too enticing not to take a closer look.

Beautiful, cool watercolors. A large and imposing draconic figure gliding through, each scale inked in detail. Block letters spelling "Greetings from Loch Ness."

Eddie, curious, turned the card over and looked at the handful of stamps, all unfamiliar and from various countries, that overlapped each other in the corner. Your name and address were practically carved into the cardboard, the sender's hand obviously too heavy with anger or stress or regret.

And on the opposite side...

Merry Christmas. From, Dad.

He was suddenly overcome with the feeling that he made a mistake.

It was the one line he had yet to cross with you.

Eddie could talk about his family until he was blue in the face. His anger towards his dad that he used humor to cope with. The hole in his heart that formed when his mother died. His unending gratitude and respect for his Uncle. The worry he felt and the responsibility he had towards Rick, a man who couldn't claim him by name or by blood, but still did his best.

But you?

He knew you had an elderly grandma who lived in Chicago; you lived with her right up until you left. You...had a mother. And your father...forbid you from dropping out of school and you did so anyway.

Now he was sending you a postcard from Scotland. Carried with him all over Europe, it seemed, if the stamps were any indicator.

Eddie was a typical, hyperactive young adult who considered himself in love with you. And because of that, he wanted to know everything about you, just as you were eager to learn everything you could about him. It was a mutual agreement not to push one another...

But you'd been together for months...

Suddenly the doorknob jiggled and Eddie jumped. He fumbled to look casual since he knew he was nowhere near athletic enough to make it up the stairs and into the apartment before someone walked in.

It was his luck, or lack thereof, that you walked in.

Your weary eyes brightened when you saw him--it took you a second to realize why he was there but it wasn’t the first time he had done something like this--and then they immediately darted down to the postcard in his hands.

You scrunched your nose and reached a gloved hand out to take it from him. There was enough force in it that Eddie immediately thought it was annoyance directed at him.

You flipped the postcard over once, twice, and then you folded it in half and tucked it into the pocket of your coat.

You opened your mouth to say something and his heart practically stopped in his chest. He thought you might yell, tell him that he was invading your privacy, that he should just go home. Instead you shook your head and stepped closer to engulf him in a hug.

He asked you about your day, you asked if he had done any of the homework that had been assigned over holiday break.

It was warm, it was familiar, it was everything he wanted--to be fully consumed with each other--if only it wasn't for...

"Don’t worry about it,” you muttered into the fabric of his shirt, face still squished against him. “It’s just a postcard.”

Eddie could only assume that you felt the turmoil within him and felt the need to soothe it.

He wondered whether those words brought you any comfort at all.

Hours later, as the two of you tidied the mess away before going to bed, he saw the postcard in the trash. Ripped to bits. The beautiful watercolor eyes of the Loch Ness monster staring up at him woefully.

And he knew that the answer was no.

[amadeusgame]

This month I've... accomplished a lot. It's difficult to communicate just how much, because a lot of the work is the kind that isn't exciting to talk about and doesn't look like much... but it is a lot, and it needed to get done. The narrative work I did this month in particular has helped me prepare to finish the full 5-episode saga, not just a new demo or the first episode.

Speaking of the new demo. I originally planned to release it by the end of this year, but it's looking like that was optimistic, considering how much I'm adding from the original demo. New goal is to have it ready for private playtesting by the end of this year, and released publicly early in 2024. Next month I'll confirm if we're still on track for that!

If you'd like sooner updates, or are interested in playtesting, you are welcome to join the Discord server.

Other resources here, including the new website. Now to the devlog!

Highlights for this month:

Updated Mechanics Implemented: I have built a test scene to triage the new mechanics I've built, and functionality is now at the point where I can start rebuilding the demo with them. I am working with playtesters to identify and iron out bugs as I do so.

Finalized Narrative + Art Direction: I have determined which art assets will be inked, and which will remain in pencil. Part of this decision involved making a lot of overarching narrative and thematic details concrete, so while I don't have much to show for it at the moment, it will really pay off when the later episodes release.

Project Management: I now have a part-time job (unrelated to games), and have spent this past month re-learning how to manage my time and keep on track while also getting enough rest. Brief discussion of navigating this adjustment as a solo dev.

Marketing: This month, I really started thinking more about the kind of marketing *I* appreciate as an audience. I've shared social media posts from other indie dev projects - what is it about those posts that communicated to me I would like the games?

Recreation: media I engaged with this month!

Details below.

Updated Mechanics Implemented

I've made improvements, changes, and additions to several core mechanics so that they are flexible enough for me to build a complete game. This has been very complicated because most of the code I wrote for the old demo was very, very limited, and was held together with duct tape that could just barely handle what I built for the demo, and nothing beyond that. So my mission has been to purge the spaghetti and make my scripts able to actually do what I need them to for a more complete game.

It's very easy to get lost on where to start when approaching something like that, so I want to share an approach that really helped me: writing out the intended functionality in just English as comments first, and THEN figuring out how to script it. It's a way of "sketching" code to break down how it will work before getting into the weeds of proper syntax and functionality.

Some specifics on overhauled mechanics:

Movement - movement scripts can now handle things like an obstacle in the middle of the "walkable" area of the screen. There is polish to do but the core functionality is there and easier to iterate on. I've also added some tweaks that make it "smarter" about handling whether you're currently using point-and-click or WASD inputs.

Screen Transitions - this mechanic is MUCH more generalized now. It can handle as many entry/exit points from a screen as needed, so scene layouts can be much more varied. A downtown screen with multiple alleys each leading to different screens is possible now.

Point-and-Click - I made a lot of changes to the point-and-click movement scheme, many of which involved learning how coroutines work; unfortunately, it's still pretty buggy and rough-feeling. I think I made a mistake by trying to make my control scheme support two completely different types of inputs, because it has resulted in two half-polished movement schemes instead of one relatively polished one. However... I cannot bring myself to axe the point-and-click movement scheme, despite WASD currently being more reliable. So I'm going to move forward with the hybrid, and workshop it as I rebuild the demo. The good news is it is at the point where I can safely implement it without breaking anything (hopefully) while I continue to iterate on it. The better news is, even if it's unpolished, I think it makes the game feel very unique.

Menus - I figured out how to track "layering" the two menus (backlog, and settings screen) so it properly handles freezing/unfreezing movement if you open one on top of the other, and I made the placeholder menus/UI nicer looking. Also added audio volume controls.

Virtually everything in this image is just a placeholder, but it's a placeholder that feels much better than what I had before. Sketching this out on paper gave me a template to start building on.

I will be utilizing the "notebook" as a shortcut to view the text backlog, as well:

I have more work to do formatting the backlog, but it works, and a scroll-bar is automatically added once it exceeds the height of the backlog window.

Thanks to building this test scene, I've got all of my test scripts to a place where I feel confident rebuilding the demo with the new mechanics. There's a lot that needs to be tweaked and changed, but it's finally at the point where it feels like replacing the existing demo with the new mechanics is pretty much a clear upgrade. So I'm excited to get started on that!

Finalized Narrative + Art Direction

In October's devlog, I wrote that determining precisely which assets will be inked and which will remain in pencil was probably this month's most important project. I debated going with a practical approach (such as "ink all assets of this type: talk sprite, interactible, etc") - but I quickly realized that I would have more fun doing something cool with it instead. This turned it from an art direction problem to a narrative problem, which forced me to answer a LOT of questions for myself that I had been putting off until later, because most of these questions will not be unveiled within the scope of Episode 1. They weren't strictly needed to finish just Episode 1 originally; but they would be if Episode 1 were to include an art direction decision that is related to very late-game concepts.

The drawback to this is it took up a lot of time and energy that could have been spent focusing on Episode 1 and finishing the new demo faster and getting a release faster.

The (huge, in my opinion) benefit to this is that Episode 1 is going to be much more effective now, as there are so many things I can set up early on because I already know precisely where I'm going with them. I also just feel more prepared to continue this momentum over the next several years and write the entire narrative, not just the first segment of it. I think the overall experience will be better and more convincing, and that this was an effective use of my time.

I fully expect some things to evolve as I make the other episodes - my experience just in creating the demo has been that some parts of the game truly do write themselves - but I still think this was a very good use of my time this month. It's going to drive me nuts keeping everything I'm planning under wraps for the years until the reveals come, though.

(Which leads me to another very important thing I did this month: called a friend and spoiled literally everything I've been planning to them. I was drawing spoilery fanart of very late-game reveals and needed SOMEONE to spill all of the beans to. The friend in question is an author so they also acted as a very useful brainstorming/sounding board for certain themes I still wasn't sure where to go with... anyway, I cannot recommend this enough. Having just One Dedicated Spoiler Friend has been invaluable.)

Since I spent so much time on the brainstorming part of this, I don't have much to show for it at the moment. I've started inking some more assets, though. Here's Solea (not yet scanned/colored):

Project Management

If you don't read anything else in this section, take away the following: I now have part-time work to offer financial stability and life experience. My real job is developing Amadeus.

Adjusting to being outside of school was difficult, and adjusting to now having a part-time job has also been difficult. However, I am really lucky in that this job is pretty much perfect - it's completely unrelated to games (so ALL of my games and artistic energy can go to Amadeus, not to work), it's part time (so I have much more time to dedicate to Amadeus than I would if I was working full-time), and I like the people there. Thanks to this, I don't have to stress about my financials or a fruitless job hunt, and can focus all of my remaining time and energy to my own projects.

However, having limited free time - even if it's more than I would have if I worked full-time - means project management is even more essential than it was before. It's not just a matter of giving myself deadlines so I get things done, it's a matter of understanding what tasks I can actually accomplish on a given day/week without burning myself out. I find that inking assets is something I am willing to do a little at a time, in bed, before I sleep. Coding is something I'm more than happy to do on lunchbreaks and on my commute. Music composition, however, requires a solid 2-hour block of sitting at my desk with no distractions, and a completely free day afterwards just in case I hit a groove and happen to bang out an entire piece in one afternoon. Learning to work with my own tendencies and not against them is essential to actually getting things done.

One more benefit of my new job is I've learned how to use project management software in a way that works for me to remind myself of what needs doing (especially regular upkeep tasks), in addition to special projects. I've started using it outside of work (on an unrelated, personal account! For the record! Asana is free for small teams!!) to manage Amadeus tasks, and I have to say it has been a game changer. It's really getting me to stay on top of everything that needs doing. I got the advice from several indie devs at SIX to use project management software, and wouldn't you know it, they were right. The folks who actually get enough stuff done to have a demo at SIX know what it takes to get your game made! Who knew??

Marketing

I've been paying more attention to what other indie devs do to advertise their own work. Many aspects of "successful" posts are beyond my control - whether something reaches a wide audience or not depends on too many factors to stress over. So I have decided to focus on what I can control: if the post reaches someone who might like this game, how do I show them that they might like this game?

For the past couple weeks, I've picked a game whose marketing posts I willingly shared on social media because I was excited about the game. I retweeted Small Saga's trailer advertising its upcoming release last week - why? Well, because I watched their trailer video and found it appealing. Why did I watch the video? I don't watch every video on my twitter feed! But something about the trailer footage reminded me of Final Fantasy IX, one of my favorite video games ever made. What, specifically? The character designs and town designs evoked that feeling for me. Then I unmuted the video and really liked the track that was playing, and I decided I wanted to share this.

As a musician, it pains me to say that the music was not remotely close to my first priority when determining whether to share this post. It was a deciding factor, but one that did not come into play until after the visuals had captivated me. The visuals showed me "this game feels like Final Fantasy IX," and that is the hook that got me to stick around for the rest. The trailer succeeded in convincing me, as someone who might like the game, that I might like it. And it did so by letting the game speak for itself. The fact that the font in the trailer matched the aesthetic of the game footage was also a nice bonus.

So last week, I put together a post with a video that was supposed to communicate: "if you like Umineko When They Cry, you might like Amadeus." The same way Small Saga communicated "if you like Final Fantasy IX, you might like Small Saga." I included more of the pure text-based visual novel scenes in this trailer than usual, because Amadeus is turning into more and more of a visual novel the more I flesh out the narrative. I don't know if this accomplished what I hoped it would, but the process of making it taught me a lot.

A couple weeks before this, I based my post off of Cavern of Dreams marketing on Tumblr. Cavern of Dreams appealed to me because its posts told me exactly who it was for: it was for people with a nostalgic love for N64-era platformers. Who is Amadeus for? Well, since I was deep in revamping the point-and-click controls to also allow point-and-spacebar for wrist ease, I made a trailer advertising this accessible input scheme.

I don't pretend to be very good at marketing still, but I've learned a lot just from seeing what other people have done that clicked with me. Marketing, as an indie dev, is really about communication. It's about showing people the heart of what you're making, in a way that lets people who share the same interests find it and enjoy it.

Recreation

3 games to shout out that I played this month:

Burly Men At Sea - an excellent reference for a game with a simple style and focused concept that is really appealing and polished. It's fun, silly, cute, and does what it wants to do extremely well. It's... effectively the opposite of what I am making, which is a game that is scrappy, overly ambitious, and all over the place. But that's okay! It's very grounding to play a game that features strengths completely the opposite of my own.

Once by Moonlight - a short werewolf visual novel here on itch. I don't pretend to think I am the first person to write a visual novel about a werewolf, so I wanted to look at someone else's take on it. I recommend it if you have a couple hours to spare. I took about a page of notes while playing it for my own reference, as both a dev and a storyteller, so you know it's solid!

Tsukihime - I only just started this, but it was a recommendation from a friend after I asked for a VN recommendation that was long enough to binge and go insane over, and preferably had vampires or werewolves. I am certain this will show up under "Recreation" for next month as well, because I can already tell this is going to give me a lot of ideas and influence Amadeus in ways that are yet to be determined. While I myself am not writing a horny visual novel, I also feel it's important to acknowledge that horny visual novels are the backbone and history of the whole genre, so why not play the super iconic one about vampires?

That's a wrap for this month! Next month, my goal is to be able to sum up my entire devlog with "the demo is remade and in private playtesting." Fingers crossed I can hold myself to it. Stay tuned!

[captainreverie]

Discovering that my last post was the start of June has really blown my mind.

I've spent the last few months dealing with poor health which is now a lot better and have actually fufilled a dream of mine which is to have my own studio space! As my roomie and I finally rent a townhouse and not an apartment I have been able to set up a corner of the garage for myself! And the cat can't get me there and stand on everything hooray!

As result, I have spent a fair amount of time playing with new and old mediums and being focussed mainly on study as opposed to fanart. Making mess with charcoal, pastels both pencil and oil and after many years of debate I finally decided to try oil paint (and it's the shit omg)

I've done barely any digital, namely because a computer update cost me my copy of Photoshop CS6 and all my settings. I have found CC extremely frustrating to use.

I also forgot Inktober for the first time in years until about a week in. I hadn't been making art for a month by that point so it completely slipped my notice. My mates ended up setting up a RPG which ignited the inspiration again so I ended up working on a prologue comic for my PC which I chose to do in ink. Session 0 and the start of the game has revealed her to essentially be female pirate Mavik which i'm naturally loving.

Anyway I'm playing OoT again while waiting desperately for Baldur's Gate to come out on xbox, so will probably be hanging out on the Forgotten War blog.

Cheers guys! 💕

[sirhyst]

Poe x gn!reader

Reader shows Poe their written piece after months of not writing.

Pronouns used: none

Note: reader is also an artist but has not done written work in awhile. I wanted to do one where the reader is more flirty with Poe but considering the prompt, I’ll keep it simple. I didn’t want to assume what type of art anyone did so just insert whatever type of art you do. Also I’m glad people are enjoying the dad!fukuzawa x child!reader stories 😭

———————————————————————

You and Edgar were both artists. He specialising in writing and you in (art specialty). It had been months since you last attempted to write something and for some reason you felt compelled to try picking up the lone ink pen Edgar left in your shared bedroom.

Something simple, you thought to yourself. To say the time you spent writing flew by was an understatement. Of course you ended up with a short story, but good enough since you partially broke ties with your pen and paper.

You walked towards Edgar’s office door, nervous to show him what you had been working in the past few hours.

Poe sat at his desk, scribbling away whilst mumbling words to add to his current piece. He hadn’t realised that Karl had leapt from his position on his shoulders until he heard scratching at his door.

“Not now Karl,” Poe said with a small smile, “I promise I’ll take you outside in a second.” Karl huffed before continuing to scratch at the large wooden door. Having had enough, Poe glided towards the door opening it to find you there.

You had your back to the door, seeming to be deep in thought whilst holding a few sheets of paper to your chest.

“My river,” Edgar said, nearly making you jump three feet in the air.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” you did looking him in, what you hoped were his eyes, shielded by his brown hair. You outstretched your hand to grab his.

“I tried writing again, and I,” you paused suddenly feeling intimidated by the poet I front of you.

“I was hoping you would read it?” Edgar blushed, he felt honoured by the gesture. He nodded leading you back to his desk. As soon as you sat down, Karl made himself comfortable on your shoulders.

“Let me see,” Edgar held out his hands. You were about to hand him your work, before you quickly retracted the papers.

“If you don’t like it, please don’t tell me,” you said, lowering your head. Edgar placed his hand on his heart making a silent vow. You almost relinquished your papers, when you felt the urge to pull back again. This carries on before you finally gave in, immediately covering your face as it heated up.

The story it self took five minutes to read, but for you it felt like hours, especially since Poe didn’t say a word.

You turned to face him when you heard the papers gently land against the wooden surface.

“That was lovely, I can tell you have the same writing traits as you did since you last wrote something,” he said looking down at his hands.

It was a minor compliment but coming from him, it meant a lot.

Poe’s face grew redder by the second upon seeing the slight curve of your lips at his words.

“Maybe we can write together more,” you said, almost as if you were asking a question. He nodded in response, unable to use his words from how content he was.

You shifted closer to him, slowly inching your arms around his shoulders, before gently pulling him into a hug.

[andromedaexists]

WUPDATE: CALL ME ICARUS

𝚆𝚎𝚍𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚍𝚊𝚢, 𝙹𝚞𝚕𝚢 𝟷𝟿𝚝𝚑 || 𝙲𝚊𝚖𝚙 𝙽𝚊𝙽𝚘

y'all i am so busy rn that i forgot to keep yous updated on my progress. moving forward i am going to try and be more present here, i am going to work my way through my backlog of tag games this weekend and queue up all the writing yous tagged me in.

this month is camp nano and it has kept my mighty busy. here is a list of things that has happened this month:

finished the prologue and chapters 1-10. i got them up for betas to read (if you'd like to beta for CMI, the form is still open to apply here)

got in contact with an artist and started the process of commissioning them for a cover (they just sent me the concept sketch and im!!!!!)

set an official publication date (announcement coming soon 👀👀👀)

submitted a query! (and realized that i don't want to trad pub so i'm self pubbing instead!)

started talking to formatting editors. i'm not sure if i'll be able to afford a good formatting review before publication, but i am in talks with someone who will let me use their Vellum!

started research on how to self pub/what company i want to go through (and actually set up a channel where i can dump my research once i compile it!)

cried a lot over this whole process. a lot.

so yeah! a lot has happened! a lot of good stuff, but a lot of stressful stuff as well! that's okay though, i'm just over the moon that i have an official pub date 🥰

i'm going to push through to the end of camp nano, but i am going to try and get back into weekly wupdates and just talking about writing a lot more. i was a little hesitant about joining camp nano given how bad regular nano went for me last year, but a new server i joined has really helped me find my love of writing again (thank you doom and clanky and so many others that i met through the bird app, i love you all)

anyways, enough rambling. let's get to what you guys are really here for: snippets! i am going to add a couple here (read, a snippet for each chapter i've missed updating here) to make up for my relative silence as of late:

Chapter 5:

There are two more encounters listed below it, but before Icarus can read them over he is distracted by a flash of gold entering the shop. His eyes shoot up, latching to the new patron standing in line with their back to him. It’s normal for bright colors and movement to grab his attention, but this time something feels different. He can’t put his thumb on it, but his brain is telling him that he should recognize them. It’s screaming that he should know who they are. But for the life of him, he cannot make out who it is. Whomst? The fuck? From this distance, he can’t see anything that might tell him who they are. Their plain black clothes could be the tell of an Elysian, but that isn’t a guarantee. The only truly identifiable trait is the halo of blond curls cascading over their shoulders. Why do I feel like I know them?

Chapter 6:

Ariadne whistles, a long and appreciative sound as she sees her husband’s work. The tattoo had been a beast to heal, but the hours of torturous pain and restless nights of endless itching had been well worth it. He spent days ogling the tattoo after it had first healed, the feathers look so real that you can almost feel them when running your hands over the inked skin. It is everything he wanted and then some. A feather-light touch runs down the etched skin. There is only one person who had ever touched him with that kind of reverence, his artist must have gotten up to inspect the tattoo. He is admiring his art—as he should—when he says, “Looks like you should have used more lotion.” He lets go of one edge of the hoodie to flip him the bird. It’s impossible to hide anything from his artist, of course, and he knew that his lackluster care would be noted. There are likely small splotches where the ink had fallen out due to his poor moisturizing regiment, but it’s not like he has much of a choice in that. Icarus drops the back of his hoodie with a sigh as he turns to face the artist again. YOU KNOW? HARD REACH AREA ALONE. His eyebrows raise as he speaks, his signs becoming large and boisterous. He then mimes trying to reach the middle of his back. That gets a chortle out of his artist and Ariadne. He hadn’t thought to consider how he would need to reach every part of his back before getting the tattoo, and the fact that he doesn’t have anyone in his life to help him makes it that much worse.

Chapter 7:

“Look,” Andromeda levels at him, voice growing in intensity as they say, “I understand that you don’t quite trust me yet. I mean, we just met yesterday. Hell, I don’t even know your name yet! But-” “Icarus.” He grabs the hoodie on the left and pulls it over his head. He takes a moment to pull his hair up and fasten it in a ponytail before turning and leaning back against the closet door. “My name is Icarus.” “Okay. Icarus. Y’know, that fits.” Their voice is calmer, quieter, as if that piece of information is enough to placate them. Icarus huffs. The name really does fit him, doesn’t it? Always jumping into things without thinking of the consequences, taking risks, and keeping shit close to his chest until he gets a bit too close to hubris and starts to fall apart. Falling in love with the sun personified. Burning, falling, crashing, drowning. Yeah, the name fits him. The only difference between him and the Icarus of myth is that he died at the end of his story. Icarus has no plans of dying. No, he plans of making it out the other end of his story and living to tell the tale.

Chapter 8:

“I thought the whole ‘Oh, Hestia has a pizza shop?’ ordeal would tell you that I have no idea where to go.” Huh, yeah, that should have clicked with him. It’s not like they could search up directions, they likely don’t have a phone just the same as him. Can’t risk having a way for someone to use GPS to locate him. It’s not like he has anyone to keep in contact with, anyways. “It’s just down the street. Go out the front of the building and head down West Saint Clair, it’s just past fourth street. I’d say can’t miss it but you very much could, there’s no sign out front. It’s the only building that looks like there’s someone living in it on that block, though.” “Got it. West Saint Clair, Fourth Street, not-abandoned building.” Andromeda repeats the directions to themself as they head towards the front door. “Anything else while I’m out?”

Chapter 9:

How could he forget? “Καιρὸς δε, Thanatos,” he mumbles as he stretches his arms out in front of him and rests his forehead on the blissfully cool counter. “And here I was thinking you weren’t gonna remember me.” Long gone is the shrill and timid voice of a sickly kid, replaced by one of the most soothing and deep tones Icarus had ever heard. “…Fair ‘nuff.” The vibrations of a glass hitting the counter top make Icarus look up. A glass of water, just water. He groans, that is not what he wants right now. He’s craving the sweet buzz of an energy drink, but that will require him to get up and walk around the island to grab one. Andromeda chuckles, not moving an inch as they watch Icarus suffer over the glass. “Quit pouting and drink.” He drops his head, turning his face away from the glass. “Oh come on, you big baby. Deja de hacer un berrinche y bebe.” They poke his cheek as he pouts. “Mira, food’s ready. Sit up and eat.”

Chapter 10:

“Why are we running?” they ask, gasping for air after the impromptu sprint. Icarus points to the bird as it hops along the ridge of the tent. He turns to watch their reaction, this is a big deal. Their eyes widen and their jaw drops open, they are just as shocked as he is. His smile has not left, though it dulls as their face drops to sadness and grim acceptance. What? “A crow.” Before he can say anything the look is gone. They beam a bright smile at him. “I can’t believe you found a bird! That’s definitely good luck for us.” But it’s not, their reaction sits wrong with him. He squints his eyes, watches them to see if that glimpse of despair will surface again. When it doesn’t, Icarus forces a smile on his face. If they don’t want to talk about it then he isn’t going to talk about it.

Okay, i think that's enough of a writing dump for now. here's the CMI Taglist:

@flowerprose @isherwoodj @cream-and-tea @touchingmadness @lockejhaven @marinesocks @wildswrites @the-finch-address @writingpotato07-deactivated2023 @leighvalentin @inkspellangel @cljordan-imperium @outpost51 @alleahgrinnon @smol-feralgremlin

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