#I've wanted to know how those kind of paintings feel for a long time too so I might have to try the same thing!

[blarshwritezz]

This one was inspired by this post by @suiana <3

Yandere Beauty x Beast Reader

M yan x GN reader

TW - obsessive behavior, mass murder, maybe mild stalking(?), people are meanies

You've grown so tired of this life, but it was all you knew. You've been trapped like this for years with nothing but your own rage to accompany you. Many of the once priceless paintings in your palace were now destroyed. It didn't matter. No one remembered this place. No one remembered you.

And it would stay that way until you die.

Every now and then some adventurers or travellers would find your palace, hoping for a place to stay the night, only to run away in fear. They'd rather take their chances with the wolves than with such a terrifying beast.

You expected another one of those interactions when you heard a knock at the doors. Some didn't even have that much decency. You weren't expecting such a beautiful man to he the one at your door. Nor were you expecting him to get down on one knee and ask to be your husband.

"You are the most stunning creature I've ever seen...please, allow me the honor of marrying you!" Of all things, did he have to call you a creature? You were technically a person! At least, you were a long time ago.

Not wanting to go through with whatever he could possibly be planning, you slammed the door in his face with a firm "No." He was probably trying to make a fool of you, or perhaps even kill you. Even though you hated this life, you didn't want to die. Not quite yet

How you wished that was the end of it.

He started sleeping outside the door of your palace, insisting on marriage if he ever saw you. Whether you we stepping out on the balcony, looking out a window, or tending to the garden he'd beg for your hand in marriage.

Even though his appearance became disheveled after the many days he spent outside your palace, he was still more beautiful than any woman you met as a human. Such a beautiful man surely had plenty of eligible bachelors and bachelorettes lined up at his own door, so why did he insist on a life with you? A life of solitude and silence. A life without a single friend. Even your servants were long gone. Broken mirrors, dusty furniture, spiders and bugs infesting the least visited corners, was that really a l8fe to beg for?

You finally got agitated at all his begging and pleading, of all the surely empty promises. As he followed you through your garden on day, you lost it. You turned back and gripped him firmly by the jaw, smooshing his rosy cheeks together as you demanded an explanation.

"You're amazing, your majesty! You're my greatest dream." He admit, a deep blush growing on his cheeks as your grip tightened. "I'll admit, I wasn't planning to propose, so I failed to bring you a proper ring. But I came out here, curious if the rumors were true...and the second I laid eyes on you, I was in love!"

It sounded more ignorant than you expected.

"I fell to my knees once I beheld you. You were too perfect for me to handle, and I knew it was a sign that I had to marry you!"

You really didn't know what to say. Was this guy all beauty and no brains? You didn't realize those kinds of people really existed.

You dropped him, firmly telling him to get lost and marry someone else. Someone better. But he instantly feel to his knees, gripping your legs and begging with tears in his eyes.

"Please! At least give me a chance, my love!" You never realized someone could be so pathetic.

You dragged him away. First you tried tossing him off the palace grounds, but he came crawling back. Then you dropped him half way through the forest. Again, he refused to leave your side. So you left him the last place you wanted to go.

You dragged him all the way back to the village, and instantly received the backlash you expected. You tossed him to the crowd, and they instantly took him. And as for you? They threw rocks, rotten food, and whatever else they could easily throw. The assault lasted until you were out of their sight.

At least now you could continue your days in peace.

Oh, you thought. You wished, you prayed. Your peace didn't even last a day.

That night, when you went out to you balcony to stare into the night, an unfamiliar sight caught your eye. The bright light of a fire. A large fire, consuming everything in its path. A horrible fire, turning the village to dust.

You gripped your balcony, crushing the metal of the railing. What were you to do? The villagers hated you. They loathed your very existence. They didn't remember you as you once were, only the beast you were today.

You were still supposed to be their ruler.

They were still your people.

You had to protect your people.

Without another second of hesitation you rushed out of your palace and through the forest. Only to find one person on the path there. The beautiful man you gave back to them earlier.

"I got rid of them for you, darling. Those barbarians didn't see how absolutely beautiful you are, and they can't keep us apart any more." He knealt down on one knee, pulling out a black box and revealing a stunning ring.

"Now let me do this properly...will you marry me?"

I WAS INSPIRED, OKAY? I know I have requests to get to 😭

[ask-the-pioneer]

"Hunter is my mentor. When I was found, hungry and scared, he brought me to his iterator's superstructure, and it became my new home. To my surprise, two other slugpups inhabited the premises already. Both of them got also, well, adopted by him. These scugs were just a little older than me, so I finally had friends to play with (and not feel so incredibly alone anymore)."

"In the following cycles, Hunter would venture out on «expeditions»... and would almost always come back with a new little friend. Our group grew over time, and we founded our own small colony. A bunch of kids and one adult is a valid colony, right? It felt right to be amongst my own kind, even if it was hard in the beginning. I did not know how to properly socialize, considering my troubled past. I had to learn a lot of things on the go."

"Before all that, during my time with the scavenger toll tribe, I would occasionally see other slugcats, too. But those scugs either gave us a wide berth, or the tribe would hide me away whenever someone crossed the toll. I think I was too much of a valuable asset to them, they didn't want me to get killed or kidnapped... but that also meant constant supervision, and little to no contact with the outside world. Of course, all that ended... when..."

[Marbles is visibly uncomfortable, but continues her story anyway]

"... uh, well... when they all died. Something got to them. At that time, I thought it was a big lizard, or even a vulture, but the claw marks were small... and, a predator would kill to eat, right? They would be eaten, and yet, they were all left there. Some with burned body parts, and wounds from explosives. The only logical explanaiton I can think of, is that another tribe wiped them out. But why would they do that? There were no warning signs, no previous skirmishes. I ran away as fast as I could - I was so sure I'd perish too if I lingered there for too long. That was the moment I escaped death for the second time..."

"Um, it's... fine? There weren't as many scavengers near NHS' structure anyway, and they stayed out our way. But here, all around Five Pebbles, there's so many of them... and so many pearls, too. It's a gold mine. I can't wait to see what I find or trade for here. I did notice though, the scavengers living in this area are more nervous and jumpy. They seem not to like strangers, be it scug, scav, or any other creature. I have to be more careful around them, sign slowly and clearly that I mean no harm."

[Her ear flicks and she turns her head around, staring into the distance for a moment, before turning it back]

"Another curious thing I've noticed, are those big scavengers roaming around in groups of three or four. They wield sparkling spears and don painted vulture masks. A scary sight to behold... makes me wonder if those are warriors from the aforementioned Metropolis? I want to go there, but I'm a little scared now..."

[luveline]

Hello! I just want to start off by saying you're an absolutely amazing writer! I've been reading your blog for two years now, I believe, or something very close to it, and I still find myself awestruck by your talent when I check your blog, which is pretty much daily!

If you're up for the prompt and if you're not too swamped with requests, could I ask for a blurb with bombshell reader x Spencer? Maybe reader makes him something really sincere and handmade? Maybe a baked good or a knitted sweater? No special occasion needed, just because he deserves it 😋

Thank you for sharing your works with us! Be well and remember to take breaks! Love you Jade!!

Thank you my love, that is so kind! Love you♡

You feel sleek walking into the office that morning. Fitted clothes steamed and pressed, hair freshly upkept at the salon the previous weekend, nails manicured, smile primly painted, you look perfect. 

But that's not what you're excited about. 

Spencer lounges cross-legged at his desk, a book in his lap, surprisingly broad shoulders hunched as he reads at a more natural pace than usual. His desk is cluttered in organised chaos, books lining the partition that separate his desk from Derek's and Emily's, strange knickknacks scattered. There's a bunch of bright squishy things from Penelope, an upside down umbrella statue lined with hair elastics, and, cutest of all, his two photo frames. One of him holding baby Henry, and one of you. You and him, of course, but mostly you in the frame, closer, smiling like you love him as you angle the camera back in a well meaning and misaligned self portrait. 

You do love him. He hasn't caught on yet, is all. 

"Spencer," you greet, hoping he won't jump. He flinches minutely and lifts his head to yours, closing the book against his hand. "Sorry, I was trying to make it so you didn't jump." 

"My fault." He rubs his eyes. "Just been reading this book for so long it's messing with me." 

The book, of which he's told you about in detail, is about a documentary, which is in turn about a bunch of dark, ever-changing rooms, hallways and tunnels from within a house. The line between what's fiction within fiction blurs, and it's actually pretty scary if he's to be believed. "I've never seen you take so long reading one book, even if it is eight hundred pages," you say teasingly, letting the handle of your handbag slip down your shoulder. 

"The point is suspense," he says, eyes following your fingers where they dive into your bag. "Which needs time to build. What are they?" 

"These are for you, handsome." 

"You already gave me a present," he says quizzically. 

His birthday was a few days ago, and he's right. "These aren't for your birthday, Spence." 

He cracks the lid off of the tupperware on side at a time like he's scared he'll ruin the sweet treats within. You've made him fresh baked shortbread biscuits dipped in dark-chocolate and topped with sparse coconut shavings. 

"What are these?" he asks.

You both know that he knows they're cookies, so you answer the unasked question instead. "I wanted to make them for you. I think you'll like them, they're a little rich but the coconut helps even it out. You don't have to try them now or anything–" 

"Can I?" he asks, lips quirked into a gentle pout. 

"Sure." You hide your nerves as he bites into one, the cookie itself breaking softly, crumbs falling into his waiting hand. "They're messy. Should've warned you." 

He puts the uneaten half back in the tupperware and places it atop his closed book on the desk. He's nodding as he stands, arms quick over your shoulders. You can hear him swallow, his voice mildly hoarse as he says, "They're so nice," he praises, clearing his throat, "I think I swallowed too fast." His laugh warms your ear. "I can't believe you made those. How long did it take you?" 

"Not that long," you say, beaming as he pulls away. "I knew you'd like them." 

"It helps that you made them." He holds your elbow. "I don't know how to say thanks." 

You raise your cheek. "Only if you want." 

He kisses your cheek. You smile like a fool and giggle much the same, reaching around his arms to nab a cookie for yourself. They'd tasted nice last night when you tried them, but they're perfect after Spencer's praise. 

"No one's ever baked something for me before," he admits, the two of you standing much too close considering the setting. "I mean, there really wasn't a reason?" 

"No, Spence. I was watching some TV last night when I started thinking about you, and I recently got that cookbook, you remember? That was one of the dessert recipes. I had to make two batches because I put too much butter in the first try and they spread flat as a nickel." 

He smiles at your misfortune. "What?" you ask. "What's funny about that?" 

"It's not funny. You made me cookies and when they went wrong you made me more. I don't know what I–" His hand flirts with your elbow, index finger moving with a mind of its own, tickling you through your thin blouse. "You're amazing." 

"You make me really happy." You look down at his hand where it draws a line. "It makes me happy to be able to do something for you." 

Spencer can evidently see you turning shy, and he's a sweetheart, so he rescues you from your timidity with a life jacket. "Is there anything you can't do?"

"Not that I've found so far, handsome. Why, did you have something in mind?" 

He makes a big and genuine laugh, grabbing two cookies and forcing one into your hand. "You have to eat your share before Emily gets here." He nudges your hand up with his. "Go on. I'm not in the mood to share with anyone but you." 

[love-byers]

(warning: long)

we should talk more about mikes choice of words in the rink o mania fight, or rather the writers choice of words

"You basically sabotaged the whole day!!"

sabotage

in case you need a reminder of what sabotage means

deliberately destroy, damage, or obstruct

mike is not just saying will was being a douche for moping, rolling his eyes, and barely talking. he's saying wills a douche because he's doing it on purpose. not even just on purpose either, he's saying will planned this. will wanted to ruin the day. mike thinks will was out to get him by withholding his friendship. obviously will wasn't doing any of this, he just moped because he felt brushed off by mike and was ignored (or so he thought).

that kind of behavior, thinking the consequences of his own actions are a planned attack against him, is very consistent with the way he acted in s3 when el dumped him and he blamed it on max.

we can connect this directly to mike's apology where he calls himself a self-pitying idiot. the self-pity is mike allowing himself to believe it's not his fault that his day sucked, that it's not his fault will is acting this way. deep down he knows it's his own fault by purposefully brushing will off at the airport, but he was being so self-absorbed and self-pitying that he convinced himself it wasn't.

"why is this on me?? why am i the bad guy??"

so lets go through this again, inferring from mike's own words.

when will left hawkins, he felt weird. he'd just spent the whole summer trying to be grown up and acting like he didn't care about dnd anymore, shutting will down and really hurting him in the process, so he probably feels embarrassed that he now feels the exact opposite. he enjoyed spending time with max, lucas, and dustin but it just wasn't the same without will. he missed will so badly that the fact that will was barely reaching out got to his head, and he felt too insecure to find out for himself. he didn't know if will felt the same way or if he was doing fine without mike, making lots of new friends and enjoying life. he was afraid he'd lost will. then here comes el with her letters saying how life is awesome and they have lots of friends. mike probably thought, oh now i'm DEFINITELY not telling him how i feel. the letter about will potentially liking a girl was the final straw. wow. so he's occupied with some girl and thats why he won't talk to me. so now mikes determined to not give will an inkling of an idea that he's bothered or that he cares. psh, mike could care less. maybe when will sees that mike totally doesn't care he'll feel like he screwed up and he'll be super nice to compensate and win mike back.

so mike gets to lenora and hey, will, i totally don't care about seeing you, see how i dodged your hug? i don't care. then he sees the painting. maybe it's not for someone he likes, maybe it's for me. here you go will, opportunity one to win back my affection.

"Uh, what's that?"

"Um, it's nothing, it's just this painting I've been working on."

"Cool."

operation-act like i don't care: EEEEEEERRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR FAILED.

LOOK at his face bro. he looks heartbroken.

from here on mike just got more and more annoyed. will isn't trying to win him back, he isn't compensating for the months of silence. he's acting sad. he's acting sad? he has the audacity to act sad after he made all these friends and left me behind?? no, this is not my fault, this is not on me. it gets under his skin in a way he can't ignore. those feelings of guilt and annoyance that will is causing mixed with his months worth of self pity and convincing himself he's not the problem leads him to another thought. he's doing this on purpose. he's punishing me. this was his plan all along. he's trying to ruin my day for no reason, because i clearly didn't do anything to deserve this.

then angela shows up and humiliates el and mike, for some insane reason, uses this as an excuse to express his anger to will, even though it had literally nothing to do with will.

"You should've told me she was having trouble."

"Well, I didn't know they were gonna be here, Mike."

"Yeah, but you knew she was having trouble for like a year and didn't tell me."

in WHAT world is this will's fault?? he had absolutely no idea el was lying until that day. and mike is blaming him? no, he's really not, he just wants a reason to express his anger without having to admit why he's angry.

"Well, I didn't know she was lying to you."

"Is that why you decided to be a douche to her all day?"

her. he's hiding behind el's name. psh, what? i don't care that you weren't talking to me, it's because of el.

el just got publicly humiliated and mike thinks now is the time to get on will and act like el's biggest problem was will not talking to her?? no way. he just doesn't want will to know that these are his feelings.

"I wasn't being a douche!"

this completely sets mike off. how dare will act all innocent after what he did to me all day? any part of him that was trying to hide that will's behavior is bothering him has been completely overridden. will purposefully withholding his attention from mike has pissed him off soooooo badly that he can't keep it to himself anymore or hide behind el.

"You were! You were! You were rolling your eyes, you were moping, you were barely talking you basically sabotaged the whole day!"

yup, thats right will. i know exactly what you're doing and i'm calling you out on it.

"Well she was lying to you, Mike! Straight to your face ever since you got here! And...and I've been a total third wheel all day it's been miserable. So sorry if I wasn't...if i wasn't smiling."

third wheel? really?

"Yeah, whatever man."

"Well what about us?"

"What?"

i imagine this is where mike shits himself. i mean he literally stops in his tracks. will is directly addressing what he'd been trying to hide his care for the whole time, them. all of a sudden after all these months, he cares about us? and it's poking at that weird feeling he had, like he missed will too much. like he was feeling too much.

"What, you're mad that I didn't talk to you? Seems like you've made it super clear you're not interested in anything I have to say."

"That's just not true."

mike says that so fast it's like a knee-jerk reaction. of course he cares what will has to say. all he's wanted all day, and all this time for that matter, was for will to talk to him. and will is blaming him?

"You called maybe a couple times. It's been a year, Mike. Meanwhile El has like a book of letters from you."

now mike's defense is kicking in. he feels like will is directly picking at that feeling. the weirdness. the fact that he feels differently for will than the rest of his friends, even his girlfriend.

"That's because she's my girlfriend, Will!"

"And us?"

now the alarms are going off. he knows something. "us" for will in this moment is just their friendship. "us" for mike is something more, because that's what's been brewing in him the whole time they've been apart. internalized homophobia in 3..2..

"We're friends! We're. Friends."

"Well, we used to be best friends!"

oh. he was just talking about our friendship. i was tweaking a little bit. and...ouch. will just officially said they aren't best friends anymore. and he's blaming it on mike. but mikes defenses are still up high.

"Well...well maybe you should've reached out more, I don't know! But why is this on me? Why am I the bad guy?!"

then will is lost for words, and he just look sad. and as mad as mike is, he hates seeing will that way.

i imagine the day or two between this and his apology, mike went over this fight in his mind multiple times. and the more he thought about it, the more he realizes, ah shit. i was way too in my head and this was completely one sided. will wasn't plotting against me, i just felt so bad for myself i convinced myself i did nothing wrong. all this because i thought he found new friends and i felt bad for myself. and now i've lost my best friend and made him feel like all of it is his fault. i have to let him know it's all on me.

tldr: mike is weird and gay.

[seventeenpins]

the stranger the better

pairing: Dieter Bravo x Reader word count: 5.6k summary: Dieter gets tentacles. That's the fic. content/warnings: uhhhh this one has a whole lot: importantly--TENTACLES!, lots of viscous body fluids, slight dubcon due to tentacles with a mind of their own??, buckets of cum, piv, tiv 👀, dieter is a switch, sex parasite, anal, masturbation, body horror, idk they're freaks and it's great, reader has a vulva but gendered language is not used a/n: this is basically just a crackfic that i've taken far too seriously. Also, shoutout to Ozzie @ozarkthedog for listening to all my dumbass thoughts and helping me finally get this finished!! ☺️😚

Dieter doesn't know exactly how the idea came to him, but he knows the important bits. It was, he reasoned, a sign- nay, a prophecy. He wishes he could replicate the exact cocktail of stimulants and psychedelics that allowed him to see this glimpse into greatness, because the results were eye opening.

Somehow, the universe injected into him an understanding of That Which He Sought.

He sketched it, painted it, utilized every descriptor he could think of, and sat down his PA, Todd, using every medium he had adequate command of to illustrate as clear a picture for his employee as was possible.

He was very thorough.

Todd, who Dieter often found unsettling due to the degree to which he was able to stay entirely un-rattled by anything, raised an eyebrow.

(Dieter didn't want to ruin the moment, but this was a fucking win.)

The PA's first response was "Excuse me, you want me to find you something that definitely doesn't exist because you had a drug-induced hallucination about it?"

On day five of Dieter waxing poetic, Todd needed it to end. He was already well adept at navigating the dark web--this was not the first time Dieter had had him track down something weird--but he had absolutely no doubt that Dieter was about to get scammed for a whole lot of money.

No skin off my nose, he reasoned, and negotiated the definitely-not-legit sale anyway. Whatever Dieter wants, Dieter gets. Hopefully, he'll be willing to accept the truth when no magical prophecy thing materializes at his door.

It's over a month later, when Todd feels confident nothing would turn up, and just as Dieter begins to accept this crushing defeat, that a strange, perfect cube of a parcel arrives.

It was a sleek box that felt somewhere between aluminum and heavy cardstock, with a heavier, equally sleek box inside. Something about it seemed almost extraterrestrial.

Todd placed it on the least cluttered corner of Dieter's immensely cluttered coffee table and made a prompt exit. If this thing was somehow the thing Dieter was after, he didn't want to be present for even a minute of the aftermath.

Hours later, when Dieter discovers the parcel, his heart begins to pound. With shaking hands, he unwraps it.

It's a bitch to open, almost akin to one of those puzzle boxes, but even more confounding. There are no visible seams. No obvious opening. He's halfway ready to take a hammer to it when, all of a sudden, it unfolds itself in elegant, silvery, petal-like plates.

Inside is a glass-like cube. Glass-like, but definitely not glass--it didn't have enough weight to it. Not plastic, either. The density wasn't quite right. Inside the cube is a strange, pulsating something.

It's the thing from his dream.

The pulsing thing is a little revolting, but mostly intriguing. (Todd would argue the reverse.) Shape wise, it's grub-like, maybe a handspan long, with its body made up of many near-identical segments. Both ends of it taper to a rounded bulb, and both ends are absolutely dripping with some sort of viscous fluid. No flared base, Dieter notes, and then decides it’s a nonissue.

As well as being, well, somewhat disgusting, it's also quite beautiful. It's iridescent, reminding him of some kind of shimmery beetle. It looks soft, and with every strange pulse, the sheen catches the light and throws rainbows in all the crevices of its little body.

Dieter immediately pops the weirdest boner.

For a man who's impulse control is about as ingrained as his commitment to abstinence, he's incredibly proud that he manages to wait until after this Friday's particularly tedious production meeting wraps up before getting started.

He has this weekend off, and gives everyone on his team the weekend off too. When the last person steps out the door, he locks up and promptly gets naked.

If his prophecy is anything to go off of, he expects this to get messy.

The shower pressure is perfect, and the temperature is just right. Slowly, tenderly, he works himself open. Sometimes he does this even when he doesn’t intend to put anything in his ass, sometimes it’s just for the sensation. This time, though, he absolutely does. 

He isn’t sure if he should run the -thing- under the tap first, cause it’s dripping so profusely he’s worried he’ll shoot it across the entire length of the bathroom like an errant bar of soap. In case the lubricating properties are necessary to the efficacy of the process, however, he holds it gently but firmly with one hand as he lifts it out of its, fuckin, transparent aluminum box, holding his other hand beneath it.

It’s slippery, that’s for certain. And when he presses it against the rim of his asshole, he experiences a very new feeling.

It wriggles. As if the nose? Tail? Indeterminate-and-hopefully-not-sentient-end of the thing seems to respond with enthusiasm the second it’s within sniffing distance of his favorite hole. He feels it pulse in his hand, gushing more of the fluid. For a moment, he’s certain the thing is going to evade his grasp and slip away but instead, as if burrowing, it slides itself up, up and away.

Dieter suddenly feels very full.

If he’s honest, this isn’t quite how he expected it to go. He thought he’d be more involved, for one. For another, he didn’t realize it would scurry so quickly into his butt. He thought he’d be able to hold onto it a little. Fuck himself with it. 

Gently, he presses a finger into himself to see if he can feel where it’s gone. Nothing. He switches from his pointer to his middle finger, slightly longer than the former, and presses even deeper, spreading his cheeks with his fist, sinking in as far as he possibly can.

He doesn’t feel it.

This may be precipitating a (not unfamiliar) ER trip, but he’s not ready to give up yet. Besides, this thing seemed at least a little organic. The likelihood of it perforating his bowel seemed pretty safely nonexistent, so maybe this one can be something of a wait-and-see.

Besides, maybe this is just the process! Little in life was actually straightforward, and his vision was pretty nebulous.

Maybe, to move it along, he needed to start by busting a nut. So he takes his cock in hand and starts pumping, feeling the hot spray of the shower on his back, working out all the kinks.

He’s hard, yes, and it does feel good. But after fifteen minutes of stroking himself, he realizes he isn’t experiencing pleasure, nothing that’s building or arousing, which is in itself a new experience. He can always feel pleasure. It’s the goddamn thing that’s gotten him into trouble more times than he can count.

Now, however, the shower’s started to run cold, his dick’s rubbed raw, and he’s no closer to an orgasm than he is to becoming an elected official. He’s been beaten by his own meat.

It’s absolute bullshit, but as he feels himself start to panic he manages to tamp it down a little. Nothing good will come from spiraling. Instead, he luxuriates in covering his entire body in a particularly wonderful-smelling body oil (for combination pampering and sore skin smoothing) and smokes a fat, fat joint. 

This was Tomorrow Dieter’s problem. 

He gives himself a couple more half-hearted tugs, just in case the oil makes a difference. It doesn’t, and it kind of burns, but he can at least go to sleep knowing he did the best he could.

Tomorrow’s a fresh start.

He slips into bed, takes a moment to appreciate the fabric against his bare skin. With a sigh, he drifts off to sleep.

Hot midday sunlight blasts through the gaps between the blinds. He should really get some of those non-gappy blinds installed. Or drapes. Nothing beats a good drape.

As he wakes up, something feels… off. He tries to sit up, but there’s something of a mass at his abdomen. He tries to brush it away–probably some detritus he’d left in his bed and forgotten about. Instead, though, the mass doesn’t budge. Instead, he’s suddenly overwhelmed by an intense, blinding pleasure. It hits him and takes over everything, and by the time he comes back down a whole minute later, he’s certain he must’ve just creamed his pants.

He pulls back the covers to check. 

Instead of the view he expects; his fat, hard cock, thighs, and tummy coated with cum–he finds a writhing, twisting heap of squirming tentacles.

He must still be dreaming.

Dieter slams his eyelids together. Presses the palms of his hands against his sockets till his vision goes brown and black spotty. Opens them again.

The tentacles are still there. 

Not knowing what else to do, he reaches out and touches one of them, gingerly. The same blinding pleasure hits him again. It’s only a gentle touch but already he knows that this isn’t just some wayfaring… squid that’s decided to make a home on his belly.

Nope.

This is definitely a part of him now.

He tries tensing and untensing his core muscles. One tentacle slaps out and hits the bed. Another two tangle themselves together. A fourth smacks against one of his nipples and, with a viscid sucker, pulls a desperate whine from him. Though some of the tips seem to always be emerging from him, he’s able to unfurl even more at will. He’d only noticed seven tentacles at first, then tensed, and a second row exploded from him while the outer layer smacked against the bed like a radial motif made of party horns. He thinks there might be even more. A third layer? A fourth?

When he’s able to relax a little and re-focus his attention, shaking, the inner layer sucks back in and he notices that the outer limbs have the same rainbow iridescence as the thing. Of course. Of course!

It takes time, more than an hour to start separating the new sensations from one another. To divide the writhing limbs and control them each individually. When he finally manages to high-five each of his outer tentacles, one-by-one, he’s certain he has at least enough control to avoid causing injury.

By this point, his cock is aching. He wraps two of the lowest tentacles around his length. The tentacles are thick, but his dick is too. They’re quite cold in a way that’s actually delicious. It feels like the cousin of the sensation he experiences when he slips ice cubes in his ass, only way, way more intense.

Just like that thing, too, the tentacles are dripping with the same viscous slick.

He works himself up. It's so intense, soo much stimulation, he half-expects to cum in a fraction of the usual time.

Instead, he finds himself hours later on the verge of tears, not a single orgasm in sight. 

His body simply will not allow him to cum.

It’s miserable, and clearly a horrible, horrible mistake. Will he be like this for the rest of his life, rife with tentacles and unable to clutch at his own pleasure? His dick is sore, having tugged at himself with every limb available. He has sucker marks on his nipples and throat. One tentacle is still squirming around inside his tight little hole and still he can’t reach his peak.

He needs a fucking break.

And maybe some food.

He checks the time. It’s later than he thought, nearly dinnertime. He’s spent his entire day on this.

He starts to formulate a new plan. Order food. Eat. Hydrate. Maybe he’ll scroll through his phone for booty calls and see if he can pinpoint one single person who might not get him sent away to Area 51. Maybe it makes a difference with another person? 

He barely thinks as he fills up his virtual bag and places an order. Leaves a massive tip because he’s getting into hangry territory and needs his food now. 

He shoots Todd a quick ‘I have tentacles now’ text, and closes his eyes.

It’s been a long day. A bit slow, which makes you itchy, but it hasn’t been too bad.

You’re about to call it a night. Grab yourself a bite to eat, and curl up at home.

Then your phone vibrates in your hand.

A delivery order pings on your phone and the tip is substantial. It’s incredibly close to you, too. You accept immediately, not wanting anyone else to get to it first. The tip alone can keep you afloat till after rent is due.

You rush, heading to the restaurant and, miracle of miracles, it’s a quiet night. The restaurant’s already working on the order and it’s only a matter of minutes before it’s ready to go. 

Twenty minutes from accepting the order, you’re walking up the footpath through a well-manicured succulent garden. The house is ostentatious. An enormous lazy river wraps around the home, and you have to cross over a bridge to get to the fucking door . When you get closer, though, you notice surprisingly beautiful carvings, spandrels, and various other decorative details that make it more than just a generic multi-million dollar cookie cutter home. It’s weird, but it has personality to it.

You get to the door and check the order details. It’s not a no-contact delivery. Instead, the message reads:

very sleepy. need food. 1) knock, if no answer 2) ring doorbell, if no answer 3) bring me food and wake me up and i’ll double the tip for your trouble the door code is 6969

Frankly, it seems a great way to get lured in by a wealthy eccentric and hunted for sport, or recruited to join a cult, or something else equally unfortunate. But self-preservation has never been a priority for you, and life is made to be lived.

You knock. You really want him to open the door himself. Even with permission, going in feels like an enormous invasion, and especially if this guy is sleeping, you really don’t want to tiptoe through this stranger's house.

On the other hand, though, you really can’t see yourself turning down that tip, if it comes to that. Definitely lends itself to your ‘this person is crazy’ theory, but you’re committed. You’re seeing this through.

You knock a second time and wait. Nothing.

Thankfully, after ringing the doorbell, you hear the shuffle of soft footsteps. The lock clicks and turns, and a moment later, you’re face to face with a rather disheveled individual.

His hair is mussed, sticking out in all directions, and, you realize, he looks familiar.

But it only takes a moment to forget that thought entirely.

At first, you hadn’t noticed that anything amiss. He was wearing a striped dressing gown over a crop top and sweats. The stripes, though, looked like they were rippling. And it wasn’t an actual crop top, either, no; the shirt had just been pulled up to accommodate what was on his midsection.

It took every effort not to drop the bag of food when you realize what it is.

“Oh,” he says, noticing your expression. He rubs at his temple, infinitely exhausted as he looks you up and down.

“You’re-” you start.

“Yeah, I’m Dieter Bravo-” he finishes.

You blink, shaking your head. He is in fact Dieter Bravo, you realize, but that doesn’t seem like the most significant thing happening here. “You’re covered in tentacles.”

“Oh,” he says again. “Yeah. I guess they are tentacles."

“Um, are they… yours?”

He shrugs, disinterested.

You fumble to find something to say, instead giving up and thrusting his bag towards him. 

He takes it after a moment.

“Thanks,” he says, not making eye contact. 

Apparently, putting on a robe was this man’s idea of concealing them. Now, he’s not trying to be discreet. The tentacles unfurl, most of them hanging heavy from his abdomen, nearly brushing the floor. Several, however, reach into the food bag and withdraw a burrito and a sauce container.

"Are they--" you watch as two of the tentacles start to unwrap the burrito. The foil tears a bit more than he intends, and then he dunks it a little too heavily into the sauce, which shoots out from the grasp of another tentacle. Salsa verde splatters everywhere. The limbs’ movements are apparently uncontrolled. "Are the tentacles new.. to you?"

He sighs. "Yeah. They just showed up this morning."

You’re not sure what to say. “Huh,” you venture.

“Yeah,” he agrees. But then he looks at you, surveys you, and narrows his eyes. He seems like he’s weighing something.

“Uh, this might be weird, what with this-” he gestures at the tentacles, “Situation. But-”

He hesitates, and you nod, encouraging. “But what?”

Dieter winces. Takes a deep breath, and lets it out.

“Do you wanna have sex with me?”

You look at him. At his tentacles. This is admittedly a lot. It’s almost certainly a bad idea.

But you made a promise to yourself and to your best friend years ago: If you ever have an opportunity to fuck an entity that has tentacles, you’d better say yes.

And it’s Dieter Fucking Bravo. You’re not backing down now.

“Yes I do.”

It starts surprisingly gently. You lean towards him and he cups your cheek in a broad hand, pulling you in.

This isn’t your first time kissing a stranger. If you’re honest, it’s something of a hobby of yours, so the experience of feeling a new give-and-take was familiar despite its novelty. 

What you’d never experienced before, however, was that from the first moment his tongue stroked into your mouth, you felt the most delicious pull.

You were already a little excited, but before even a moment had passed, you now felt yourself drench. Your pussy was drooling, the slick pooling between your legs.

You’re certain he can feel it too.

What had been a look of pleasure and curiosity twisted  into absolute hunger. You swear you can see his eyes dilating. After a moment, you’re certain yours must be, too. The room suddenly feels too bright.

Whatever disinterest he’d shown when you’d turned up at his door has dissolved, replaced with an urgent enthusiasm. “Fuck I’ve been needing this all day.”

From the front door, all down the hallway to the bedroom, a trail of clothing marks your path. 

Between kisses he explains.

“Ever since-” a kiss, “the tentacles–”

You grab him by the hair and he moans.

“I can’t cum. I’ve tried, for hours-”

You hop on one leg and then the other, peeling your socks off as Dieter steadies you by the waist.

“Been jacking off all day-,” he peels his own shirt off, hands flying frantically to make quick work of his clothes, “But I think I need someone else. My body just won’t work. Been hard as fucking rock but nothing happens-”

You slip an arm around his waist and drag your teeth along his collar, grinning when he melts into you.

“You poor thing,” you tell him, and you look in his eyes when you make your promise; “I’ll try and help, much as I can.”

"Amazing," He grins. “I feel better already.”

Dieter’s entirely bare, but you’re still wearing clothing. Something, you both realise, is passing between you. It’s a strange electricity that heightens every sensation. You feel the scruff of his beard against your cheek, you feel your underwear soaked. When he pinches at your nipple, you nearly howl at the pleasure that washes over you. 

As you feel each touch, the sensation builds in a way that’s totally alien to you. He shoves a hand in your pants and groans when he feels the thatch of hair at your cunt. He rubs two fingers along your slit, not stimulating your clit and not even trying to. He’s just warming up what feels like every single nerve ending in your entire vulva till you’re bucking against him.

He pulls his hand away and touches a finger to his tongue, tasting you. Two tentacles make fast work of the button of your jeans. Another wraps around your waist, lifting you up from the floor and suspending you in the air to peel the denim from you, unceremoniously tossing the garment behind you somewhere.

He’s fully naked. His cock hangs heavy and a little to the right, and there’s so much precum, it streams down his thigh where his tip meets the flesh of his leg.

You reach forward and wrap your fist around him. At your touch, he shudders. It’s a beautiful, desperate noise, and already, there’s so much more slick leaking out of him that any suspicion that this amount of oozy fluid isn’t normal is entirely confirmed. You wrap your hand around his length and he melts into your touch with a whine. 

The tentacles wrap around you. You’re not sure how many there are, and their movement is fast and intentional. The man in front of you is essentially a walking sex toy from your sickest, wettest dreams, and you will not waste this.

You reach for one of the tentacles, whatever is nearest to you. For a moment you think it’ll pull out of your grasp, but then it relaxes at your grip. You stick your tongue out and lick the tip, getting the suckers at the end nice and wet. Then, you realize it’s superfluous; the tentacles themselves are already leaking, oozing a pearlescent, cum-like fluid. For all you know, it is cum.

With your thumb, you swirl the slick around one of the larger suckers, and look Dieter right in the eye when you pull one of your bra cups down and press the sucker against your nipple. With barely a flick of effort, a tendril unhooks your bra, pulling it off of you before slicking up your other nipple and pulling a throaty moan from you.

His breath catches just watching you. It’s perfect suction, slick and firm and oh-so steady. 

“How many do you think you can take?” He asks, pink-faced and restless. The flush is so endearing. He looks desperate.

“Give me all you’ve got,” you tell him.

He whines and hisses. You think he might be deliberating, but after a moment it’s like a switch has flipped, releasing any inhibitions he may have held onto, unlocking his filthy tongue.

“Lemme see that wet little snatch,” he purrs, “That’s it, open those legs for me-” 

As if simply willing it–and that may as well be all that it takes–you both watch as one of the fat tentacles splits from the tip, sticky goo trailing between the trifurcated ends like an aloe vera leaf sliced apart. The three new tips writhe apart before slamming into your mouth. Two others pluck at your skin, marring the soft flesh of your inner thighs.

You yelp, muffled, as your legs are spread wide by slick, strong limbs, smaller tendrils prodding at your slick panties before giving up and tearing them apart. Elastic slips loose from your hips, and the gusset of the underwear is a ragged hole.

He steps closer, holds you effortlessly. You’re suspended by a whole mass of tentacles, the suckers pulsating against your skin, dark purple blooms beginning to bruise beneath them. Dieter’s face is so close to your cunt, your first instinct is to close your legs. He holds them open further, though, and breathes deep. “You smell like a fucking dream,” he praises, running a think finger along your folds, dipping in gently, stroking along you, finding where you’re most sensitive.

After a thorough examination, he steps back. “Gonna play with you, baby,” he tells you.

"Jesus Christ", you breathe. The tentacles in your mouth slip out and another tentacle presses at your opening. It slips with a lewd squelch and little resistance, pumps in a couple times, and pulls out to wrap around Dieter’s cock. He strokes himself with the slippery tentacle and lets out a groan.

"Feels like fucking heaven," he breathes, and another tentacle replaces the first, plunging into your cunt and pulsating, filling you so nicely, making you shake. 

You fight against the flutter of your eyelids. There’s so much sensation it’s hard to keep your eyes open, but you need to see him. Need to see this.

“Can you feel with them?” you ask, “With the tentacles?”

“Hmm,” he ponders, “Yes, but–” he slips a second tentacle in with the one already probing your hole and you feel very full. They twist and turn, writhing, pumping in and out of you. You’ve barely gotten started but you can already feel yourself start to build. At this rate, you’ll be squirting all over him in absolutely no time at all.

“I feel it,” he tells you, “And it feels really good, like, fuuuckkk–but it feels like it’s not just me controlling them. It is me, but it’s more than just me. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

“Then don’t,” you smile, “Just fuck yourself with them the same way you’re fucking me.”

He lets out another whine. It’s cute, really. Only a minute ago he’d been telling you what to do, and with the slightest prodding, he seems eager to obey. You could get far too used to this.

“C’mon, baby,” you coax, your hips canting, thrusting against the slippery tentacles pressing deeper, deeper-, “Keep going just like that. And open yourself up, too.”

He groans, and two tentacles move around him to start spreading his cheeks. A third prods tenderly at his hole.

Just as a third tentacle presses into your cunt, and another is gently pressing it’s suckers up your throat and holding you in place, Dieter is rendered incoherent as one thick tentacle shoves its way into him. Immediately, he sees stars. If this was the result of an entire day of edging, it was more than worth it.

You’re rutting against the tentacles that are fucking you, meeting each thrust. There’s a pulse pumping through each limb, making you feel impossibly full. When you look at Dieter, you’re certain you can see the bulge of a tentacle in his belly, filling him up so full.

You barely have time to process the build of your arousal before the tip of one of the tentacles suckers against your clit and another twists inside you, hits you in just the right way, and you tip over.

Cum spurts from you, your entire body convulsing. You try to close your thighs, try to pull away from the sensation, but you’re still being held aloft and spread out, fully bared. Instead of stopping or slowing, the tentacles only fuck into you faster and deeper. You can’t stop coming, certain at this point you’ve made a whole damn puddle on the floor beneath you.

Dieter watches, transfixed by the entire show that’s played out before him. He’s red-faced, his skin mottled with purple bruises, cock so hard it looks painful, and has a trio of tendrils ass-fucking him.

When your orgasm finally, finally tapers off, you almost expect your holds to release you. A new hunger stirs in you, though, and when you’re still held tight, you’re oddly grateful for it.

Dieter lowers you, pulling you towards him. He kisses you, open-mouthed and messy, groaning into it. After a few moments he pulls away from you, slick lipped and panting. When he speaks, his voice is raspy and desperate, a monstrous echo following it to create a bizarre, two-tone sound.

The tentacles that aren’t already on or in you both start whipping around, grabbing for purchase and pulling away as if they can’t make up their mind.

Dieter pushes you back. Starts to withdraw.

You hold him in place.

Now you can see his eyes.

They’re totally black. Even the sclerae are gone, murky with inky swirls, glassy and wide and beautiful.

“I- I think you need to leave,” he begs, “It’s too much. They’re taking too much from me.”

You reach out to put a hand on his cheek, and he leans in for a moment before flinching away.

“No!” He hisses, “You need to go. It feels too good, it won’t let me stop. I won’t be able to stop. I don’t know how far it’ll go, but if you don’t leave, I don’t think I can stop it.”

Warmth and clarity floods you. You’re not sure how much is your own mind, and how much is this thing that’s taken over, but it’s sweet, really.

He thinks you could stop if you wanted to.

“It’s okay,” you assure him, and you feel the way he melts, feel the way the tentacles stop fighting and start wrapping around your limbs again, their grasp pulling tighter and tighter, “You take what you need.”

With a sob, he lets go.

The tentacles set you down. Your legs shake, and you barely have time to blink before he’s on you. Any distance you had is gone now, his hands grasping at you, his body flush against yours. You can feel the weight of his cock against your thigh, the strength of his arms holding you. He’s steadying you, or maybe steadying himself. The skin-to-skin contact feels so fucking good and, if the way his hands fly all over you, you’re certain he feels it too.

One big hand grabs at your breast, the other clutching the flesh of your hip. He grinds against you, messy and sticky and so, so delicious. 

He settles you back against a surface, seats you and spreads your legs with his strong hands. A tentacle grabs at your jaw almost tenderly, plucking at the skin, holding you gently.

Dieter lines up his cock and sinks into you, groaning at the hot wet clutch that sucks him in. The surrounding tendrils wrap around you both. You’re certain there are still tentacles fucking into him, but you think another might join, right at the same time you feel the slippery tip of one prodding at your own asshole.

You relax into it, nod to let him know you’re ready, and moan as you feel the slimy length penetrate you. Dieter moans, too, entirely lost in the sensation.

He fucks you fast and deep. You’ve never felt fullness like this before. The pump of the tentacles into both you and Dieter matches his rhythm. 

“Fuck-” he croaks, desperate, “Think I’m getting close-”

“That’s it, baby,” you soothe, “Makin’ me feel so fucking good. Come on, baby, come for me-”

He pulls you into him, presses his lips to your in a kiss, his tongue slipping into your mouth, longer and deeper than it has any right to be. It’s a tentacle, too, you realize, and you moan into the suckers that have started pulling at your tongue. It’s disgusting and absolutely exquisite.

He only manages two more thrusts before he explodes.

You feel his balls pulse, cum flooding your cunt. The tentacles pulse too, though, and soon your mouth is full, your ass, his ass. Like fireworks popping off in quick succession, every tentacle unloads, one after the next, painting the entire room in dripping swaths of cum.

He lets out a noise that sounds like something between a sob and a laugh, final blessed release at last reaching him. 

Dieter pulls out, but continues rocking against you, humping your thigh as his alien limbs continue to surge with spend.

After several long, sticky minutes, you unfurl from one another. With some distance between you, you’re able to see the damage that’s been done. The room is a disaster. You can literally see cum dripping from the ceiling.

Dieter’s looking around the room, too, but he doesn’t look concerned. No, he looks impressed.

“Well shit,” he surveys everything around him. “That was fun.”

You’re still catching your breath as he rummages around and procures a stash box. You can see a variety of substances; baggies filled with powder, assorted pills, a few things you don’t recognise, and a fat pouch full of bud.

He rolls a joint, licks the paper, packs it, and sparks it.

“So, uh-” you start, unsure where you’re going with it.

He beats you to it.

“You wanna stay over?”

You stare at him.

“I mean, it just seems rude to send someone home after sharing some life-altering tentacle sex, right?”

“I was unaware there was standard etiquette regarding tentacle sex.”

He shrugs. “All etiquette is just made up, right?”

A glob of cum drips from the ceiling and lands with a dull splat against the top of your head.

You burst out laughing.

Dieter’s eyes crinkle, and he’s laughing too.

He passes you the joint. You take it, wiping cum from your forehead.

“All right,” you tell him, “I’ll stay over.”

Dieter checks his phone, pulls up Todd’s text thread.

Beneath his tentacles text is Read 1:43pm. He rolls his eyes and follows it up.

you remember those cleaners? the good ones? the crime scene ones?

I need em

soon as they’re free

promise it’s not a crime scene this time

there’s just a lot of cum

After you’re both showered, you go to Dieter’s spare bedroom. Hazy from the weed and exhausted from the hands-down weirdest and best sex of your life, you collapse together.

Dieter’s tentacles look different. Smaller, maybe? Less hungry. Sated.

You fall asleep with his tentacles around you.

When you wake up, his arms are around you instead, holding you close. His abdomen is bare, only skin left.

You start to wriggle, to turn over, but something’s in your way.

There’s something at your abdomen, blocking your movements.

Dieter begins to stir. He stretches, rubs his eyes, and takes you in.

“Babe-” he grins, “You’ve gotta fuck me with those!”

Your own set of shimmering tentacles slip and writhe from your body. You pull him close, suddenly hungry, and get to work.

[jolalibrary]

sunrise

francisco morales x santiago garcia

GIF credit to @perotovar

summary: after mixed messages, pope asks frankie if he'll watch the sunrise with him.

wordcount: 1.1k warnings: none. jo doing jo things with words. just two boys, mixed messages and a bit of hope. an: happy pride. this fic is dedicated to the lovely, wonderful @perotovar who not only is a great friend, but also has never made me feel like i'm not part of pride. it's been a long time since I've written m/m, but erin, your kind words (and gif) filled me with joy. i hope this fills you with joy too.

Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz—

He doesn’t need to look, to smack his hand around the bedside table, Frankie knows where his phone is.

Retrieving it, pressing it to his ear—old sleep crusting in his eyes—Frankie lets out a soft groan, the weight of lingering thoughts still pushing heavily against his mind. With a reluctant sigh, he mumbles a tender hello, his voice heavy, gruff.

“Hey,” Pope says.

It elongates, stretches out like a fragile thread suspended between them—as though another word should have followed but isn’t spoken.

“You awake?”

“Am now.”

He doesn’t miss the chuckle that’s embedded into the breath. Nor, how it brushes down and through the phone. A sensation bubbling across his skin, his body remembering how it feels to have it against him.

“You’ve not been replying—in the group chat.”

He rubs his face, the motion all a hopeless attempt to awaken his mind, wishing the act would spur on words. Something. Anything to bridge the aching void between them.

It doesn’t.

It just adds to the other things churning inside him, layering over doubts and questions—the ones that linger unanswered, even when they are alone, haunting the spaces between their moments together.

Sliding the phone back against his cheek, he sighs. “Yeah, sorry. Just… wasn’t checking things.”

“Yeah, thought so.”

He hums, and then releases a heavy breath. Needing to fill the silence before it begins. Not wanting to find out if today it’s comfortable or the opposite.

“You busy?”

“At 3 in the morning?”

Pope laughs—and Frankie hates how much he likes the sound. Despises it, almost. Loathes it, like he detests how he feels.

“Didn’t know if you wanted to watch the sunrise with me.”

“I’m a whole flight from you, Pope.”

“Don’t have to be in the same location to watch the sun come up, Fish.”

“We fuckin’ do if it comes up at different times, cabrón.”

There’s a pause, then a chuckle. One that begins with Pope and then ends with him. It fills the air, the space, the area between them that they pretend not to notice or ask about whenever they come home.

Because home isn’t out there, where they’re adorned in layers that barrier against artillery and threats; home isn’t where they help the other free from it all in the comfort of a base room or a tent in the middle of nowhere. Home is real. It’s chosen paint on the walls and picked out bedding; it’s photographs filled with only the best and souvenirs that remind of good times.

And, right now, the only evidence of Pope here is the memories—

That first kiss. How fuelled it had been, how he’d done it purely to stop the tide of ifs and buts that Pope had been flinging, angrily darting in the hope to hit the bullseye and wound him further than his foolishness had.

And it’s not that Frankie wishes to hang up, it isn’t that he hopes to shove things further into his soul. He’s had his crisis—had it when he’d had Pope pressed against his spine, breath fanning out over his neck, making the hair curled from their earlier activities twitch and tickle.

But, he’s at least come to terms with the fact this isn’t a home thing. A thing which doesn’t exist when he steps on the plane to go back to a life where people call him Francisco. He’s made his peace with it, accepted it—as much as a person can.

He’s done the work to rationalise and reason. So, whatever this phone call is, it feels counterproductive. It feels like sinking, falling through those steps and nets he’s built until he’s drenched in the will-they-won’t-they he’s clambered far away from. The hopes seep into his skin, worming into his brain, threatening to paint shadows on the back of his eyelids at what the two of them could be—

“What are we doing, Pope?”

There’s an exhale. It’s likely a sigh, but it’s hard to assess without the facial expression. The way he wears his feelings in his body language.

“I‘m not sure.”

Frankie expects that, somehow. Yet it still stings, hurts—ripples out like a lashing he’s braced for. Rolling onto his side, he grinds his jaw. Staring at the gap in the curtains, the one that’ll allow light to bleed through in a few more hours, nostrils flaring as he shakes his head.

“I can’t watch the sunrise with you.”

“‘Cause of the time difference?”

Rolling his eyes, he blows out a harsh breath. “No. Because if we do, I’ll confess something that’ll make it hard for you to do that compartmentalising shit that you do about the fact you and I fuck.”

The silence that follows is painful, excruciating. It’s devoid and barren, dull and full of nothing. There’s no background noise to drown it out, the night too quiet, the hour too dormant—to the point it almost makes Frankie feel guilty for disturbing it.

“What if I told you I’m at the motel on 22nd—”

Frankie sits up. Bolt upright. The suddenness of it forces the sheet to fall from his neck to pool at his waist, the air cool flurrying over warm skin, heat blooming in his cheeks.

“—the one you talked about—”

His heart hammers. Pounds.

“—the one you go to when home is a bit too… home.”

“Pope…”

“Fish.”

Swinging his legs from under the sheets, elbow resting on the place above his knee, hand wiping down his face, awake, blood pounding in his ears.

“Por favor no bromees.”

Sighing, blowing it right into his ear. It’s far more soothing, rooting, than it has been before.

“Wanna watch the sunrise with me, Fish?”

Swallowing, fear threatens to poison the joy that is trying to fill his chest. His hand clamps around his knee for leverage, for strength. Squeezing, likely making his skin paler—it returning to colour when he releases as he tries to get his brain to calculate the percentage of how much of a good idea this is.

But then he hears his name. It whispered, with more of an infliction, a question to it.

And so he takes a breath. “Y-yeah. Yeah, I’ll… get dressed now.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.”

A silence unfurls, one nicer, more bearable than any of the others before—

“Well hurry then, Fish.”

And then, as Frankie suspected, Pope ends the call.

tagging: @morallyinept (for your collection)

[fangirleaconmigo]

I've been thinking about this for such a long time, and here's my treatise on Our Flag Means Death and Gentlebeard just randomly on this Wednesday afternoon.

Maybe it sounds odd but OFMD perfectly illustrates how gender roles are a trap. If you fail at your gender (Stede) you are alienated from society. BUT if you succeed at your gender (Ed) you are alienated from yourself.

Here's why this creates the perfect romantic conflict.

I usually don't care for romances because the conflict feels forced, or it undermines the connection. But Ed/Stede is amazing. And I kept wondering how they captured my imagination so completely.

Well, they have a real connection, and the conflict is fascinating and credible, based on this gender trap.

Their connection is joyful and touching. Ed's delight at everything people mock Stede for, oh my god. My heart. And Stede encouraging Ed's interest in things he's not 'supposed' to have interest in? The fine fabric? Perfection. No notes. Love it.

And then the conflict is really the trauma and effects of this gender trap. They cannot see the damage the performance (or in Stede's case, the lack of ability to perform gender) is causing the other. They idealize the other because they have what the other lacks. Here's what I mean.

Since humans need connection Stede's punishment for performing gender poorly is the ultimate one-loneliness and rejection from his 'own people'. Humans cannot be alone, we are not meant to be an island, and to be rejected by EVERYONE that brings him into the world? *insert zuko's that's rough buddy gif*

But when he meets Ed, Ed only sees Stede's freedom (his incapacity to pretend he is anything but who he is) and admires and covets it.

And since Ed's success in performing his gender is a self perpetuating trap, built brick by brick on a foundation of suffocation of the self, his spirit is dying.

But Stede only sees the admiration and approval of others that he has built up around himself. He yearns for that.

So you have two people, devalued for who they are, one who can only be himself but is mocked for it, and the other who is not himself, and is drowning, but surrounded by people who admire him.

So yes, they truly see and value each other. But because they have never paid the exact kind of price the other is paying, they cannot see it. As a result, they can't see how bad those insecurities are. They can't see why the other might want a little of what they have.

I just found it absolutely incredible seeing them figure it out and find a true connection. I loved watching them build that found family around themselves. Ed had to be strong enough to be who has was with his crew, and learn to value them for who they were as well.

And Stede built a family of people around him who valued what he brings to the table. Many of those were the same people, but they had to learn to value him (after suffering Ed's approach).

I know it's a really silly show and very heightened, so you can't be too literal about everything, but it is a show with a good heart that has two romantic leads that paint an incredible picture of the two sides of the gender/society coin. It was very satisfying for me to watch their journey.

I'm sad it's cancelled but I'll be a Gentlebeard ho for life.

[aperfectlylesbian]

Agathario's kids dialogues prompts:

-

(I had a lot of fun writing this, I have a lot of ideas about my fanfic and this is a way to share it with you. I haven't posted it yet, I'll probably do it only in November. In the meantime, enjoy these little pieces. It's my own view, but I thought flipping some things around would be funny and it made me think a lot about certain possibilities.)

Note: That's all based on my own fanfiction. Kind an epilogue thing.

Pregnancy dialogues:

“So... you're going to have a child?” “We’re going.” “Oh. Okay. Wait what?!”

“Look, if you don't want it, I can just, you know, make it disappear.” “No! No way! It's mine too!”

“So... no true form for nine months?” “Unfortunately.”

“What if it's a boy?”

“What if it's a girl?”

“NO BABY SHOWER.”

“I'm just going to collect a soul, Agatha.”

“You'll do a good job.” “Thanks.”

“I have a human growing inside of me, I'm not fine.”

“It's a cozy place. A few runes here and there and, there you go, home sweet home!”

“I feel so emotional, I need a slap to stop me crying. Sweetheart!”

“Stomach bug?” “Worse, morning sickness.”

“I'll take that.” “Hey!” “No knife playing for you!”

“My boobs hurt, I can't stop crying and I'm horny all the time, which isn't so bad, but I'm sweating in places I didn't even know humans had sweat glands!”

“Come home to me when you're done.” “Home? I like the sound of that.”

“I know it's the hormones talking, but you’re pissing me off.”

“I'm in the garden, and I don't want to be disturbed!”

“Oh, the neutral face of displeasure. What have I done this time?”

“Nothing fits me.” “Don’t say that, you look fantastic, cariño!”

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN BY BABIES?”

“Troublesome twins, mi vida!”

“Agatha, sweetheart, I love you, but if this kids gets your hips I will murder you.”

“Aww, they already look so much like me!” “Agatha! They're symphoning magic! From the womb!”

“I'd say I'm officially pregnant now.” *patting her growing belly gently*

“I've never seen you sleep for so long. I almost thought you were dead but you're Death, so.”

“I'm pregnant, not fashion-senseless. I refuse to wear these clothes.”

“You have been throwing up for hours, I'll make you some tea. Maybe it help.”

“It's enough you trying to kill me sometimes, I don't need the kids on the list.”

“WHAT'S THIS?!” “... a body?” “Not that! Look at you!”

"I don't even know how to change a diaper!"

“Kicking already?!”

“You're clingy.” “As you used to say, It's just the hormones.”

“Can we try the 'having sex to try and induce labor' thing?”

“I'm excited to see you changing a lot of dirty diapers in the near future.”

“I have stretch marks now.” “Keep them, looks good on you.”

“Nicky would love to be a big brother.”

“Using my sentences against me?” “Feels good, doesn't it?!”

“I'm craving sunflower seeds.” “Hun, you just had a huge cherry tart.” “I don't see your point, Aggie.”

“I have to do my job, Agatha!” “Fuck your job! You're carrying our offspring! Think about them! About us!”

“Do you think these babies were a mistake?”

“I think, this could be a second chance for us.”

“Do you think they'll be afraid of me? The real me?” “They're going to love you completely, cariño, just like I do.”

“Winifred? Circe? Agnes?” “Ugh, definitely none of those.”

“Since when do you paint? Wait- that's me? Uh, I look big.”

“What's the reaction of the souls you collect seeing Lady Death with a seven-month bump?”

“I'm not obligated to socialize with other pregnant women every time I go out! Why they don't stop talking too me?!”

“The bump is in the way, we can't have sex.”

“Your kids have been kicking me all day!” “Oh, so they're mine now?”

“How many babies are we having? There is enough clothes for a 100 of them.” “It never hurts to be prepare.”

“I think I'm in labor.”

“You're doing great, cariño, great.” “You aren't helping me!”

“Make it stop!” “Shh, you're almost, they're almost here.”

“Hiya, hun. It's me, your mama.”

“Look at these fingers, sweetheart, how can they be real? They're so, so tiny. Is it normal?” “It's normal, love, twins are just that tiny. Here, hold her.”

Babies/Toddlers dialogues:

“They look identical to you!” “I don't know what you're talking about, that mouth isn't mine.”

“Mami’s got you.”

“Who’s the cutest babies in the world? You are! Yes, you are!”

“I don't remember you pushing this babies out.”

“Oh we do make cute babies.”

“How many coffees is that?” “You try having two babies who refuse to sleep.”

“I'm not afraid of anything.” *twins start crying at the same time* “Maybe one thing.”

“Take a break. I’ll stay up with them.”

“So… the girls are fine, I want you to know that first, they're absolutely fine.” “What did you do?”

“If they won’t stop crying in a minute I think I am going to start crying.”

“Wakey wakey sunshine, it's your turn to change one of them.”

“I’ve never heard her cry like that..” “I tried to keep her calm but, she's missing you.”

“You have your mama's eyes, muñequita.”

“And she stopped me and asked me if I was going to take the girls to be baptized. Can you believe it?!”

“I took a baby's soul today. She was months old, like our girls.”

“Look how cute, they're crawling!”

“I hate sleep. I hate feeling sleepy. I hate sleeping.” “Yes, yes, cariño, now go to bed.”

“They're smiling...” “I told you, they'd never be afraid of you.”

“Stop wiggling! I need to get you changed!”

“If you lay a hand on my child you will lose the hand.”

“Skull lovers. Really take after your mama.”

“Hush little baby, don’t say a word, mama has a headache and your crying hurts.”

“Are you day drinking?” “It’s lemonade, not whiskey.”

“Please don’t vomit on me. Please don’t vomit on me. Please don’t… You vomited on me.”

“You're dripping blood everywhere!” “Sorry, is there a place you'd prefer I stand and bleed?” “The bathroom. It's easier to clean up and to keep the girls away.”

“Don’t give your mama too much trouble.”

“Nah-ah-ah, do not eat that, hun!”

“No daycare, Agatha, there's no way! It's the third time in the week that she ripped out an animal's soul, imagine a child!”

“Whiskey, brandy, wine or water?” “Pour me a glass of water and I may be one leaving this time.”

“Come on little one, walk over to mama!”

“Mami, ma-mi.” “Mami!” "... Agatha, she said mami first!"

“Throw your food around one more time and there will be consequences!”

“How did she get there?” “Get down from there little lady!”

“Come on, hon-” “No.” “Pero, muñequita-” “No, mami!”

“I already want one more.” “Let's see how we're handling these two.”

“Te amo!” “... Did she just?”

“Don’t, don't run, honey, you'll fall– I warned you.”

“Di mami, ma-mi.” “Mami!” “Eso, muy bueno, mi chiquita!”

“Cariño, she's unwittingly torturing a squirrel's soul again.”

“Fuck!” “Fuck.” “Nooo. Don’t repeat that, it’s a naughty word. Your mama won't like it.” “... Fuck!”

“Please never become one of the angry teens in the sitcoms.”

“Sweetheart, catch her! She ran away from the bathtub again!”

 “That's a grown-up grimoire, sweetie, why don’t you hand this to me. Yea, that's right, carefully-”

“Mami's bony face!” “Ey, chiquita- Stop laughing, Agatha.”

“Okay, time to sleep.” “ ’nother story?” “Sweetie, I just read you a story.” “Witch's Road!” “Witch's Road!” “Ugh fine, you win, the story or the ballad?”

“You know, i’m kind of surprised your children aren’t seriously injured at this point with you two being their parents.” “Haha, yeah… yet.” “What do you mean not yet?”

“My daughters are more talented in magic than me and they're only two years.”

“It’s your turn, go on.” “They’re your daughters before four o’clock in the morning.”

“My little girl’s better than yours!” “It's not a competition.” “Who said?”

“Mama! Look at me!” “Yes, hun, wh- WHAT THE FUCK?”

“Girls, let go of my dagger, mama won't like this.”

“Fine, fine, rock, paper, scissors to see who has to go calm down her.”

“I don't know how I survived with you cooking.” “Is this how you thank me?” “For burnt pancakes? Yes.”

“Was she crying, because of this?!” “Looks like someone's attached to mami's bony face.”

“Purple!” “Yeah, muñequita, it's mommy's watercolor, spread on the couch.”

“I've caught her watching you when you're outside and I think she's been shy about asking you to take it with you to the garden. You could probably let her help you with your garden.” “She’s just two, Aggie. What if she eats dirt, or worse, the flowers?”

“Agatha, I swear— If we have a child while the others are in diapers I will murder you.” “Why are you saying that?” “I'm feeling something, probably maternal intuition.”

It's probably not what many of you expected, but I always think it's cute to imagine Rio, who's Lady Death, Death itself, giving birth, you know?

Living all this confusion and mess that's pregnancy. It would be cute and funny, the effects of pregnancy on someone considered as powerful as Rio, all the dilemmas of motherhood, after all those centuries, after losing Nicky, and after the pain she and Agatha felt. It's not like I think pregnancy fixes or saves a relationship, that's not the baby's job, who has no responsibility for being there and existing, it's the parents' job to understand each other, and that's exactly what I wanted to explore with agathario here. A few domesticity years and a few adorable daughters.

This all takes place in 2009, and I'm still going to write about them during this period of pregnancy, and probably when the twins were little too.

-

AAA's full of angst but let's see the happy side of all!

We gained so much with them, and I LOVE this couple so much, they made history!

So let's enjoy a little and save our tears before the last episodes!

[zoe-oneesama]

On a serious note, why do you not like Derision? I mean, I can guess why, but I’m genuinely curious to hear your thoughts (if you want to).

What have they done to my boy?!

I guess we'll start with the whole "trauma" thing since that's how the episode starts - with Marinette going on a date with Adrien at the pool but constantly getting heart palpitations at the very idea of it. And not good lovey-dovey crush ones like Sabine thinks. The Actual Panic Attack kind.

This just feels unnecessary AND too late. Unnecessary because there are plenty of pre-established reasons why Marinette could be hesitant to go all in with Adrien (Being Ladybug, the 354th other times going for Adrien has failed or left her humiliated, Being Ladybug). So I don't know why they invented a trauma for her in the final hour and didn't think it was worth talking about before now?

They really came up with this whole scheme to explain why Marinette does Marinette things, like learning Adrien's schedule, planning out everything before she tries to make a move, needing to know everything about him, as if the show hasn't been mocking her for these exact traits and allowing them to blow up in her face over and over again. But NOW it's due to her TRAUMA. So...retroactively when her friends laughed at her or slapped their foreheads in frustration or the show framed her failures as a joke...we know it's actually from a tragic place and can't laugh anymore.

I mean, I was never laughing, but you get what I mean. They framed it like it was part of the comedy and now they're pulling the rug out from under themselves. How are you supposed to laugh when Adrien brings Marinette constipation medicine, or when her pictures of him are blasted all over Paris Television, or the *ugh* Statue Scene plays out and now you know that this is just adding to her pre-existing trauma? They have shot the show's rewatch value.

I never thought Marinette needed a "reason" act the way she was because those were always just kinda The Things Teenage Girls Do when they have a crush. I've admitted in the past to learning my crush's class schedule just to orchestrate running into each other in the hallways more often, and if their crush had public interviews and magazine pictures, I'm pretty sure most kids would also cut out their pictures to keep and would read and remember the interviews. I never really saw her behavior as that weird for a girl her age with a crush and recognize some cartoon exaggeration.

...Stealing his phone was a little weird, though, I'll give them that though Alya is the one who suggested it first...

SO, we enter a long flashback to One Year Ago (with Marinette now on her third Almost-Akumatization, good lord) and learn what life was like for Marinette pre-Origins, and oh boy. It's hell. She's making up illnesses to avoid school, avoiding all contact with anyone in the courtyard, having cockroaches put in her locker, having the Principal catch her "late" for class (after she had to clean herself up from a water prank), gets yelled at by the teacher for being late, sits in paint, mocked in class and then yelled at again by the teacher for pointing out the person mocking her probably planted it, and gets Saturday detention. All in one day. And when anyone tries to talk to her or even glares at the person responsible, they get threatened too.

The main reason this is hell is because Marinette is being let down by every single adult in her life. Sabine just laughs and tells Marinette that she only has a few weeks left with Chloe and it's not like she'll be in the same class as her next year.🙃 Well, why don't you make SURE she doesn't?! Maybe this is just an American vs French school thing, but where I come from, it's totally within your rights to request that your child not be put in the same class as someone else, they could at least put in a throw away line about her parents TRYING to move her, but Chloe's not allowing it JUST to keep Marinette close to her. And maybe take this a little more seriously, Sabine- your daughter is faking illness to avoid One. Girl. That should be concerning, not "lol my daughter is so silly for trying to get out of class."

Damocles finds Marinette and yells at her for being "constantly late" and praising the "anonymous notes" (signed by Chloe -_-) for always alerting him when she's behind, and then later gives her Saturday detention for...someone clearly planting paint on her desk chair? He sees a victim of bullying and punishes her for it. At the end of the episode he even suspends Socqueline for something that happened outside of school, yet in "Jubilation" she's pumping him up as The Best Principal?! Does this show thinks we're stupid or something?!

Mendeleiev also yells at Marinette for being late. She allows Chloe to make fun of Marinette for looking depressed when she comes in and allows Chloe to mock Marinette for sitting in paint, but when Marinette doesn't even stand up for herself but just accuses Chloe of putting the paint there, THEN Mendeleiev has something to say, and it's to Marinette? For "groundlessly" accusing the only person in the room laughing at Marinette, the one who was just making fun of her, the one who kept her eyes on Marinette so she could watch her sit in the paint?

Marinette tells Socqueline that all the adults are scared of Chloe, but that's not what I saw. Sure, at the end of the episode Damocles is afraid when Chloe pulls a "Lady Wifi" to force him to punish Socqueline for smashing Sabrina's phone, but the sequence of events played out more like the adults participating in the bullying. It wasn't like Damocles was sympathetic to Marinette and then Chloe cleared her throat, so he straightened up nervously and started berating Marinette. It wasn't like Marinette accused Chloe and then Chloe glared at Mendeleiev, forcing her to finally intervene. All the adults see what's going on and are either completely oblivious or don't care.

Also, Chloe totally unprompted says this:

GET A LIFE, what is your PROBLEM?! Like, why have a flashback episode and not have it explain what Chloe's fixation on Marinette even is?! It doesn't have to be big or anything! Like, have Marinette trip and spill something on Chloe in art class! Just do something!

And like, I totally get that irl bullies just choose their targets for no real reason and this is just another example of that, but to this level?! Just...get a hobby!

And then there's the big thing they did in this stupid episode. The unforgivable. The reprehensible.

This fucking guy.

It's been so long since we've seen Bully Kim that I was pretty sure he was left behind entirely on the draft floor. Sure, Kim is still capable of being insensitive or not thinking long-term, but he was a good kid. He roots for his friends and wants everyone to have a good time.

Hell, I could even buy that Kim was dumb enough to believe Chloe when she claims what he did was a funny practical joke that they'd all laugh about later...until Socqueline came up and yelled at him that he should be ashamed of himself.

And Ondine yelled at him in the present that he should be ashamed of himself.

And it's a year later and he should have realized by now that he should be ashamed of himself.

Kim is dumb, that's just a fact, but the way he doubles down and is so sure of himself that NO it's everyone ELSE who has a problem because they can't take a JOKE? Like...why?! Why did they co-sign on this character assassination?!

Just make him become akumatized because he's A S H A M E D of what he did now that he's finally sitting down and thinking about it a year later! He can keep the same look and motif, just have Monarch stroke the part of him that doesn't want him to be the jerk, the old Kim! It's totally normal, especially for a kid, to want to believe that they're not the bad guy even with all the evidence pointing to it, so I could even see the akuma being exactly the same.

But naur, it's KIM who talks like a right-wing podcast douche bag, complaining that you can't just speak your mind these days and everyone needs to get a sense of humor, they just don't GET it man, this is just how he IS brah, take it or leave it! His akuma's even named "Dark Humor", like edgy losers on reddit who make racist/sexist jokes and then get mad when he's downvoted and boo'd out of a forum. God, we just CAN'T TAKE A JOKE I guess.

I'm glad this is resolved by Ladybug gluing a toilet to his head.

I just...I feel like this could've worked in Season 1, or Season 2. Like...put it before Dark Cupid or before Syren or something. That way, Kim being a total douche is the starting point of his character arc, not the Season 5 Post-Hero Run point, ugh.

It'd also make this stupid line make more sense:

I'm sorry, the girl who got you akumatized after she humiliated you in nearly the same way you humiliated Marinette? I guess that was "just a prank bro" too, right?

Establish Marinette's problems with romance early, so she can overcome them or at least give them the proper context. It'd at least make the show look better if they hadn't made fun of her for 4 Seasons only to drop this bombshell on us at the end. You know...the thing that they just did.

This episode just isn't fun. I hated "Illusion" because all you get to see is the bad guys winning and outsmarting the heroes, but "Derision" is a marathon of seeing the absolute misery Marinette was put through, just to jump forward to the present to destroy a character that I really liked.

Would a kid even like this episode?

[haza8877]

A brief overview of your love path in 2024

Hello everyone, these days I've been quite busy, and now I'm back. I've been thinking a lot about topics for readings. And then, I thought I would do a short love reading first. So, I decided to do this reading, hope you all will like it. Consider this reading as entertainment and don't take it too seriously. I wish you all enjoy it.

Pile 1 - Pile 2 - Pile 3

Pile 1

(the star, 8 of pen, knight of wands, 3 of swords, ace of pen, ace of wands, oracle cards - house 8, house 11)

I sense that you are putting a lot of focus on your work. You are enthusiastic and hopeful about a bright future, and what I perceive is that you are dedicating much time and attention to a specific job, project, or idea that you are currently involved in. Mainly, I see that you are concentrating on work, a project, or a particular idea rather than romantic relationships. However, I can see that this year, you will encounter a person who is younger, or regardless of their age, they radiate youthful, dynamic energy. They are proactive, creative, full of ideas, and carry the energy of a Fire sign. They're pretty hot, haha. But please consider carefully, as when you come together with them, there will be a lot of attraction and passion between you (both physically and emotionally). However, they may trigger some of your deep-seated wounds, the ones you have long forgotten or buried. When this person appears, these wounds may resurface. Perhaps the universe has arranged for both of you to meet so that you have to deal with these wounds that cannot be avoided. It seems to be challenging, but facing and overcoming these wounds is inevitable sooner or later. You should understand that confronting these wounds is the key to moving forward into a new chapter of life. The universe often reserves rewards for courageous warriors. I sense that the relationship between you and this person will be intense, full of various emotions. They will help you discover new aspects that you might not have thought about. I am not sure where this relationship will lead, but it will undoubtedly transform many things, and perhaps it will upgrade you into a new version, expanding your relationships and connections with different communities. It will be fascinating.

Pile 2

(the tower, the star, ace of swords, 3 of pen, 5 of wands, knight of pen, oracle cards - yin)

I feel like those in pile 2 have gone through an extremely challenging period, where everything came suddenly and turned your life upside down. Currently, I sense that you are doing better and full of hope for this year, perhaps seeing it as a year to start anew. I feel that those of you in this pile need to clarify your desires more; if you are in a relationship, be candid about what you want from the other person, your thoughts about them, your emotions, etc. If you are still single, be honest with yourself about what you truly need in a person. Like, ask yourself how you want to accompany someone? What will you learn from them? Are you ready to accept risks, competition when being with them or not? Moreover, with the oracle card, I feel you should enhance your feminine energy, which is not related to your biological gender. Regardless of your gender, inside you always have both masculine and feminine energy. Connect with your inner world, with your intuition, and trust it. You can spend time walking in nature, if you live in urban areas with few trees, you can do activities like painting, knitting, playing with pets, meditation, planting a small pot of plants, or having an evening tea and reading a book. There are many ways to enhance your feminine side. In general, create a clear and authentic model for yourself. After you know what kind of partner you want, someone will enter your life. They might be someone who knows what they want, with certainty and caution, someone patient and devoted, exuding the energy of an Earth sign.

Pile 3

(page of pentacles, 9 of swords, 6 of wands, page of cups, the fool, the devil, oracle cards - scorpio)

I sense that the energy of those in pile 3 is quite exhausted; you may be facing some psychological or health issues, experiencing headaches, insomnia, stress, etc. I feel that you are practical individuals, always contemplating before deciding anything, seeking safety and certainty. However, I also sense that you are still inexperienced, somewhat naive, so sometimes you place your trust in the wrong places or make choices that don't lead to the expected results. But what I sense about the energy of love for you in 2024 is 'freedom,' yeah, a fresh energy, like a rebirth, gentle, uplifting, and free. I'm not sure if you will meet someone this year or not, but I think the core energy of your love is freedom, exploring yourselves. After heavy days burdened by pressure, suppressed emotions, I see that you will want to experience fun dates, not too serious in terms of commitment, just looking for new experiences. Perhaps you want to travel somewhere, where these journeys help you understand yourself better. You may also feel a desire to be more creative. Well, it sounds like you will be dating yourself this year, hahaha. Maybe among you, some will date someone, they may be younger than you or around your age. They are emotional, vibrant, carefree, and enjoy experiencing things. They may have the soul of an artist. If you and they progress in the relationship, there will be a lot of physical passion, intense emotional relationships. They bring a different energy than what you have thought, opening up new experiences for you, and you will be carefree and free like a child. However, since the reading doesn't clarify whether this relationship has a long-term commitment or not, let everything flow naturally and don't expect too much. Whether you meet someone this year or not, I sense that when you overcome the psychological difficulties, liberate yourself, 2024 will show you how beautiful and free your soul is. Explore yourself; you can be cautious, but don't worry too much about new things. Listen to the emotions from your heart, let your soul be like clouds, and you will see the vast sky.

Thank you all for watching my reading; I hope you enjoyed it. I also apologize for not being able to answer all the questions in the previous mini tarot game section, but rest assured, I will answer all of you remaining. Thank you for your support.😘💖💖💐💐🌸🌸 

[montimer]

I've seen a lot of people do nurse and guard readers with the Joker. As someone that has to stay at a mental clinic themselves, I wanna ask if you could do some Headcanons for a fellow inmate!reader ?

If something is incorrect, im sorry! I never been to one but i try my best to make this close to reality. Also i hope you are okay now =] / ♡\

Joker x inmate!reader

Gn!reader, ending is a bit yandere. Could be any joker but i'll go with tnba one

Because of your mental state you were taken to the only place in gotham that was avaliable. Arkham asylum

You weren't crazy no. But there was no where else that you could be taken to. Or so your therapist said so.

Arkham was, something else to say atleast. Sure they got the basic medication and group therapy, but you where also surrounded by villains and other crazyes that would kill to get out.

The doctor kept a check on ur progress, you attended those therapy groups, you did your best to stay away from too dangerous people.

But it wasn't so long till he took a notice of you. The joker.

He first saw you trough his windowed cell. Staring at the new patient. He thought you were just another lost case. Oh but how wrong he was.

The more he saw you, the more he wanted to go up and talk to you. Sadly to him the guards made sure to keep him at his place.

But he had his first chance to talk to you when most of the patients could just chill in the "living room" (im sorry idk how its called lemme show a pic)

(Lobby?? Idk)

As he came in the door most of the patients moved as far aways as they could. You looked up to see who it was that they were so afraid of and you swear your heart just skipped a beat. The joker himself standing at the door, a pleased smile appeared on his face, proud of the fact that many fear him so much. Why he gotta be here of all places?

The guards standed aside and as his eyes landed on you, an even bigger smile appeared on his face and he made his way to you.

You took your time to observe him as he walked towards you. He had white pale skin, his lips painted red, his spiky hair was dark green. He wore the same simple clothes as the other patients. You never seen him up close.

If he tries anything you'll just call for the guards, you tried calming yourself knowing theres no escape. You quickly grabbed a magazine infront of you from the table and started acting like you are busy.

Once he reached you, he sit down next to you on the couch.

He peaked over your shoulders. "What'cha readin'?" He smiled at you.

"Oh, uhh just some magazine.." you said still staring at the page. After not getting a response you looked up at him nervously.

"Ah finally, face to face" he slowly took the magazine out of your hand.

"Whats your name sweets? Haven't seen you around here before." He hold out his hand. "C'mon don't be shy, i don't bite"

"Im y/n.. just got here like a week ago yeah" you shook his hand.

"Y/n? I like the sound of that. Well, you know my name don't'cha? Incase you don't, im The Joker."

"I know, the prince of crime?"

"The one and only!" He said smiling back, happy with your knowledge.

"You are not crazy, so why are ya here?" Interested in you he asks.

You explain your situation and he nods.

"Ah yes, gothams best cure for the mentally ill is throwing them into an insane asylum" he says mockingly while looking at the guards

You giggle at that and it gets his attention. "Finally, a good audience. Haven't had one in so long" he smiles at you.

The two of you chatted for a while. You actually kind of enjoyed his company.

He made lots of jokes and whenever you laughed or even giggled a bit, it made his chest feel all warm and fuzzy. He didn't know how to took it in but all he knew is that he wanted to see you smile and laugh more.

After he ranted about how crappy this place is and he is planning his escape, he asked more about you. Listening to your voice, taking in the details of your face. He haven't had such nice and calm talk in so long. Let alone have anyone listen to his ranting.

The fun didn't last long as the guards made their way to take everyone back to their room/cells.

He looked up at the guard angrily but went anyway. He took one last look at you as he was dragged away.

After that he absolutely loves seeing and talking to you. At the cafeteria, at the rooms. Whenever he can, he'll be around you. The others warn you about him, but to you he seems so sweet in person, only to you.

He slowly realizes he has fallen for you in your staying.

He is extremely clingy and protective. Asking if anyone is annoying you or needed to be 'taken care of'.

He'll wave at you from his cell, calling out to you.

He makes silly attempts to flirt and you just giggle at it, not thinking much about it. But to him, to him it means so much.

But then the time comes when you are finally let out. Before that day you tell him about it happily, so proud of the fact that you can go back to your home. He frowns, you are leaving? Forever?

Oh but he quickly regains his smile. Hes gonna make his escape and will do anything to find you. After all you said you live in gotham, and he can easily find his targets. Atleast now he won't have to wait too long to meet you. No one will interrupt him.

He is already planning his confession and will send lots of gifts to your house. You didn't really think you can get away from him so easily, did you?

He loves you so much, you are his darling, the sweetest! The only one for him, even if you don't know yet...

Silly you, belive you him, your gonna love it with him.

Now he just needs to take you to his hide out to explain. Hopefully you'll understand ;]

[yuff7e]

So I imagine a Reader and Bakugo are neighbours and their parents are friends so she’s known him since they were children but he dosent really care— anyways going to the future, reader confessed to Bakugo in middle school however since he dossnt get much attention from girls since they always ignore him he didnt know what to do and just reject her harshly, little did he know he started to develop feelings and it got worse when they both moved to UA💀.

How do you think he would handle the crush thing and treat the reader before or after the war?

˗ˏˋ 𝐘𝐎𝐔’𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐀 𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐃 ´ˎ˗

𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

hey everyone!! sorry i've been a bit inactive lately; things have been a bit hectic. but i'm back!! i hope you all enjoy this short one-shot of our favorite 💥 boy finally realizing he has feelings (what a shocker, i know). hope you're all having an amazing day or night, wherever you are! :) ఌ︎

♬♪ -> lıllılı.ıllı.ılılıı the url isn’t working ? :(

the sky was painted with the warm hues of the setting sun as bakugo katsuki walked back to the dorms of ua high school. he had just finished an intense training session, his muscles aching in a satisfying way. but his mind was far from the usual satisfaction he got from pushing his limits. instead, it was occupied by thoughts of you, his next-door neighbor and childhood friend.

he remembered the day in middle school when you confessed your feelings to him. the memory was etched in his mind, clear as day. he had harshly rejected you, not caring about girls or their feelings. back then, his only focus was on becoming the number one hero. he had told himself that relationships were a distraction, and besides, girls were usually scared of his brash personality.

yet, as he walked, he couldn't shake the feeling that something had changed. you had changed. he had changed. it started slowly, almost imperceptibly. a lingering glance here, a flutter in his chest there. at first, he chalked it up to irritation. you were always hanging around, always smiling, always making him feel things he didn't want to acknowledge.

but now, years later at ua, those feelings had only intensified. he found himself seeking you out, looking for your approval, your laughter, your presence. it frustrated him to no end. he was bakugo katsuki, damn it! he wasn't supposed to be distracted by anyone, let alone a girl he had once rejected so callously.

arriving at the dorms, he saw you sitting on the steps, your face illuminated by the fading sunlight. you looked up and smiled as you saw him, and he felt that familiar flutter in his chest. he scowled to hide his discomfort, but it was a poor disguise.

"hey, bakugo," you greeted him warmly, standing up and dusting off your skirt. "long day?" he grunted in response, avoiding your eyes. "what are you doing out here?" you shrugged, your smile never wavering. "just enjoying the sunset. it's nice to take a moment and relax, you know?"

he didn't respond, his mind racing. how could you be so calm, so unaffected, when he was a storm of emotions inside? he clenched his fists, the frustration bubbling up. he had to say something, anything, to clear his mind.

"why are you always so damn happy?" he blurted out, surprising even himself. you blinked, taken aback by his outburst. "well," you began slowly, "i guess i just try to find the good in everything. life's too short to be angry all the time."

"that's stupid," he snapped, but there was no heat in his words. he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "you... you're always around, and it's... annoying." you raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. "annoying? how so?"

he groaned, hating how he was fumbling with his words. "you just are, okay? ever since middle school, you've been this... this presence. and i can't get rid of you." you chuckled softly, and the sound made his heart skip a beat. "well, i live next door, so that's kind of hard to avoid."

he took a deep breath, his frustration giving way to a strange sense of vulnerability. "that's not what i mean," he muttered, looking away. "i mean, you're always in my head. i can't stop thinking about you, and it's driving me so damn crazy."

silence stretched between you, and he dared to glance at you, fearing your reaction. but your eyes were soft, understanding, and a small smile played on your lips. "katsuki," you said gently, using his first name, which only made his heart race faster. "are you saying you have feelings for me?"

he bristled at the directness of your question but couldn't bring himself to deny it. "yeah," he admitted gruffly. "i guess i am." your smile widened, and you took a step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "it's about time you realized it."

he stared at you, dumbfounded. "what do you mean?" "i've always had feelings for you, katsuki," you said softly. "even after you rejected me. i never stopped caring about you."

his heart felt like it was about to burst. he had been so blind, so focused on his goals, that he had overlooked what was right in front of him. but now, standing here with you, he felt a sense of clarity. "i was an idiot," he admitted, his voice low. "i didn't see what was right in front of me."

you laughed lightly, the sound music to his ears. "it's okay. you're here now, and that's what matters." he looked into your eyes, finding a warmth and acceptance that he had never known. slowly, almost hesitantly, he reached out and took your hand, holding it tightly.

"i'm not good at this," he warned, his voice uncharacteristically soft. you squeezed his hand, your smile reassuring. "we'll figure it out together."

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the world in twilight, bakugo felt a sense of peace he had never known. with you by his side, he knew he could face anything. and for the first time, he allowed himself to embrace the feelings he had kept hidden for so long.

requests : open

[clavissionary-position]

Meanwhile on the Achroite-Obsidian border...

Gilbert: (painting the snow red with All These Corrupt Nobles)

Matias: (watching from atop a wall on his side) You...!

Matias:

Gilbert: (calls up) You look like you have something to say! Unfortunately, I'm still within 5 cm of the Obsidian side.

Matias: (holds up a ruler and squints) 6 cm! You lied to make yourself look worse, you criminal!

Gilbert: Hehe, did I? Well, it's all just numbers in the end. I don't know how many times I have to tell you this, Matias, but we're not so different, you and I.

Matias: (panicked-thinking) Please don't say that please don't say that please don't say that please don't say that please don't say that. I am not a monster, I am Matias.

Matias: I have no use for clichés. Only justice. What you are doing is a gross abuse of authority. All people deserve to be tried fairly in the court of law.

Gilbert: Even if the Obsidian Royal Family is the law?

Gilbert: And I've seen what you do in your so-called courts. Handing down the sorts of extreme sentences that you do is its own abuse of power, right?

Gilbert: You're giving those people false hope they might get off, either free or with a lighter sentence, but it's a foregone conclusion, isn't it? You're just toying with them. Whereas I do my sentencing up-front with little fuss.

Gilbert: In fact, what I'm doing here is simply saving the people their tax dollars by expediting the process.

Roderic: (pauses killing spree) Exactly! He's an ally to the taxpayers!

Matias: Can we not have this philosophical debate while you're mid-stab?

Gilbert: Oh no, Roderic is the one doing all the stabbing?

Roderic: I am! I do all the stabbing! Most of the time! I'm the actual villain!

Gilbert: No one is a greater villain than me. If such a person exists, they're not long for the world I seek to forge.

Gilbert: Also, Matias, if you're flinging around wild accusations like that in your day-to-day work, then I think that makes you far worse than me.

Matias: That's what all the preparation before a trial is for! We have never mistakenly...

Matias: (panicked-thinking) OH GOD BUT WHAT IF

Matias: Stop what you're doing, Gilbert.

Gilbert: Giving you an existential crisis or excising these rotten limbs from the body of my country?

Matias: Both, if that is at all possible.

Gilbert: You're free to try and invade my country if you want jurisdiction over these... (kicks a noble) ...things.

Matias: (grits teeth) I'd rather not have to rely on force.

Gilbert: Are you scared of my army?

Matias: I fear no such thing.

Gilbert: Even if we were to invade tomorrow?

Matias: You won't. There's a blizzard tomorrow. And our snowshoes are better.

Matias: The second you step foot into Achroite, I'll have you arrested for improper footwear.

Gilbert: That's too bad. It kind of sucks that you're telling me about that in advance, though. You could have had me beheaded for improper footwear.

Matias:

Gilbert: Hehe, but I like that about you, Matias. For all your flaws, you at least try to play fair. There might be a place for you in my new world yet.

Matias: Why do I feel like I'm caught in the middle of some unseen war between gods.

Matias: (checks his watch) Oh! It's time for my tea-party delusion! What to wear, what to wear...

[xenocorner]

(If you're someone who enjoys my work, and also happens to like/support AI generated images, please give this a read? Just hear me out, please. This is not a bashing post, I promise. It's not pro-ai either though. But please hear me out)

This whole AI art stuff is just getting... Honestly exhausting. If you are someone who supports AI generated images, I beg of you, hear me out? I'm not here to bash, to say you're a bad person or a thief. I know it's more complex than that. I'm just, trying to express how I feel about this whole ordeal. I'm not here to get angry either. I don't have the energy for that. I'm also not trying to change your mind. Just, hopefully help you see/feel a different perspective? That's all.

Long rant under the cut because. There's a lot.

I'm not even angry anymore. I don't have the energy for that. But I keep seeing AI images all over, everywhere. The thing is getting better (because of course it is). And I see more and more people support it. And sometimes those people are also artists or people who like art and support artists.

And then I also see artists be laid off. I see how it gets harder and harder to make a break in the industry. And even after you make it you get laid off because... People don't wanna bother with it anymore. Corps would rather cut costs.

And then I see people defend AI images. Say it's okay, that it isn't stealing from artists, that it is just a tool, ignoring a huge part of the problem (whether willfully or not).

And it just makes me so incredibly sad. So utterly devastated.

I was angry. I really used to be angry. I'm just hurt now. Hopeless for the future. And tired. Really really damn tired.

Tired of artists having to justify their existance in the professional world. Tired of people just saying... No.

No, you don't get to thrive. And you're selfish and entitled for wanting to thrive. No, you don't get to feel hurt when your work gets scrapped without your permission to feed a data base designed to replace you. No, you don't get a say in this. Don't like? Bohoo, don't see.

Well, how can I not see when this issue directly affects how I live? How can I not see when this issue affects my future? It's not just a matter of "Don't like x kind of content, don't interact with it". It really is not. I really wish it was, I wish it was that simple. But it's not. Because this is not something like a ship or a trope that one can ignore and not be affected. This is like trying to ignore a dumpster fire in your neighborhood. Yeah, you can avoid looking at it. You can avoid talking about it. But the smoke is still getting into your house. You're still breathing it. It's still hurting you. It will have effects on your life, whether you like it or not.

I threw away 12 years of my life building up my skill to work in a field that feels like it's dying out. Am I (and countless other artists) just supposed to start over? How? Time is unforgiving.

Bohoo for your bad choices, suck it up. Your fault for pursuing art as a career.

Was I supposed to just, KNOW, somehow, that the career I choose, that used to be viable, would just... Take this turn? Was I supposed to have a 10 year look into the the future?

You should create for the joy of creating!

I do. I love creating. I love making people happy with my work. Work I spent years perfecting. It's the most beautiful feeling in the world to know that someone smiled or cried or felt something because of something I did. It makes me smile and cry too.

But I also like to be able to eat. To have a roof. To pay for my meds. And the joy of creating honestly dwindles each time I see people talk about AI images the same way they talk about a painting in the Louvure.

Becaus they do. I've seen people talk about images generated by a machine (built upon stealing artwork from unconsenting artists) like they're the work of God. And they write such beautiful things too. And I'm left baffled, confused, uneasy.

And then I go to see artists, living, breathing, feeling artists, who create marvelous pieces, who pour their heart into their work, who shed sweat blood and tears to get their skills to where they are, who are still shedding sweat blood and tears to keep improving... And they don't even get a 'nice'. They've been job searching for 3 years. They can't get a steady flow of commissions. They're scrambling to be able to get a table at a con.

And it hurts to my very core.

It hurts in a place I don't even know how to describe, because it's so deep and so personal and so raw that I don't think there's a name for it.

I love art. I love it so damn much. I love making it, I love sharing it, I love teaching it.

I think many other people love art too. I think many other people who love art don't even consciously realize they do.

And it hurts seeing art just... Become this.

It hurts seeing the artistic souls of this earth be pushed down and down again and again over and over and be told to just. To just suck it up.

To die off.

Because when people support AI images, they are telling us to die off. It feels like they are telling us to die off.

And I don't think the people who do realize it at all, because a lot of people who support AI images are not bad people. They are not. They enjoy art too. But they are, consiously or not, directly or indirectly, hurting the artists whose work made the data base AI generators use possible.

They're telling us to die off because they already have our work. And they can use it to generate new, regurgitated work faster, cheaper. They don't need us. So while they may like what us, artists, do, they're feeding a system that is killing us off. Both metaphorically and literally. Metaphorically by killing the will to create. Literally by taking our living off of us (or at least to those who's art is their living. Like myself).

And again.

It hurts so damn much.

And I don't think a lot of people manage to see the hurt past all the anger.

I, personally, have grown exhausted and there's no anger left in me, only sad and hurt.

But I promise you, behind every angry and fighting and barking and bitting artists there is out there, there's hurt. There's some form of hurt behind each and every one of them. Of us.

I really hope this reaches the right people. Whether that be a fellow artists struggling to get their feelings into words to let them know they're not alone. Or someone who supports AI images, and supports artists too, and can maybe get a glimpse into a side of this whole issue. Not necessarily to change their mind but, maybe help them understand better where all the anger from artists may be coming from.

Please, I'm not here to start any fights or debates. I really am not. I just need to get this sort of thing out there, because I think talking about it is important.

[sapphos-darlings]

There's something I've been thinking a lot recently, about how lesbianism is truly a unique sexual orientation even among other minority ones, and how that affects our art and writing that should be about self-expression. Lesbians are so far in the margins, being first women, then a minority of women by being same-sex attracted, and then a minority of those ssa women by being exclusively ssa. That's not even mentioning other factors that might intersect, such as race or ability. This can leave us feeling isolated and scrambling for support and allies, and in my opinion, one can compromise too much while struggling to be understood, and even lose important parts of yourself in the quest for solidarity and inclusivity.

So, what I want to say to my fellow lesbian writers and artists:

Be bold.

Be honest.

Be unapologetic.

Question your motives and biases again to make sure you're not holding yourself back. Don't let yourself become your own lesbophobic call-out-poster or a narrowminded critic. Don't chew up your ideas, opinions and creativity just so some hypothetical audience would have easier time swallowing it.

Don't shrink back and lie to make your art appeal to others. Dare to prefer women and lesbians. Dare to put lesbians first. Dare to center lesbians. Dare to center lesbians like you and focus on topics that are important to you.

Personally for me becoming the loud and self-centered lesbian writer has meant that I've started to write lesbian/lesbian couples without feeling the need to "be fair" in terms of representation. I've started to write about explicitly homosexual experiences, where women love women not "despite their sex" but because of it, and are sure and happy about that.

I no longer cloak lesbian sexuality in "soft sapphic vibes" or leave it without a clear definition. I've started to exclude men from the women's stories. I've shed the need to include heterosexuals in main roles, even other women.

I started to exclude hyper feminine tropes just because I don't like them. I started writing masculine women and butches without worrying they are "too much". I create lesbian characters who are flawed, in pain, evil, complex and unlikable, and put them in thrillers and horror without worrying about crossing a line into that dreaded "too much".

I've pushed down many invisible walls by examining the ways I've people-pleased and shied away from how strong and unique the lesbian experience is.

Behind all those walls are stories I really long to tell, the kind that resonate with me, the kind I want to have in this world.

And I know no one else is going to depict lesbians like we do ourselves. No one else is going to tell our stories like we do, or paint us like we do, so let's stop wasting time pleasing others and start telling our own stories - unfiltered and proud.

[colins-bridgerton]

penelope & colin playlist

a year ago by james arthur

i wish it was a year ago i wish that i could hold you close now i'm driving past your house, i know the lights are on, you're not alone i wonder if you're making eyes i wonder if he loves you like the way you said that only i could do i wish that i could tell you that I miss you

ghost of you by seconds of summer

too young, too dumb to know things like love too young, too dumb to I drown it out like I always do dancing through our house with the ghost of you and i chase it down with a shot of truth that my feet don't dance like they did with you

far away by nickleback

i wanted you to stay 'cause i needed i need to hear you say that i love you i loved you all along and I forgive you for being away for far too long so keep breathing 'cause i'm not leaving you anymore believe it hold on to me, and never let me go

oceans by seafret

it feels like there's oceans between you and me once again we hide our emotions Under the surface and try to pretend but it feels like there's oceans between you and me i want you i want you and i always will it feels like there's oceans between you and me

give me a minute by the coronas

and i can't remember how we got so wrapped up in it hold on i'm not finished just give me a minute i'm not finished and if you don't mind i can live with it just a minute i'm not finished would you be so kind just to forgive it

can i be him by james arthur

i heard there was someone but i know he don't deserve you if you were mine i'd never let anyone hurt you no no I wanna dry those tears, kiss those lips It's all that I've been thinking about 'cause a light came on when i heard that song and i want you to sing it again i swear that every word you sing you wrote them for me like it was a private show

before by ulrik munther

before we burn each other up before we lose our minds before i'm not enough for you baby I need some time before you break my heart oh before we need to talk before it even starts i mean i'm sorry i didn't call

you're loosing me by taylor swift

how long could we be a sad song 'til we were too far gone to bring back to life? i gave you all my best me's, my endless empathy and all i did was bleed as i tried to be the bravest soldier fighting in only your army, frontlines, don't you ignore me i'm the best thing at this party (you're losin' me) andi wouldn't marry me either a pathological people pleaser who only wanted you to see her and i'm fadin', thinkin' "do something, babe, say something" (say something) "lose something, babe, risk something" (you're losin' me) "choose something, babe, i got nothing" (i got nothing) "to believe, unless you're choosin' me"

deep end by birdy

i don't know if you mean everything to me and I wonder, can i give you what you need? don't want to find i've lost it all too scared to have no one to call so can we just pretend that we're not falling into the deep end?

love me or leave me by little mix

and love me baby please cause i could still be the only one you need the only one close enough to feel you breathe yeah I could still be that place where you run Instead of the one that you're running from, ooh you, can take this heart heal it or break it all apart no, this isn't fair love me or leave me here

cross your mind by calum scott

tell me, do i ever cross your mind? do i ever keep you up at night? thinking 'bout what coulda been if we did it all again i've been trying to keep an open door even though you've got the locks on yours tell me even after all of this time do i ever cross your mind like you cross mine? do i?

wrong direction by hailee steinfeld

loved me with your worst intentions didn't even stop to question every time you burned me down don't know how; for a moment it felt like heaven loved me with your worst intentions painted us a happy ending every time you burned me down don't know how; for a moment it felt like heaven and it's so gut-wrenchin' fallin' in the wrong direction

loves you like i coudn't do by dunacan laurence

i hope you find that someone who'll love you and it feels like all that you wanted thought it would last if we just kept running we played our hand, now we're left with nothing hope you find that someone who'll hold you In a way that i always wanted to a hundred shots, but we kept on missing there's no regrets, 'cause we tried, my love I hope you find that someone who loves you like i couldn't do

a little bit yours by jp saxe

you found someone new, before me and you didn't try nearly as hard and maybe that's the problem i don't know how to take it away from you without giving someone else my heart all I do Is get over you and i'm still so bad at it i let myself want you i let myself try i let myself fall back into your eyes i let myself want you i let myself hope i let myself feel things i know that you don't you're not mine anymore but I'm still a little bit yours