#It just came into my mind and I had to draw it

[missdynamighttt]

Hihi!! This has been on my mind recently, so reader having a hyena quirk and instead of the loud laugh hyenas do she's just a loud person...wonder what she's like in bed with Katsuki

katsuki knew you were loud. hell, you were the loudest person he’d ever met. it came with the territory of your hyena quirk, that wild energy always buzzing under your skin, making you unpredictable, untamed, and if he was being honest—insanely hot.

his grip on your hips tightened, his breath coming out in ragged pants as he slammed his dick into you, but it was your voice, your moans that were really wrecking him.

they were raw, uninhibited, echoing off the walls with a force that could break them down. it wasn’t just pleasure, it was something primal, something that made his blood thrum and his instincts scream to take you even harder.

"shit, you're so fuckin' loud," he grunted, burying his face in the crook of your neck, but there was no real complaint behind his words.

"can't help it," you barely managed to gasp out before another drawn-out moan tore through you. "can't help it, i swear—"

with a wicked grin, he flipped you over, driving into you deeper, relishing the way you absolutely wailed in response. if you were gonna be this loud, he might as well make it worth it.

your hands clawed at his back, legs locked around him, and he swore your throat had to be sore by now with the way you were screaming his name.

and somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew that the neighbors were definitely gonna complain.

"the hell, woman—" thrust "—you tryna let the whole damn building know how good i fuck you?"

but he lives for it, even if he pretends otherwise. the way your quirk makes your pleasure even louder, raw and untamed, strokes his ego like nothing else.

"maybe i want them to know, 'suki—" a wicked grin curling your lips, your voice wrecked but defiant. "wanna make sure they know who's fucking me this good."

katsuki groans, his hand snakes between your bodies, fingers finding that sweet spot, applying pressure on your clit. "makin’ me fuckin’ crazy with that noise, baby."

at some point, he tries to muffle you. hand over your mouth, biting at your shoulder, but your quirk won't let you hold back. and honestly? he doesn't really want you to. even if the neighbors complain later.

you think he'd care? nah. fuck it—let them.

he’s too damn proud knowing that he’s the only one who gets to make you like this.

your body arches as he slams into you, your moans reaching a pitch that could probably shatter glass. his pace is brutal as he chases both your highs, completely lost in the way you writhe beneath him.

with one punishing thrust, your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, your scream raw and uninhibited as it rips through the room.

the way your walls clench around him has katsuki cursing, he barely manages a few more deep, bruising thrusts before his own release slamming into him right after, burying himself deep inside you.

he rides it out, hips stuttering as he grinds against you, drawing out every last tremor until you’re both left boneless and panting.

for a moment, there's only the sound of heavy breathing, sweat-slicked skin pressed together. katsuki presses a lazy kiss to your shoulder, utterly spent but undeniably smug.

then—

bang bang bang.

"are you kidding me?!" a muffled voice yells from the other side of the wall. "some of us have jobs, you fucking animals!"

you barely manage to wheeze out a laugh, body too exhausted to do much else. katsuki just grumbles, rolling onto his back and dragging you with him.

"guess we should check the mail tomorrow," you tease breathlessly, nuzzling into his chest.

he huffs, running a hand through his damp hair. "tch. let ‘em complain. ain’t my fault you can’t keep it down."

but when you wake up the next morning and open the door, there it is.

a bright red notice of NOISE COMPLAINT taped to the front:

"keep it down or get evicted."

you snort, waving the paper at katsuki. "told you they’d say something."

his only response? a devilish grin as he grabs your wrist and yanks you back inside.

"guess we better make it worth it."

‎‧₊˚✧[ it's me, kia ! ]✧˚₊‧ ｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ ‎‧₊˚✧[ more of katsuki ! ]✧˚₊‧

[lokisswiftie]

Worship

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Spencer’s never been one for religion, but with his head between your thighs he finds a solace he’s never known.

Warnings: Smut!!, Sort of Switch!Spencer?, written with s2 Spencer in mind, Oral (F receiving), vague shitty religious metaphors, Spencer being an absolutely pussy whipped

A/N: guess who’s back with more smuuuuut. It’s me. This one came spilling from my hands faster than you can believe, so enjoy. As always, requests are open!

__________________________________________

Spencer’s face buried between your thighs is the closest thing you have to heaven.

Since the first time he offered to eat you out, having Spencer use his mouth on you like this has become one of your favourite things. It happened when you’d come home from a horrible day at work, and you were being snippy with him. It wasn’t personal, Spencer knew that- but frustration was a curse.

He intended to take it away- and take it away he did. Dropping to his knees in front of you that day with an offer you couldn’t deny. Spencer knew just how to steal your breath- and your worries- away with just his mouth. He pulled you from your low mood to a high that breached the heavens.

The sight of him with those beautiful brown eyes fixed on you, while he latches his mouth onto your sensitive clit is divine. The way your slick drips down his face afterwards has got to be holy, you decide. You felt guilty once, for him to give you so much pleasure like this- but that worry was quickly replaced in your mind by Spencer’s wonderful tongue pressing inside of your aching cunt.

As for Spencer, well he was hooked the moment he tasted you on his tongue. Despite having offered this to you, he never expected to enjoy eating you out as much as he did. In fact, the first time you came from just his mouth, it took him a moment to realise that it had caused his own orgasm. The wet patch on his boxers afterwards had prompted shy laughter from your lips, which soon dissipated into moans.

The only issue with his new found obsession? He craves your taste constantly. For a man whose mind is capable of incredible things, recently he finds it’s almost always focused on your cunt. The amount of painful boners he’s been forced to suffer through in silence at work are pathetic, but he can’t seem to care. Not when your cunt is waiting for him when he gets home, wet and aching for him like always.

Like today, when a day at work was filled with just files- one of the rare times that the BAU wasn’t on a case. Sure, it was a relief to most to be getting the rest but for Spencer, hours of focusing on files was causing his mind to drift. At some point he found himself zoning out staring at a file, thinking about you on his tongue. It took someone coughing nearby to snap him out of his fantasies about you, and he reluctantly returned to his files.

At the end of the work day, Spencer practically races home to your apartment and he doesn’t bother feeling embarrassed at how desperate he is when you open the door to him.

“Spencer!-“

His name just makes it out of your mouth, before Spencer’s locking his lips with yours in a desperate kiss. It feels to him like all the weight has been taken off his shoulders. You moan into the messy kiss and he steps into the apartment, guiding you further back and closing the door behind him without breaking the kiss. When you finally Part from him so you can get air into your lungs, Spencer’s needy whimper pulls a laugh from you.

“Well, hello there-“

You say breathlessly, your hands coming to push his blazer off of his shoulders. You expect this to move to the bedroom, and you're shocked when Spencer drops to his knees in front of you. You lock eyes with his pupils, dilated and needy. Drawing your bottom lip into your mouth while he gently places his hands on your hips over your sleep shorts.

“Can I?-“

“Please.”

You can’t confirm fast enough and Spencer’s grin does nothing to hide the ravenous look in his eyes. He gently removes them, and when the shorts and panties are discarded he guides your leg over his shoulder. Your breaths are coming in short puffs, chest heaving at the sight of him staring between your legs.

“God-“

He groans, and he can’t stop himself from connecting his lips with the skin of your inner thigh. He feels like a worshipper before some great deity. As his lips Rest next to your wet core, he decides you may be the only thing he’d worship like this. You watch as Spencer licks a long stripe up your cunt, collecting the wetness for himself with a pathetic moan.

“Spencer!-“

You whimper his name, your hand coming to grasp ahold of his chocolate curls and gently direct him closer. He happily complies, and in an instant he’s leaving wet kisses on your clit. You don’t think you can possibly get more aroused with Spencer’s tongue flicking over your sensitive bud- but you look down and find yourself proven wrong. Spencer’s mouth is soaked in your juices and his eyes are closed like he’s lost in the moment. This is his heaven, you’re sure of it.

Soon, Spencer can’t take it anymore and his hand comes down to palm at his hard length through his slacks. He moans into you and presses his tongue against your dripping hole. He can feel the pulse of your heartbeat against the tip of his tongue as it moves in circles over your clit. The moans he pulls from you are almost definitely heard by your neighbours- but neither of you care.

“Oh god- oh god Spencer I’m gonna come!-“

You whine out, your head lolling back against the wall with a dull thump. Motivated by your proclamation, Spencer intensifies his movements. His mouth is working overdrive, dipping into your hole and swirling in tight circles around your clit. When Spencer looks up at you and captures the look of pure ecstasy on your face, he has to refrain from going slack jawed at the sight. He’s pulled back to Earth when you come with a cry over his mouth.

It soaks the bottom of his face, and your legs tremble so hard he has to hold you up. The sight is so beautiful to him, and the way you moan out his name has Spencer coming in his pants not long after you. He moans against you, and it fades into pathetic whimpers as your hand grips his hair.

When you both come down from your highs, Spencer clumsily places your foot back on the ground. You look down at him, with his face resting on your thigh and a smile like the sun on his lips… that, and copious amounts of your come on his mouth.

[sunnytheopossum]

“Protecting Me From Myself”

(Ramblings & WIPs below cut!)

Who, me? Making Marble Hornets content? Never.

But actually, I have no idea what came over me with this. A few days ago I watched the entirety of the School Rumors webseries, and became so completely obsessed with it that it triggered me to watch and rewatch literally every analog horror series I could find to feel that high again, including, of course, Marble Hornets. And obviously, I can’t watch Marble Hornets without also watching Clear Lakes, and also Eckva, and then of course I HAD to read all of the comics again… (cough) and also some fanfiction (cough), and long story short, I put off a whole day’s worth of homework for tomorrow to work entirely on this all day. Will that come back to bite me? Almost definitely, but I don’t regret it, because this turned out cool as heck!

So… upon further reflection I realize that the concept behind this piece doesn’t make a whole lot of sense in canon? I was just thinking about Tim and Masky, as usual, and how (through the lens of a character frequently seen by the fandom as having DID) it is very interesting that Tim, in that altered state of mind, always forgets what happened as “Masky”, as if he’s protecting himself from what he’s seen, and how Masky could then be viewed as a sort of protector for Tim, even if he also frequently puts him in dangerous situations… and then I remembered halfway through drawing this that literally every single character in this stupid show has memory loss, and that that’s a very well-established part of the lore relating specifically to The Operator, not Tim, and it’s really not as deep as I was making it out to be in my head. So, uh.. feel free to interpret this artwork however you’d like, because you have as good an idea as I do now about what it’s supposed to represent lol

[bewaryofpity]

okay wait i said this before but i have more to add, so pls disregard the last one, sorry 😭

so, i feel like luke would be into free use, but you using him. all you'd need to do is tell him you want him and he's unzipping his jeans or moving down the waistband of his boxers. he'd be so whiny, muttering, "that's it, pretty girl, use my cock," and whimpering when you keep going after he'd cum to overstimulate him all while mussing his curls 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

nonnie you’re so right, it’s giving slight switch!luke too if i have to be honest 👀

like, maybe he’s tired but not that tired not to fit a quickie in before bed. and truthfully all he needed was your sweet voice to get hard.

“i know you’re tired baby, but i want you so bad right now.” you whispered in his ear as he you raked your hands through his hair, his head in the crook of your neck. and you didn’t have to say much else that he’s lying on his back, bringing you on top of him to straddle his waist. he kissed up your neck, taking his time to taste and suck on your skin.

“just use me,” he says while gently sitting you up. “get yourself off, it’s fine, please.”

your mouth hung open as he fumbled with the zipper of his jeans before tapping your thigh, motioning you off to pull them off. he was desperate, so desperate to feel you around him that he was begging you to fuck him. just use me, he said, and you couldn’t believe it. luke, who liked to be in control, who loved every time he saw the way your body shuddered against him, who loved sprawling his hands on your stomach, your back, your neck, and feeling your small body tremble. that luke just wanted to be used and let you take control.

he dropped back down onto the bed and you rose up so he could pull off his pants and boxers. “are you sure?” your voice was small, hesitant, but he just nodded eagerly. 

you smiled at his change of character and started teasing his cock by rubbing your clothed cunt on it. he looked so good underneath you —sprawled out, hair tousled over his forehead, eyes hooded and bottom lip between his teeth as you kept rolling your hips on his length.

luke grunted when he felt pre-cum leak onto his stomach, your movements spreading it all over your underwear too. he was under your control now, you could tease him, bring him to the edge and not let him come, draw as many orgasms out of him as you could. your mind spiraled over the newfound power you had over him and you didn’t know where to start.

you pushed your panties to the side, feeling your own slick drip down his cock. you got up on your knees and stroked his length, coating it with both of your wetness before slipping it past your entrance tantalizingly slow. luke closed his eyes and lazily pushed his hips upwards to meet yours but your hands came to rest on his abs to still his movements, and you kept riding him at your own pace, for your own pleasure.

“that’s it, pretty girl,” he groaned. “use my cock.”

and that made you jolt, your cunt squeezed him tighter, your legs closing as his words sinked in. use me, that’s all he wanted you to do, to use him like you pleased.

it didn’t take long for you to bring your fingers to your clit, circling it as your hips sped up, rolling and jumping up and down his length. you peered down at luke and the sight brought you right over the edge. mouth parted and eyes shut you almost thought he was asleep if it weren’t for the breathy moans and whimpers escaping his lips.

his fingers dug deep into the skin of your thighs as he chased his own high, almost grounding himself from how hard he came inside of you, his cum pooling at the base of his cock.

“baby,” he whined as you kept your movements steady. his hands came to grip at your hips, to stop you or guide you on he didn’t know. but your second high already started to creep up and you couldn’t stop now.

you rode him at a fast pace now, enjoying how luke squirmed and wiggled underneath you, his abs clenching at the overstimulation. he was helpless, barely able to move his tired and overstimulated body and it was all driving you insane, you couldn’t get enough of the state he was in. you were lost in a trance and hypnotized by his mewls, his soft moans, his whimpers. they were music to your ears.

you ducked down, trailing kisses up his neck to his jaw, before landing on his lips. your tongues lazily moved in sync. your hand reached for his hair, combing through his curls as you felt him writhe, his own orgasm approaching.

“oh luke,” you said, your thumb caressing his red cheek. “shh, you told me to use you, no?”

“it’s too much.” he murmured, but there was no begging for you to stop, he was loving it. and god, he didn’t last long once again as your cunt squeezed him tight before moving off him to stroke his dick. you wrapped your hand to tease at his tip, ropes of cum spilling all over your fingers and his stomach. 

“fuck.” luke cried and took his lip between his teeth, almost drawing blood, eyes shut tightly. 

panting and out of breath, he finally took a deep breath in as you removed your hand from his cock. he was in a state of bliss, almost in heaven, though his body was completely sore.

and oh my god he wished he didn’t open his eyes when he heard you moan. your fingers, the same fingers completely coated in his cum, rubbed at your clit to reach your climax, plunging them into your core as more of his cum spilled out of you. maybe he could go for a third round, fill you up again. it didn’t seem like you’d complain, you were already looking back at him with a devilish smile.

[ddarker-dreams]

A Deal's a Deal II.

Yan Chrollo x F Reader

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, descriptions of anxiety and emotional/mental manipulation. Word count: 4.1k.

Prev

You met Chrollo at an old hole-in-the-wall bookstore that housed archaic texts. 

There was little information on your condition, but what material did exist hid itself beneath allegory and ciphers. The best leads came from high strangeness circles. They expanded on Jung’s concept of the collective unconscious, drawing parallels between historical records across cultures and periods that all implied some system that transcended physical limitations. Whether it came from alchemists like Paracelsus, mystics like Crowley, or authors like William Blake, hints of this system can be found sprinkled throughout history. 

Chrollo informed you that this system is commonly called ‘Nen.’

Before him, the nomenclature eluded you. You simply regarded it as a phenomenon best kept to yourself. The world’s a weird place, filled with inexplicable things that the human mind can’t always comprehend. This handheld device, which you nicknamed Instant Replay, is the foremost example.

You were always aware that you knew things you shouldn’t have. As a child, it perplexed you. Why do people sometimes sound weird? A few trips to the audiologist proved your hearing is perfectly fine. When this avenue didn’t provide answers, you ended up in counseling, where you reenacted the dilemma with dolls. For a while, you insisted that what you heard was real. It frustrated you to no end that the adults in your life either dismissed you or offered bromides. 

As an adult yourself in the present, you can’t blame them for being at a loss. 

You smartened up eventually. What you once blabbed about to anyone who would listen, you kept to yourself. This eased the tensions at home. Your parents seemed happy that the issue had ‘resolved’ itself and you maintained the illusion. Playing pretending could only do so much — the core problem remained. Your mind made the connection that when another was being dishonest, that’s when their voice would sound strange. After you realize that, there’s no going back. The epiphany changed how you interacted with others for better and for worse. 

“You want to get rid of your ability?” he sounded surprised when he asked. 

“How could I not?” you replied. “People lie… a lot. Friends, family, strangers. And, okay, that might not seem bad, but imagine always being aware of it. It— It eats away at you. Wears down your ability to trust. I have to act like I’m none the wiser, knowing full well someone just lied to my face. I don’t want to know! I’m tired of knowing!” 

“You’re unable to control when it’s active?” 

“Instant Replay lets me ‘review’ audio, both in real-time and after it’s been recorded. I have control over the latter, but that’s it.”

Your antagonistic relationship with Nen fascinated Chrollo. According to him, most people were intentional when it came to crafting their Hatsu. There are very few cases like yours where Hatsu is subconsciously given shape and form. You wish your subconscious had created something more useful, like a sword. That would’ve been cool. 

“Could I learn a new ability to oust Instant Replay?” you wondered. 

“Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way,” Chrollo dismissed. “In theory, it is possible to learn different abilities, although your inexperience would make that difficult. There’s no way to erase an ability either. You can, however, lose access to it. For instance, there’s my predicament, or…” 

He leaned in close and whispered: 

“... Someone could steal it.” 

-

Chrollo looks out of place in your apartment.  

It’s a cozy, lived-in space, full of trinkets that he thoughtfully examines as if he were in the Louvre. Meanwhile, you prepare two cups of tea. Chamomile with honey for you and Earl Grey for him. After setting the timer for five minutes, you realize there’s not much else to do but wait. The silence is unusual and unnerving. Anticipation thrums through the air like an electric current. You feel it coursing through your blood; tingling along your skin. 

The barstool you’ve chosen as your perch groans against the wooden floor as you pull it out.

Chrollo picks up a picture for closer inspection. You crane your neck, curious about which snapshot captured his attention. It’s from a night out with friends. Empty plates and drinks littered the table and each of you crowded in close to fit into frame. Since the restaurant was high-end, you were dolled up, adorned in an outfit that rarely saw the light of day. 

“Swarovski?” He sounds amused. 

“I’ve been known to splurge on the occasion,” you huff. “The necklace was on sale and the earrings were—” 

You cut yourself off, although you’re unsure why. It shouldn’t be a taboo topic. Nonetheless, beneath the weight of his gaze, you couldn’t get the word out. 

“—From an ex?” He offers. 

You nod. 

He returns the picture to its proper place, a cryptic smile on his lips. “So even you aren’t above materialistic impulses, hm?” 

“There’s a difference between rampant consumerism and buying yourself something nice on occasion,” you retaliate, disliking the edge of mockery in his voice. “I don’t need to hear this from the dude wearing a silver Rolex watch.” 

“It’s white gold.” 

You roll your eyes. “A camel through the eye of a needle.” 

“‘First cast out the beam out of thine own eye.’” 

“Do you seriously have the entire King James version of the Bible memorized?” 

“It was one of the most accessible texts in my youth,” he says, his smile softening into something pensive. “The missionaries were far more generous with those showing signs of ‘progress.’ I tried helping my companions memorize the more significant passages, but they weren’t what you’d call ideal pupils.” 

Missionaries? You purse your lips and consider the implications. Had Chrollo grown up in destitution? Come to think of it, you know very little about him or his background. Unlike you, he never volunteered the information. He skillfully maneuvered around any inquiry into his past. The most you’ve gleaned is that he’s a traveling antiquarian who, in pursuit of valuables, made some enemies along the way. 

The shrill shriek of the timer rips you from your thoughts. 

Chrollo accepts his mug with a “thank you” and sits on the rightmost side of your coach. After plopping two ice cubes into your concoction, you join him, leaving ample room between you. The nerves from earlier return. He’s an easy man to converse with, but when his mind is preoccupied — as it most certainly is now — you’re at a loss. Do you try reinitiating banter? Opt for a completely different topic? Or should you let him initiative, squirming around until he breaks the thickening tension? 

“Have I held you in suspense long enough?” Chrollo asks while holding his hand out. A book with a handprint on the cover appears, the pages flipping too fast for you to gauge their contents.

The quality of his aura temporarily stupefies you. This must be the difference between a novice like yourself and a genius. You can muster up enough aura to summon Instant Replay, but that takes considerable effort. To him, managing the flow of aura comes as easy as breathing. You scooch closer to study his technique. How long would it take you to match his expertise? Years? Decades? 

“I’ll get bashful if you keep staring at me like that.” 

“Liar,” you accuse without any real malice. 

He chuckles.

“Give me your hand.” 

Heat rushes to your face as you recall what happened when you last parted. “D-Do I have to?” 

“Yes.” 

Hesitantly, you do as he requests. He maneuvers your hand against the conjured book’s cover. You gnaw on your bottom lip, trepidation brewing inside your soul. You thought you’d feel relieved when this moment came. There’d be some butterflies, yes, but that would quickly give way to relief and exhilaration. The thorn that’s been in your side all these years is finally coming out. Your quid pro quo has reached its conclusion; this is your reward, your ticket to a normal life. 

“I like you too.” 

“I’ll be there whenever you need me.”

“It’s okay if you come.” 

“I promise I won’t tell anyone.” 

“We’ll always be together.”

Yes, people lie a lot. Sometimes, you’re unsure if they’re even aware of it themselves. They lie to you, the people they love, the people they hate, and themselves. Fate decided you’d be made witness to their folly, sewing your lips shut and eyes wide open. The wounds it left behind are intangible and incurable. How do you heal what you can’t explain knowing to others? How do you explain your hesitation, shift in demeanor, and inadequate coverup? 

The sound of Instant Replay whirring reverberates throughout your skull. 

Chrollo speaks your name softly. You startle, realizing that you’re blinking back tears. 

“I—” 

“It’s alright,” he reassures. The words sound crisp — genuine — soothing your budding concern that you’re inconveniencing him somehow. In an instant, the hardcover dissipates, leaving your hand flat against nothing. Chrollo takes the opportunity to come closer. When you don’t protest, he completely closes the distance, until you’re thigh to thigh. 

He smells good. Intoxicatingly so. 

“Show me the ability you despise so much, dear.” 

Dear? You think to protest the emergence of this nickname, yet you can’t bring yourself to. Instead, you follow his order, mechanically lifting your arm and summoning your ability much like he had. 

“Good. It’s almost over with,” he brushes the wetness away from your eyes with his knuckles. Your heart leaps at the contact. “Finally, I have to ask about your ability. There are so many possibilities… what to choose, what to choose… ah.” 

With the same hand that wiped away your nascent tears, he cups your cheek.

“Do you trust a man like me with such a dangerous ability?” 

“I have my reservations,” you respond. You don’t miss the amusement he derives from your candidness. “This sounds bad, but… at this point, I guess I just don’t care.” 

For a moment, all is still. There’s no odor of sulfur, maniacal cackling, or declaration that the ritual is complete. You didn’t have to sign a contract in blood or swear an oath to an infernal being. Your overactive imagination ran numerous scenarios through your head. The lack of flair over this life-defining moment is almost underwhelming. You frown, fearing that there was an error somewhere along the way. If there was, he’s given no indication, yet you’ll remain restless until the results are confirmed. 

“Chrollo?” 

“Hm?” 

“Did it work?” 

“It did, love.” 

“Could you, um,” you lick your lips, a motion that draws his attention. “Make something up so I can know for sure?” 

This request amuses him.

“How will you know if I’m being honest to mess around with you or not?” 

At this, you give him a light shove. Given his apparent playfulness, you expected him to move back, but he doesn’t budge an inch. It felt like trying to move a concrete building. 

“Make it an obvious lie, then.” 

“An obvious lie, hm?” He mulls over your suggestion. “Very well. How about this: I don’t want you beneath me.” 

You gape at him, dumbstruck. 

“I find it easy to control my urges around you.” 

He keeps going. 

“I’m unmoved by your beauty…” 

He gently pushes your shoulders until you’re lying down. 

“... Your wit…” 

He hovers above you, tracing the outline of your lips with his pointer finger. 

“... And boundless charm.” 

Chrollo tilts your head up by your chin. “Well? Do you believe me now?” 

Slowly, as if in a daze, you nod. Your heart lurches, the organ beating loud enough to hear in your ears. You feel uncomfortably warm, like your heater’s been cranked to the highest setting. Gradually, the violent joy you expected to accompany your liberation abounds, starting at your chest and overflowing outward. You’re smiling, breathless, your corporeal form barely able to contain the glee. You see your reflection in Chrollo’s eyes. There’s a manic quality to your countenance; you barely recognize yourself. 

You’re free, you’re free, you’re free— 

His lips find yours. Your cognition short circuits, leaving you in a reverie where you can barely understand what’s happening. He handles you so carefully that it’s easy to forget you’re physically trapped. He carries on, either failing to notice your apprehension or disregarding it. 

On some level, you’ve always sensed this underlying attraction. You remained purposefully obtuse. There was too much at stake — jeopardizing your aims for a fling felt counterintuitive. On paper, he’d make for the ideal partner. He’s devilishly handsome, charismatic, and intelligent to a fault. Aside from some dubious morality, you couldn’t ask for a better suitor. 

And still, hesitation prevailed. 

Every now and then, there’d be glimpses of some great, existential threat, beneath the fissures of his porcelain mask. These glimpses gave you pause. You think he could’ve tried harder to hide these damning qualities, yet chose not to. Where’s the fun — the thrill — in always playing nice? You needed his help more than he needed yours. His connections spanned continents, whereas yours were shallow and easy to uproot. 

How many of your convictions would you compromise? 

How far would you let the poison spread to cure another affliction? 

How can you look down on him if you’ve fallen to the same level? 

When he pulls away, you avert your gaze, fearing what stares back. 

“... So you are afraid of me, then.” 

Chrollo lets you wriggle out from underneath him. When your eyes make brief contact, it feels like he’s inspecting you, as if you were a specimen in a petri dish. It isn’t the reaction you’d expect from a rejected man. Nonetheless, you’re on edge and longing for a menial task to occupy yourself with. Recalling the state of the kitchen, you decide that will suffice. 

He remains seated as you wash and dry the implements used to make your tea. 

This uncharacteristic silence unsettles you further. The only audible sound in your apartment is your faucet, the water running over silverware that’s plenty clean. You scrub at it harder, wondering what you should do next. Originally, you intended to thank him for his pivotal role in removing your burden. You never would have made it this far without his assistance. Even with this strange atmosphere, your gratitude remains unwavering. 

You’ll be able to live life like anyone else now. It’s an accomplishment worthy of celebration, regardless of the twists and turns along the way. Maybe he misinterpreted your body language or acted on an impulse. These mistakes can happen when emotions run high. 

Okay, you think, psyching yourself up. This doesn’t have to be weird. I can—

“Have you given much thought over last week’s unpleasantness?” 

Your heart skips a beat and your shoulders droop. 

“I assume you haven’t,” he says. “That’s fair. It must’ve been frightening… I wish I could have spared you such an experience.” 

The appreciation he previously instilled in you desiccates, drop by drop. 

“Will you please get to the point?” 

Under different circumstances, you would’ve been more patient with his preamble, but this is a sore subject. A buried corpse like that shouldn’t be exhumed. His reasoning, though elusive to you now, doesn’t inspire warm sentiments. 

“That incident won’t be the last of its kind.”

You turn around as he approaches, sipping his tea. He leans against the counter and eyes you over the cup’s rim. 

“In truth, we should’ve left hours ago, but I was feeling sentimental.” 

“‘We?’ Chrollo, what are you talking about?” 

“Had it not been for your role in getting my Nen back, Hisoka would’ve killed you,” Chrollo says this so casually that you question if you’re hearing him right. “Now that you’ve done your part, he has a vested interest in doing so.” 

You no longer have a way to verify if he’s telling the truth or not. It’s so stupid, so unfair, that you almost laugh. Instant Replay no longer heeds your call. You surrendered it to a new master, who, before taking it from your willing hands, all but told you he was the worst person you could’ve picked. 

Chrollo continues, “He’s a peculiar case. All he cares about is fighting formidable opponents, and, with my Nen returned, I am one.”

You take a step back.

“That business is between you two. I fail to see how this involves me.” 

“I have preparations to finish before I face him,” Chrollo explains. “He doesn’t feel like waiting any longer. Harming you is an excellent way to speed things along. Even I don’t know what I’d do if you were fatally injured.” 

You shake your head. “I— you’re not serious. There’s just no way. I’m moving past all of this bullshit. Nen, Hatsu, whatever; that has nothing to do with me anymore. I’m done.” 

“I’m sorry, dear.” 

“No, you aren’t!” Your voice raises in pitch, pulled as taut as a bowstring. “You knew, didn’t you? That this would be a problem? Oh, oh, you had to, why else would you have acted all weird when you saw him? Stop looking at me like you care, like you’re sorry, 'cause this is the best-case scenario for you!” 

You pace back and forth, your mind racing. This was a mistake. Walking up to him because you recognized the book in his hands was a mistake. Is he bluffing? And if he is, does it matter? You can’t put up a fight. You don’t think you could even make it to the door. If he was a regular man, you’d have options. You could yell for help, call the cops, and inflict some damage, minor as it may be. All those tactics turn to ash before an oppressive, incomprehensible force like this. 

You snap your head in his direction. “Aren’t you going to say something?” 

“I don’t see how that will help.” 

You prepare to spew vitriol his way, when a dreadful thought shoots through you like a bullet. 

“My family. What about them? Won’t they be in danger too?” 

“They aren’t on his radar.” 

“How do you know that?” 

“Please don’t take this the wrong way,” Chrollo sets the cup down. “The suffering of your loved ones wouldn’t elicit a reaction from me, so he won’t bother. Targeting you is the wisest option.” 

Words fail you. Is this it? The depravity he kept subdued finally let loose, so dense in its quality that it threatens to suffocate you? All you wanted was a semblance of normalcy. Normal relationships, interactions, and problems. Has the path you’ve treaded brought you further away from this humble aspiration? Or is there still a way, some faint silver lining that you must find and latch onto? 

“What about after?” 

“Hm?” 

“After Hisoka is dealt with,” you clarify, tapping your foot repeatedly. “You’re not going to let him live, are you?” 

“That’s rather dark.” 

“Chrollo,” you implore. 

“No, I won’t,” he confirms. “As for what comes next — I intend to persuade you.” 

You regard him with suspicion. His tone and the implications sink into you like a venomous bite. He exudes quiet confidence, indicating that nothing you’ve said will influence him in any meaningful way. Dread sticks to your stomach, making your body feel heavy. You hug yourself, clenching your upper arms with shaky fingers. Any lingering excitement from earlier has vaporized, leaving behind a profound hollowness. 

“I suppose this can go a few ways,” you murmur. “I could cause as many headaches for you as possible, or, I could be decent enough.” 

“I’m listening.” 

“I’d like to have Instant Replay back,” you say. He quirks an eyebrow. “Just for a bit. What? I’m assuming if you can steal something, you can give it back, right?” 

“You’d be correct. Still, that begs the question; what are you intending to accomplish with this little scheme?” 

“Nothing that’ll inconvenience you in any major way.” 

Chrollo falls silent. You dig your nails into your flesh as the seconds drag on, awaiting his verdict. If he had your ability activated, he should’ve been able to discern your honesty. Then again, he’s aware of the workarounds. To ensure your words wouldn’t register as untrue, you had to remain vague and subjective. What you consider an inconvenience could differ drastically from him. 

“I’m sure I won’t regret this.” 

Your eyes widen. That dissonant timbre is unmistakable, he returned your ability! Filled with newfound resolve, you stride toward him, your eyes blazing. This is your chance. You need to make the most of this opening before it’s gone forever. He could choose not to answer any of your questions, but something tells you he won’t, like it’d injure his pride. You issued him a challenge and he’s intent on meeting it. 

“Did you have anything to do with what happened last week?” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Did Hisoka?” 

“No, he just happened to be observing you from afar.” 

“Why?” 

“For his personal amusement, I’d wager.” 

“He’d really kill me just to… agitate you?”

“It’s in line with his character.” 

You swallow thickly and press on. 

“And if you’re wrong?” 

“Then I’m wrong. Regardless, you’ll be alive and well.” 

“Can you win against him in a fight?” 

“Yes.” 

“And if you somehow lose, what happens next?” 

“My companions will hunt him down and kill him.” 

Now that you’ve gotten your most pressing inquiries out of the way, you decide to wade through dangerous waters. Chrollo likely saw the benefit in assuaging your doubt, these next questions provide him nothing substantial. His willingness to humor you is undoubtedly finite. Keeping this in mind, you consider the possibilities. You may never have a chance like this again. Is there anything that can give you an advantage? You’ll take anything, no matter how small, even if all it offers is an illusion of control. 

Chrollo glances at his watch in a not-so-subtle motion. 

“Who sealed your Nen?” 

“Now this is more what I expected,” he hums. His eyes take on a bright, unsettling shade. “An individual with a longstanding grudge. Your paths will not cross, I suggest adopting another plan of attack.” 

He saw right through you. You knew it was a long shot, but collaborating with this mysterious figure would have proven advantageous. They must be powerful in their own right to have bested Chrollo. Should you try pressing for more information? Then again, Chrollo doesn’t seem keen on sharing more, much to your chagrin. 

What does that leave you with…?

“How do you plan on ‘persuading’ me?” 

“You’re better off not knowing until we get to that point.” 

You frown. If that didn’t register as a lie, it must be what he genuinely believes. Curiosity plagues you, dredging up anxiety. You have but a few grains of sand left in the hourglass remaining. It’s suspended midair, poised to drop at the most ill-timed moment. The approach of the end is worse than its inevitable arrival. You now have the chance to hasten its onset, at the risk of being debilitated by the impact. What lows would he resort to? Are you actually better off remaining ignorant?

“Alright, let’s—” 

“Does it hurt to know I’ll never love you?” 

Up until this point, he’s fired back with a near instant response. This time, however, he hesitates, the invasive nature of the inquiry necessitating careful thought. You finally found an effective ‘attack.’ It’s too late to do you any lasting good, but you greedily devour it nonetheless. When dealing with a person of Chrollo’s caliber, it’s easy to forget he possesses the same human qualities you do. You might be unable to stop his heart from beating, but you can make the organ ache. 

“I can live with it, dear.” 

You pinch your eyebrows together, thrown off by his voice’s clarity. Is the knowledge that inconsequential to him? Have you misjudged his attachment? While considering this, you flex your fingers, concentrating your aura there. You can’t repeat his words back since Instant Replay wasn’t recording, but you still decide to conjure it. You’ll record what remains of this conversation to ensure you don’t miss anything else. 

The flow of your aura halts at your wrist, refusing to take form. Frowning, you try again, only to realize he must have reclaimed your ability. 

When did that happen? Was it before or after his response? 

Chrollo says your name, regaining your attention. “I fulfilled my end of the bargain. Will you do the same?” 

After playing the role of the interrogator, you’re back to being an inmate. You meant what you said — when you said it, that is. This is yet another loophole to subvert Instant Replay. What’s true to you in one instant can change in the next. It’s frightening how fast he’s learned these nuances that took you years to test and discover. He’s already making the most of your ability, turning what was a thorn in your side into a full-fledged dagger. 

“What choice do I have?” 

“There’s always a choice,” Chrollo asserts. “You just have a habit of making the wrong ones.” 

A delirious laugh leaves your lips. 

"... I suppose you're right."

[sinful-sonnet]

Elastic Desires

Reed Richard’s x F!reader (One-Shot)

(Size Kink, Stretching, Overstimulation, SMUT)

You always knew Reed was special, but you never fully understood what that meant until tonight. Sure, you had imagined it—wondered what it would be like to be with someone whose body could adapt, stretch, mold, and shift to your every desire. But fantasies were nothing compared to reality.

And right now? Reality had you trembling beneath him, your body on fire as he explored every inch of you with the kind of methodical precision only a genius like him could achieve.

Reed hovered above you, his dark eyes gleaming with something between curiosity and raw hunger. “I’ve been thinking about this for a while,” he admitted, his voice smooth, teasing. His fingers trailed down your stomach, his touch feather-light. “You, beneath me. Falling apart because of me.”

You gasped as his fingertips elongated, gliding down your thighs, teasing the sensitive skin with slow, deliberate strokes. He was everywhere at once—hands, fingers, lips—and it was too much and not enough all at once.

“Reed—” Your voice was shaky, needy.

He chuckled, stretching his hand until it wrapped around your wrist, pinning it gently above your head. “I want to take my time with you,” he murmured, pressing a kiss just below your ear, his lips warm, his breath hot. “But I also want to see how much you can handle.”

The moment you nodded, his fingers morphed—slender digits multiplying, teasing your entrance, circling your clit with slow, maddening precision. You gasped, arching into his touch, only to have another hand splay across your stomach, pressing you back down.

“Easy,” he murmured, lips curving into a smirk. “I want to feel every little reaction.”

And he did. His fingers stretched inside you, curling, twisting, hitting every spot at once. It was unlike anything you’d ever felt—waves of pleasure rolling through you, building faster, deeper, until you were clutching at his arms, nails digging into his skin.

“Reed, oh—fuck—”

His other hand wrapped gently around your throat, just enough pressure to make you shudder. “That’s it,” he murmured, voice full of praise. “I want to hear every sound you make for me.”

You were falling apart beneath him, completely at his mercy, and he knew it. He was relentless, fingers moving faster, stretching wider, coaxing you to the edge over and over—only to pull back at the last second, drawing a desperate whimper from your lips.

“Not yet,” he murmured. “I want to watch you break.”

You shivered as he shifted lower, replacing his fingers with something thicker, warmer—his tongue stretching, slipping inside, filling you in ways that shouldn’t be possible but felt so good you almost sobbed. His hands kept you still, his mouth working you apart, sending pleasure pulsing through every nerve in your body.

It was too much. It was perfect.

“Come for me,” he finally commanded, and with one final stretch, one final curl of his fingers and flick of his tongue, you shattered—your body tensing, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

Reed groaned as he felt you pulse around him, his grip tightening as he devoured every sound, every tremor. By the time you came down, breathless and shaking, he was smirking above you, brushing damp hair from your face.

“You okay?” he asked, teasing but still gentle.

You barely had the strength to glare at him. “You’re insane.”

He only chuckled, pressing a kiss to your lips. “And we’re not even finished.”

You were wrecked—shaking, gasping, and already oversensitive from Reed’s fingers, tongue, and everything else his genius-level mind had conjured up to unravel you. But he wasn’t done.

Not even close.

Reed hovered above you, his dark eyes sharp with hunger as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, grinning at your trembling form. “You’re handling me so well,” he murmured, voice full of pride. “But I think you can take more.”

You swallowed hard, barely able to form words. “Reed, I don’t—”

“Shhh.” He cupped your cheek, his hand stretching, fingers fanning out to cradle both sides of your face at once. “Let me take care of you.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before you felt it—the unmistakable press of his cock against your inner thigh. You hadn’t seen it yet, but you felt it.

And it was different.

Thicker. Heavier. Hotter.

You gasped, tilting your head back against the pillows as he dragged it along your soaked folds, teasing you, testing you. “Reed,” you whimpered, legs trembling. “That’s—”

“Big?” He smirked, pressing it against your entrance, just enough to make you feel the sheer size of him. “I adjusted it… just a little.”

“A little?” you gasped. “That’s not a little.”

He chuckled, bending to kiss you, slow and deep. “I’ll go slow,” he promised, his lips brushing yours. “I want to feel you stretch around me.”

You barely had time to prepare before he pushed in—not all the way, just the thick, swollen head—and already, you felt full.

“Oh, fuck—” Your head spun, your breath hitching as he inched in deeper, stretching you open in ways you’d never imagined.

He groaned, his jaw clenching as he forced himself to go slow. “God, you’re tight.” His hands slid to your hips, gripping you firmly as he rolled his hips, sinking another inch inside. “I can feel you clenching around me. Relax, baby.”

“Too big,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms. “Reed—”

“You can take it,” he assured you, stretching himself thinner for just a second to ease the pressure before letting himself expand again, pushing deeper, filling you more, more, more—until your walls stretched around him, accommodating his impossible size.

The burn was intense, a mix of pain and pleasure that had your body arching, thighs shaking. But then he moved, and your vision blurred with pleasure.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, voice thick with restraint. “You feel so good around me, baby. So tight.”

He gave you only a moment to adjust before he started moving—long, slow thrusts that dragged against every nerve inside you, stretching you in ways you didn’t know were possible. Every stroke was deep, deliberate, pushing into places no one ever had before.

And then he changed the angle.

“R-Reed—!” You screamed, your body tightening around him as he hit that spot—again and again and again—with pinpoint precision, his cock shifting, adjusting, thickening just to push against your most sensitive places.

“That’s it,” he groaned, watching you come apart. “Take it all.”

His arms stretched, wrapping around you, holding you still as he pounded into you, his control slipping as he grew thicker, longer, stuffing you so full you could barely breathe. Every thrust sent you higher, every stretch igniting another wave of pleasure that had your body trembling, climbing towards something devastating.

“Reed, I—”

“Come for me,” he growled, snapping his hips forward with one last, brutal thrust. “Scream for me.”

And you did.

Your orgasm hit like a tidal wave, crashing over you, leaving you breathless, shaking, clenching down so hard that Reed groaned, his own release following right after—his cock thickening one last time as he filled you, his body shuddering, his grip tightening around you as he buried himself deep.

The two of you lay there, panting, his body still molded around yours, cock still snug inside you.

Reed chuckled breathlessly, stroking your sweat-slicked skin. “See? You took it.”

You glared at him, barely able to think, let alone move. “I hate you.”

“Liar.” He smirked, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “Think you can go again?”

Your body shuddered at the thought, and he only grinned.

“That’s what I thought.”

[lavshaze]

Act of defiance

✧ contains ⤐ smut, once again <3 oral but not in the way you think. d/s dynamics, silco being a professional brat tamer, another vision that came to me in a dream, silco sex dreams are ruining my life but also making it way better. w.c ~ 1.2k

“Look at me.”

Usually, you’d obey. 

Orders from Silco weren’t uncommon, especially when you’re in the bedroom, lying under him in all your naked glory. Usually, this wouldn’t require a second thought— he’d say something and you would listen, and that had granted you five months of mind-blowing, life-changing sex. 

But not tonight. No, you'd give him absolutely nothing tonight. 

Stubbornly, you turn your head to the side, biting down on your lips as you pretend like this isn't happening right now. 

“Look at me.” 

Silco doesn't like when his words fall on deaf ears, you know it gets on his nerves because he's a little control freak. And up until tonight, you'd been so obedient, so eager to tend to his every desire, you'd have given him the moon if he asked, and you'd have continued to be as such if he didn't fucking piss you off. 

You scoff, keeping your gaze firmly planted on his bedside table. You read the titles of the books on display over and over, memorizing the colors and spines and which ones are a little crooked and which ones are finished, aged by the passage of time and the repeated strokes of slightly damp fingers. 

You could feel Silco seething on top of you. 

Hot breath warming the side of your face, you see his lips contort into a sneer from your peripheral vision. You're tempted to look at him, stare directly into his mismatched eyes and tell him to fuck off.

But before you can think to do anything, he pushes himself into you, one rough thrust that has you contorting every muscle in your body to ignore the white hot pleasure it sends through your entire being. You squeeze around him and sharply inhale, but you keep your head planted to the side. You weren't going to let him win this, you weren't going to give in. 

He groans, possibly at the way you feel around him, but also because your little show of defiance is probably causing him a great headache. Another exhausting day of running Zaun and he doesn't even get to enjoy having you all to himself, all because you're dead set on being stubborn. His bare chest heaves against yours, skin on skin, but you're determined to be as far away from him as possible. 

He moves slowly, pulling out all the way and easing himself back in, at a much softer pace than the first thrust, almost like he's apologizing. Too bad he sucks at actual apologies, you'd have crumbled by now if he had shown the smallest signs of actual remorse. But that's just who Silco is, stubborn till the end. 

Unfortunately for him, so were you. 

He sets a regular pace, entering you over and over again in a slow languid motion, nose burying into your neck trying to redirect your gaze so you'd look at him. When you don't budge, he draws back sharply, and you can tell he's all out of patience now. Silco is one of those people blessed— cursed— with patience that lasts for a total of five seconds. 

Especially tonight, especially after the long day he’s had. Didn’t you know that enforcing his power upon the other, increasingly annoying, chem-barons had put him on edge? Didn’t you know that he had thought of you all day, missing the way your face contorts when he’s inside you? Had you no idea that he is on the verge of falling apart if he doesn’t receive a healthy dose of your affection soon? 

Maybe you knew, maybe you just didn’t care. 

The thought angers him.

“I said,” long fingers grasp the side of your face, digging into your skin, “look at me.” 

He turns your head so you're facing him now, sharp glare boring into his dark eyes. He glares back, good eyebrow furrowing, and something else flickers in his eye besides anger— something warm and delicious and dangerously enticing. 

“You little defiant brat.” 

He spits it out like an insult. You observe his lips curl around every syllable of the word; brat, brat, brat, brat. 

“Always so obedient, always so eager to listen to me, to do what I ask of you. Who knew that under that little angel act you were such a devilish whore?”

Whore, whore, whore.  

He brings his thumb to your lips, tracing the outline of the bruised exterior— the aggressive kisses he had planted on them beforehand— before he slowly pushes the digit into your warm, wet mouth. Your lips reflexively curl around the appendage, hollowing your cheeks as your tongue runs over it. The taste sends a pulse of pleasure through your body, particularly affecting the part where you’re connected. You suck on his finger and tighten your thighs around his waist. He uses his other arm to elevate one of your legs and wrap it around his waist, reaching an entirely new angle that has you squirming around his finger.  

A little show of power never hurt anyone. Or maybe it did, you didn't really care about that right now. 

But as he's watching you take him in, eyelids drooping as you look up at him, vulnerable under his control, you decide you're not going to let him enjoy this for much longer. You bring your teeth down around his finger and bite, hard. 

You expect him to withdraw, to sneer at you and degrade you some more then draw back so he can stand tall and fuck the shit out of you. But he doesn't; instead, he plants his finger deeper in your mouth, pressing on your tongue as you gag around it. Your eyes water slightly and you're in disbelief at how utterly turned on you are.  

“You think I can't handle a little bit of biting here and there? Darling, I thought you'd know better.” 

You gaze into his eyes, feeling much less defiant now, instead looking to satisfy that aching need in your lower belly. You're one second away from pulling his finger out of your mouth and begging when he draws back. 

In the blink of an eye, you lose his finger in your mouth and his cock inside you. Feeling hopelessly empty and blindsided, you open your mouth to protest, but you don't get the chance to. Instead, you're lifted by your hips and flipped around like a potato sack being thrown around. You flop down on your stomach helplessly, probing yourself up on your arms so you can turn to look at him.

“Silco.” 

What's meant as a demand comes out as a whine and your face warms up in embarrassment. It's hard to mask the want in your body when you're this frustrated. 

His rough hands palm the curve of your ass as a sharp smile curls on his lips. “Ah, so you can talk after all, just not to answer to my orders, hm?” 

“Sil, please, I'm sorry-” 

He places his cock between your cheeks, “you know how I utterly despise unfinished work, dove. I’m going to need you to stick with your plan till the very end.” 

The menacing look in his eyes makes a shiver run down your spine as he leans forward to whisper the next few words. 

“Let’s see how many orgasms that attitude will be rewarding you with tonight.” 

[quibbs126]

While I was dealing with my headache, this thought came back to my head and I finally went and drew the comic to go with it

I admit, not very good drawings, but it’s poorly drawn comics for a reason, and you get the gist of it

For reference, I had this thought once of basically taking the Lil Petey thing from Dogman (because it was inspired by clips from the new movie that I still haven’t seen but want to), but making it Megatron/D-16

Featuring g1 Megatron’s design because g1 Megatron is absolutely the guy to do this, silly schemes like this are his bread and butter. He’s even made clones before, just not of himself (at least as far as I’ve seen). And they also work as intended, but for the sake of the joke

Though honestly I really like the idea of Megatron having a clone that’s his pre-war D-16 self, and the drama that can come with it from self reflection on who he is now. And potentially Optimus’ reaction to discovering this. I kind of don’t want to just leave at this silly comic

But where it directly goes from here, I’m not sure. Maybe Megatron kicks him out and Optimus finds him, and decides to take him back with him even if this is a tiny Megatron, because it’s not Megatron Megatron, just a younger version of him, and the regular is still causing problems

D-16 meanwhile isn’t really sure what’s going on, he’s just happy to be here. He does not have the life experience of Megatron to make him violent and evil, he’s just a little guy

Maybe Megatron gets him back and he and Optimus end up with a joint custody situation of D-16 here, like how I think it is with Lil Petey in Dogman (I haven’t actually read the series so I’m not sure on the details of the situation)

I don’t know, but I like this idea regardless of it being ripped straight from Dogman, let me have this. Or if anyone else wants to explore the idea, feel free, I don’t mind

[ranticore]

Is there any "canceled" settings that never got out? Or just some canned ideas like OG modified people(?) thera

I have loadssss of canned ideas which couldn't work in the setting I envisioned:

the first story idea for Siren i had was going to be about an unmodified human (employed by modern atom corp) crashlanding there, and the three explorers (huarvaa, qedivar, and terwy) would volunteer to help them travel to the precursor settlement to find parts to fix their space ship. But along the way they would all make the discovery that they were all humans all along (obviously with the unmodified human believing they were being helped by three aliens). So there'd be points in the story where they'd be like "huh what a weird coincidence that [some similarity they share]" finally turning into "wait so your people made us to be slaves on this planet??" and the unmodified human having to absorb the rammys. Reason I didn't go with it: didn't like the focus on an unmodified human, I felt it a disservice to the sirenians' intelligence to imagine that they couldn't figure out all that shit on their own.

That one jumps to mind as this was originally a Siren blog and I do still work away at it here haha.

For outright cancelled settings and stories, kiiinda ISOK, i don't really make new things about it anymore and it never grabbed my attention enough, I'll draw my faves but don't feel like developing stories or characters there right now

Twist the manticore came from a very recently fully cancelled story about curses which you can find in the #manticore tag on my big art blog. Basically a concept of a really fucked up city built on a mine of the substance which allows people to visualise magic spells and particularly curses. The story was about a curse broker who would be hired to cast curses not necessarily of his own design, but he'd be the one pulling the trigger because it's like this nightmare gig economy where you need an endless supply of new people to cast curses because each casting takes a cumulative toll on the body. Anyway I fell away from it because it was hard to write a very actively suicidal pov and I never figured out the ending so it felt aimless. Sometimes when I have no ending in mind I can just go on and on throwing new scenarios at the characters to see them react but I wasn't feeling it here. But I liked the manticore and sphinx designs

Obviously all of my 21st century Inver writing is gone noncanon now which is great. The future now is entirely uncertain yippee!!!

I've also had one billion story ideas which are up on the shelf kind of waiting. A big one you might know from my werewolf sketchbook is the glam underground werewolf subculture stuff which I came up with while watching dog shows lol but essentially warring werewolf packs decided to cut down the body count by doing head to head dance battles instead based on the beauty and aesthetics of their werewolf forms, it was a little inspired by drag balls but it's something I'm not very familiar with so if I were to go at it seriously I would need to do a lot of work. The story would be about a guy who got bitten and had to find his way to one of these spaces where because of his lovely werewolf form he gets poached by a pack and ends up competing with them, until he stumbles across the dead body of the current best in show competitor, rival to his new pack, and is accused of murdering him. He is charged with proving his innocence, but also finding out who the hell bit him because it seems like it may have been done on purpose to create a scapegoat for this murder. Anyway yea full murder mystery and the werewolves had show names which were as extravagant and striking as u can imagine*, essentially leaving their straightsonas at the door once a month to queen out among the only people who understand them. The only setting I could possibly imagine for it was vegas lol but in a more homophobic era (the underground lycanthropy scene being analogous to gay culture ofc).

Another story I wanna work on eventually is a revamp of the radio dragons, I realised ultimately that I was still trying to 'fix' pern with it when presenting a rebuttal to the ethical problems with dragon rider stories ends up really boring ("the dragons are in charge and they pick their riders when the riders are teens and there's an element of choice etc etc" boring). Ultimately I should just be completely inverting the dynamic and leaving it unchanged so that the issues are made blinding rather than fixed - in this case, the dragons are in charge, but they are picking their riders from birth. Newborn human baby instantly hooked up to an adult or at least older adolescent dragon and treated like a particularly smart parrot for most/all of their lives. And the story told entirely from dragon pov of course (dragon would do anything for their beloved rider!! even maybe let them vote?)

I have more but that's off the top of my head

[evolutionsvoid]

The Forgotten Libraries are truly a breathtaking and mind boggling place. Never will you see such incredible sights anywhere else, and you would be hard pressed to find any other environment that makes you this confused. It made me so thankful to have my guides, as there was zero chance of me ever being able to navigate this place on my own. Every moment I thought I had a grasp on our location or how to retrace our steps, I would turn around and see five other paths or corridors I didn't even know were there. Or that one time we traveled for hours to see rivers of ink cascading down endless spiral stairs, but then on the way back, the En'Terns used a "one way short cut" and suddenly we were back at the collection in less then two minutes. How? I have no idea. They just pulled a specific book from the hundreds in front of us, a chunk of shelf slid away and we stepped into some kind of back tunnel that spat us out where we had started. Even when they let me use their pop-up book map, I was still completely lost when it came to interpreting it. But as it turns out, navigating this place isn't the only problem when visiting a Forgotten Library. This should have been obvious to me, but it never crossed my mind due to the sheer fantastical nature of this land distracting me, but it turns out there is some dangerous wildlife here! While there is plenty that seems charming and bizarre, there are indeed entities that haunt these halls that will totally take a chunk out of you if they can! The En'Terns carry weapons for a reason, and it isn't just for hunting!

One of the first I learned about was during our first excursion out, and I found myself constantly distracted by the thousands of books lining the shelves. So many beautiful covers or strange designs, and opening them up would reveal absolute gibberish on the pages, but then strange sections of coherence that made it all seem so much weirder. "The Night Rose, 2nd Edition" noticed me frequently pulling out books that caught my eye while we rested, and she warned me about doing that. As it turns out, there are quite a few creatures in this land that use pretty books to draw prey, and me grabbing at such tomes would inevitably lead to me getting bit. Not to mention the possibility that dislodging a "keystone book" could lead to the entire shelf collapsing, and me getting crushed under a wave of falling books. And of course she made a cryptic comment of "and sometimes the shelves are hungry..." and that put a quick stop to that behavior! Goodness, I have never been more scared of a book in my life!

But one of the creatures that made bookshelves a possible threat was the entities known as the "Parchmen." Weird beings that were flat as paper, but made of something more akin to skin. They possessed a humanoid outline, but their edges tended to stretch out into spike-like formations. The Parchmen lacked any real features on their tan bodies, no organs or things that stood out. They merely had patterns of ink drawn upon their flesh, which was said to change depending on mood and situation. Used for both communicating with others of their kind and tricking prey. With this flattened shape, they could bend, fold and roll their bodies in countless ways, taking advantage of their incredible thinness. The biggest thing they did was stuff their bodies between books on shelves, causing them to disappear from sight. When prey came close, they would spring out and envelope them in their stretchy bodies. Their pointed edges would dig into flesh and suck away fluids and essence til their victim was a dried husk. Then they would slither off, leaving the shriveled corpse behind as they found a nice place to roll up and digest.

The Parchmen are feared by the En'Terns not only for this ambush tactic, but also because they seem to target their people. Apparently the Parchmen noticed that their shape was similar, and thus the chance of using mimicry to lure En'Terns close. Stories tell of the Parchmen pretending to be a one of them from a distance, beckoning them closer or feigning an emergency that would force them to rush. They would act like someone was gravely wounded or being chased, then pouncing on those who came to their aid. Parchmen can also figure out what books or resources the En'Terns like to collect, and then jam their bodies inside the material so they can be collected and carried. Once the harvester is in a vulnerable position, they can burst out and consume them. Thus vigilance is a must when out in the Forgotten Library, and an eye for detail so you can notice when something is out of place.

Killing a Parchmen is not easy, as they lack any vital organs. The general idea is that you cut them into enough pieces til it "becomes too hard to exist." Apparently once you slice enough bits on them, they literally give up being alive and go limp. Obviously, cutting implements are a must, while their pen tipped spears are great for pinning these slippery buggers down. My guides recommended carrying a knife at all times, so that you could cut yourself free if attacked. Dead Parchmen aren't used too much as a common resource at collections, but I was told their hide is used in "Rorschamancy." This is a type of divination that is done by slowly dripping ink upon a specially prepared medium over the course of hours, with the resulting blots and shapes being interpreted to see what the future holds. It was fascinating to see them do it! To watch them so intricately describe the shapes and flow of these seemingly random blots, drawing fortunes from what looked like a simple mess! Truly these oracles are talented! (Oh I see. When they pull meaning from nonsense, they are talented, but when I do it with your disastrous notes I'm a vandal. I get such appreciation from you... - E.R.)

We did wind up encountering a Parchman during one of our trips, and it was quite the scary experience! We had stopped around some book pillars to harvest some "paper lantern fruits" that were growing from the stacked tomes. "Whispers of the Enchanted Heart" and I had climbed up to pick them, while "The Night Rose, 2nd Edition" was on the ground catching what we dropped to her and keeping an eye out for danger. "Whispers of the Enchanted Heart" was reaching for a ripe specimen when the books near their hand suddenly exploded! Pages went flying everywhere, but amongst the chaos, a papery figure had latched onto their arm. It was a Parchman that had saw an opening, and was now trying to feed on my friend! The thing was quickly trying to wrap around them, and he was trying to fight it, but the precarious perch made it difficult. I was tethered to him by a rope, as it was to help keep me from falling while traversing the shelves. I yelled for him to let go and use me as an anchor to swing closer to the ground. If he could get on solid land, "The Night Rose, 2nd Edition" could help and it would be easier to fight.

He released his grip while I latched on tight to the shelf. He swung like a pendulum, and quickly undid his tether mid swing. Closer to the ground, the impact wouldn't hurt as much, but he twisted his body to use the flailing Parchman as a cushion. Landing atop the thing wouldn't hurt it, but the sensation of hitting the wood floor hard would daze it. "The Night Rose, 2nd Edition" was on them in a flash, drawing a pen knife to start cutting away at the thing. I climbed down and hurried to help. The Parchman put up one nasty fight, even slapping me in the face a few time with its flailing limbs. With the two of us there, we were able to cut it to ribbons, and eventually it stopped moving entirely. Not before a sliced off arm tried to wrap around my face! Thankfully, those buggers don't know how sharp dryad jaws are, and I wound up biting it in half. The closest I would get to tasting Forgotten Library food, and indeed it tasted awful! Like trying to eat a scroll, but somehow it is a feisty one!

Chlora Myron

Dryad Natural Historian

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

This is the last thing I have drawn up for the Forgotten Libraries. That doesn't mean it has all been done, it is just I got no more in the current line up. Hope to do more of the weird critters in this land in the future though! There is certainly more on my mind!

[poisonousquinzel]

Oh! And don't take my comments at the end regarding the kiss edit / homina comment as disregarding Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmiotti's role in this. I think both things can be true at the same time, DC can have not allowed Harlivy to be monogamous and AC & JP can have been completely okay with that choice.

Cause I do not have the slightest trust in either of their abilities to handle LGBT topics, considering Jimmy's in part behind this disgusting ass comic where this interaction somehow isn't even close to being the worst thing to have occurred in regards to the writing of / surrounding the Sirens in it.

But also considering the countless instances throughout the 2014/2016 comics where it's either grossly sexualized harassment, transphobia, racism, having a sapphic woman star as the bad guy in the Harley and Her Gang Of Harley's comic or something who's prev girlfriend is shown in graphic detail overdosing, or how that woman is grossly written being sexually predatory with Harley thoughout, the complete and utter tone deaf writing in just about every possible serious situation, and this linked post covers just the parts that randomly came to mind.

I have no doubt I could beat or rival the length of my Janet rant currently (12k+) if I went through everything these two tainted with their fucked writing for Harley in their time being her primary creators for so so damned many years. And honestly I likely will one day when I reach that point on the archive blog skdjsksks

Ha, oh, or how they opened their run off sexualizing Harley committing suicide in "humorous" fashions and held an art contest where people's prompt was her being suicidal.

In September 2013, DC Comics announced an art contest entitled "Break into comics with Harley Quinn!", in which contestants were to draw Harley in one of four different suicide scenarios. This contest drew controversy not only because it was announced close to National Suicide Prevention Week, but also because of the sexualized portrayal of Harley Quinn in the fourth scenario, in which the character attempts suicide while naked in her bathtub, which was highly criticised. The American Foundation for Suicide Prevention, American Psychiatric Association, and National Alliance on Mental Illness all responded to the controversy in an emailed group statement to the Huffington Post: "We are disappointed that DC Comics has decided to host a contest looking for artists to develop ways to depict suicide attempts by one of its main villains – Harley Quinn". After seeing the reactions to the contest, DC Comics apologized, saying they should have made it clear it was a dream sequence that was not supposed to be taken seriously. In the final version, the bathtub scene was cut and replaced with Harley Quinn sitting on a rocket while flying in space.

[Wiki]

And now I know, I know, Harley's canonical suicide ideations that had occured multiple times before this contest (the Detective Comics & Batman: Harley Quinn parts linked above) weren't and aren't exactly commonly talked about parts of her lore, but it was also rarely (if ever) acknowledged when giving criticism of this contest.

Which I think is an oversight tbf, they weren't just requesting fans draw and submit panels sexualizing one of their female villains in emotional distress attempting suicide, they were doing it to a female character with a history of suicidal thoughts and having her trauma and emotional distress shoved aside for the sake of being sexualized humourous eye candy aimed largely at a male audience. Her popping out of a pudding pie and making an innuendo towards Joker is a more known Moment of hers than the abuse that directly follows it legitimately seconds later.

This was no different, and this was a pattern Amanda Conner and Jimmy Palmiotti happily continued by sexualizing sa, sexual harassment, esc throughout their chapters and comics with Harley going forward.

DC may have apologized, but not only was this contest still something that was conceptualized, allowed, approved and greenlit, it is also something they didn't feel so bad about considering ig just everyone involved in the publishing of the director's cut #0 thought publishing this was actually still appropriate to present to the public !

Jimmy: This page got us a lot of press for all the wrong reasons. It was made into a contest to try out some new artists. The winner would get their page published. As you can see, Jeremy Roberts was picked after we saw hundreds of the tryout pages. When I wrote the descriptions of the panels, I was keeping them as simple as possible and left off the dialogue to add later. The theme and spirit of the page was to test the artist's storytelling ability and interaction within a scene. As well, we were placing Harley in ridiculous situations so we would get to see some variety in the facial reactions.

Long story short, because I described Harley "naked" in a bathtub with appliances about to drop into the tub, people jumped on the fact that I was somehow trying to sensationalize suicide. What I didn't want was Harley wearing her suit, so I used shorthand to explain this. My mistake.

like yeah, if you say "draw her naked in a bathtub" people are going to draw her uh naked in the tub where you get naked before getting in??? Idk if I'd say it was sensationalizing suicide, but it was making light of it and undermining the severity of the situations they prompted people to draw her in.

These weren't "ridiculous situations", they were tone deaf scenarios making light of people who are at such a low point that they would be willing to go to extreme lengths to die.

Having her trying to bait crocodiles to eat her alive isn't funny, that's horrifying. Its horrific to imagine the low mental state someone would have to be in to want death so badly that they try to bait violent wild animals to eat them alive. Like ??????? that's not some funny ridiculous situation what's wrong with them.

[Still Jimmy] That the tryout Harley Quinn page went out without an overall description of tone and dialogue is all my fault. I should have put it clearly in the description that it was supposed to be a dream sequence with Amanda and me talking to Harley and giving her a hard time. I should have also mentioned we were thinking a MAD magazine/Looney Tunes approach was what we're looking for. We thought it was obvious with the whale and chicken suit, and so on, but learned it was not. I am sorry for those who took offense, our intentions were always to make this a fun and silly book that broke the fourth wall, and head into issue 1 with an ongoing story/adventure that is a lot like the past POWER GIRL series we did. I hope all the people thinking the worst of us can now understand that insulting or making fun of any kind was never our intention.

Amanda: Under the circumstances, Jeremy did a fantastic job on the page. I hope he had fun on it 'cause it sure looks like he did. I love how on the third panel, it looks like Moby Dick is floating around New York Harbor.

As far as the controversy goes, Harley was part of a team called the "Suicide Squad," and it was supposed to be a play on words about that. The page description that went out was really brief and bare-boned. When I saw that it was getting across the wrong message, I went into more detail with the description, but by then, it was too late. The fecal matter has already collided with the revolving atmospheric circulation device. I thought the ridiculousness of the second and third panels would get across the nonsensical feel of the page, but not so much.

It definitely was not intended to be as lascivious as many people thought. The following is an example of what I had hoped for in my head:

[Small picture of Harley, nude and sitting up in the bathtub with her knees visible, covering her chest from view. The bath is full of bubbles, a rubber duck resting on her right knee. Her hair is up in space buns. She's holding an oversized pair of scissors that are about the size of her body. Six separate appliances hang above her, we can see 2 of the plugs hanging in the air. The scissors are open and about to clip the cord that's tied to one of the tub stands.]

Harley Quinn is a chaotic and unpredictable woman, her attempting to commit suicide in nonsensical fashions is not as jarring and clearly a made up over exaggerated ridiculous situations because she is a character that could be written in character doing similar things.

If that makes sense?

"our intentions were always to make this a fun and silly book", then why the fuck would you include suicidal scenarios? why even go there?? that's not a light tone that can be easily projected humorously.

And, why even be like "What I didn't want was Harley wearing her suit, so I used shorthand to explain this. My mistake." when the art Amanda had put in here as an example under "what I had hoped for in my head" features her just naked. Visibly fully naked, bare skinned.

So, the intention...was for her to be naked?

and oh no, they didn't end it there! To top it all off, after going through the rest of the covers and whatnot, they just go ahead and include all the finalists! ya know, the ones that included the panel of her attempting suicide in a bathtub?

The ones Amanda and Jimmy said above just needed better elaborated context of it being a dream sequence where they're talking to Harley and she wasn't supposed to be naked naked?

well, lucky us here's all 6 finalists without the goddamn boxes! just plain old panels! isn't that so nice and great and appropriate!

and from what I can find looking up each name and connecting them to artists in the industry, every single one of these finalists who drew these prompts that DC decided to publish are all men. I'll repeat what I said above, Harley is a female character with a history of suicidal thoughts and having her trauma and emotional distress shoved aside for the sake of being sexualized humourous eye candy aimed largely at a male audience.

sorry if I'm not really getting the humor from any of these, getting a lot of Leg and Cleave, and A Bunch Of Depression Vibes

but no humor. dialogue bubbles doesn't change the feel these panels have. A dialogue box would not make context surrounding these panels funny because suicide isn't fucking funny and shouldn't be used as a punchline. this isn't even dark humor you can't excuse it with that.

and they didn't even include the dialogue! this is just the actual no context idea they said people were mistaking it as and DC turned around and just published, officially published, 6 separate back to back pages featuring textless panels drawn by men of Harley Quinn, a canonical victim of IPV at the hands of her boyfriend who has shown suicidal ideation in two separate comics written by Paul Dini, "humorously" trying to end her own life or have animals eat her to end her own life.

wow, how fucking funny.

This is in no way a damned play on words, Amanda, because what the fuck do these prompts have to do with the Squad she was forced to participate in at threat of a bomb detonating in her neck, where she got tortured and sent off on SUICIDE MISSIONS, that she did not excitedly volunteer to go on because she just loves chaotic death and suicide??????

my main issue with Harlivy not being monogamous is that the idea exists solely because DC is homophobic. I think, in some worlds, they could have a healthy poly relationship, obviously I love harliva (Gotham City Sirens), I stand by that this would be a wonderful dynamic if ya know written by competent and skilled writers who actually understand all their characters.

And frankly I dont feel like Harley is one who typically would be okay with sharing the person she's in love with. she's just not. maybe in a case where she and the person she's in love with / dating are both also in love with another, who's equally into the both of them.

But

That's not what's happening in Harley & Ivy's comics right now. That's not what's ever happened with this "open relationship".

I think Mason was healthy and sweet for Harley, from what I remember, but Ivy didn't love him and he didn't love Ivy. It's understandable to a degree, Ivy's reasonings and such, and in a different world with better writers I think that aspect could have been explored and developed.

Because Ivy does, truly, deeply, love Harley, and the idea she would be okay with Harley having hookups, etc, could be explained in a way that would make sense. Particularly during the part of Harley's arc that the 2014/2016 comics were, well, were supposed to be, dealing with.

She's freshly broken up with Joker, not really fully into a healing phase either, and isn't in the right mindset to be like settling down and thinking of Forever again. Harlivy's relationship is strong and built on friendship, so even in the beginning there while their relationship isn't Platonic, it's not "Officially Dating", Ivy knows how deeply Harley also cares about her. She also knows Harley isn't in a good place, and neither was she.

So her being okay, or outright happy for Harley, being loved by other people would make some sense because all Ivy's tried to do their whole friendship is prove that she deserved better, that she deserved to be loved and cherished. And as long as whoever is the pick of the month for Harley is someone who makes her feel happy and loved, then Ivy wouldn't feel jealous over it because damn, good for her being so happy messing around with someone who isn't as nasty and cruel as Joker. And it wouldn't take away from the real underlying feelings the two women have for one another.

But, again, that's not what this is. And it is now a "dynamic" that's bled into both Poison Ivy (2022) and Harley Quinn (2021), and has ultimately (due to the sheer lack of shown conversations or anything) devolved to borderline cheating.

In all honestly, this isn't a thing that'd exist if she was still with Joker and him alone. 1000%.

She would be with him and him only and would be depressed, insecure and jealous if he had a "friend" like Janet who he'd fucked before and continued to keep around.

This concept was only introduced because DC wouldn't allow for Harlivy to be openly in a monogamous relationship in 2014/2016. This is the company that in 2013 lost both the artist and writer for the Batwoman comic (artist: JH Williams III and writer: W. Haden Blackman) due to the company refusing to allow them to show Kate get married. It's not ooc for them to have refused to let them be monogamous, especially since Harlivy wasn't even allowed to be shown kissing on the lips at the time.

cause forbid sapphic women are allowed to be shown being outright loving and romantic with each other and doing something as ridiculously simple and mundane as a lip kiss, but having Ivy grab her ass in front of two dudes is totally okay cause it's hot.

it's so hot in fact that they needed to add in Tool dude, a fucking loser ass creep, saying "homina" in response to getting to see these two hot ladies like this. It seems like this is supposed to be a version of "Hummina"

Wiktionary: used to express that one has a strong reaction that cannot be expressed in words, especially when expressing embarrassment or sexual attraction.

Urban Dictionary: gibberish used to convey excitement or immediate sexual attraction to someone that takes your breath away.

Or the definitions for "Homina" itself

Urban Dictionary: A word, normally repeated three times, to express shock, befuddlement, or general speechlessness. Often when looking at a particularly attractive member of the speaker's favored sex

-

A sound you make when you see someone very attractive and beautiful. Similar to "hubba-hubba" or "a-woo-gah a-woo-gah" or "rwaaaarrr!"

[AND! I think the dynamics with her relationships with Joker and Ivy during the Mad Love arc is ridiculously complex and cannot be boiled down to "she cheats on him with Ivy so its in character for them to not be monogamous" because it takes away all context of both relationships and the mental state she'd have been in during that arc that was directly caused by him.

Her hooking up with Ivy while still being on / off again with Joker, a man who had broken her mind, her bones and her self esteem, is not at all similar or equatable to the pointless, ooc strange plot threads that've been published recently that frankly are just starting to feel like it's playing into biphobic stereotypes]

anyyyhoo, those are my thoughts<3 I have to finish cleaning my room now I sporadically wrote this on a short break SKDJSJKSKSKS

[thewhumpcaretaker]

🝊 Curse in Two Bodies: 9 - I'm Sorry 🝊

Masterlist | Summary: Adelais tries and fails to apologize for his behavior towards Ninlen earlier. Ninlen tries to apologize for...well, just about everything. TW: lots of shame, lots of talk about not wanting to eat, possible financial abuse by a parent

A: Im sorry (message deleted)

N: I saw that. You’ve done it twice now.

A: Great

N: Are you okay?

A: Yes. God, you’re insufferable.

N: I’m sorry. I know I have a way of getting over-concerned with other people’s business. I’ll try to work on it, during our time together. We have to work effectively as a team, and that can’t happen if I’m fussing over you. Again, I’m sorry. 

A: Stop apologizing. It’s not like that.

A: Do you actually mean these little speeches?

N: Of course

A: But why? You haven’t done anything to me. I don’t think anyone has been this nice to me in years.

N: That’s a fucking crime.

N: I don’t understand why they couldn’t get anyone for you other than me.

A: Ha! Seriously? Maybe we *are* strangers.

N: Wait. Did it bother you, when I said that?

A: No! What do I care? It’s just not fucking accurate, okay? Maybe you don’t know shit about me but I know you. Did you know I had access to your files before you even got here?

N: I did not know that, no.

A: Credit report and everything. You grew up in Korsaivar. You dropped out of school at 14. And your checks are going into a joint back account, and then right back out again. Someone’s robbing you blind.

N: No one’s robbing me. I’m providing for my mother. I dropped out to start working fields in Montagleo for her.

A: Yeah, that too! You’ve been working the fields since 14 and you have no savings! What do you buy??

N: That’s…I genuinely don’t know how to respond to this level of economic unawareness but I understand that this is not an issue you’ve likely encountered firsthand. I’m centering myself in patience.

A: See, insufferable.

A: I know how poverty happens, you dunce. But you’re providing for your mother and nobody else on one of the few living wages that doesn’t need a degree. Like…that’s hard labor and it’s not for nothing. People go to the Montagleo fields to feed a family of three, and you’re not even married. It doesn’t make any sense. You’re just, what, giving her full access to buy anything out of your bank account?

N: She’s not well. It’s difficult for her to work.

N: She was disabled by my birth.

A: ??? That’s not your responsibility tho, you couldn’t have even prevented that

N: Nonetheless, here we are. So I want to handle it. 

A: I guess do what you want to do? Still seems like you’re being had. Idk

N: How would you feel if I said *your* parents are taking advantage of *you*?

A: After the past few days, vindicated

N: Well, I’m sorry for that, truly.

N: You’re more insightful than I give you credit for. I’m sorry if I came off harshly.

A: It’s okay. Let’s talk about something else.

N: What’s your favorite magic to practice? You must have had some amazing tutors at the palace.

A: Haaaa are you actually trying to get to know me?

N: If you wouldn’t mind it, I would like that. Up to you. You can ask me anything too. 

A: Honestly I don’t like any magic, because I suck at drawing mana. I’ve never liked the feeling of the second veins.

N: That surprises me. You mean the sensation of it?

A: Not exactly. It’s just so…not mine? I know it’s supposed to work off of my intentions. But it’s not me doing it and so unsettling. When you build a machine, you apply force and it moves. Even if different parts keep it moving, like an engine, you kickstart it. Magic isn’t like that at all. It’s something inside my body that’s not me, doing…maybe what I meant to do but maybe something else. That’s the worst part. 

N: It is like that, you’re right. You’re…occupied with a force beyond yourself. I guess I never had much that was mine, so it’s not a big deal to me. But I can understand why it wouldn’t be enjoyable, if that’s important to you.

A: Thanks for getting it. I talk nonsense sometimes.

N: No, it makes sense. Do you like machines then?

A: Yeah! I’ll have to show you the garage at some point. I’m just too tired today.

N: Have you had something to eat?

A: No. My throat hurts and it feels too much like the curse. Keeps messing with me. I’ve been staring at a bowl of soup this whole time.

A: Really not looking forward to our transfer. 

N: I’ll skip dinner tonight. I can go a day - it’s not fair for your throat to be double sore.

A: No. You’ll get sick if you go hungry. You spent too much time with me earlier. 

N: It’s okay if I do

A: The guards will make us transfer anyway. 

N: I don’t know. If neither of us cooperate, they may as well just leave it until tomorrow. We have a chance.

A: Ninlen, if I don’t get to atone in some way for at least ten minutes, I’m going to smash everything in my study

N: Atone?

N: Where is this coming from?

A: Just forget it. Get yourself beat up, if that’s what you love so much. It won’t matter.

N: I’ll give you the curse without a fight if that’s really what you want. 

N: Please feel better in the meantime though. You really need to eat. Maybe something cold, if hot isn’t working. Do you want ice cream?

A: Fuck you fuck you fuck you you’re making me cry

N: What? I don’t know how to say the right thing…

A: IT’ NOT LIKE THAT

A: I DONT DESERVE IT

N: I’m coming upstairs.

A: NO

N: Okay, um, never mind. I don’t understand what happened so quickly… Please take care of yourself. You really don’t deserve to be punished. I’m sorry.

[hours pass]

A: I didn’t mean to ruin things. Can we talk like this again tomorrow?

N: Nothing is ruined. I’d really, really like that. 

Taglist: @inhurtandincomfort @paingoes @bluelolblue @zillobeastrevival @violets-whumperflies

[jalluzas-ferney]

The moment I noticed that every best friend I have had have been older siblings (while I am the youngest sibling) I HAADD to do this cuz I had yet to see this done before so DO U SEE MY VISION

[otto-tigtea]

Well, I came with another mini thing and it's not a billford?? o_o (sorry 😔✌🏻)

Bill's therapy isn't going very smoothly, but he's trying...trying to come up with a plan to escape :) And after that he was never allowed to attend joint art classes in Theraprism

And the last picture is again my blue jelly weirdo-therapist, who definitely doesn't like one persistent artist who comes and disturbs with some sketches of everything and everyone)))

[ofbreakingofflimits]

It was funny how Troy had never asked to be on a stage, the attention seeking people assumed he was. Because back in the day; Troy wasn’t just the star of the basketball team, but he became a singer. He jumped on stage and starred in a production; it felt weird to say despite all the times he’s performed now. It was a passion that felt hidden for him. All the expectations of himself. He was a performer in his own way. 

“ No I get it, I never asked to be in that spotlight, but given who my dad was. One wrong turn back then would be raising brows..” It was funny, how the people who wanted to be the silent voices. The people who wanted to blend in, were the ones that had spotlight come easily to them. As for Sharpay; she craved the attention. She ached for the eyes the stares to be on her; she was talent beyond measure but from where I was standing it’s how you treated others, what you did with the luck of the draw, of that passion to perform that stood out. Troy wasn’t afraid of stepping out of his comfort zone anymore. He wasn’t afraid to be more than basketball. And with Gabriella it was easy; she gave him passion, confidence. She inspired him. When he lost her; a light inside of him was dimmed. 

But as we went on into the night; frozen yogurt on the mind, the male had raise a brow up in her direction. “ You know I got funny over the years.” He was only teasing her now, as the pair came to a stop after climbing down the familiar stairs from the high school. Our friends were busy with the festivities to notice, but he was sure Chad was aching to send him a message, not that Troy would answer now. As the male was occupied with her. A soft smile on his lips as he tilted his head to her. “ Where do you want to end our outing to eat?” 

I knew the spot, the lack of comfort, the lack of warmness in the shop, we normally ended up at the curb watching the trail of cars, or we’d go back to her house since it was down the street where we’d swing on her backyard hammock just enjoying the others company.

@ofbreakingofflimits

{First love. It’s one of those feelings you’ll never forget. People tell you that, no matter how much time passes, that first love will always hold a special place in your heart. I didn’t really know just how true that was, but for me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget mine.

For me, my first, and only love, has been Troy Bolton. He came into my life at a time that I needed him the most, and no matter where life takes us, I’ll never forget how he made me feel, or the person I became simply by having him in my life. It’s funny when you consider I was so mad at my mom when her job transferred her to New Mexico. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have anything against Albuquerque, but it was just the fact that I was tired of moving around. You finally make a few friends, and you get adjusted into a new school, and suddenly you’re packing up and moving again. Needless to say, I became really good at goodbyes. Fortunately for me, my mom made it clear to her bosses that she wouldn’t accept another transfer, after that last one, until I graduated from high school. I was lucky because it was in Albuquerque, or more accurately, at East High that I finally figured out who I am. It was my season of firsts… First love… first kiss… first time singing in front of an audience without passing out… first time in a school musical… first time that I had a whole circle of really great friends… And the list goes on. I loved everything about East High, especially Troy Bolton. Then college happened and I didn’t know where that would leave Troy and I. Sure, just like any high school couple, you make the promise to give it your best shot, but with distance and the busyness of college, it starts to weigh on a relationship. At least that’s what people like Taylor, Chad, Kelsie, and my mom warned me. I don’t know, though… When it came to Troy and me, I knew if anyone could defy the odds and make our relationship last, it was us.

For our parts, we did give it our best shot. We went strong through our first year of college, even the second-year defied expectations, but as it continued, I could feel us starting to drift apart. It made sense, though. I mean, we both made new friendships at college, we both had heavy loads with our classes and assignments, and we were both also involved in extracurriculars at college, too. All that to say, it didn’t leave much time for each other. Our weekend meet ups and dates gradually dwindled to once a month, if we were lucky, and over time, it just became one disappointment and canceled date after another for us. In the end, we decided it was best just to end our relationship. It was nobody’s fault, really. Just reality became a bit too much for us to continue holding on to our “kindergarten fantasies,” you could say.

My senior year was wrapping up at college, and I was still undecided on what I wanted to do next. Sure, I had job offers lining up, but nothing had really stuck out to me yet, regarding which path I wanted to choose. My mom had since been transferred back to Albuquerque and was living in our old house, so I had strongly considered taking a position that I had been offered at a law office in Albuquerque, but I still wasn’t sure. I mean, maybe a change in scenery is what I needed. Still, Albuquerque was the place that still felt most like home, so maybe that was my answer. I silently considered as I left the dining hall and started back toward my dorm room to continue packing up. I had no sooner reached my dorm room when I got a text from Taylor asking me if I was returning for the alumni event being held for our graduating class back at East High. Sure, I recalled reading the email a few times… Going back and forth on whether or not I wanted to do this, but in the end, I was still undecided, at best. Don’t get me wrong, it might be really nostalgic to be back at East High again, and it would be great to see my friends, but I was admittedly nervous about seeing Troy} Maybe… {I texted back in response as I continued packing up my dorm room; stacking my packed bins in the corner of the room, so they would be ready to load into my SUV once I finished finals later this week.

Days passed, graduation happened, and I found myself back in Albuquerque. I was still undecided on which job I was going to take, but for now, I was indefinitely moved back into my mom’s house. After going back and forth for weeks, Taylor managed to convince me to attend the alumni event at East High this weekend, so I now found myself in front of my closet door mirror trying on one outfit after another in search of just the perfect outfit. I was never this indecisive about what to wear, but I don’t know, I guess the possibility of seeing Troy today left me feeling nervous} “The one you’re wearing is perfect. Now put those shoes on, and let’s go.” {I heard Taylor’s bossy voice ringing out from behind me; prompting a bright smile to my face. Squealing softly in excitement while rushing over toward her to greet her with a hug} I didn’t know you were coming here to get me. {I said as we exchanged a long overdue hug with each other. She chuckled lightly and replied} “I figured if we’re both going into that school with the chance of having to face our ex-boyfriends, or worse yet, Sharpay Evans, we’d need each other for moral support.” {I nodded in response and smiled as we broke the hug. I took one last look in the mirror after slipping into the shoes Taylor suggested for me to wear. I still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced that this was the right outfit to go with, but it would do. I thought with a silent nod as I grabbed my purse and keys. Not a moment too soon since I felt Taylor grab my hand; tugging me out of my bedroom, downstairs, and ultimately out to her awaiting vehicle. A nervous sigh leaving my lips as I got situated in the passenger’s side seat of her vehicle} “We’ve got this. I mean, we’re all in this together, right?” {She said with a knowing smile and a giggle as she started up the vehicle and then with an exhaled breath, she pulled away from my house; taking the familiar drive to East High School for what could potentially be an unforgettable weekend for us both}

[acidichcl]

Eureka!!