#U decide anon

[charkyzombicorn]

Cipher pole Luffy's Ace would be so fucking emo. Not to mention his initial reaction to being referred to as brother by the whitebeards.

✨The Misunderstanding✨

Sabo: So, how is Ace nowadays?

Luffy: Oh, I haven't seen him since I was like ten, but I heard from a friend that he joined a really big pirate and hes got new brothers now!

Sabo: *who understood this as Ace replacing them* Oh? Did he now?

*Later*

Ace: Omg my brothers alive

Sabo:

--

You think Ace has constant drenched cat emotions pre-wb in Canon?!??!!?

Ace in this au is Even More Pissed™ and he hates the government

He saw Luffy in the news, he Knows his brother is in trouble, Knows hes been in trouble for five years, and he doesn't even care about killing Whitebeard or anyone he's after marines and marines only. If Whitebeard wants him it's because he thinks 'I can fix him' and No, no U can't fix him but he'll make u worse and by the end you'll also want Luffy back tyvm.

Someone calls Ace brother once and theyre in the medical ward for a month - Whitebeard pirates are not eager at their father's decision lol but Ace is firmly 'there are two people that could call me brother and one of them is dead'

[torchvic]

that one ship dynamic but with levi and mc

(credit to @litriu! here is the original post (lmk if the link doesnt work pls))

[hinamie]

theyre soft your honour

[technically-human]

Can you draw something with Doom Patrol!Edwin and Netflix!Edwin?

Maybe something about Dp!Edwin talking about his feelings for Charles with N!Edwin?

It's just something I've been thinking of, make it a little angsty?<3

Glad you asked

ko-fi

[xiewho]

could i get a fabian pretty pls… possessed would be cool but anything with him is fine

based on that one fake bad kids twt thread that i Cannot find for the life of me

[enha]

[EN-loG] JAKE (feat. LAYLA) requested by anon 💛

[pineappical]

sometimes for the worse, sometimes for the better

[mblue-art]

late halloweeen dooodleee

[shalomniscient]

jingliu angst where she only tolerates you cus u remind her of baiheng sjjahagsab im dead

[nsft utc]

tw. mentions of vomiting (?), unhealthy/toxic dynamic, identity loss

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

it began back on your home planet, ravaged and carved by interastral powers of all its resources, leaving behind a gnawing, gaping hole in the ground and the hearts and bellies of its people. you once mourned your more normal childhood—but the hunger in your stomach and in your soul consumed that too. your meals were few and far between, snatched from the hands of other starving husks, and it was the only joy you ever had as a child. the trickery and the thrill. it’s the only joy you get to keep into adulthood, a twisted elation that grants you a place in the cosmic court of jesters; the masked fools.

it’s—predictably—fun. trickery and thrill are the bread and butter of the fools. your mask affords you many, many opportunities for both, and though you have never had your belly achingly empty since, that hunger in your soul is not so easily sated. now, what you crave is the rush, the adrenaline, the oxytocin. and so you dance on marble floors with a different face each time, with partners who either wish you dead or in their beds, the space between you measured in an unfathomable amount of risk which you exchange for an unfathomable amount of thrill. you scamper along the length of this cosmic ballroom like a starving, feral fox in tall grass, the red of your fur as inviting as the white of your teeth are sharp. you hunt and you haunt, seeking something to fit between your aching teeth, something that will burst on the sharp point of your canines and smear your lips with pure elation and maybe satisfy that abyssal hunger in your psyche.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps.

and you have never seen more tantalizing a meal than a devil with a coffin and a woman who seeks to kill a god. she holds the tip of a ice-hewn blade beneath your chin the first time you meet, nicking the delicate skin of your neck, just above your pulse. you swallow. let out a laugh that sounds like a barking fox, and the woman’s sword falters. surprisingly, it doesn’t take much for you to convince her to let you tag along on her fool’s errand. it’s almost poetic. you learn of her name—jingliu. it’s pretty. rolls off your tongue. jingliu doesn’t bother to learn yours, but she calls you fox. you don’t mind the scrap of attention. after all, you’ve spent your whole life living off scraps.

travelling with jingliu (and by extension, luocha) does not lack for excitement. the road to deicide is paved with elation, even if your blue-haired companion refuses to see it. through battle and through the long travel between star systems in pursuit of the great fleet, you get somewhat closer to jingliu. it doesn’t take very long for you to slip into her bedroll (or cot, depending where you are). mara, you find, though cannot be cured can certainly be sated; much like the permanent hunger that curls in your belly. jingliu fucks you until neither of you are coherent enough to feel much of anything, madness or hunger. it’s an arrangement you find yourself enjoying. and as a by-product of such intimacy, you learn more about jingliu. her mannerisms, her illness—her past. she doesn’t tell you any of this, of course, but you can put two and two together from the things she lets slip deep in the throes of some nightmare after fucking you senseless. she gets many of those. the pattern is always the same. at first, she’ll sleep relatively soundly. but then, her brow creases, and her lip curls, and she angrily mutters a few names under her breath; a certain dan feng and yingxing. she curses them, then almost makes a noise like a sob, and something else leaves her lips— another name, but this time spoken with heartache and longing.

baiheng.

it doesn’t take much to infer that this baiheng was someone jingliu cared very much about. though when you ask luocha more about her, he reveals a little detail that makes her moderately more interesting—baiheng was a foxian. in some ways, that makes you similar to her, even though foxian you are not. the thought amused you once, as you looked back upon jingliu’s restless, sleeping form. perhaps jingliu saw her lost lover in you. how… quaint. the assumption never bother you, not really—until she starts to call for baiheng while she’s fucking you.

you’re no stranger to casual sex. even before jingliu, you never lacked for partners eager to share a bed with you. no, the fucking itself isn’t the problem—it’s how she’s fucking you. it isn’t with the detachment and pure lust like you’re used to. instead it’s almost like she cares, hands gentle on your hips as she drives her cock in and out of your greedy cunt. she fills you like she never wants for you to want for anything anymore, and even though you know it isn’t you this affection is for, that jingliu is barely even aware that you’re you and not baiheng, you can’t help but devour it feverishly every time.

you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and like this, with jingliu’s cock filling your pussy as she deliriously presses the shape of a dead woman’s name against your neck, you finally feel full.

and it makes you sick.

you crawl out of her embrace and spill your guts every time she falls asleep. your body utterly rejects the feeling—you’ve been so used to starving that the sensation of being full turns you ill. and yet, you can’t seem to push her away. you always come back, always relax under her touch, always pliant for her just to chase that brief, beautiful high you’ve never been able to find anywhere else only to bleed it once she’s done. your heart’s a pythagorean cup; a little too much and you’re spilling over. but you’re so greedy for it, still greedy for her. of all things it is affection that’s the most potent drug you’ve ever tasted, beyond the cheap thrill of oxytocin and adrenaline—even if none of it is meant for you, even if it’s just scraps. but that’s fine.

after all—you have always been a stray, hungry for scraps. and if that means wearing the face of a dead woman and letting the hunger finally devour you whole, then so be it.

[cryiling]

can't stop thinking about revalink </3

[blenselche]

f... feral fem ferm.....

smartest person in the room right here tbh

[toxintouch]

hii!! I just read cold spots and it was AMAZING!!! Im not sure if you wanted to continue the fic, but if you don’t mind could you continue with Veres part? I don’t know what you would write about but I just feel like that fic has so much potential to be a little 3 part series or something 🙏

<- Cold Spots TYSM ANON!! I put the Vere End at the beginning for ease of reading. For the sake of folks who would like to read this as a stand-alone... I think u can? With the knowledge that the premise of Cold Spots is that Mhin and MC/Sparrow went ghost hunting. Vere is said to have been responsible for a handful of local ghost stories, so…of course he makes some mischief.🦊 Also MC needs some Winter wear, stat.  A very light Possessive Vere warning in this btw, though perhaps in a roundabout way.  Plausible deniability is so important to him.

You putter around in your room at the Wet Wick as you go about your nightly routine. The occasional cheer or thud from below only accentuates your nervous energy, punctuating your reluctance to settle down and get into bed. You smooth the covers with your bandaged hands and fluff the pillow before extinguishing the lamplight. You tug the bedding up above your shoulders, fighting to get comfortable. As your eyelids finally start to droop, the flicker of a shadow catches your attention.   It dances and sways and bends and grows until suddenly it is right in front of you.  On top of you. Silken, blood red drips down onto your face, a knife gleam smile too close for comfort.  You breathe in a gasp, wondering if you should scream. “Vere, what–” “Shhh,” he coos, pressing a finger lightly to your lips.  His breath is hot against your skin. “I only came to keep you warm, pet.”

Heat Signature

“Poor thing.” Vere purrs.  “Your lips are so cold.”  He leans ever closer, his mouth hot over yours–hovering.  His other hand reaches for your face as well, nails trailing against your cheek in a teasing caress.

You feel even the thought of being cold leave your body, replaced instead by the unusual thrill he commands, that strange enthralling sway.

That heat you’ve come to associate with Vere; sweet tendrils of want that nestle in your bloodstream.

You squirm a little, though you can’t move much with him looming over you.

(You should probably do more to protest his intrusion into your room, you think to yourself, though, the majority of you is–curious, daresay even far too eager to–)

“Whatever trouble did you get up to that left you in such a state?”

At this you scoff, tilting your head back into the pillow and effectively knocking Vere’s finger from your lips.  

“As if you don’t know,” you accuse.

Vere looks entirely unperturbed by you shaking him off, his lithe fingers traveling freely along the newly displayed skin of your throat, making your pulse jump.

Vere chuckles at that, dark and silky.

“Being tight lipped about your adventures, hm?”  He angles your face just so, ensuring you meet his sharp eyes, his nose brushing up against yours.  “Not that it matters.  It so happens I do know what you’ve been up to.  Trespassing in places that don’t belong to you.”

“...It was an abandoned building.  I don’t think it really belonged to anyone.”

“And that’s where you’d be wrong,” Vere says, “everything in this city belongs to someone, darling.  You just don’t know what belongs to who yet.”  He peers down at you with laughter in his expression, though there's a distinct edge to it that you can't quite place.

“So, you're here because that building belongs to you...?”

“Hmm, amongst other things.  However shall I make you apologize to me for this most egregious offense?”  He asks airily, shifting until he’s beside you rather than perched over you, resting his cheek in his hand and letting his eyes slip closed. He's the absolute picture of unbothered leisure.  

(You’re not fooled–he’s simply waiting for you to let your guard down before he pounces.)

You open your mouth to deny any debts on your part (though, if your ghost hunting spot was indeed Vere’s hideout, you really do feel guilty) but Vere cuts you off before you can speak.

“Alas, I suppose it’s not mine anymore.  Within a week it will reek of wet dogs and cheap booze. It's a lost cause now that those drooling reprobates know it's inhabitable.  A pity.  By Eridia's standards it really was divine in its heyday.  Good wine, music, dancing.  There was this portrait artist who would paint the performances…”

His tone remains light as he reminisces.  But the look he pins you with is dangerous: his eyes gleaming bright, his canines bared in an irreverent grin.

“I had such hopes and dreams of reviving the place myself.  Some of the dances were very scandalous.  You never did share with me your stance on dancing, did you?”

You stumble out an approximate answer.  It’s…harmless information to give, isn’t it?

Though, judging by how pleased Vere looks, you wonder if you should have refused to say.  He looks positively wicked as he ponders your answer aloud.  “Oh, I’m sure you’ve got plenty of talents to share.  In another life, perhaps I'd have put you on stage.  Though, I admit.  I find myself partial to a private show.”

And–as expected–the moment you let your guard down, he's in your space again, crowding you.  Heat and proximity and the softest brush of his lips against yours, light enough to send a thrill down your spine, curiosity and a want so deep it surprises you.

“Well?”  He purrs.  “Care to audition?”

You can't hide behind the excuse of supernatural sway or charm or the thrall of hypnotic sunglo eyes.  It's not Vere's power that controls you. It's your own gnawing desire; starvation and longing that draws you to him despite all sense.

Kissing Vere is heady.  Dizzying.  

Kissing Vere is like being in conversation with Vere–a constant of giving and taking, being chased after and running to keep up.  It’s enticing and alluring and decadent and never quite enough, over too soon even as you feel yourself losing air, the rush of blood and sensation threatening to overwhelm you.

He gives a parting nip to your bottom lip as he pulls away.

Then another one, playful, to your jaw.

When he presses his face into the side of your neck, you expect him to bite again.

What you don’t expect is for him to nuzzle into you, inhaling deeply before heaving a great sigh, his tail flopping lazily to land across you with a thump.

He’s officious as he rearranges the covers, ensuring your arms are tucked carefully away from him before he’s willing to fully settle into the bedding, pulling the blankets up around the both of you like a den.  He hums something low in his chest as he tucks himself up alongside you, long tail curled around your waist. 

It’s rhythmic–

purring.

And it’s…soothing, actually.

The weight of him, the warmth.  The incessant lamplight of the Amaryllis District, shining ever present through your window, is dim–tolerable, even, courtesy of Vere's magnificent shadow manipulations and the blankets sheltering you. 

The constant noise seems to fade away as well, obscured by the sound of purring. “Falling asleep when you have me in your bed, pet?  You really do try your luck…”

[vani-ash]

AHHH your kimchay post about kim pretending to be poor made me crack up so much!! <3

but can I just make a tiny tiny suggestion: how funny would it be if chay actually knew kim was pretending from the time in the restaurant?

at first chay's mad that kim is "tricking" him so he decides to keep pretending to see how long kim is going to keep the charade up. and kim just... keeps... pretending and like his horrible empty apartment confuses chay so much (maybe cuz he spots kim in a mall one day dressed in like designer clothes, stepping out of his fancy lamborghini so why does kim own an apartment in that horrid neighbourhood?) and in the process of pretending chay realises that kim is nothing like all the rich people he hates and he kind of ends up falling for his stupidly handsome face but like... how... is chay... going to break the news to kim that he's known all along that he's rich???!?

(so kimchay get locked in a mutual deception where neither of them realise the other knows the truth and can't tell each other because they've just gone on too long now. XD)

Original post

I'm glad you liked it anon! 🥰💛 i love the idea of Kim just constantly digging himself deeper unknowingly 😭😭😭

But I want Chay to be oblivious during the dinner but what if when they leave the restaurant Kim's like hey two secs the waiter needed to talk to me i'll be right back and Chay nods and then after a couples minutes decides he needs the bathroom so he goes and then when he comes out of the bathroom he over hears Kim and the waiter talking and the waiter is like 'of course Khun Theerapanyakul' and like bows and stuff and Chay's like (in his head) 'Theerapanyakul??? 🤨 isn't that that super rich family???'

anyway he doesn't say anything right away and they end the date and its all cute and nice and Kim had been perfectly sweet this whole time and hasn't acted like any of the other rich assholes Chay had known so he lets it slide and he's willing to just cut Kim off after the date and ghost him.

So he goes a few days (weeks?) not replying to anything Kim sends him and Kim sends messages like 'I know youre probably working lots, make sure your eating well, miss you ❤️'

and then just as Chay came to terms with not seeing Kim again cause he did really enjoy being with Kim, he sees Kim at one of the high end shopping centers, luxury sports car, decked in high fashion clothing brands and expensive jewelry, Chay even sees that Kim has body guards??? Chay is glad he dogged that bullet he's sure Kim would've eventually turned into a rich asshole and it was just a trick.

But then Chay follows Kim for a little (at a distance. something that's plausible cause it is a giant shopping center) he watches Kim eat at one of the fancy cafes, he's polite to the servers, he even stacks the plates and stuff before leaving. (Chay thinks back to one of their dates where he took Kim to a fast food place and remembers how Kim seemed hesitant to eat it and ordered a small portion, at the time he thought it was cause Kim was broke but now he thinks its cause Kim probably hated the cheap fast food but he still ate it, for Chay.)

Someone accidentally walks into Kim at one point and Chay expects him to get mad and yell like every other rich asshole would, but he doesn't. The day continues like that. He sees Kim buy some make up and one of the shop keepers accidentally spills something on him and once again Chay expects Kim to get annoyed and berate them, but he doesn't.

Chay decides to finally respond to Kim. He watches Kim's face light up as he pulls his phone out and reads Chay's message, and now Chay feels bad about ghosting Kim so he gives an excuse about being sick or something and Kim texts back he'll come over and nurse Chay to health.

(Chay rushes home cause kim wouldnt take no for an answer and then when Kim does arrive in completely different clothes than what he was wearing at the shop and with no jewelry in sight Kim aslo gives Chay a gift that Chay had seen Kim spend about an hour going through the shop deliberating on buying, chay didnt know how much it cost but it was probably expensive but not something he would think was expensive if he hadn't seen the shop kim brought it from. He thinks Kim is even more adorable.)

And then Chay just never figures out how to tell Kim he knows Kim isn't poor. But every time he sees Kim act like it he has to hold in his laughter. The derelict apartment? The clear second hand clothes? Chay thinks how hard kim is trying to keep up this act is both endearing but also kinda frustrating. He regrets going on that rant about hating rich people cause he knows Kim probably feels like if he admits who he is or Chay will hate him, but also the longer Kim keeps it a secret the deeper a hole he thinks he's digging.

Chay knows he's gonna have to be the one to admit he knows but what if Kim gets mad Chay let him struggle to pretend to be poor?

Chay does set up little 'traps' for Kim to expose he's rich but also Kim is kinda oblivious and doesn't realise that what he just did outs him as rich so the game continues for way longer than it should

[pokeberry5]

if anyone's interested, i'm opening requests for comic panel redraws!

[en-chi-la-da]

Hinadam reminds me of a certain otp trope...

Gundham: "What was that?!"

Hinata: "Affection ^^"

Gundham: "Disgusting.... Do it again."

anon you are so right..... <3

[nightwonder7]

I NEED NORTALICE OR FOOLSALICE ART OR I'LL COMBUST SHAHHSQH (no pressure I'm silly)