#and it does me no fucking good because I still feel like shit all the time

[warmilikeit]

Isekai reader x Batfam (Neglected au)

Female reader

Chapter 4- Can't hurt the Signal

*another huge timeskip

______________________________

After a few moments your shock dies down and you've accepted you've become a public figure

Then Duke walks in...

Duke walks in-

Duke.

Holy shit Duke is here!

He looks at you confused, of course they didn't introduce you "Hey.. you uhmm" he says awkwardly

"Oh I'm Bruce's other biological kid, but I'm a civilian, nice to meet you, so you're signal right?" You smile

"How...?"

"a new vigilante appears, Bruce gets another kid, come on, it's not rocket science"

"Oh! Good morning then! I'm actually pretty new to this thing and I'm a meta!" He smiles and sits right in front of you

Wow he's shining....

Mission #1359: Hurt Duke's feelings

A neglected reader is brash, she is reluctant to interact with her family members, she is jealous when Duke, someone who hasn't been in the family that long is accepted and loved, but you aren't

Time: till the end of breakfast

Penalty: Electrocution

"(Name)! This is you right!? Oh gosh, I've been hearing about you before Bruce got me!" He looks at the newspaper "see... Im- I'm an orphan-"

"Aren't half of you are?" You say

"y-yeah, okay, I actually work at daytime-"

"I know I saw you, so... How'd you end up here?"

"Like I said... I was an orphan, I actually had a pretty normal childhood, just uhm- can we not talk about this?" His eyes wince, you know that look, the pain is still raw

You can't press in, you know how he got here, you know how he lost his parents, and you can't

When you lost your Mom, you just wanted to forget about it, sure it was unhealthy but it was easier, you were lucky that the Waynes didn't care whether you were okay mentally and left you alone, they care about Duke and you can't make Duke face this

Fuck the penalty

"it was nice to meet you Duke" you go to your bedroom

"system?"

Yes?

"I can't do it- just give it to me"

Really? Very well

This was fine, it's not like it'll kill you, what's a second time being electrocuted? Right?

______________________________

"oh god!? Miss (Name), what happened you look like you got electrocuted!" Alfred grabs a hair brush and fixes your hair

"(Name)! Let's go! We'll be late for school!" Duke waves his hands, inside the car with Damian, Tim and Cass with Jason driving....

Fuck no.

You look away and continue walking, but a hand grabs the back of your jacket and pushes you inside the car "quit acting up" Dick smiled, but you can see annoyance in those eyes

"I'm not acting up!? When have I taken the car?!" You glare and pull away from him "Just get in." He grips your arm alarmingly tight and you're sure it's going to bruise

Duke tilts his head, are you two fighting? You and Dick feel his gaze and both of you reluctantly smile at each other

"You fucking bitch what the fuck are you doing?" You ask, Jason hears and turns around "You kiss your mother with that mouth?", you raise your brow "At least my mother loved me enough to kiss me"

"Just start the car Jay, don't mind the anchor" Damian glares

Well the facade of a happy family you and Dick tried to put is long gone, you hope that when they explain to Duke later they won't twist their words

Speaking of Duke, He looks confused, "What's wrong?, Did something happen?"

Mission 1360: BE SILENT

I can't believe I have to turn this into a mission, but a neglected reader should be silent, scared and obedient towards the family, I have been accepting of your crass attitude since it doesn't affect the missions, but what it does affect is the story, DO NOT TRY TO DEFEND YOURSELF

Time: the car ride

Penalty: Electrocution

"Maybe because the Princess here should just stop running her mouth, we're taking her in, but all she gave back is nothing. She's a bitch who thinks that all of us here are nothing but mental patients that belong in Arkham", Jason's grip on the wheels tighten

Fuck the mission, you're on a failing streak and you'd like to keep it

"And by the way you snap bones like they're sticks, say you hate criminals but befriend a drug addict, you do belong in Arkham" you feel bad about talking about Roy that way, Jason's probably not even sure how you knew about Roy

You feel the car start to run faster, he's not actually going to crash a car with the people he cares about right? You look around and see out of everyone in this car

If it does crash.

You're the only one who can't save yourself.

"Jason stop!" You hear Duke shout, and the car stops immediately, it would send you out of your seat if not for your seatbelt

"This is why I didn't wanna ride the car" you glare at them, you hide your hands inside the pockets of your jacket so they wouldn't see them shaking

You see that you're a block away from school and you take the chance to get the hell out of the car, "Wait! (Name)!" Duke yells, he turns to his family "What's going on!?"

______________________________

You didn't go to school yet.

You run into an empty alley, why?

Mission failed

That's why.

It's unhealthy that you are slowly starting to get used to the Electrocution

You pant and hold your heart and you sit down on the dirty concrete floor, your head is buzzing and your sweaty, your hands are shaking and you can see small zaps of electricity, you bit into your arm to muffle your screams

What the fuck are you doing, are you seriously choosing Electrocution over being insulted!?

"Didn't you want the hate meter to go up? Oh well it's UP!" You say

Not Duke's, he pities you

"You didn't say Duke was a part of this?, I thought it was only those guys!?"

That's why you needed to insult him earlier! So when you get insulted and called a bitch in the car, he'd understand you needed to be hated! But because you didn't, he now feels sorry for you and thinks the family is against you!

"The family is against me! Hello?? That's the main point of the story!"

Just- do you want the special reward or not?

"I don't even know what the special reward is!"

I can't tell you! Plus... Something's going to happen, one that can either make the hate meter go up or down, not to mention... There's a possibility the neglected reader can gain love, you can't let that happen, you'll lose the reward

"Whatever, their hatred meter is almost 100 anyway..."

But Duke can change that. You have to make him hate you as well, got it?

"Got it. Just promise me this 'special reward' is worth all of this"

It's worth more than all of this

You forgot about the newspaper.

"(Name)! You're a Wayne!??" One of your classmates came up to you

"Haha... Yeah" you laugh awkwardly

Another classmate goes near you "Why don't you use Bruce's surname?"

"Because I wanted to preserve my mom's memory" you smile

"why have I never seen you in one of the gala's

"I don't like parties" that's a lie you love them, you just don't get invited

The whole day was just you answering questions, you're partly grateful because the crowd prevented Duke to get you alone and talk about the shit show that happened in the car

When you thought it was over... You get called to the principal's office

"Miss (Name), would you like to be a student ambassador?"

(in my school, a student ambassador are students who promote the school, aka the kids you see in posters every time you see a "back to school" bill board)

"Why..?" You ask him

"Well... You are a charitable student, you're social and have good morals! You're already a model student" he says

You smile at him "Sir... I don't do this to be recognized, thank you for your offer but I'm afraid I'd have to decline"

You declined because when Dick was at school he was an ambassador, and right now so is Tim

You don't understand why he still goes to school, that guy is already the CEO

______________________________

Bruce looks at the newspaper

"helping others for years without her family knowing" he repeats

How did he not see this? Why didn't he notice that you've been helping Gotham out of your own pocket? The visits to the orphanage, the tutoring of children in poor neighborhoods

He feels guilty because he thought you were some spoiled kid who asked for too much

Now he's dreading you may have been right, the conversation two years ago...

"you're doing your best to make your already family comfortable by pretending I'm not here"

Oh god... Has he attended anything regarding you? Did he hold birthday galas for you?

He didn't

And by the way things are looking

You're perfectly fine without them.

He needs to change that

______________________________

Bruce feels like a failure.

Over the past three years he has failed to make any sort of connection with you, you seemed to be avoiding him?

And every time he does get ahold of you, you piss him off, he has to remind himself every time that he failed you as a father and he shouldn't give up on you

He tried calling you to his office and talking it out with you, he apologized for the way he treated you and that he regrets his actions but all he got was

"Do you think apologizing can make up for the years of neglect? And your children hate me, you're not going to risk them hating you as well by being nice to me, and you started this 'ignoring me' me thing, don't quit now" then you left his office

He tried throwing you a birthday party for your 13th, but you were nowhere to be found, at first he was angry, he placed so much effort into the gala only for you to not show up, you showed up late in the night and said you were out swimming with your friends, Bruce tried to yell at you, saying that you should've told him before going out and about somewhere

Then you said "How was I supposed to know you were going to celebrate my birthday? You never celebrated it before?"

Then you refused to spend your 15th with the family, specially after the incident at your 14th birthday party

Where Damian hid a small non-harming explosive in the cake and when you blew the candles out it exploded

He was going to scold Damian for that, but Barbara chimed in that this is the first time Damian played a prank and acted like a kid, was Bruce really going to punish him for having fun?

Bruce knew you had a violin concert, you invited no one but Alfred and Duke, at least you and Duke are getting along

He mourned the fact of not being able to attend your previous concerts, he bought tickets for him and the family

They were going to watch you

You were so talented... And too independent, too much of his liking, you were also kind and smart and people liked you

And he likes you too as well, you're his baby, his daughter

And he's going to do whatever to make you apart of this family

______________________________

Bruce: -100%

"Why the fuck does his hatred meter keep on going down????? What the fuck is happening?!?"

This is a problem

"Oh you think!?" You cry at the system

______________________________

Bruce: my daughter I'm sorry, let's be a family

Reader: WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING TO HIS HATRED METER

______________________________

@plsfckmedxddy @devotedlyshamelessdetective @dorkatron-2000 @yuyuzi-ling @sweetsugerskull @butratherbutrather @yu-reiii @clementinesyummy @lfiee @iamapotatoe @type-ink @unknownloner1345 @randomlyappearingartist

[tfwbluu]

KINKS

PAIRING — heeseung + f!reader

WARNINGS — praising/degrading, indirect mentions of exhibitionism, there’s safe words involved but its not directly mentioned

WORDCOUNT — 0.6K

NOTE — more kink talk people, u guys are Hornee. making a whole masterlist for all of enha for this so yeah. . lmk if i missed anything in the warnings !

He’s definitely a service top. Always prioritizes your pleasure over his own, because making you feel good gets him off too. The sweetest boy, he’d follow your lead but not without a bit of teasing here and there. Be a good girl, and he’ll treat you like royalty.

“Feels good, baby?” he asked, watching you writhe beneath him. “You sound so pretty… are you close? Cum f’ me.”

“Is this where you want me to touch?” he teased, rubbing your clothed pussy. “I need words, baby. Guide me, and I’ll follow every command.”

Hair pulling was his weakness. He loved the way it made you arch for him when he was pounding into you from behind, or how it gave him control when your lips were wrapped around him.

“Stop hiding, baby,” he growled, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your face up. “Let me hear you.” Your choked moans spilled out, only fueling his desire.

Watching you suck his cock was a sight he couldn’t get enough of. “That’s it…” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he started thrusting into your mouth, losing himself in the pleasure.

Lingerie. He loves when you’re all dolled up for him in the prettiest sets, especially after a long day. He’d worship your body, leaving marks on every inch of skin exposed. Tease him while he’s practicing—just a little peek of lace under comfy clothes—and he’d lose his mind, dragging you to the studio to fuck.

“Shit, baby. Did you have to tease me like that?” he muttered, gripping your neck as he pounded into you from behind. “Wearing slutty lingerie under baggy clothes? You planned this, didn’t you? Well, now take it.”

Cockwarming. Whether he’s gaming or producing, he loves having you cockwarm him. He’ll tease you with light thrusts, loving the way you yelp. If you get too needy and start moving, he’ll immediately abandon everything else and take you properly.

“Sit still, baby,” he murmured, holding your hips as you sank down on him. “Be good, and I’ll reward you.”

But when you couldn’t, he’d mute his mic and toss his headphones aside before fucking you properly.

“Couldn’t stay still, huh?” he growled, thrusting up into you. “Don’t want them hearing what a cockslut you are for me, hmm?”

“Fuck, if you’re needy, just say so,” he groaned, thrusting up into you, his headset forgotten.

He thrived on the balance between praising and degrading you, alternating between the two as he drove you insane. He’d worship how good you felt, only to follow it up by calling you a needy slut, loving the way you clenched around him whenever he whispered filthy things in your ear.

“Your pussy’s taking me so well, princess,” he murmured, his thumb teasing your clit. “Always such a slut for my cock, hmm?”

“Shit… just a cocksleeve for me, yeah? You like it when I use you, baby?” he groaned, smirking as he felt you tighten around him.

Considering how busy he was, he never hesitated to drag you somewhere for a quickie. He didn’t care who was around—he just needed to feel you. You could be a good girl and not get caught, right?

“Shh, baby,” he hushed, covering your mouth with his hand as he pounded into you against the wall. “Don’t want us getting caught, do you?” When he felt you clench, his smirk deepened. “Oh? Does getting caught turn you on? My dirty girl, wanna show everyone what a cockslut you are for me?”

Corruption was his favorite game. You could act all innocent for him, but he knew your body better than you knew it yourself. He adored watching you fall into his trap, craving him more with every touch.

“You can tell me to stop, and I will… but I know you won’t, right?” he teased, his lips brushing over your skin as his hands squeezed your breasts.

“Haa… that’s it, angel,” he murmured, his smile dark and full of intent as he finally tugged your panties off. “Let me take care of you, make you feel so good.”

“Too much?” he teased, a sly grin on his lips. “You know what to say if you want me to stop, angel… but you haven’t,” he murmured, his fingers curling inside you as he coaxed out more of your juices, the squelching sounds only fueling his pace.

TAGLIST — @starcrescentisz

[multiheadcanons]

MEMES AND TRAITS THE MERCS STOLE FROM SCOUT AND POORLY USE TO PISS HIM OFF

soldier: soldier started calling everything a “glizzy” after he heard scout say it exactly once. he was eating a hot dog and said “damn this glizzy is perfectly dressed.” he did not get it, he did not care enough to ask what that meant. he just started calling everything a glizzy. rockets? glizzy. ammo? glizzy. the medigun, fully charged and primed for an ubercharge? “HIT ME WITH THAT GLIZZY, DOC!” this was the beginning of the end with scout, once he got past the white knuckled shock of hearing that man say glizzy way too many times to the wrong things.

pyro: pyro eats up a whip and nae nae, no lie. they saw scout do it after a successful push of the payload, and everyone looked at scout weird, but pyro registered that smile, and those movements and committed it to heart. on the next battle, pyro physically dragged scout to a location near the edge of the map, and made a motion to stay still and watch. it freaked scout out until pyro air blasted one, two, three, four of the opposing team off the map; and after the fourth’s screams were cut short from hitting the bottom; they turned slowly to scout, and hit a whip. it’s the only time scout actually laughed. “yeah, get that shit pyro!”

demo: everything scout knows demo knew well before him, it just never came through right with his accent. but when scout started dapping people up demo was ALL IN for that. always brings scout in way too hard and knocks the wind out of him and stings his hands. “you’re not doing it right, lad! like this!” scout never wants to complain because it feels cool to get dapped up by someone he also thinks is cool, though he doesn’t want to admit that. scout does not want demo dapping up anyone else though because they’re not cool enough, except heavy he’s got no opinion on that because it’s funny to watch demo get the wind knocked out of him.

engineer: engineer hits that “gyat DAMN” often because of his accent. scout is convinced he’s using it wrong, that pisses engie off because it’s literally his accent and scout can get the fuck over himself he’s not from the first generation that made up language. sometimes to piss him off he’ll say skibidi toilet with no actual context to go around it. and scout hates that bc he hates skibidi toilet. also an enjoyer of the dap even when heavy and demo practically lift him off his feet with it.

heavy: heavy will dap people up. he loves it. makes him feel like he’s getting closer with his team. will always end a dap by pulling them in for a brief, yet crushing hug. everyone eats it up, laughing after they catch the breath he forcibly removed from their lungs and patting his arm or back, whatever the recipient can reach. also loves to say rizz, it makes his teeth vibrate in a good way. “doctor, you are a rizz master!” “demoman, keep rizzing your weapons!” “i LOVE my weapons rizz!” he doesn’t know if he’s using it right, scout just wholeheartedly assures him he’s using it right.

medic: medic heard scout say something fucks once. now, for him, EVERYTHING fucks. he himself DEFINITELY fucks. he assumed it’s a good thing. there was one time in the throes of battle, he managed to catch scout to heal him, and used the speed boost he got from it to catch up and yell over the din “you’re FUCKING today, scout!” and scout jumped his ass about how he’s not even using it right and he never wanted to hear that again. unfortunately, the doctor is a hellish bastard who loves pissing people off, so now everything does indeed fuck. he definitely fucks. “oh, my medigun? ja, that fucks. and i fuck too.” “doc, nobody wants to hear what you’re fucking, dude”. pissed scout off more when he and soldier were ubered, running into battle, and soldier said very confidently “your glizzy tops ALL OTHER GLIZZIES” and medic responded, making direct eye contact with scout in the heat of battle; “ja, my glizzy fucks.”

sniper: snipes dabbed twice in the privacy of his own nest to see how it felt and couldn’t get over his own shame that he did that. he did it twice because he alternated arms to see if it felt less stupid to do it the other way. it didn’t. he will never bring himself to do that again. that was embarrassing. has a dreadful feeling the other teams sniper saw him do it. sometimes after a really good kill streak he’ll do a small dab as a treat. he does unironically use “deadass”

spy: anything that will piss scout off spy is happy to do. spy has used words he knows does not exist to confuse scout as to the current slang going around. he’ll have scout on the internet desperately searching words that not only don’t exist, but he can’t even spell, just to make sure spy isn’t a step ahead of him. but spy is always two steps ahead of him. spy will say shit just to feel the bostonians eyes burn holes in the back of his skull, only to turn to him and say “what, you’ve never heard that before? look it up!” then hides in his room to watch him desperately search a word he can’t even spell. unironically uses “deadass” because he heard snipes say it once and it wriggled its way into his mind like a worm. he says it after like… everything.

[velvetvexations]

I’m. So baffled by that one dude saying that trans men being able to pretend to be women is a privilege, because in his tags he says that it’s a thing specific to transmascs. Does he mean pretending to be cis as a means of safety is a transmasc specific thing?? Because uh, I’m… pretty sure that’s something that can be done regardless of a trans person’s gender? There are transfems and nonbinary people who can also pretend to be cis [whatever their agab was], too?

Its also not a privilege. Having to hide what you are out of fear isn’t a fucking privilege lmao

strangely people understand that when it's about trans women

just saw a post on my dash saying "'infighting' is a dogwhistle which frames transfems as aggressors". i really hope the tide is turning like you said, bc this shit is getting exhausting and im still seeing it from random people i follow who otherwise gave no indication that they drank the koolaid.

they make me out to be the aggressor all the time!

Nazi imagery anon here

These are the pics I was referring to.

As you can see it’s posted on the verified border security account and you can see two different nazi symbols on him :(

yeah it looks like standards for what they allow soldiers to adorn themselves with are low and the person taking and posting the pics aren't paying good enough attention because that guy also straight up has a naked anime bitch on his knife sheath

as I said this is an individual thing and they need to start knocking their heads together like the Three Stooges and sending them into trenches first

You know who saying that th**fab is actually a storied term that trans fems have been using to identify transmisogonists is fucking insane like girl that's such obvious lie give us nothing

they aren't even trying

It’s crazy how almost every other day on this site I see a new post with like 50k notes talking about how absolutely NOBODY deserves to be harassed, sent death threats or be put on blast yet once again I’m seeing people trying to justify the harassment of another transmasc teenager. Honestly people should just start openly admitting Tumblr is becoming increasingly hostile towards trans masculine individuals, I don’t see clownery on this level on any other platform-

Tumblr...is really bad.

I think the reason why this whole headcanons discourse bothers me so much is that is really is just fuelled by petty spite. Like all these characters are cisgender in canon. We make headcanons because it’s FUN to expand on characters in ways that reflect our different life experiences in whatever form that may take. Intentionally going after transmascs, especially young transmascs, for doing this with characters like they like and accusing them of all these different things genuinely does just feel like bigotry. Who cares if a head canon may not make the most amount of sense? It’s a cisgender fictional character we’re playing around with! Why does it have to be some grand act of activism to say blorbo number 3 is transmasc? We have much bigger fish to fry here.

exactly it's such dedication to not letting anyone else have anything

So sick of people acting like trans men are the same as cis men under the patriarchy and moreso im really sick of the "you're privileged to not be surrounded by men". Like, for lack of better phrasing, saying that about a group of people that is generally perceived as "failure women" pre transition (and sometimes during and post) is a little tone deaf. All about acknowledging how women and people perceived as women are harmed by misogyny until the ones perceived are men. Gender essentialism is ugly and tasteless and nonsensical. Please feel free to delete this im just rambling without a point

rambling is okay anon <3

„wow ur so privileged to not fear men”

i fear the fucking everyone asshole, i just realized that isnt everyone elses fault so i should still treat them with respect !!!!!

that woman called me a "self-hating doll" and I hate the second part a lot more than the first

[dxckgrxsonx]

Between his Teeth

Pairing - Jason Todd x (F) Reader Words - 2.1k Warnings - SMUT 18+ - Explicit Sexual Content - Biting Biting BITING!! - Lil mention of choking - Unprotected Sex - Multiple Orgasms - (F) Receiving Oral - Possessive!Jason - Overstimulation - Swearing - Crying - Dirty Talk - Fluff at the End :) Notes: Happy New Year! it’s been awhile since i've posted anything of a decent length so um?? hi?? Not sure how im feeling about the quality of this but inspiration struck and here we are! i hope you enjoy <3

MASTERLIST

**

Here's the thing: there are nights in Gotham where patrol slows down. It's not a regular occurrence, something more akin to an irregularity really–but it happens. And when it does you're faced with an interesting quirk, a personality trait most would consider concerning.

Or dangerous.

Jason Todd gets bored.

His baseline as standard is marked unnatural. The death of a child recognised and reversed. Murdered soul poured back into what feels like a brand new unmarked body–everything once recognizable to him lost by a pool of Lazarus green. A pool on some nights he can still taste like bile in the back of his throat.

Patrol slows down and Jason finds himself molar deep in something terrifyingly restless.

Sometimes, the fight never materialises and Jason, who's been fighting across two different lifetimes, doesn't quite know how to react in the face of it. There's always been a cathartic edge to combat, a catch and release that leaves him breathless and exhilarated all at once. Adrenaline is one hell of a defence mechanism, swells right up to the top of his head, and if there's no decompression at the end of it his skin buzzes, eyes glowing bright and haloed in Lazarus green.

And so when patrol gets slow, Jason seeks out the brilliance of release by fucking you absolutely stupid.

**

He’s got two stupidly talented hands and they’re touching you everywhere.

The base of your spine, the shivering curve of your waist, two fingers hooked into your smart mouth to wrench every little sound out of your chest. His cock is thick and heavy and every thrust into your spasming cunt burns like he’s tearing you open.

“Fucking Christ–” A heaving, half delirious whine vibrates against his fingers like a phantom echo of your voice and Jason grins when your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He grins because taking you to pieces like this is the absolute best, most unbelievably satisfying way to burn through the frightening magnitude of energy stirring in his veins. “Ugh shit! Are you coming again? You greedy little thing.”

He can feel you squeezing at his cock, your pussy clenched up so tight it’s almost like fucking his own goddamn fist.

Jason pulls his fingers from your mouth–the digits now dripping in spit–and curls them oh so sweetly around your throat. He tightens his grip, forces you to work for your breath and the drag of air under his palm forces blood to swell up to Jason's head.

He watches you carefully, catalogues the curve of your mouth, the way your eyes roll into the back of your skull, the bliss and trust you tuck under his skin.

Fingers flex tighter and your mouth moves but instead of words, he gets a low, drawn out moan.

“Of course you are. You just can’t help it, can you?” He pulls his hand up and away from your throat, grabs firmly at your chin, and you jolt like a live wire, eyelids fluttering, thighs shaking horribly around his hips. Pressing forwards, Jason grunts at how wet you are, the base of his cock ringed in your creamy arousal. “You can take it though. You will take it. Just for me, because you’re such a good girl.”

A broken noise drags up your throat and Jason gets the flaring urge to have something–fucking anything–between his teeth.

It's not the first time he's looked at you and clamped his jaw around the desire to mark you. The possessive flicker igniting something of near biblical proportion in his veins. You're something wonderful. A person he adores beyond measure.

There's times you look at him like he's everything and it makes him feel brand new, born into a universe where home is nothing but you and your two hands that have never once hurt him.

He thinks the urge comes from that, comes from the desperation of wanting to broadcast you as his, of never wanting to be apart.

Your head tips back, throat bare, and Jason doesn’t hesitate–not even for one single second–a feral sort of thing bubbling up from the bottom of his spine.

He bites you.

He bites you so hard your vision collapses in on itself, existence bursting into a kaleidoscope of colour.

Jason sinks his teeth into the sensitive skin above your pulse point and you choke as if he’s slipped a knife underneath your rib to steal your breath. You choke and you clench up so tight around his cock he can’t fucking move.

Your knees draw up in a desperate attempt to wedge between you, back arching into the bed. You twist your hips against his weight and you grab at his shoulders, his hair, nails scratching a long line down his back, but Jason simply renders you immobile, reminds you he’s buried balls deep in your pussy and has no intention of being anywhere else.

It’s not quite pain, but it’s a blunt sort of thing at the very edge of the scale and blood rushes up under your skin to greet each indent left behind. The sting of it detonates something permanent in your psyche, life unmoored between his teeth.

Jason pulls back and he licks at his teeth, there’s no blood, but the action alone makes you swelter nonetheless. You think it might be the look on his face, the flicker of something promising devastation in his eyes.

“Fuck you.” It’s your own voice, breathless, trapped between aggravation and arousal. “How am I supposed to cover that up?”

Jason drags his fingers down to your cunt and rubs at your fat, swollen clit. Every thought fractures apart in your mouth, vowels and consonants splintering into pieces that dissolve on your tongue. You know that’s what he wanted. You don’t care.

“You’re mine.” Jason says, like that in itself is an explanation. “You’re mine and no one else’s.”

The bite mark on your throat looks brutal even to his own eyes. A perfect match to every tooth in his mouth. Your skin is starting to puff up a little, irritation blossoming into a wicked bruise. Jason hums–mostly to himself–and fucks into you hard enough that there’s an obscene squelch of your pussy every time he bottoms out.

You’re perfect. You’re his. He wants you to come again.

“I can’t. Ah fuck! Not again–” The pitch of your voice climbs when his pace fails to falter, sticky fingers still strumming at your clit. He can feel it throbbing despite you coming twice already, and he wonders how many he can get out of you this time. “Jason–I don’t think…I can’t.”

“That’s it, empty that pretty little head of yours. You don’t need to think, y’just need to keep squeezing that sweet cunt around my cock, yeah? You’re so wet for me, and you know what that means?”

A sobs works free from your mouth, thighs clenching tight around his strong hips, each thrust into your peach flesh cunt makes Jason feel like he’s bursting out of his own skin. You close your eyes in the face of pure, overwhelming pleasure and he can see how wet your lashes are.

“Ugh–no don’t–” A whimper hooks into the back of your throat. “Don’t fucking say it.”

Jason grins, half wicked, even though he knows you can’t see it, “It means you like this, little bird. You might complain and try to get away, but your pretty little pussy can’t lie to me.” Your face screws up. Jason fucks you harder, his thick thighs smacking against your ass. He pauses his movements on your clit and listens to the pitch of your whine wobble in disappointment. “You want to come again, don’t you? Hm. No. You need to come again.”

“Nooo.” You try, embarrassment flustering up your neck. “I can’t. Please. S’too much.”

Your eyes blink open and Jason thinks it’s so sweet when you’re on the verge of tears whilst he’s fucking you. Your hands reach out to grab his shoulders, to search for comfort, and you cry out his name when he touches your poor, oversensitive clit. Jason licks at the mark on your throat, his tongue catching against the swell of your near broken skin and your cunt tries to force him out.

"Let me fuck your pussy, sweetheart. Don't push me out like that."

Another desperate cry when he forces your pussy to yield to his powerful thrusts and you suddenly gush around his cock. Wetness soaks his thighs and Jason huffs in amusement when he hears you heave in a strangled breath, then sob, tears streaming down your face.

You’ve never done that before.

By the time he’s finished–by the time he’s worked through the insistent pulse of pure restlessness and settled back into what he considers a post patrol, or postcoital haze–he thinks he’ll make you do that once more at least.

**

Jason quietly appears behind you the next afternoon as you glance in the mirror, gentle fingers probing at the huge mark splattered on your neck.

His approach is eclipsed by silence and you’re struck with the awe of how quiet he can be when he wants to. The talent and skill that must go into knowing how to plant yourself so no sound escapes your trajectory, it’s staggering, and slightly alarming.

You can easily trace the outline of Jason’s bite and there’s a heavy sort of discomfort when you touch it; the sensation of pressing on a bruise in the early stages of healing, not painful but heavy and aching, impossible to ignore.

The corner of Jason’s mouth twitches upwards when your face flickers into a slight flinch, almost like he wants to smile in a self-satisfied sort of way–how typical of him to find satisfaction in something that has you labelled as owned (loved) but you meet his reflection in the mirror and settle on a half-hearted scowl.

“You’re a real dick, Todd. You know that?”

Tugging the neckline of your hoodie up, you just barely manage to cover the mark.

“It’s hard to take you seriously when you’re not wearing pants.” Jason points out, redirecting the conversation by eyeing you appreciatively. “And I don’t remember you complaining about it last night.”

Memory sparks-your own desperate, fucked out voice flaring to the forefront-and you feel heat splash up your throat.

Ducking your head to avoid Jason's stare seems like a good idea, but you know with absolute certainty that he'll request you look at him regardless–he might even press a finger under your chin to tilt your head up–all because he wants to watch you fumble over your words like an idiot.

“Yeah, uh–that’s because you fucked me stupid.” He grins wolfishly at that, then his eyes flash with either an idea, or interest. Both of which are dangerous. “Whatever you’re thinking of doing…don’t.”

Smoothing his hands from your waist, down to your hips, then the curve of your ass, Jason drops to his knees behind you. Your stomach swoops, the beat of your heart slipping temporarily out of rhythm. He hums thoughtfully and presses a kiss to the small of your back, then tugs your underwear to the side so one cheek is bare.

Confusion kicks up in your head, brain following one thread whilst Jason in typical fashion follows his own, “You've already eaten me out at least once today, for the love of fuck give me a break. Aren't you tired of eating me out?”

Jason positively growls.

"Don't ask me stupid questions." He grumbles, his tone nothing but a hard edge. "I'll never get tired of tasting your pretty cunt."

You figured that out already. Waking with his head between your thighs, talented tongue lapping at your swelling clit until you sigh his name so prettily, falling apart as he holds you open by sheer force. Reminded again when you settle down for lunch in the kitchen and Jason sits you on the counter so he can nose at your slit, mouth wrapping around your sensitive clit and sucking until you cry.

Sometimes he might as well be dating your pussy and not you.

You feel the warmth of his breath for a single, shining moment, "Then what the hell are you doin–"

He bites you.

On your goddamn ass cheek.

“There. Now you can’t complain because the only person who’s going to see that is me.”

Spinning around in retaliation you glance down and level Jason with a glaringly unimpressed look, “Yeah, congratulations. But you’ve failed to consider one very important thing.”

“No I haven't." He scoffs, rolling his eyes. "What else is there to consider?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to sit down?”

**

[reignpage]

one of your responses to an ask gave me the idea, how the Eden au couples spend the New Year’s Eve? How they celebrate when it’s midnight?

not proofread

gojo and reader:

they throw the biggest party of the year in true gojo fashion and reader mingles for a little before disappearing into a quieter room. gojo pops in once in a while to say hi and tell her all the gossip. then near midnight, he leads her to a balcony overlooking the garden and he sweeps her around, slow dancing to idk a Nicki Minaj song or whatever's playing on the speakers as they countdown.

and he says, 'I'd die for you, I'd kill for you, either way what bliss' and just as she's about to scold him for being so cheesy he kisses her, stealing her breath, and they kiss for far longer than they need to. when they part, they giggle as the fireworks go off in the background

geto and reader:

they attend Gojo's party just cause gojo would throw a fit if they didn't, and at around 11, they excuse themselves and drive up to a cliff overlooking the city. they'll talk about the year, looking back at the highs and lows, having a heart to heart as they picnic at night. then at midnight, they peck and proceed to eat their grapes. the rest of the night is spent talking about their resolutions and their goals, planning their future together whilst they watch the city celebrate

choso and reader:

they stay in. they're all comfy on the couch in matching pjs reader picked out, watching the new years countdown. they've likely just had a thorough sex session where reader made choso cum 12 times or something so choso is tapped out, barely watching and he has no idea what time it is but when reader pecks him on the lips and says happy new year cho cho, he just smiles and mutters it back, feeling excited to do it all again with reader

toji and reader:

they stop by all the parties their friends are throwing, just to say hey and grab some free food and gift bags, and then they return home, for some sweet but still rough sex, with toji trying to get her to cum 12 times for good luck, and when she's thoroughly fucked out, like literally drowning in her own drool, he gives her a sloppy kiss and says 'happy new year ma, fucking love ya'

nanami and reader:

gojo would have begged reader to attend his party, talking about how it's never a party without her, but she tells him she's retired her party ways. gojo pouts but he gets it, he's retired his party ways too, he just wanted an excuse to see her

the lovebird stay in, playing board games, having a nice dinner and talking about their favourite moments of the year and all their plans for the next. near midnight, reader excuses herself and comes back out in a sexy magician's bunny costume or something, with the ears, fluffy tail and everything and says, 'here's to a magical year kenny'

he's gobsmacked, like literally shocked into silenced, then he stumbles over to her, says 'how did I get so lucky' and kisses her right as the clock strikes midnight and fireworks sound out. they don't get a wink of sleep that night

sukuna and reader:

they have to host a party as reps of the Ryomen empire. it's not a party like Gojo's, more like a stuffy business meeting. they both hate it but they play along, rubbing elbows with senators and ceos. midnight passes and they aren't even together to celebrate it. sukuna is livid. he starts threatening people to fuck off, the party ends and people leave at around 1am. reader sends everyone off and has to go find sukuna. he's in the bath smoking, ranting about how he needs to wash their filth away, how they're all so fucking stupid and ugly, and if he has to do it again he'll kill himself

reader sits on the tub and cups water, letting it fall over his shoulders as she hums. he does this every single time and though he's more mad tonight, she knows it's just because he's bottled things up too much. she suggests they go on a holiday. he says it's not enough, that when they come back, it'll be the same shit over and over again. he takes a drag of his cig.

reader says, 'just tell me exactly what it is that you're so upset about, my petulant king'. she's teasing him because she knows he's mad he didn't get a kiss. he catches onto her tone and growls, 'fuck you' before dragging her into the bath with a huge splash. she resurfaces, spluttering and trying to catch her breath, he kisses her as punishment and says, 'happy fucking new year my manipulative queen'

[tyrantisterror]

At Sea Without a Map Post-Script

After two months of so, my little writing experiment At Sea Without a Map has come to an end. And because I'm vain, I not only felt compelled to share it, but to talk about it in depth after the fact, so here we are. This is going to be long, though, so I'm not only going to break it into sections, but put it all under the cut for the sake of your dashboard. So go ahead and dive into the depths of the Sea of Monsters with me one more time!

Part 1: Never Stop Blowing Up

The writing process of Wizard School Mysteries Book 3 was really strained - not because of the book itself, mind you. When I was actually able to work on it, Book 3 came together really well - I think it required the least substantial rewrites of any my novels thus far. It's just that real life was kind of beating the shit out of me while I was trying to get it done - or maybe the better metaphor was that it was just slowly but steadily draining me of energy all the time. I'm honestly surprised I got the book out in roughly the same amount of time as the first two - by the way life had been treating me, it should have taken longer.

But when I got done with it I was accutely aware of how tired I was. I still had the creative drive, but fuck I needed something simple as a palette cleanser - something easy, and more importantly, something that was allowed to be bad. I needed something creative to do that was surplus to requirements and fully within its rights to suck ass so long as I had fun making it.

Around this time, I decided to rewatch Dimension 20's Never Stop Blowing Up. Brief explanation of what that is: Dimension 20 is an actual play show, i.e. a recording of people playing D&D and other TTRPGs. I'd say its reputation is built on the contrast of its main DM, Brennan Lee Mulligan, who makes these meticulously crafted campaign plans, and his chaotic band of improv comedian players who promptly derail those plans spectacularly. Like, a good deal of the show's humor comes from Emily Ashford or Ally Beardsly doing something so off-the-wall that it shatters whatever the scene was going to be and creates a far more absurd and zany spectacle in its place. Which is why Never Stop Blowing Up is pretty notable, because it's the one campaign where Brennan himself is the agent of chaos, fully unleashing his own brand of madness that the players struggle to keep up with. And fuck does he seem to have fun with it.

Of course, all of the analysis above is purely from the outside looking in - it's likely that a lot of the "chaos" is played up for the audience. But still... there is something to the idea of a person who's been working on meticulously structured stories letting loose and just doing something extremely stupid.

So I decided to give myself a Never Stop Blowing Up moment - a short story that would be simple by design, with no standards to live up to or goal beyond "have fun telling a silly little story." I then came up with a few key criteria:

It can't be set in the Midgaheim/ATOM universe. I don't want the burden of figuring out where this story would fit among others.

It's gotta be a romance. People who've read my books might have picked up on the fact that I like to write about people falling in love, for the same reason I like to write about fire-breathing reptiles and friendly monsters (i.e. I use writing to indulge in things I'll never experience in real life). I've only used romance as subplots in my fiction before, and tend to feel a bit guilty if I focus on it too long - like I'm being self indulgent. Well, this is all about self indulgence, so the romance should be front and center.

It's gotta be SIMPLE, episodic even. Not complex plotting required.

I almost chose my xenomorph romance for this, but I had developed its outline to the point where it would be too complex to fit. I then considered a sort of superhero story that could be pitched as "what if Bringing Up Baby but Katherine Hepburn's character is a Harley Quinn-esque supervillain and Cary Grant's character gets turned into some sort of horrifying genetic mutant in the first ten minutes." That one hit a weird roadblock when I got to the character brainstorming phase (the first phase of any writing project I do) - I was trying to figure out what the mad scientist who turns out Cary Grant-figure into a mutant would be named, came up with the name "Dr. Skullfuck," immediately realized that having a character named "Dr. Skullfuck" is a Mark Millar-ass writing move that I could not allow myself to do, but then couldn't stop thinking of the name "Dr. Skullfuck" and giggling, which just brought all thinking to a grinding halt on that project.

(I'll still probably do it someday, though - just, you know, without Dr. Skullfuck)

Inspiration struck again, though. I'd been getting into Epic: The Musical, a musical retelling of The Odyssey, and it put me in the mood for a sea monster story. But, more than that, it got me thinking about one particular archetype from sea monster stories - but that brings us to the next part of this Post Script...

Part 2: It Was Always About Calibani

Ok, so, one of the big changes Epic: The Musical made involved Odysseus's encounter with the sirens, and before you read more of my rambling, I'd like you to watch two animatics for the two songs in question here:

A summary: one of the sirens takes the form of Odysseus's wife to try and tempt him into getting in the water, Odysseus tricks her into giving him directions, captures her and the rest of her kind, and proceeds to have his men slaughter them horribly. In the OG story the sirens don't die - nor does their song involve imitating a man's wife, for that matter, it's just a really pretty song.

This is done for an important narrative purpose - Epic: The Musical is focused on analyzing the moral ambiguity of Odysseus, and how it is constantly challenged by the impossible choices he is forced to make in his attempt to get home. At this point in the musical, Odysseus has decided to stop trying to be a compassionate man, shirking all mercy in favor of utter ruthless pursuit of his goals. These two songs are meant to be unsettling as hell - this is the beginning of a series of heartless choices by both Odysseus and his men that will culminate in the mutiny and complete annihilation of Odysseus's crew, as well as Odysseus himself being so hopelessly stranded that nothing short of divine intervention will save him.

I bring this up because when I first heard these two songs - specifically while watching these two animatics - it, like... it devastated me. I was so horrified and sad, so shaken by it. And part of it was for the reasons outlined above, but admittedly that wasn't the gut reaction I had. No, my immediate reaction was, and I quoute my own broken brain verbatim here: "You can't kill the sirens! They're not for killing, they're for loving!"

...now, those of you who know me are probably not surprised by this very stupid sentiment coming from me. One of my more popular posts is just me talking about how down bad I would be for various folkloric monsters whose whole shtick is "looks like a pretty lady but Watch Out." But as a person filled with immense self loathing and doubt, my brain immediately looked at that very stupid sentiment I expressed and said, "Wait, no, that's fucking dumb, I'm fucking dumb. The sirens are remorseless murderers. These sirens in particular preyed upon a man's love for his wife, who he has not seen in twelve years, to convince him to let them kill him. They are, by all standards of morality, Very Fucking Evil, and if they were not women you would not feel bad about them getting killed."

And as my brain argued with itself over this topic, I got to thinking about the various monstrous/othered sea women of The Odyssey - not just the sirens, but the witch Circe, the nymph Calypso, the monsters Scylla and Charybdis. And I thought about the others of their kind in other myths and folktales - selkies, mermaids, etc.

There's an archetype of sea monster that focuses entirely on one specific anxiety sailors are prone to, namely the fact that (for a good deal of human history) being on a boat meant spending a lot of time away from women. The horror of this monster is how it uses that desire for female company to tempt people into danger - like a mirage, it leads you to expose yourself to danger in pursuit of an illusory comfort.

But, unlike real world mirages, these monstrous sea women DO exist in their stories. More than that, they're often, like, sad and lonely. Their narrative purpose is just to be a temptation, but that doesn't change the fact that they do have lives of their own in these worlds. And, softie that I am, I can't help feeling sad for them, especially the ones who actually seem to want the same companionship the sailors they tempt want. Sailors don't stay with their Circes, they don't marry their Calypsos. The sirens live on a barren rock, alone, Scylla is left to wallow in misery at her monstrous form, and the selkie always has to leave for fear of being trapped by a person who won't love her on her terms.

I realized I had my hook for this simple, easy, silly little sea monster romance story: I was going to give a sea woman the happy ending she'd never get from anyone else.

Sailor may be the protagonist, but make no mistake: At Sea Without a Map was always, always, ALWAYS about Calibani.

The goal with Calibani was simple: I was going to set up a fairly standard Monstrous Sea Woman, but where other stories would let her be in one episode of the travel narrative and move on, this one would stick around. She'd be an unambiguous predator of human beings - an open and admitted maneater - but she would have no true malice to her. She, like all predators, eats what she can get to survive, and it just so happens that she's adapted to eat humans. And the story would pose the same question to the reader that my brain posed to me during Different Beast: is there any way you could make a siren-style sea monster sympathetic? Can you make a normal person who doesn't have my particular brain rot look at a maneating siren and think, "You're not supposed to kill her, you're supposed to love her!"

One of the few unavoidable plot points of At Sea Without a Map was that Calibani and Sailor's relationship would become romantic. What kind of romance it was could have varied substantially - it could have been one-sided, it could have been toxic, it could have been far more tragic OR far more comedic. But it was always, always going to be a romance of some sort - the goal of this experiment was to make you, the reader, love Calibani. All else was icing on the cake.

I decided to base Calibani's personality on Miranda from The Tempest - i.e. a sweet girl who is both wordly and naive, who understands the strange setting of our "lost at sea" story far better than the audience viewpoint character does, but views the mundane world of the audience viewpoint character with wonder and naiveté. In fact I almost named her Miranda outright... except I already had a character in the setting I chose for this story who had that name, and as an allusion to the same Shakespearean character no less. So I settled on naming her after Miranda's adoptive sibling (of sorts), Caliban - more fitting in some ways, as Caliban is a fish-human hybrid who is arguable more native to the magic island in The Tempest than Miranda herself.

(Calibani isn't the only Tempest name homage, either - her mother, Sycorax, takes her name directly from Caliban's unseen but oft-spoken of witch mother. Dr. Antonia Warefore takes her first name from Antonio, one of the human villains in The Tempest who hopes to use being lost at sea as a way to perform a coup. And the mothman Iriel takes her name from Ariel, the wind spirit in The Tempest who aids the wizard Prospero in controlling the magic island. If Sailor has a "real" name, it's probably either Ferdinand or Miranda, the two lovers who manage to blend civilization and the wilderness together with their romance.)

Visually, I wanted Calibani to not be any common archetype of sea monster woman, but rather something that evokes the popular images while still being her own thing. She's not a mermaid or a siren or a selkie - she's basically "what if a sea serpent was also a girl." In-universe, she's chubby because she, like all marine megafauna, needs blubber to survive. Out-of-universe, she's chubby because I've found that routinely drawing cute chubby girls is good for my mental health.

Part 3: CYOA

Now, while we live in a post-Muncher society where shame and cringe are emotions only the cowardly should experience, I am nonetheless Very Catholic about expressing my own feelings of, like, liking girls and shit. I cannot help feeling guilty when publicly expressing adoration of women without, like, an excuse - it's gotta be a joke or something, you know? I can't be genuine about it, or else Jesus will beat me with a cane for disrespecting women with my lecherous gaze.

But luckily I've cultivated a loyal audience of fellow monsterfuckers, which meant I had an excuse lined up: if I made this a choose your own adventure type deal, a story with audience participation, then you all would be my accomplices. And Jesus can't cane all of us! He doesn't have enough hands! I found a loophole bigger than his stigmata!

Plus I love collaborative story-telling - there's a thrill in not having total control of where the narrative is going. As Brennan Lee Mulligan must know, there's a joy in having to deal with the chaos thrown your way by letting others grab the figurative ball, even if just for a moment.

Part 4: Offbeat Melody

Since I did not want to set this story in Midgaheim, I decided to steer myself away from a vaguely medieval setting altogether. But I also didn't want to limit myself with the need for "realism" that putting it in a normal sea would require, and making a new setting whole cloth would start pushing this project into "not easy" territory.

Luckily, I had a setting lying around that I hadn't played with in a while, which just so happened to have a location that was PERFECT for the sort of Never Stop Blowing Up style madness I was aiming for. For a few years I ran a Monster of the Week TTRPG campaign called Offbeat Melody, and one of its core setting elements was taking the goblin universe hypothesis in paranormal science (yeah it's a real hypothesis) to an illogical extreme. We had specifically seen glimpses of the Sea of Monsters in Offbeat Melody, i.e. the parallel universe where monsters like Nessie, Ogopogo, Champ, and the like all hail from. Well, why not have a whole story set there? It's literally a universe devoted solely to creating sea monsters - what better place to strand our modern Odysseus?

Offbeat Melody was always sort of a Never Stop Blowing Up project, or at least NSBU adjacent. Some of my most unhinged story-telling moments are in that campaign - you could make a supercut of just the "commercial breaks" in the various sessions and it'd basically be an I Think You Should Leave episode. Taking one obscure corner of its multiversal world and exploring it in detail was perfect for this project.

Part 5: Monster by Monster

With our main romance as sorted out as could be for a CYOA story, it was time to figure out the "episodes" of this sea voyage. I settled on there being ten to roughly align with The Odyssey - just in terms of number, mind you, not in a one-to-one comparison. The first was, obviously, Calibani herself, which left nine more slots for me to fill with monsters. Let's go through them together in brief:

Tree Storks - any lost at sea story eventually has to get its protagonist into an island at some point, but this immediately begs the question, "Why don't they just stay on the island where it's safe?" The answer to that question has to be, "it's not safe there, actually." The Odyssey does this quickly and cleverly with a one two punch: the first island seems safe until you realize the food on it brainwashes you into forgetting everything except your desire to eat it, and the second island is full of delicious sheep but also giants who will eat you just as easily as they eat the sheep. When other islands show up in the story later, you immediately regard them with suspicion, because you don't know HOW they're going to be fucked up, but they definitely will be. My goal with the second episode was to establish the same sort of danger - that land is NOT safe, that islands WILL be fucked up and dangerous in ways you might not expect.

I also wanted to establish that this is not just a sea of monsters, but a very WEIRD sea of WEIRD monsters. It couldn't be any old monster on this island - it had to be one that was unique, unexpected, and maybe just a bit silly while still being menacing.

I've always felt that there's a lot of un-mined horror potential in storks, cranes, and herons - any bird with a long neck and spear-like beak it uses to stab smaller creatures from above. Just imagine yourself in a frog's place in the world - tiny, going about your business, when suddenly something shoots down at you from above and impales you before you even feel the shadow fall over your face. Or perhaps you did see the shadow - some of these birds spread their wings to create shade specifically to attract fish, and then spear the poor little bastards.

Well, what do people often look to islands for when out at sea? Shade - the shade of a palm tree. And palm fronds kinda resemble feathers, don't they? Wouldn't it be both ludicrous and terrifying is there was a stork big enough to mimic a palm tree - and wouldn't that be a DEVIOUS trap for a sun-drenched sailor to fall for? So the Tree Storks were born.

The Globster - I made a list of sea monster archetypes in the early planning for this project, and one I wanted to include was a kraken, i.e. some sort of tentacled sea beast. But I didn't want to do JUST a big squid or octopus, or even a riff on them. I wanted to take the idea of "big sea monster with lots of tentacles" into a stranger direction.

Since the Sea of Monsters is explicitly the home universe of lake and sea monster cryptids, I thought it might be fun if ASWaM's kraken equivalent was a globster - just a big ball of rotten meat. I love drawing monstrous faces, so I decided it'd just be, like, MADE of hideous rotten faces, all melting and congealing together, with its tentacles doubling as the tongues of its many mouths. A perfectly wretched image that, like the Tree Storks, would do well to establish how Fucked things could get in this setting. Plus similar monsters had appeared in Offbeat Melody, which would make for a fun sense of familiarity for the, like, five or so readers of mine who had listened to that campaign before.

Captain Peter & the Dolphin - Another thing I did in the early planning stages of this project was make a list of the different sea voyage stories I know and love, the most contentious of which is The Life of Pi. That's a story that I love on a literal level but kind of hate on a figurative level - its whole theme/message is that doubt is the worst thing you can have, that if you don't commit to believing something with zealous conviction you are a coward. As a person who thinks doubt is valid, that "I don't know" is sometimes the ONLY truly valid answer to a question, I have issues with that message.

But I can't help loving the beautifully ludicrous idea of a non-anthropomorphic tiger sailing the ocean on a big Odyssey of its own. Like, if that story didn't actively hate me for being agnostic, it would be one of my favorites.

So I decided to, you know, just steal the idea of a tiger Odysseus. The tiger in The Life of Pi is named Richard Parker. Richard Parker also happens to be the name of Peter Parker's dad. Hence we get Captain Peter - the figurative son of Richard Parker, if you will. And to ratchet up the absurdity of a tiger Odysseus, I made him a pirate and the sole sailor of his voyage. Somehow, this tiger has manned a boat on his own.

Captain Peter was intended to be the hero of another story - a sign for the readers that it IS possible for a stranded person (or, in this case, tiger) to survive out here. To that end, he had to rescue our heroes from another threat, but not one that would be interesting enough to take the focus off of the tiger pirate. Originally I planned for that threat to just be a big shark, but I ended up liking my shark design too much to put it in a role that small, so I quickly designed a nasty dolphin for the role instead. I think that worked out well, honestly.

Dr. Neptune - Episodes 5 and 6 were the mid-point of this journey, so I wanted the two monsters of those to escalate things significantly. I figured episode 5 was probably a good place to FINALLY give some meaningful exposition on what was going on, and there are a lot of stories about mad scientists doing weird shit on islands in my big list of sea voyage stories I love. So we get Dr. Neptune, a classical brain-in-a-jar mad scientist who's affable enough to give more-or-less accurate exposition but loony enough to be a problem. This also felt like a good spot to remind the reader that Calibani is not just a girl with a tail but rather a Sea Monster herself, and one that we'd been making stronger by allying with.

With his human-but-not-quite nature and cyclops eye, Dr. Neptune could sort of be seen as the Polyphemus of this story, couldn't he?

The Crocodisle - One of the sea monster archetypes on my list was "the island that's actually a sleeping monster," of which there are many in mythology and folklore. My favorite is the Jasconius from the voyage of St. Brendan, mainly because it's more or less benign and actually comes back to help St. Brendan and his crew at the end of the story. I always love when I can find an old story with a friendly monster in it.

When thinking of my own spin on the island monster concept, I remembered the only Magic the Gathering card I had as a kid, which I still have and love to this day: The Sandbar Crocodile. This card already inspired Crocogon's color scheme in The Atomic time of Monsters, but I felt I could go to that well again one more time, and so made a crocodile that wasn't just a sandbar, but a whole damn island to itself. And, like Jasconius, it turns out he's pretty chill.

I did not think of the pun name "Crocodisle" until I was actually writing the chapter in question.

The Femdom Mermaids - These three were a late addition to the roster. When I had Calibani bring up mermaids early in the story, I realized as soon as I wrote her rant about them that we'd HAVE to meet some later on in the story.

The readers had significantly shaped Calibani and Sailor's romance by this point, and I decided that it could be useful to have a chapter that was devoted to showing definitively how these two were good for each other. I thought the mermaids could provide a good contrast: have them act out a seemingly more benign take on the monstrous sea women trope (they abduct our hero to protect and care for them!) only for it to quickly feel MORE deranged than Calibani's comparatively simple desire just to eat him.

The spirit of Calibani's rant about mermaids was taken from weird* girls I knew in high school complaining about cheerleaders, so I wanted the mermaids to look like the sea monster equivalent of popular kids to Calibani's chubby weird girl. Two of them got the names of famous beauties - Helyne = Helen of Troy, Clio = Cleopatra.

(*when I say "weird" I mean it in a complimentary and affectionate sense)

Bob, meanwhile, kinda... rebelled, I guess? Before I had names for them, I listed "bob" by her as just, like, a descriptor for her hair cut, but then I liked it as her name, and once she was named Bob she became more than just a mean popular girl. She was a weirdo too, the little punching bag of the two mean popular girls who did their dirty work and smiled through their abuse because hey, at least they included her. It gave the trio an easily defined dynamic, helped make two of the three more visibly nasty, and gave us comic relief in an arc that could very well have gotten too uncomfortable otherwise.

And I guess it worked - readers REALLY loved Bob, and were very vocal about it, and I realized mid-arc that I had accidentally made her too likable to just leave in this arc. So Bob got to be rescued from her awful friend group thanks to readers like YOU.

Lord Ironteeth - yeah, this was the shark that was too cool to be a minor threat. When I drew his noggin, I realized he would need a chapter of his own, one with gravitas. I decided he'd specifically be the threshold guardian -once we beat him, we'd know for sure how to get home, even if there were a few more threats in store.

Spindle Inc and Sycorax - when I was a kid I used to have this recurring nightmare about being on some sort of underwater sea station that had this huge sea serpent trapped inside it. I'd look at the sea serpent from a window within the station and see it coiling in its tank, only for it to look at me with fury. In that glance I would suddenly realize two things with absolute clarity: first, it was going to break free and kill everyone, and second, we deserved that destruction for what we had done to it. The terror of the dream was less that the sea serpent was going to break free, and more the guilt of knowing that all the mayhem that was about to unfold was our fault to begin with.

I thought that would be fun to homage with the penultimate chapter of this story. OBVIOUSLY the sea serpent was Calibani's mom, obviously the trauma of its capture was why Calibani grew into a predator that specializes in hunting humans, obviously we would have to free the sea serpent despite that running counter to Sailor's goal of getting home. Easy, easy, easy plot point to include.

Spindle, Inc. is the primary antagonistic force in Offbeat Melody, so they easily slotted into the role of the arrogant humans who captured this monster for nefarious and selfish motives. They could tie a lot of other plot threads together too - Dr. Neptune was a scientist who worked for them as a contractor only to get screwed over (i.e. they stranded him in the Sea of Monsters, expecting him to die, and then used his research to make their own base of operations in it), we'd learn of him through a spindle briefcase left behind by some unfortunate rogue agent who got eaten by the Globster while he was trying to escape, hell they could even be one of the possible origins of Sailor themself (more on that later). Very useful villains, Spindle.

The Abyssal Mother - I knew the last sea monster would need a lot of punch to it. I briefly considered just a big whale - the Moby Dick to Spindle's corporate Ahab - but it felt underwhelming after all that came before. So I went for arguably the most dramatic possible sea monster, a full on Cthulhu-style elder god. If you're a frequent follower of this blog, you might know I have particularly high standards for Eldritch Abominations, so I realized this was going to be a pretty big challenge for me to live up to, and decided to keep the cthulhu in question reserved to the last few entries as a result - the less it appears, the less it has to live up to.

I realized I had a good angle when my experiments with the Cthulhu "squid for a head" concept ended up having a face framed in shadow - you know, the same visual that our protagonist has in most appearances. That provided some very juicy parallels between the two that made this final monster feel particularly noteworthy to me, ones that I'll leave you to ponder, since they tie into...

Part 6: Themes

I did not set out to have a theme in this story. I just wanted to make a sailor and a sea monster kiss. That was my only goal.

But I really don't begin with theme in ANY of my writing. I figure out topics I want to address, but for all my novels I feel like the themes didn't start coming together until about halfway through the first draft, when enough of the elements of the story had been set down and interacted with each other enough for me to realize what I was saying with them. A huge part of my second and third drafts for my novels have focused on making the themes of my stories more concrete and unified.

Well, ASWaM is very much a first draft of a story, but it's a simple enough story that I think the theme found itself pretty well despite lacking subsequent drafts to refine it.

ASWaM is about doubt and direction. It's about being adrift in a world that is in many ways hostile by nature, about not feeling like you're where you're supposed to be or even WHO you're supposed to be, and about setting off aimlessly in the hope that maybe you'll find your way to that mythical land of "what my life is supposed to be."

When I began the story, Sailor had amnesia and wore clothes that obscured their identity as a way to make it easier for anyone to step into Sailor's role. Sailor had to feel like You, the Reader, and so we don't know their name, their gender, their eye color, their hair color, even their skin color (note that their hands are always wearing gloves, and their face is always in shadow).

But it also meant Sailor is, well, undefined, at least at the start of the story. Sailor doesn't know who they are, what they are, how they came to be. Sailor feels distinctly that they should be Something Else, should be Somewhere Else, should be Someone Else, should not be who/what/where they are. Sailor is plagued by doubt, by a need to go in a different direction, by a need to be other than they are.

This initially contrasts with Calibani, who begins the story very confident that she is doing exactly what she was designed to be doing and acting exactly like she should be. As they interact, they begin to shift each other in opposite directions - Calibani questions her existence and nature, sometimes to a self destructive degree, and Sailor begins to find something about who and where they are that they like. They find a healthy middle ground together - doubtful enough to want to be better people, but with love for themselves that allows them to not feel the need to up-heave their lives entirely.

I knew at the start that I would build an expectation for there to be some answer to the question of who Sailor is and where they came from, because those are the questions that begin the whole narrative. I brainstormed a number of answers to those questions, but once I got a few chapters into writing the story and saw this theme of doubt developing, I realized I couldn't answer them. From a thematic standpoint, the doubt HAD to remain. So I gave hints to possible answers, bits of evidence to support the possibility of them being true, but never planted a smoking gun that answered it for sure.

Sailor can't know the answer because NONE of us know the answer. Outside of blind Life of Pi style faith, you cannot know for sure that you are living the life you're supposed to live. All you can do is figure out whether you're happy with the life you've got, or if you need a change. Sailor will never know who they are supposed to be, but they did learn who they are, and they love that person now.

For those curious, the possible Sailor origins are:

Occam's Razor: they're exactly what Dr. Neptune theorized, i.e. a human who got stranded in the Bermuda Triangle (or the Devil's Triangle or any other number of paranormal triangles) and fell into the Sea of Monsters. The trauma of that experience gave them amnesia. It's just brain damage and bad luck.

A Spindle Experiment: Dr. Warefore mentions that Spindle has been trying to find a way to make a human who can evolve like the denizens of the Sea of Monsters. Sailor may well be an attempt to do just that, perhaps one they wrote off as a failure and abandoned (they do that a lot)

A Deep One: Sailor is the offspring of one of the denizens of the Sea of Monsters (most likely the Abyssal Mother herself) who has somehow been tricked into believing they are human, to the point where they seem to be human to everyone else, even other monsters. Maybe a human summoned a sea monster to breed with on earth, and Sailor ended up being subconsciously drawn back to the Sea by their blood. Maybe Sailor never actually lived on earth at all, but was only made to THINK they had as part of the transformation into a human.

The Platonic Ideal of a Sailor: the Sea of Monsters is full of archetypal concepts, and arguably a sailor trying to find their way home is just as archetypal as any sea serpent, mermaid, or kraken. Our only proof that humans aren't native to the Sea of Monsters is Dr. Neptune, and he's not as reliable an expert as he claims to be.

This theme of doubt and direction also made the compass more important to the narrative than a simply mechanic for audience participation - a compass, after all, gives direction, and the feeling that Sailor is not where they're supposed to be, that they need to head in a different direction, is ultimately the catalyst of the plot. The compass is, in many ways, the antagonist of the story - the force that keeps Sailor from accepting themself. I realized this a little after I started making the different directions have personalities - initially they just represented broad concepts (North = follow conventional wisdom ala the North Star, South = preserve your short-term self interest at all costs, East = act with curiosity and be willing to take calculated risks, and West = throw caution to the wind and do anything that seems novel and exciting), but over time they became little characters themselves.

Since it was our thematic antagonist, I decided to pepper in some ideas about what the compass might be in-universe - and, in a move that would no doubt frustrate the compass, we also don't know for sure which of those is "correct." Is the compass a poltergeist, some amalgamation of dead sailors who try to steer other lost souls home? Is it a malign entity that leeches off of those desperate enough to seek its aid, living through them while pretending to aid them? Is it a device Spindle made to lure sailors to their clutches, OR to guide their experiments in human/monster hybrids? Was it a cursed item that forced a sea monster to assume a human shape? Who can say - the compass sure can't, it can only tell you a direction to go in.

Part 7: Q&A

Since this was an interactive story, I felt it was only fitting to add one last interactive element to this post-script write up, and some of your happily obliged me by sending in questions.

When I noticed how fast readers were falling for Calibani, I figured there was a good chance we'd end up staying in the Sea of Monsters. By chapter 7, I figured it was more or less a given, and by the end of the Lord Ironteeth encounter I was almost 100% sure Sailor would remain at sea. There was always a chance, though - while a look at the polls shows that the audience got more and more on the same page towards the end, there were always dissenting voices, and the desire to get an answer to the question of Who Sailor Was remained strong, as a number of people kept trying to find angles where they could get that AND stay with Calibani.

I was surprised early on by how easily the audience fell in love with Calibani, to the point where I made a few posts commenting on it. I mean, I shouldn't have been - as I said earlier, I have cultivated an audience of fellow monsterfuckers on here, and I know at least a few of them saw my bait and knew they could get me to be freaky in a way we found mutually agreeable (thank you all again for helping me escape being caned by Jesus for being horny).

Like, we REPEATEDLY ignored developing the plot in the Tree Storks chapter for several days just to spend more time with Calibani - something that I enjoyed immensely (this whole thing was an excuse for me to write and draw a cute chubby sea monster girl as much as possible aftter all) but also knew as a storyteller was not what most would consider a good story call. I like how it turned out, but it defied conventional narrative wisdom, you know? I was surprised.

On the other side of the coin, I was also surprised by how the audience NEVER chose an option that was humorously disastrous. I gave plenty of them, and, like, generally in collaborative storytelling there will be at least one moment where your collaborators decide to do the really, REALLY stupid thing that makes everything spiral out of control really quickly. I figured at least once the audience would choose the troll response, but no, you guys worked hard to keep Sailor and Calibani alive. You refused to let them hurt each other, refused to let them throw themselves into danger, refused to imperil them for your own chuckles. It was very sweet and unexpected.

I say "you refused" but to be fair it's not like NO ONE voted for the troll options - they generally got a handful of votes, just one that was beaten by a landslide of more reasonable options. Hopefully those of you who voted for the troll options enjoyed Bob throwing you a bone by disintegrating Dr. Warefore - that was my consolation prize to you.

Yes. I knew at the beginning that there would be two endings for this story: either Sailor leaves the Sea and goes home, or Sailor stays there forever. Or, you know, Sailor dies as a result of you guys choosing several stupid options in a row, but as stated above you guys avoided those scenarios pretty decisively.

Had Sailor gone home, the following would have occurred: first, they would forget everything that happened in the Sea of Monsters. Second, they would wake up in a hospital, having been found in the Atlantic Ocean by a human-recovery charity run by... oh, isn't that funny, some tech company named Spindle Inc! Spindle would foot the medical bills and even offer Sailor a job, but Sailor would decline because even now they're still not sure what Spindle even does. Sailor would go back to their life and find it familiar and utterly mundane, but not particularly happy. Their father died when they were 18, their mother was never in the picture, they have no siblings. They worked an office job and were sort of a nonentity - that position has long since been filled, but Sailor gets a new job and lives out much the same life: simple, mundane, dreary. Every now and then they get a pang of desire to leave, to go to sea, but they push it out of mind. They never even see the ocean again as long as they live.

Sailor would have gotten the normal life they thought they were supposed to have, the normal memories and name and identity, the mundane life of a normal person. And they just had to trade everything they found in the Sea of Monsters to get it. A question is answered, a direction is followed, but is it the right answer, the right direction?

Well, I think doubt would have remained.

I had a very vague idea for there to be some sort of man-eating giant in, like, a crystal castle. He got cut to make way for the mermaids.

I wanted to fit in a big whale and a giant crustacean, but there wasn't room or an interesting angle for me to want to make room for them. Saved for a possible sequel, I suppose.

I also wanted to have a scene with, like, DOZENS of sea monsters, including some of the ones from Offbeat Melody, but the goal of "this should be EASY you dumbass" made me kill that idea pretty quick.

Thank you!

The primary inspirations were:

The Odyssey and Epic: the Musical

The voyage of St. Brendan

The many "weird shit happens on an island" movies in Toho's filmography, i.e. Godzilla vs. the Sea Monster, Son of Godzilla, Yog Monster of the Deep, Matango, etc.

The Island of Dr. Moreau

The Boy and the Heron

Ponyo (specifically Ponyo's parents - I wanted Sailor to have the same desperate energy as that wizard who fucks the giant sea goddess)

The Life of Pi

Slay the Princess (perhaps most obvious in the use of second person narration, multiple voices in the protagonist's head, and falling in love with a creature that has tried to kill you at least once)

I'm going to use this to springboard to a related point in a second, but first a genuine yet humorous answer: Yes, absolutely yes, I am enough of a big romantic sap that I would give everything about my life away to be with a person who loves me and explore a world of monsters in a heartbeat. Hell, I would have jumped in the water the minute Calibani asked and died with her fangs in my neck and a smile on my face. I am dumb this way. Do not follow my example.

On that related point, though... Most stories like this, I daresay ALL stories like this that I know of, end with the hero abandoning the fantasy world in favor of reality, never to return. And that seems like the proper choice and lesson on the surface - we don't want to tell audiences to give up their real life in favor of a fantasy, after all. That's encouraging escapism, and that's not healthy!

But, like... textually speaking, the fantastical world IS real to the characters in these stories. And it's often not really an escape - was Sailor's life devoid of conflict and suffering in the Sea of Monsters? Fuck no! It's just that they figured out how to deal with that conflict and suffering - they built skills and a support system, they adapted, they learned how to overcome what was there.

I think it can be argued that sometimes the return to a "normal" world is, in itself, an escape - the idea that your life can spiral into chaos but that's ok, you can just reset everything and go back to The Way It Was and Should Be is just as unrealistic and unhealthy an idea as You Should Escape to A Better World. Sometimes your plans for your life fall apart, sometimes you're thrown into a place you never intended to go, sometimes you have to learn skills you never anticipated needing and ally with people you never thought you'd befriend to deal with problems you never dreamed you'd have to overcome. And sometimes it's ok to look at your derailed life, your Not Where You Should Be life, and say, "Well, I've learned how to live here... maybe I can stay."

Especially if there's a cute chubby sea monster girl who loves you.

Bob was never supposed to appear past chapter 7, but about halfway through that chapter I realized the audience and I myself would be heartbroken if we didn't rescue her. Definitely for the best - she provided some well-needed comic relief in the final chapters.

This is gonna sound snarky, but, yeah - there were 58 choices with four options a piece, and we only chose one of the four. While some of the options would have similar results, almost none would have had identical outcomes. And some would have been VERY different.

Like, to go back to the beginning: when Calibani attacked, we could either throw a net on her, harpoon her, try to drive around her, or hide below deck. We picked the net, but for the other three options:

Harpooning would result in us hitting her in the thigh, causing her enough pain that she collapses on our deck and we, horrified at the violence we committed, just sort of push on. Calibani would be wounded for at least the next chapter, perhaps longer, and significantly weaker (and probably harboring a great deal of hidden resentment while also being genuinely scared of Sailor). She would be vulnerable during the stork attack, forcing Sailor to take a more active role in that chapter.

Trying to steer around her would result in us essentially fighting her with our boat, resulting in the boat capsizing and Calibani getting tangled up in it. We'd wake up alone on Stork Island and have to travel in search of our boat, alone and vulnerable among man-eating trees. We'd run into Calibani again, also beached and in trouble, end up recruiting her to help us get our boat out of the sand.

Hiding below deck would end in a sea storm that leaves us inside our boat as it's beached on Stork Island. We'd fend off the storks alone, and run into Calibani once we get our boat out to sea, as she got away more or less unscathed.

All of these would have majorly changed the trajectory of our relationship with Calibani and our identity as Sailor, despite seeming to have the same component parts on the surface. Now account for how similarly slight changes in the other options could have gone, and we could have had a very different story indeed.

Part 8: Our Girl

I just think she's neat!

[melancholymetropolis]

Sex With Me

plot: In which Wade and Logan have fun with with a Southern Belle, who just might have a secret or two

pairings: Deadpool x Monster!Reader x Logan

genre(s): Porn with Feelings; Monster Fucking

warnings: unedited (mostly). mentions of domestic violence + medical procedures. Reader has scars. Grumpy Logan. Golden Retriever Wade. Sassy Reader. Is there a word stronger than PORN? Because that's what this fic is. not a threesome. not a foursome *wink wink* but some secret third thing. (it's full of surprises)

song association: Sex With Me - Rihanna

a/n: This has been in my drafts since August. There is a Part I, but it's not necessarily needed.

w.c: 7.5k (all smut)

 The smile on Wade’s scorned face was something of fiction. There was an unbridled joy behind his eyes that was hard to interpret. It almost felt like he was honored to be included. He seemed shocked that his peeping Tom tendencies actually landed him a shot at me. His brown eyes always held a light interest in me; it flickered behind his pupils every time I traded him the lasagna dish. There was a longing behind his humor. Looking back at it, I am shocked he didn’t act on that attraction sooner. Maybe he feared to be rejected or simply he didn’t want to ruin a good thing. But, it was hard to tell, being that one meager suggestion from Logan has the man scrambling over to me like an amateur roller skater.

Maybe seeing his roommate with his head between my legs sparked something in him.

“As much as I want to seek heaven between those soft thighs, I want to be absolutely sure this is what you want, Blue Belle,” Wade said, throwing me a serious expression. “‘Fine’ is not going to cut it. I need your verbal consent that you would like to engage in a menage a trois with me and beast boy over there.”

“Keep making cracks and I will rescind my invitation,” Logan huffed.

“It’s not up to you, caveman,” Wade snapped back. “Beautiful Gorgeous is calling the shots now. Meaning, if she wants me to stay, you’ll have to put up with  these cracks for the rest of our lives.”

“A little ambitious, don’t you think?” I smirked. “Who’s to say this isn’t a one-time thing?”

“Now who’s the one cracking jokes?” His arm circled around my waist. With a gentle tug, our chests were pressed together and our eyes drilling into each other's with an interest that can only be described as unholy. “It's bold of you to assume that I had any interest in letting you go now that I got you.”

“That's hilarious considering I still have the chance to reject your offer,” I chided back.

“I'm not above getting on my knees and begging a pretty little thing for permission to access her body,” he whispered as desire flashed in his eyes. “I actually prefer to be on my knees more than standing up right.”

“I bet you'd prefer it if I'd call you “good boy” from this point on,” I purred, trailing a finger down his spine.

Wade shivered. “You can only call me that from now on. Strike “good” and “boy” from your vocabulary right now.”

“I'll see what I can do, darling,” I cooed, dragging a manicured nail along the side of his neck.

“Every time you speak with that thick syrupy accent, my dick grows harder by the word,” Wade groaned, leaning into my hand. “I'm seconds from making a mess in my jorts.”

“You're wearing a tracksuit,” I chuckled.

“Am I?” he briefly looked down at himself. “I am. Shit, I forgot where I was for a second, Blue Belle. You sure aren't hypnotizing me with your doe eyes, are you?”

“A lady never reveals her secrets,” I smiled.

“I'm going to kiss you now,” he said, pulling me even closer. “Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

His lips pressed against mine in a tender peck. It was to test the waters and provide me a chance to back out. I leaned into him. I kissed him with a ferocity that he welcomed like a lightning strike. Wade shivered beneath my touch and moaned against my lips. His strong hands gripped my rear and massaged its soft tissue gingerly. His fingers tangled in the ruffles of my hand opened sundress as he lifted its skirt from the ground. Another pair of hands slid up my legs as a broad chest pressed against my back. 

A nose ran along the side of my craned neck, swiftly followed by a tongue. The third member of our devil's threesome. His calloused hands nipped and poked at my thighs. Almost like he was fascinated by their softness, as if he wasn't between them moments before. Logan's fingers found the zipper on my left side and dragged the metal piece down. The garment sagged around my body and I reluctantly broke the kiss with Wade. Goosebumps decorated my skin as Logan’s hands assisted in the removal of the dress. He tried to push the sleeves from my shoulders.

“Hold on, baby,” I said, pulling away from the man behind me. “This is an overhead garment. Gotta lift it from the bottom.”

Without saying a word, the men lifted to the oversized skirt from the ground pulled the dress over my head. The cool air in the apartment nipped at my bare skin. I felt my nipples perk beneath the thin material of my bra. My panties sat awkwardly on my hips and thighs due to Logan’s earlier activities. I was pretty sure my wig resembled a bird's nest on my head— yet those men stared at me as if I was the first and only woman they'd ever seen. Wade had a look on his eye as if he were too afraid to touch me. As if I were a fragile being worth shielding and protecting.

Once I turned to fully face hugger, I noticed his eyes were zeroed in on one particular spot. My spine.

“Spinal realignment surgery at 16,” I said with a sad smile. “Hurt like a bitch, wouldn't wish it on my worst enemy.”

A calloused finger dragged against my spine slowly. I shivered underneath the featherlike touch and took my bottom lip between my teeth. A different finger, from another palm, traced another familiar spot along my body. 

“Ex husband,” I sighed, a hint of sadness in my tone. “Terrible drunk with great aim.”

“Did he throw a fucking machete at you?” Logan grunted. “That scar is fucking huge.”

A humorless chuckle fell from my lips. “It was a wine bottle. The force of the bottle to my chest knocked me on my back, right onto a beer bottle. It broke and pieces of it lodged into my shoulder.”

“Jesus fucking Christ, Blue Belle,” Wade hissed. “I am sorry you went through that. Good thing he’s an ex, because I would have no problem making you a widow within the hour. Scum like that shouldn’t be breathing the same air as you.”

“Agreed,” Logan replied, resting a hand on my hip.

I turned around and took a step back. I took in the expressions of both men before. Their faces were a mixture of anger, dread and anticipation. The desire to murder my ex was evident on their face, however it wasn’t the only form of desire I could see. The men stared at my body in disbelief. In complete shock. They could not fathom someone wanting to inflict harm on me. Even with my twisted underwear and cotton bra, their eyes swallowed me like I was the only water for miles. I watched their hands twitch the longer I stood away from them. Almost like they were itching to feel my skin once more. Their desire to not only defend me from an ex and to remain in constant skin contact made my heart sing.

With a small smile, I lifted my arms behind my back and proceeded to unclasp my bra. The fullness of my breast blossomed against my front and I watched the men’s eyes widened at the sight. Logan was the first to reach me. Hot kisses graced my lips and neck, while his massive hand massaged my bosom. Wade took the area behind me and kissed along my shoulders. When Logan pulled his head away from my neck, he lifted my heavy breast into his hand. Craning his head downward, his mouth latched onto the nipple. The wet heat of his tongue caused me to stumble backward a little bit; Wade’s body caught me from falling backward any more. My hand found the shaggy hair atop the older man’s head and gripped the strands at the roots. He growled at the action and gently nipped the soft tissue of my breast.

A squeal-type moan erupted from my mouth at the action. 

“Ooh, you and wolfy have a mutual kink!” Wade chirped, gripping my hips tightly. “How exciting.”

“W-we do?” I panted, leaning into him.

 Logan moved to the neglected bud; sucking it into his naughty mouth. 

Wade’s hot breath fanned my earlobe as he crouched down to my ear. My senses were going haywire from the stimulation those men were giving me. My thoughts were squiggly lines floating in my skull; forming words was starting to get harder by the second.

“Logan loves to bite during sex,” Wade whispers, slipping his band into my waistband. His calloused fingers slid against my damp curls and straight to my oozing lower lips. “Maybe it is his wolfy nature, or whatever. Leaves me covered in marks every time we fuck. I am particularly indifferent  from the notion. But you.” His calloused fingertips found my aching bud almost instantly. “Seem to enjoy being nipped by the beast.”

As if on queue, Logan bit my other breast; earning a moan from me. 

“Keep your eyes on me,” the older gentleman growled, eyes drilling into me. “Don't let him distract you.”

“Someone's jealous,” Wade said in a singsong voice.

“Wade, please, shut the fu—”

“Afraid I might steal her from you?”

“Wade, I swear to—”

“I need to tell you something,” I interjected, pulling away from both gentlemen. Their eyes snapped to me. “Before we go any further.”

“Do you have a third nipple?” Wade asked, looking at my breasts intensely. 

Logan just rolled his eyes and crossed his arms against his chest. He gave me a serious look. I watched him inhale deeply and his whole body shiver in the process. His pupils gradually dilated and I could see the goosebumps start to prick his skin. My eyes turned to Wade and his reaction was similar. But, instead of goosebumps, his face flushed a deep crimson. I could feel my true essence start to fill the room and its scent was stronger then. The familiar coolness of fog gathering at my feet sent chills to my body and I felt my eyes roll back. The fog rose from its place at my ankles and wrapped around me like a hug. My skin vibrated beneath the cold cloak and my feet slowly started to lift from the ground. The fog spun around me faster and I felt my skin suddenly grow hotter. There was a distinctive ache on the very top of my head and between my shoulder blades. The tissue stretched and then pulled right back to me. Almost like it never left.

My eyes snapped open, but my eyes rolled to the back of my head. My neck craned backward and my wig slipped from my head. My neatly braided hair was exposed underneath. Each row started to slowly unravel, unleashing my coils. My humidity from the fog made my hair puff up and the mysticism in the air sculpted it to a perfect afro. Fingers laced with mine within the fog and their coldness warmed my heart. 

My feet gradually lowered onto the ground and the fog started to retract back into the earth. 

When I opened my eyes, I saw both men before: slack-jawed.

“There’s. . . two of you. . . “ Logan tried to say. “What . . . ?”

“I gotta admit, Blue Bell, when you said you had something to show us, I'd thought it was an extra body part or something,” Wade said in disbelief. “Not a whole person. I mean this is more than unexpected, but I cannot say I'm mad about it.”

The cold fingers slipped from mine and I turned to Violet. Her smile was wide, exposing all of her pointy teeth. Her glowing eyes were the shade of burning coal. A chorus of deep orange and yellow. Her imposing horns, somewhat hidden underneath her massive (matching) afro. They arched backward slightly and then tilted up slightly; almost like the letter “S”. Her skin was a deep, rich purple. almost resembling the color of cartoon grapes (🍇). Her fingers and feet were pitch black, which gradually faded to the juicy purple color. Like they dipped in black ink. Each finger was topped with two inch, black stiletto nails. Two, imposing violet and black wings sat neatly behind her. Along with a slim, long tale.

Violet raised her arms over her head and released an exaggerated sigh. “It's good to be free. Jesus, how long have we been merged? A month? Two? I lost count.”

“It's been a week, Violet,” I replied with a chuckle. “Remember, you helped bake the cookies for the funeral?”

“Right! The one for Mary Joe,” the purple woman shook her head. “May she rest in peace. Always liked her. She had a mean tongue. I don't think I've ever come so hard just from oral.” The purple woman fanned herself. “Ooh, I'm getting hot just thinking about it. Gone too soon, I say.”

Someone cleared their throat and brought our attention over to them. It was Logan. A furrow sat between his brow and his eyes were narrowed. The arms across his front made his chest look even bigger. His eyes shot between us, the question lingering in his eyes.

“What exactly.  .  . are you?” His question was careful, but still had some edge to it. 

“Testy testy, that one,” Violet said, shaking her head. “I don't get what you see in him.”

“Be nice,” I whispered, before turning to Logan. “Before I answer that question, I would like to point out that I know you both aren't human. I know that you are not in the plumbing business and I know exactly what you do for money. So, let's not point the finger just yet, Mr. Howlet.”

“You sneaky minx!” Wade finally spoke up. “You've been spying on little ‘Ole me?”

“Not me,” I replied with a smirk. “Her.” I nodded to Violet.

“Guilty as charged,” she chirped, raising her hand. “I mean, how could I not? You guys are a smoke show! Plus, I wanted to split Logan in two for being a bastard, but Y/N wouldn't let me.”

“Because I knew he'd just regenerate shortly after,” I sighed.

“Still would've been satisfying,” she shrugged. “Besides, he deserved it. Who rejects lasagna? Especially with homemade pasta sheets?! An absolute jerk-off that's who!”

“I knew you made the pasta from scratch!” Wade exclaimed. “Nothing that good could come from a box. I was just telling wolfy—”.

“We're getting off topic,” Logan interjected. “You never answered the question.”

“Stop being such a grumpy old man and let the pretty girls talk. You're such a wet blanket.” Wade narrowed his eyes at him before turning back to us. “Don't let his faux disinterest fool you. This fucker eats more than half of the treats you make for me. Practically leaving me crumbs in the pyrex dish. Selfish bastard he is.” 

“Don't worry, baby, mama's gonna make something special just for you,” Violet cooed, dragging her nails across his earlobe, making the man shiver. She brought her hot mouth close to his ear and whispered. “Don't you like cinnamon rolls, darling?”

“More than anything, actually,” Wade groaned, leaning into her touch. “Anything sticky, sweet and spicy will always have my cock. I mean my heart. Shit both of them.”

My eyes flickered over to Logan. “The answer is I am both human and succubus. Violet is the physical manifestation of my demon side and I, currently, am the physical manifestation of my human side. We are not twins, nor are we related. We are two conscious beings that often share a body. Two sides of the same coin.”

“Think of us as the literal representation of the angel and devil on your shoulder,” Violet said, trailing her claws down Wade's abs. “She's the angel, despite her poor taste in men.” 

“Ouch,” I feigned offense.

“And I am the devil,” she continued on, ignoring me.

Logan looked between us two. “So, you are not a mutant?”

I shook my head. “Just the product of an unholy union between a god fearing Christian woman and an incubus.”

He hummed slowly and, with one swift movement, our chests were pressed against each other. “I apologize for being an asshole and hurting your feelings. You didn’t deserve that and I am sorry.” His words were gentle, just like his embrace. They made my heart flutter and my body warm.

“You should apologize to Wade for eating his lasagna,” I purred, drawing circles on his collarbone. “That wasn't very nice.”

“I'm not going to apologize for something I don't regret,” he huffed, pulling me tighter. “I enjoyed every single bite of it and I will do it again with the next dish you've brought.”

“You're so greedy,” I chuckled. “You don't deserve any lasagna after the things you've done. Don't think a few licks and kisses will make me change my mind. You were so cold, I could've shown you hated me.”

“Quite the opposite actually,” Wade groaned, while Violet slid her hand in his pants. “He practically parks his ass by the window every time tend to your lawn. And watches you like a creep. He even scares off some rowdy teenagers trying to pluck your roses. Real protective that one.”

“Oh really?” I said with a smile. “Since when did you become so infatuated with me, Sir Lancelot?”

“From the beginning,” he mumbled, looking away from me. “I've never hated you. I just thought. . . that your generosity was conditional at first. That you'd ask us for something after a little while. You never did. Even when you should've. No lady should have to clean her own gutters or change a tire.”

“I’ll be sure to call you the next time I need a big, strong man to save me from chores,” I replied, pulling his face closer to mine. 

“You better,” Logan  grumbled before pressing his mouth to mine. 

The kiss was slow and seductive. I felt my body slowly melt against his the longer we embraced. My hands slowly found themselves in his hair as he gripped my waist tightly.  With just a few inches difference in our heights, I could feel his bulge run against my pelvis. His was so hard it warped the fabric. His  hands moved lower down my legs and he crouched his body lower to reach them. The grumpy man lifted me off the ground and hooked my legs around his waist.

 I broke the kiss with a gasp and wrapped my hands around his neck. “Whisking me away, are you?”

“My lady has been on her feet for far too long,” he replied, a devilish grin on his face. 

He'd never admit it, but I could tell the bastard loved to roleplay. 

A moment later, my back collided with the soft surface of a mattress. My body bounces a little from the impact and it earns a giggle from me. Logan crawls atop the bed, hovering over my smaller form. A goofy smile on his lips.

“You're so beautiful when you laugh,” he declares, capturing my lips once more.

I moaned, already getting addicted to the taste of him. My hands slide under his shirt and I start to push the garment up his abdomen. He breaks the kiss briefly before tugging it over his head. Logan moans against my mouth as my hands undo his belt buckle and jean closures. My fingers slide down the open space and cup his hard length. The man sucks in a breath and tears away from the kiss. He rested his forehead against mine and stared directly into my eyes. 

“Is my lady getting restless?” He asked, the heat of his gaze making me sweat.

“You have no idea,” I replied, squirming underneath him. “If I get any wetter, I could ring out my panties. All this foreplay has got me oozing. I'm seconds away from ripping your pants off and riding you like a stallion.”

“I wouldn't be opposed to such an act,” he replied with a laugh.

“Good to know,” I said. “Now lie on your back.”

“Yes, ma'am”.

With my panties off, I climbed back on the bed, right atop of Logan. I swung my leg over his face and placed my oozing cunt just inches from that hot crevice of a mouth. The older man groaned loudly and brought both of his hands to my ass. He massaged the soft tissue slowly, nipping the dimpled cheeks lightly. Arching my back, I gave him better access to the glistening folds. I placed both hands on his abdomen and brace myself. 

Logan, the sweet man he is, didn't say a word. He simply opened his mouth and dragged his tongue along the oozing slit. A shiver danced through me as he repeated the action several times before placing his mouth on my folds and sucking. His naughty tongue lapper against my pearl with a hunger I've briefly seen before. The man beneath me was starving and aching for me. His tongue attacked the underside of my clit with a pressure and a pace that left me breathless. My original plan was to take him in my mouth while he feasted upon me. But, by how he worked that mouth, Logan wanted me to focus on one thing. And that was coming on his face. 

My hips rolled against his face as my nails dug into his thighs. My lower half was completely smothering his face, but the mutant wouldn't have it any other way. 

Although my legs were quaking, I still managed to undo the buttons of his jeans and freed the tent at the crotch. The girth of his member had me whimpering. Due to my height, I was just able to wrap my fist around the shaft, even then, only my fingertips touched. I brought the tip near my lips and circled my tongue around it. The man below sucked in a breath and smacked my rear lightly. I yelped at the sudden action and rolled my hips against his face once more. Logan groaned and continued to attack my folds. He licked and sucked the area right below my clit, never really touching the bundle of nerves. Inch my inch, I took the shaft in my mouth. Since the angle was awkward, I could only get the member about halfway inside. I used my hand to make up the difference. I bobbed my head slowly at first, experimenting with my movements and highlighting my limits.  Gradually, I moved quickly against him; hollowing my cheeks in the process. I felt the man groan underneath me, his breathing picking up as I worked my mouth on his cock. I felt the member twitch within my mouth before Logan finally stopped teasing me. 

With a subtle tilt of my hips, Logan’s plush lips found my pearl and began to suck. Hard. My mouth fell open and the member fell from my lips. The moans coming from my throat were unrecognizable as I started to fiercely grind on his face.

“Just like that,” I panted, digging my nails in his thighs. “Keep doing that and I am gonna cum.”

As my eyes flickered closed, an image came into focus. It was Wade. His arms were raised above his head, bound by something— maybe handcuffs or rope. His eyes were heavily lidded and his lips slightly ajar. The rise and fall of his chest was quick. Almost as though he were panting. Thick ropes of milky cum painted his rippling abs and it just kept spilling from his cock. A black hand moved along the length in short, quick bursts; squeezing tightly as it went. It was then that I noticed that Wade was holding his muscular thighs in the air. Exposing the bright purple toy slipping in and out of his slick center. The silicone dildo rested in the center of Violet’s apex, held up by a leather harness and silver D rings. It was our prized position for many reasons, but the main one being that it was double ended. I could feel Violet’s pleasure pool in her belly the longer she pounded into Wade. Her thighs were trembling and her breathing was just as hoarse as Wade’s. 

She was seconds from cumming.

As was I. 

I could feel my walls begin the quiver against his face, desperately aching to be filled by something. It hadn’t come. Yet. The moans spilling from my lips started to grow louder in pitch as a pool started to fill in my stomach. Tingles started to erupt underneath my skin. It started at my fingers and toes, making its way up my limbs and settled in my mid section. My entire being was ablaze and the pleasure was intensifying by the second. I could feel Violet’s orgasm building, just as I was sure she felt mine. It was deeper and more intense. 

Another image came to mind. Her palm stopped stroking Wade’s cock mid-stroke. She snatched her fingers from the member and started to move her hips faster. Hammering into the man at an inhuman pace. His eyes widened from the change and his grip tightened on his thighs. Breath caught in his throat, he simply nodded fiercely at the demon. Silently begging she wouldn’t stop. The toy dug deeper in both parties, ferociously attacking their pleasure points. I could hear Violet begin to yell in the next room, her passionate shouts shaking the walls.

My eyes started to roll to the back of my head as a silent scream fell from my lips. All feeling left my body as the orgasm washed over me. My hips rolled against Logan’s face, humping his mouth with little mercy. I desperately sucked in a gust of air, before releasing a loud moan. 

“Lord, help me!” I cried, gripping his thighs for dear life. “I’m cumming! Holy fuck!”

Even with my eyes tightly closed, I knew the mist was rising from the ground and swiftly engulfing my body. Tingles reverberated underneath my skin and made the hair on the back stand up. A golden light pierced the back of my eyelids as the last glorious seconds of the climax took over Me. I rolled my hips against his face, chanting his name in the process. I never wanted his lips to leave my quivering cunt, but I knew that was unrealistic. Especially with what awaited me when I opened my eyes.

As the fog dissipated, I found myself in a new location. I blinked several times and took in the scene before me. My body was not hovering over Logan, but pressed against another. My breasts nestled against a hard chest and my thighs were on either side of a narrow waist. My soft tummy pressed against a set of sticky abs. Resting just below my apex, poking my inner thigh, was someone's else's cock. Wade's, to be specific.

His eyes were wide with disbelief at the sight, rapidly scanning my face to see if this was really happening. 

“Did you guys just.  .  . switch places?” He asked, gripping his wrist restraints tightly. 

“More or less”, I said with a shrug.

“Well smack my ass and call me Sally!” He replied with a chuckle. “You two are just full of surprises, huh?”

“You could say that,” I chuckled, tracing a nail along his ear.

“What else you got up your sleeve, Blue bell?” Wade groaned at the sensation. “Anything else you'd like to share with the class?”

I could feel his member perk up against my thigh with every other pass of my finger. He was growing hard and  faster than I had originally anticipated. Wade had wanted me. His attraction was not a surprise as the massive man wore his brain on his sleeve. His thoughts were free to anyone that would listen and his actions. . . as transparent as glass. Wade wanted me from the first moment I knocked on his door with the lasagna dish. I saw his lingering glances on my body and I hadn’t minded. He was a hunk of a man and I felt myself in need of a ride.

I lifted myself from my position on his chest and placed both hands on his pecs. My knees rested on either side of his slim waist as my hot cunt rested on his lap. His member twitched beneath me. His eyes became hooded and the scorned man tugged at the cuffs at his wrists.

“Are you sure you're not an angel?” Wade said with jagged breaths. “Because you look downright heavenly in this position. Hands on my chest. Wet pussy smothering my cock. That seductive look in your eye that tells me you're about to do something that's gonna make me cum like a fountain. God, you're so beautiful. I'm probably gonna spill just looking at ya. Say something, gorgeous. Because if you don’t, I’m gonna keep—”

My hips rolled against his throbbing length, earning a groan from the male. “You’re so hard for me, despite just spilling all over yourself moments ago.”

“Keep moving like that and I’m gonna spill again,” he growled, moving his hips in rhythm with mine. 

“If you’re a good boy, I’ll let you spill inside me,” I cooed, digging my nail in his chest.

His groans turned to whimpers. “Please, Blue Belle,” Wade begged, pulling at his restraints. “Please let me fill that hot, dripping pussy with my cock. I’ve been waiting for that since the moment I met you. If I have to wait any longer, I’m gonna make a fool of myself. Please, darling. I need you.”

A smirk found my lips. “I didn’t even have to ask you to beg,” I said, lifting my hips from his member. I lifted a hand from his chest and brought it between our joint bodies. I gripped the thick shaft and aligned it with my entrance. “Just for that, you get your wish.” 

Slowly, I sunk onto his awaiting cock. A gasp ripped from my lips as a groan came from Wade. Followed by a curse. Inch by Inch, I took him. Pumping my hips slowly to make the process faster. I placed both hands on his chest once more and started to grind against Wade. The head of his member pushed against a spot I almost forgot I had. My legs quivered at the friction. Wade had a smug look on his face and, in that moment, I knew we were both thinking the same thing: I wasn’t going to last long. With that thought resting at the front of my mind, I decided to make the best of our predicament. I tilted my body a bit forward, and pressed my palms harder against his chest. I widened the position of my thighs, arched my back and pressed my knees firmly on the mattress. Once my body was stable, I started to move. I didn’t give the bastard the satisfaction of easily getting into it; I threw my ass back with the vindication of a seasoned professional.

“Oh! Oh God!” Wade exclaimed, gripping the headboard. “Jesus. . . Fuck!”

The length of his member was not surprising, since everything about Wade oozed big dick energy. He was cocky, arrogant and well endowed. It was the girth that surprised me. It was thicker than I was used to. It stretched my slick canal with passion. My walls were pulsing intensely from the intrusion. God, how I wanted to be filled like that in such a long while. Wade had stretched me in ways I didn’t think was possible, at least not anymore. Logan had done his partner a disservice by giving me such an intense orgasm from oral. The desire to be filled was prevalent. Sure, cumming on the tongue of a beautiful man was great, but the thought of being absolutely hammered by his member was another. 

My eyes flickered closed as pleasure zapped through me like a lightning strike. Through the foggy haze of my incoming climax, I could see a pillow, through Violet’s eyes. The position of the pillow was moving, almost like it was being moved back and forth at a quick pace. Or, Violet was being moved in that sequence. The succubus briefly lifted her head from the plush surface and craned her neck backward. Logan came into view. He was shirtless and sweat coated his body. His teeth were clenched and face was contorted. His hips moved at a pace that could only be described as brutal. Just how Violent liked it. The demon preferred to be in change. She took her position of dominatrix very seriously. But, there were times when she liked to switch, when the partner was powerful enough to dominate her. It seemed like Violet had met that partner. Logan was pounding into her like he hated her. Fast and hard. He was also muttering words I couldn’t necessarily make out, but knowing Violet, it was probably something scandalous.

The sight of Logan losing control had earned a moan out of me. He looked so hot when behaving so erratically. I was so distracted by the sight that I almost missed the set of hands gripping my wrists. Almost. My eyes snapped open and looked down at Wade. The cuffs that bound his wrists dangled from the headboard, still in tack. 

“How did you—”

“A magician never shares his secrets,” he snickered. “Now, press your chest against mine. I would like to try something.”

“Taking charge, pet?” I jested, leaning forward.

“Only trying to keep your attention,” he replied, wrapping his arms around me. “At least while I got you.”

Before I could respond, Wade moved his hips upward, effectively thrusting into me from below. A startled moan spilled from my lips as I hooked my arms underneath his shoulders. Once grasping his body tightly, the man beneath me began to thrust. Hard and fast. He matched the pace I had originally set for our union. He didn’t have the patience to wait for the future, to see if I were to switch places once more. Instead, he was going to milk every moment that we had together. 

“That’s it, Blue Belle,” Wade growled, digging his fingers in my sides. “Scream for me.”

I hadn’t known I was screaming until he pointed it out. My mind was simply in a state of shock. I knew that Wade was not an innocent man, by a landslide, and that he was not purely submissive. But, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that he was so good at playing both positions. The bumbling, needy sub and the insatiable dominant. A true switch. 

The way his cock dug inside me was evidence that he excelled at being in charge. My legs shook at the intensity of the position and  the depth of him. My walls pulsed around him, squeezing tightly, as a familiar feeling in my belly grew. I was close.

“Wade. . .” I trailed off.

“I know, gorgeous,” he grunted, eyes flickering over my face. “I know.”

“I-I’m. . . mmm— oh lord!” 

The remaining strength within my being had quickly dissipated and I felt my body completely mesh with Logan’s. My breasts were pressed against his chest and my head fell in the crook of his neck. I held him tighter, as his cock managed to hit that pleasure point directly with each thrust. Second by second, my body grew taut. My muscles started to lock as my mouth slowly opened. My eyes slowly rolled back as I started to pant heavily. The pressure in my belly had spilled over and an indescribable sensation had overcame me. 

I was cumming, hard.

“That’s it, baby,” Wade encouraged. “There you go. Cum for me.”

A jagged breath fell from my lips as I whined atop the man. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

“Never,” he replied, a smile in his voice.

A string of curses left my lips as the wave of pleasure kept rolling over me. I never wanted it to end. I never wanted to part from that room. Part from Wade. But, I knew it was coming. The coolness of the mist had inched up my feet and started to swirl at my legs. It was only then that I felt the faint burst of Violet’s pleasure. She had reached her peak, the same time I had reached mine. Again. Meaning, it was time to switch. 

I looked down at Wade, who’s hips were starting to stagger. His face was pulled in a pinched expression and I felt his body suddenly shudder. He was close. The mist had started to collect around my form, but I kept it at bay. Mentally stalling the switch, just for a few seconds. Wade kept hammering into me until his hips halted, in mid thrust. His member pulsed aggressively before shooting hot spurts of cum inside me. I moaned at the sensation and rolled my hips against him.

“Give it to me, pet,” I said, pressing kisses to his face. “Fill me with your seed.”

Wade let out a strangled cry before collapsing on the bed. His member still pulsed, but oozed instead of squirting.

“God, you really are a dream,” he said, satiated. 

“Only to you.”

Upon opening my eyes, I was greeted with another panting man. Instead of being situated beneath me, Logan was directly above me. His dark brown eyes poured into me, a mixture of various emotions behind them. Relief. Astonishment. Desire. Longing. He was waiting for my return in his arms. And by the look on my face, I knew we shared the same desire. Logan’s lips were on mine before I could utter a single syllable. The weight of his body damn near suffocated me as he pulled me closer. Held me tighter. My legs hooked around his waist. Our nude pelvises grinding against one another. His cock gradually hardened from the action and I became even wetter than I already had.

“I’ve been waiting for you, M’lady,” Logan said, breaking the kiss. “I hope you’ll  have me.”

My chest glowed at his use of roleplay. “I will,” I said, running a hand in his hair. “But, you must promise to be gentle. Wade did a number on me.”

Logan growled at the last bit, but didn’t mention it. Instead, he gently lifted his lower half from mine and took his member in hand. Slowly, he sunk into my awaiting center— earning a moan from the both of us. There was more of him than Wade. He had been bigger in length, but also in girth. The more he inched in me, the more grateful I was for the switch. It would’ve taken a bit longer to adjust  to Logan’s size. Wade had not only stretched me something devious, but made me wet enough to take him easily. 

When successfully connected, Logan started to roll his hips against me. It wasn’t a thrust, but also wasn’t a grind. A happy medium between both. The position was simply tantalizing. With every motion, his pelvis ground against my clit, sending sparks up my spin. Within seconds, I was squirming beneath the hulking man. My nails digging his shoulders and my mouth moaning up a storm. His member was deep and practically digging within me. It was hitting all the right places— he was hitting all the right places. The sickening pace he had set had my legs shaking shortly after our union. My walls pulsed around him, possibly squeezing his haft mercilessly. I was getting wetter by the thrust, practically dripping for him. 

“I’m not going to last long, knight,” I panted, my head falling back on a pillow. 

“Keep squeezing me like this and neither will I,” he replied through gritted teeth. 

Our lips found each other once more. The kiss was sensual and seductive. My body started to lax the more we stayed tangled together. The need for me to grip Logan for stability was no longer. I was perfectly situated on the mattress and the hulky man didn’t complain. He continued to fuck me like the world was ending it that was our last night together. Logan wanted to relish in whatever moment we had together, knowing it could be fleeting. Knowing I could go back with Wade.

A subtle gnawing within my belly started to grow. The pleasure that was steadily growing had reached the rim. A throaty sigh spilled from my lips as I gripped the sheets. I turned my head to the side, unable to sustain the heat of his gaze. Unlike the last two approaches to climax, I couldn’t see through Violet’s eyes, nor feel her pleasure. The simple observation could mean a lot of things. The first being that she no longer wanted to share her sight with me; which was doubtful. Violet was an exhibitionist. She loved to be watched. The second being that she was not engaging in sexual activities. That was severely unlikely. Or the third, she was waiting for something to happen. Waiting for the big reveal. Something that rarely happened.

Like a cup under a faucet, pleasure pushed me over the edge. My body tensed slightly as I felt all the sound drift away from my ears. My eyes squeezed shut and my mouth hung open for a silent scream. My hips met Logan’s thrusts, further grinding my clit into his pelvis. My walls pulsed slowly; clenching his member in long intervals before releasing. My toes curled as my heels dug into the mattress. The breath I was holding came out in a rush as a wheezing sound came from my throat. My womanhood was oozing around Logan’s member, wetting us both, and making a mess beneath my ass. The words “keep going” fell from my lips at some point, but it didn’t register to my ears. 

To his credit, Logan didn’t stop. 

He kept his sensual pace, making the climax feel everlasting. 

It wasn’t until significantly later that I felt his thick cock violently twitch within me. His hips stopped their delectable grinding— moments before thick ropes of cum filled my walls once more. Opening my eyes, I caught the older man engulfed in bliss. Body trembling above mine as his fingers dug deep in the mattress. There was a sorta glow that took over his face, almost making him look ethereal. As his body slowly lost tension, his pinched expression began to relax and his eyes lazily opened. Before slapping open completely. Logan stared at me for a moment, before rearing back, slipping out of me and stumbling off the bed.

Horrified, I gathered the sheets around me and quickly covered my body. I sat up and peered over the bed. Logan’s mouth fell open as we locked eyes once more. He remained motionless on the ground, staring at me wildly. Eyes looking above my head, behind my and then back to my face. 

“What is the matter with you?” I hissed, becoming increasingly annoyed. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Your wings are showing, Honey,” Violet’s voice sounded from the doorway. “Along with your halo”.

I reached a hand behind my back and immediately felt soft feathers brush against my palm. “Fuck,” I muttered, pinching the bridge of my nose.

“Fuck is right!” Wade exclaimed, pushing past Violet to enter the room. “You’re a fucking angel! Holy shit! Maybe, I shouldn’t have said that. My apologies.” Wade processed to cross himself before pressing his palms in a prayer position. 

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier?” Logan asked, scrambling to his feet. 

“Because everyone I sleep with has the same reaction,” I said, wrapping my sheet tighter against my body. “Unbridled shock and then a devotion to their ‘Lord and Savior’. And besides, I’m still getting used to this development.”

“Used to it?” Violet interjected, once again. “It’s been fifty years! You had more than enough time to get used to it!”

“Fifty years!?” Wade screamed. “How old are you?”

I groaned and shot Violet a nasty look. “125.”

The man looked between both Violet and I, before shooting a look at Logan. “Even with a literal angel in the room, you are still the oldest bastard here. Wow.”

I opened my mouth to ask the most obvious question ever, but Logan’s answer stopped me.

“I’m 167,” he replied in a bored expression.

“Wade is right. You really are an old bastard,” Violet said. As if a lightbulb erupted in her head, her eyes widened and then narrowed menacingly. “What wars did you fight in?”

“Violet!” I exclaimed. 

“You were too young for the Civil War,” she continued. “But, you must’ve fought in the World Wars. So, which side were you on? Matter of fact, where were you during the Civil Rights movement?”

I opened my mouth to object, but decided against it. 

I, too, wanted to know the answer. 

Even Wade was quiet for once. 

“What kind of question is that!” Logan shot to his feet. “Of course, I wouldn’t side with the oppressive regime of 1940s Germany or the segregation of non-white people. I cannot believe you would suggest I would do otherwise!”

“I don’t know,” Violet shrugged. “A lot of immortal men have questionable pasts.”

“She’s right, wolfy,” Wade piped up. “You’d be surprised how many people sided with the south back in the day.”

“And, how old are you, Wade?” I asked, changing the subject.

“45, as of today!” He chirped. “And honestly, this is the best birthday present I could’ve ever gotten! Fucking an angel and a succubus in one day? There is no better way to celebrate.”

“Wait,” Logan turned to me. “You weren’t born an angel. You became one, right? Half a century ago. How did that happen?”

“Well. . .” I looked over at Violet, who made a playful gesture of zipping her lip shut. “When our husband almost killed us, my mother made a bargain with her god to bring me back. In order to do that, he had to split my soul in half: the human side and the demon side. He couldn’t necessarily destroy the demon side, so he allowed it to remain. But, he granted me the status of angel to my human side to save my life.”

“Must be nice to be God’s favorite,” Wade grumbled. 

“You have no idea,” Violet and I said in unison. 

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Taglist

@amagaygirl @ficslutt @thabiddie23 @m1sk1n3 @dreaded---existence @collardbysimonriley @lovelymaniat @seasonofthenerd @eat-a-friggin-snickers @blue-rae18 @twinky-wink @bunnybabe-babydoll

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a/n: before you fight me, just know that life has been lifng. I didn’t intend on being gone this long. I'll try to post more often. With that being said, Claggor fic coming soon.

[plurapony]

hi petalfluff here! just a warning this post is going to be quite meanspirited. this user has been doing too much damage to the system community and our system has come to the decision that this post is very necessary.

I have hated theinfernalcollective since I first learned of the blog, I hated his takes and he's always come off with "I have a formal diagnosis of DID so I'm better than you and know more" vibes. then he posted US!!! to r/systemscringe! which of course ruined our fucking day and reblogged our vent posts calling us anti recovery, but the thing! that gets me is he clearly wants to have his cake and eat it too.

@theinfernalcollective is the definition of a fence sitter, when suddenly i started to get more followers and my post started getting more traction?

He started constantly reblogging and replying to our posts! Even though, we don't fucking like him! oh and he deleted his post of us on r/SC so clearly he regretted his actions!! because we are one of the good ones!!! /s

IC oh so clearly wants the system community to like him! he defends his actions on the subreddit saying that "it's only endo's" (and people he finds cringe who aren't endo's) but even if it WAS only endo's... ITS STILL BAD!!! You're still providing content to a community based on bullying - it does not matter if you like endo's or not NO ONE DESERVES TO BE BULLIED!!!! I don't know if he realizes that he is building up a primarily negative reputation within the Tumblr system community but it doesn't matter if he reblogs and sucks up to people to be liked - they already don't like him.

And r/systemscringe DON'T LIKE HIM EITHER!! they only like systems when they're suffering, locked up in psych wards and shunned away from the world. Every system is a faker to them by simply displaying symptoms, they don't care and they will endlessly bully anyone. They have no morals in that subreddit. Someone made a post stating exactly that! and that IC won't be considered one of the "good ones" by posting other systems.

And what was his response? He disagreed and then posted screenshots to r/systemscringe to gain validation. What happened then?

Yeah... Surprise surprise... He's not considered one of the good ones because that subreddit hates systems... Like what we have all been saying....

Seriously not only is this behavior abhorrent because someone posted to syscringe is completely unable to defend themselves but doesn't it just make you feel bad? It's nice to be nice and it makes you feel bad to do bad things to others. You're hurting people and you're only sinking the community down more. Does it not bring you down that your mind is constantly invaded with thoughts if someone is or isn't faking? At the end of the day, it doesn't matter. Be kind to others and they'll be kind to you back, what goes around comes back around and all that other shit.

You're pushing yourself into a pit where neither syscringe or the tumblr system community likes you and then you will have nowhere. Is that the reality you really want?

[sschizoid]

was wonderiiiiiiiing if you'd be up for any jimcurly hcs if they were in an au? I had so many idea and now that Im here Im blanking lmao- something fluffy please! Im dehydrated over here (there's so much toxic yaoi,- and don't get me wrong, im obsessed, but also- I want them to have some genuine moments yk TT_TT)

ohhh have I got LOTS of thoughts for you anon. wall of text inbound!

--

curly

curly has a naturally gentle, soft and nurturing personality. he's known jimmy for years, and despite his temperamental moments, he still welcomed him with open arms, even trusting him to live under his roof when he was down on his luck. simply put, curly loves jimmy, he always has. he just doesn't know where the line is drawn between them. but he's content with just being in the same room as him

curly's love language is acts of service, and preparing home-cooked meals is his favorite way to display that. he'll invite jimmy to a plate he's prepared, who he knows will most likely reject the offer, even though he's probably hungry, but he'll eventually cave in. he always does

they'll eat on the couch, their shoulders close together and knees idly knocking. curly will happily yap and get lost in a multitude of side tangents, while jimmy just listens, rarely chiming in. it used to drive curly crazy when he'd refuse to speak; he wanted to know what was going on in the other's mind so badly. but he's since accepted that that's just how he was. ever the observer, hardly the engager. and that was okay. he had enough thoughts to talk for the both of them

he often thinks about how jimmy was before everything, back when they were younger, before the world was big, and before his brain practically consumed him. it saddens him in the moment, but its fine, he doesn't dwell for too long. all jimmy needs is encouragement and love, and curly is happy to provide that. he would do anything for jimmy. and he wouldn't have it any other way

jimmy

jimmy wholeheartedly believes that he is incapable of loving or even caring about another human being, yet feels strange when in curly's company. he's always psyching himself out regarding this— his thoughts and senses aren't often reliable, his mind is always playing tricks on him, and he fucking hates labels. but curly? that motherfucker was an enigma

he'll never outright say it, but he enjoys when curly touches his hair or places a hand on his shoulder and gives it a quick squeeze. small notions that aren't overbearing, but still communicate "I'm in your corner". it's comforting, those touches that, if placed by anybody else, would probably irritate the fuck out of him. but coming from curly, they were bearable. more than that, they were welcome

one of the traits he likes about curly is that he doesn't helicopter. he knows how to speak jimmy's language, or at least, does his best, and jimmy likes that. but at the same time, curly doesn't enable. doesn't let him do stupid shit if he knows it'll be harmful or make him upset. and god fucking damn does it piss jimmy off in the moment, because who is he to criticize how he lives his life? but the morning after, he's more often than not begrudgingly appreciative that curly is stern enough to reel him in and keep him grounded. its a careful balance, one they've mastered well over the years

sometimes, and only sometimes, does jimmy think about holding him. when his brain is just a little bit calmer, often after a really good talk or meal. he usually lets those thoughts perish, but sometimes, he starts to fantasize. not even about sex, just about having a normal fucking domestic life. being in love, being loved, being intimate. he'll catch himself looking into curly's eyes and try to imagine some sort of future, one where he gets his shit together and learns to tolerate being alive. one where curly can say he's proud of him and have a reason to actually mean it. a nice house, a different city, maybe they'd even get a dog. the idea always feels like a far away pipe dream, but fuck if it isn't nice to think about, at least for a little while

--

WHEW sorry i got kinda carried away with this one, i just have so many feelings about them. also this is probably more of an, uh... melancholic fluff lol but I hope you like it anyway! ( ; w ; )

[laswells-ashtray]

Okay, here me out on this. Gonna do this anonymously cause social anxiety is scary and I've never left an ask before, first time for everything I suppose. :')

I was randomly just watching the missions for MW3 cause I loved the concepts of some of them, just hated how most of it played out (Like how did Graves survive being blown up? Or how it felt like the story was rushed at points). Then I remembered the mission where Price got trapped in that silo thingy with the poisonous gas stuff that I cannot remember for the life of me what it is called (Think the mission was called Reactor,if you wanted to look it up if I don't explain it that well). Loved that mission cause to me it showed that Price wasn't this almighty powerful captain that doesn't get injured that badly compared to everyone else in 141.

Had a random thought of just the in-between part of when Price passed out to when he woke up on the helo. Was scrolling through the random posts and when I got to the one where Mac had met Price's team and stuff all I could think about was what if Gaz or Soap or anyone who's met Mac just tell Nik or Laswell to call for grandpa. I find it hilarious just the thought of Price's subordinates panicking over the fact that their captain, (and practically father figure sometimes due to how often he mother hens them), had inhaled poisonous gas then passed out and wanted help from someone who's known Price for years. Then cue Mac just showing up on base in Price's office or calling Price really late at night being like "You have 5 seconds to explain what happened and how in the world you got into that situation Mister. I do not care that you're a captain now I still hold seniority over you Price, I will pull that card you little shit." Cause despite the fact that Price was a pain in the ass when he was Mac's sergeant he still cares for the stubborn Brit's wellbeing.

Sorry if I started ranting, I love cod and finding the posts have made me do my happy stims. :) Especially reading the silly ones, always makes me feel better when having a bad day.

Made me get my glasses for this one, in a good way I'm just blind as shit. A little bit. Also never apologise for ranting, this is a safe place for ranting, rambling and threats of bodily harm but only if they're polite about it.

Firstly, I know exactly what mission you're talking about because I can't get past the second juggernaut and had to rage quit because I was giving myself a stress headache.

Secondly. I've missed writing more Mac if only because I have to write so English-ly for everyone else.

When the door opens, John doesn't look up. He assumes it's Nikolai coming to check on him, Ghost popping his head in to call him a twat again or one of the sergeants asking how he's doing. He doesn't expect to see the same, worn soles of some battered old boots that he's been trying to convince Mac to get rid of for over ten years park themselves on his desk.

Nor does he expect to see Mac watching him, arms crossed over his chest, and a look of blatant fury on his face that makes the hair on the back of John's neck stand up.

His chest is still tight and there's a familiar ache in his throat, he's too old to be getting fucking gassed anymore. Whatever cancer he'll be riddled with in ten years is not worth it.

"Well?"

He isn't stupid enough to answer that, leaning forward with his elbows on the desk. If Mac didn't look ready to deck him, he'd likely be lecturing John about "uncooked joints on the table".

"Jus no gonnae say a fucking hing tae me? Dae a luk like a store dug?"

He groans and ignores the rattling behind his ribs, running a hand over his face as he prays that maybe, just maybe Mac will go easy on him.

"What have you been told?"

He doesn't bother asking "and by who?" because he doesn't want to be annoyed at any of them, and it was likely Kate.

"Ye inhaled a fuck ton ae somehin ye shouldnae 've and a hud to hear about it fae someday else."

He nods, looking at the older man wearily. "That's about it, didn't think you'd need a play-by-play."

Mac lowers his feet off of the edge of the desk and drags his chair closer to the desk with a grating scraping noise that makes john wince.

"Right, lad. Genuine question, are ye a fuckin tit?"

It appears to be just that, a genuine question if the way Mac is arching a brow at him means anything. The Scot doesn't allow him the opportunity to answer before talking again.

"Ye must be, cuz we both ken launchin heed first intae somethin filt wae somehin that mangles ye is some biblical arsehole-ity, John."

John briefly considers slamming his head on the desk. It'd do no good to explain that it was for the mission, Mac would probably just skelp him over the back of the head for implying that wasn't something the retiree already knew.

"You did worse back in the day."

MacMillan only narrows his eyes at him, clenching his hands into fists on his lap.

"Dae ye take me as a gid fuckin example wae these things, son?"

John shakes his head, staring down at the desk in front of him.

"Swear tae fuck, ye pull a stupid stunt like that again and a'll huv yer fucking knees wae a crowbar. Christ, is yer self-preservation that far oot the fuckin windae?"

That has John looking back up at him through narrowed eyes, everyone kept jumping down his throat about it as if they wouldn't have all done the same for the sake of a mission. It was part of the job.

Mac slams his hand down on the edge of the desk, irritation washing over his face in waves.

"Dinnae fuckin luk at me like that, crabbit wee git. A get tae rip intae ye fir stupid shite like this or did ye forget that? The fuckin heart attacks ye put me through fir years and ye huvnae changed a bit? Ye canne be dain that tae every, ye might act like an ignorant arse but ye've got folk aroon here that actually don't like the thought ae attending yer fuckin funeral, ye daft cunt."

Maybe the older man can see the exhaustion that's settled in John's bones, wearing him away from the inside out. Or maybe this is just how MacMillan felt years ago, it might just be an inherited trait that presents itself alongside the captain title.

"Get tae bed, son. We're talkin aboot this the morra. And tea wae lemon fir yer throat, ye sound like ye've been gargling shrapnel."

[brucebocchi]

Ranking 2024 anime, Pt. 3: #30-21

hey, this post is also available on my ko-fi, so please check it out and consider tipping/donating as i do this for free and am currently between jobs. you can find part 1 of the list here and part 2 here. thanks!

We're chugging along. I'd say we're finally getting to the good stuff, and there is plenty of good at this point in the countdown, but I also just really like complaining.

Let's get it.

30. KonoSuba: God’s Blessing on This Wonderful World!, season 3

I have a tendency to refer to the more brainless and/or trashy anime I watch as “junk food.” You know the kind; the ones that don’t really add anything to your life and don’t stand up to the more fulfilling series, but still get the job done when you go into autopilot. I’ve found that, as a habitual (non-metaphorical) snacker, I tend to just reach for something when I’m bored so I have something to do. And looking at it objectively, I don’t tend to enjoy myself while doing it and I usually don’t feel good afterwards.

I feel much the same way about watching KonoSuba.

Not that I think it’s ontologically evil or anything, but KonoSuba often has just as much going against it as it does working in its favor. For every joke that hits, and some of them absolutely do hit, there’s another that makes me question why I’m even watching it. I’m not against dark or even occasionally offensive humor; I adore It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, a show to which KonoSuba often draws comparisons. The issue is that, at its worst, KonoSuba defaults to either “this person is a pervert,” “this person is a pedophile,” or “this man got sexually assaulted.” My issue isn’t with the subject matter so much as the fact that they rarely rise above the level of base shock value and that they keep happening like that. It almost feels perfunctory, like the writers had quotas to meet.

It’s not all bad, though. Even having only gotten into KonoSuba in early 2023, I still found myself lamenting its hiatus, and An Explosion on This Magical World somehow only made the heart grow fonder for the party members that weren’t Megumin. I appreciate that Darkness plays a pivotal role in the third season, because Darkness is hilarious and terrific. This season had a couple of the best jokes and goofy facials in the series. 

Overall, it’s a bit of a wash, but I can’t be too upset. It’s more KonoSuba, and it’s reached the point where that’s practically a value-neutral statement.

29. Wistoria: Wand and Sword

I don’t really have much new to say about Wistoria. It’s not the best magic school anime I watched this year and certainly not the best fantasy, but it looks terrific and it’s a fun enough time if you turn your brain off.

And turning your brain off is a necessity here because Wistoria’s story is as basic as it gets. It’s more or less Mashle if it wasn’t a comedy, and it’s such a transparent, dirt-simple power fantasy that it might as well be an isekai. Guy’s trying to keep a promise to his childhood friend, he sucks at the one thing everyone else does to the point of getting bullied left and right, but he’s super crazy strong in a his own special way. Actually, shit, I just described Kaiju No. 8.

Rule of cool wins out here, and this show does look phenomenal, but it might be better enjoyed via YouTube clips. I’m curious to see where the story goes from here, but I’m not completely sold yet.

28. Chained Soldier

Chained Soldier is horny isekai trash. Chained Soldier fucking rocks. We got big monsters, wild action sequences, unique and memorable character designs, casual femdom, solid comic relief, interesting (if predictable) twists, uncensored boobs, it’s got it all! 

It’s not the best-looking show in some parts, but that’s forgivable. The production values were fine, all things considered, and the action sequences in particular were terrific throughout, but I’m really glad this series is changing studios for the second season. I’ve read ahead in the manga (don’t judge) and Passione is gonna do a bang-up job as the action and shameless fanservice both ramp up.

It’s early in the story and a teensy bit shaky, but Chained Soldier is already a fun time. I have reason to believe it’ll only get better as it goes. And not just because of the boobs.

27. Suicide Squad Isekai

You wanted an isekai starring the Suicide Squad, and by God did you get one. This is a perfectly serviceable series by Suicide Squad standards and a pretty middling isekai otherwise. Nothing about the world in which this series is set is all that interesting or groundbreaking, but you’re here for anime Harley Quinn (and a few other DC villains I guess), and this show delivers.

Fluid, expressive character animation (when the studio wants it), a terrific Japanese voice cast, and entertaining hijinks among Batman’s infamous rogues’ gallery combine for a plenty fun time that ultimately doesn’t have much staying power. If you liked the James Gunn movie, you’ll have a decent time here. No more, no less.

Between Uzumaki’s disastrous production, Lord of the Rings: War of the Rohirrim’s apparent mediocrity, and last year’s unwanted, execrable FLCL Grunge, I’m just glad that at least one recent anime production with Jason DeMarco’s fingerprints on it came out unscathed.

26. ‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess

I ended up watching so many discrete series during the winter season that it’s probably not a coincidence that my bottom four series on this ranking (and six of the bottom ten) all aired during that season. When you filter feed, you’re gonna take in a lot of garbage. Sometimes you need some stuff that’s “just fine” to clean the palate.

‘Tis Time for “Torture,” Princess is probably a bit better than even “just fine,” but it’s not gonna be a ready recommendation. The premise is pretty one-note on paper: Warrior princess got captured by demons, they try to coax intel out of her via temptation, she folds, the intel is worthless, and the cycle begins anew. But if a run of over 250 manga chapters and climbing is any indication, the series manages to keep it fresh. Time for “Torture” works because it isn’t beholden to its premise and instead decides to play hopscotch with its own framework. Gradually but noticeably, the unnamed princess and her inquisitors and “torturers” become friends, they all enjoy the spoils of her snitching together, and they really just keep it up because that’s how this stuff is supposed to go. 

Nine months later, I still don’t know why I liked this show so much. It’s just the right amount of silly to me, and it’s cute as hell where it counts. Not the best thing I watched this year but far from the worst. If you want something dumb and weirdly wholesome that’ll make you chuckle here and there, it’s a good pick.

25. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night

This is one I’m still agonizing over a bit. Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night is a terrific show on so many levels, but I still felt let down by the end of its run. It wasn’t even in the same ballpark of disappointment as Uzumaki or Metallic Rouge, thankfully. Like Uzumaki, it couldn’t live up to the promise of its all-timer debut episode, but on the flip side, Jellyfish largely maintained its high production value. Like Metallic Rouge, it felt like the narrative largely spun its wheels until the writers realized they only had two episodes left, but Jellyfish didn’t leave me feeling like I’d just wasted four hours of my life.

This series already had massive shoes to fill if it was going to be the best showbiz anime produced by Doga Kobo airing this year (“I’d have two nickels” and so on and so forth), but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night unfortunately ended up getting outclassed on several fronts by shows that just did almost every element better. It looks terrific, it has a memorable cast, the music’s great, and it’s a welcome entry in the “Girls Doing Things” anime canon, but it was outclassed in its own broadcast season by Train to the End of the World, Girls Band Cry, and Yuru Camp. The real shame is that it seemed to have designs on being a tremendous LGBT show if it played its cards right, and instead opted to throw those cards in the air and walk away by the end.

I’d still recommend this show if you temper your expectations of any real narrative punch. There were some tremendous original series that aired this year, but Jellyfish Can’t Swim in the Night just didn’t reach those higher levels. There’s a whole bunch of good in there, but they couldn’t quite piece it all together.

24. Mushoku Tensei: Jobless Reincarnation, season 2, part 2

I’m gonna be real here: I’m sick of writing about this show. It’s exceptionally well-made and, on balance, easily one of the best anime of the decade so far, but the subject matter can touch such controversial and uncomfortable territory at parts that I can’t recommend it to anyone. 

The back half of Mushoku Tensei’s second season actually did a lot of work towards making up for a lot of the less-tolerable moments in the preceding ¾ of the show, even delivering a couple of the spring season’s best episodes, and then it gets weird again near the end. Not nearly as bad as it gets in the first season, nor in the worst moments of this season’s first half from 2023, but still off-putting, even for people who stuck with it for this long. I expect this to continue.

Mushoku Tensei is a great show. Don’t watch Mushoku Tensei.

23. Undead Unluck, second cour

David Production’s adaptation of one of Weekly Shonen Jump’s most inventive and ambitious action series continued into the start of 2024 as the story just continued ramping up and getting wilder.

Undead Unluck had an interesting, if occasionally uncomfortable start, with a fascinating power system and tons of secrets left to be revealed, and as it continued you could start to see the camera slowly pulling back. Midway through its second cour, shit completely hits the fan and any expectations you may have had fly out the window. Undead Unluck’s debut season was an amusing curiosity for most of its run, but the status quo is upended so effectively midway through the second cour that I was completely hooked. There were some infuriating pacing issues at those exact moments that were enough for me to dock it several spots on this list, but it’s still absolutely worth watching.

I decided to read the Undead Unluck manga a couple months ago and for as wildly as I thought the anime ramped up its scope by the end of this run, it turns out that the series as a whole goes to even crazier lengths than that. I’m completely sold now and cannot wait for more.

22. Kaiju No. 8

Counter to the series I just talked about, Kaiju No. 8 is one of Shueisha’s least​​​​ innovative battle shonen series. And that’s okay! Nothing wrong with wanting to see people fight giant monsters and one who can turn into a giant monster himself, and maybe you don’t want to have to deal with Attack on Titan’s incoherent politics to get there.

There is fundamentally nothing special about Kaiju No. 8, but I do appreciate that the protagonist is an out-of-shape thirtysomething desperately clinging to his hopes and dreams. No particular reason. There’s some interesting worldbuilding early in the story, and although it does lend itself to protag Kafka’s strengths in battle (non-”turning into a monster” category), it all falls to the wayside when it’s time for monsters, guns, and explosions. And I’m fine with that stuff, but I was hoping for a bit more of a hook.

All in all, this is a very well-made show, if a little muddy-looking at times. I wouldn’t have chosen YUNGBLUD and OneRepublic for the opening and closing themes, but it didn’t hamper my enjoyment of the show. I just like complaining about that stuff. Looks good, sounds good most of the time, and endearingly dumb. Can’t go wrong with that.

21. Mashle: Magic and Muscles, season 2

I ranked this show’s first season pretty low on my 2023 list, but I was willing to stick it out for another season, and I’m glad I did. Mashle really finds its footing during the Divine Visionary exam arc and irons out a lot of the issues I’d had with the first season, primarily how little the comedy initially landed for me.

A series that initially had my eyes either rolling or glazing over quickly recovered my attention early in the second season. Creepy Nuts OPs are a cheat code, I swear. Even putting the killer music aside, Mashle looks a lot better as well and has a much more engaging story in its second season. You can really feel it gaining its footing and finding a bit of swagger as the season goes on. The fight sequences are much more engaging this time out, and sometimes you get all the satisfaction you need out of seeing an emotionless weirdo punch the shit out of a mean nerd. A bunch of the jokes even land this time around!

I’m glad I stuck this out. Mashle is, at the end of the day, a hilariously blatant Harry Potter send-up, and frankly has no good reason to hit like it does, but I’m finally sold. At the rate it’s been going, Mashle seems to be set to adapt the entire manga, and I’m looking forward to seeing all of it.

[steviewashere]

She Lives in My Dream State

Rating: General Pairings: Past Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Platonic Stancy, Pre-Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington & Eddie Munson CWs: Mild Recreational Marijuana Use (More Implied/Referenced) Tags: Post-Canon, Vague Timeline, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Comfort, Pining, Pre-Relationship, One-Sided Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Good Friend Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington Has a Vague Bisexual Awakening, Bisexual Steve Harrington (If you Squint), (He Hasn't Figured Out All His Feelings Yet for Eddie), Eventual Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Bittersweet, Hopeful Ending, Talking About Dreams This isn't my New Years fic, but I whipped this one out really fast tonight (because I'm pining over somebody I can't have, all that good stuff), so. I promise I've got a couple works that are coming out hopefully by the end of the week! I've just been very ill—woohoo!!! Title taken from Tyler, the Creator's "See You Again", the actual lyric is, "You live in my dream state."

🫂—————🫂 Steve and Nancy become close friends. Closer than most. Maybe not closer than he and Robin, but close enough. They're enough together. And Steve just has to take that.

He reasons that they'd be better friends or maybe even best friends had circumstances not have been. If Nancy was never his girlfriend and the Upside Down never happened and he was never bullshit. But. Well, you can only get so much out of people. And this is what he gets. An ex-girlfriend that still laughs at his jokes, but doesn't touch him the way it matters. An ex-girlfriend who's a friend, nothing more.

She moved to Boston, following her dreams like she always said she would. He believes in her, so he knew, of course, that she'd get to where she needed to be. Steve shouldn't miss her, not as much as he does, but he does. That's the problem. He'll get phone calls from her, excited and bright and short, she's got a column in the local newspaper, her dorm-mates are considerate, there's a library within walking distance. He's so fucking happy and proud.

But also...

"I think I'm still in love with her," he confesses one night. It's late, too late to be talking. There's a burning sweep of ash in his throat, a joint nearly roached between his fingers, and some movie playing in front of him. The television is quiet, buzzing and fizzing.

"Yeah?"

Oh. And Eddie's here, too. Replacing one friend for another. Not that Nancy did stuff like this, sitting around with him, smoking and shooting shit. No, she was more the kind of girl who enjoyed binging some rom-com from the discount bin at Family Video, sipping hot gos as Steve put it out into the world. She liked wine nights—it was the only stereotype she allowed herself to have.

He swallows around smoke. The joint begins to hurt, so he leans forward towards Eddie's coffee table, putting it out in an already full ashtray. They should really break this habit. Do something else. Find another thing to entertain them, but the weed loosens the works. Makes it easier to be himself without trying so damn hard. Not like it matters. Eddie figures him out anyway. Perceptive bastard.

His hands hang between his knees. Head heavy on his neck, pulled forward so his shoulders hunch. The screen flashes, and so his eyes dart to figure the picture. He's never been able to paint it clearly, doesn't understand the image, can't caption the words.

"I don't know," Steve murmurs, "it's just...she calls me, y'know, tells me everything going on in her life. And I know she's broken up from Jon, working on herself—whatever that means—but I...I hear her talk about these guys and girls she's bumping into on campus. Don't think she realizes, but she's on her way to falling in love with her lab partner."

"You saying you're jealous of a person you've never met?"

"I'm not the jealous type"—

"Sorry, Steve, it sorta sounds like you are."

Sighing, relenting, Steve rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat. Nods against the back of the couch, gaze adrift to the water stains on the ceiling. "Maybe I am, then. But I'm not gonna do anything about it, swear. She's happy now. Has her whole life ahead of her. Not the kind to settle down and have a brood of children, I get that, but I guess the dream still clouds my brain."

Eddie looks to him, he can feel his burning stare. He keeps his gaze astute on the ceiling. There's something in him that melts with Eddie's molten eyes—he'd let the change happen at a moment's notice. Not now, though. And definitely not yet. "You guys are on two different worlds," Eddie states softly, "she isn't yours to keep. And I'm sure she doesn't want to be kept, not now at least." He bumps his hand on Steve's thigh, the contact burns, but Steve doesn't shy from it. Instead, he lolls his head and looks over.

One day, his brain won't be set on Nancy.

Maybe it'll be somebody else.

"I don't how you're supposed to do it," Eddie continues, "but you have to move on, Steve. Be her friend, but don't let the thought of her eat away at you."

He swallows, a sour lump heavy in his throat. "I know," he mutters. His eyes are heavy, wet when he blinks them. But Eddie doesn't acknowledge that, doesn't make fun of him. It's nice. Steve sighs. "I just think I'm gonna love her forever and there's nothing I can do about it."

"I know, Steve," Eddie whispers, matching the tenderness, "but one day, things will be different. I swear, Stevie, they will."

"Yeah"—he nods once, quickly. Lets out another soft breath—"did you know that Nance and I met on her first day of freshman year?"

"Mm, no I didn't. Tell me about it?"

At least Eddie won't shut him down on this. Not like other people have.

"She had these big, square glasses on," Steve reminisces, "her hair tied up in this ponytail, stray hairs all around her face. We were at this club fair. I was looking into the student council and she was at the booth beside me, the business club's. And all I could think was, there's no way she's interested in that, must be her dad talking."—he snorts—"when I went over to ask her about it, she did one of those big, nasty sighs. All...jaded or whatever. She told me her dad was full of shit. Honestly thought she was gonna be some prissy, pretty mouthed girl who's well-mannered—that kind of garbage—but she wasn't. She was honest.

"I knew, right then and there, that I was gonna find a way to woo her. Maybe it was just...maybe I was being a bit too out there for a fifteen year old, but I honest to god thought she was the one for me. My soulmate. But then...well, y'know the story of us. Not meant to be." Steve sighs, wistful and forlorn. The image of fourteen year old Nancy Wheeler, her too big glasses and her smile full of braces, gone in an instant. He continues, "That dream I had where she was my wife, we had that whole crowd of kids, sometimes I think that was my dad talking. The ideal family mumbo-jumbo. But I think, if her and I were different people—if she wasn't afraid of becoming her mom and I wasn't afraid of becoming my dad—maybe that whole thing could'a worked out. But...Nancy's too brilliant for that. Too brilliant for nuclear bullshit. And I'm sorta...sorta behind, y'know. Late bloomer on what I want."

Eddie blinks at him. His wonderfully dark eyes pulling Steve back to himself. The hand has returned to sit against his thigh, heavy and warm and sure. Grounding. "What do you want, Steve?"

He blows out a sharp breath. "Loaded question," Steve says, "I want to get out of Hawkins, I know that much. Find somewhere to be. To be what, I'm not sure, but something more than just...just world's best babysitter who knows when to have a car at the right moment and also the inventory system for movies I've never fucking seen."

The smile that compliments that statement is only born from Eddie's warm laughter. He wants to nurture that smile, the way his cheeks stretch with it. It's the warmest thing he's felt in a long while.

"What about you, Eds, what do you want?"

"Honestly, I don't fucking know," Eddie answers in turn. "I wanted to be a world famous rockstar. But every time I put my fingers on the frets, I think about Metallica and world ending doom, so...guess that's sorta out of the cards. Oh, maybe I could write shit! I could...I could take the whole world ending bullshit and turn it into some sci-fi novel. Call it...The Underworld or something."

"The Underworld or Something sounds like a mouthful," Steve teases.

"Right...The Underworld. Title in progress. Hell, you know, maybe you could be my editor?"

"I'm not a strong enough reader for that, Eds." Eddie chuckles and nods, conceding. Steve just relishes in the tired sound of his laughter. "Got any other gigs you think I could do?"

"Book binding," Eddie says easily, "it's methodical. Takes some energy to focus on the craft, but you work a lot with your hands and tools. Something quiet, so you aren't dealing with angry moms and their crying children. But something just bland enough that you're not overexerting your efforts. Could put your brain on hobbies you wanted to work. Book binding and playing basketball in your free time sounds like the dream for you, Steve."

"Yeah? You've been thinking about this for a while? 'Cause, gotta give it to you, if that's improvised, you're a fucking genius."

"Ah, thank you, thank you...you flatter me, sweetheart. In another life, I take the world by storm with my on stage presence."

"Why not in this one?"

"Hollywood's too convoluted," Eddie says, "they'd probably do some evil shit like put me on an unethical diet and call it the beauty world's next hot tip or something. Or, y'know, they'd put me in a Speedo catalog. Don't think I could do that, ruins the integrity of my image."

Steve snorts again and swipes his tongue inside his lower lip. "Hm," he assesses, eyes squinted at Eddie's shorts-clad legs, "you've got good enough legs for it, though. Put you in some zebra print tighties and call it couture."

"Again, Steve, you flatter me." Eddie hits his thigh again, drawing his attention back. "Seriously, though," he says, voice dropped low, "one day you'll have things figured out enough. Maybe you'll still love her, maybe you won't. Maybe you'll be binding books or working a cash register. But, someday, you'll be the Steve Harrington you need yourself to be. Not today, and that's okay."

"Yeah," he sighs, "not today."

He thinks of Nancy, happy in Boston. Jonathan happy in Lenora. Robin in Seattle. All of them, sans Eddie and himself, separated and happy.

It's bittersweet, to love somebody he can't have. It always will be. He knows, despite himself, that he's going to love her until the day he dies. And she won't know that, and that has to be okay. They missed the chance—he missed the chance. Things are for the better, though.

He has a new friend in Eddie. He's got a load of feelings to stifle through. And he's got a lot to look forward to in the coming years of his very formative twenties. But for now, this is it: wallowing on Eddie's couch, tossing jokes at one another, smoke coating his throat.

It's not the best, but it could certainly be a lot worse. Things are reasonable and he's alive and some stuff is amiss, but things will work out.

Especially since he's got a new person on his side.

🫂—————🫂

[tittyinfinity]

contemplating deleting my blog soon I might make a new blog but idk

[candiedspit]

I also truly believe despite my conditioning that mania is a gift from god when I was young & manic all the time I was literally unstoppable I never went to the hospital I never saw any doctors I knew what was happening to me but I liked it I remember once hallucinating and being really comforted by the hallucinations not scared at all …the only reason and I regret it now so fucking much but the only reason I agreed to go on psych meds was because I had a month long psychotic episode and was always one inch away from calling an ambulance on myself …antipsychotics change ur brain so ur dependent on them I used to go off meds and be “fine” (meaning I was manic as shit all the time, but would self medicate to get through the hard parts) now if I miss one singular dose of either of my meds I am hallucinating and benched for the day …I had everything at one point in my life and now I have fucking nothing and it’s gotten to the point where I have no choice but to take these toxic fucking pills

[lucky-clover-gazette]

vent

did not expect kissing and realizing i’m lowkey dating a guy to send me down an existential spiral of reminding me that i have only one life to live and then i am going to die without living any other different lives