#and it’s okay to not be into that side of fantasy

[abysswalkerastraea1]

Art with a psycho girly partner? 🥺

Beguiling Perniciousness 🎀

I love this ask! 💗

Your eyes briefly swept over the decapitated body and the viscous fluid oozing out of it; you didn't bat an eye. You were bubbly, but there was something downright malicious simmering below the surface; He knew you'd cross paths again as he watched your amiable self skip down the road and fade into the distance.

6k words

Girly reader who is obsessed with Art 🎀

Do I even need to say that it's smut it's all I ever write

You played the part well, he'd give you that. Art had first caught sight of you in the old costume shop in Miles County, lurking towards the back where all the nauseating pinks and creams amalgamated to create it's own fantasy-like microcosm, full of various princess and fairy costumes and similar varieties.

He didn't particularly pay you much mind initially, his focus solely on the girl he often terrorised, grinning eerily at her with a sense of foreboding. He remained cruelly amused even as the adolescent with the ironic angel wings dashed out of the shop, eager to flee his suffocating presence.

His mind had slipped the possibility that you had remained within the shop, excitedly trying on pretty tiaras and adorning yourself with sparkly jewellery, all the while remaining oblivious to the grotesque murder of the store assistant, his head cut clean from his neck. Blood pooled upon the floor, draining from the ugly orifice. His head had been tossed haphazardly to the side.

He had heard your bubbly self round the corner, humming happily with an armful of items and clothes, before bumping into his side hastily. Art peered down at your mildly shocked expression, gauging the way your round cheeks appled out into a smile.

Blood lightly covered his form, and specs of it had been transferred onto you. You didn't react, as happy as ever, giggling at your mistake. "Pardon me! I'm sorry, I'm in a world of my own.", your curls bounced as you gazed around the shop, bypassing the crude, decapitated head, and instead focusing on the locked door at the entrance of the shop.

"Oh! I didn't realise they shut so early. That's okay, I've got everything I need.", you whirled past him, almost skipping over to the door and unlocking it. The dresses and other items in your hands still had the tags on them, unscanned and unpaid for. As soon as you stepped a foot out the door, the alarm rang.

Even still, you remained as unperturbed as ever, glancing back at the clown. "You won't tell, will you?", you had indicated to your stolen goods, flashing him a dazzling smile. "You look like someone who knows how to keep a secret.", your eyes briefly swept over the decapitated body and the viscous fluid oozing out of it; you didn't bat an eye.

In fact, your smile rivalled Arts as he nodded slowly that, yes, he could definitely keep a secret. His head tilted inquisitively, searching your expression for a semblance of fear or shock, but he genuinely found none. As you offered him a cheerful goodbye and skipped off down the road, Art bet most people thought you were ditzy and dumb.

Staring at your receding form in the distance, Arts keen eyes knew the aura of darkness when he saw it. You were bubbly, but there was something downright malicious simmering below the surface. He didn't bother seeking you out, you were bound to cross paths.

That had been a year ago. A few weeks after your initial meeting, Art had paused his laborious work of crafting within the dilapidated house due to the sound of male shouting tinged with irritation.

"You've brought me out here for what? You said I could fuck you, so why the fuck are you leading me into the middle of nowhere? Got your boyfriend out here or something?"

The tone was downright condescending and full of unrighteous anger; he believed you owed him something. Art stood amongst the shadows of the lowering sun, arms crossed languidly as he watched, recognising your melodious voice instantly.

"You don't have to be so crude about it, I just want to have a romantic walk in the forest." You pouted, eyelashes fluttering at him as a small smile tugged at your lips, a pretty sheen of lipgloss staining them rosy.

The man gave you a disgusted grimace, checking his phone repetitively. He seemed aggravated, pawing at your skirt covered hips and backing you into a nearby tree. He outright ignored everything sweet you had to say, barely sparing you a glance as he scrutinised your form hugging jumper appreciatively.

Still, you prattled on and on, rambling kindly about how beautiful the forest became in the autumn, how refreshingly cold it was and that it was the perfect weather for a nice walk-

"You've got such a slutty body. Shut your mouth for me, yeah?" Hands began smoothing the already short skirt up your thighs, bunching the fabric, before they were slapped away. You ducked past him, skipping over to your bag that you had dropped earlier on and started searching for something.

"I just need to grab a condom. I'm a good girl, you know." You twirled a lock of hair with a sly smirk, digging through the multitude of items within your handbag. You pouted your lips in mild irritation, hand swiftly seeking what you needed, before you nodded to yourself happily, hand clutching what you desired.

Standing straight, you twirled around and offered the man a wink, to which he scoffed. Barely a second later, his kneecap was blown off as a resounding bang echoed throughout the thicket.

He screamed and fell to the floor in a heap, blood pouring grotesquely over the leaves that blanketed the damp ground. You held the gun out in front of you, aiming steadily. You shot the other knee, face stoic, and rolled your eyes at the blood curdling scream he released.

Art remained in the shadows, arms folded with intrigue as he chuckled to himself, eyebrows low. He watched the man roll back and forth upon the ground, crying out for help and for mercy. Peering back at you, he cocked his head at the way you giggled with a delicate hand covering your mouth, gun held high.

"You're so silly for thinking I'd ever let you touch me. At least take a girl out for dinner first, you know?"

With a playful wave goodbye, you shot him in the head, watching the way his body collapsed backwards, twitching. All fell silent. You sighed contentedly at the peace, smoothing your skirt back into place pristinely.

A rustle of leaves drew your attention, a tall, monochromatic man standing eerily still, lurking behind a tree at you. He was grinning. You waved at him amicably; he returned the gesture.

"Oh, I'd recognise you anywhere! From the costume shop, right?"

Art nodded slowly, stepping out from behind the tree and taking measured steps towards you. You still held the gun in your hand, but it was pointed at the floor.

As the clown approached, you found your neck craning upwards, his body swallowing you in it's shadow. He was lithe and lumbersome, grinning down at you.

"Think you could keep another secret, Mr tall and handsome?" You giggled, face a light pink from his close proximity and intense stare; he was alluring. In fact, you found yourself downright infatuated with him. You could sense the danger oozing off of him in waves, and although a bolt of caution shot through you, you couldn't deny the peculiar attraction you felt to his unique and theatrical self.

Art declined his head down at you, pointing softly to himself, humbly, as though to say 'who, me?', before comically twisting to look behind him, seeking out the other person you were surely complimenting.

It made you giggle again, smiling sweetly up at him as you shook your head at his playfulness. "Sorry, I shouldn't be so bold. You're the miles county killer, aren't you? It makes me nervous being in the presence of someone way above my calibre."

Your eyes fluttered around cutely, before returning up at him with a beautiful sparkle. Art waved off your compliment dramatically, grin sharpening at your girlish giggle. To anyone else, his rigid closeness and predatory stare down would immediately raise flags. But you seemed happy enough, cheeks a cute pink.

"It's so difficult though, being efficient, secretive and untraceable just like you. If I had half of your strength, it would make my life so much easier. It really takes it out of me having to lug these bodies around. And also-"

Art didn't take notice of when you both had begun to walk slowly through the shadowed forest, only that he didn't mind hearing your rambling. He watched you gesture dramatically as you told your stories of having to lure horrible men into the woods before shooting them, and cocked an eyebrow as you suddenly changed subject and fawned over the falling leaves, excitedly proclaiming your love for the various reds, oranges and yellows.

Art nodded thoughtfully at most things you said, even if the gesture was slightly mocking in its sincerity. Even still, he quite liked your voice, and he found himself laughing at some of the tales you told. You were delicate, short of stature compared to him; It would be incredibly easy to reach over and snap your neck. Art found that he didn't want to.

He wasn't restraining himself out of kindness, and he wasn't even actively attempting to be polite. He simply wanted to act this way, here and now, as spontaneous as always. It was humorous, for once he was the one listening calmly, and you were the one grinning far too widely at him.

That was some time ago. Since your first real introduction, you had seen Art here and there, pleasantly surprised when he'd turn up just as you were about to clean up the mess you made of a body, only to drag it with ease to whichever location you desired and burn it.

From there on, sightings of him became even more frequent, moreso to the point that one day you heard a crash in your kitchen, running down with gun in hand, only to bare witness to Art standing menacingly with a horrific smile, blood coating his form and a scissors and pliers held intimidatingly.

Upon seeing you, confusion entered his eyes, his hands lowering. You had never seen the clown appear bashful at his own mistake, raising his hands and shrugging as though to say 'oops'.

It made you giggle, hand to mouth. You pointed towards the window, indicating to the house nearby. "Art, weren't you supposed to be killing my neighbour tonight? You've trespassed the wrong house!" You snickered, bounding over to him excitedly and staring up at him with the most innocent, adoring expression; it made him want to lift the pliers and rip your stunning eyes out and keep them forever.

Art had the decency to realise his mistake, scratching the back of his head awkwardly before rolling his eyes up to the ceiling. He remembered you saying you lived close to his next victim, but he didn't realise you were adjacent. Mistakes for him were so rare.

Art scoffed at himself, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air as though saying 'ive made a real mess of this'. His theatrics made you laugh, increasing drastically as you watched the way he perched his hands on his hips in exasperation.

"I'm really glad you're here. I've never shown you around my home before, so..if you've got time..." You trailed off softly, lifting your hands and crossing your fingers with hope as you danced side to side, awaiting his response.

Art deliberated upon that, taking his time as he watched you dance, before shrugging once with a grin. Sure, why not. He could spare a minute or two before he absolutely maimed your neighbour.

He felt your smaller form bolt over to his side and lock arms with him, and he let you. You pulled him along, showing him each room swiftly before dragging him up to your bedroom and pushing him in.

"You look soo dangerous in my room! I love it!"

You had a point. Perusing the room, he found it to be incredibly girly. You had a lot of pinks, fairy lights everywhere and a few teddies here and there. His monochromatic self standing eerily still within your room feels like he's siphoning the pretty colours out of it.

Regardless, you utterly beamed at him, more than happy. You bordered on manic, he thought, body shaking in excitement and fists clenched so hard. Your bright grin stretched wide, eyes round and watchful, focusing solely on him and his reaction.

After what felt like ages, Art lifted a finger up to his neck and mimicked a cutting motion, head tilted to the side and tongue poking out like a comical cartoon character that had been killed. This room was far too bright for him, sickeningly sweet and adorable, but your high pitched giggles of glee at his honest opinion had him chuckling silently too, eyebrows low as he watched you dazzle.

That had been one of your biggest turning points with the clown, and from that day you saw him almost daily. In fact, he walked into your home whenever he felt like it. You'd find him lounging on your chair by the TV at random times in the night, or eating at your kitchen table serenely.

What you cherished the most was when he took you to his dilapidated hideout, dark and dingy and cold, fully juxtaposing your little home; you were now the only beacon of light and colour in this place.

He did enjoy terrifying you now and again, especially in his hideout, his tall form no longer behind you, silently waiting for the moment to make you scream. Each time it made you incredibly excited, anxiety building up inside of you giddily.

When you'd least expect it, Art would be there, coming at you with a hatchet and swinging it downwards playfully. He'd listen to your high pitched squeals and relish in the way you'd flinch and cover yourself protectively. He'd laugh and point at you, shaking his head; it got you every time.

"You're so scary! But honestly, you're so attractive when you do that. Surely some of your victims admit that? The women? Maybe some men?" You swayed your shoulders bashfully, cheeks turning pink like they so often did in his presence.

Art paused at that, a mild look of bewilderment shaping his face at your proclamation, before a sinister smirk darkened the expression considerably. You blinked owlishly as the clown began to take measured, predatory steps towards you, backing you into a damp wall.

He was so tall, caging you against his body, and all you could do was stare up at him with wide eyes, gnawing your pretty lips in anticipation of his next move. He chuckled silently at your reddening cheeks and the way you reached your hands up to cup them delicately. Finally, as an answer, he shook his head slowly.

You seemed mortified. "Did you cut their eyes out first or something? You're handsome to me! Tall, intimidating, dark, incredibly strong--", you began counting on your hand all of Arts best qualities, all the while the clown crossed his arms and nodded patiently, egging you on to continue with a wave of his hand.

"--Honestly, I've always thought this, but I didn't want to be too bold, and I'm feeling really shy with you backing me up against the wall but I also love it, and--and I'm rambling because I'm nervous."

Your admittance seemed to be the biggest factor that contributed to how the two of you were now: You completely smitten with him, and him accepting the fact that he would never kill you. You were sweet and you made the best hot chocolate, and you did make the killings more fun so he'd keep you around.

You were incredibly bubbly, always smiling at him beautifully and helping him cut up body parts with your constant giggles that rivalled his own. He had unintentionally made you cry once, and a foreign emotion had struck him.

Art thought it would be incredibly amusing to offer you a badly wrapped gift with a human body part inside it. He did it mostly to shock you and hear your shrieks of surprise that would eventually melt into laughter, and he didn't particularly put much thought into what body part he would gift you with.

Upon opening the box, you were stunned into silence at seeing the rotten, maggot infested heart staring back at you. You didn't cry out or scream, and you didn't giggle or smile. Instead, your large eyes filled to the brim with tears, lips quivering before the fat droplets spilled over and a sob was wrenched from you.

"Oh my God.", you held a hand to your mouth, mascara streaking your cheeks messily. "Is that a heart? For..for me?", you spoke in utter disbelief, words whispered and shaking. Art cocked his head at your peculiar display of sadness, but nodded nonetheless. He had never seen you cry before.

"That's the most romantic thing that anyone has ever done for me.", you rushed out in a broken sob, sniffling and wiping your tears profusely. Art blinked, face depicting confusion, lips tilted downward. His mind blanked as he awaited your explanation, amusement doused temporarily.

"Id always appreciate anything you gift me, but a heart? Of course I'll be your girlfriend!" You shrieked out with a sob, box dropping to the floor as you jumped and lunged at the clown, arms wrapping tightly around his neck.

He felt your tears soak his neck, his hands lifted up in mild shock, face deadpan, frozen as you wrapped your body around his own, perched upon his lap. Art rolled his eyes up to the ceiling in amusement and exasperation, mimicking your emotional sobs over your shoulder with a dramatic pout, wiping imaginary tears from his eyes.

He eventually threw his hands up in defeat, chuckling to himself. He did not foresee a reaction like this coming when you opened that box. He was more than content to play along, and eventually wrapped his strong hands around your body, charcoal eyes swirling with evil. He rather enjoyed your spontaneity.

Following the initiation into an apparent 'relationship', Art received a few gifts from you too. He himself received a human heart in a black, satin box. It was relatively fresh, and he couldn't help but sigh dreamily and flutter his eyelashes at the romantic gesture. His theatrics were over the top and evidently condescending, but it flew over your pretty head.

He was mildly impressed. You often used guns to kill your victims, lacking the strength and speed to ever out maneuver anyone bigger than yourself. Your hands were never that dirty either, you were not acquainted with using sharp weapons on the human body, so to be gifted a heart of all things, carved with effort from somebody's chest - it made Art nod in genuine approval.

The rest was history.

Art felt unnaturally domesticated within your presence, but he really didn't mind. You had a lot of uses, and he couldn't deny the possession he held for you. If claiming you as his own meant that you were in a 'relationship', then so be it.

He remained nonchalant to your girlish romanticism. He found it to be amusing and peculiarly cute, and even when he'd coo at you mockingly like a little dog, you loved it. In fact, a lot of his condescension did not perturb you. You were overjoyed at him mocking your kissy faces, pouting petulantly, mirroring your own actions.

Art couldn't deny enjoying the tender moments too. He had come to the conclusion long ago that he would never kill you - you were the only exception - and would display surprising levels of intimacy if only to hear your high pitched giggles and tease you for your pinkening cheeks.

Like right now, how he had his large palm delicately stroking your soft hair, brushing strands out of your face. His hand reached down to cup the side of your face, thumb tenderly rubbing circles upon your cheekbone.

You sighed dreamily, the exhale leaving your nose as you bobbed your head up and down his thick length. You sat perched on your knees between his wide thighs on the living room floor, sticky lipgloss leaving a messy residue on his shaft, your lips glistening with saliva.

You had been doing this for a while, languidly pleasuring him, and he let you. He allowed you to sink to your knees and fondle him until he was half hard before your loving mouth engulfed him. All the while, he watched whatever movie you had on TV.

Even when his dick was fully hard, splitting your jaw apart, he barely looked at you. He was focused on the movie, a masked killer hunting a woman down, and hardly spared you a glance even as you worked him faster, slurping and sucking him messily.

It made you unbearably wet, craving his attention, craving even a semblance of pleasure in his expression, or a buck of his hips to indicate that he was enjoying it. Instead, he stroked your cheek delicately, lazily, as though you were a pet that was doing a satisfactory job and nothing more.

Your brows knit together frustratedly, and you took him deep into your throat, saliva pooling down your chin as you choked and moaned quietly at the pulsating between your thighs. You were so wet it was beginning to coat them.

Granted, you had foregone the underwear, instead wearing an incredibly short skirt that had your plump ass cheeks hanging out. You were needy today, you depended on his attention, but he refused to spare you even a thought and it made childish tears well up in your eyes.

Your knees spread below you, skirt rising up higher upon your hips. If he had spared even a moments gaze upon you, he'd see the way your tight, puckered hole swallowed a pretty buttplug, embellished with a sparkling pink diamond on the end.

The pressure was pleasant, and you used your inner muscles to squeeze the toy, wiggling desperately as you did. You closed your eyes as you began sucking him lewdly now, the sounds becoming sloppy and loud as you reached a hand between your legs to play with your aching clitoris.

You were dripping whorishly upon the floor, moaning around his huge cock as you rubbed circles around the pulsating nub before slipping your fingers over it directly, hips bucking in relieved pleasure.

Arousal surged through you as you felt his hips lift the slightest, seeking the back of your throat, and your eyes flew open to witness the serenely blissful expression on his face, only to widen your eyes.

His gaze had been unknowingly on you for a while now, lacking it's usual grin and instead staring sternly, eyebrows low and shadowing his dark eyes. There was a lecherous blackness in his gaze, drinking in the way your cheeks reddened considerably, eyelashes fluttering bashfully against your cheeks.

You had his full, undivided attention now, and it only served to make you increase your efforts tenfold, bobbing your head up to the very tip to suckle the sensitive nerves, lapping up his salty precum with your hot tongue, before sinking back down as far as you could go, lifting a hand to fondle his swollen balls, encouraging them to unload inside your wanting mouth.

Arts intimidating stoicism faltered momentarily at your ministrations, head leaning back into the cushioned chair as his mouth opened in a silent, pleasured exhale, his sharp and angular jawline emphasised greatly from this angle.

That subtle, minor expression of bliss shot bolts of unfiltered arousal through you. You moaned around his cock, redoubling your efforts even as your jaw ached. You suckled your way to the tip, releasing his solid length with a pop; your hand took over, jerking him steadily.

"Mm, I get so wet whenever I give you a blowjob. If you had spared half a second to look at me, you'd notice.", your voice came out in a quiet, childish whine, lips pouted dramatically.

Art lolled his head to the side and stared down at you, eyebrow cocked in a silent question. He scrutinised your little pout and the way your eyes sparkled with unshed tears and a slow, sharp smirk etched it's way onto his face.

Aw, did you crave attention? Are you his little attention whore? Art snickered at the thought, but found that this must surely be the answer; you craved his affections, and he chuckled as your lips quivered.

Art stroked your face tenderly and pouted right back at you, nodding and mockingly agreeing with your little outburst. It really was awful of him, wasn't it? He'd have to rectify that.

Before you knew it, you found yourself bent over the arm of the chair, legs kicked apart as he toyed with the little plug in your ass, wiggling it back and forth. You had a glorious ass, round and fat and smooth, and even he wasn't immune to its juiciness.

He jiggled your cheeks playfully, watching the skin mold to his hand and ripple outwards under the pressure. One day, he'd fuck your tight little rim raw, and the thought had him rock hard as he pushed his cock against your sodden pussy and glided in halfway with a teasing smirk.

"Nng, don't tease me. P-put it all in, stretch me out-", you begged pathetically, pushing your luscious ass back against him.

Art pulled out slowly to the tip, rubbing along your folds for a moment, before catching the tip against your hole. With a playful wiggle of his eyebrows, he sunk in as deep as he could, parting your velvety walls. The stretch was always considerable, always tinged with pain. It made you shudder beautifully, back arching.

"Yes, yes--Love this feeling, love you--", you rambled in a high pitched, girlish tenor, moaning as he filled you to the brim and more.

Arts face split into a nasty, smug grin behind you, shoulders shaking with laughter. It was pretty clear that you loved him, he thought. Each time his cock found your sodden hole you'd proclaim this proudly, delirious and euphoric.

Gripping your waist, Art smoothed his calloused hands down to your hips and back up rhythmically, hearing you sigh in delight.  He fucked you the way he knew you loved, hard and deep, and had no issue acting so intimately, so romantically, as you'd say.

You were his, and he enjoyed your feminine noises of pleasure. He felt that you were the only instance where he would ever act this way. With you, he didn't merely act on a whim anymore, dangerously spontaneous. Of course, that did happen on occasion, but in moments like these, when he was paired up with someone so bizarrely loving, so warm and bubbly and intimate, he found that reciprocating wasn't all that hard anymore.

He revelled in your little adoring sighs as he smoothed his way up your womanly figure, and the way you'd nuzzle into his palm every time he'd trail a strong hand down your jaw and onto your neck to hold possessively.

You were as unhinged as him, but you were also..gentle. He didn't particularly want to hurt you too much anymore. He did want to fuck you into a crying mess, however.

Art pressed a thumb to the dazzling diamond sticking out between your cheeks, applying pressure so it sunk in deeper, all the while fucking you hard and filling you so full.

He had a feeling that you were hinting at something with the way this delectable little toy jutted out of you. You were so pure on times, he imagined you found it hard to admit. That was fine, he'd get it out of you one way or another. If you wanted your ass played with so much, all you had to do was ask.

He wiggled the toy back and forth, pulling on it slightly and feeling the way your tight hole suctioned it back in. You whined at the feeling, your ass and pussy deliciously full, and stared back at him with dazzling, loving eyes.

"Ahh-Art--Feels so good-!", you gasped, moaning sweetly to him, so high pitched and whiny that he couldn't help but coo down at you in faux affection. His cock pummelled into you rhythmically, the wet slap of skin permeating the air. His heavy balls slapped sinfully against your pulsing little clitoris causing your legs to quiver and shake.

Art gripped the base of the toy more firmly, wiggling it side to side once again, before pulling it out from your tight rim. You whined noisily at the feeling, shuddering as you felt his fingers dip down between your legs to gather lubrication, before prodding at your hole once more and sinking in to the knuckles.

You cried out, back arching and legs widening further at the feeling of his thick fingers rhythmically filling your ass. It felt dirty and forbidden, something you had never done before, but each and every time he gave your virgin hole attention, whether it be a delicate stroke of his thumb or his tongue lavishing the area, it had you so wet and sticky that you could barely handle it.

Art grinned salaciously as his digits pumped into you deeply, all the while his rigid cock slipped into your pussy relentlessly, stretching you in ways that you should be used to by now, but you never were. He was so long and thick and it made your mind whirl with pleasure.

"S-so dirty putting your fingers in there I--ahh-- I shouldn't like it but I do!", you rambled adorably, your tongue loosening as he fucked you harder, snapping his hips against your bouncing cheeks.

Art snickered and shook his head at your innocence; A finger in your ass was probably one of the least dirtiest things he had touched. Another digit entered your passage, his hot length ravaging your pliant form. You cried out in broken whimpers, rambling little, soft compliments about his sheer size and how you needed him to fuck you, how you loved him.

You became dumb once his cock was near you, he found. He quite liked it, revelled in your incoherent stammering, or the way your eyes would be glued to his massive length.

Art grinned cruelly down at you, a sudden darkness enveloping his irises as he gripped painful handfuls of your hips, his fingers no doubt bruising the tender area, before he pushed your body forward so your upper half fell down with a yelp, your ass fully on display for him and fucked you so mind numbingly rough that tears streaked down your cheeks, your high pitched sobs and cries to slow down were music to his ears. In the next breath, you'd beg him to never stop.

Your thighs quivered and shook as his balls slapped hard against your clitoris, his cock fucking into you so sinfully you were outright weeping. You shrieked when your orgasm peaked, splattering down your quaking thighs as you gasped and fisted the blankets desperately.

Art grit his teeth in concentration, feeling that overwhelming urge to unload himself within you. He placed a rough hand against your head and forced you downwards, his head tilting back and lips parting in bliss as his cock filled your crammed little hole with ropes of hot cum. His hips stuttered as each powerful rope shot out, your pulsating walls milking him and lapping up as much as it could before the excess spilled messily out of your pussy, around his girth and down his balls.

You were panting shallowly as he finished, unceremoniously dropped as his hands and body removed themselves from you. Cum dribbled out of your used hole, and you flushed darkly as Art righted your bunched up skirt, smoothing it back down over your ass and putting his cock back inside his costume as though he hadn't just decimated your body and mind brutally.

You pushed yourself up on weak arms, turning to face the cheeky grin of the clown who looked as pristine as ever, not at all out of breath and sweaty like you were. Art indicated to the forgotten movie on the screen, nodding over to the settee so that you could both take a seat and finish it, but upon taking a step forward your legs felt so shaky you thought you were about to collapse.

You stumbled forward and gripped his costume tightly, gravity making the thick, warm cum inside of you dribble down your thighs messily. Art outright laughed at your unstable legs, cooing down at you and winking at you slyly. He shrugged nonchalantly, raising his hands as though to say 'oops'.

You giggled up at him bashfully, feeling him lead you to the settee before you promptly flopped backwards onto it and spread your legs out over his lap. Art didn't mind, from how short your skirt was he got a good eyeful of your glistening, puffy pussy. It made him scoff darkly to himself, shaking his head.

"Oh, Halloweens on. This used to be my favourite film, I had a massive crush on Michael Myers for the longest time-".

Ah, there it was - your silly ramblings had started again, and Art cocked an eyebrow at your admittance, peering at the character on the screen who seemed to be choking a stupid teenage girl.

"--And I guess I do like Jason too but, I don't know, he never appealed to me as much as Michael--"

Art nodded along to your cute outburst, watching the way your eyes sparkled passionately. He smoothed a hand up your calf, smirking.

"--But Jason is so much faster than Michael, which is kind of attractive, you know, the whole predator/prey thing, and--"

Art raised both brows now, grin positively evil. You wanted to be chased, did you? Hunted down and captured like a victim? Interesting. He began to chuckle to himself, arms folded and turning in his seat so he could give you his undivided attention.

You felt your cheeks pinken at his look and realized you had probably admitted too much. From the way he wiggled his eyebrows, stare turning predatory, you knew he was plotting something.

"What? It can't be that surprising that I'd..kind of like to be on the receiving end one day. We hunt so many people, it must be hot being hunted," you sighed dreamily, hand reaching over to his and stroking it tenderly. It was rough and calloused.

"Especially by you. That would be..", you paused, biting your lip in a sultry display. You imagined the scene: Him undoubtedly capturing you and having his way with you. You could feel heat blooming in your abdomen. "-Exhilarating. I-Ive thought about it a few times.", you shrugged softly, embarrassed. You struggled to meet his gaze, but when you finally did, it made your breath hitch.

Long gone was that teasing grin, instead replaced by a stern austerity, eyebrows low and shadowing his dark, smouldering eyes. He chuckled once, demonstrated by the way his shoulders lifted in amusement, but his face remained downright terrifying and blank.

You fluttered your eyes to your lap, crimson faced and fidgeting, rubbing soothing circles into his veiny, strong hand.

"Do you...like that idea? I-if not that's okay. It's weird. I shouldn't have said anything.", you trailed off vulnerably, uncertain. You struggled to decipher his moods when he wasn't smiling, and it scared you.

A firm hand gripped your chin, tugging it upwards to meet his fiery gaze forcefully. He was so close, suddenly leaning halfway over your body and with a deliberate, slow nod, he wanted to make it clear that he would very much enjoy that.

You bit your lip in nervousness despite his clear agreement, studying his expression cautiously, but a smile soon graced your lips as Art wiggled your chin fondly back and forth, offering a small smirk; He liked that idea.

Soon, your face brightened up, and you practically jumped at him and snuggled against his chest, his thigh between your own. "You make me so happy.", you whispered, sighing in delight as you watched Michael kill another teenage girl.

Art shrugged playfully, patting your head. You probably should have never admitted that fantasy to him. He'll chase you like you wanted, give you a little head start, but after that he'd treat you like a real victim. You'll be so terrified that you're shaking, having second thoughts about the ordeal.

Then he'd fuck you into the dirt like a whore, knife held too close to your neck, borderline cutting into your flesh. He wouldn't go too far - Some light cutting, some choking, a gun to your head. It was all relatively toned down.

Even still, no matter how much you begged and screamed and pleaded, you'd still hold that adoring infatuation for him. It made him tilt his head back fully, unhinge his jaw and laugh so violently it actually scared you.

You knew what he was. You knew the dark, unfathomable pit of evil inside of him would swallow you whole too, making you his victim one way or another.

You knew he wouldn't kill you, but that doesn't mean that he'd never torment you. These were facts that you simply accepted; you loved him, you didn't know if he was capable of such an emotion, but him keeping you alive and treating you tenderly now and again was enough for you.

It made your heart sing and your insides pulse with need. Leaning your head fully against his chest, you curled up against him as he almost naturally enveloped you in his arms, holding you close. You nuzzled into him and savoured the moment.

You couldn't wait for the future ahead. You couldn't wait to maim more people with him and make love to him in their blood. You couldn't wait to become his next victim.

The thought made you wet all over again.

[finelinevogue]

teenage fantasy

summary - you & harry dress up as each other’s teenage fantasy’s

word count - >500

pairing - new-boyfriend!harry x reader

✨🌅✨🌅✨🌅✨🌅✨🌅✨🌅✨🌅✨🌅✨

“Y/N, love, Gem’s here!”

You heard Harry shout from the hallway where he was on door duty for the first portion of the evening.

After licking your fingers clean of frosting and rinsing them off with water, you made your way out of the kitchen to greet your guests.

“Hello!” You excitedly said upon seeing Gemma and Michal. “Look at you two! Edward and Bella is a classic.”

“Yeah, but you and Harry have already won the competition for best Halloween costume. I mean… Who’s going to beat Anakin Skywalker and Padme?”

After hugging Gemma and greeting Michal, Harry pulled you into his side. The lightsaber hanging by his side hitting your leg as he held you close.

“Harry wanted to do a couple’s costume.” You stood talking in the hall.

“Well, it is my first time being able to do a couple’s Halloween costume babe.” He smiled down at you, happy that it was you looking back up at him in this moment.

“The first of many.” You replied softly.

“Okay alright. I need a drink before I have to deal with you two being so in love.” Gemma laughed, walking her way to the kitchen and Michal following.

You were about to follow but Harry caught your waist, drawing you back into his chest with a giggle from you.

“What?” You asked acutely when Harry was just staring down at you with a soft smile.

“Nothing. I’m just happy.”

You let out the most hideous giggle, driving your head against his chest to hide the way you reacted to his words. The way Harry made you feel was like nothing you’ve ever experienced before. He made you feel safe, happy and free all at once.

“Me too.” You spoke against his chest.

You tilted your head back up, resting your chin against his chest to look up at him from a weird angle.

“Can your dress up as Padme more often?” He smirked and you rolled your eyes.

“Am I dressed up as some teenage fantasy of yours?”

“Well I know i’m dressed up as yours.” He spoke huskily as he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

Once he’d kissed you once, you wanted so much more. You reached your hands up ready to give him a deeper kiss that you deserved, only to be rudely interrupted.

“Harry, I know Y/N looks great an’ all, but can you please come open these bottles of wine. No clue where the opener is.” Gemma sticks her head around the door to ask her brother.

“It’s somewhere in the top drawer. Help yourself.” He waves her off and leans back down to kiss you, only for you to move back.

“Uh uh. We’re the hosts, mister. You can kiss me all you want later. For now, we host.” You patted Harry’s chest.

Harry groaned and followed unwillingly after you like a sulking baby.

“You’re too easy.” Gemma laughed at him as Harry walked past her. He nudged her gently and sulked off to go and open the bottles of wine.

[wzkfuu]

:3

Basically Leon just getting edged also yes this is probably gonna be ass👅👅

reader is a women and um um this is SMUT SEXUAL THINGS ARE HAPPENING MDNI!!

okay enjoy

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

Leon’s propped up against his headboard, back at his own apartment. His hand’s wrapped around his cock, pre-come beading at his tip. He bucks up into his fist shallowly, cussing softly to himself as pleasure washes over him.

His eyes flutter shut, images of her , flashing through his mind. Her touching him, feeling him. Her warmth against him, Her soft hands around his cock, whispering dirty obscenities into his ear. In his free hand, he holds his phone— tilted to his ear with the voice message she had sent him recently. He moans aloud, tilting his head back as he replays it over and over again. He loves it, he loves her voice. His other hand thats wrapped around his cock starts stroking faster, his hips bucking up abortedly— he’s so fucking close.

"...oh fuck, —," She hears Leon moan, hearing the whimpers and groans on the other end. Unbeknownst to Leon, while listening to her voice recording, he had pressed call. She had picked it up of course.

“Leon? Is everything alright?” He hears from the other side of the line.

Leon freezes, eyes wide. Holy shit. He’d accidentally called her and she picked up. She heard him. Oh god. He was so close, too. He wanted to just let it go, let himself fall over the edge with her voice in his ear, but his pride stops him. He can’t let her know how fucked up he is, how much he needs this...needs her.

"Uh...yeah. everything's fine." He says breathlessly, trying to play it cool. He clears his throat, hoping she doesn’t notice how ragged it sounds. "Sorry, I must've hit the call button by accident. What's up?"

He keeps stroking himself, slower now, savoring the sensation. It's not the same as when she touches him, but it'll have to do. He bites his lip, stifling another moan as he imagines her watching him, seeing what he's doing. The thought sends a shiver down his spine.

“Leon are you..are you jerking off right now?” She says whispering the last bit

Leon freezes, eyes widening. Fuck. How did she know? He swallows thickly, his mouth suddenly dry. "I...uh...I don't know what you're talking about..." He lies unconvincingly, his voice strained. He can't deny it, not with the evidence right there in her ear. His ragged breathing, the slick slide of his hand over his cock. He's been caught red-handed.

A part of him wants to hang up, to escape this humiliation. But another part, a darker, needier part, wants to embrace it. Wants her to know exactly what she do to him. He groans softly, his hips twitching up into his fist. "Maybe I am..." He admits, his voice barely above a whisper. He's trembling now, his orgasm building despite his best efforts to hold it back.

"Fuck, baby ... I can't help it. I think about you all the time. About your hands on me, your mouth..." He pants, losing himself in the fantasy. He's so close, teetering on the edge. He just needs a little more. "I'm gonna...I'm gonna cum. Please, say something else. Anything..." He begs, too far gone to care how desperate he sounds.

“Didn’t know you’d be the type for phone sex Leon. , you’re a little naughty aren’t you?” God , he can practically hear her smirking from here.

Leon groans at her words, his grip on his cock tightening. Fuck, she sounds so good. So dirty. He loves this side of her, loves seeing her let her guard down. Loves knowing that he's the one who brings it out in her.

"Yeah...yeah, I am. I'm fucking naughty. Especially when it comes to you." He growls, his voice low and rough with desire. He starts stroking faster, chasing his release. He's so close, he can feel it building at the base of his spine. His balls draw up tight, his body tensing.

"I want you, baby. I want to bend you over and fuck you until you can't walk straight. I want to make you scream my name." He pants, his words coming out in broken gasps. He's right on the edge, teetering, waiting for her permission to let go.

"Please... please tell me to cum. I need it. I need you baby..please..." He begs, his voice breaking. He's shaking now, his body wound tight with tension. He's never needed anyone like this before. Never wanted someone so badly. He needs her so so badly, needs her touch, her approval. Needs everything she can give him.

“No. You’re gonna wait since you lied to me at first .” She smiles lying down on her own bed feeling the wetness in her panties slowly circling around her clit.

Leon whines as she denies him release, his cock throbbing in frustration. He's so fucking close, he can taste it. But she’s right, he did lie to her. He deserves this punishment.

"Fuck, baby. Please, I'm sorry. I'll take it back, I swear. Just let me cum." He begs, his voice high and needy. He hates how desperate he sounds, but he can't help it. His body is on fire, every nerve ending screaming for release.

He keeps stroking himself, teasing the sensitive head. He knows he shouldn't, knows he'll just make it worse. But he can't stop. He's addicted to the sensation, to the pleasure.

"I'll do anything, baby. Anything you want. Just please, don't leave me like this. I need you." He sobs, his hips bucking up into his hand. He's a mess, he knows. A pathetic, whimpering mess. But he doesn't care. All he cares about is her , about pleasing her.

He's shaking now, his body wracked with need. He's never felt anything like this before, never been so consumed by desire. He needs her, needs her touch, her approval.

"Baby.., please... I'll be good. I promise. I'll make it so good for you. Just tell me what to do..." He pleads, his voice breaking. He's begging now, shameless in his need. He'll do anything she asks, anything at all. As long as she doesn’t leave him hanging like this , desperately stroking his cock with all that pathetic whining.

“Don’t do anything. I’ll be there soon.” He hears before the call ends now sitting there waiting.

[alienpossession]

"Let me turn this shit on. Okay son, now what did you say to me?"

"I wanna lick your nipple dad, you know how Mom gave me formula too early, I need to suck some tits or something and you seemed to be having quite a milker,"

"How can you speak to your own father like that? You should be ashamed speaking like that so nonchalantly,"

"Well, why don't you punish me then if you feel so distraught by it? Wash my mouth with your spit or something for speaking to you like that,"

"Hmmmm....if you say so,"

Javad gives Kamil a gentle slap to both sides of the 19 years old cheek. Kamil smiled happily before sticking out his tongue as if to receive somethin. Then, holding Kamil's head steady, Javad spits right on Kamil's mouth before starting to kiss his own offspring as their tongue battled for dominance.

Their depraved debauchery lasted for several minutes, with Kamil on his knees receiving streams of spits and kisses from his father. Sensing that Kamil's mouth is already wet enough, Javad then stopped kissing Kamil and he instead lifted his wifebeater to expose the prized perky nipples. Lost in his fantasy coming true and devoid of any remorse from encouraging his extraterrestrial friend to just took over the body of his religiously homophobic dad, Kamil lunged at the hardened nipple and bask in his father's warm muscular pecs with the phone still recording for their personal viewing later tonight

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 06

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

NOAH

Prisons are noisy.

I went through the security check and was ready for the visit, waiting in a room with several tables where emotional family members awaited their loved ones who could walk through that door at any moment. The minutes on the clock with hands, hanging on the wall in front of me, moved with hypnotizing slowness.

Tick. Tock.

It didn’t take long for her to come, hands restrained by handcuffs and wearing an orange jumpsuit. Not very different from her daughter in physical appearance, even though the daughter was much prettier. I saw her neck stretch as she searched the room for someone she knew, and when she spotted me sitting there waving with a small smile, her posture stiffened.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Crystal barked, sitting in a chair across from me. Without any manners, she didn’t even say good morning.

"I found this in a pile of mail and saw you needed a visit." I signaled with the paper between my fingers. Opportunities rarely landed so easily in my lap, but this one was worth thanking the gods for.

"But it wasn’t your visit I asked for! Where is my daughter?"

"Was there a problem with your watch? You’re nine years late to ask if she’s found a place to live!"

"That’s none of your business!"

"Everything concerning her is my business. Don’t be ridiculous!" I said, loosening my tone slightly.

Crystal looked around uneasily. Her nails were dirty with soil, and she looked sweaty—I guessed it was from the prison’s activities. Clearly, the days here weren’t treating her well, judging by her expression and the size of her dark circles.

"How did you end up here?" I asked, tilting my head to the side. "No… wait! Let me guess! This is definitely your idiot boyfriend's fault, isn't it?

"I need to talk to my daughter," she completely ignored my sarcasm and dragged the chair closer to the table.

"Don’t tell me you’re hoping for her help to get out of here?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

Her silence made it inevitable for me to burst into laughter, shaking my head slowly. Leaning forward, I rested on my elbows on the table to speak as quietly as possible.

"You know when I’ll let you get near her again?" I whispered into her wide eyes. "Do you think I don’t know what you’re trying to do? You realized you’re alone, and she might be your only source of money and a ticket out of here. Only for you to then go after that man and keep ranting about her on social media like a lunatic, giving even more material for the people who hate her to make her life a hell!"

It was impossible not to notice the sudden change in her expression. With me, she could show her true face without hesitation. Playing the victim wouldn’t work.

"And what makes you think you have the right to come here and tell me what to do?" she questioned, lifting her chin as if she were in a position to challenge me. "I don’t think we’re that different when you took advantage of my daughter’s open door to keep destroying the little she had left!"

"EVERYTHING THAT FUCKED HER HEAD UP UNTIL NOW IS YOUR FAULT!" I spat, pointing a finger at her. From the corner of my eye, I saw the guard adjust his position as the conversation escalated. "No matter what I did to fix it, you always seemed to be there like a damn shadow to remind her where she came from!"

"I’m sorry if you wasted nine years of your life, boy."

Suddenly, that sentence felt like a shock through a high-voltage wire, and I stood frozen, staring at the apathetic face of the woman in front of me. I couldn’t say for sure if I had wasted nine years of my life while we were together, when I knew nothing but her. No other feelings, no other touch—nothing that didn’t come from her. All because I refused to live something different, something that didn’t include her, even if it meant facing hell every day.

I blinked a few times and clenched my fists before my thoughts could drag me into a place I couldn’t return from now.

"If it’s up to me, you’ll rot in this place, and I’ll do everything to keep her further away from any news about you."

Crystal swallowed hard, her fingers fidgeting nervously, tensing as my presence loomed over her. I leaned down to leave one last message in her ear.

"And I’m sure you’re still in touch with that boyfriend of yours. Don’t forget to tell him he can’t keep running from me forever," I whispered with satisfaction, hiding a little laugh.

Slowly, I straightened up and looked down at her one last time, seeing her as still as a statue, staring blankly at the table. I stepped back gradually and walked toward the exit, dreaming of the moment I’d finally rid myself of that place with its strange smell.

When I arrived at the studio, the band was in their respective spots, rehearsing on their own. Everyone was laughing at something that quickly lost its charm the moment I crossed the door, as if a dark cloud had invaded their colorful world.

Chewing my gum with more intensity, I hardened my expression as soon as I saw Landon sitting on one of the stools, like an audience interacting with the performance on the small stage in the center of the room.

I didn’t miss for a second that his eyes—and his stupid, unfunny jokes—were directed at one single person, who seemed to find joy in even the wind brushing through her hair. I shot him a brief glare that could have pierced his body while the energy drink can in my palm seemed to disappear under my grip. We worked at the same record label. He was the owner's son and the vocalist of some irrelevant band. Naturally, we didn’t get along.

“You’re late, Noah!” The lone feminine voice broke our eye contact, and I turned to join the others. I didn’t bother looking at her directly, but out of the corner of my eye, I watched her adjusting her guitar while he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

More precisely, off her long, tattooed legs, exposed by a short plaid skirt.

“I’ve got a watch,” I replied.

An awful silence filled the room in seconds, and Folio broke it with a casual drumbeat, a habit whenever we traded jabs.

“And you, Landon?” I asked while checking the microphone setup. “Don’t you have anything better to do? I remember booking this space just for my band today.”

“No one complained about me being here before. We’re just hanging out, chatting, man. Don’t tell me you’re gonna cry about it,” he said, smirking. “Ruffilo was giving me a few tips.”

It felt like my face had been plunged into a tub of lava, the heat rising so fiercely in my cheeks. If the mic stand could talk, it would probably beg me to stop gripping it so tightly.

“I don’t see any problem with Landon watching the rehearsal.” Strangely, she seemed overly agreeable today, her sultry tone almost convincing if I weren’t paying attention. Actually, I knew perfectly well why she was acting so liberally—she was high.

“But I do,” I snapped without taking my eyes off him, still lounging in his seat like he owned the place. “We already have enough issues with band members getting distracted, and the last thing I need is a pest hanging around!”

“Buzzkill.”

I caught a whispered insult from afar, followed by their shared laughter, which only fueled my rage.

Jolly and I exchanged glances, and I was sure he was thinking exactly the same thing I was.

“I won’t ask you to leave again!” If my eyes had the power to kill, his body would have been shattered to pieces by now.

“Okay, okay! See you later...” He stood, shoving his hands into his pockets and shrugging in mock surrender. “Oh, Noah, almost forgot—I’m hosting a little party at my place, just something casual with friends. It’d be cool if you came with the rest of the band.”

And who said we were friends?

“See you there!” Folio shouted from the back of the room.

Landon nodded, and just before leaving, I noticed him brush his hand against hers in a slow enough motion for her to take whatever he handed her and tuck it into her pocket. I took a deep breath as the door shut, leaning my head against the microphone stand with my eyes closed while my bandmates silently gestured to one another to start playing.

“It’s too late…” she began, testing the microphone.

“Stop.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, throwing her hands up.

“You’re doing it wrong.”

“Okay, okay!” Jolly intervened. “It’s fine; we’ll start over.”

The intro of Take Me First started again, and I saw her clear her throat, straightening her posture as she inhaled through her nose and exhaled slowly through her mouth. Even after all these years, she still warmed up incorrectly, yet her voice seemed to defy every logical explanation, getting better every time despite her doing everything wrong.

Every time she opened her mouth and delivered a line, my mind entered some hypnotic state. My body didn’t care about the destination, as long as she was guiding the journey with her characteristic husky, dramatic tone.

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I ordered. “Start again.”

“It’s too late…”

“Stop!” I repeated. “You’re still coming in at the wrong time!”

Her lips trembled as she huffed in frustration, and without saying a word, she excused herself, marching across the room to lock herself in the bathroom.

“Have you lost it? She’s coming in at the right time, according to the new intro!” Jolly snapped, impatient. “If you’re going to nitpick, at least point out real mistakes!”

“Jolly’s right, man. Chugging all that energy drink is probably messing with your chakras!” Folio teased, punctuating his words with a playful cymbal crash.

“Folio, where did you even get the idea that energy drinks can do that?” Ruffilo asked, spinning his neck around with a puzzled expression.

“Let’s continue the rehearsal,” I said over my shoulder, watching them exchange glances.

“But she hasn’t come back yet…”

“If it mattered to her, she’d be here. Let’s go!”

Without questioning, they returned to their positions, and the intro started again. I cracked my neck from side to side before leaning into the microphone. During the opening bars, I closed my eyes, trying my hardest to pretend she was in some parallel space where her shadow couldn’t reach me.

But all it took was opening my eyes to collide with reality.

The bathroom door was still shut.

After practice, everyone grabbed their things and left for their destinations.

I have to admit, I felt betrayed, but screw it.

Lying on the couch in the living room, nothing seemed to hold my attention. I couldn’t watch a movie, couldn’t read, or even jot something down in a notebook because even the sound of the pencil scratching the paper annoyed me. I picked up the guitar and placed it on my thigh, hoping silence might serve as inspiration, and on the first chord, my luck had the string snap.

“Shit.”

I sighed, bored, banging my head against the back of the couch. On the floor, there was a pile of crumpled-up balls of paper from all my failed attempts at composing something. My mind was emptier than my stomach.

“I hope your little party is awful, sweetheart,” I murmured sarcastically to myself. Maybe talking to myself was the last stage before fully surrendering to madness.

The light of headlights in the garage caught my attention through the window. Judging by the incessant chatter, it was the guys—they were laughing and coming inside with parallel conversations and an armful of grocery bags. When I came face-to-face with them, I did a mental roll call, frowning when I noticed someone was missing.

“Huh,” I hesitated, crossing my arms and leaning against the couch. “Weren’t you all at the same party?”

“No, we changed our minds and went to the supermarket,” Ruffilo shrugged, lifting the bags. Suddenly, all the smiles disappeared. “She’s not here?”

My feet went numb, and for a moment, I thought I was floating, the ground vanishing beneath them. What pounded in my chest could easily be mistaken for the echo of a drum, grating against my ears. I didn’t fully understand why, but there was an unsettling itch beneath my skin that spread throughout my body, like a thousand needles piercing all at once.

“Shit.”

“Noah, where are you going?” one of them shouted, but I was already out the door and in the car, turning the ignition with the same speed I left the garage.

I was definitely speeding, but my vision felt too blurred on the city’s narrow streets as I swerved past car after car. The tightness in my chest gripped me diagonally, and I used my finger to loosen the collar of my shirt, trying my best to breathe in slowly and stay focused on the road.

Every time I heard a horn, it had the power to jolt me back to reality, preventing my car from crashing into another on the shoulder. The closer I got to the address, the more my agony escalated, and the harder it became to fight against the paralysis threatening my body.

I parked in the first available spot I found. Cars were haphazardly positioned with no room to maneuver, so I had to vault over a few hoods to get through. Loud music and a dense crowd amidst smoke—the party at Landon’s was so packed and noisy it was impossible to hear my own thoughts. Dodging a few girls drinking and bumping into a guy, I ended up with an entire drink spilled over my hoodie.

He was ready to curse me out but paused when he looked up and smiled.

“Noah? Noah Sebastian?” he squinted, double-checking what he was seeing. “Hey man, would you mind taking a picture with me? My sister loves—”

I didn’t wait for him to finish, turning my back on him, breathless, my heart hammering at a wild rhythm. It felt like I was getting closer.

Instinctively, I decided to head upstairs. On my way, I ran into Landon. He was stumbling over his own feet, wearing star-shaped glasses, nearly collapsing onto me. Luckily, I pushed him off just in time, throwing a punch that sent him sprawling onto the floor, creating a circle in the crowd.

Shaking my fist in the air and ignoring the murmurs, I took the stairs two steps at a time. As I reached the hallway, my insides twisted in dread over what I might find. Kicking open the first door, I found a couple—clean. The second door revealed some people passed out. The third was empty, aside from the mess.

That left me with only one option.

At the end of the hall, there was only one white door, which I assumed was a bathroom. I forced the golden doorknob and found it locked. Panic flared through my body. I slammed my shoulder against the wood, breaking through on the second try.

The music became just a distant echo.

And my heart was on the verge of stopping.

It was impossible not to collapse onto the wet floor beside her as soon as I saw her pale, unconscious body with liquid trickling from her lips. Despite my panic and groans of anguish, I forced myself to check her pulse. I abandoned every rule about not touching her again, cradling her in my arms and thrusting my fingers into her mouth to reach her throat. But there was nothing to pull out, and even if there had been, she was too limp to expel it.

“No. No. No. No,” I repeated in desperation, holding my phone to my ear while dialing emergency services. “Stay with me. Keep breathing. Please. Please. Please!”

I had no idea if I was doing the right things, but I was alone and couldn’t think of anything else besides needing her to come back. Her face was so sunken I could see the blue veins stark against her skin. Her well-shaped lips were dry and cracked, contradicting the increasingly shallow breaths escaping her nose.

“Keep breathing. Keep breathing. Keep breathing,” I kept repeating, pressing my lips to her forehead, feeling something wet and salty transfer between us as the hold music played in my ear. “Please, my little storm.”

The music outside drowned out my cries of pain—not physical, though. My body felt numb, like enduring a long episode of cramps. All the pain was internal, dissolving as I watched her grow colder in my arms.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75

[leonawriter]

I'm thinking of Akira never really talking about it or bringing it up during the engine room, or third semester, but after they meet again at some point he slips and let's out that he was sure Akechi must have enjoyed walking into that small room with a gun in his hand. It's just a passing comment.

It's not as though Akira makes a big deal over it, or as if he's upset or starts asking for apologies.

Quite the opposite, in fact - Akechi's mind skirts away, he tries to push Akira away by pointing out how he'd not felt any remorse, and instead he gets Akira wanting to know what he must have looked like, if it was anything like how he shoots down shadows- no, wait, he had a silencer, right?

It gets to the point that Akechi can't handle Akira being so blasé about his own murder anymore, and he snaps at him to stop it. Akira looks at him in shock.

Then, Akira slowly points out that sure, he'd thought that it was morbidly fascinating, he'd thought that was how it'd happened - but he also hadn't wanted Akechi to think less of him for being weak over it... or to let Akechi think he could use it as a "proof" that they would only hurt each other.

"Okay," Akira says, "let's try this again. From the top. You know pretty much what happened on my end. We explained it all. So, tell me your side."

Akechi does. Finding it hard to resist pushing, at times, but Akira's eyes have a certain quality that forces him to be honest, as though he can tell that Akechi is just putting on a mask to please or to push him.

Some months later, when they're back in the Metaverse and an enemy inflicts Crow with despair, when Crow starts to go quiet and saying things about how he can't bear it, that he kills everyone he loves, Akira Gets It, fully, and the image of his rival as someone who acts like a sentai villain when he needs to do things like shoot his rival in the head cracks and shatters.

Somehow, he's both mildly disappointed (the fantasy had been a fun one to live in) and also relieved (Akechi feels more human, and he feels a little more sure of Akechi loving him meaning something beyond violence).

[adobe-outdesign]

what do you think of the new pteri day stuff? personally i'm not a fan of the cardinal outfit mainly because something about the face just looks wrong to me, but i like the museum outfit and am glad we got a new one of those. and i think the candy pteri is so funny. i think it's cool to have a choice between a more typical-looking, but still cute, candy pet, and between using PB clothes to turn it into a peep. i've already seen people make hilarious customs with the peep pteri.

Candy: Yeah I'll admit, I'm not the biggest fan of this one, sorry. I do like the concept of it being based off a Peep (though admittedly most people outside of the US don't know what that is—note for non-US readers: a Peep is a vaguely bird-shaped marshmallow covered in sugar crystals sold around the holidays), and I do appreciate them doing two designs, one "outfit" that's super literal and then one that's more pet-specific, which shows a good deal of effort. Also, the outfit is pretty funny purely from a meme perspective in the same vein as the Maraquan Nimmo.

However, my problem is that we're on two ends of the extreme with both designs: one is literally straight up a Peep(TM) with nothing Pteri-like about it whatsoever, and one is a vaguely glittery Pteri with nothing particularly candy-like about it. Why not blend the two? Give us a Pteri with the same texture, but round out the claws, feathers, etc. Make the eye markings all blobby, give the head feathers and tail that signature Peep flip, make the pupils the little candy dots, and maybe even have a little bite taken out of the wing to show off the marshmallow interior. You could even still keep the same outfit for the meme if you want, but then you'd at least have a high-effort Peep-inspired Pteri instead of a Peep(TM) and a low-effort Pteri colour, which I think is an import distinction.

As a side note, I'm linking this post by @synthaphone out of obligation because it says most of the same things I just did but was published earlier:

Forest (Outfit): Once again, not a huge fan. I've never really liked these hyper-realistic animal outfits; I'm playing Neopets for the neat fantasy creatures, so for me, having an outfit that's just like, a straight-up cardinal feels pretty boring.

Putting aside personal preferences though, I also just find this really uncanny? It's a bad combo of way, way too much texturing and detailing on a very cartoonish body with eyes that really don't belong on that face. The rendering itself is at least objectively well-done with lots of nice shading, but I would've much preferred just a regular non-textured Pteri with the same colors and markings. Once again, the difference between making a Neopet inspired by something IRL and just making something that already exists IRL.

Museum (Outfit): Okay, now this one I do like a lot. I already made a review covering museum outfits and in it I mentioned wanting more that aren't just mammals. The Pteri is a welcome addition, following the same format as the other museum outfits but having the skeleton hang from suspension wires instead of it sitting on a platform like all the others. That's really nice attention to detail and works perfectly with the concept. While the rendering here is still more detailed than Neopets' art tends to be, it's not bothersome as it's not uncanny (being a skeleton) and you can still very easily tell it's a Pteri.

My only minor gripe is that the placard shows just a straight-up pterosaur, which is weird. I get that the Pteri is supposed to look a bit like a pterosaur with the head crest and everything, but just having a real-life dinosaur on there is kind of distracting. That's a very minor point though; otherwise, I'm a big fan of this one.

[lily-onher-grave]

okay okay okay thoughts/excited ramblings about the wicked movie under the cut bc i've seen it and now i'm insane about it again

let's be real it's kinda hard to fumble the opening number of a musical especially when that opening number is no one mourns the wicked and yet i was still absolutely blown away it was SO GOOD

the lil munchkins running, the singing in the streets, the posters of the witch (side note all the artwork was insanely good and just added so much to the style of oz i feel like) it was all so awesome

NOMTW becomes so sinister and they nailed it

obligatory emotional babbling about glinda standing alone in the crowd as everyone sings 'the wicked's lives are lonely'

before i left for the theater i was like 'take your bets on if i'll cry' and my roommate and i agreed that yeah obviously i would. but what i didn't expect is for ariana's sad face to knock me out in five minutes flat. i was done for

the effigy. holy shit. and handing the torch to glinda. i want to go see the whole thing again just so i can rewatch that scene. my heart still hurts

(also nanny! sort of not really. but i liked the childhood scenes i liked that elphaba had one (1) good thing in her life before shiz)

SHIZ okay shiz honestly shiz was the thing i was most excited for bc c'mon, we don't write about our gothic magic school all the time in fic for nothing. and honestly it was so good. the shots of the whole castle! the library design! the balcony moments and the stairways and just like the layers of architecture and the way morrible could kind of be anywhere at any time. the way it felt so grand and yet so small at the same time. idk man the vibes were good and the set was beautiful

glinda arriving by boat was magical that's all

the way everything dillamond had was tailored to him was fantastic it was so good

actually i want to shout out the library set design again and how it tied into the clockwork theme that never gets fully called out even in the musical but it's still so good

where's my time dragon clock tho

also back up the scene where elphaba loses her temper in the courtyard--when she breaks the relief of the wizard, there's old artwork of Animals behind it and i gasped out loud when i saw it

and that was the first moment i thought 'this is brilliant but i still want an hbo dark fantasy political drama tv show based on the book'

speaking of the dark fantasy political drama tv shows, the Animal meeting!! i'm so glad they put more stuff like that in there

actually as a whole the movie felt more grounded and less comedic than the musical. i think they did a fantastic job of keeping the magic and silliness and charm and wonder of the show while still adding those extra bits of drama and dire circumstances

anyway gelphie fic prank wars trope is officially canon great work everybody handshakes all around. i was cackling (silently. i promise i'm a respectful moviegoer)

the ozdust ballroom being illegal makes so much sense. it being underwater was fucking cool. boq and nessa were actually really great and i usually don't care about them at all during this scene

also i love love love nessa and i cannot wait to see more of her. but showing her multiple times on the sidelines when elphie was being humiliated was such a good choice. the tension between nessa obviously caring for her sister yet always caring for herself more is so delicious and i always want to see it fleshed out more, and i think they did such a good job with her? her and elphaba have sweet moments which i love, and her wanting to be independent and only elphaba really understanding that is so so good. and having her just watching elphaba for so long before finally saying she can't watch. god i can't wait to see her be desperate and selfish and cold in act 2, it's gonna be so good

side note boq also looking upset by elphie being bullied. i miss my brotp man

but let's talk about what's most important: the gelphie dance. because oh my god i started crying all over again. so did elphaba. and glinda wiping her tears i'm dying i've died oh my god

i always get a little bit surprised when glinda seems more head over heels than elphaba. idk why. but ariana's glinda is absolutely more head over heels than cynthia's elphaba and i loved it

(they just. freaking LEFT the party. just zipped out of there as soon as they hugged. glinda was like hmmm i just realized some things and grabbed elphaba's hand and ran off while the night was young. and fiyero stared after them knowing that he stood no chance whatsoever)

also i'm like 72% sure the guys sitting next to me were a couple? and they both cried during the gelphie dance too and it was a very unexpected but very funny moment of solidarity

i say ariana's glinda is more head over heels and i stand by it but elphaba's fond little smile when glinda was pouting about sharing secrets almost made me start sobbing again they're so GOOD they're so CUTE and she is SO heart eyes for glinda immediately!!!

i need to be sedated i swear

popular was adorable 10/10 no notes absolutely nailed it i loved every second

also glinda sitting next to elphaba in class now. my heart <3

after dillamond gets hauled away (again with this being more violent and dark and those moments of drama coming through more in the movie i loveeee) glinda doesn't sit down until elphaba does

also they had several little moments of elphaba looking to glinda and glinda either shaking her head or nodding. they've been friends for 2 days and they're already having silent conversations i love them <3

the poppy spell? was sick as hell????

another seeing of wicked, another complete sense of bafflement as to why fiyero is there

i say this jokingly but the fiyero and elphaba romance really does feel like a product of the early 2000s especially now that it's on screen rather than on stage. idk maybe that's just the lesbian in me talking though

the train design is also sick but we knew that from the trailers

okay look logically yes i knew idina and kristin would have cameos. but i'd been crying on and off and one short day's magic had already taken hold so they caught me completely off guard. it was great

the wizard stuff was really sweet. and while i was hoping for more time put toward shiz and stuff, i do think those moments did a great job of 1) showing how much elphaba just wants to be loved 2) foreshadowing the wizard being her father and 3) laying the groundwork for her briefly considering working with the wizard in act 2, which is a decision that never quiteee feels right in the show

i love that they put more lore into the grimmerie btw. very cool

the hot air balloon was random but fun. i wonder if it'll come up again in act 2

every time. every damn time glinda starts singing in defying gravity i just want someone to end it right there. glinda grabs the broom, it fades to black, and they both lived happily ever after

fuck

defying gravity taking place at sunset because it's at the end of their one short day of happiness

also UM morrible coming up and hugging glinda when she's crying. exquisite emotional manipulation i'm screaming

elphie! seeing! her! inner! child! i loved the baby elphie scenes even though i prefer creepy 'horrors' elphaba always. but seeing her come back was sooooo fucking good

elphaba only ever relying on herself, in the end

glinda's final 'i hope you're happy' took me out, as it always does, as it always should. and reaching out from the balcony? i'm sobbing again

morrible dragging glinda into the darkness while elphaba flies into the sun! someone fucking help me i'm already wrecked by these two

honestly my biggest complaint is that now i have to wait for part two, i want to see the rest nowwwww

[the-music-maniac]

This is one that ended up way longer than I would've liked but the brainrot has reached concerning levels.

Brief mentions of sephgen, sephgeal, sephzack, multishipping, spoilers for crisis core, rebirth etc. etc.

I've begun realizing the longer I traverse the various pages of FF7 fanworks that when I say I ship Sefikura, the romantic/sexual aspects of it don't matter as much to me as the emotional catharsis of it. And I say this because I feel like sefikura is often used to explore one specific type of fantasy/smut/kink etc. There's a portion of people who like the ship because they like exploring how fucked up it is for post-nibelheim Seph to try to make Cloud into a puppet - this is usually (not always) accompanied by size difference kink, sub Cloud dom Seph, etc. And while I personally despise that characterization common in that interpretation of the ship, it's still valid, cause y'all should be able to explore your own fanfics however you want. An "Ew. Oh well, none of my business." kind of deal.

I would like to make it known though, that as a Sephiroth fan I kind of hate domroth. Block me if you must, we can just agree to disagree lol.

My interest in Sefikura stems mostly from Sephiroth. I'm gonna shamelessly admit here that while I love Cloud as a character, he doesn't intrigue me as much as Sephiroth does. And I know I'm biased cause he's my favourite, but I get easily stuck on characters who were abuse victims that became villains because they gave into their demons, characters who managed to stay kind, up until they were so beaten down they snapped, characters who I think have redemption potential, even if it wouldn't be easy to do. Which can be the case with Seph both pre- and post- Nibelheim.

Post-nibelheim is a LOT harder to write convincingly, seeing as how he actually did fuck up like. Everything. And his victims don't have to forgive him. Not Cloud either, even though I am writing a post about sefikura. The redemption is more about personal improvement, rather than forgiveness. But it's really interesting because a Sephiroth that even has a chance at redemption post insanity, is one who is a mix of before and after. He still has all that rage inside him from how he was treated by humanity, still has visions of annihilation and delusions of grandeur in his head, but he also remembers that he used to love, that he used to have companionship, scarce as it was, and cared for the well being of the soldiers he lead, etc. How does he get to that point in the first place, and how does he deal with it after? With the warring that is likely occurring from those two sides, the festering resentment of knowing he was given so much less than he should've been, knowing that he had a human mother, but since he IS closer in capability to a god than a human, does he think he's a monster because of his heritage still or because he gave in? Does it even matter at this point, what he is? And what will he do, now that he has a portion of his humanity back (however that occurred) and isn't just purely Jenova? How does he deal with knowing that even in the depths of insanity, he still just didn't want to be alone? And of course the turmoil on Cloud and Co's side, usually some flavour of, okay so repeatedly killing him isn't working, I'm tired of fighting him every couple of years, I still have the responsibility of making sure he doesn't fuck everything up again, and of course the hatred they understandably feel for the shit Sephiroth has done. And as Sephiroth kind of fights to recover some semblance of identity and understanding of himself (without destroying anything), watching that occur and knowing objectively that your enemy didn't deserve what he got when he was a child, that a part of what occurred was after he was pushed to that degree - even if you subjectively can't make yourself feel it at the beginning. And then as the story progresses and characters undergo development, Cloud likely wrestling with the fact that he actually is starting to understand Sephiroth's predicament, realizing Seph can be so very human at times. And dealing with the worst sin/betrayal of all, enjoying his company for his company's sake. A Sephiroth that gets through that and finds some semblance of contentment is meaningful because it would take a mind-boggling amount of hardship and work to get there. And tbh here's where the bias comes in - it's what I would say is a happy ending for everyone. I know people would disagree, a lot would say Cloud and Co getting rid of Seph is good riddance, why should he get a chance, why should they have to deal with him, etc. hence why I acknowledge this is biased - but a happy ending to me is one where everyone else gets to stop fighting Seph and move on with their lives and Sephiroth actually gets to live the life he wanted when he was a child. I won't ever be entirely satisfied with FF7 canon for this reason (true of any tragedy). Nothing that happened to him pre-insanity was fair. So. Catharsis.

As for "redemption" of pre-nibelheim Seph, I read time travel fix-its when it comes to sefikura cause I find it more interesting. For anything pre-insanity that involves canon divergence without time travel, sephgeal, sephgen, sephzack, shipping, platonic or poly makes more sense to me, cause those three are positioned better to help Sephiroth in a meaningful way. Also I personally do think Cloud is a little too young for that then (even if I'm also convinced he 100% had a celeb crush on Seph. Which is also not what Sephiroth needs at that point).

So, for sefikura, pre-nibelheim redemption usually involves Cloud getting yeeted back in time, either by the planet or by choice, to stop things before any of it happens. Cloud usually believes he has to kill Sephiroth, so he'd likely be in close proximity. So how would he deal with seeing, first hand, all the ways that Sephiroth was isolated and dehumanized in Shinra? Cloud still hates him at this point, for good reason. So he's here, witnessing not only Sephiroth being a kind/decent (awkward) human being, but also the lab visits, Hojo being Hojo, being paraded around for propaganda, the effect the "betrayal" of the other firsts likely had, Sephiroth being straight up depressed and malnourished and overworked, hearing whatever lies were fed to control him when he knows the truth. How does he deal with the moral repercussions of killing a technically innocent man? Especially when he realizes that a little support and compassion could've changed the outcome entirely? And Sephiroth on the other hand, now stuck with this persistent stranger that doesn't treat him like either an emotionless weapon or a legend, but some secret third thing (is he trying to kill him???? Can't tell, mixed signals are happening). Cloud would also likely help take Sephiroth's mind off things by virtue of existing - not because Sephiroth particularly cares about Cloud at the beginning (why would he, they're strangers) but because Cloud is fucking weird. Not a soldier, still mako enhanced, angry/aggressive at him in particular and seemingly frustrated about it, history that doesn't match up to current behaviours, etc. Hell, Shinra would likely even order Seph to keep an eye on Cloud. Meanwhile Cloud is desperately fucking with the timeline to ensure everything ends up differently, and accidentally becomes some sort of support for Sephiroth in the process. Because while everyone else was so fooled by the propaganda surrounding their hero, leaving him alone to his own devices (despair and depression), Cloud knows that his attention should be on Seph right now. And I don't think he's the type to just leave things alone out of spite if Seph where to, for example, stumble out of the lab, half delirious from Mako, because of one of Hojo's whims. There's also the question of whether Cloud would know to help with Angeal or Genesis' degradation, which could help either clear up some misunderstandings between Seph and his friends, or just ensure that Seph doesn't lose them at all in the first place.

And if Sephiroth were to find out/be told the truth, about his mother, or about the future, HOW is he gonna react to that???? Knowing that okay, so my heritage isn't actually that of a monster, I have human DNA, but ended up snapping and trying to destroy the world anyways - once again, what does it mean to be a monster, and is he one already, if he hasn't even done all of it yet, technically? In this timeline he's likely closer to Zack, maybe close to Cloud, potentially has met Aerith, maybe Genesis and Angeal are still alive, so he's more tethered by a support system, so how would that change his viewpoints? Would he feel guilty? Does that send him into a worse depression?

Sefikura just tends to give me emotional catharsis when it's written like that, because it gives Sephiroth the opportunity to mourn what he should've had, and gives him a fighting chance to change it. It's someone else being shown the decades of neglect, how deep the hypocrisy of Shinra actually went, the systemic abuse, acknowledging all of the bullshit Sephiroth went through before Nibelheim. It's him breaking out of other's expectations of him, Jenova, or Hojo or whoever else, and getting his childhood wish to just be normal. Like Angeal said (quoted loveless I think) "and what do angels dream of?" "Angels dream of becoming human."

This is also why I find very little enjoyment in reading domroth sefikura. Sephiroth isn't someone who reminds me of that type of personality, before he went crazy. He seems like a very awkward, calm and even sometimes soft dude in his downtime. He's literally just some guy. We don't see a lot of his personality because he was trained (tortured) into believing anything other than perfect control is weakness and failure. I don't think he would have any sexual experience. I think he's depressed, and exhausted and alone and is just very good at hiding it. I don't think he even wants or needs sexual intimacy necessarily, so much as he needs someone to feel safe around.

Anyways. This is. Way too long now. Goodbye.

[ultravioart]

How could they pull from Scottish punks and end up at that final result? Not even a pseudo kilt silhouette like how Kiriko has a pseudo Miko Shrine Maiden garments silhouette? Hazard should have had pushed shapes (sell the turtle aspect more, add more spikes) and more body mods (funky prosthesis or punk body mods, the lizard/snake man punks are free inspo).

For a punk 'freak' hero that uses bright graffiti, his design is much too plain and 'safe' imo, not colorful enough. I much prefer that cartoon icon we saw in Venture's trial because he does look really punk with a metal jaw and green hair, possibly cool yellow shades too?

When I first saw Hazard's official design I honestly thought it was a Rein skin. I just hope future skins for Hazard are more punky. JunkerQueen and Zarya both have rather punk-y skins, and Lucio has a concept art based skin, so I am hoping for something more "out there" and fun for Hazard.

Punk is not, and has not, ever been 'conventionally attractive and palatable' and with Hazard's backstory, him being intentionally 'outlandish' would have only reinforced his outlook and story.

Like, people don't love Rein because he's eye candy, they like the hero fantasy of a big knight, being a shield, that he fights for others bravely. People don't love Doomfist because he's eye candy, they love him because his mechanics are hard to perfect but rewarding to land, and his sophisticated antagonist plotline is super engaging, and the hero fantasy of a big powerful genius with a giant fist is badass!

But Hazard? He's eye candy, sure. Got some piercings, but so does JunkerQueen. Plain black leather jacket and pants... okay but Young Cass and Ashe in general do that too. Hell, a young Tracer(in the comics she had a very punk hairstyle) was way more punk than Haz was as a teen. I don't understand why they didn't PUSH his punk design further, when we have characters like Roadhog and JunkerQueen on the roster already. Hazard is very conventional for an overwatch design, he looks like he could be a side character in a gang instead of a main hero... Boomslang(viper Phreaks member) atleast has interesting shapes on her design! The Junkers are scrappy and DIY-low end tech (scrap guns, explosives, knives) survivalists, so imo the Phreaks could have been like a Sombra-version of Junkers, cyberpunk but WAY WAAAAY more out there with wild body mods and DIY high end tech (plasma weapons, energy swords, multiple arms, etc). I did peep a retractable energy sword from Hazard in the cinematic but why not just build a nonretractable sword into his base design instead? He already has a gun arm (like Orisa).

I really do think the metal jaw would have made Hazard instantly recognizable, but man, atleast keep the toxic green spiky hair!!! Haz is brunette, so why choose blonde as the 'punk' color when his body shape is already so similar to Reinhardt? Doomfist already has a "one arm is a weapon" so that's not Hazard's iconic detail, Mauga is already shirtless so that's out as an iconic detail, and the crystal spikes aren't nearly present enough in his design to make it out like that is his iconic 'thing' imo. Meanwhile, look at JunkerQueen: she is somehow MORE punk than Hazard who is intentionally being punk. And even then, I think people forget JunkerQueen has mag tornado powers in her gauntlet. Many Overwatch 2 heroes struggle with visually telling the players what a hero is/does via the design. And don't even get me started on Venture's nonsensical jacket design lol. Juno and Hazard feel like the designs where 'simplified' from concept art so that making skins for them would be easier. Juno looked better with the armor pieces, and Hazard would look better with green hair and a metal jaw.

[dawnstarranger]

Listen everyone has their own metric for what good writing is and isn’t but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t get me down a little to see one of my faves dragged through the mud by both haters and fans alike on a pretty much weekly basis

[aphoticfirefly]

here's my piece for the "Even Rats Have Lives" zine!

the rat grinders going on little ice cream runs post ratgrind have always been canon to me!! ALSO i highly encourage you to check out the bundle itch.io!!

[writeouswriter]

You ever come up with a story concept and think oh this is brilliant, this is so good, this is so clever, I'm a genius, people will love this, and you brainstorm and you outline and you create a whole host of details about it, but also you... don't want to write it, not in a "I dislike writing" or "I want someone/something else to write this" type way, but in a "I love and enjoy this concept and want to be the one to execute it if it ever comes to pass, and yet this story/genre just isn't really me" way, like this is good but I'm not the one to do it, but also I'm the only one to do it, it's mine

[birdb1tch]

thinking about how in freshman year coach daybreak quite literally tried to kill kristen to bring the apocalypse (AMONG MANY OTHER THINGS) and upon being told this her own parents turned their back on kristen and said (paraphrasing), “thats not true and you cant prove that.”

thinking about junior year where kristen’s parents SAY shes always welcome to come back anytime and in an effort to keep the peace she says “thank you, thats very kind” HER OWN PARENTS!! ITS NOT KIND, ITS THE BARE MINIMUM! but mac and donna will never see it that way, because to them they didnt fail kristen, she failed them.

ALSO thinking about adaine’s parents who so obviously had no real love for adaine until she had use as elven oracle. and even then it wasnt love, it was a power grab. parents who start a war and leave without you. parents who only cared about power to the extent that they would be angered by adaine revoking aelwyns diplomatic immunity.

arianwen who truly could not understand that adaine was talking about when she called her mother cruel, and angwyn who thought he could “fix” adaine BY CASTING LIGHTNING AT HER

anyway, big long post about the parallels between these specific Bad Parents (and literal bad parents)

[artwah]

the sefikura brainrot is never ending i fear T_T

ref for the first art <- logan makes cool art checkout him out !

timey whimey aus are a staple of FF7 fandom and i got a bit obsessed thinking about different versions of cloud & sephiroth meeting>_< ignore the inconsistent heights lmao shhhh !!!!!!

[idolomantises]

I think I’m gonna discuss this once and hopefully never have to bring it up again. Originally I wanted to talk about it on Twitter but people are very disrespectful when it comes to mental health so… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Basically, I haven’t been doing so great, mentally. Nothing bad has happened to me, I’m safe and surrounded by people I care about, and it’s been like that for months. I just, I haven’t been feeling good.

For people who do follow me on accounts like Twitter and Instagram, you may have noticed I haven’t posted anything new since January. I was struggling to feel motivated to make something for my main accounts despite having countless ideas I’d love to work on. I feel better now and do plan on getting something done in March, but that sudden lack of motivation is pretty rare for me. Art is not only my job but a big hobby for me, I just love drawing. I did get some nsfw art done at least.

I don’t know what really prompted my mental health decline, I’ve been getting a few worried messages and fanart because someone insulted my art. But that didn’t hurt me at all, it actually boosted my account and patreon.

I guess I just… got sad?

I have a really bad tendency to suppress and even ignore my trauma and feelings of guilt. And I guess one day I really sat with my thoughts and I just, lost it I guess. I have so much traumatic memories and sudden and intense feelings of self loathing, something I’ve never felt in almost a decade, that it got overwhelming. I couldn’t reassure myself, I couldn’t really talk to anyone about it because how do you confront things that happened years ago? You feel almost irrational. It’s just memories that haunt you, it’s nothing physical or tangible and yet it’s a crushing feeling of anxiety, self hatred and resentment.

I was crying almost every day, and crying so much that my eyes kept hurting long after I was done, and I could barely see my own screen. I’ve had paranoid thoughts about myself and others, thoughts I can’t get into because they’re so deeply irrational. I was feeling suicidal urges and thoughts of self harm. I don’t see myself doing it, but it’s so frequent and overwhelming it’s like I’m already planning my suicide note.

I was talking to my therapist about it, that I was starting to hate being alive. That I hated living. That I could spend the next 50 years of my life with no more conflict or trauma and I’d still be in intense misery and turmoil. They’re feelings I couldn’t really bring myself to tell friends about because what could they say? How do you calm yourself down and reassure yourself. I can’t even talk about my trauma verbally without crying. And it’s funny because sometimes minor irks started to affect me negatively. I was feeling anxious about what to draw because I didn’t want to do deal with homophobic backlash.

I went to a therapist, I talked to friends, Ive been working out more and eating better, I did everything I should do to improve my mental health and all of a sudden a single night just sitting in my room destroyed everything I was slowly building up over the past 5 years.

It’s been really difficult for me. I think also, I just felt so much guilt over not being the best person I could be. I decided to lessen my online usage, not just for my mental health but because I really wanted to work on being a better person. I want to stop hating myself and letting my trauma push me down and I want to do just be better and do better as a person. A lot of people have been very forgiving and kind to me but I don’t feel like it’s enough and I want to do more and I want to feel better about myself. I want to give everything I can to people around me. I’ve been going to therapy a lot more lately and things are getting better for me, but it’s been a very slow process.

I just want to repeat that nothing serious has happened to me. Nobody attacked me in a way that negatively affected my health. A lot of people, friends and strangers have been really nice to me these past few months. I just was doing a lot of self reflecting and unintentionally forced myself to confront a lot of my trauma. I’m saying trauma a lot. I don’t want to get into depth about what I endured because it’s my business but people who do know me know how bad things were for me. I don’t want to feel like that again. I want to feel better, and I want to do better.

Sorry for the long read. That’s just how I feel.