#as per usual every page looks different

[ganondoodle]

Destiny, a pre-skyward sword legend of zelda fancomic ✨

Chapter 1: Demon (page 37 - 40 out of ca. 70 )

archive at @tloz-destiny

[danielnelsen]

why does google drive even have a suggestion for this??

[incognit0slut]

Doctor Reid

PART 2 OF KINKTOBER | MAIN MASTERLIST

Established Relationship Your boyfriend finally agrees to indulge in your fantasy by playing a very different kind of doctor, but on his own terms.

Content: (18+) 4k, roleplay, lingerie, finger sucking, nipple play, fingering, female oral, edging, soft!dom as per usual and him being what you guys like to call ‘a little shit’ a/n: season 12 Spencer can stay between my thighs all day every day. also, i have no knowledge on any medical terms this is just ✨vibes✨

10:34 AM

The box was heavier than you’d expected. It had been weeks since you’d ordered it—weeks of wondering if this would even get here without some awkward explanation. You’d agonized over every little detail, scrolling through pages of different costumes, wondering which stethoscope looked the most real.

And now it was finally here.

You didn’t waste a second. Your fingers worked quickly, ripping through the tape and cardboard until the contents spilled out. A crisp, folded white coat with perfectly pressed lapels and a stethoscope. And it was a real one, with cool metal tubing that felt heavy and authentic in your hand. Everything looked even better than you’d imagined.

You barely took the time to fold back the box flaps before hurrying to the next room, where your boyfriend sat comfortably on the couch, idly thumbing through a book.

“Spencer!” Your voice practically sang in excitement. “It’s here!”

He glanced up and lowered his book. "What's here?"

You grinned, bouncing on your toes as you closed the distance between you. "The doctor is officially in," you declared, holding up the white coat like a trophy, the stethoscope dangling from your other hand.

You watched as realization dawned across his face as he blinked a few times, processing the items in your hands, before letting out a soft, amused huff.

"Wow," he said slowly. "You really went all out."

"Of course I did,” you affirmed, grinning from ear to ear as you held the coat up to his chest, sizing him up as though he were already playing the part. “And it’s perfect.”

He leaned back into the couch, trying to put some distance between him and your infectious enthusiasm. “You know I’m not much of an actor.”

“Baby,” you drawled out, emphasizing the pet name with that affectionate tone you knew worked like a charm on him. It was the same sweet voice you used when you wanted something, the kind that could coax just about anything from him. “You’re not trying to win the Oscars, it’s sex. I promise you’ll like it.”

He shook his head like he was the most put-upon boyfriend in the world, letting out a mock sigh of exasperation, though the faint smile playing at the corners of his lips betrayed him. He closed his book and set it aside.

“Fine, I’ll do it,” he said at last, dragging the word out as though it physically pained him to say it. “If we do this on my own terms.”

“Your own terms? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ll see. And,” he reached out, pinching the collar of the coat between his fingers. “I’m not wearing that.”

You pouted. “What, you don’t want to look like a real doctor?”

“I think I can pull it off without the costume.” He flashed you a smile. “I’m technically still a doctor.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you teased, rolling your eyes. “Your multiple doctorates don’t exactly qualify you for this, Doctor Reid.”

“I thought having six degrees would be enough for anything.”

“Too bad none of them is needed now,” you shot back, poking a finger at his chest playfully. “The role I’m thinking of requires a different kind of expertise. More…” You paused, pretending to mull it over, “Hands-on. Less theoretical.”

The laugh he let out was short and incredulous, his eyebrows raising as if he couldn’t believe your persistence. “You’re never going to let this go, are you?”

You sighed dramatically. “Babyyyy.”

“You know, one of these days that tone isn’t going to work on me.”

“Oh, please, you love it,” you taunted, leaning in closer. “And don’t act like you’re not curious about this.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head, weighing the pros and cons, debating just how far he’d let you push him. And then there it was, that spark in his eyes. Faint but undeniable—the one that told you he was already half convinced, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Alright, fine,” he finally conceded. “I’ll play along.”

The grin you wore was at least a mile wide as you shoved the stethoscope into his hand.

1:52 PM

“Okay. I’m ready.”

Spencer looked up from his stack of papers, and as soon as he saw you standing there, dressed in nothing but lacy lingerie that clung to every curve, his mouth fell open. He blinked, trying to process the sight. Because yes, while you looked incredibly sexy, he was still baffled.

“Since when does a patient wear... that?"

You stepped closer, letting his eyes follow your every move as you shrugged with a hint of feigned innocence in your smile. "Well, I thought I'd save you some time, you know? Make it easier for your examination."

"Mm-hmm," he hummed thoughtfully, tapping a finger against his desk. "I'm not so sure this is standard procedure. I think you might be bending the rules here."

"Maybe. But I'm sure Doctor Reid can make a special exception, right?“

You shifted slightly, arching your back just enough to draw his attention. His eyes dropped to your chest, and for a moment, his breath caught in his throat as he noticed the way your nipples strained against the sheer, barely-there fabric of your lingerie. He bit down on the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile, but it broke through anyway. A slow, knowing grin spread across his face.

“Of course,” he finally replied. “I think I can be persuaded.”

With that, he leaned forward, sweeping his documents to the side in one smooth motion, before patting the now-cleared space on the desk in front of him.

“Take a seat, Miss,” he said, his voice turning low and authoritative that lit a spark of excitement inside you. “Let’s get started.”

You bit your bottom lip, fighting back a grin as the cool wood of the desk pressed against the backs of your thighs. You watched Spencer stand up and slip between your legs, his hands finding your knees and spreading them just enough to close the distance until the heat of his body was flushed against yours.

“So, tell me,” he started, his voice lowering as he fell into the role. “What seems to be the problem today?”

A flutter of nerves danced in your stomach, and suddenly you were very aware of what was happening. You’d initiated this—had begged for it, even—but it was something entirely different now that Spencer was towering over you. The confidence you’d felt earlier wavered for just a moment as his palms ran slowly up your thighs.

“I, uh,” your voice faltering slightly as his hands continued their slow journey. “I… I haven’t been feeling well.”

His fingers brushed lightly against the frills of your lingerie, teasing the lace between his fingers as he maintained eye contact. “Any symptoms I should know about? Dizziness? Shortness of breath?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest as his thumb traced small circles over the fabric. “All of the above.”

“I see.” His eyes flickered down to your lips. “Can you open your mouth for me?”

Slowly, you parted your lips, and the moment you did, Spencer’s hand came up to your chin. He tilted your head back gently, exposing the graceful line of your throat.

“I’m going to run a few tests now.” He paused, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “It might feel intense, but I need you to stay relaxed and follow my instructions. Can you do that, Miss?”

You nodded as best as you could, mouth still open, and he gave you a small, approving smile.

“Stick your tongue out for me, just a little bit.”

You followed his instructions, extending your tongue just far enough to meet his touch. His eyes gleamed with focus as he brought his thumb to your mouth, pressing it lightly against your tongue.

“Hm,” he hummed, his eyes still fixed on your mouth like he was about to make a serious diagnosis. “I think I might be starting to see the problem here. But I need to check one more thing. Can you close your mouth around my finger?”

You complied, your lips wrapping around his thumb, feeling the rough pad of it pressing down on your tongue.

“Good,” he sighed, the approval in his voice like a reward in itself. “Now try giving it a gentle suck.”

You could feel the tension rising in you. Your cheeks hollowed as you did what he asked, and you couldn’t help but think back to the hesitation in his voice earlier, the way he’d claimed he wasn’t sure about this, that he wasn’t good at playing roles. You would’ve laughed if your mouth wasn’t occupied.

But you were an obedient patient, after all. You started sucking lightly, feeling the weight of his thumb resting against your tongue. There was something undeniably arousing about how he watched you, eyes heavy with focus, and that steady weight of his finger as he pretended to assess your reaction.

The first rush of arousal made itself known between your legs. You gradually increased the pressure, and before you knew it, you were bobbing your head. But just as you fell into a steady rhythm, his hand tightened on your chin to stop you.

“Just as I suspected,” he murmured after a moment, pulling his thumb away slightly to speak. “You’re suffering from an acute sensitivity.”

You swallowed, eyes wide as you played along, trying to keep your composure despite the heat pooling low in your stomach. “Is… is that serious?”

“I’ll need to do a further examination to understand the extent of your condition,” he mused, his eyes flickering between your face and your body as if assessing you before he straightened up slightly. “Let’s check your vitals now.”

He reached behind you, fingers brushing your lower back as he grabbed the stethoscope that had been sitting on the desk all day, the one you’d practically begged him to use. His expression turned serious, as though he were truly diagnosing you, and he leaned in close, pressing the flat side of the stethoscope against the pulse point on your neck.

“Deep breaths,” he instructed softly. You inhaled sharply, feeling the tension coil tighter in your chest as the cool metal made contact with your skin. “Your heart rate is definitely elevated.”

He moved the stethoscope lower, brushing it along your collarbone, before pressing it just above your heart. You felt the thump, thump, thump of your pulse echo through the metal.

“Definitely fast,” he noted. “We might need to find out what’s causing such a reaction.”

And before you could respond, without warning, he moved the stethoscope lower, pressing the cold metal against your nipple. You let out a soft, involuntary moan as the sensation caught you off guard.

“Ah,” he muttered, tilting his head as if he were genuinely analyzing your response, his thumb grazing the lace-covered peak around the stethoscope. “I think we’ve found one of the pressure points.”

You watched as his fingers trailed up to the edge of your lingerie, dragging his knuckles along the lace before he tugged the fabric down, letting your breast spill free. Without a word, he pressed the stethoscope directly against your bare nipple. The sudden contact made you jolt, your back arching as a quiet whimper slipped from your lips, and your nipple hardened instantly under the cold metal.

“Heightened sensitivity to stimuli.” He moved the stethoscope in small circles. “Very, very responsive.”

His eyes flickered down as he used his free hand to tug down the other side of your lingerie, exposing your other breast. You tried to keep your cool, tried to pretend like his touch wasn’t turning you inside out, but it was getting harder by the second. And God, he knew it. The way he played with your other nipple, rolling it slowly between his thumb and forefinger like he had all the time in the world, was enough to make your thoughts scatter.

You tried so hard to keep your composure, but then he gently pinched and tugged on your sensitive nub, and a soft, breathy whine escaped your lips before you could stop it. With a satisfied grin, he pulled away.

You blinked, momentarily dazed. “What—?” you breathed out. “Why did you stop?”

“Medical procedure,” he said simply, his tone so casual it almost made you forget the heat of his touch moments earlier. “It’s important to give the patient time to stabilize.”

You shot him a bewildered, almost exasperated look that said are you serious right now? But he just smiled that slow, self-assured smile of his. He was clearly enjoying this far too much.

“We’re doing this my way, remember?”

You huffed in mock annoyance. “Really? That’s how we’re playing this?”

He brushed his lips on your shoulder. “That’s how we’re playing."

5:22 PM

“Doctor Reid?”

Spencer glanced up from where he was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He raised an eyebrow, casually stirring a hefty amount of sugar, the spoon clinking softly against the mug. “Hmm?”

The coolness of the counter pressed against your back as you watched him. “I think it’s getting worse.”

He didn’t say anything right away, just let his gaze rake over you, taking note of the way the thin fabric of your lingerie clung to your skin.

“Worse, how?” he finally asked, setting his mug down.

“It’s… spreading.”

“Spreading?” He mused. “Where, exactly?”

“Everywhere.” Your fingers nervously toyed with the hem of your lingerie, lifting it just enough to show a glimpse of bare skin beneath. “I really need your help, Doctor.”

His eyes immediately zeroed in on the sliver of skin you revealed. You watched as the realization flashed across his face. The corner of his mouth twitched as though he was fighting back a satisfied smirk, and you knew then that he’d taken the bait—he had to confirm just how bare you really were.

“Come here,” he ordered softly. He stepped back from the counter just enough to make space. “If it’s spreading, I have to conduct a full-body assessment.”

You slowly made your way to him with shaky legs.

“Up,” he instructed, giving the counter a gentle pat before letting his hands settle on your hips. “Sit.”

The cool marble touched the backs of your thighs as you hoisted yourself up. Then, without warning, Spencer’s hands were on your legs. He grabbed your calves, and before you could even catch your breath, he maneuvered your knees apart, placing the palms of your feet flat onto the countertop.

His eyes dropped between your legs, and the sight of you completely bare, your pussy lips glistening under the dim light, confirmed what he’d suspected. His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip as he took in every detail, the way you were flushed, open, and dripping.

“Is there a reason,” he began slowly, his voice dropping to that dangerously soft, detached tone. “Why you’re not wearing anything underneath?”

“I… I thought it might make the examination easier.”

He smiled. “How considerate.”

Then with painstaking slowness, Spencer used both thumbs to part your folds, spreading you open completely to his gaze. It was almost clinical, the way he did it, as if he were studying you like some fascinating experiment. And it was working. You could feel the heat of embarrassment rushing in your veins. God, he had you spread open like this in your kitchen counter, and all you could think was how absolutely shameless this was.

He took his time, of course. Because why wouldn’t he? Spencer Reid didn’t rush experiments. No, he would spend all the time in the world analyzing, learning, committing every detail to memory. And right now, that focus was on you. He dragged his fingertips through your arousal, spreading it leisurely over your folds like he was testing its consistency, as if that slick heat was something he could measure and quantify.

And all you could do was hold your breath.

“I have to say,” he started again, his voice low and taunting as his fingers slid back and forth slowly, grazing just over your entrance without actually dipping inside. “You’re overly lubricated. Are you always like this?”

You exhaled a long breath, trying to steady the rapid rhythm of your heart. “Y-Yes.”

Spencer's smile deepened, his gaze never leaving your face as he pressed just a bit harder, testing your reaction. “Interesting. Do you get this wet from just a little touch, or does it have to be… more?”

“J-Just a little,” you admitted, hips instinctively shifting toward his fingers.

“Mmm,” he hummed approvingly, and finally—finally—he let his finger slide just inside your entrance, only to stop right there, buried to the first knuckle. He didn’t move any further. “Is that all it takes? Or do you need more to truly feel the effects?”

“I...” You let out a whimper when his finger twitched inside you. "M-More."

“And how much more, exactly? One finger? Two?”

“Two,” you gasped, every coherent thought slipping away under his touch. “Two… Doctor.”

A satisfied smile tugged at his lips, and without another word, he obliged, slipping a second finger inside you. The stretch made you bite back a moan as you felt every inch of him dragging against your inner walls. You couldn’t help the way your cunt clenched tightly around his fingers, pulling him deeper as your slick arousal coated every thrust.

“You’re even more responsive than I thought,” he noted, adjusting his angle to brush against that sensitive spot inside you. “Your partner must enjoy this… a lot.”

He was playing his role all too well. Your fingers gripped the edge of the counter as his speed picked up. "He... He does," you breathed out. "He—he loves it."

Spencer hummed thoughtfully. "Good," he said softly, almost as if to himself. "Because this is a very special condition that requires a great deal of attention. And I'm sure that you need all the attention you can get, don't you?"

“Yes,” you sighed, nodding frantically as the pleasure built in steady waves. “I… I need it.”

"I thought so. Patients with your symptoms typically respond very well to intensive treatment."

With that, his fingers began to thrust deeper, faster, harder. The sensation of his long fingers stretching you had you moaning as you felt every drag, every inch while he continued to work you open. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more intense, he pressed a thumb firmly against your clit.

“Oh, fuck.”

He circled your swollen nub in slow, delicious patterns, and your body clenched around his fingers. This was it. You could feel it. The way your pulse pounded in your ears, the heat pooling deep in your core, every sensation building higher and higher. You could feel that sweet, sweet edge approaching, so close you could practically taste it—

And then he stopped.

Everything. Stopped.

“Spencer!”

He didn’t flinch, didn’t rush to soothe the ache in your body. He simply slid his fingers out of you, leaving you clenching around nothing.

“Open your mouth.”

You parted your lips, and he slipped his fingers inside, letting you taste yourself. The mix of your own slick and the heat of his skin made you moan softly, your tongue swirling around his fingers

“You see, you can be very responsive,” he commented in a low, measured tone. “But I think we should take a break, rushing the treatment would only compromise the results.”

He said it like it was the most reasonable thing in the world, like he wasn’t purposefully doing this to drive you insane. You wanted to laugh, and you did. But it was a defeated, breathless sort of laugh around his fingers, because you knew the man settled between your thighs still held all the power over you.

08:56 PM

“Babe?”

He laughed softly, not even glancing up from the book he was reading. “No more Doctor?”

You ignored the amusement in his voice as you walked up to the bed where he lay sprawled out, so casually composed, flipping another page like he hadn’t spent the entire day driving you mad. You reached the edge of the mattress, shadow casting over him, and his eyes finally flicked up to meet yours.

“I wanna cum.”

Spencer’s smile widened, the kind that made your stomach flip with both excitement and irritation, and he placed the book down beside him. His hand reached out lazily to brush your thigh.

“Yeah?” he drawled, tilting his head to the side. “Does my sweet girl want to be taken care of?”

You nodded eagerly. “Please.”

“Well, I do like it when you ask nicely,” he muttered, one hand sliding up to grip your waist. “And you’ve been very patient all day.”

“I have.”

“I think you deserve it.”

“I do.”

He let out an amused laugh. “Alright, lay down on the bed.”

You didn’t hesitate. You quickly shifted, lying back against the pillows. Spencer’s hands were on you immediately, gripping your thighs and dragging you toward the edge of the mattress. The room spun for a moment when he settled onto his knees. He hooked one of your legs over his shoulder, his fingers squeezing your calf as he pressed a soft, teasing kiss against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“Comfortable?”

You nodded, and just as the breath left your lungs, his fingers brushed against the slick, wet folds of your pussy. He traced the outline of your lips gently, gathering the moisture that had been building all day.

“Poor baby,” he cooed sympathetically, his breath ghosting over your wetness. And just when you thought you couldn’t take another moment of teasing, he pressed his tongue flat against you and licked a long strip from your entrance to your clit.

A desperate whine escaped your lips. “Please…”

Spencer didn’t miss a beat. He licked another long, languid strip to your clit, swirling his tongue around it before flattening it again, dragging slowly just to savor the way you trembled beneath him. One of his hands gripped your thigh firmly, keeping your leg steady over his shoulder, while the other slid underneath, lifting your hips closer to his mouth.

And when he finally wrapped his lips around your clit again, pulling it into his mouth with a gentle suck, a choked moan tore from your throat.

“Spencer,” you whimpered. “Oh god…”

The vibration of his low groan reverberated through you. His fingers gripped your thighs tightly, holding you open and pinned beneath him. You weren’t sure what was more overwhelming. The sensation of his tongue flicking rapidly over your clit or the wet, obscene sounds of him slurping against your soaked folds. Either way, it was driving you wild, pushing you closer and closer to that edge where everything blurred and all you could do was feel.

And then his tongue shifted, dipping lower to probe your entrance. He pushed inside, exploring, seeking, like he was determined to reach every possible inch of you. And damn it, it felt like he could. Each thrust and twist of his tongue sent a surge of delicious heat through your body, and you couldn’t help the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders, squeezing him tighter.

You could barely breathe as the tension coiled tighter, so fucking tight you thought you might snap. And he knew it—he could feel it, the way your walls clenched around his tongue, the way your thighs trembled against his shoulders. And still, he didn’t let up, thrusting his tongue into you deeper, faster, while his nose rubbed insistently against your clit.

He kept going, over and over, tasting you like you were the only thing that could satisfy his hunger. It was too much and yet not enough, and soon you couldn’t stop the desperate chant of his name spilling from your lips. You weren’t even sure what you were pleading for anymore—more? mercy?—all you knew was that you on the brink of falling apart.

One last stroke was enough to shatter you completely.

It was almost embarrassing how quickly you came, but with the way he was working you over, you didn’t stand a chance. The moment you felt yourself tip over, everything broke—your body tensed, your back arched sharply off the bed, and a loud moan tore from your lips. It was like your body had a mind of its own, hips grinding desperately against his mouth as if seeking every last bit of friction you could steal.

And when you finally came down, you were a breathless, panting mess. Spencer gave your clit one final, teasing suck, before he pulled back. He crawled up your body, hands sliding up your sides to push your lingerie higher. Gentle, warm kisses tickled your stomach as he threw you a smug look that only he could pull off.

“How was that,” he murmured, pausing to kiss just beneath your ribs. “For your little fantasy?”

Mind-blowing. Intense. Better than I imagined.

“Well,” you managed to say, fingers tangling into his hair. “If that’s how you plan on treating me, Doctor, I might just have to get sick more often.”

Spencer’s lips curved into a knowing smirk against your skin, and he nipped gently at your side.

“I think it’s best for you to do a regular check-up, then,” he teased, letting his lips ghost over your skin as he crawled further up, settling his body over yours. “Doctor’s orders.”

You couldn’t stop the soft, breathless laugh that escaped your lips as you pulled him in for a kiss, tasting yourself on his mouth.

You’d be more than happy to comply.

[emiliaoleary]

Hooking rugs that look like dogs

Here's how I do it:

The process I use is called rug hooking (not latch hook or punch needle or tufting, though it is the forerunner of the latter two techniques). Rugs are hooked by pulling loops of fabric strips or yarn through the holes of a base fabric with a coarse open weave, like burlap, or linen, or rug warp. The loops are pulled through the fabric with a squat-handled hook whose business end is shaped like a crochet hook.  There are no knots and the loops aren't sewed down in any way.  The whole thing stays put just by the tension of all those loops packed together in the weave of the foundation fabric.

This isn't a true detailed tutorial but a walk-through of my particular process. The same information is on my web page, emilyoleary.com .

I hook with yarn, rather than with cut strips of wool fabric, which is what many rug hookers use.  I can get a looser, more organic distribution of loops with yarn than I could with wool strips, which are hooked in neat lines. 

Mostly I use wool yarn. In terms of yarn weight, I can use DK, worsted, or Aran.  If I'm using thicker yarn, I leave more holes un-hooked; if I'm using finer yarn, I hook more densely or double up lengths of it.  I particularly like using single ply yarns (like Brown Sheep Lamb's Pride or Malabrigo Worsted).  I don't keep count, but I think I usually use around two dozen types and colors of yarn per dog.  

This is my yarn wall in my apartment. Mostly brown and gray yarn!

I start from a small drawing in my sketchbook, then I head to FedEx office to use a copy machine, blowing up the drawing repeatedly and experimenting with how big the dog rug should be. 

After transferring the image onto my linen, I immediately go over it with Sharpie, because the Saral is really difficult to see and really easy to rub off.

The rug is held taut by a PVC quilting frame that I set on my lap.

I push my hook down through the fabric with my right hand and my left hand stays below the fabric and guides the yarn while I pull it up and through with the hook. Not every hole in the fabric is hooked. Hooking every hole would make the rug too dense. I do hook pretty densely, though-- If you pick up one of my rugs you’ll see they have a slight curl to them, which is because they’re hooked pretty tight. I'm using all different weights and types of yarn, so it's a challenge to keep the overall tension even.

I hook my loops at varying heights to create a very low relief. Sometimes I trim the loops to make them fluffier or wispier or to shape a particular part. I look at a reference photo while I work and pull out and redo sections a lot.

My q-snap frame can accommodate the growing dog rug. I have extenders to make it bigger and I can clamp around my hooking.

The back of a rug looks like lines of little stitches. The lines are little worm trails snaking around because lines of hooking are not supposed to cross over each other. It's important to start a new length of yarn rather than cross over a stitch you already made! I read this when I first started and took it to heart. It makes it much easier to undo and redo hooking if you have to (and I redo sections A Lot). It also keeps the back from getting too bulky and resulting in uneven wear on the back of a functional rug that gets floor use.

When I’m done hooking everything I turn the rug over and brush watered-down Sobo glue on the edges of the dog, making sure to get one or two of the outermost lines of hooking. I do a couple coats of this thinned out glue. I'm careful not to use so much that it seeps to the front of the rug. When the glue is dry I cut the rug out, but I don't cut so close that the loops don't have any linen to keep them in.

​ It generally takes me at least several months to finish one dog rug. My hooking frame and yarn bag are very portable (though bulky) so I can hook out and about at coffee shops or the library or a brewery if there's enough space and light.

Hooking in the wild makes me an ambassador for making things in general and rug hooking in particular. I answer people's questions and always emphasize how relatively easy it is to get started hooking. Sometimes I get anxious that other people will hook rugs that look like mine but better, but I think that working in a traditional medium means you should share your knowledge for the good of the craft.

[mythrilthread]

My magnum opus, the jewel of my Binderary round-up, the result of four months of hard work (that is to say, a lot of force applied over distance), the project affectionately known as The Motherfuckers (because it was rather unclear if I was going to finish these books or if they were going to be the end of me).

Force over Distance by cleanwhiteroom. It is currently also on AO3.

I was first introduced to this incredible story by a dear friend, who first sold me on actually watching SGU, and then said that they remember this fic since like 2011, which is always a promising sign. I went digging and found out I was in luck - the story was being rewritten and reuploaded on the author's blog. The next two weeks are described by the same friend as "one of the scariest moments in our cohabitation" as I'd spent literally every waking moment injecting the story directly into my eyeballs, and let me tell you, I'd not been doing a lot of sleeping at that time.

Then I gathered up my courage and reached out to CWR re: my burning desire to bind this story. And the rest, well. Let's dig into it, shall we?

This was my first time typesetting 540k words. Considering I tend to prefer larger font sizes for increased legibility, it was immediately obvious that this was going to be a multivolume project. I settled on three, as it's the relationship between three individuals that forms the core of the story.

I also knew I wanted to keep the typeset in black and white, but play around with light and dark a lot. So I did. One of the first design idea I actually had was the way I wanted to handle projected speech. Mental link between Young, Rush and Destiny is THE most vital part of the story, and I wanted to make it immediatly obvious. I also wanted to be able to take one glance at the page and tell how much of the action is actually just two guys staring each other down :) Hence the blackout effect of thoughts being represented as light over darkness.

I also wanted to preserve as much of my reading experience as possible. So I saved all the chapter quotes/summaries in the TOC, and hid the chapter content warnings in the frame of the gate that marks the beginning of each chapter. For most of the chapter the warnings stay the same, so after a while you stop really noticing them, but then you open a new chapter and see that the familiar shape of the words has changed, and get this UH-OH feeling. Which, I think is very much how it works in my design, because when the warnings change there's usually another line of text added.

For flashbacks and dream sequences I switched from italics to a lighter shade of gray. I woudn't say it's more legible per say, but it's in keeping with the overall light/dark theme.

There are instances of people using handwritten notes in the story. I collected more than a dozen of assorted handwriting fonts, with each character having their own "handwriting". So when, for example, someone begins writing in someone else's hand, you immediately know it.

The most insane, labor-intensive part of the typeset, however, was the way I decided to handle the Ancient translations. CWR's gone through the trouble of setting up hover-to-discover for it, which gives you a very different reading experience than, say, having the translations in the endnotes. So, naturally, I said to myself that I want to replicate that, and footnotes just won't do the trick. So. Every instance of Ancient in the text has an underlay of light gray Ancient script. And an OVERLAY of paper vellum with the translation printed in blue. Now, not to toot my own horn too much, but if looks SICK AS FUCK. You also MAYBE SHOULD NOT LIVE LIKE THIS. For the two copies of this work I had to cut up 10 sheets of vellum into strips, and then spent from 20 minutes to an hour per volume tipping the strips in their proper places. I then had to wear kinetic tape on both my hands to help with the joint pain. (It was worth it.)

Now for the title spread. It is also paper vellum that you see as soon as you turn the first page (the half-title), and see it covering the title of the book and author's name. And then you turn it. And the shields sing the matter wave of Destiny through the black. And yeah, I think that's very, very clever of me, actually.

Then, of course, were the endpapers. All 12 of them are unique abstract paintings done on black cardstock by hand with brush pens and correction tape, I scanned a sample of each set for posterity. All of them are my interpretations of characters' midscapes. For volume 1 I went with the fire wind of Rush's thoughts. Volume 2 was for Young, and I went for the reverse blackout poetry effect (because for all the mental talking they do, the unprojected thoughts are opaque to their counterparts) and all the loops, hairpins and blocks he does. Volume 3 is for the combination - Rush's fire wind, changing its color to match the circuitry pattern of Destiny's AI.

The rest, in comparison, is easy. All volumes are stitched with 3 strands of embroidery floss, a combination of black, blue and silvery-gray. The French double-core endbands are sewn in the same color scheme (though with a different shade of blue and gray switched for white for added contrast). The edges are painted and splattered to look like space.

The covers feature my (signature at this point, I guess) half-cloth river pattern, with the base being dark blue linen and the printed parts being Spitzer telescope images of the W51 star forge, Jack-O'-Lantern Nebula and the Eagle Nebula (courtesy of NASA), waxed by hand for added sheen. The spines are foiled in silver with a foil quill.

Each set is 5 pound of solid hand-crafted book, with one set being my personal copy, and the other sent as a gift to the author.

And that's it, folks! This has been an incredible project to work on, and I'm very proud of what I achieved with it.

[theshitpostcalligrapher]

OPENASKBOX TIME HERE ARE THE GROUND RULES

1) Funny- the request needs to be humorous, memes usually the most popular but dnd in jokes and other shitpostery is welcome. i abide by the MBMBAM NO BUMMERS rule - there are plenty of sad/deep/beautiful calligraphers out there who’d be happy to work with yall, but this isn’t that sort of channel

2) Length - aim for no more than 75 characters a request, my cue cards are only so big so I can only fit so much on each one and still not look like garbage. There is a little leeway but if you send me smth with like 120 characters it aint getting written

3) Amount of Requests - I am trying to be fair but i am one person running almost the ENTIRE thing, logistics, tech, etc, I have twitch mods and a roommate for retrieving things and that's it. In order to be fair, please restrict yourselves to 3 requests per person to let everyone have a shot, if you send in more i will ctrl-f your username and pick my favourites

4) Content - I will not do anything I consider under the umbrella of general assholery - this includes racial slurs, edgelord bullshit, exclusionist jackassery etc. Please be kind to each other. Please let me know if I’ve taken a request that is some incredibly obscure piece of assholery, someone once tried to slip a really obscure antisemetic piece of slang by me once

5) Repeats - I keyword tag EVERY SINGLE piece i’ve ever done on this blog, if you think I might have written smth already but aren’t sure, the /search/[keyword] is your friend, check if i’ve done your request before

the proper inbox is theshitpostcalligrapher.tumblr.com/ask , not a dm or submission to the blog. I’ll close submissions too so people don’t get the boxes confused. DM me for any actual clarifications, kind words, etc so they don’t get swallowed up by the behemoth of my askbox for months, but I will probably NOT see my tumblr dms until the event is OVER. If you need to flag me down RIGHT AWAY you're GOING to have to go over to twitch chat ask there.

the BEST CHANCE of getting it written live today is to send in your requests with 3 different asks within the first hour or so of the stream going live. after the first hour, it's not gonna matter if it's in one or three asks cuz I'll be scheduling them out in advance and everything that follows the rules above will get written eventually

If you want to jump the ENTIRE queue and get your card done immediately, there are ways to donate on the twitch stream to get your request done with an ink of your choice. You can still submit 3 free requests in addition to what you pay for.

I’ll be streaming the entire time the askbox is open on twitch @ miathecalligrapher, trying to get as many of these done today as possible live. Once 10PM EST hits, the askbox will close but if you get your request into the askbox by then, it will be done eventually as I always have 4 cards up per day.

Here’s the link to my twitch, we’ll start a little after 2 o’clock EST.

Here is a direct donation link to my streamlabs, it works like a ko-fi but I’ve got it set to give me alerts on my twitch so I can see and thank you straightaway for supporting my takeout order

If you would like to receive the card you buy/request for, physically in the mail, here is the shop link:

feel free to dm me first to discuss discounting if you'd like multiple of your cards in a bundle

if you subscribe to my channel on a regular basis, I'll keep your cards back and send them out periodically regardless

there'll be 2 donation goals - one as a forty dollar threshold for ordering food, and the other one will be set at $160 since that's ABOUT the equivalent of living wage for the amount of time I'll be streaming.

[nicofics]

𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙗𝙖𝙗𝙮 𝙞𝙛 𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙞𝙨𝙣’𝙩 𝙩𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙗𝙡𝙚..

𝘫𝘰𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘰 𝘬𝘶𝘫𝘰 𝘹 𝘸𝘪𝘧𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

summary: being the wife of jotaro kujo is very hard

notes: i think i had a plan for this. then i got carried away………. also i haven’t wrote anything in like 3 decades so ignore how random this one is

being jotaros wife is hard, even though you’re used to it by now, sometimes it catches up with you, even though you’re a stand user. you had met jotaro on the trip to eygpt, you had tried to kill him due to dios flesh bud; jotaro had saved you. after that, the two of you grew close, even closer after the trip, since you were the only one his age that was left. you had even went with him to morioh, though, thats a different story. you were the mother of jolyne, she was the light of your life. you both had her young, but you wouldn’t change when you had her, you thought it was perfect timing.

jotaro went out alot, he tried to keep it a secret, what he was doing. you knew. you knew those lies about ‘studying how starfish react to different temperatures’ was bullshit. you knew that he was out fighting stand users in search for more stand arrows. polnareff had accidentally told you when he had a bit too much to drink. you wanted to shout at him, scream at him even. how could he not tell you? did he not trust you anymore? but everytime you tried to bring it up, he always did something to change the topic without knowing it.

just like right now. you were in the kitchen, jolyne had already gone to bed, she had school in the morning. you and her ate alone, as per usual. jotaro had just came home, he walked into the kitchen you both owned, a tired smile on his face, a smile only you ever got to see. “hey” he spoke, he sounded exhausted. you turned to look at him, begging yourself to tell him. “hi, jotaro” he walked over behind you, resting his head ontop of yours. oh how you melted when he did that, you turned around to face him. looking eachother in the eyes full of love, you both wonder how you got so lucky

“is jolyne in bed?” he broke the silence, you nodded, “yeah, i put her to bed awhile ago, she wasn’t happy that you weren’t there to tuck her in though” jotaro chuckled slightly, a breathy laugh. you smiled, you adored his laugh. he let you go, walking towards the bedroom you both shared, it was spacious, a large king sized bed, partially because it was on sale, partially because it was the only bed that jotaro could fit on “how was work?” you asked, practically desperate to keep the conversation alive, just so you can hear his voice once more. “fine, how about you?” you were a neurological surgeon, having seen many die on the eygpt trip, you decided to become a surgeon. brain surgery practically called you to specialise. “it was okay, tough today though” he nodded, understand the difficulty of your line of work

you stared to get changed into your pyjamas, jotaro took notice of this, and began to do so as well. eventually, you were both changed, and now getting under the covers, this was you favourite part of the day. jotaro turned on a small lamp, picking up his glasses and a book he began to read. you lay your head to rest on his arm, watching as he flicked through the pages every few minutes or so. his silent breathing lulling you to sleep, your eyes getting heavy, though, before you could give in, you heard his voice. “goodnight. love”

[sassasafreeaction]

It’s time to talk about the Laudanum Lesbians, Elspeth and Wee Morag. Right away, it’s pretty obvious that you’re supposed to draw parallels between them and Aziraphale and Crowley. When the viewer first meets Elspeth, we get this gruff girl who threatens the two of them and is established to be doing something “morally wrong”. Life hasn’t been kind to her, and she clearly doesn’t trust people. To really drive it home, she and Crowley are on the exact same page while they’re talking to Aziraphale and wheeling the body to the alley. 

Then we meet Wee Morag, and it becomes apparent that every decision that Elspeth makes is to better their life together. She offers Wee Morag food (which is something our favorite demon is wont to do for his partner) and specifically oversells it as something fancier than it actually is. Wee Morag calls her an angel. It’s meant to be a little tongue and cheek since it’s in the presence of a literal angel, but it also serves as a way to show that while Elspeth may not be a Good person, that she at least cares about the person close to her.

Now for Wee Morag at this moment, we don’t get much from her aside from her obviously being the moral compass out of the two of them. She tells Elspeth that she's going to Hell literally two seconds after referring to her as an angel. The more important part of this interaction I would argue is Aziraphale’s response to Wee Morag. Some part of him recognizes a kindred spirit in her. He takes off his hat in a show of sincerity and says that it was lovely to meet her. This is important for later in the episode.

After they fail to sell the body, all three of them end up back in the alley with Wee Morag. Elspeth is again choosing to not trust Aziraphale despite his change of heart to do what he now knows is actually a good thing. Wee Morag starts off on the fence, worried about those souls that won’t get into Heaven. Elspeth tells her that she promised to help, and through everyone’s various methods of convincing (tempting may even be the better word as there is a demon sitting next to her when she agrees), Wee Morag says that she’ll do it because that’s what friends do. Regardless, she’s now had her change of heart. Although I would say hers is more driven by the same thing that drives Aziraphale to help with the Antichrist. It is fundamentally for her and Elspeth’s benefit, not the Greater Good per say, but she needs that reframing of doing the moral thing of upholding her promises and potentially helping people.

In the graveyard, Elspeth does all of the hardwork and Wee Morag holds the light both to assist how Elspeth sees, but also likely to help her keep watch. She’s filling a guardian role for Elspeth. Later when Elspeth sells her body, she even says “She only wanted to look after me.” Upon seeing the actual body (a priest’s body no less), Wee Morag realizes with horror what they’re doing - the potential moral ramifications stare her in the face. She ends up caught in the crossfire of a gun, and she dies for it.

Originally, I thought that Wee Morag’s death sets Crowley up to worry about what might potentially happen to Aziraphale in the future. In a way, I still think it does. She was the Good character helping the Bad character, and she pays dearly for it. His line “It’s a bit different when it’s someone you know, isn’t it?” while pointed at Aziraphale can be felt by everyone in the room. Elspeth has been dealing with death this whole episode, but her whole life is turned on its head when her ‘pal’ dies. Crowley recognizes that it’s the knowing part that actually causes something to hurt. (It’s one of the reasons why he doesn’t have many human friends. He does have a friend though, and it would absolutely gut him to lose him.)

The episode isn’t over though. We still have to watch someone else pay for stepping over the imaginary boundary of Good and Evil, except rather than it being Aziraphale, it’s Crowley. Like Wee Morag, he steps out of his usual role and helps Elspeth, and for that, he pays dearly. He gets dragged off to Hell to have whatever Demons do instead of a rude note done to him. After everything that’s happened, it’s no wonder why you get that panicked shout of “Crowley” from Aziraphale. They just watched the worst case scenario happen for people like them. 

Also as another quick fun aside, both sets of characters are bound by something that allows them to not be able to carry out their actual dreams and goals. Elspeth and Wee Morag were bound by poverty while Aziraphale and Crowley are bound by their respective Head Offices.

[strawberrylabs]

Goodnight with Genshin characters! (Pt 1)

Featuring: Lyney, Freminet, Kazuha, Venti, Cyno and Childe

Summary: Nights with some of the Genshin cast based on their voice lines!

Warnings: some of these are quite angsty!(it depends on the voice line of the character), and some also contain spoilers for character lore!

Note: this is my apology post for being a solid 19 posts behind whumptober and ignoring my inbox<///3 im getting there guys I promise!!!

Lyney! (125)

"Good night. If you have trouble falling asleep, I have a few little props used for hypnosis that might help... or Maybe not. Either way, sweet dreams!"

Lyney's gentle smile after his comedic suggestion helps you feel at ease. He comes up with something different every night- you really don't know how he hasn't run out of magic-related-sleep-remedies yet.

He often goes to bed after you. Whether he's up practising some magic for his next show or doing some work for Father in the veil of the night doesn't matter to you. As long as you awake to find him there, unharmed, you can manage falling asleep with out him.

But, on the rare occaision he goes to bed at the same time as you, sharing in your night-time routine and holding your hand under the covers, the two of you can stay up for hours talking about anything, everything and nothing.

Freminet (156)

"You go ahead, I'm gonna stay up and read for a while. Hmm? What am I reading? It's, um... It's about diving. There's a bunch of skills I need to... Anyway, night!"

It's not uncommon for Freminet to read before bed. If you're lucky, he may even read with you next to him, allowing you to read along, always checking to make sure you've finished the page before turning.

Althought every night he says he's reading about diving, or marine life, or automechs, you've learned to pick up on the slight rouge of his cheeks, and the stutter that becomes a little more apparent when he lies about what he's reading. It's on these nights you know he's reading about Pers, and it's on these nights you know to leave him be.

Whether he chooses to sleep with you- in the same bed or the same room or the same house- you know not to betray that trust. And for as long as you respect him and his boundaries, he will be grateful.

Sometimes, in the night, you think you feel yourself awake to a faint 'thank you',

Kazuha (194)

"The wind has ceased... The world is silent, so now is the best time to rest well. See you tomorrow."

Kazuha often doesn't join you during the night, whether you are choosing to sleep or stay up. He opts to sit in the crows nest of the crux, listening to the silence of the night. He'll swear that from up there, it appears as if the world itself has gone to sleep with the night- the sea acts as a blanket for the life below, the stars and moon a night light for the trees and the sand and the surf, the clouds casting a shadow of calm upon the land.

Kazuha spends his nights writing about what he sees, and when you awake you find a poem written in his hand about how the beauty of the night reminds him of you.

On the nights when the land is not calm with dreams, but instead enraged with nightmares, he will sit with you in your cabin, and chat about the day gone by. Despite the conditions outside your walls, you sleep best on those nights. The nights where you awake to find you had both fallen asleep with smiles on your faces, after long conversations that drift into the night on lovesick clouds.

Venti

"Off to the land of nod? Haha, farewell, my friend!" (318)

You loath the nights where Venti bids you goodnight without joining you. You can tell by looking at the way he looks everywhere but you, by the way he laughs- hollow and false, so unlike his usual mellodic, spring filled chuckles- and you can tell by the way he says "friend", that he'll be spending his night alone in the hands of his statue, or at Windrise, or at Stormterrors lair. You know he'll be contemplating the centuries of his past.

He'll sit in his own hands, because they're not really his hands, but the hands of his first companion; and by doing so he can feel that maybe the memory of that unnamed bard who he held so dear is not truly forgotten by his people- after all, they built a statue of him, even if they did it unknowingly. He'll gaze at the bark and the leaves of the tree at Windrise, and recall how he let Mondstadt fall into the hands of couption and tyranny due to his negligance the first time around. He'll gaze upon the ruin's of Stormterro's lair- of Old Mondstadt- and replay the events from thousands of years ago, when he was just too weak, too slow, too powerless to save the first being to make him feel something.

You know you should leave him alone. Let him sort through his mind and his memories. But you also know that his mind plays the nastiest, cruelist of tricks on him- dragging him down with nightmares and jabs of "what if's" and "why's".

So when he turns to retreat into the neverending chasm of his mind, you reach out and grab his hand. You follow him into the chasm, and help brighten the darkness with the light of your presence.

Venti is reluctant to admit it- but he will.

'The monsters of my mind seem a little less scary with you here.'

Cyno

"Goodnight. Now, there's some criminal activity nearby that I'll go deal with."

You can't help but worry about Cyno when he says he's going out late to deal with something like this. You know as the General Mahamatra he has various responsibilities he must uphold. But when you're alone at night, your thoughts wander, and you ponder more on his situation.

You wonder, if his father hadn't suffered such a fate, would Cyno still be doing such dangerous jobs as a Matra? Or would he be a regular Spantamad scholar of the Akademiya? If he hadn't been pushed into this position, would he be lying with you now, drifting to a dreamless sleep with you, and not risking his life without recognition- or at least not the recognition he deserves.

You know it's not your place to think these things. Cyno is happy with his job, happy to follow after his Father, regardless of what things are said about him.

You quash your fears and your thoughts when you hear him return. He never left you for long. You knew he would always return to you. And he had every intention of doing so as long as the need remained.

Childe (182)

"Today was great. See you tomorrow, comrade!"

You always chuckled at his Ajax's tendancy to call everyone comrade. You teased him about it whenever it happened, and he always laughs with you and exclaims 'it's just habit!'

You know Ajax is busy, and he'd have less work during the day if he worked through the night. But he always insists on going to bed with you.

He created a bed-time-skin-care routine for you both- courtesy of him buying all the products. He puts is hair in a headband and follows the usual plan to a T.

When it's time to sleep, he smiles warmly at you. You pretend not to see the sadness in his eyes. He pretends it isn't there too.

So, for as long as the shadows of night will hide the pair of you, you'll bask in each others warmth, and soak up the laughter and the kisses you share.

And when the morning comes, as Ajax leaves to do jobs you never speak of, you will both eagerly await the fall of the sky's curtains, so you can forget the worries of reality once again.

Hope you enjoyed!

-Strawberry

Masterlist

Rules

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: Idk, something a bit different.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky

She doesn’t see him but he sees her. He’s not hiding. He’s right there. If she just looked up, he’d be caught. But she doesn’t so he remains.

The pointed led scratches over the thick paper. Beside the open sketchpad is a plate of orange chicken and lo mein. He hasn’t touched either. His appetite has wandered away like his mind.

Carefully he etches the line of her nose. She carries a lot of her character there, as she scrunches it at whatever she’s reading then wiggles it as she reaches to sooth an itch. She never quite stops moving, like a hummingbird, she’s aflutter.

Mrs. Zhao comes by her table to deliver her food. A plate of dumplings steaming amid a bed of bean sprouts and broccoli. A quiet thank you is uttered but her eyes don’t meet the elder woman’s gaze. He notices how she can hardly look anywhere but the pages beneath her fingers. Her shield against the world around her.

She closes the book and slides it to the edge of the narrow table for two. She grabs the chopsticks and slides off the paper sleeve. She pulls, struggling to pry them apart only for the left one to break in two, still stuck to the other. Disappointment shadows her features and she lays the chopsticks down mournfully.

He scribbles, trying to capture her expression. He has several crowded onto the page; her pensive stare, her scowling focus, and the shadow of a smile that dimples her cheeks. She takes the fork and pokes at a dumpling. The sharp tines release a small plume of steam.

She uses the side to cut into the tender shell of the dumpling. She blows over a small morsel before tasting it. Her delight is plain as she chews slowly, savouring the taste. As he watches, he recalls his own frigid food.

He lets the notebook close on its own. He leaves it by his elbow, setting the pencil down to roll against its spine. He pulls his plate close, twirling a knot of noodles around his fork. He takes a bite and peeks over at her. 

He pretends that they sit together, that they’re eating at the same table. In some other world, they would be. This would be a sweet date he surprised her with and she would thank him with a smile. Her real smile, the one she chews on but doesn’t let free.

But this isn’t that world. This is reality and he’s just a stranger. She doesn’t know him. She hasn’t even noticed him sitting right there. He puts the fork down and sits back. His appetite curdles to hot bile. 

The loneliness is what he hates the most about this new world. The people around him move too fast, they’re all lost in themselves, they’re looking with seeing, talking without listening. It’s like they don’t even speak the same language.

He asks Mrs. Zhao for a to-go box. Another pile of leftovers to go with the rest. It’s habit. He hates to see a meal go wasted. He remembers the days of mustard sandwiches, when his mother scraped every grain of flour to make a loaf. Nearly a century. A hundred years lost, a life stolen. From him.

He packs up the noodles and the saucy chicken and snaps the lid shut. He doesn’t leave yet. She’s still eating. Just as deliberately as before. Her careful bites are self-conscious as she dabs a napkin to her lips now and again. She doesn’t finish hers either.

She accepts a box and a fresh set of chopsticks to take with her. She slides the remnants of her meal into the container and closes it, fingers squeezing the edges as she checks to make certain it’s secure. She doesn’t leave either. She lingers as she resumes her reading, just a few pages before she finishes the chapter.

She counts out a tip on the table top and stacks it by her empty plate. He tilts his head. She’s a creature out of time. Sort of like him. He always sees the plastic swiping or the tap of a watch that has the machine chirping. She’s old-fashioned, he likes that.

She uses the table to leverage herself to her feet. Her hips are slightly crooked as she stands and pulls on her light baby blue jacket. It’s long and belted at the waist but she leaves it open. She slips her book into her canvas bag and hangs it over her shoulder. She cradles the container in her arm, leaning on the chair before she takes her first step.

He noted that before. One leg seems longer than the other as she limps across the quiet restaurant. She doesn’t seem bothered by her uneven gait, she simply goes on. She stops by the door and looks at the little figurine; a smiling cat waving an arm.

He puts his head down and listens to her departure. He looks down at his gloves hands, turning over his left as a glint of metal peeks out below the sleeve. Someone like him can be fixed but she’s there, with her small steps, forgotten.

He gets up so quickly, he hits his leg on the table. He hurriedly gathers up his sketchbook and clutches it against his leftovers. He waves to Mrs. Zhao as he marches out but can’t untangle his voice from his chest. He doesn’t want to lose her. He can’t lose another thing.

In the street, he catches sight of her blue coat. She’s not very quick as it is. He can easily keep up but he doesn’t want to meet her pace. She can’t see him. Not yet.

He rounds the corner nearly a block back from her. He pauses to feign interest in a window as she clutches her hip and slows. She stops not much further down as a bearded man sits against the brick with a cup jingling in his hand. She speaks so quietly, even the man on the pavement has to lean in. If it wasn’t for the laboratory torture, Bucky wouldn’t hear her either.

She’s sorry that she spent all her change but he can have the food. At first, the man’s face twists, he doesn’t seem happy with that. Then he accepts as if he can’t bear to deny her. Who could?

“Thanks, lady,” the man sounds like a buzzard.

She nods and wishes him a good day, as good as it can be, she adds. Then she’s off again.  

As Bucky trails her, he’s reminded of someone else. Of someone who once needed him. His protection and care. Just another person who abandoned him. The one person who could’ve understood him. Gone, just like everything else.

He tucks his chin down, eyes narrowing on the woman. Target acquired. He shakes off that thought, that worrying echo of the past. He’s not the machine they made him. He’s still a man. Alone and broken, just like they left him.

Like her.

Her

Just along the crooked and cracked walk, behind the overgrown bush, there lays the peeling door behind the creaky metal grate. It’s a grim scene but sometimes you pretend it’s a hidden entrance and that you’re unlocking the passage to some fantastical world. You twist the key, wiggling it before it catches, and you pull as hard as you can.

The wrought iron is heavy and one of the bars juts out enough to catch your sleeve. You use your shoulder to hold the outer door open as you unlock the second. You stumble inside, your hip achy and overworked. You close both doors tight, cranking the deadbolts back into place.

The rain will come soon. It’s why you wore your jacket. You expected it to come earlier but you’re glad it didn’t. The change in pressure always wracks your bones.

You hang the baby blue coat as you put your canvas bag on the worn wicker seat of the chair beside the door. The apartment is small but it’s all yours. The single room is a kitchen, bedroom, and everything else but the bathroom. That is barely more than a closet.

There’s a thump from above. Several as the neighbours’ toddler barrels around. You should’ve waited until after nap time to leave.

You leave your boots on the woven mat and fish out the novel from your bag. You limp across to the folding couch, still a bed as you hadn’t bothered to roll away the flimsy mattress. You lower yourself onto it, pulling a pillow behind you as you recline.

Your pelvis is sore. The chair in the restaurant wasn’t very comfortable, though the food was good for the cost. You don’t eat out very often. Not really at all but it’s your birthday and you wanted to do something special.

You open the pages and quickly dive back into another life. A world where magic can weave miracles but tempts a dangerous darkness in its use. No good thing comes without a price.

You slump down as you read. The sunlight slowly fades as the clouds shift and the din deepens. You close the book as you look across the room at the floor lamp. The small distance across the room seems akin to Tolkien’s infamous trek. You don’t want to get up, you just want to sleep in the damp afternoon.

You sigh and put the book beside you. You rub your eyes and forehead and bend one leg, then the other. Your muscles are taut and protest with a dull burn. You can’t read in the dark, you’ll get another headache.

You groan and push yourself to sit on the edge of the mattress. The slender frame echoes you sharply as you stand. Your right foot comes down heavier than the left as you cross the space. You flick on the light and flinch as a storm cloud seems to pass over your very window.

You turn to face the gap between the curtains. How strange. You near the pane as rain speckles on the outside. You peer up at the slat of sky visible between the rooftops. 

You twitch again as you hear something mulch. You whip your head to the side as you look towards the bush. It could be a critter hiding in the bin, no time to find their nest as the storm rises.

You back away, puffing out your fright. Living alone makes you paranoid, even if you prefer it. You live by your own rules, your own schedule, your own whims. The problem is, you’re finding it difficult to figure all those out. You don’t know what you want.

You sit again and rub your lower back. The only thing you can name, you can’t have. The pain is your eternal companion. The looks you get when you venture out are just as persistent. You felt those curious, somewhat dejecting, glances today. You don’t care if they think you walk a bit oddly, you just don’t like to be looked at.

You turn your head to gaze longingly at the kettle. It’s the perfect weather for tea and you forgot to get a cup of green at the restaurant. Yet, it’s a very far way to go, then back again to wait for the water to steam.

You relent. You stand up and go to the small counter set into the wall. You flip on the electric kettle and lean on the chipped laminate. The toddler’s footsteps rumble like thunder overhead and the shadows once more stir behind you.

You turn to face the apartment, hands curled around the counter’s edge. The steady drip of the eaves form a tempo as the rain spatters harder against the window, rattling it in the wooden frame. The doors quiver too as the tempest blows into the alley.

You used to like rainstorms, before they made you hurt so much. Before they seemed so dark. You used to like a lot of things before you were broken. Those days seem very far behind you. Sometimes, you wonder if they ever were.

[goblinontour]

Subtle Indications

a journey in good company

part 1 | series masterlist

warnings: prof!al, age gap (not specified), smut, oral (m/f receiving), unprotected sex

word count: 6.6k

“Yes?” you said as you finally snapped out of the little bubble of thoughts that made you ignore the first three times he called your name.

You thought you recognised his voice, but you weren’t quite sure, after all, you never really expected to see your professors outside in the ‘real world’, per se, as weird as that might sound. It was as if that invisible barrier broke and those two realities collided the moment you looked up and your eyes met his.

It was, of course, none other than…Mr. Turner…your favourite.

“I got the seat, uhm, there” he said, pointing at the empty window seat next to you.

“Oh! Yeah, yeah.” you scrambled to move your bag from his place and almost started to get up to make space for him to walk through, but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry, I’ll just squeeze through.” he told you as he saw you getting nervous, giving you a slight smile, just to be polite, you thought.

He looked a bit…dishevelled. His hair messy and pointing in all different directions, his eyes tired. He must’ve just woken up and come straight to the train station. He almost missed it too, getting on just as the train was about to leave.

Speaking of leaving, right as he was moving through the small space between, well, you, and the table separating the seats opposite, the train started moving, and he lost his balance, nearly falling on top of you if it weren’t for the handle of your seat that he managed to grab just in time.

“Sorry” he murmured as he regained his composure and finally sat down next to you, fixing his brown leather bag neatly on the table by the window.

You smiled at him, though he didn’t seem to notice, because as soon as he sat that bag down he scrambled to bring it back to his lap, searching for something he couldn’t seem to find. You tried not to pry too much into the contents, instead bringing your focus back to the book in your hand you only now noticed you were holding way too tight, the pages almost breaking where your fingers were holding it open so you wouldn’t lose the spot where you left off before he showed up.

You couldn’t help yourself from glancing at him. It turned out he was looking for his sunglasses, slipping them on despite no sunshine seeping through the window that would warrant the need for them.

You continued to read, thinking he probably doesn’t want to be bothered by a random student in his free time, but the words you kept reading over and over wouldn’t register in your brain, your mind just being filled by thoughts of him. Where was he going? You stole another glance, noticing the way his gaze drifted out the window, lost in thought. What could he possibly be thinking about? Curiosity tugged at you, wondering what might be occupying his mind so deeply. Was it the weight of his responsibilities as a professor, or perhaps something more personal? You found yourself yearning to unravel everything about him.

Some time passed, he didn’t get off at any of the stops in the city, so he was going away too, just like you. Though he had nothing else but his usual bag he also brought to class every day? Questions kept going through your mind, questions that will probably never get answered, so you pushed them away and really tried to focus on your reading, not that it was anything important…quite the opposite.

“Whatcha readin’?” he asked out of the blue and only then you noticed he was looking straight at the book in your hands. Embarrassment filled your body as you realised he could clearly see the pages from the small distance between you, considering that the contents weren’t particularly…appropriate. To say the least, you definitely wouldn’t have wanted him to see, and if you weren’t so daft you would have realised that just because he had his shades blocking you from seeing his eyes, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t see either.

“Nothing.” you said as you slammed the book closed, making this way bigger of a deal than it should have been. He wouldn’t invade your privacy and read that, he was probably just trying to be polite, you thought, again. And you just embarrassed yourself by acting like a little girl getting caught by her parents doing something she shouldn’t be doing. “It's just a- it’s a dumb thing.” you continued, face flushed as you got the courage to look up. You weren’t expecting to be met by his eyes staring straight at you, his glasses now perched perfectly on the top of his head, looking effortlessly cool.

“No, it’s not.” he quickly muttered “I liked it.” he said, almost in a whisper, like he was hiding his own embarrassment of reading while you were not aware.

Your heart skipped a beat at his unexpected admission. His words hung in the air, filling the space between you with a charged tension. You couldn't help but feel a rush of warmth spreading through you, mingled with a hint of fluster. Mr. Turner, the Mr. Turner, your professor whose lectures you hung onto with fervour, actually enjoyed the book-thing, whatever, you were reading, a book you probably shouldn’t have been reading in public in the first place, all things considered.

His confession felt like the bridge you were currently passing, connecting the gap between you, somehow starting to blur the boundaries of student and teacher, revealing the shared raw human need beneath. You couldn't resist the urge to smile, the blush spreading over your entire face.

"I didn't expect you to...I mean, I'm glad you liked it." you replied, your voice coming out soft, yet slightly trembling, urging you to clear your throat as you tried to regain your composure.

His own smile mirrored yours, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke volumes. “You can go on…if you’d like…of course.”

Your heart raced at his invitation to continue reading. With a shy nod, you opened the book once more, the words on the page suddenly feeling more significant than before. As you kept reading, you couldn't shake the feeling of his presence beside you, his quiet breathing and occasional rustle of papers adding to the intensity of the moment.

You were surprised when Mr. Turner spoke again, his voice breaking the tense silence like a gentle wave on the shore. "Would you mind if…" he said quietly, his tone soft, implying with a gesture of his hands that he wished to read along with you.

Once again settling in silence, your ability to form words completely gone in that moment, you brought the book closer to him, almost invading his half of the seats, but not quite. He knew you’d finished the page you were currently on, so you watched as he licked the tips of his fingers, his tongue just peeking out from behind his pink lips, and with his smooth digits he picked up the corner of the page, flipping it over to uncover the not yet discovered words lying underneath. A mixture of excitement, nervousness, and a budding sense of connection filled you, that left you yearning for more.

As the journey continued, you found yourself eager to explore more than just the pages of a book with him, but you could never act on those thoughts, you wouldn’t dare.

Luckily, he took that step for you, his arm carefully inching closer to you, and while his eyes were locked on the page in front of him, you could tell he was closely examining you for any tiny reaction that would indicate he should stop.

When his hand reached your own seat, his little finger twitched in his attempt to touch you, the small, almost insignificant contact sending electricity through you, eliciting a soft gasp from your mouth. In that moment, the train rattling along its tracks faded into the background, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of shared understanding…and perhaps…unravelling the mysteries of his mind along the way.

“Keep reading.” he whispered quietly enough that you wouldn’t have even heard it if you weren’t so focused on everything that meant him in that moment.

It’s as if he knew exactly what the next page was going to contain:

“His fingers inadvertently grazed her leg, sending a thrill through both of them. Their eyes met, a fleeting moment of hesitation followed by a silent acknowledgment of the forbidden allure between them.”

Had he read this before? Did he-

“Go on.” he encouraged you, his gaze still on the page, as if looking at you would make what was happening seem too real. He didn’t want to break this trance you found yourselves in.

With your pulse quickening, you continued to read, the words resonating with a startling familiarity that sent shivers down your spine. As if guided by an unseen force, you turned the page, the narrative unfolding with an eerie parallel to the electrifying tension between you and professor Turner.

“With a subtle shift, his hand moved to her panties and he grinned down at her. ‘Prepare yourself.’ he said, gently leaning her back until he was on top of her. ‘Do your worst.’ she replied, spreading her legs for him.”

Your body was working against your better judgement, following the words written on the page exactly, your legs spreading involuntarily, allowing his hand to slip between your thighs, his fingers moving with more intent now as they ever so slightly grazed your thin panties from under your skirt, your half gasp of shock, half moan of immense pleasure, caused mostly by the tension, getting stuck in your throat, your mouth opening without any sound coming out. It was barely noticeable, to anyone else, all others too busy on their own daydreams or troubles. Not that you would have noticed if anyone saw you anyway.

“Don’t stop, keep going.” he pushed, but you were stuck. You could no longer move, or focus your eyes enough on the small letters that once seemed legible, but no longer. He noticed your sort of distress, or more so just an overall startled demeanour, and he looked at you, he finally looked at you, still in silence as you stared at him and through him at the same time.

“Are you alright?” he asked. His eyes never left yours, not until he’d get his answer. His gaze held a mixture of apprehension and longing, mirroring the emotions swirling within you.

You nodded, your nerves slowly dissipating and allowing you to think for a second.

“Talk to me…please.” he pleaded, the uncertainty clear in his eyes. Did he go too far? He shouldn’t have started this it was too much, he-

“Yeah…yeah I- yes.” you choked on your words, the sounds coming out as a breathy whisper.

“Yes?” he asked again, wanting to hear a clear response from you, to make sure he wasn’t crossing any boundaries you didn’t feel comfortable with, though you were way past that.

From the moment he saw you as he entered the train his mind was already set on this burning desire that somehow didn’t register to himself until then, when he saw your crossed legs as you were engulfed in your own world, your naked thighs sticking to the leather on the seat where your maybe too short skirt wasn’t covering them.

“Yes.” you spoke again, looking straight into his eyes and giving him the confirmation he needed to continue.

He moved closer to you, your shoulders touching as his hand between your thighs kept almost petting you over your underwear. He nuzzled his head into your neck, making you gasp as you felt his breath tickling your skin as he inhaled your scent.

“Keep reading.” he implored, his lips grazing your throat and he swore he could feel your pulse against his mouth from how fast your heart was beating.

The air crackled with anticipation as the fictional characters navigated their forbidden desires, their clandestine encounters echoing the unspoken truth that lingered between you and Alexander. God- no. You couldn’t think about him like that, he’s always strictly been just Mr. Turner, to everyone, but it felt too indecent to think of him being your professor in that moment, or perhaps that was the best part of it.

With each word, the boundary between fiction and reality blurred, drawing you both deeper into a realm where secrets were laid bare and desires dared to be fulfilled.

His hand didn’t dare stop its exploration there. As the action on the pages got more and more obscene, so did his touches, the tips of his fingers rubbing with clear intent on your covered cunt, the cotton sticking to your folds as he kept pushing deeper, spreading your wetness through the material.

“How much longer?” he asked, his lips rubbing against your skin with each movement of his mouth as he got those words out, each sound vibrating through you.

“What?” you asked confused, while still trying to keep your voice as calm and collected as possible, given the situation you found yourself in.

“Until we arrive. How much?” he clarified.

“Oh- uhm” you glanced at the screen at the end of the coach, which said it would be about 45 minutes, excluding any possible delays. “45 minutes…sir.”

“Good…” he replied, pulling away from you and settling back completely in his own seat. You didn’t even notice just how close he got, you were practically sharing one seat. “I’ll go in there.” he continued as he was neatly putting away his sunglasses again, this time in the front pocket of his bag, so he wouldn’t lose them again in the mess. He discreetly pointed towards the part of the train where the toilets were, so you’d know exactly what he meant, without having to spell it out.

He got up from his seat and said “I’ll be waiting for you”, avoiding your gaze, embarrassed by his own actions and lack of reason. He shouldn’t be doing this.

Before passing past you he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Don’t feel pressured to come…if…if you don’t want this.” were his last words before clearing his throat and quickly slipping out of the tight space, heading right where he said he would go.

Your mind reeled as Mr. Turner's touch lingered on your skin, igniting a fire within you that you couldn't extinguish. His words, spoken with a mixture of desire and restraint, hung in the air, leaving you breathless and uncertain of what to do next. Was this really happening? This must’ve been the most surreal dream of all time, right? But it wasn’t, you were most definitely awake, the train was moving, the people around were real, this was real.

As he retreated to the train's restroom, you were left alone with your thoughts, grappling with the intensity of the moment and the implications of his actions. The train's rhythmic motion seemed to echo the turmoil in your mind, each click-clack of the tracks a reminder of the forbidden desire that simmered between you and your professor.

Minutes stretched into eternity as you wrestled with your inner turmoil, torn between the allure of indulging in this forbidden thirst and the fear of crossing a line you couldn't uncross. But amidst the chaos of your thoughts, one thing remained clear: the pull of Mr. Turner's presence was undeniable, drawing you towards him with an irresistible force.

With trembling hands and a racing heart, you made your decision. As you rose from your seat and made your way down the narrow aisle of the train, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were stepping into uncharted territory, into a realm where the rules of academia and propriety no longer applied, and only the primal desires of two souls intertwined in a forbidden dance mattered.

And as you reached the door of the restroom, you took a deep breath, summoning the courage to push it open and step into the unknown, ready to surrender to the irresistible pull of passion that had drawn you together.

When you finally opened it, you noticed his hand on the knob on the other side. He was about to leave, the hope he had of you turning up almost ran out, but you showed up, and he looked down at you in a way that made you feel like there was something intriguing about the vulnerability he displayed in that moment.

“You’re here.” he gleamed, looking relieved to see you in front of him. He stayed like that, staring in disbelief for a moment, while you stood awkwardly outside the small ‘room’, not knowing what to do, how to act, what to say.

He walked back, as much as the tiny space allowed, an invitation for you to join. Inside the restroom, the air felt charged with anticipation, every breath heavy with the weight of the moment. Mr. Turner stood near the sink, his gaze fixed on you as you entered, a fusion of the undeniable desire and uncertainty flickering in his eyes.

Without a word, you closed the door behind you, the click of the latch sealing your fate. The space suddenly felt smaller, more intimate, as if the world outside had faded away, leaving only the two of you in this delicate sanctuary, a newfound sense of intimacy blossoming between you and Mr. Turner.

Mr. Turner's hand awkwardly reached out, hesitating for a moment before brushing against yours, his touch sending shivers down your spine.

With a silent understanding, you leaned into him, the heat of his body mingling with yours as you pressed together, lost in the intoxicating embrace of desire.

His lips found yours in a hungry kiss, a fervent expression of the need that had been building between you since that first look as he got on the train. Actually, if you were being honest with yourself, you’d admit you fantasised about him every time you sat in his class, from the moment he walked in through the door.

His tongue prodded at your mouth, and you allowed it entrance to meet your own, the energy between you changing from just hunger to proper filth. It wasn’t pretty, you were too eager, he was too needy, it was messy, but that did nothing but reel you in further, never wanting to get rid of his taste from your tongue, so sweet.

He could no longer keep his hands to himself, his palms moving to grab at you anywhere he could, wanting to touch everything, from your shoulders to your waist, your hips, each touch, each caress sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, igniting a fire that burned with an intensity you had never known.

In that moment, there were no boundaries remaining, no rules to hold you back, only the raw, unbridled passion that consumed you both.

And as the train hurtled toward its destination, you surrendered yourself to the irresistible pull of desire, knowing that in each other's arms, you had found something worth risking everything for.

Lost in the throes of passion, you revelled in the sensation of his hands exploring every inch of your body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. The air crackled with electricity, the heat between you rising with each passing moment.

In the hazy blur of desire, you surrendered yourself completely to the intoxicating allure of Mr. Turner. His lips trailed a path of fire along your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake as they travelled from your mouth to your jaw, nipping along it with his teeth, eager to taste more than just your mouth. Each kiss fueled the flames of desire that burned within you, consuming you in a whirlwind of ecstasy.

He snaked his hands around the smallest point of your waist, pulling you flush to him, keeping you as close as your bodies would permit. As you crossed your legs in need of some sort of relief, settling for anything you could get, you nudged along his crotch, sparking a groan from him. He was getting impossibly hard, you could feel it through his trousers, and your sudden touch took him by surprise, the pleasure from that one second of stimulation making him realise just how much he had to have this, to have you.

A burst of boldness came to you, urging you to get on your knees for him. And so you did. For a second his arms didn’t want to let you go but he soon realised what you were doing and he shuffled back, his arms on the edge of the sink grounding him, preventing him from simply melting to the floor, though that’s what he felt like.

Before lowering completely, you had to touch him, he touched and groped but now it was your turn, your hands sliding down the cashmere of his sweater, from his shoulders to his chest, which, when you reached, you felt the rapid beat of his heart beneath your palms, a rhythm that matched the pounding of your own. You stopped there to give some attention to his nipples, incredibly hard, poking from underneath the soft thin material. He gasped at the feeling of your fingers running over them, his mouth agape and his chest rising with each breath he took. His gasp was music to your ears. Fuck, he was so responsive.

As you knelt before him, a rush of anticipation coursed through you, fueled by the knowledge that you held his desire in the palm of your hand. His eyes met yours, a mixture of surprise and longing evident in their depths as he watched you with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

Your hands traced a path down his body, every touch igniting a fire within both of you. His skin burned beneath your fingertips, even through the barrier of fabric, that you couldn’t stand any longer. You reached the edge of his top, your fingertips carefully prying beneath it until they reached his naked skin, so soft, the tiny hairs covering his abdomen rising at the contact, sending shivers through his entire body.

His growing bulge was screaming for you to touch it and it was something you couldn’t wait for, you wanted him in your mouth so badly. Beginning to unbuckle his belt, you burrowed your face into the tight material covering his straining erection, mouthing at him through the fabric while keeping your eyes on him, just him, the imagine of him biting his lower lip to suppress any sounds that might’ve dared to come out instantly burned into your memory, forever. His eyes bore into yours, dark with desire and something deeper, something you couldn't quite name but felt as intensely as the heat of his body seeping into you.

With his pants free of the leather that held them up and a sense of urgency that matched his own, you worked quickly to free him from the confines of his clothing, every moment spent tantalisingly close to the prize driving you to new heights of desire. You quickly worked the button and zipper that still stood in your way, finally beginning to lower them, having a bit of a struggle as the whole thing got too tight, they didn’t seem to want to slip over his bulge, but you managed, in the end.

As his pants finally yielded to your efforts, you were greeted by the sight of him, hard and ready, straining against the fabric of his boxers. The need in his eyes mirrored your own, a hunger that threatened to consume you both.

With a sense of reverence, you reached for him, your hands trembling with anticipation as you traced the outline of his erection through the thin material. His sharp intake of breath was a symphony of lust and craving, echoing through the air as you finally freed him from all the constraints keeping you apart. His cock sprung up hitting his covered tummy, the blush on his face mimicking the one of his tip, red and leaking on his top, staining the dark crimson an even deeper shade.

And then, with a daring born of passion, you lowered your head, your lips trailing a path of fire along his length as you kissed the underside, following with a lick all the way from the base to the head, more little licks and open-mouthed kisses to it. He started getting frustrated, wanting so much more. But Alex hated begging, feeling too embarrassed to do so, unless he got desperate enough. And he did. He got over himself and begged you.

“More please, sweetheart.” he asked of you. How could you possibly deny him?

With his hungry eyes raking over you, and one of his hands coming to rest on your head in encouragement, petting your hair, you took him into your mouth and he revelled in the feeling of the tender skin of your throat, the pleasurable sensation of the tight, wet heat his dick was enveloped in.

“Oh fuck…” Alex groaned “been dreaming of this, of- of you, when I–” his sentence getting cut off by a moan as his hips bucking involuntarily, pushing his cock deeper inside, his tip brushing against the back of your throat.

He caught you off guard, making you choke and splutter around his dick, pulling off with a wet pop to catch your breath, leaving his length glistening wet with your saliva. You continued stroking him with your hand, thumbing at the precum leaking from his slit and spreading it around, mixing it with your own fluids that tainted him.

“When you…what?” you probed curiously, wanting to hear him say it.

“When I touch myself.” he admitted “You have no idea how many times I’ve jerked off to the thought of you…on your knees…or bent over my desk.” he went on to say, trailing off into a whisper at the end, continuing his pets on the side of your head as you took him into your mouth again.

His words took a second to register to you, and you moaned pathetically around his cock, your pussy practically dripping with need from thinking of him touching himself with you in his mind. He groaned in response, feeling the vibration of your moan as it slipped from between your parted lips.

You bobbed your head up and down a couple more times before he pulled you off this time.

“Stop.” he breathed out as he was holding you gently by the hair so you wouldn’t be able to reach and touch him anymore.

“What’s wrong, did I- did I do something?” you asked, the worry and slight panic thick in your voice.

“No, no, it’s…I just need a break or I’ll come in your mouth…and I wanna be…inside…of you, sweets.” he panted. Clearly you got him quite close already, and he didn’t want this to end so soon.

He spread his arms out for you to grab and he brought you closer again, taking up your mouth with his own again. He moaned into you as he tasted himself on your tongue, and his hands around your waist were sliding dangerously low, past the curve of your ass, slowly skimming the hem of your skirt until they slipped under it, playing with the edges of your panties.

“Wanna taste you too.” he hummed against your lips “Can I? W-will you let me, please?”

“Yes, of course you fucking can…oh my god. Yes!” you said too quickly, too eager to feel him for you to hide your excitement anymore. You couldn't help but notice how Mr. Turner smiled into the kiss, giving you one last peck before turning you around, at which you automatically bent over the small sink as much as you could, arching your back to look your best for him.

He bent down behind you and you watched over your shoulder as he curiously pulled your skirt up and bunched it up as far as it would go, his eyes full of sparks as he was taking in the view before him. His hand splayed out across his lower back, tracing along the middle of your spine until he was stopped in his tracks by the lace border that adorned your underwear.

With a low growl, Mr. Turner tugged at the lace, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of anticipation through your body. As he slowly peeled the fabric down, your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. You felt exposed yet exhilarated, craving every sensation he was about to unleash upon you. You could feel his lips trailing along the curve of your spine, leaving a path of hot kisses in their wake. Every nerve in your body seemed to come alive under his ministrations,

"Do you know how much I've been wanting to taste you?" he whispered. His words sent a rush of heat straight to your core, making you ache for his touch even more and you couldn't help but let out a soft moan of pleasure.

He leaned into you, his warm breath teasing your skin. Time seemed to stand still as he explored every inch of you, his touch setting your body ablaze with desire. And as his lips finally found their way to where you needed him most, Mr. Turner's hands gripped your hips firmly as he moved closer, his tongue darting out to taste you.

The sensation was overwhelming, sending sparks flying behind your closed eyelids as you surrendered yourself to him completely.

He hummed against you with curious little licks that made your breath hitch in your throat. His facial hair tickled as it brushed along your folds and his tongue traced intricate patterns across your sensitive flesh, moving playfully around in little circles, feeling you out, igniting a fire that consumed your every thought. It was exquisite, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. You couldn't help but arch your back further, pressing yourself against him as well as the coldness of the sink as he continued his exploration with a newfound sense of boldness, licking a strip from your clit, gathering the wetness pooling, all the way to your hole.

His movements became more fervent, more urgent, as if he couldn't get enough of you. And as you felt yourself teetering on the edge of bliss, you couldn't help but cling desperately to whatever you could reach that would help keep your balance, your fingers digging around the metal tap and you found yourself gasping for air as ecstasy washed over you in waves.

Each flick of his tongue along with the vibrations flowing through you from his moaning as he was eating you out brought you closer to your release, faster than you would’ve anticipated. Perhaps it was the thrill of it all, the unexpected nature of what was happening, the fact that you probably shouldn’t be doing this, much less here.

You finally succumbed to the overwhelming sensations crashing over you, and he kept his movements as you rode the waves of pleasure, licking away at the fluids seeping from you.

When he considered it enough, his lips parted from your core and you looked back at him over your shoulder, again, greeted with the sight of him seeming a bit out of sorts, his nose red from the friction, and his lips and chin glistening from your wetness and cum, little droplets hanging onto his beard, and the smile forming on your lips was soon replaced by the ‘O’ shape your mouth was just in a few moments ago as you felt him pulling on your pussy with his fingers, the cold air hitting you deeper inside as he opened you up.

“You’re so sweet, I could eat you forever but I need to be inside you now.” he said absentmindedly while wiping down the wet mess from his face with the back of his hand, his eyes still locked on your exposed hole clenching around nothing at his admission.

With a breathless nod, you could only manage a whispered agreement as the anticipation coiled tightly within you. His words hung in the air, charged with desire, as he raised from his knees and positioned himself behind you, his hands exploring every inch of your trembling body.

“Do you have a-“ you began, but he cut you off as he figured what you were about to say, condom.

“No.” he breathed out while rubbing the side of his face into your clothed back, like how a cat would rub against you when begging for attention. “Will that stop you from wanting this?” he further questioned, the answer obvious to both of you. You’d gone too far to stop now.

“No.” you confessed, too entranced by the way you could feel his dick leaking against your arsecheeks where it was softly rubbing into your skin as he couldn’t keep his hips still, unavoidably rutting into you at a slow, almost unnoticeable pace, begging for stimulation after being ignored for too long.

“I’ll be careful…pull out.” he whispered as he finally entered you, his cock slipping in easily without any guidance from the sheer amount of wetness covering you both.

A primal moan escaped your lips, drowning in the overwhelming pleasure of being filled by him and quickly muffled by his hand as to not alert anyone else of your actions. You managed to forget about your surroundings, but he was aware of the trouble this could get both of you into if you were to be caught.

“Shhh.” he murmured into the bunched up fabric his face rested against, his other hand slipping through the tight space to reach your breast, moving your top to the side delicately to grab a hold of one of your breasts, his big hand engulfing it, the roughness of his palm feeling like heaven as it scratched your stiff sensitive nipple.

Despite the risk, you couldn't bring yourself to care, consumed by the overwhelming need for him.

He slowly started moving inside of you, gliding out almost all the way before roughly pushing back in. Picking up a sort of rhythm, although irregular and messy, each of his thrusts sent waves of ecstasy through your body, erasing any lingering doubts or worries you might’ve had about this.

It was hot and wet, fucking filthy and absolutely glorious, the indescribably lewd sounds of him fucking into you leaving you to only feel the sensation of his body pressed against yours, the world around fading into a blur, nothing else mattered but the overwhelming need to be consumed by each other, to savour this.

You started moving against him, pushing your hips back to meet every thrust of his. He could feel you mouthing something under his palm, allowing you to speak by instead dropping his hand to the edge of the small counter the sink lied on.

“Need your- ah-…fingers…on my- fuck-“ you couldn’t even form a proper sentence, getting cut off by a gasp or moan in between your words as he kept thrusting deep inside you, hitting all the right spots.

“Yeah, I got you.” he instantly complied to your wishes, quickly bringing his hand in between your legs to toy messily with your clit, quite constricted by the tight space, nevertheless accomplishing giving you the pleasure you craved. “Try to stay quiet though love.” he urged you.

You weren’t confident in your ability to do that, so you covered your mouth with one of your own hands, momentarily losing your balance as your legs started to give in and fail at keeping you up, but he had you. He moved his other arm around your waist to your belly, holding you flush against him, holding you close, safe, in his grip, supporting you as your legs threatened to give way, ensuring you remained upright against him.

He resorted to mostly grinding his hips into you, the position not really allowing much room to move freely, but still every sensation was heightened, every touch electric, as you lost yourselves in the rhythm of your bodies moving as one.

His fingers worked tirelessly on your clit, sending sparks of pleasure shooting throughout your body with each touch. You bit down on your hand to stifle your cries, your senses overwhelmed with each grind of his hips. You felt yourself teetering on the edge of bliss, clenching around him repeatedly as your second orgasm was threatening to wash over you.

“Don’t do that- I- fuck-“ his hips faltered, and you were holding onto him dangerously tight, he couldn’t escape your grip.

With a couple last deep thrusts, you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you, twitching against your tightening walls as his release spilled out, filling you up and coating his length as he kept grinding even deeper, the feeling sending you over the edge as you too soon came, for the second time.

The way you squeezed his cock made him bite your shoulder, his teeth grinding into the fabric covering you in an attempt to quiet down his cries from the overstimulation.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, he collapsed against you, breathless and spent. His heart was about to pound straight out of his chest. This was too much, too intimate.

He stayed like that for a minute, his cock softening inside of you as the seconds passed, before pulling out, his cum immediately starting to run out of you.

He quickly tucked himself back into his boxers and grabbed some tissues to clean you up.

“I’m sorry.” he said, sincerity and shame felt in his voice, and your mind went to thinking he meant he was sorry for doing this, that he regretted it, but he reassured you, feeling you tense as his hands gently rubbed your thighs and pulled your underwear back on. “About not pulling out, I didn’t mean to, it was just- I-“

“It’s okay.” you told him, pulling your skirt back down over your ass and turning around to see him panicking. “I can take care of it, don’t worry.” you said, reserved. You didn’t know how you two stood, if he would want you to forget this ever happened.

“No, no, no, no, you- I’ll help you…get you…what you need…yeah.”

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as you nuzzled into his chest, basking in the afterglow of your shared ecstasy. In the hazy aftermath, the world outside ceased to exist, and all that mattered was the warmth of each other's embrace, the exchanged tender kisses, savouring the closeness, until you were reminded of your surroundings by the train stopping harshly in its tracks.

“Fuck, I need to get my stuff.” you huffed, annoyed at the moment having to come to an end.

“I’ll get them, you stay in here…calm down darling.” he spoke sweetly, fixing your top back to its original position and buttoning up his trousers before he emerged from the restroom, leaving you alone in your thoughts.

Fuck.

That was the only thing coming to mind when you turned back around to look at yourself in the mirror, your hair pointing awkwardly in all directions from where his hands got tangled in it.

At the same time, you couldn’t stop the smile that began forming on your lips.

a/n: this was all caused by the recents, if it wasn’t obvious enough, and i kinda fell back in love with the version Mr. Turner is made up in my head. i hope this makes sense, i had someone proofread alongside my own go at it but if there are any bits that sound wrong or typos let me know

tags: @4chaos @st7rnioioss @theonlyoneswhoknowsblog @ohladymoon @rentsturner @yourstartreatment @menace-to-the-devil @jqsvi @turnersfav @youresodarkbabe @psychedelicrocker @feyasgotgroove

[mysticsparklewings]

Obscutober 2024 Prompt List(s)!

Anyone got room for yet another October Prompt List? 😉

I really wasn’t feeling the Official Inktober Prompt List this year & deeply miss the Obscutober lists nikolas_tower used to post over on Instagram, so I decided to break from tradition even more than I usually do & make my own! ✨

The main idea is each prompt is an Obscure Word, but I did get a little choosy & try to put a bit of my own spin on it!

Click the "Keep Reading" and we'll talk more about the details + Definitions if you need them. ✨

⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

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Before I get into my usual long-winded description, if you want to actually follow this prompt list—Or the Lite or Weekly version—here's what you need to know:

Here's the "Official" Definition list so you don't have to spend time looking up the words yourself if you don't want to...But also, if you do want to, feel free! The "official" definitions are intended as a time-saving guideline!

The list is open to all mediums! "Typical" visual art (Digital or Traditional), Literature, Sculpture, Crafts, Coloring Pages—whatever you want!

The word itself does not have to be directly included/related to what you make; You can just take inspiration from the way it sounds or looks, or something the sticks out to you in the definition, etc.

If a word or two doesn't work for you for various reasons, feel free to swap-in a different word—Either another "obscure" word of your choosing, or a word from another prompt list that you like better.

I've provided "Lite" and Weekly versions of the list in case the full 31 is too much, but you can pick-and-choose words from the full list however you'd like if you're not crazy about the words I picked for the shorter versions, or if you want to shorten the list in a different way.

Tagging me is appreciated, but not required!

Remember that my views on these Month-Long Daily Challenges is that it's about the challenge of completing a certain amount of creative pieces in the time given...And that's pretty much it, so as long as you're doing that and having fun, I'm really not bothered about how you choose to follow the list! My Inktober motto has always been "work smarter, not harder," and this is no different!

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Well, well, Sparklers—I assume this is quite the surprise coming from me. 🤭 Both because I've been awfully quiet over the past couple of months and this is what I come back with. [And for the record, I intend to explain more about where exactly I've been in a Museletter, but I wasn't able to get it typed up and ready-to-go today; Once I get it ready I'll add the link here.]

Not that me disappearing for a while and coming back with something not necessarily expected of me is all that abnormal, but rather if you've followed me for a while, you might remember I'm not normally super-keen on everyone and their uncle's mother's brother's sister making their own Prompt Lists.

So then, Mystic, what gives? Why make your own Prompt List now?

You can thank nikolas_tower on Instagram for that, actually. 😆 Some of you might also remember that I follow his Obscutober list in October 2021, and I've also swapped in an Obscutober word a couple of times when one of the "official" Inktober words didn't work for me.

I've explained before how much I love the Obscutober concept to its core, so I won't re-hash all of that here. The important part is that I do love it, but to my great sadness, 2022 only got an abbreviated Obscutober list (2 words per week), 2023 didn't get an Obscutober list at all (though I didn't really need one for 2023 because I was busy enough as it was following two other prompt lists at once) and considering just how close we're getting now, I really sincerely doubt Nikolas has/had plans for a 2024 one. Add to that: I was not super jazzed about the official Inktober prompt list for this year. Now, don't get me wrong—I'm normally not thrilled with every single word on the list (and if you've followed my Inktobers' past, you know I say as much during the month!), but I'm not sure I've ever felt quite so unenthusiastic about the whole list before.

Additionally still, some of you might remember I did talk a little bit last year about some...struggles I supposed is the closest word, that I've had with the past couple of Inktobers I've done. And generally, I've had some ideas for really shaking up the way I handle October for the past couple of years.

While, granted, my main "shake-up" idea is totally unrelated even to this list and I never seem to be able to get the necessary prep work it would require done in time, I think the main takeaway is a I've had a low-grade yearning to do something different...but I do still want to stick to my "tradition" of handling Inktober unconventionally.

So in the end, it kinda just made sense to at least try making my own Obscutober-style list this year. It's something different and I've missed the Obscutober lists, so why not?

Worth noting that I did try to put just a little of my own spin on it in my choice of words. While already I did try to stay away from words Nikolas already used for all 4 of his Obscutobers, I also had a couple of "rules" with the words I picked:

No words that are "Obscure" purely because they're not English/aren't found in English dictionaries. For example, "Lunette" is a French word, but it appears in English dictionaries with a definition that's more than just "the French word for..."

The word must have a definition that's relatively easy to find and/or appears in well-established English Dictionaries like Dictionary.com or Merriam-Webster. This rule exists because I noticed pretty quickly a lot of "aesthetic" definition images on Pinterest either don't turn up any other reliable results that a word even exists, or the word may exist but the Pinterest definition is straight-up wrong.

No overly gross/medical/NSFW words. (This wasn't a problem with any of Nikolas' Obscutober picks, this is just a personal preference that did shape my research a bit.)

One of my problems with the Inktober list for this year is too many words feel like synonyms/too closely related, so I wanted to avoid that. A couple of words are still kind of close in the end, like "Vitrine" and "Hyaline" or "Escutcheon" and "Orphrey, but they're still more different from each other than some words that I considered and ultimately turned down. [For example, I considered "Lambent" and "Clinquant" but decided they were too close in meaning to "Scintillate."]

Likewise, aside from the theme of being Obscure, I tried not to lean to heavily on words that fit a particular theme or idea

I tried not to pick "obscure" words that have become decently well-known or popular because they're obscure. The best example is "Aglet" wasn't even considered because it's been mentioned in multiple TV shows that I know of. "Scintillate" might push that boundary a little, but it is one of my personal favorites.

I also tried to pick words that had a little variety in definition length and not pick too many that had really short definitions, which ties into my next point...

More abstractly, I tried to pick words that feel like they both lend themselves to a really solid image but also leave room for interpretation of that image. Historically I've had problems with Inktober words feeling too much like they really only fit one specific interpretation of the word or they only have so many ways to represent the idea. And on the flip side, some of Nikolas' Obscutober picks (at least when I participated in 2021) felt a little too abstract at times. Ultimately, this feeling is probably highly subjective, but I tried my best to find the right balance anyway.

While not perfectly balanced, I did try not to lean too heavily on one type of word, as in Adjectives/Nouns/Verbs. There are still less verbs overall because it was just harder to find verbs that fit what I wanted, but if I hadn't consciously paid attention there probably would've only been 1-2 verbs and like 20 adjectives.

Not really related to adding "my own spin," but also worth noting that it was also important to me to provide "Lite" and Weekly versions of the list the way that Nikolas did for Obscutober II to make it easier for people that just don't have one-thing-every-single-day kind of time to feel welcome to still participate in some way. As stated in the description for those, you can just jump around the list however you like, but I know sometimes it's just easier if someone already lays things out that way for you instead of having to remember to leave things out and such.

And then for the visual list design, I did a mixture of Nikolas' Obscutober list style and my own more typical branding elements, which ended up working out much better than I expected; I wanted the "spirit" of the list to be recognizable to fans of Nikolas' lists without being an exact copy/looking too much like I was trying to "pretend" to be him or something, and I think I landed in a pretty good place. [And in case anyone is wondering, yes I did use my own template to make the list!]

I do have to admit to you Sparklers though that despite going through all that trouble, I'm actually still not 100% sure I'll be following the list myself. 😅 I've gone back and forth over how exactly I want to handle October at all this year so much...I definitely want to (and intend to!) do a Daily Challenge, especially given how spotty my uploads have been over the last year, but I just can't seem to settle on one full-fledged plan that I'm completely satisfied with.

I do have one potential idea I'm considering that already has a very specific alternate list, but pretty much all of my other ideas would normally use the official Inktober list, and so since that list isn't on the table for me this year, and it's really looking like DeviantArt isn't doing Drawtober again this year—Which I find incredibly sad, by the way!—I need another list on-hand that I know I can use and be reasonably happy with.

And for the record, I'm being intentionally coy about that one specific idea and not sharing that list because it's highly specific and if I do decide to go that route in some way, I'd like the main idea to be a least a little bit of a surprise.

But even if I don't use this list myself, I thought at least a few other people might enjoy giving it a try. After all, I wasn't the only one that enjoyed Nikolas' Obscutobers—I originally found out about them through another person entirely. So maybe a few other people are feeling that Obscutober void, or maybe you're just a big Word Nerd™ like me, or maybe you just want something that's a little different still from a lot of the more typical alternative prompt lists that have been floating around.

So, whatever the case, here the list is (and the Lite and Weekly versions, too); Let us all do with them what we will! 😉

Before I go, I will offer an apology to anyone who's disappointed or frustrated that I'm posting the list so close to time to use it—Believe me, if I'd been 100% sure I wanted to make it in the first place sooner, I would have gotten it out much sooner, too! But I'm doing the best I still can by getting out with this very tiny 2-day cushion instead of just dropping it right on the 1st. If the list turns out to be something you Sparklers want to see again next year, I promise I'll do my best to get it out with a lot more advance notice next time!

With that, there are still two days left in September and as semi-implied already, I still have a ton to do to be anything close to ready for October, so I'll leave you Sparklers to the list and your own October plans, whatever they may be; Hope to see you all again hopefully very, very soon...! 🤗

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List Design  © me, MysticSparklewings

Obscutober Concept Inspired by nikolas_tower

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⭐️ Like My Art and Want to see more of it? Here's All My Links! ⭐️

[indieyuugure]

How long does it take you to create a page and how do you usually go about creating an update? Where do you start?

It depends on the page. Some pages can take as many as 8 hours to complete while others maybe 5? It really has to do with the number of panels and the complexity (generally speaking it takes 1 hour per panel)

I always start by paneling out my page, so drawing all the boarders and designing the way the page flows. Then I add text and rough sketches. Typically “rough sketches” look something like this:

Just something to get down what I want and express the scene (also so I don’t get what I want). This step typically takes about an hour purely because I am indecisive and want everything a certain way.

After that I start going through and finalizing drawings and dialogue to be how I want. The last step is then adding sound effects and speech bubbles (though sometimes I will actually do the speech bubbles before drawing the pretty images depending on my day)

I use Clip Studio Paint which has tools like panel tools (literally like vector graphics that generate boxes that you can adjust and break) as well as bubble tools that help streamline a lot of this.

The page contents are decided by my script in a google doc I have that has every episode written out in advance (usually about 1 chapter ahead of what I’m working on). Occasionally I make edits because I catches inconsistencies in my writing or I get better ideas, but for the most part I follow it pretty closely. Granted it’s pretty vague, but in terms of following event orders and plot progression, it’s pretty close.

It looks something like this:

As you can see, there’s some differences in small details, but for the most part it’s almost the same. (I believe this draft hasn’t been updated to the version in which Shredder doesn’t arrive in New York until chapter 4)

Good question! :]

[mothxmoons]

Wolf pack!

You’re a wolfwalker. Are you a fable? No. Just what more ancient werewolf stories were based off of, only when you’re asleep does your form take that of a wolf until you return to your sleeping body.

An average day of work, you’d say, rather boring actually, not many people coming in today. The only thing keeping you from not falling asleep was the magazine from the desk, nothing much in there either, though you did enjoy people watching. There was something up with this part of town, not in a creepy small town kind of way, no, no. The people here, besides every average Joe you come across, are different. The way they talk is off when they say certain things or how they act with one another. You’ve seen a few fights, a few tumbles, holes and more and seen them walk away fine.

This is also the only part of New York that has a sheriff that isn’t a policeman. Which is strange but you only ever see him when he comes in to buy his cigarettes, which is rare since he buys them in bulk, also weird but his health isn’t your concern.

Another strange thing was how some people talk to him, most will just brush him off or greet him before continuing on their way, but some will be actively rude to him. Not something you would think of doing when he’s their sheriff, but you’ve never said anything.

There was something strange about this part of town…but then again, you were probably just as strange. A wolfwalker in New York, a wolf in the city, typically that would be cause for concern but thanks to wildlife preservation near where you live just outside the city, so you were fine, you had the city and all the comforts of a human and the outdoors with all the comforts for a wolf. Though…unlike a certain someone who would sometimes be around when the sheriff was in the store, you didn’t think these guys were vampires. You weren’t that crazy. Immortals maybe, but in a different way.

Well…it actually really obvious when you think about it, they didn’t even try to hide things. Come on, Snow White. The sheriff’s name being Bigby Wolf, it’s pretty obvious. Not to mention the whole frog you see walking around sometimes. But who were you to judge? You had a secret too, and you didn’t really think about hiding it, not that anyone could catch you and link it to you. Hell, you were wearing a crest from your family that was closely linked to Wolfwalkers but only people who had that kind of obscure knowledge would know.

Then again, maybe you should be careful around these guys, since they are just a bunch of fairy tale characters all together in a single community so they just might have access to that obscure knowledge. Speak of the devil, there’s Sheriff Bigby.

“Hey sheriff, the usual?” You asked, looking up from the magazine you still held, though you were more zoned out than you were actually reading it.

“Hm, yeah. And this coffee pack, of course.” The tired, scruffy man replied with a small shrug, his eyes caught on the magazine to your hands before finally looking up to your eyes. “That’s an odd ring.”

“Oh, yeah, family heirloom.” You shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant about it as you took his items to ring up for him.

“And I’m guessing it's not a very interesting magazine. You were staring at one page when I walked in.” He commented, gesturing with his head, his hands in his pockets. He was really observant, maybe too observant for your own good.

“No. Slow day, got zoned out.” You said, placing his items, coffee and his favorite brand of cigarettes, into a bag for him. From the way you were around everyone so often and didn’t seem to kick up any fuss about seeing strange things, Bigby was sure you knew, and you didn’t know how you knew he knew. But you were sure.

“Hopefully you’ll have a similar day, Bigby.”

“One can only hope.” He sighed as he took the bag with a deep sigh, placing the money on the counter before walking out the door. He seemed more tired than usual, maybe something happened and he had to clean it up. As per usual.

It wasn’t until you fell asleep in your home did you see him again. You didn’t know why, you never usually venture into the city as a wolf, but something just told you to.

With one last look to your sleeping figure, you slipped out of your home, running down the path, panting as you made it to the sidewalks. Maybe it was the confirmation you wanted, to know what these guys were. Whatever the case, you were a wolf running around the city, knocking some people over and startling a few others but no one seemed bothered. Probably too used to seeing strange things happening to really care. Your nose led you to an alleyway, where a certain sheriff was, like you back at home, laying down. He was on the ground though and seemed a little rougher up and groaning slightly.

You tilted your gaze upwards to see where he fell from, a broken glass on the third story seemed to be your answer. You approached him slowly, sniffing at his face, being the usual bother as he started to come to, pushing your face away as he pulled himself up into a sitting position. He blinked, once, twice and then looked quickly over to you, eyes wide as he stared at you. Your ear flickered with a blink from you, taking a moment to see if he was okay. Your head tilted to the side as you looked him over, he seemed okay, though probably shocked from seeing a wolf in the city, leaning forward to sniff at him again.

“Hey there, pup. What are you doing this far into the city?” Bigby asked, groaning as he stood up, dusting himself off. He leaned forward, to look down at you, your gaze following him closely, his hand slowly coming to your head and rubbing your ears. His hand was so slow, almost scared that you would shy away from him, or get scared and run off, but seeing you stay and lean into his hand he had a different idea. “Say, why don’t you be my little helper for the night?”

Your response of course was a bark and your tail wagging which was shaking your whole body.

“Alright, alright, I get it, pup.” He chuckled, leading you out of the alleyway. “I just need to bring a perp in and then do…a lot of paperwork. If you’re alright with being in my company.”

If you could nod you would, but you could only wag your tail, walking close to him.

Bigby couldn’t explain it, but this random wolf in the city could not be a coincidence, sure, strange things happen all the time here, but this was different. He knows that smell, he’s so sure he’s smelled this wolf before, he just couldn’t place it. As he stalked down the sidewalk, looking for the guy he was searching for, his eyes always started back down to the wolf that stuck by his side without a second thought.

Maybe it was because he himself is a wolf that made this wolf feel so comfortable around him. Or maybe something else was going on, this familiar scent that came from the wolf…he knew it. But where?

His eyes drifted up again to see the guy he was chasing down, the other tweedle twin, whichever one it was. Bigby immediately sprang into a run, alerting the twin to start running to, and he could hear his new wolf friend following closely, probably even faster.

“Atta pup!” He called as the wolf overtook his speed and was right on the heels of the tweedle twin, causing a yelp of shock from the very round man.

“I didn’t know a dog needed a dog!” He yelled as he ran, trying to keep his attention split from running away and keeping his ankles away from the wolf.

The man skidded into an alleyway hoping for an easy escape only for the wolf to not stop its speed and leapt off the wall and onto him, tongue hanging out, having its best life, knocking the tweedle twin to the ground.

“Aw…thanks…pup… whhooo.” Bigby breathed heavily, catching his breath as he jogged over to the wolf. The wolf’s tail was wagging with their tongue hanging out of its mouth as they looked up at him, happy and proud.

“Didn’t know you had your own lap dog. Thought you were the lap dog.” The tweedle twin laughed at him, trying to get up from under the wolf accompanying the sheriff for the night.

“Actually, this here is a wolf. And probably not done growing, I think you got lucky.” Bigby said, grabbing the twin by his arms and heaving him up to start the twin’s walk of shame to the office. The wolf happily trotted after him.

Though Bigby never liked having attention on him, when he put the tweedle twin with his brother in a cell, he did find a sense of humor in the faces of the people waiting outside of Snow’s office. Seeing a wolf…following a wolf. Bigby opened up his office door for the wolf, watching it walk in before sitting down himself, sighing heavily as he pulled out his paperwork.

He doesn’t know how long he had been working on his paperwork, but it seemed to go by quicker with the wolf next to him, snoozing away. Sometimes the wolf would look up to him and set their face on his lap when he groaned or sighed at some of the requests and complaints. Which earned a little rub at the ear, but all things must come to an end.

Bigby was planning on letting the wolf stay with him but he didn’t want to pry the wolf away from the forest like he had been so many years ago. So when the time came to go home, he walked the wolf all the way down to the path to the forest. The wolf wagging its tail still, rubbing around in a circle happily, nuzzling his hand once more before bolting off. Bigby waved at the wolf off with a soft, gentle smile, before heading home, scratching at his neck.

The next day, very early in the morning, Bigby felt like eating something fast to get the rest of his work done before having to go out and patrol for any dangers or complaints. So he went down to the small shop he’d buy his coffee and cigarettes from when he smelled that familiar smell from that wolf last night. He followed the scent closely, maybe it was because he hadn’t smoked his cigarette yet so his senses were sharper now, and now he could see why that wolf smelled so familiar.

His nose led him right to the store, with the shopkeeper outside, opening the door. You. You turned, smiling warmly, knowingly and waved at him, just like how he did to the wolf, before walking into the store. A wide smile still on your face as you looked at him through the window, and in turn, a smile crept up on his face as well.

“Well, I guess I have a reason to start talking to them now.” He said to himself, following after you with a soft smile, finally…he wasn’t the only wolf.

[bakuhatsufallinlove]

Clarification regarding MHA’s final chapter being published in a double issue

Weekly Shonen Jump’s annual publishing schedule plans for 52 issues. However, it might confuse you to know that those numbers begin in December, not January. For example, Issue #1 of the 2024 run was actually published in December of 2023, following 2023’s Issue #52 which was published in November.

WSJ also accounts for holiday breaks in this scheduling. Since 2016, they have released at least four “double issues” per year in accordance with Japanese holidays: Christmas, New Years, Golden Week, and Obon Festival, which fall in December, January, April, and August respectively.

As a result, you get back-to-back double issues in late December/early January, then a double issue in the last week of April and the first week of August.

Despite what you might think, double issues do not contain twice the amount of content.

Indeed, they occasionally have a couple extra color pages or two-page spreads than usual, but the main thing that is special about them is the “JUMP cast photo” covers. Weekly covers may highlight 2-3 characters from a couple series, or go for a bigger “splash page” look incorporating different series and more characters.

But double issues, without fail, cram absolutely everybody in there—the protagonist from nearly every series currently running in the magazine gets a spot on the cover, often with each of them matching in theme, as with this Christmas-themed one from the 2019 serialization:

And this year’s own Year of the Dragon New Years cover!

Obon’s double issue tends to have the summer theme, obviously, as we can see here with 2020 and 2022:

I even researched the last few times a series ended in the Obon double issue, and that would be Act-Age in 2020 and Nisekoi in 2016. From some light reading, Nisekoi typically had 16-17 pages per chapter, while the final chapter had 24. Act-Age, on the other hand, pretty consistently had 19-21, and its finale had 20 pages.

I researched how many pages MHA typically has for the Obon issue.

I also researched these numbers for the Golden Week double issue and it was similar, don’t question me, okay, I’m a freak.

These aren't noteworthy numbers; My Hero Academia has always varied between 15-21 pages, ebbing and flowing. Horikoshi said shortly after the Uraraka vs. Toga finale that his editor arranged for each chapter to be 15 pages because that was the number he could consistently complete, since sudden deviation or incomplete pages can cause serious stress to the rest of the publishing staff who have to arrange new chapters from around twenty different series every week.

From this information alone, we have no reason to believe the final chapter of MHA will contain double the typical number of pages.

However, we do have some tankōbon math to do here.

Volume 41 is being released a few days before the final chapter. We don’t have official confirmation, but most of the recent volumes have had 12 chapters and ended on a cliffhanger. In light of this, I suspect volume 41 will cover 411 through chapter 422, thus beginning the final volume, volume 42, on chapter 423.

The longest MHA tankōbon release has been 216 pages long, while the shortest is 184 pages.

We know we will get five more chapters from now, ending on chapter 430.

Every tankoban has at least 4 pages of table of contents and copyright, so the math works out this way:

4 pages + 45 pages with chapters 423, 424, and 425 = 49 pages Longest outcome: 216 – 49 = 167 167 divided into 5 new chapters: 33.40 average pages per chapter Shortest outcome: 184 – 49 = 135 135 divided into 5 new chapters: 27 average pages per chapter

This average is quite shocking to think about and begs the question, “what the fuck is UP, Horikoshi-sensei!?”

The recent trend of 15 pages per chapter for all eight chapters plus the four for table of contents/copyright would yield only 124 pages, which is definitely too few for release. I think there is a strong possibility we will get that upper range of his page count average, 20-21, until the end, which would yield about 154.

I said 184 was the shortest, but technically volume 7 had a unique release with 169 pages plus a drama CD and booklet, which makes me wonder if the final volume might have some sort of special content?? Or possibly volume 41 will end at 421, making it 11 chapters long while volume 42 is 9??

This answers some questions while raising a whole bunch more. I can't wait to find out~!!! <3

Note: I gathered most of the precise numbers-and-dates information referenced in this post—and my Jump GIGA post—from a fan-made Jump Database. Special thanks to the very dedicated people who maintain it.

[sangoqueenkoko]

NEUVILLETTE

"it's not what you think it is"

fluff

HYDRO MASTERLIST | DRABBLE MASTERLIST

Drabble prompt: page 1: #50 = "it's not what you think it is."

Warnings? Nope! At least, I don't think so.

Contains Furina, Charlotte and Neuvillette of course!

757 words.

Well, well, well...

Look what we have here.

(Y/N), one of Fontaine's best lawyers.

The lawyer every caught criminal wishes to have as their defence, but Celestia forbids it if you are on the opposite side. They will certainly go to jail for whatever crime they committed, no matter how good or bad their alibi. If they're guilty, you will easily find that out. And vice versa.

But here you are, in the Iudex's office, standing in front of his desk as he sat with some paperwork of a court case that had just concluded. You were on the prosecutor's side of a robbery where the criminal took every piece of valuables they could hold and ran.

Ahem.

"Great work today, (L/N), as per usual," Neuvillette said approvingly and nodded as he put the current paperwork on the desk before him. Before he stood up and walked over to you with his usual soft eyes and smile.

You looked up at him as he lightly kissed your cheek.

Yes, you read that right.

You and Neuvillette have been secretly seeing each other without anyone noticing, not even Furina. Every 'date' you both go on is something subtle. It could just talking, he loves listening to you talk. He’s a great listener. And you love listening to him talk, his voice is smooth and calming. If you were to go out on a walk through the city or eat together, you would eat in his office where no one would suspect it, rather than in public. If one were to be let into the office simultaneously, one would think it's an important meeting… somehow, that may last a while, considering if you both eat there.

But when no one is there, things are different. Very different.

Neuvillette isn't one for physical affection, but he likes the kisses on the cheek and the back of the hands. And if he's in a good mood, a small kiss on the lips. Maybe. But that depends on both parties: him as well as you.

Aside from that, another case you were working on was significant; it reached all corners of Fontaine via mouth or The Steambird. Charlotte, whom you had gotten to know more about the more you spoke to her about cases and general day-to-day life. But in terms of work, she was due to talk to you and Neuvillette about the now-concluded trail to write in The Steambird, as the rest of Fontaine want to know what the Iudex and Jurist think of the whole ordeal.

But the two of you talked enough to make you friends.

"Not bad yourself, Monsieur" You smiled in return as you stood on your tiptoes to quickly return the light but sweet kiss. He liked it when you called him that. Not because it is a part of his title, because it is, but you just like saying it. As you aren't from Fontaine, you've never really had to say it, but now you can, you think it rolls off the tongue. "I think it's interesting how you, a stoic yet gentle being, can hold such trials like that yet not let your emotions slip."

"Ah, mon amour, but it's all with time past. I have done this for centuries; I have been used to this routine for a while now," he says as he gently lifts your chin to look at him with his index finger. His soft blue moonstone eyes meet your stunning (E/C) ones.

You both got lost in each other's eyes for what felt like an eternity, but it was only for a few short seconds.

The space between you two closed as he then pulled you closer by your waist before pressing his soft lips against yours. Both of you are immersed in the moment~

FLASH. Followed by a short CLICK.

"Monsieur Neuvillette!" the both of you hear towards the door. You two broke away from the moment before looking in that direction. Only to see an utterly shocked and flabbergasted Furina. Charlotte is standing beside her, Kamera in hand. That would be where the flash came from, "Mx. (L/N)! U-Uh-! What is the meaning of this??!"

Good luck trying to get Charlotte to not write about this in The Steambird this week.

"Lady Furina..!" Neuvillette began in a mild panic, his usual calm and collected demeanour slipping as you gently pushed yourselves apart and away from each other. Both your faces are different shades of blush.

"it's not what you think it is."

it’s exactly what you think it is lmao