#except less rewarding when it finally happens

[lovebugdotcom]

I need to be somebody’s friend that’s like a pet to them. Not in a horny way or anything, I just want someone who will bring me around places without expecting me to do much more than say nothing and look around. Someone I can bond with without the need for words. Does this make any sense??

[helluvapoison]

Lend A Helping Hand

Lucifer, Adam, Lute, Vaggie and Husk need help preening

warnings: possible innacurate bird knowledge, heaven headcanons (also probably innacurate) illusions to sexual behavior but it’s not

[ii]

ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ

˚✧₊⁎ Lucifer ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Lilith used help… when she was around. The thought of asking someone else, much less the act itself, scorched him with guilt

• Oh well. Lucifer did it before, Heaven had rules about it, so he can do it again! And of course he did! It doesn’t mean it’s not an excruciatingly long process he puts off as long as he can tolerate

• You walk in on him attempting to strain his arms in ways they certainly shouldn’t bend. “Need some help?”

• “Pfft, who me? No, no, no I—“ He pauses. It’s like the predicament he’s been caught in settles in slowly, his smile dropping and crimson irises widening to rival a puppy’s cuteness. “Yes.” He admits meekly

• Your fingers barely touch his feathers and Lucifer jolts. Like him, his wings are so sensative

• Don’t take it personally when he tries to back out after that, cheeks bright red from embarrassment. He has six wings and can barely tolerate your touch as is. This could take a while, he already feels bad

• After a teaspoon more of convincing and a gallon of reassurance later, Lucifer sits as still as he can (which isn’t very) while you gently break open the pin feathers

• You could tease if you wanted, make a joke to try and settle his nerves but something tells you his wings aren’t the only thing that’s sensitive

• Lucifer appreciates your assistance and tenderness more than words can describe, nothing seems like a big enough gift to reward your hard work

˚✧₊⁎ Adam ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Usually it’s Lute that would help him (and vice versa if he feels like it) but she’s nowhere to be found. He can’t casually ask anyone else. Heaven and its inhabitants can be weird about certain shit, preening is no exception— even though everyone has wings here!

• Walking past Adam’s office, you heard a crash and a lot of swearing. “Sir, are you—?”

“Unless you’re gonna help, fuck right off!” He growls from the ground, still reaching at an awkward angle for his wings

• He’s shocked when you sit on your knees beside him and swat his hand away. “If you make this weird, I will leave.” You warn. He doesn’t dare make even a single comment

• Adam shivers when your fingers glide into his feathers. You wave it off the first time but can’t stop a laugh when it happens again

Face first into the carpet, his loud voice is muffled, “Shut! Up!”

• You take pity on him and don’t drag the process longer than necessary. Awarding yourself a final pet of his oddly soft wings, you stand up, “There. All better?”

• Rising to his feet and giving his wings an experimental stretch, he shrugs nonchalantly, “Thanks. I guess.”

• The next day, you receive a basket from Goody-2-Shoes with various snacks. The card reads, ‘Let me know when I can return the favor. Wings don’t have to be included. ~ A’

˚✧₊⁎ Lute ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• You know she needs help when she’s more irritable than usual. Snapping at everyone, even Adam, and flinching when her wings move in the slightest

• Approaching the subject with her is harder than anyone. As aforementioned it’s unspokenly taboo but that isn’t what stops her. Lute’s deep rooted issues with intimacy and needing help will make her walls thicker than ever

• “This is inappropriate,” Lute whispers.

In the dead of night she’s finally allowed you to assist but keeps fidgeting and surveying the area like someone will catch you two.

“It is not,” You roll your eyes, “Get your mind out of the gutter and be still! I’ll have you’ll feeling better in no time.”

• She seriously, seriously doubts that. Anything she can’t do herself, amongst certain divine exceptions, no one could do for her

• …But she’s letting you help (and your adept fingers are doing a better job) So either she doesn’t fully believe that, or you miraculously raised her expectations

• Lute decides the latter is acceptable– and a compliment, especially since you prove her wrong. Triple checking her wings, she can’t find a flaw or deny how wonderful they feel now.

• “This is adequate.”

You snort, “You could just say thanks?”

“How can I repay you?”

“I just told you.”

• She narrows her eyes, shocked and suspicious that you wouldn’t want anything. Lute, again, decides that your endeavor deserves an equal act of goodwill. Don’t take it for granted when she says, “No. I owe you one. One.”

˚✧₊⁎ Vaggie ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• She genuinely forgets what’s wrong with her when she needs to preen. Even with her wings folded away, the irritable pricking can be felt. She’s itching the back of her neck, hand clawing under the crew of her shirt and dipping between her shoulder blades when you ask when’s the last time she checked for pin feathers

• Vaggie’s always been independent. Up in Heaven she was a bit cocky with the fact she never needed help to reach them. Now, she felt helpless and stupid. Her arms cramped up, her hair kept getting in the way and the itching only progressed

• “Can I–?”

“No.” Her ivory eyes go wide, surprised at the fury of her own voice. Sighing and avoiding your (what she assumed was a) pitiful gaze, she apologizes. “Sorry. I don’t know why I… I used to be able to do this alone.”

Pausing at how defeated Vaggie sounds, you do your best to keep a positive, neutral tone.

“Cut yourself some slack, you haven’t done this in years. And, y’know, you don’t have to do it alone now. Not if you don’t want.”

• Smiling at the offer hanging in the air but not quite accepting, she goes about her managerial duties only to knock on your door afterwards

• Vaggie’s so grateful you can’t see how dark her face becomes as you sort through her wings. They’re not sensitive, they never were– it’s something about your fingers delicately touching her that cracks her resolve. Now she starts to understand why this was seen as an intimate act upstairs

• “Thanks for…” Still blushing, she gestures to her wings before hiding them, “Thanks.”

You try to keep up with her indifference but can’t help the smile spreading across your face.

“No problem.”

• If you think she’s not replaying the moment over and over in her head for days afterwards, you’re wrong. Vaggie’s desperately waiting for the moment to be just as useful to you

˚✧₊⁎ Husk ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• He’s hardly a fan of Angel touching him the way he does so a solid relationship is required to unlock the level of trust needed for this activity

• The first time it happens when you’re in his life, he won’t ask but also doesn’t reject the offer. Just looks extremely hesitant and uncomfortable

• Carefully, you pinch the rough layer and eye Husk from over his shoulder

• He breathes out a laugh, “Gonna take more than that to hurt me, sugar. Go on, I’ll be fine.”

• His wings might be the least sensitive… but that could also be all that alcohol in his system

• Husk hums as you work. After he gives a big, cat-like stretch and thanks you with a tip of his hat

• The simple gesture means more than you know, he’ll never forget it

~

╰(*´︶`*)╯♡ accidentally on purpose put them from most to least sensitive wings hehehe

big big big BIG thank you to @kottenox for the inspiration and letting me take this idea and run!

[inkdrinkerworld]

Reader takes bc and experiences nausea and loss in appetite because of it

“Spencer I’m not taking it and you can’t force me.” It’s Sunday, a day that used to be your favourite but once a month when you get your period Sunday becomes the day you take your first birth control for the month and you’re plagued with almost immediate nausea.

“Angel,” he coos softly, stroking your hand as you lay pitifully in bed. Spencer knows it can’t feel good, he’s been nauseous before and it isn’t fun. It’s even less fun seeing you so pale and bleak and a little down as you try to get a handle on yourself again.

“No,” you shake your head, turning away from where he’s got the box and a bottle water extended to you. “Can’t I just skip this month?”

Spencer knows it’s bad, it’s terrible on the best of days. But he also knows how bad it is when you don’t take the pills.

He doesn’t know how to make it better, he isn’t a medical doctor but he’s spoken to your OBGYN and she’d said to stick it out till your next appointment.

Except, sticking it out gives you intense sickness, a loss in appetite most days and a craving for refreshing fruits- like watermelon and cucumbers- when you finally do want to eat, which isn’t substantial enough to take any of your medicine.

“You know you can’t, angel.” He sets the things down near your legs. Spencer’s hand coasts your forehead and cheek. “Remember this is a new brand, the nausea is normal. I know it doesn’t feel good, but it’ll help in the long run.”

You know he’s trying to help but right now you don’t give a damn about the long run.

“C’mon, beautiful.” He’s pulling out the big guns now. Stroking your chin and calling you beautiful like that; all head in the clouds, full of love with his big brown eyes. “There’s soda crackers too, and when you feel up to it we can go get whatever you’d like for breakfast, yeah?”

“Spence,” but he only stays silent, looking at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky individually. “Can we get bagels? I want egg, ham and cheese in mine.”

Spencer rewards you with a dazzling smile and drops a kiss to your forehead. “We can get that and fresh ones for the week, angel.” He sets the tablet in your hand and opens the water, rubbing your hair out of your face as you swallow.

“What happened to beautiful?” Spencer laughs, reaching for the green tin of crackers.

“Here you go beautiful,” you preen, taking three crackers and nibbling slowly. “Proud of you, know it’s annoying to deal with.”

You nod, laying back down on your pillow when you finish the crackers.

“Think they’ll ever stop giving me nausea?” You ask Spencer, suddenly shifting positions so you can lay your head in his lap.

“They say it’s only supposed to last for the first three months, all statistics point to that being true. But bodies are all different, it’s not a one size fits all, maybe it won’t happen this month, maybe it’ll persist. Medicine is tricky when you add hormones into the mix.”

It isn’t as reassuring as you’d wanted to hear, but you know Spencer will help you through all the nausea and mood swings as long as he’s home.

[seresinhangmanjake]

The One I Want: Part 16

Jake Seresin x plus size!reader

Summary: You're new in town and some guy named Jake is about to be your roommate. Being skeptical of new people keeps you lonely and uninterested in any entanglements, but Jake is desperate to change that.

Warnings: a little smut

Words: 1500

The One I Want Masterlist / Main Masterlist / Tag List

“I can’t tell you much,” Jake had told you, but you knew that. “We’re not a hundred percent in the clear, but it’s looking like four weeks, maybe five.”

“Beats fifteen,” you’d said, hearing a rewarding chuckle in return. 

You were thankful no one could witness the mess you were at that moment, your face-splitting grin heavily contrasting the puffiness of your eyes from tears. But that was just the beginning of weeks of inner turmoil. 

For forty-eight days, your stomach has swirled a storm that’s consistently had you on the edge of nausea, whether from anxiety regarding his safety or butterflies at the thought of Jake returning. You miss him, more than you thought yourself willing to, and regardless of what he told you, nothing guarantees he will walk through the door of your apartment. And if he doesn’t, you know exactly what will happen to you. You’ll crumble into unsalvageable pieces, and no one—not Millie, not Rooster, not anyone who has been kind to you over the last months—will be able to put you back together. 

And then what? Your only choice will be to leave. Start anew. Twelfth new place. Except this time, you’ll be more numb, less human, less operable on a daily basis. It’ll be like waking from a dream to a gray environment. You fear nature will lose its color, and you will lose your light once again.

—

It’s another week before your phone rings with a name other than Millie’s plastered across the screen. Unknown Number, but the first three digits are recognizable, matching those of the number Jake has been using to call you with. What you hear on the other end of the line, however, is not Jake, but instead, a gruff voice asking you to confirm your identity. 

“Yes,” you answer. “That’s me.”

The man clears his throat. “You are the emergency contact for Lieutenant Jake Seresin. We’d like you to come down to our medical facility as soon as possible,” he says before providing you directions.

You drop your phone, and then you’re running. Running to his truck, running from his truck to base, running through halls until you find someone willing to lead you to him. You’re so terrified, your arms jittery, legs barely functioning from the panic of Jake’s pending fate, so overwhelmed by nerves that when you finally do see him, it pisses you off. 

That man with the voice that imbued you with dread is on your shit list for life. Maybe next time, he could lead an emergency contact call with He’s fine or Don’t worry, because his implication was severe enough that you feared lost limbs or damaged brain functioning. But there Jake is, not in a coma or with some life-threatening injury, but sitting on the edge of a bed in a room with his back to you as a nurse seals a strip of medical tape across a small patch of shaved hair on the side of his head.  

When she’s done with her work, she smiles at Jake and nods at something he says before walking out of the room. She jumps at the unexpected figure lingering just outside the door, and then realization dawns. 

“Oh, you must be the girlfriend,” she says. “You’re welcome to go on in.”

So you do, cautiously easing into the room, hoping that when he turns, his face won’t be covered in slashes and bruises—a sight you’re not sure you can handle with strength and maturity. You’d love him all the same, but to see him in such pain would take you to your knees. But again, he’s fine. Beautiful as ever. Not a mark on him that you can see save for the one on the mend. 

Jake’s face brightens at the sight of you; he practically glows, and you’re shocked to discover yourself not running into his arms. You’re frozen for a moment as you take him in. It’s a quick moment—a brief second to recover—but then you’re stepping to him, your eyes watering, your bottom lip quivering, your fingers reaching up to brush over the stark white tape. You’re careful with your feathery touch, relieved to see that his injury is not so sensitive as to make him wince.

Jake’s arms wrap around your waist. His eyes do not break from your face. He’s patient as you scan him once more for visible injuries, verifying for your own sake.

“It’s just the one,” he tells you, his voice soft and only a few notes above a whisper. Your eyes snap to his. He lifts his hand to cup your cheek, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Come here, beautiful.”

You melt when his lips gently touch yours, but the kiss doesn’t last long as innocent. There’s bites and sucking and giving and taking, and it’s perfect in its semi-sloppy neediness. Voices passing by the door is what breaks the two of you apart. Jake lightly groans before he chuckles and rests his forehead against yours. 

“I missed you,” he says. He places another quick peck on your lips. “I want to take you home.”

“Then take me home.”

—

“J-Jake!”

You feel his mouth curve against your core before he licks another stripe right through you, tongue like a heated blade slicing you in two halves, spreading you open and baring you inside and out. You’re completely gone—lost in the sole way you’re willing to be lost—as Jake tethers you to this earth. He’s the only one you trust to ground you while simultaneously letting your head float amongst the clouds. 

His arms curl around the thickness of your thighs, locking onto you and keeping your hips steady atop the mattress as he devours and tastes and sucks and licks some more.  

“Come on, beautiful,” he mumbles into your folds, just loud enough for you to hear through the rush of blood in your ears. “Let me have it.”

As if you could hold it back. 

Your whole body jerks and writhes as you sink into pleasure, back arching, head digging into the pillow. Jake reaches a hand up to intertwine your fingers and you squeeze them tightly while he continues to kiss folds and brush his nose against the overstimulated bud.

“There we go,” he coos until your body calms.

Jake crawls onto the bed, lips and tongue traveling up the soft flesh of your stomach, between the valley of your breasts, into the dip in your throat before he kisses you, demanding you taste everything you just gave him. 

Jake introduced you to your taste during those weeks before his deployment. His head lived between your legs. He showed you how to perch perfectly on his face, encouraging you through your concerns of suffocating him. He begged you to relax when he backed you up against the wall, slipped your pants off, knelt, and tossed your leg over his shoulder as he dove in. And after each success of making you crumble to pieces, he sealed his lips to yours and pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

You know your taste as well as you know his, and on the occasions he spills down your throat before he returns the favor, you get the satisfaction of the combination on your tongue—a mixture more intoxicating than an alcoholic binge. 

“I’m never going to want anything like I want you,” he says after he slips inside of you, the intensity of the love in his eyes penetrating your soul.

“Then it's good that I’m yours,” you whisper back.

Thrusts that were paced and steady and gentle falter. With your words comes a sharp rut of his hips—unexpected to you both—that hits hard, deep. Jake chokes on the air in his lungs, his eyes snapping shut as you cry out. 

“Fuck” hisses through the grit of his teeth. Then he finds his pace again. 

His head falls to your neck. Nibbles make you gasp, and the image of examining claiming bruises in the mirror first thing come morning causes your walls to clench around the veiny column moving in and out of you. Your fingers fist into his hair. Nails dig into the toned muscle of his ass. 

“I do love you, Jake,” you say. 

He stops completely, but you don’t question it. The fingers in his hair loosen and you lightly scrape your nails along his scalp, down to the base of his neck, then back up into blond locks. Turning your head, you stamp a tender kiss onto his temple. 

Jake doesn’t say a thing. He doesn’t look at you. His thick breaths burn the delicate skin just under your ear. When he begins to move, he’s slow, taking his time before he picks up, working to nudge that special spot inside of you that tightens a white-hot coil in your belly. 

“I love you so much, beautiful,” he whispers.

[succubus-princess]

Good Punishment

Imagine a day of punishment. It was agreed on after you misbehaved because you wanted to be a brat - you are excited of course, you love to be punished, it always feels good and you always get a reward after you endure it. The punishment for the day is to be with a vibrator the whole day, only remove it when they allow you to. And, of course, they will be controlling it from a distance so there are moments when it's off and you'll forget about it. Moments when the toy is on and you will feel like you will lose your mind while trying to keep a straight face since you're in public. It felt great, all of it, until you notice. . . they are not planning on making you cum. They know you so well that every time you're getting close, they turn the vibrations off and you're left squirming in place looking for more pleasure.

Except for when you're talking to someone. You had your toy with you from the morning, you feel too hot inside your clothes, you know your cheeks are flustered all the time because every time the vibrations start your blood rushes everywhere like an adrenaline kick. What if someone hears it? What if you make a sound? What if you start to drip through your pants with how soaked you are? Your mind is getting foggy, you can't think of anything but how good it feels when the toy is giving you more and more. . . until it stops.

And then you have to go back to paying attention to the person in front of you while her whole body pulsates for more. Blinking slowly with your glassy eyes, you stop biting your bottom lip, you smile, you ignore the need to roll your hips to get some friction going. You have no idea how long you can take of this, but it's your punishment and you know that its best to behave now. Better yet, you focus on your prize, you think of how amazing it will feel when you finally reach your climax, and you're desperate to hear the praise in their hoarse voice when they check how sensitive you are after a day of edging. Of course, it doesn't help to calm down your body nor it makes easier to ignore how fast you would cum if you just sneaked into the bathroom.

But when the vibrations start again, your mind follows its course into pretty scenarios where you would be moaning happily with every new wave of pleasure. You don't care about what the person in front of you is talking about, you don't care about- oh.

You were getting closer now, closer than before. Maybe because you were about to stand up so you could rush back home. Now the toy is not stopping, now you're being forced to hold back against what you desperately wanted, and needed. If you reached your climax right there, there was no doubt the person in front of you would notice. Your heart was beating too fast, you almost whimpered a few times during the conversation, you ignored how it sounded like you were moaning instead of humming in agreement, but if you came? God, you would moan so sweetly, arching your back and spreading your legs to feel the toy better. You couldn't let this happen. And the toy wasn't stopping now.

Adrenaline hit you hard like before, and this time you pressed your thighs together in the hopes of stopping the vibrations, feeling less of it, looking for control, for something to ground you in place. When it's time to leave, you make up an excuse to stay behind when everyone left - you have no idea how you're supposed to stand up with the toy vibrating so hard. Let alone walk, your legs were shaking, you wouldn't be able to hold back, you would cum and. . . it stopped. Panting, you closed your eyes to try and catch your breath, so sensitive that your whole body felt like it was overheating. You wanted to be out of your clothes, you wanted to cum, you didn't care if you were not home yet. The battle between can and can'ts kept shifting inside your mind because you wanted your high pleasure reward, but you knew it would be wrong if it happened there.

Your mind went blank when a single text popped up on your phone.

'We are not done yet. I'll meet you halfway home, you need to take a walk to calm down. We can keep going in the car'

You had no choice, it was part of the deal. It excited you further, not knowing if you would be able to endure it and hide from people that you were on the verge of cumming in public. Besides, the day was almost over, you would have your reward once you were home. Shaken legs or not, you stood up, a small vibration sending shivers down your spine as you hoped for the elevator to be empty when it was your turn to get inside.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

So, the Miraculous Ladybug TV Tropes page recently added this under the Broken Aesop section on the YMMV page:

Adrien/Cat Noir had many instances where he could have discovered the identity of Ladybug/Marinette, but always respected the private life of his beloved, despite knowing that learning it would bring them closer (The only time when he learned it accidentally, Adrien was punished with the apocalypse, no less, and a Retcon.) His attitude was presented as the right thing to do. In the meantime, Alya has been akumatized on the fact she wanted to know Ladybug/Marinette's secrets. Both times, she tried to violently force the issue with her powers and the second time was after she tried pressuring her into revealing them. But, as a reward for her pushy behavior, Alya has been entrusted with Ladybug's identity and the secrets of the Miracle Box. And Adrien's reward for respecting her privacy? He's still (and more and more) left in the dark, and will very likely be the last one to know.

Any thoughts?

I don't fully agree, but it's also not exactly wrong.

I love Alya, but I've never been a fan of the fact that she learned Marinette's secret identity, especially because the episode where it happens - Gang of Secrets - really failed to make the confession feel like a wise move. It's one of the many episodes with a wacky moral.

For those who don't remember, the episode has most of Marinette's female friends worrying about her. They know that she's keeping secrets because, for some reason, Marinette didn't tell anyone about her breakup with Luka:

Rose: They were so cute together! Alya: Yeah, except they broke up. Juleka: He was like super sad when they did. Alya: But the real problem here is that Marinette never told us anything. If Luka hadn't told Juleka, who told Rose, who told Mylène, who then told Alix, who finally told me. Then I, her BF in the whole world would still be in the dark! Yesterday I was in the restroom and I heard her crying.

This is... really weird. Why didn't Marinette tell them? The episode never explains and I can't figure out her logic because they'd obviously learn the truth. There's no way that Juleka wouldn't know!

My best guess is that the writers wanted a conflict over secrets, but they didn't want to have Marinette's girl friends pick up on her Ladybug-based lies as that would invite a level of complexity that they really can't resolve. But that's a meta reason. As far as the actual text goes, there's nothing to explain this baffling choice.

What's even more weird is that making it about the Ladybug secrets would have worked if Alya was the only one worried because the episode ends with Alya learning the truth. Having the episode only be about Marinette and Alya would make a lot of sense. Instead, it's about the whole, rarely-seen girl group so we're stuck with the Luka conflict. Yay.

Either way, I'm not wild about the actions Alya and Co take. Their first choice is to call Marinette. When she doesn't pick up, they leave a very sweet message. If things ended there, then we'd be fine, but right after that, we get this:

Alya: Maybe we should go to her house. What do you think? Mylène: We'll give her an eternal friendship bracelet so she never forgets that friends can tell each other anything and that we'll always be there for her.

This isn't a terrible idea. Checking on a friend when you're worried about them is a reasonable thing. The problem is the way that check up goes down. The girls basically invade Marinette's room and start messing with her stuff like this is some fun little hangout session, almost discovering the miracle box in the process:

Marinette: What are you doing here? Alya: We're just checkin' in on you, girl. Rose: Aw, it looks just like a real house, look how the roof comes off to show the inside! Marinette:(frantically) No! No, don't touch that! Move away! (As Rose opens the roof, Marinette gets down, pushing past through her friends and Rose as she hides what is inside of the dollhouse, while Rose accidentally drops the roof, which cracks. The girls gasp in shock.) Rose:(kneels to pick up the cracks) Sorry, Marinette! Marinette:(angrily) Will you please leave my room?! Alya: Chill out Marinette, it's just a doll house. We'll totally help. Marinette: No you won't, please go! Alya: Okay Marinette, there's clearly something wrong and we're not leaving you like this till you tell us what it is.

The scene goes on like this until Marinette lashes out and tells them to get out even if it means ending her friendship with them, which is a response that I find totally justified. Marinette is quite obviously very distressed by her friends' presence and they are refusing to listen to her pleas to leave. They're also giving that refusal in a highly confrontational manner, which is the completely wrong tone for conveying concern. They do not come across as caring. They come across as demanding.

Marinette has every right to be upset by that. It's okay to not want people to invade your room, touch your stuff, and demand to know you're secrets. It's also okay to get upset when people keep ignoring your clearly stated and perfectly reasonable boundaries.

While I fully support wellness checks, this is not how you do them. It's like a variation on the scenes where people confront Gabriel in Adrien's name. They're all impressively terrible examples of how you handle a very complex situation. Worst possible way you could go about it. Children, do not try this at home!

Of course, Marinette's justified reaction leads to the girls getting akumatized, leading to a fight, leading to Ladybug saving the day, leading to everyone being friends again even though the girls never apologize for how they went about their wellness check. Rose's quick sorry for breaking Marinette's doll house is the only one we get in the entire episode. Then we get this:

Alya: You go ahead girls, I just have one last thing to say to Marinette. (closes the door to Marinette's room) You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things. I won't try to figure it out or force it out of you. (sits beside Marinette) If you can't tell me what's in your heart, it's your right. Marinette: Will we still be friends? Alya: Marinette. I'm your best friend, and I'll always be. That's why it kills me that I can't help you with whatever's making you feel so alone. (Alya sighs, and is about to leave Marinette's room when Marinette grabs her hand.) Marinette: Alya, wait! Stay. You're right, I am alone. (grows increasingly emotional) More than ever before. I can barely take it anymore! You know why I broke up with Luka? Not because I don't like him, he's amazing! It's 'cause there's something that I can't tell him. You know why I have to forget Adrien? For the exact same reason! You're right, I keep secrets, I lie all the time! I lie to my friends, to my parents, to everyone and the worst thing is, I can't do it any other way! Alya: There's always another way. Marinette: No, not this time. I have no choice. All this is bigger than us, Alya. Way too big. Alya: If it's too big, two of us can handle it better than one. Marinette: If I tell you, things will never be the same between us again. (shakes her head) It'll mess up everything, maybe even destroy it. Alya:(voice breaking) Marinette, I'm your very best friend. Marinette: And I… I'm Ladybug.

Maybe this is just me, but this doesn't feel like Alya respecting Marinette's boundaries. It's certainly not as bad as the earlier scene. In fact, I like a lot of this in a vacuum, but because of that earlier scene, this one feels uncomfortable. Once again, Alya is so sure that she knows what she's talking about even though she really doesn't.

In the first scene, Marinette was right that they all needed to get out so that she could protect the Kwamis and in this scene she was right that the Ladybug reveal wasn't the kind of thing where sharing was the clear right choice. This would all play so much better if Alya said her first few lines and then actually left, only to be called back by Marinette several hours later. Then we'd really feel like Marinette was making an informed choice instead of revealing her identity in a panic.

Another option would be to have Alya offer comfort without needing to know what is upsetting Marinette, maintaining the secret identities while also giving Marinette some much needed support. Saying she'll support Marinette no matter what and then getting up to leave just doesn't feel super supportive to me. It feels like Alya is (unintentionally) making Marinette panic by saying one thing while technically doing another.

Remember, Marinette just had a really stressful day where she almost lost all of her friends, making this an incredibly charged moment that ends with Alya leaving while clearly disappointed. Of course Marinette would try to salvage that! Her brain isn't focusing on Alya's genuine words. It just sees Alya leaving and panics. It doesn't help that this opening line would put a lot of people on edge:

You didn't tell us everything, did you? A journalist and a BFF can tell these things.

"I know you're still keeping secrets, but I respect that" is not the best way to start a conversation with someone who is clearly struggling.

Because of these issues, I don't feel like Marinette truly decided to make this serious choice. I feel like she blurted it out in the middle of a panic attack, so this scene never gave me a warm fuzzy feeling. This is especially true because we never get to truly see the fallout of Alya processing the reveal and comforting Marinette. The scene just ends and the next episode has them back to their usual dynamic, just with the bonus element of Alya knowing the whole Ladybug thing.

To be fair to Alya, a lot of this comes back to our oft-discussed issue of Miraculous trying to speed run major story lines in 20 minutes because it's a formula show so it can't let things play out properly. That doesn't change the fact that this feels rushed and unsatisfying. It's not the natural conclusion to an episode where Alya learns to respect Marinette's boundaries, but I don't think that's actually the lesson here. The lesson seems to be that Marinette should share her secrets with her friends to lessen her mental burden.

Once again, that's a lovely lesson in a vacuum, but a really weird one for the show that gave us Chat Blanc and Miracle Queen in the previous season and that will include Sentibubbler, Ephemeral, and Nino accidentally outing Alya to Gabriel in the exact same season. Season five will even see Luka leave the country because he knows the secret identities!

Writers, when it comes to secret identities, you really need to pick a lane. Are they good or bad? Is sharing them a No Good Very Bad Thing, an act of trust, or no big deal? The inconsistency around this topic is a major issue for the show as the Alya reveal really undermines everything going on with Ladynoir. While there's solid logic for Ladynoir not sharing, similar logic applies to Alya at this point because Gabriel literally knows her secret identity! Through no fault of her own, Alya is not a safe person and that makes it really hard to watch Alya get the reveal while Adrien stays in the dark. I can justify him not knowing. I can't justify Alya knowing.

I'll wrap this up by saying that I don't agree that Adrien has respected Ladybug's boundaries to the point where it feels like he should have been rewarded (narratively speaking, of course. This is a story after all). He may not be all that pushy about an identity reveal, but he's pretty freaking pushy about Ladynoir becoming a thing, so Ladybug not being ready to trust him does feel earned. Plus, as I said above, it's not like there's no logic behind them keeping their identities a secret. We know that they're dating on the civilian side, but as far as they know, they're total strangers.

If you look at it from that perspective and ask, "what are the benefits of a reveal," you'll find that they're not overwhelming, especially when compared to the risks that come with a mind-controlling super villain on the loose. I totally get why Marinette isn't telling him a thing, I'm just not really sure why she needed to tell Alya. The more logical route here is for Marinette to keep her secrets and look for support on the Ladybug side of things. Ideally that support should be Chat Noir or Su-Han, but it could be Alya, too. I still think that's a bad call since Alya's identity is in the villain's hands, but it would still make more sense than Marinette telling Alya all of her secrets. Another route would be for Alya to learn by accident. She walks in at the wrong time and, ooops, no taking that back. That's the only way I'd personally write Alya learning at this point in the story.

Sorry if this one was a bit of a ramble, the writing around the topic of secret identities is one of the elements I truly don't understand. I have no idea what the writers are doing here. It's not even a "you didn't think this through" thing like the sentimonster stuff. It's a "you spent all of last season telling us that identity reveals are bad and you're about to spend all of this season also telling us that, so why do we randomly get an identity reveal that's magically okay? Rena Furtive doesn't even do anything useful for the plot, why make her a thing?? Are you even trying to tell a coherent story???"

[willysnylander]

so this is probably the only post i’m gonna make about the final game instead of just reblogging stuff about it, but like. here’s the thing. i don’t want the oilers to win the cup for themselves. i don’t want them to win it for their fans, especially considering they were, like, my fifth choice of team going into the playoffs. i don’t even want them to win it for canada, despite the fact that if they win they’ll bring it home for the first time in thirty-one years and my meagre sense of patriotism rears its head at the thought. or at least, i don’t care if any of that is what they win it for.

i want them to win it for eighteen-year-old connor mcdavid, drafted onto a team that had his jersey made before the draft even happened. i want them to win it for nineteen-year-old connor mcdavid, being named captain of an nhl team, the youngest in history, when he was the same age i am now. hell, i want them to win it for seventeen-, sixteen-, fifteen-year-old connor, getting into the ohl a whole year early on a special exception, being named captain of his ohl team, playing against and with jealous boys several years older than him and beating them, already being talked about as the second coming of gretzky when most kids his age had fewer worries than asking the person they liked to the next school dance.

i want them to win it, want him to win it, because he was drafted at eighteen already the next proclaimed hockey messiah when sidney crosby had already been that less than a decade before, and now he is twenty-seven and only now close enough to touch the stanley cup, and the entire time he has had the weight of the cross, of the entire league, on his shoulders. because he has done nothing more than play and play and try and try, wanting everyone to be right about him and to be a good captain even if he was given the responsibility when he could have just been starting college and to be the second coming they want him to be, not knowing who he is if he isn’t that. because that’s what people have been seeing him as since he was a teenager, since he was eager and starry-eyed and too young. and already connor bedard has come along and the fans, the reporters, the league have already started proclaiming a brand new second coming, while all the while he has continued to play and try and become more and more the supposed “hockey robot” that we like to joke he is, because he had that cross on his shoulders for so long and even now, even as it has started to shift onto the back of yet another starry-eyed ingenue whose peers are barely out of high school, he still craves that crucifixion. because he has always been told it is his destiny to ascend, and so far all he has gotten is the suffering and desperation and pressure of that ascension with none of the rewards, and finally, finally, the reward for his suffering is so close to being his.

and i know he’s far from the only athlete to be put on this pedestal, to bear this weight. i know he’s not even the first one in this league that this has happened to. I know that even getting to foist that silver idol above his head won’t be worth all the weight and attention and pain that he’s suffered since he was only a kid, that it won’t make up for it. i don’t know if anything could make up for all that.

but it doesn’t change the fact that i want it to happen. because if after tonight, he’s able to look back on nineteen-eighteen-seventeen-sixteen-fifteen-year-old him and know that he got from there to where he is now… it may not be worth all of it. but it will be worth something.

[sparklyballoonballoon]

Owl House Roleplay Request

Let’s use both OCs and CCs for the roleplay 

Ships, yeah, I’m okay with having romance

In the roleplay as well since I have some

Ideas of ships in mind. 

Luz x Amity 

King x OC

Cat x Pufferfish bipedal demon in the abominations track with the sloth Palisman 

Boscha x OC 

Amelia x Lucas (the blond guy with the black beanie in the oracle track uniform who is a part of Boscha’s group in the episode Once Upon a Swap)

Eda x Raine

Jerbo x Edric 

Viney x Emira 

Bo x Skara 

Gus x Matt

(Au, Hunter attends Hexside 

Lumity is not together yet. That will happen in the rp 

Flapjack is already dead and Waffles will eventually be introduced in the rp 

Vee and Camila on the isles 

King starting Hexside eventually 

One of Boschas posse members, the healing girl, Cat having a character arc. I wanna give her a tragic backstory since he’s a background character and I can be able to have freedom 

I wanna rp Luz, Hooty, King, Principal Bump, Edric, Gus, Viney, Bo, Gavin, Angmar, Amelia, Cat, Vee

Perhaps neutral, maybe a mix of angst and some fluff

And plenty of comedy and funny dialogue 

I also wanna try to make this as literate as possible 

Also I want to have Luz finish her high school stuff  at Hexside and not go back to her old school 

I had this idea for a plot. I wanted to have Del perhaps organize a big project to lower the age limit on Palisman at Hexside to maybe a minimum grade of 4th with some exceptions depending and perhaps have another Palisman receiving day. King and rest of his classmates and other students without palismen yet can get theirs 

Like Del can host one with the collaboration of Eda, Gwen, the Bat Queen and Principal Bump. And maybe have Hunter and possibly anyone else once we get to that will be volunteers or something

And the adoption is is open to grades 4-12.

The 4 and 5th graders and all the middle schoolers can get theirs. And to be high schoolers who didn’t get theirs yet can finally get one

Maybe that’s when Hunter finally gets Waffles or something. Though does Waffle already exist or will you introduce her later in the RP?

Also does Matt have a palismen already or will his palisman be introduced in the rp? Also have you heard of Matt’s headcanoned palisman Garth?

(I wanna do a plot or some sort of Darius plot with him, Eberwolf, Steve, and Raine and potentially others working on a murder mystery in the RP as well and perhaps have some sort of trial

I want Cat (the healing girl with the glasses who’s in Boscha’s friend group) to have younger twin siblings who’s around Kings age. Their mother is framed and accused for a crime that she didn’t commit and the three are framed and accused as accomplices

This is related to something called the Dynasty Wars

The wealthy families of the boiling isles compete against each other of who makes the most contributions to the Day of Unity and who gets the biggest rewards from Belos. This causes them to get drastic measures to get on top

It’s a tactic that Belos created and used in order to make his job easier and have less witches to eliminate because witches will be eliminating each other through their feuds

I also wanna have boss fights at Hexside. Like similar to Labyrinth runners but with Luz and other characters included

I want to have all of Hexaide and their parents to fight off against each covenhead and their army of covenscouts to fight them off to keep them from getting branded 

One day they’ll take on Adrian, another day Terra, then Mason, Hettie, Vitimir, Osran…and keep taking them on until all the covenheads are defeated and then there’s this final one with Kikimora and all the covenheads along with the biggest covenscout army yet

if you wanna roleplay with me, lemme know in the comments below or just PM me

[tac-bat]

Why I love How Sky Portrays Death

Before I start, I go into detail about death and loss, and description of the afterlife and dying and examples of it in sky and a little mention of religion irl.

I wrote this while sleep deprived if this makes no sense, i'm not sorry

Take this all with a grain of salt as this is purely my observation and interpretation

To many, death is scary, unpredictable, and inevitable. Death is frightening because it represents the end of life, the loss and grief it brings, and the uncertainty of where we will go. Every religion has its own version of the afterlife, from our soul moving to a new body, places ranging from rewarding good and punishing evil, to simply being nothing. Death is scary because we'll never truly know what lies beyond or what awaits. It's complicated ,heavy, and it's something that many have delved deeper into too. I only bring this up because the sky not only answers, but embraces death. How? Let's take a look.

Orbit

Sky's interpretation of the afterlife is perfect. "All are given breath by starlight," as stated in the intro mural, everyone ends up back in the stars someday, becoming spirits that travel to this small part of the galaxy. They even seem to become one with the light and stars if they so please. And it's relaxing; it's soothing.

They know it exists.

Spirit's have shown from the beginning of the game that they can descend and ascend whenever they please. See all TS's, Grandma, and event spirits like Yeti, who appear briefly during Feast to cast a snowman spell before ascending. According to this logic, orbit is widely known because ancestors were bound to descend to explain what happens. And spirits aren't gone from their loved ones' lives; they're still present. They're not gone and can visit anytime they like; it's not hard for me to imagine them visiting others during holidays and events.

Gravestone's

In every social space, there are gravestones for every base-game ancestor. What's interesting is how they're laid out; unlike regular graveyards, which are organized in a line, none of the graves are uniform, some being lengths apart. This is very clear in Prarie, with one near the closet and another nestled in a cave; even irl graveyards that are less uniform don't tend to put burials that far away, but Sky does. It almost seems like an ancestor could've possibly chosen the placement themselves. You also have the special burial site at the 8-player door, a working elevator and all, the graves have their own little buildings and stones draped in gold, implying a ceremony as we know. Not only that, but Valley's way of honouring death is extremely interesting.

Let's talk about Samekh's temple

Valley really demonstrates how death is viewed—not in a morbid way but in an honourable way. The hallways of both races are lined with gravestones, with the exception of some open spaces. When compared to decorations such as the eight-player door, the gravestones themselves are painted in gold. They're unlike any graves seen so far, and you can argue that these were reserved for champions, and if so, I feel like the halls would be packed considering this is the valley of triumph, but no, there are still a few open spaces. Which makes me adore how there are gravestones in the twin's temple.

Their temple is the only one that not only has gravestones inside, but is lined with them! And considering their position and how we know they play a big role in the sky as leaders, to the point where they have a temple, it makes the fact they share it as an ancestor's final resting place so heartwarming to me. They were under no obligation to place gravestones; they could have dragged the banners down, added more statues, or even designed something similar to Daleth's temple like the murals we see, but they didn't. They allowed the room with their shrine to be a graveyard, they value their people's lives; they regard it as an honour, and whether those are the graves of champions or ordinary people, they value them all the same.

And it still hurts.

Even in the sky, where the question of death is answered, it still hurts.

It hurts when Mindful and a Tearful miner witness the deaths of their friends, Tearful having to bury their own. It hurts when Teabrewer returns with herbs for their loved one who died while they were away, so much so that they become anxious when they leave anyone alone, as seen in their info card. It's horrifying to know how many ancestors died in the war with no way to escape, faced with the fear of death every day.

Death is still scary in Sky, and I love it for that. Even when you know where you'll go, you still value your life; you don't want to die, and you don't want to go. But when that time comes, when you choose to be one with the universe, or roam your home with your star-kissed body, you'll never be alone. And that's why I adore the way death is depicted:

Because it's bittersweet.

[aspiringsophrosyne]

Jester Lavorre and Letting go.

A while ago, I wrote a post on the Mighty Nein and how that campaign had, among other accidental themes, an overarching theme of characters (player characters and NPCs alike) running from their problems and only delaying the inevitable at best and making things worse for themselves at worst as a result.

I did not include Jester in the list of characters I covered, and I think now might be a good time to delve into why:

Because Jester doesn't run from her problems, she runs to them.

For the sake of complete accuracy, this is generally the case, but not exclusively. Jester, like the rest of the Nein on the whole, has a rather pessimistic view of things and gives up on some things too soon. (Everyone, including Jester, assumed there was no way back to shore after they stole their first ship, and the rest of the Nein, except for Essek and Cad, were ready to give up before Cad's last Divine Intervention, etc.) But we see multiple times that Jester runs towards her personal problems, or what she sees as her personal missions or obligations, instead of away from them.

In fact, it could be argued that Jester hangs on long after it might've been better for her to let go.

But before that, her father. Jester pursues him every chance she gets, and when Marion reveals he's someone she knows and has met, her first instinct is to Send to him and tell him she's his daughter. She keeps doing this until he finally agrees to meet with her. And then, even after that less-than-hopeful face-to-face conversation where he finally admits she's his biological child, she still clings to the idea of hooking her parents back up again.

Travelercon is another one. It's one of Jester's main focuses after finding her father, and even with all the other things she has to deal with, she's continually worrying about getting there in time and trying to figure out what to do when she gets there. She sees it as an obligation to the Traveler (even after she finds out he was never actually a god), and she never tries to run from it or weasel (heh) out of it.

And then at Travelercon, when a vessel of the Moonweaver herself gets involved in the shenaniganary, Jester latches onto Artie and refuses to let go no matter how much Fjord begs her to do so or how much the vessel questions her loyalty in the face of Artie's selfishness. Only when he kicks her off does he spare them both a trip to the Fey Realm.

(And remember, this would've delayed their trip to Eiselcross, which would've allowed who knows what to happen before they came back; not only was there a ticking clock in the form of DeRogna and another adventuring troupe, but time moves weirdly in the Fey Realm.)

On a more positive note, Jester doesn't just refuse to give up on her goals; she also refuses to give up on people. Because of her, the Gentlemen gives up on selling his problems into slavery, eventually walks away from his criminal life altogether, and reunites with Marion like Jester wanted. Her kindness, however teasing, is a big part of why Essek turns over a new leaf. And she never gives up on either of the circus kids. No matter what terrible things their bodies are made to do, she still believes they're both in there, and not only is she proven correct, but her faith in them is rewarded both times.

Jester doesn't give up on people. And while this ties her to Artie in a way that's not entirely healthy for either of them, it does more good than harm in the long run.

This is part of what so strongly endears her to the rest of the Nein. With the arguable exceptions of Essek and Cad, the Nein have largely been written off by people who should've loved and supported them. Veth highlights this when she reveals why she chose Nott as her pseudonym. Caleb's tutelage under Trent is self-explanatory; Fjord's upbringing scarred him; Beau's dad sold her; Yasha's tribe forbade and then murdered her love; Molly was left to climb out of that shallow grave alone—all these people have been discounted. And when they meet Jester, she makes for a beautiful and powerful counterpoint.

[sleepingdeath-light]

wally + receiving oral hcs ; 18+

requested by ; 112_writes (ao3) (23/06/23) & tell (ao3) (30/06/23)

fandom(s) ; welcome home

fandom masterlist(s) ; sfw | nsfw

character(s) ; wally darling

outline ; “Sub Wally with oral receiving? Like reader has an oral fixation?”

&

“Please do some headcanons for Wally receiving oral… <3 it’s been fun reading some nsfw headcanons finally (‘:”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, oral sex (male receiving)

note ; playfellowxxx was the tag created by clown and the team specifically for nsfw content — if you don’t want to see that sort of thing then that is the tag to block

note 2 ; these are much more general hcs but there are a few allusions to sub!wally throughout (but he’s mostly read as a switch) and there is one reference to the reader having an oral fixation at the end. but that’s about it haha

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

wally struggles quite a bit when it comes to outright receiving pleasure without giving anything in return — even if he’s taking on a more submissive role, and even if you make it clear that getting him off helps you get off and focus as well, he’s still going to sheepishly insist on returning the favour somehow (yes this also happens if you leave him a complete and utter mess, the man’s determined)

but for all of his talk, when it comes to the moment when you actually go down on him he becomes a twitchy, flustered mess of a man who can’t even look you in the eye — and if you look up at him through your eyelashes whilst you suck him off you might just watch his soul leave his body for a few seconds

he doesn’t know where to look or what to do with his hands, even, and sort of just ends up doing a lot of shaky, quick and unsure movements that would make you laugh if your mouth wasn’t stuffed with his cock

of course he’ll shakily brush your hair out of your face whilst you’re blowing him (if you have any) and he’ll occasionally look down to watch his dick disappear between your lips — but most of the time he’s gripping onto the nearest surface, brushing his own hair out of his face, loosening his collar and looking anywhere and everywhere except for at you

as for being vocal, this man isn’t short on praises to give — voice gentle and low but strained as he praises you and pleads for you to do something (he can’t quite bring himself to say exactly what and usually just prays you get the hint — which you always do) and lets out a veritable chorus of moans and gasps and groans and pants

all airy and light and in that tone only he can pull off — the one that sends a wave of heat straight to your core whether you’re dominant and getting off on getting him off, or a submissive getting of on being praised and rewarded by all of those beautiful sounds of his

by the time you’re finished he’ll be in a complete and utter state that anyone would be proud to have caused

mouth parted in a perfect ‘o’ with saliva gathered at the corners and seeping out as he pants and gasps and moans — that sort of state

eyes half lidded and barely staying open with pupils that are blown wide and unfocused as he stares at you with adoration and need — that sort of state

usually perfectly sprayed and styled hair falling over his face in a mess of blue curls and waves that’s so loose you wouldn’t have even known how long he spent styling it if you hadn’t have seen him do it that morning — that sort of state

blue cardigan discarded and white shirt unbuttoned to expose a good portion of his lean yellow chest as he pants and trembles under your touch — that sort of state

and if you look him in the eye as you swallow his cum then he’s going to let out the shakiest, lowest moan you’ve ever heard him make and his eyes will follow the path it takes — licking his lips and swallowing himself when he sees your throat bob

and if you choose to let him spurt onto your face or chest then he’s going to groan and whimper, asking (once he’s grounded once again but no less out of breath) if you’d like him to grab you a napkin or a piece of toilet paper to help clean yourself up

he’s never not going to be flustered when you do this, no matter how many times you’ve gone down on him, but that doesn’t mean he’s not enjoying himself when you suck his dick — he’s just more of a giver than a receiver

but if you have an oral fixation and make it clear that he’s helping you by letting you do this then he’s going to comply — after all, what kind of a partner would he be if he turned down the opportunity to indulge you?

[vuldak-juneau]

@heroic-ignus Location: The journey to Hrimthur's Outpost

(tw: violence) Each step further into the wasteland was agony. The miles and days had piled up, but so too had the promises. Little aside from callouses and frost-bitten extremities had materialized as rewards. That was until the long-whispered about village materialized before their eyes.

Rest was welcomed, and the collective held breath was finally released. Hands were made busy with preparing beds for resting, hunters were dispatched to find meat, and gatherers for what other provisions there were to be found. Even Juneau, perpetually pessimistic, found her mood slightly lifted and her surly attitude a bit more welcome to chip in for the benefit of others. 

Juneau had been tasked with preparing a space for the horses, and that solitary work suited her fine. She spread the hay as evenly as she could, and perhaps fed them a bit more grain than was prudent, but they had earned it after all. Her back had begun to ache from the manual labor of refreshing the stalls and wielding the heavy pitchfork. A breathless sigh escaped her as she pulled the thick sleeve of her coat across her forehead.

And then—somehow immediately amongst the throng of refugees—she saw his face. Ivar. Whatever happened between the moment she first laid eyes on him and meeting him toe to toe was beyond her. Rage and shock had blacked out her senses, and then next thing she knew she was throttling him. 

Pitchfork in hand, she grappled him to the ground and relished in the fact that her newfound strength allowed her to best him. Juneau was determined now to demonstrate her superiority in every way, to return his favor of demonstrating how little he had needed her but sending a clear message that she needed him even less. Ivar struggled, and his panicked eyes found no reprieve or tool to aid him in his plight. Instead, he only saw the jackal’s smile materialize on Juneau’s face hovering above his own.

He was fighting as hard as he could, and the unyielding, violent urges that drove Juneau’s decision making process spurred her on. She pinned him, one foot pinning down each of his arms with her full weight. Juneau needed him to understand how futile escaping his fate would be, he would receive the same lack of mercy he showed her a month prior—none. Her breath was ragged with elated anticipation as she gripped the pitchfork in both of her hands and strained her back to lift it above her head. 

The movements were swift and secure as she brought the rusted points of the pitchfork down with the whole of her might. He screamed and the sound of it could have made her laugh. Perhaps there was a time and a place for small mercies, for rather than piercing him through the neck, she pinned him to the frozen floor of the village path between the lethal prongs of the tool and slowly lowered her face toward his. She felt her mouth opening, the flesh of her cheeks lengthening until the sinew tugged at itself to the snapping point, her gaping maw opening wider than the hinge of a human jaw would permit. The razor-sharp jowls of a wolf threatened to raze through his neck and swallow him whole, but when the beast of Juneau took in that anticipatory breath before the kill all it loosed in her was a scream.

The woman jolted upright into the frigid, dark air in a chaotic, sudden lurch. Juneau panted and clutched at herself, finding that she was still very much human in form. The flickering light of a near-dead fire reminded her that they had not arrived anywhere except another bend in the winding mountain pass, another false summit, another unkept promise of respite. She swallowed hard and pawed at her cheek finding it dry—it was too cold to allow for the materialization of tears, not that she was weak enough to cry. Not for that fucker. The beating of her heart began to right itself again, slowing back to its normal rate in increments and she glanced around hoping that her decision to sleep as far away from the others had granted her the privacy it was intended for. 

[4ngeldusstt]

V A N I L L A P U D D I N G

A/N: my fave thing in the world is vanilla pudding, my brain somehow came up with this dumb ass situation, i hope you all like it!!

Warnings: mild swearing (the f word is said one time)

Word count: 951

The Special Operations Squad was now out on a mission, nothing major, just exterminate some titans that made it through the hole in the wall of Shiganshina, the soldiers regrouped on top of the wall expectant of Commander Erwin’s orders, once we all knew where and what we had to do we were dismissed, you were going to your assigned place until you heard commander calling out your last name stopping on your tracks and giving him your full attention “yes, commander Erwin?” Expecting maybe a change in your orders. “I’d like to inform you there’s vanilla pudding for dessert tonight.” A small smile creeped on his face as your eyes lit up, you loved pudding that was a fact, his attempt of motivating you a little more was successful. When we finished a mission that went as planned, the higher ups prepared us a feast of delicious foods and drinks to celebrate, Commander made sure to always add pudding, especially for you.

You were after Levi, an exceptional soldier, the only one that could match up Humanity’s Strongest Solider’s skills. Being younger, you and commander had a great relationship, he cared for you almost like a daughter. “I’ll make sure to give my best efforts in this mission, as always, I’ll give my heart, commander.” You said bringing your left first to your chest and lowering your head and lifting it up with a smile. “I don’t expect less from you, y/n.” He said after turning around and making his way to Hange, not before warning you to be careful and not put yourself in unnecessary situations.

“You’re going with me, brat. Let’s go.” Levi, who was quietly standing next to the commander, said to you. “Yes, Captain.” You both walked to the edge of the wall. It was always a pleasure to work hand in hand with Levi, you don’t get on his way and act as a good support for him, as same as he does for you when it’s needed. When both of you team up, it becomes an unstoppable titan killing duo. “You know what you gotta do, no need in over explaining. Let’s fucking do this, brat.” He said giving you a side smile, it was a known fact that Levi didn’t tolerate many people, but he did tolerate you, more than he would like, to be honest. “I’m already eager, come on.” At his signal both of you jumped off the wall, meaning the start of an amazing show for the ones in the walls that were lucky to see both of you in action.

Time skip

The mission was a success, the scouts already made it to the main headquarters, some of them already showered and in the main dinning hall eating and drinking like there’s no tomorrow, laughs, voices and chants could be heard from outside. You wanted to have a relaxing shower by yourself, so you had to wait until every girl showered leaving you to be the last in order to enjoy a little bit of peace. Once you were clean and dressed in comfy clothes you made your way to the dinning hall desiring to get some food in and fill your stomach finally. Walking to the food area to get a tray to collect your desired and delicious pudding, the one you thought about all day, said dessert was a reward that you worked so hard for. You stretched your arm your grasp the last one left, until someone also reached for it faster snatching it away from you.

The situation played in your head in slow motion, seeing the smiling young man walk away taking a spoonful of it humming in delight. You stood there, looking at your still out stretched hand, frozen in place not wanting to believe what just happened. You felt your eyes starting to water as you turned your head towards the lucky bastard that was eating your pudding. Slowly making your way back to your seat joining your friends at the table. Stray tears rolling down your cheeks as you ate, suddenly, a pudding was placed in front of you out of nowhere. Following the trail of the hand that left it there with your eyes until you saw a familiar man, “Levi” you whispered to yourself “I knew they were going to run out fast and I also knew you would be upset if you didn’t get one. So I made sure to secure one just in case, now stop crying brat.” He playfully rolled his eyes gaining a big grin from you as you gave him a small nod wiping your tears away with the back of your hand. “I know it’s dumb but it really makes me happy, thank you Levi, I really appreciate it.” You softly said looking down in embarrassment. “Hey brat, if it makes you happy it’s not dumb. You did a good job today, you deserve it.” He moved the small dish and placed it in front of you, before going back to his seat.

You did a small happy dance tasting the first bite, an obvious look of satisfaction on your face “this right here is the reason why I’m glad to be alive right now.” You said to your friends pointing down to the dessert with your spoon. Perceiving on the side of your eyes how Erwin, Levi and Hange laughed and smiled at your statement, turning to them you said “Thank you Commander for the pudding, tell the chef it’s delicious as always! And thank you again Captain, you made this girl very happy!” They nodded in response with a smirk.

This was gonna be a good, well deserved night for all of us.

[mister-e-muss]

Time for another back log report. Here’s the games I beat in Spooky Month 2024!

Bayonetta-

Platinum games is known for making high-quality action games with both style and challenge. And if there’s anything Bayonetta has, it’s style. The combat is fun and smooth, and the soundtrack is amazing. I will say though that some of the plot could have been expanded a bit. While the Cereza/Bayonetta twist is easy enough to spot, the ramifications of it in the final act come almost out of nowhere: not because it doesn’t make a certain amount of sense, but because there really isn’t enough clear explanation of how it works. That said, I need the rest of this series injected into my veins posthaste.

Shin Megami Tensei V (Chaos Route)-

I wonder if you can spot a pattern yet. :P.

I hate for Vanilla SMT5 to become the Xenoblade X of its series, but a lot of the same sentiments do apply. Namely, that I give this game credit for everything except the story. It’s not that the story is bad, it’s that it’s absent almost entirely. For the first area, you’re given just enough to grasp the premise, which works because of how mysterious and isolated the game makes you feel. The second major arc even works well because it quickly establishes that you cannot return to normalcy. It wasn’t until I reached the end of the third area that I thought ‘Huh, I’m three quarters of the way through this game. I feel like maybe more should have happened by now.” And then the finale just kicks off with little to no fanfare or frills. A lot of people will say that side content provides a more full picture, and as a Xenoblade X fan, I’d be okay with that, but even that mostly just tells you about the demons’ personalities, which you already see plenty of. The Khonsu quest line is engaging, but why was it a side quest? Why was Miyazu’s entire character just to be motivation for Atsuta (that isn’t even mentioned past area 2 mind you) and then motivation for Khonsu in a side quest?

On a different criticism, I’m not wild about how strict the level-scaling is. I get that it incentivizes doing the side quests and exploring for more experience, but it also brings the pacing to a screeching halt, especially when you’ve already found the end-of-area bosses. The Ueno area in particular is guilty of this because while it’s cool to have three bosses you can tackle in any order, it’s less cool when you have to grind to take on even one of them, when previous games could let you just respec and still have a fighting chance.

The music, however, is something I can praise without reservation. Special mention goes to Ueno and the End Credits theme. It’s not as overall foreboding and atmospheric as IV’s, but I’d rate them pretty similarly. V’s soundtrack has a lot of fun dissonance and mismatch, which creates this feeling of chaos in its world and gameplay.

The exploration is also excellent, with plenty of nooks and crannies to explore, and rewards that more often than not, felt worthwhile. I’d like to highlight the Miman as an example of a checklist done right. Sure you could scour the map for each and every one, but your not required to. Even finding all 200 Miman wouldn’t give you enough points to max out your character. For that matter, you are only told the total amount overall. On a first run through, you would have no idea how many areas and MPSM (Miman Per Square Millimeter) there are. There’s an NPC you can pay to make their locations known on the map but, and this is crucial, you only run across them near the end of an area, after you’ve probably already collected a fair amount.

In summary, I enjoyed this game. I am glad, however, that Vengeance exists, and will probably be using that for any subsequent runs.

Final Fantasy VIII-

This is one of the more divisive entries in the series. The narrative that surrounded this game for a while was that they followed up the best game of all time with the worst game ever. Thankfully, as with X and XIII, people have long since reevaluated that stance. As for myself, I enjoyed my time with it, but I can’t say it ever stole my heart.

Final Fantasy VIII truly is its own worst enemy at times. I like a fair amount of the ideas in this game. It has good ideas. It has too many good ideas. It has too many good ideas that work against each other. For example: The enemies level up alongside of you, forcing you to look more seriously at the junction system. Fair enough, but why then is the character who gets the last hit in rewarded with more experience? It created this frustrating state for me where my party physically couldn’t be over-leveled, but every character not named Squall Leonheart was under-leveled.

The story, I won’t lie, is messy. Part of it is because not much is really explained at first. I appreciate the fact that the characters don’t talk about stuff they already know, but a place to read just what the Sorceress War was would have been appreciated. Hell, they have a library, and they already had a console to learn about the GF’s, why not expand one or the other? I will give credit for the use of amnesia: mainly that all of the characters who have amnesia don’t remember that they have amnesia. There’s also a particular brand of crazy stamped on this game; one where gun-swords can be standard issue, space ships are built to look like dragons, and the enemy army board ships by making Evel Knievel motorcycle jumps.

I’m not entirely sure where I would rank 8 among the final fantasy games I’ve finished. Maybe I should play it again, just to be sure. :)

Apollo Justice, Ace Attorney (As part of the trilogy)-

The more I play the Ace Attorney games, the more I understand how much people love them. As one post put it, being able to dramatically call out people on their BS in such a way that they break down appeals to people.

The only criticism I can truly level at this game is how they handle the new ‘Perceive’ mechanic. I don’t know if it was easier in the DS version, but the extreme close ups make it very difficult to see what your meant to spot unless you already know where to look.

[mama-scarebear]

I absolutely adore sippy cups and do find them much easier to chug water from so I’d be even more indebted to your kindness. Being a trained dancer, I have exceptional control over my body including things like my bladder so it would shock me, to say the least, if it were to burst while I was rehearsing for you 😳 The panic that would fill my eyes as they searched you as for what to do next, unsure and completely thrown off kilter at what I had done and the mess I had just created. My pristine prima ballerina image literally down the toilet and soaked through my tights. My cheeks would flush and I would be surprised if you couldn’t feel the warmth from where you stood 🙈 No words dare to leave my lips as soft whimpers fall as tears stream from my eyes at the reality of what just occurred. A small gasp as you encourage me to perform, remembering what I’m to do next and straightening my spine to continue with my performance as the wetness spreads as I move. How ironic it would be to have my final position of the routine end up with me sitting pretty, in my own mess, tears having stained my cheeks, looking up at you with a smile 🩰

The best part is if you did a good job and finished your routine with only light prompting then you'd get a lovely reward. You'd get to experience my not so often seen soft side. Especially if you were sat in your puddle looking up at me sniffling back tears as you smile. I'd pick you up and gently carry you to the nursery where we get you changed out of your ruined outfit. The whole time I'd be sure to remind you that you're my little prima ballerina no matter what. Reminding you that you're very good at this and that these things happen. Once you're naked and shivering in front of me I'd of course have to wipe you down lingering just a tiny bit too long around your little princess parts. Then I'd get you into some pull-ups. Assuring you this doesn't make you less of a ballerina in fact it makes you even more of one! This way you can practice longer without fear of accidents. After all wasn't this one so humiliating? So utterly devastating to your ego? Best you just wear the pull-ups and be good. I'd redress you but this time I'd be sure to choose a very big tutu and some little fairy wings. You still look like a ballerina with the leotard and tights but you maybe one who's just starting out. Then I'd carry you back to the stage setting you down and cleaning it up before placing you back where you go to dance more. Watching as your once confident steps are now shaky and unsure. The pull-ups crinkling with every move, causing you to wince and get distracted. You know what though? That'll be the very best performance you've yet to put on. Mama will clap and cheer for you. Maybe one day when you're actually grown up you'll be a real ballerina. For now keep practicing my little sweetie.

[fromthedeskofmuffin]

Far Out

Chapter 7: More to Learn

Now that I was less distracted by everything new on the station, I noticed a few things I hadn't before on the way back to the medbay. Firstly, that I was drawing far more eyes than I liked. It could have been the fact that I was being pushed in a wheelchair by the very large owner of Brock Station, but I happened upon the real reason as we came to a junction in the walkways.

"Wait! Wait, stop! What is that?" I shouted, pointing to one of the information displays. Flashes of my own face were just barely visible through the crowd.

"Hm? Oh." Helga pulled up short, then pushed the wheelchair closer, so I could see. 

It was a wanted poster. For the return of the separatist Jessie Black, dead or alive, whoever brought me in would be given... something. The reward was blacked out, and the word 'Amnesty' was printed in large, red block letters over my face. My face... looked horrible. One eye covered by bandages, the other sunk deep, gaunt features, my short hair sticking out at all angles. It had probably been pulled from the cockpit feed when the Uthean recovery team found me. I realized I hadn't seen a mirror in a long time.

"Do... I look like that?" I asked, reaching out to touch the screen.

"Well, a litt— oof!" Helga began, but was cut off by a dull thump. I heard Dr. Skisk chitter reproachfully. "Okay, no, you don't look that bad. I’m sure it doesn’t feel good to see, but I had to make sure visiting bounty hunters knew what the score was with you. They won't try anything here."

"Are you sure?" I asked. "Aren't there like, pirates and stuff in the Frontier? I thought this place was lawless. Wouldn't anyone just do it anyway?"

"Some might elsewhere, but they know better than to try that with me," Helga said, turning the chair and setting off again. "They know how Brock Station works. If I give someone amnesty, that's the final word."

I thought about how angry she got earlier, and decided that she was probably right. Still, the looks I continued to get were making me nervous, so it was a relief when we made it back to the medbay. Once I was safely back in bed, and the various monitors were hooked up again, I voiced the question that had been in the back of my mind since I woke up. I had just been too scared of the answer.

"Dr. Skisk?"

The Vespian was double checking a monitor while Helga looked on. "Yezz?" 

"Is anyone going to be able to fix my legs?" I looked between them and Helga.

Dr. Skisk tugged an antenna in thought. "Yezz, Yezz, I tink zo. Z'ka..."

They said something in Vezek, and Helga nodded. "I'm going to translate for you," she said, looking to me. "It's a bit more complicated than the good doctor's Ulthean vocabulary can handle."

I nodded, and Dr. Skisk began their explanation. Through Helga's translation, I learned that my situation was not uncommon. What was uncommon about it was that I was a civilian, or at least relatively, as I had been a Navy mechanic. Either way, I was the first Ulthean civilian they had heard of to break out of Ulthea's borders. Given the drastic measures it required, I understood why. Ulthean soldiers deserted with some regularity, and certainly more success, due to their remote work and stressful conditions. The Frontier wasn't exactly full of them, but it was enough that some enterprising cybernetics engineers began to take note of a new brand of strange limb prosthetics that couldn't be removed without some serious effort and know-how. As a result, there were a few that decided to specialize in repairing them instead. 

The good news was that my legs could be restored to full functionality with a kind of surgery. It was a bit like disarming a bomb, except without the explosives. Crack open the shell, remove the signal blocker, seal it back up, and the limb would be like new. The complicated part was the synthetic muscles. I had been aware of them already, but now I learned that the signal blocker that kept them from working was implanted deep inside the fibers. It had taken Frontier cybernetics engineers more than a few tries to figure out how to remove it without destroying the limb completely, and even then, it wasn't always successful.

That was only partially the bad news. The rest of it was that — due to the low population of Ulthean escapees, and by that logic, prosthetics — there were very few Ulthean cybernetics specialists, and none currently living on Brock Station. It would be a month before anyone could get in contact with one, and likely up to six more until they could resolve what was already on their schedule and get to the station. 

I stared at my legs in disbelief. It had been so easy to take the prosthetics of Ulthea for granted. This miracle of technology, as simple as going to sleep and waking up with different limbs. PaliTech constantly advertised new styles, new gadgets, different ways to modify yourself. So normalized, that no one ever thought twice about entering any of their facilities for an update, or tune up, or to blow their whole paycheck on some gaudy status symbol. Now, they were even more of a burden then I had thought.

With a jolt, I realized Dr. Skisk and Helga had still been talking, and only the Blessed knew how long I hadn't been listening. My panicked look stopped them, however. 

"What?" Helga asked. "Isn't that good news?"

"Is what good news?" I asked, my eye darting between the two of them.

They shared a somewhat concerned look, one I had seen plenty of times before. I never liked it. "That we have robotic braces," Helga said. "So you can get around on your own. Are you feeling alright?"

I shook my head, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment. "No, I mean, yes, I'm fine, sorry. Um. Braces. Robotic braces?"

"Yeah," Helga said, still looking at me oddly. "I said, they're a frame you strap to your legs, and they read nerve signals to help with basic locomotion. Usually they're for heavy lifting jobs, but they function as mobile assistance in a pinch. You wouldn't be doing any running around, but at least you would be able to get to the bathroom by yourself. Dr. Skisk thinks you could possibly get back into zero gee work within a month of getting used to them."

"Oh!" I said, perking up a little. "Thank you! That's perfect! How soon can I get them?"

"Two week," said Dr. Skisk. "Ztill healing. Two week."

Two weeks. I took a deep breath and nodded. I could handle that. 

I couldn’t handle two days. Just the knowledge that there was something I could use to finally be mobile again — and that I couldn't use it for my own good — was killing me. There was nothing except a tablet full of icons and symbols I didn’t understand, and I was getting antsier every hour. By the second day, I was begging for Dr. Skisk to let me start using the robotic braces. Of course, they would always turn me down. This back and forth occurred every time they came by to check in on me, and when they left the room in the middle of one of our arguments, I hoped I had finally wore them down enough. After ten minutes, I began to worry that I had made them angry. Instead, an hour later, they returned with a box and another tablet.

"Benni zayz you reztlezz. Brain… data pulled from zhip. Need keep buzy. Here," they said, handing me the tablet and opening the box. The tablet had a list of what appeared to be the same newsfeeds, but they were translated to Ulthean. The box had a few puzzles inside, jigsaw and otherwise.

I hadn't expected Dr. Skisk to talk to Benni. It didn’t occur to me that Benni might even know other languages. Maybe I had been getting on Dr. Skisk’s nerves more than I thought. "Oh, thank you. I'm... I'm sorry. My mind just kind of goes crazy if I don't have anything to do. I shouldn’t have bothered you so much."

"Yezz, yezz, know, underztand," Dr. Skisk said. "Have patientz like you before. Took too long to recognize. Lan… Lank — k'rzackk — zpeech. barrier. unique problem, az well. Enjoy."

With that, they left the room.

I started with the tablet. Frontier newsfeeds were nothing like Ulthean ones, which fascinated me. In Ulthea, they mostly proclaimed major victories for the military, recited grand feats of the Seven Blessed (our leaders), and did highlights on high performing production worlds. There were also a lot of really interesting pieces on various new products coming from the seven companies and conglomerates that made everything we used.

In the Frontier, the news seemed to use much less exciting language, but that somehow made it more compelling. Plus, there were so many different ones to read from! Pirate attacks, reports on costs of goods in different spaceports, random interest pieces on whatever topic the writer was fixated on that day, it felt like it was endless. This was also where I began to truly realize how the rest of the galaxy viewed Ulthea.

It had been easy to shake off or ignore the comments Helga made, or the frustrated rambling of Dr. Skisk. What was harder to shake off was article after article of Ulthean invasions, unprovoked wars, and the desolation of planets stripped of all resources. The juxtaposition of my perception of the Ulthea I grew up in, to the Ulthea I was being shown felt like it was actively twisting my brain into knots. It made me physically ill. I began to actively avoid any articles that brought it up, with the justification that stress was antithetical to healing. Besides, I was just a civilian. None of this was my fault. The fact that I had been repairing the military's ships stuck in my mind as a cognitive dissonance that I desperately needed to ignore.

None of that helped, of course. I couldn't stop thinking about Ulthea, and my mind finally drifted back to Nate. There was a sudden pang of guilt at the realization that I hadn't thought of him once since I escaped over two weeks ago. We had been incredibly close. Once or twice we even joked about dating, but it never happened. Outside of work, we hung out all the time, and regularly shared meals in the canteen, even if it wasn't entirely allowed. They said he had been detained for retraining. Had he been on the station when Benni and I destroyed it, or had they already taken him elsewhere? 

If there was any information on him, Ulthea kept it inside their borders. I wouldn’t find out by simply reading articles. Sleep didn’t come easy that night, but it came regardless.

< Previous Chapter | Start | Next Chapter >