#experimental piece nothing too serious

[cinnamonbvnxx]

heavens above

[fushiglow]

Hello glow!!! Thank you for another lovely satosugu work! :)

I absolutely love how real and tangible your writing is - seeing them start with different states of being turned on and building together really paints such a lovely picture of what intimacy is without the expectation of a perfect start-stop :) 3 cheers to realistic sexual dynamics!

Also, I think that your link at the end of your post goes to Violent Delights instead - but maybe that's just an issue on my end!

Thank you so much for this lovely feedback (and the heads up about the link), I can't tell you how much your words cheered me on Friday! They came at a time I really needed to hear them so, if you don't mind, I'm going to use this ask as an opportunity to say a few things about my writing and why I do what I do — no obligation to respond!

Quite honestly, I have been feeling a little anxious about how I'm perceived as a writer recently. When Over the Threshold started gathering some steam in January, I only had five published works on AO3 posted over the course of six months. By the end of August, I'll have 18 published works for Jujutsu Kaisen, 16 of which will be complete. I have never been this productive in a fandom before!

A lot of the reason for that is because I'm finally learning how to work with my AuDHD brain. I love writing, I really do, and I'm constantly excited by the possibilities that reside within my brain. I have more ideas than I have time or hands to write them, but I want to explore as many of those ideas as possible. In the past, I would have forced myself to stick to the thing that I was "supposed" to write, rather than following the burst of inspiration and writing the thing that I "wanted" to write. To no one's surprise, that usually meant I ended up writing nothing at all.

I'm someone who seeks out challenges, and all the fics I've published in 2024 have been experimental in some way. Come Get Your Honey was a challenge in extended metaphor. Balance was a challenge in seamlessly blending two very different universes. Mailman AU was a challenge in format. Violent Delights was a challenge in pushing myself to new and uncomfortable places. Thunder was a challenge in encapsulating an entire world and history within a single motif without ever actually seeing that world and history.

I'm really proud of every single one of those works, as well as the speed I've written them at. I've published 92k words on AO3 already this year and written far more, so I feel like I can no longer justifiably call myself a slow writer. However, all the works mentioned above have artistic merit in the more traditional sense — i.e. they're not smut.

At the time of writing this, three of my five most recent works contain sexual content with varying degrees of explicitness, and it's hard to escape that pervasive (and flawed) idea that smut is "less serious" as a form of writing. Even writing smut in the first place has been a slow process of overcoming some of my own biases. However, sex is part of the spectrum of human experiences, and it's also deeply political. Whenever I explore it in my writing, you can be sure that I always have that at the forefront of my mind. That's why these works, too, have represented something new and challenging and exciting for me.

Discreet Delivery was the first piece containing explicit sexual content that I ever shared publicly and, with how rife top/bottom discourse is in this fandom (most of which is based on heteronormative ideals that I vehemently disagree with), I really wanted to make a statement straight out of the gate. I'm very proud of how I managed to weave a switch/vers narrative into a oneshot, and the feedback on it was wonderful.

Headroom, however, presented a very different kind of challenge. It was extremely difficult to write, because it doesn't follow the beats of a traditional sex scene. There's no satisfaction for Satoru nor for the readers, and that made it tricky to keep it engaging. I was also very nervous about showing a different side of these beloved AU characters and establishing a new dynamic between them while incorporating some of the broader themes from Over the Threshold.

Finally, Tell Me I'm Pretty was pure subversion, writing Suguru in particular in a way I've never seen before to challenge expectations about "roles" in sex. It meant I had no blueprint to work from, but I'm not interested in reproducing the same dynamics I've read a thousand times. However, that also means that I felt very anxious about how people would receive this fic — especially on GeGo Day.

The truth is, everything I write I write for myself first and foremost, but it's hard to keep sight of that when you're blessed with an engaged audience. This is a huge reason why updates to Over the Threshold take time. This fic is deeply important and deeply personal to me, but its growing popularity adds a pressure that I don't want to influence my writing. I feel a constant underlying need to outdo myself with every new fic and chapter I post, but that's unrealistic and unachievable.

Obviously, I want readers to enjoy what I write, but I know the moment I start writing for other people is the moment my writing suffers. That's the main reason why I'm reluctant to put anything behind a paywall, even if I feel frustrated with the way fanfics are casually consumed on the internet. Readers occasionally make demands of me without any respect for my time and effort and creative vision, and sometimes I look at what I've written and think, "Am I really going to give that away for free?". However, asking for anything beyond tips would change the game for me. Enjoying my writing is far more valuable to me, at least at this point in time.

All of this is to say: I really loved writing Tell Me I'm Pretty. I had a blast with it — until it came time to post, at which point I suddenly felt full of self-doubt. For you to appear in my inbox and tell me that you appreciated the realism of the intimacy in this fic? I couldn't have asked for anything more, thank you so much ♥️

TL;DR, I write for myself, but god, it's the best feeling in the world when readers resonate with my writing. I can't tell you how much I appreciate you taking the time to let me know. I love you all to the moon and back!

[fatuismooches]

(About the Dottore sugar tax)

I like to imagine that some members of the Fatui are very discreet in handing out the sweets.

Oh, one of their comrades is getting a scolding and it looks like it's escalating? Quick! Sneak a sweet nearby that the Lord Harbinger could spot easily!

And what happens is that mid-rant, the segment would glance just a little to the side behind the researcher and he sees - what the fuck?? Why is there a Charcoal-Baked Ajilenakh Cake on the desk??? How? When???

And he just gets so confused that he kinda momentarily short-circuits

The Fatui can't keep using the sweets tactics too often tho, they might accidentally pavlov their lord into hating sweets if he keeps receiving them when he's angry!

It happened with Omega already, he scowled at the Fatui Skirmisher and demanded if the agent thought of him as a dog that could be placated with a mere treat. Yeah that guy is dead now.

And of course the segments start to get suspicious by the sixth incident of receiving a sweet out of nowhere.

Zandik is baffled, because somehow everyone and their damn mother knows he has a sweet tooth and he is convinced that Pantalone has something to do with it (probably the ninth trying to gain his favour for a new gadget to sell)

Reader: sweating in the background.

Wait no I got pavlov's experiment mixed up: It would be more accurate to say that since Dottore keeps receiving sweets when he's angry - he starts to subconsciously expect sweets when he's frustrated. Which is even funnier because imagine how confused he'd be. He's stressing about failed results, why is he salivating???

OH MY GOSH... THIS IS LIKE THE FUNNIEST AND CUTEST THING EVER AHH!! When you work for someone such as Il Dottore, it is important to stick together with your fellow co-workers. Because you never know what will happen. And also, you don't really want to be carrying your new friend's dead body to the experimentation room. So it's important to look out for each other every now and then. This includes distracting the Harbinger's attention in any way possible from the target of his assault. Even if it means sneaking sweets into the lab. Yes, it is truly terrifying work, but it is necessary, especially when you were so kind to bestow this protection upon them.

THE WHOLE ASS CHARCOAL CAKE IS WHAT MAKES ME DIE... 😭 Was he really so caught up in his ranting that he didn't notice it? Actually, never mind that, how did they know he likes sweets, much less prefers Sumerian sweets compared to any other nation? All the agents have the exact same poker face, betraying absolutely nothing, for their lives are genuinely on the line right now. It was all riding on this Charcoal-Baked Ajilenakh Cake. Yes, this was 100% serious.

Ugh... if i was a regular agent think i'd rather die than present the OMEGA segment of all a piece of candy. The courage it'd take is insane. But oops. The other agents knew from that day they needed to be more careful with their tactics... yes, they have to add this to the handbook now. 😭 I imagine, the method begins to be used sparsely because the segments are not going to let their reputation be dumbed down to the guys who can be won over by mere sweets. Nope, not happening, they should be feared! Not known to the Fatui as being a sweets lover! So subduing the segments with sweets only happens on very violent days. Or if you happen to be in the room, you'll happily take the sweets offered by the agents and share them with the segment to make him calm down.

EBWKBEWEW DOTTORE BLAMING PANTALONE FOR ALL HIS PROBLEMS!! 😭 ah he would, despite how smart he is, it just completely slips his mind that you could have done this as well. Oh well! You just hope he doesn't find out! *nervous sweating intensifies*

Teehee him stressing not only over his failed results but his sudden urge to devour some sweets... it's really annoying for him though, usually, he ignores his growling stomach for a long time but, the taste of sweets is just haunting him and his tastebuds.

Maybe if he asks you, you can make some that lasts a few days... because at this rate, he expects to be thinking about sweets for a while with how poorly his experiments are going.

[sirowsky]

The Flowers Always Know

Chapter 20 - But You Were Never Normal

Description: After receiving some extremely unexpected news, you were suddenly forced to confront certain things from your past.

**Beware! Author chooses NOT to display warnings on the individual chapters of this story. Read at your own risk!**

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Word Count: 3859 (2263 words added) Masterlist (this story)

   Over the next two days, your mood consistently got progressively worse.    As your strength returned, you were allowed to move around freely, but you weren’t allowed to leave the med-chamber until you’d completed a full assessment of your abilities.    And because of how quickly your powers drained you, the Science Department wouldn’t agree to do that until they’d come up with an acceptable alternative to regular foods.

   Which meant that people were constantly running in and out with pieces of experimental nutritional little cubes they wanted you to try, not to check if they were actually edible, just whether or not they had the intended effect. Flavour and texture would be added later, so it was basically like chewing cardboard.    On top of that, you were still struggling with the fact that you were lying to Marcus, getting more and more anxious for some answers so you could go ahead and tell him everything.

   And to make matters worse, Missy was allowed to visit you as much as she wanted but your partner was kept on a strict once-a-day regimen, and only with staff present, courtesy of your continued inability to keep your hands off each other.    It felt a bit excessive, but you’d accepted that things needed to be like this for the time being, since the two of you weren’t exactly harmless together.

   Over the weekend he’d opted to just bring Missy during his “visitation”, where the three of you had hung out for a few hours, and it was the only thing keeping you from going stir crazy with the isolation.    Your doctor was much more lenient about him being there while Missy was present, and especially since Amaire took turns watching you, so you were never alone. But being confined to one room and not getting to chose when you wanted company, or from who, was starting to feel a lot like a prison.

   But on Monday, Marcus showed up without his daughter, and the moment he walked through the doors, you could tell he wanted to talk about something important, or unpleasant. There was a hard set to his jaw and a slight hesitation in his stride.    And since you were already in a mood, after having about a dozen cardboard cubes shoved down your throat before dinner, none of which had produced the desired results, you weren’t looking forward to any serious talks.

   “What is it?” you snapped before he’d had a chance to say anything, and your tone was unfriendly enough that it made him stop and tilt his head to the side, with a mildly shocked huff.

   “Well, hello. How are you today? I’m fine, thank you for asking,” he shot back with a hefty dose of sarcasm, and although there was a laugh brewing somewhere in the back of his throat, it did nothing to lift your spirits.

   “I’m so not in the mood, babe,” you cautioned, sharply enough that he knew not to try and push any buttons. “Just tell me.”

   But he didn’t start talking right away. Instead, he crossed his arms over his chest and took a little stroll through the room.    You’d been pacing when he first walked in, but stopped to find out what he wanted, and now he was the one who didn’t seem to be able to stay still.

   “Um… I got an e-mail last night, from an address I didn’t know, and they were asking about you. So, I looked into it, wanting to make sure it wasn’t anything potentially dangerous,” he finally started, while coming to a stop next to the bed, on the opposite side to where you were standing.

   “Okay…” you said after he’d paused for a little too long, hoping to spur him into explaining further, but he still hesitated.

   It was extremely rare for this man to ever be fidgety, so seeing him like this, constantly looking for something to busy his hands with, whether it be your sheets or one of the machines attached to the bed, made you seriously nervous.

   “Well, it turns out… the e-mail is from your brother. Daniel.”

   You flinched so hard that it offset your balance and made you take a step back.    Of all the people you’d heard say that name, a part of you had hoped to never have to hear it from Marcus’ lips. A part of you had hoped he’d be kept safe from that darkness forever.

   “Fuck,” you breathed, abruptly more nervous than your partner.

   You started pacing again, unknowingly wringing your hands and running your fingers over the scars which were no longer there on your abdomen.    It had been a bad day from the start, but this was somehow the worst thing that could possibly have happened, turning it from bad to horrendous in one sentence.

   “Hermosa?” he tried, hoping to get your attention, but your mind was already a thousand miles away, swirling back towards memories you wanted anything but to revisit.

   Danny had no right to ask you for anything, ever. It didn’t matter why he’d reached out, or how he’d even known he could find you through Marcus, you weren’t going to listen to anything he had to say.

   “He wanted to kno-…”

   “Shut up!” you almost screamed at your partner, who jumped involuntarily at the unexpected panic in your voice. “Sorry… I’m so sorry, I just… I don’t wanna know. Don’t tell me.”

   Turning away from him, you continued pacing, faster and faster, from one wall to the next, trying desperately to keep the flood of images out of your head.

   “What the hell did he do to you?” Marcus wondered quietly but with emphasis, unaware that the question sparked a giant surge of memories, not one of which would allow itself to be bottled back up.

   You closed your eyes against them, but once they started, they kept coming. They always did. Except this time, there were new parts of you reacting to what you were experiencing, and those reactions stood in direct proportion to the severity of the memories.    The last time you’d fallen into this pit of despair it had made you curl into a foetal position on your boyfriend’s lap. Now, it flooded the room with your shield, hopelessly trying to protect yourself against the past.

   It was so powerful it sent the bed careening into the opposite wall, forcing Marcus to quickly jump on top of it to avoid being crushed by it.    One of the twins was in the room, as always, and she had to duck and take cover under the desk when equipment came flying at her, hard enough to shatter against the walls, or leave big dents in them.

   “Okay, honey, I think you need to take a breath now,” she hurriedly suggested, but you barely even heard her.

   You were trapped by the reality of what had happened to you, and there was no way out. You’d always had to go through the flood to free yourself of it. Trying to avoid it had never worked.    Marcus scrambled off the bed the moment it came to a stop, so he was already on his way to you when Amaire spoke.    Once he reached you, he took your face in his hands and kissed you, softly and lovingly enough that it managed to break through the surge and let you come back to him.

   “Sweetheart are you with me?” he asked, and he sounded so scared for you.

   “Yeah, I’m here…” you managed in between strained breaths, shaking like a leaf while he repositioned his hands to your upper arms, making sure you met his eyes so he could see that you really were back in the room before he pulled you into a hug.

   But he couldn’t see or feel how much of your shield was still floating around you, filling the room with its strange density, and reminding you that you were still guarding yourself, which meant you didn’t feel safe yet.

   “Please, talk to me,” he begged, and he was in tears now, you could hear it in his voice. “Whatever this is, it has so much control over you… It’s never gonna let you go until you talk about it.”

   “I have talked about it. Just not to you,” you returned, verging on tears now yourself. “Not you. I don’t want this to touch you.”

   “But it already is. It hurts you, and therefore it hurts me. You know that,” he persisted, and you knew he was right, but it still felt wrong to put something so awful in his head.

   “Fuck. I hate this…” you cried, so ambiguous about the whole thing, it was making your head hurt.

   Of all the bad days you’d had in the past six months, this one was turning out to be one of the worst, just from the sheer weight of the past. It almost felt like a living thing, doing its damnedest to crush you and everyone you loved, for no other reason than that it could.

   “Let me tell you what the e-mail said,” Marcus kept going, apparently determined not to let this go, “and then you can decide if you wanna elaborate.”

   You thought about it for a minute. There were any number of reasons why Danny would try and contact you, but not one of them would be of any benefit to you. Such a thing simply wasn’t possible.    The main reasons you imagined were either him asking for your forgiveness, or more likely, needing money, neither of which you had any interest in giving him.

   “Fine,” you eventually agreed, not because you wanted to know, but because it dawned on you as you stood there in your partner’s arms, that he was the one who was being hurt worst by all this, and you couldn’t let that continue.

   He pulled back just enough that he could look at you, and he looked so pained it made you wish your family had never existed, just to spare him all this shit.

   “He wanted me to deliver a message to you… from your mother,” he started, and the sudden hatred which flooded your blood was so strong it made you jerk out of his arms and step back, so you wouldn’t accidentally harm him. “She, uh… is hospitalized and dying, and she wants to see you.”

   You froze. For what felt like minutes your body wouldn’t move with the shock you experienced in that moment. But inside, you were boiling.

   “Those sons of bitches… Those motherfucking sons of bitches!” you all but screamed, well and truly done with all of it.

   If your brother was a sore spot on your mind, your mother might as well have been a tumour in your brain.    In your thirty odd years of life, you’d gone through phases of desperately wanting to love her, pitying her, truly hating her, and finally just not able to care anymore. She was the fucking devil, as far as you were concerned, and she had long since lost the right to call herself your family.

   The fact that she would even attempt to reconnect with you after everything she’d done sparked a fury within your heart the likes of which you’d never known.    But it was a dark and horrible rage, bringing out the very worst parts of you, so when the floor, ceiling and walls all buckled as your power crammed even more energy into the room, you didn’t even realize that if you kept going, you could end up killing the people in there with you.

   All you could see, all you could hear were the memories, burning through you like a wildfire being whipped by a gale force wind. And all you wanted was to let it all burn.    Until Marcus’ hands fell heavy onto your shoulders, reminding you of where you were and what was actually happening. But your power didn’t deactivate, because suddenly you needed him to know.

   You’d tried to protect him from this for as long as you’d known him, but now, for the first time, it dawned on you how wrong you’d been. You should’ve told him from the start, not due to any difference it would’ve made to the power the memories had over you, but simply because it was these moments, these horrible moments, which had built you.    And despite all the pain and fear, they hadn’t managed to blacken your heart or turn you cold or uncaring.

   These memories were the ultimate testament to your character, and the man who loved you deserved to know them.

   You weren’t sure how, but experimenting with and manipulating the unknown energy you had access to, you managed to bring colour and texture into the unseen atmosphere of the room. As if merely a thin veil sat between your power and the air around you.    And like a stroke of magic, the images inside your eyes were suddenly playing out before all eyes present, as though there were a dozen little movie screens in there.

   Marcus let go of you, turning in circles as he tried to understand what he was seeing, as well as keep up with the story as your memories weren’t appearing in a linear order.    Each one played on repeat on its own little screen, but once he’d seen them all, the story came together by itself.    Amaire was still huddled underneath the desk, but you could hear her reactions as she too managed to work out your story.

   --The happiness you’d had in your life while your father had been alive. The wisdom, joy and sense of adventure he’d poured into your soul--

   --The moment you’d found out he’d died--

   --The day you’d buried him and said goodbye to happiness--

   --Your mother’s abuse, starting the day of the funeral and only getting worse as the years passed, blaming both of you for her inability to find a new man because you’d ruined her perfect body--

   --Trying so hard to protect the two-year younger Danny, antagonizing her so she’d focus on you and let him slip away while you took the beatings and the degradation--

   --Remaining loyal to the family when teachers questioned your wounds and bruises. Lying and evading their prodding because you knew she’d only get worse if she felt threatened--  

   --Trying to keep Danny away from the bad kids he started hanging around. The drugs and the guns and the violence, drawing him in with the promise of one day being able to exact revenge--

   --Protecting your mother from Danny once he’d tipped over the edge of what he could take, only to have her turn around and abandon you--

   --Trying to protect yourself from Danny when he started using you as a surrogate for your mother--

   --Calling the cops on him after he almost choked you to death, only to have him scream the same vile and horrible things at you as she had, even as they dragged him away--

   --Crawling over the kitchen floor, reaching the house phone and managing to call an ambulance just before you lost consciousness, after he’d stabbed you eight times in the chest and abdomen and left you for dead--

   --Defending yourself when he’d tried again, and then calling an ambulance for him--

   --Going to see him at the hospital, saying goodbye and then leaving town, walking away from that life for good--

   The images faded away as your strength failed, and just before your legs gave out, Marcus reached you, but sort of fell with you, landing you both in a pile on the floor in the middle of the room.    You were so tired, but you stubbornly stayed awake for him, because you could see a sorrow in his eyes you couldn’t compare to anything you’d ever seen before. He seemed to be holding on to you as much as he was trying to just hold you, while he cried as hard with you as he did for you.

   Over his shoulder, you could see Amaire sitting on the floor, holding onto one of the legs of the desk, as if she’d needed to ground herself while watching the memories.    She was a mother, and your friend, so seeing something like this must’ve rocked her to her core, as it would any decent person. You knew her and her sister well enough to know that theirs had been a loving, safe home, so she could only imagine the pain and fear you’d lived with. But she was also incredibly empathetic, so that imagination could take her quite far.

   All that aside, she was a professional caregiver. She’d seen and experienced a lot, and therefor knew how to compartmentalize when she was on the clock.    So, after a few minutes, when people appeared on the other side of the buckled and broken doors, she got up, wiped the tears away and went back to work.    There was noise and shouting as they worked to get through, but eventually Crushing Low was called in to simply rip the doors down, since they were beyond all hope of salvaging.

   Still, even after they’d gained access to the room again, no one approached you or Marcus, not even any doctors.    You suspected you’d have to thank Amaire for that later, since no one else could’ve convinced both the Medical and Science departments to leave their newest project alone after such a significant event.

   There was no telling how much time had passed when the tears finally started ebbing out and you and Marcus began to let go of one another, finding the room around you empty. It felt like a long time, though, and you were only more drained as a result.    But while you had started feeling better almost immediately after the flood of images had ended, your partner was the one who’d needed time to process, and you’d felt very strongly that you couldn’t have asked him to put his feelings on hold simply because you were tired.

   “I get it. I understand why you didn’t want me to know,” he finally croaked, with a voice made hoarse and raspy after so many tears.

   “Nothing good comes from it. All it’s ever done is taint the way people look at me, with pity or sorrow, making me feel like some broken trinket,” you admitted, and he immediately objected, just like you knew he would.

   “No, you’re not broken. If anything, this proves you’re practically unbreakable…”

   “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, because I realize now that I always knew you’d see it that way. I knew you wouldn’t treat me any different, I just… needed to believe it before I could take the risk.”

   “It’s okay, I understand,” he reassured you, putting a warm hand on your cheek for a moment.

   “I left it behind,” you continued, needing him to hear everything you’d wanted to tell him from the very beginning. “I know it doesn’t seem like it because of how I react to the memories, but I did. Especially after Prince. Because his so-called treatments healed all my scars from those days, helping me to let go of them.    Falling in love with you is what brought these strong reactions to the memories back, but only because of how different I am with you. Because where I used walls and shields to keep everyone out before, you make me want to share everything with you, and that’s really fucking scary at first.”

   “Of course… I can only imagine. You’re so brave to let me come so close to the things that scare you the most.”

   “I’m sorry that I needed you to see it, I know those images will never leave you.”

   “Don’t worry about it, I can take it. So long as I know you’re still with me, there’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t recover from,” he smiled softly, but then something worrisome stole the comforting warmth from his eyes. “I see now why my actions after the prison hurt you so badly.    I left you alone with all that pain and fear… just like she did.”

   “Yeah. But if I’d told you about it sooner, you might’ve acted differently, so let’s not get caught up in blame.    You’ve earned my trust back, and my love was never in question. We made mistakes and we’ve learned from them, all we can do now is move on, right?” you posed, and it brought his smile back.

   “Thank you, Hermosa.”

   You leaned your forehead against his and just sat there for a minute in comfortable silence, absorbing the new understanding you had for each other now.    Until he decided you couldn’t put off the reality of what had brought you to this point, anymore.

   “So, I guess the only thing we have left to sort out, is the e-mail,” he sighed, and you mirrored him.

   “Last I knew, he wasn’t any closer to her than I was, so I don’t know why he’d even care if she really is dying. He was only fifteen when she bailed. Although I suppose it’s possible that the hospital reached out to him.    I changed my name and scrubbed all records of my relation to them, but he never did, so they might’ve been able to track him down. But why he’d agree to do anything on her behalf, I can’t even guess at.”

   You shook your head with equal parts confusion and fatigue, truly starting to feel the drain on your energy reserves now.

   “Maybe in his own way, he’s still looking for her approval,” Marcus suggested, and while it did sound plausible considering the person you were talking about, the places your thoughts went with that idea told you it was time to leave this subject, and not let your screwed-up family steal any more of your energy.

   “You know what? It doesn’t matter. I’m not interested in meeting either of them. I don’t owe them a god damned thing,” you firmly stated, meaning every word.

   “Good,” your partner approved with a little smile. “Then I think we should get some food into you before you pass out, mama bear.”

   “Hey, she hasn’t even growled yet,” you played along, because it was nice to return to some light-hearted banter after so much heaviness.

   “I know, but she will,” he hummed with amusement while getting up from the floor and then pulling you to your feet.

   Which was good, since your legs were so weak they barely held your weight. And just when you started heading for the broken door, as if on cue, your stomach growled, much to Marcus’ delight.

   “Don’t say it,” you cautioned, although without any actual warning in your voice.

   He apparently decided you’d been through enough for one day, and just smiled wider before he kissed you. The kind of kiss which wasn’t long or passionate, but still told you that he’d be there tomorrow, and next week, and next year. No matter how much weird shit or painful drama you threw at him.

[oldmanffucker]

In my ceramics au, everyone is an artist (stede just bought an art gallery he knows nothing abt running and all his staff are artists and they have staff bonding at Queen Anne clay happy hour one night and this is how stede meets Ed and Izzy) I’m still working through my thoughts abt everyone’s artistic qualities etc but I wanna lay out my artist thought so far:

Jim: experimental contemporary jewelry (pushing the limits of what jewelry is/can be, experimenting with the thwarting facial recognition, and ideas of beauty)

Swede: tooth jewelry

Wee John: fiber artist and handpoke tattooer

Fang: whimsical playful functional pottery (doesn’t necessarily have to be function but often happens to be)

CJ: kitschy crude humor pottery

Stede: handbuilt/slab built ceramics - functional work that has a main focus on formal beauty. Pieces that serve a function but are intentionally made beautiful/ornate enough to stand their own as sculptures too

Ed & Izzy in the present run a pottery business that focuses on production pottery (large scale creation of identical pieces for being sold in stores etc). They make pipes that look like other things (food/objects), mugs/bowls/plates/pour overs that have some splashes of whimsy in a color choice or pattern or shape but are overall not terribly complicated. They are unique tho. they also have the Queen Anne clay storefront that has classes like happy hour clay classes, kids classes etc.

Neither of them focus too terribly much on their own personal art but sculptural non functional personal ceramic work blooms from each of them throughout the fic as stede encourages them to explore things beyond their business/actually feel their feelings.

In college they both were like way into performance art. Ed kinda for fun and bc he loved the physical exertion of it, but Izzy was 100% serious, putting his entire being into every performance for better or for worse. They egged each other on to bigger and bigger pieces and we’re very Marina and Ulay coded. Jack thought it was all stupid and just liked to join in bc he thought it was funny and hot to slap each other for long stretches of time but izzy was frustrated bc he didn’t get it.

Ed’s college art was more multi media (bc adhd yk) but was big on painting as a throughline. His work was big and messy and loud. He liked word working and sculpture and linocut printmaking.

There’s so much more but it would be a multiple page essay if I laid it all out rn.

Buttons: the QAC kiln tech. Loves to sculpt birds from clay.

Frenchie would of course be heavily focused on music but I haven’t settled all the details yet.

Roach obviously food based but again, not all ironed out.

Lucius: drawing, life drawing classes, focus on sensuality, queerness, the body, love

Pete: life model, wood working

Still thinking on the rest.

[litrumi]

Excerpt: Chapter 6 - "A Drop of Light in The Night" (Catnap X Dogday)

(Basically, it's about time I stop shitposting every day and maybe actually stick a little bit to my, you know, actual in-progress fanfic? So, why not tease a bit to the uninitiated that don't have any clue what's going on with it right now. After all, I'm like 80% done with Chapter 7 now. I hope I stick to it! This is the most I've done for a fanfic yet. Regardless...)

(Here's a piece of it, even though the full chapter's already published. VAGUE Spoilers that take place right in the middle of a particular conflict with our main duo. But Catnap isn't giving up! He's ready to get to the bottom of this! Also the music I was listening to when writing it is linked, but alsooo... an alternate song I think fits as well that I plan to use later is here too. Enjoy!)

Italics = Personal thoughts

"Quotes" = Verbal talking

-

...

AHHH! NO WAY! Now, it was my turn to have my world shaken. My face was stricken with wide eyes and a jaw-dropping expression from the realization.

Dogday is also caught by surprise from my reaction.

Are you serious?! Is that really why? But it's the only thing that makes sense! You've gotta be kidding me! Why would he...?!

"Uh... Catnap?" Dogday looks perplexed. "You okay there?"

I shake my head vigorously to snap out of it. I turn my attention to the confused pup.

This is absolutely insane! But I might just have an answer for him after all. It's not proof that I'll be able to show him, but there's no way he'd be able to deny this wild guess if it's true!

"Dogday..." I start. "As I've mentioned, Crafty told me about what you had been doing a lot of in these last three days. You've been in bed, trying to get quite a lot of sleep."

"That's right, you've said that already," He looks off to the side. "And?"

"By any chance, were you trying to sleep on purpose?"

"On purpose?" He looks nervous, starting to sweat. "N- No! Why would I be doing that on purpose?!"

"You had a goal in mind," I think about it carefully. "Something you wanted to do that could only, specifically, be done by sleeping."

"I- I need a reason to sleep?" He looks at me, completely flabbergasted. "Are you pulling my leg right now? There's nothing crazy about me wanting to sleep in my own bed!"

I slam my hands on the table. "Don't lie, Dogday! I already know why you were doing it!" I kind of don't, but this is the only chance I've got! Forget the details for now, just go with your gut!

I take a deep breath to gather my thoughts.

"The reason you've been trying so hard to go to sleep is because...!"

-

(Well, the story offers hints if you don't catch on by the end of the mystery. So, even if you don't figure it out yourself, Catnap will guide you along the way! There's no pressure!)

(Also, what reason could Dogday possibly have for trying to sleep THAT much? Right and wrong answers, thank you.)

(This chapter is, well, literally as someone else commented... "is basically Ace Attorney." It was kind of an experimental chapter. Not something that'll happen often, mind you. But I'm okay with it now.)

(If you wanna learn more, I've linked it at the top to "in-progress fanfic." So... there ya go!)

(Take care! Thanks for reading!)

[thesalemwitchtries]

Dreaming Of a Grave: Chapter Six

Word Count: 3,926

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Named! Fem! Enhanced! Reader

Warnings: Canon typical violence, fire and explosion (duh), gun-use and police presence, blood and injury to reader character, social anxiety spiral and shock, some past trauma and PTSD, being chased and anti-robot violence

Taglist: @reblog-reblog666

Masterlist

Wish I could say that I won a bet with how many series commas I use in this chapter, but no I just am like that (clunky list lover)

Thank you so much for your patience with this update, the next will be longer and out in a week (if I can wait that long) My birthday is next week as well, and I'm looking to do something here to celebrate, so lmk if there are any pieces you want to see or questions you want answered!

Any comments or feedback are much appreciated!

Charlie initiated Triage’s boot-up sequence, then shut his casing and sat back on her heels to wait. His internal lighting warmed and began to glow through his reinforced vinyl ‘skin’, limbs rotating experimentally. 

Digital eyes had just blinked to life when the ground began to shake, growing from a tremor to a rumble. There were only a few seconds for Charlie to wonder what was causing it before the wall beside her exploded.

A wave of heat blew through the shattered windows, tossing Char from a crouched position onto her side. Limp as a ragdoll and blanketed with pain, broken glass, and a burning so intense that she patted at her sides and legs just to assure she wasn’t on fire.

Something was sticking out of her thigh, a potted plant had caught her in the temple, and there were small cuts all over; but nothing too serious it couldn’t be dealt with alone. Rolling onto her back, she dug the earmuffs out; ringing silence replaced with a roar of chaos. Crackling fire, echoing explosions, and shouts from around the building.

Triage leaned over her, running efficiently through his emergency response sequence, but she couldn’t focus on that. 

What the hell just happened?

It took two tries to get shaky arms under her and prop up, discovering a thin slice across her left palm in the process. Sitting on her knees, her lips trembling at the sight.

Where her windows used to be was now a large hole, the grilles twisted and bent inward. Drywall and potting soil rained down throughout the room. Igor rolled around to put out the small fires as fast as he could. The casing she’d just repaired dented and scratched again. Debris was everywhere, along with the smell of smoke and burning couch foam.

Triage waved a hand in her face, having been unable to get a response. Suddenly everything seemed quieter, her eyes focusing on the ash-smeared bot crouched before her.

“You are displaying signs of shock.” Triage informed, with his perpetually cheerful calm.

Charlie scoffed, “Yeah, no kidding, Tree.”

“Correct, I am not kidding.”

“No, it’s…” she took a deep breath. “Nevermind, what’s the rest of it?”

Triage’s head tilted to scan over her again, his processors whirring softly. Really she needed to be running tests to see how the updated chip was applying in practice. The night wasn't looking like she’d get to those any time soon. 

“You have sustained a blow to the head, but you are not concussed. There are several minor abrasions across your body. Most concerning is the puncture wound on your thigh. It is not so deep as to require professional aid, but I must recommend a tetanus shot in the next 48 hours.”

She ran her hand over her forehead, wincing as it tugged at the split skin above her eyebrow, dirt shaking loose. Blowing a full breath out of her lungs. First things first.

A jagged piece of the window grille stuck out of her thigh, it hurt like hell but Tree was right: it wasn’t deep. She pulled the bloody fabric of her loose linen pants, one of her favorites, away from the edge of the puncture. None of the fibers seemed to be caught in it, and she allowed Triage to begin his work.

“Igor?” she called out tentatively, listening for the tread of his tires. All of the fires were snuffed, but knowing him the little bot would decide vacuuming was the next priority.

“Yes?” He responded, almost running over her hand before he skidded to a stop at her hip.

She briefly took the time to be grateful that his speech hadn’t been damaged again, once was enough. Looking back down into his eyes, she almost started to cry some more and not just because Tree was jostling her leg with his disinfecting. Why were things always breaking around her?

“Could you please find Garbanzo and get him into the bathroom with his food and water?” She asked, running her fingers gently over his head. Avoiding the dent there as if it were a real wound. “Then go and see if any of our neighbors need help with fire-extinguishing.”

“Kitty is hiding.” Igor said, a little smug. “Being a scaredy-cat.”

“Well since you’re being brave, it’d be a big help if you could make sure that he doesn’t run off anywhere.”

Igor made a noise that was almost a huff, but rolled away to do what she asked, clicking for the cat’s attention. So that was taken care of, what was she supposed to do next? She could hear the police already outside, meaning she didn’t have to call. 

Fuck, was someone going to come and ask for a statement, what would she say? 

Maybe there was some kind of procedure that you had to follow, one that everyone else had learned in school. No one ever talked about it because you were just expected to know and she didn’t know and everyone would see how weird that was.

Maybe weird enough to make her a suspect. Enough to make them think twice about trusting her; maybe even weird enough for people to talk and others to come around asking questions.

Oh god, what was she supposed to do in the morning? Throw out all of the now-ruined things that she loves so much, and then… 

A quick jolt followed by a searing flash of pain interrupted her frantic conjecturing. If Tree had warned her that he was about to pull a scrap of metal out of her leg, obviously she had missed it. 

“Fuck,” she shouted, hissing in a sharp breath after.

The pressure he applied to staunch the bleeding forced a deep groan out from between her teeth. One full breath in, just so she could slowly let it out, now longer able to ignore the dust lining her dry mouth. Another breath, taking note of her pulse and soothing her thoughts.

What would happen tomorrow morning? The sun would rise, she’d wake up and clean, fix what she could and decide from there. Maybe she would buy new plants or a new apartment, or just take a nap.

Leaving later for later would be okay, there’d be time. Right now… well she still wasn’t sure what to do right now. 

Standing up seemed like a good start, with her leg all clean and bandaged. She carefully stepped over to the door, slipping on thick boots to protect her feet until she could sweep up. Okay, now she was out of ideas.

Triage hovered by the blown-out window, scanner aimed down to the pavement. She noticed the whir of his mind as he stood, a weighty pause as data and decisions ran through his engines. It was beautiful to watch, inspiring an almost motherly feeling in her chest.

A few years ago he was limited to actions that she chose for him, a strict situational algorithm. Now he’d grown so much that he was learning. Expansions, updates, and experience all collating into the mind before her. It reminded Char of how she’d learned, observing and mimicking. Using trial and error to become the best human that she could, fit into social codes she had no experience with.

Tree’s head turned with a jerk, validating her initial concerns about the integrity of his neck joint. His body faced the street, one arm lifting to point, “There are people in need of medical attention.”

Without waiting for a response, Tree’s body turned beneath his head, making his way to the apartment door.

“Tree, wait!” Char called, following him out into the hall. He paused for a moment by the stairwell door, turning to continue as soon as she’d caught up. “Triage, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“If the environment is unsafe, then you should stay here or seek shelter.” One hand hovered above the railing as Tree took a tentative step down. “I am designed for all terrains and combat zones.”

Charlie scoffed behind him, “No, you are a prototype. Ideally, someday you’ll be ready, not now.”

“Prototypes do trials.” He stated, already almost to the landing. “We have done several operational trials together.”

Stomping her foot a few times, she finally threw in the towel. “Gah, fine! We’ll go, but if I say we’re done, that’s it.”

“Okay, if there is nothing more to do then we will go.”

“No that’s not—” She stomped one last time.

Tree wasn’t listening, already turning onto the floor below her and almost out of sight.

Under her breath she griped, “Build some robots, it’s for the good of humanity Char. Give them intelligence and personality, Char, how could that come back to bite you in the ass?”

There was hardly a second for Charlie to catch her breath once on the street, sirens harmonizing with the persistent ring in her ears.

She was dazed; not from the blow to the head but from seeing Triage in action. He towered a good foot over the chaos, displaying a red cross on either side of his helmet as he began to work; directing people to hospitals and dressing minor wounds.

People gaped up at him while she explained what he was and how he could help, Triage dutifully insisting on verbal consent for treatment. 

It wasn’t the smoothest process; she was right to have reservations.

Comforting someone nervous was difficult because he believed in extreme honesty and rationality, and often offered his judgments of personal decisions aloud. It was difficult for Tree to decide and enforce who needed attention first in a crowd like this.

He needed a lot more work before he’d really be ready for even a test-run of this kind of scenario. The plan had been to work out his personality and then try and get him started in a clinic working on broken bones and fevers for a while before developing an emergency relief upgrade. 

Still, she thought that they did alright given everything.

At first when Tree had just charged out onto the street, a large part of her had worried that she’d be arrested and shipped to some underground SHIELD bunker instantly.

When that didn’t happen, she was worried that they’d just be in the way, that Triage might somehow malfunction and hurt someone and she’d get sued. They certainly didn’t hurt anything by being there, maybe helped to keep people that didn’t need hospitals from flooding waiting rooms.

No one ran away screaming either. People actually seemed to like him a bit too much, based on the number of selfies and pictures she kept ducking out of.

Normally she had rules against being noticed, especially by police or the internet, but Karen’s revelation was still rattling around in her mind. Her fear of being discovered wasn’t going to keep her from doing the right thing this time.

Really she was grateful that Triage had been so insistent, seeing even a small positive impact from her work was what she needed today. Even while her head kept whipping around the crowd, as if some scientist with a dog-catcher’s pole would be creeping up behind her any second, she felt a small relief from the earlier crush of emotions.

The crowd began to thin out, people being ushered back inside or to other accommodations for the night, which meant that she needed to get home. Preferably without having to cross the police barricade, and before any top-secret government agencies could be called.

It would take a bit of weaving through alleys, but she thought they’d be able to circle around to the back entrance of her building without being caught. Hopefully the explosion was a one-off, because they’d have to pass pretty close behind it.

Triage’s scanners hadn’t found anyone alive inside the burning rubble where a restaurant used to be. She was choosing to believe that meant no one had been inside. The ornate red dining room was usually barren when she walked past, so… maybe. Maybe was enough to fool her for now.

She’d checked her back the whole trip, doubled back twice, and was just coming into sight of the back entrance to her building when her hopes for an easy end to the night began to falter.

Voices came from inside the smoldering explosion site.

Charlie stopped short, Tree bumping against her back; bouncing her forward a foot. One more quiet step and she could see two cops, one standing down in the rubble and the other climbing up from some deeper section.

“Did you get everyone?” The first called, older and much rounder.

While she couldn’t verify anything, this one certainly seemed like a real cop. The ‘been-on-the-job-so-long-I-don’t-give-a-shit’ kind of cop— hard-boiled was the term. Well, she thinks it's the term.

“Yeah.” The scrawny officer scratched his cheek, leaving a smear of ash. “Think most of ‘em were already dead, so I only shot one or two.”

“You think they were dead?”

The younger cop stiffened, clearly aware that he’d made a mistake, but unable to identify what it might be. “Well… looked pretty dead to me, Nolan.” 

“Do you know how to be sure someone is dead?” Nolan asked, crowding into the man’s space from below. Rising on his toes to bring their eyes level and lifting a condescending brow.

“Take their puls—” The nervous response was cut off with a firm smack to the side of his head, almost knocking his hat off.

“—With a headshot, Harris. Simple and elegant.”

“What does it matter, they’re either dead or almost dead. It’s fine.”

“People thought Captain America was dead too, ‘til he started punching aliens out of the sky.”

Harris’ arms were thrown up in the air with indignation, while Nolan stood with the air of someone who knew they’d win, simply because they’d always won.

“That was different!”

“No.” Nolan said, voice firm with the parental tone that said the foot was being put down. “It’ll be different after you get your wimp ass in there and clean up like we were told, rookie.”

Harris had the good sense to do what he was told, but not enough to do it without grumbling. Unholstering his weapon and checking the clip.

As soon as the gun came into sight, it was like a pop-up window flashed in Char’s brain, reminding her of a crucial fact just seconds after it was needed.

Triage is programmed to recognize weapons and alert attention to them. She was frozen in horror: he was already speaking.

“Warning: Firearms in use nearby. Be alert and prepare to leave the area if needed.”

What a good feature to have when trying to render medical aid in unstable or hostile scenarios, yes? Helpful too, for alerting either impersonators or corrupt cops to your location while you’re witnessing them discuss a crime.

“Shut the hell up, what was that?”

The pair of men turned just 90° to find Charlie and Triage standing stock-still.

For a moment there was no reaction, the officers shocked at having been caught in the act and her shocked to have been caught catching them in the act. Stunned silence that was broken by the younger man lifting his weapon in her direction.

“Over there, a civilian!” The gun drifted downward as he tried to describe Triage. “And uh—A um— And a thing!”

“I can see that, you moron.”

“I am a prototype of an algorithmic medical responder.” Triage supplied, helpful as ever.

The gun lifted again, Charlie raising her arms in surrender and Tree tentatively mimicking the action. 

With a roll of his eyes, Nolan drew his own weapon. It was almost insulting how disinterested he seemed. “I’ll finish up here, you deal with her.”

Oh shit. 

She hadn’t even bothered to duck down while eavesdropping on a crime? At this point she might as well just take herself to the nearest freak zoo and cut out the middleman.

The cops began to argue about who was going to do what and why, various complaints that she paid no mind to as her legs began to work again. As the rookie took his first step towards her, she took off.

“Hey, you there!”

Okay, well at least her turning and running reflex still worked. “Triage, fire drill!”

There was the sound of scrabbling behind her, Harris trying to follow as the concrete and rubble shifted beneath him.

“Evacuation procedures initiating…” Triage droned, tottering behind her as fast as he could.

His legs were built for stability and strength, so he could lift and resist tip-over, this meant that maneuverability and speed were practically nil. To be fair, she’d considered them irrelevant, he was made for wide hallways and bending over gurneys.

She always figured that there would be time to create a design able to traverse warzones and disaster areas. Another thing she’d taken for granted was the building next to her apartment not being turned into a smoking crater for no apparent reason.

A loud pop came from the pit, followed shortly by another.

Gunshots.

Triage’s head was turned behind them, watching as Harris managed to crest the rubble and tumble onto the street.

“Warning: Firearms in us—” 

“Stop talking and move faster!” Her grip on Tree’s wide wrist was beginning to slip, the vinyl slipping against her palm as it began to sweat.

He needed to fucking move, she couldn’t carry him, and his programming dictated that he remain behind her in a fire drill so she could make sure any humans were able to evacuate first. Ideas and improvements swirled through her mind, making her hand itch to grab a pen.

She had to remind herself that she’d never be able to make those improvements if she was shot or arrested. 

Focus on escaping first, and remember to adjust Triage’s emergency procedures to be less practical and more functional later. There was shaping up to be a lot more test in this field test than she had previously anticipated.

Turning once, then again, barely maintaining a thirty second lead on her pursuer. This was why she needed to run more, when it became necessary to run, it also usually helped to be good at it. Or at least faster than this.

Another turn, and she was able to see the red and blue of the barricade reflecting down the street. Going forward was no longer an option, seeing as instead of circling away from danger, she’d effectively cornered herself.

What an awful day of bad decisions, really she must be approaching a new personal record.

Ahead of her the alley had two branches, broken glass and litter skittered across the pavement as she ran into the first one, coming face to face with an empty cop car. Backpedaling the way she came, and all but launching herself into the second alley as soon as she saw it was deserted. 

The best she could make of an altogether horrible situation: Harris behind her, and an alley that had no exit.

It was fenced halfway down, she could jump it but Tree wouldn’t make it. She wouldn’t be able to turn the corner in time either, more likely to just get shot. No ladder, but maybe… if she left Tree. Absolutely not, she couldn’t do that. 

Pounding steps came closer to the mouth of the alley.

He could stay behind, she’d come back. There was no other way.

“Triage, Play Possum.”

His display promptly blackened, soft body beginning to buckle.

She ran at the wall, keeping her eyes and focus on the concrete lip above her. With a flicker and a snap of electricity across her skin, she tumbled to her knees on the roof just as Tree collapsed below her.

Moving as quickly and quietly as she could, Charlie cleared the roof and was already on the next when she heard Harris skidding to a stop. There wasn’t time to look back to check on her creation, limp and lifeless. 

She couldn’t be caught, no matter how much her retreat seemed more like a betrayal than a success.

“She’s gone.” Harris puffed, his superior casually walking up behind him.

Holstering his gun, the beat cop nudged at the lifeless blob with the toe of his boot. “Don’t matter, let’s take this thing and see what we can get for it from the boss. The wife’s been bugging me about remodeling our kitchen, might start getting laid again if we hold out for enough.”

Rising from where he’d been hunched over his knees, Harris pressed a hand to the stitch in his side. “You know how to get a meeting with the boss?”

“No, nobody does, that’s the point.” Motioning to the robot, Nolan reached down to try and lift one side, Harris bending over the other. Grunting and huffing under just the weight of one arm.

“But I can get a meeting with someone—” He paused to groan as they tried to combine their efforts. “—who can get a meeting with the guy who screens his calls, and that’s all we need.”

Hands on hips, they regarded the situation.

At their shoulders the radio gave frantic bursts alerting them to the situation with the Masked Man, pursuit had turned into a hostage situation. Even with the impromptu chase, they got one of the easier assignments tonight.

Together they tugged at its legs for a moment, before trying to lift from the head and feet. Neither method made any difference. Flipping it over, there were no discernable seams to separate it into easier pieces.

“Trust me, that’s as close to a meeting with him that you’d want to get anyway.” Giving up with a wheeze, Nolan stood and smoothed down the sparse hair under his hat. “Christ, who knew the Michelin Man could weigh so much?”

Looking up from his crouch, the rookie chuckled. “Well he eats all those gourmet meals, what’d you expect?”

“Shut the hell up, kid.” Nolan snapped, pissed that the night had turned into a big pile of nothing. “We ain’t gonna be able to lift the fatass anyways, let’s just make sure no one else can use it.”

Firing two shots into the head, Nolan huffed again when it became clear that the case was bullet proof. 

“Boss, I think you gotta aim for the spine.”

“It’s a fucking robot, it doesn’t have a spine.”

“Well, yeah.” Harris said, fidgeting with the trigger of his gun. “But like, where his spine would be. Probably has cables in there and stuff.”

Sending daggers at the man he was chained to until his probationary period was over, Nolan snarked, “Alright, so what are you waiting for, a damn invitation?”

“No, sir.” Harris responded, already shooting a few rounds into the belly of the machine.

Kicking at its side while air hissed out, Nolan decided the thing wouldn’t be going anywhere without major repairs. He signaled to the rookie to holster his firearm and head back to the car.

“By the way, what was your head count back there? I saw the two you popped, and I got four more a the Rusky bastards.”

“Six, that sounds about right.”

The white robot’s shattered eyes watched as the two crossed to the opposite alley, Nolan opening the driver’s side door. “Your head ain’t about right, Harris. One thing about this job, you gotta report only what you’re certain on. There were six men, no survivors, one witness with no proof.”

The doors slammed shut, the block left deserted in favor of handing in their reports and going home.

Hope you enjoyed, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, and feel free to shares any thoughts, it helps me to keep up motivation to work on this :)

Also check back soon, I'm thinking of maybe releasing some bts stuff to celebrate my birthday next week! 🥳🥳🥳

[bi-bard]

dodie Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Conner Kent - Conner Kent Imagine [HBO's Titans]

Title: dodie Songs That Would Describe a Relationship with Conner Kent

Pairing: Conner Kent X Reader

Word Count: 1,891 words

Warning(s): feelings of guilt, mention of human experimentation/death of a friend

Author's Note: I genuinely thought that I had already written about Conner but apparently not?? Alright then.

**Not intentionally written in chronological order**

---------------------

Secret For the Mad

I've got a secret for the mad In a little bit of time it won't hurt so bad And I get that I don't get it But you will burn right now but then you won't regret it

If you had told me a year ago that I would be in a mostly empty tower built for a group of superheroes while I was looking over an unconscious clone of an alien, then I would have assumed you taking some kind of drug.

But here I was, spending hour after hour with Gar in the Titan Tower, watching over the clone of Superman and Lex Luthor. The rest of the team had left. Even Dick was gone at this point.

When Conner woke up, Gar and I were still on our own. I grabbed Conner some clothes and led him back to his room while Gar insisted that he could make something decent for Conner to eat and call Bruce.

I stood next to the hospital bed with a now-dressed Conner sitting on the edge.

I had nothing I could say that would help him adjust to all of this. I told him about how he ended up in the tower. I told him about Eve having to leave for a while. I told him as much as I knew.

I saw this look on his face as everything settle in. I knew that look. I had seen it so many times in the mirror. That realization that you might be completely alone. That every part of your existence was just for someone else's benefit and entertainment.

"Hey," I said, reaching out to touch his hand. "You don't have to worry about that anymore. You're here now. No more tests or experiments or any of that. We'll keep you safe from all of it."

"How," he asked.

"However, we have to," I shrugged. "Dick and the team did it for me. I know that they'll figure out how to do it for you too."

His eyebrows furrowed at me. Well shit. Walked into more questions than I wanted to.

I took a deep breath before turning my back to him. I closed my eyes and lifted up the back of my shirt. Just enough to show off the scar running up most of my spine.

"Not quite a clone, but I was an experiment."

I felt my body tense as Conner's fingers brushed my spine. Heat crawled up the length of my neck and took over my face. It was all so strange and new and... almost intimate. He was so gentle that it almost felt loving. He didn't actually know me. I didn't actually know him. Yet, here I was, showing him what was the root of my deepest insecurities, and he was treating it like a piece of art.

I had never had anyone touch the scar other than myself. And even then, I had avoided ever letting my hand brush it. Too much of a reminder of all of my pain.

"What happened," he asked quietly.

I leaned away from his touch and pulled my shirt down again as I turned to face him again. "Like I said, I was also an experiment."

His eyebrows furrowed. I let out a sigh.

"I was in a pretty serious accident," I continued. "It was all pretty much hopeless. But then, this man came to visit my parents in the hospital. He... He offered them a miracle... if they let him perform an experimental surgery. That's what the scar is from.

"And when I woke up, there was this... issue. The doctor that performed my surgery had screwed around with something and... I was left with this artificial connection to the speed force. I'm a speedster."

I didn't know how to explain it to him in a better way.

"That boy I caught," Conner said. "You were the lightning."

"Yeah... Yeah, I was," I nodded. He was talking about Jason. My best friend that I almost failed to save.

"Are there others," he asked.

"Experiments? Yes," I replied.

That seemed to comfort him. A little bit, at least.

"I just... I want you to know that you aren't alone in all of this," I continued. "Many of us are the result of someone's twisted imagination. Doesn't make us bad. It just means that we have to try a little harder to do good."

It was a sentence that Dick had used when we first met. I remembered not really believing it. I had spent too long being treated like some kind of curse to buy such a thought. But I hoped that Conner had a little more hope than I did. A cleaner slate.

"We all figure it out in the end," I said. "That's what matters."

The grin that formed on his face made even me believe the words coming out of my mouth.

Absolutely Smitten

But it's too late Oh, I believe in fate! I'm absolutely smitten, I'll never let you go

Moving in with the Titans never felt like a permanent solution. I always shrugged it off as a temporary job before I was sent back to Gotham.

But now, I felt more at home in that tower than I had ever felt anywhere else. Even with my parents.

The news reports after our missions helped encourage that feeling a lot. They would always talk about us as such a close team. Even when one of us gave a statement- usually Kory- we weren't messy pieces of a puzzle. We were one great thing.

It was nice.

There wasn't a doubt in my mind that Conner and I were the closest in the group. Especially after Jason moved back to Gotham. I still kept in contact with him. His primary tool for avoidance was now to tease me for whatever Conner and I had going on. My primary tool of avoidance was asking about Gotham. Neither one of us made much progress.

I never intended on telling Jason that he was right. However, that plan of mine forgot to factor in that I was not the only person in charge of that timeline.

Kory had been giving a statement on the last criminal we had busted.

I was bored waiting for everyone else, so I looked over at Conner. "Race you back to the tower?"

He looked at me for a moment before grinning. "You're on."

I took off running with no warning.

However, even with my head start, Conner made it to the tower long before I did. I let out an annoyed groan when I saw him waiting by the dining table.

"I was wondering when you were going to show up," he said. "Got worried that you got lost."

"Who taught you to be a smartass," I asked. He raised an eyebrow at me. "Shut up."

I went to walk away and get changed.

"Don't I get something for winning?" Conner called as I made it to the doorway leading out of the kitchen.

I stopped, spinning on my heels to look at him. "That depends... what does Superboy want as his prize?"

He took a deep breath, looking a little more nervous. "A kiss?"

I scoffed. More out of shock than anything else. "Oh..."

"You don't have to," he immediately started to backtrack. "I just... I really like you and I... I thought... well, I was told that you might feel the same way. But if you don't, that's fine. I just-"

I walked over to him as he rambled. I leaned in and pressed my lips to his. It was quick. Just a peck before I pulled away again.

"I like you too, Conner," I said. "A lot."

"Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"Good."

"Who... Who told you that I did," I asked.

"Gar," he looked down for a moment. "He said that it was... very obvious. Then, he told me to try to be bold. Did I do that?"

"I mean... I would say so," I nodded. I decided not to tell him about my plan to fight Gar for saying I was obvious. "I... I should go get changed, but we... we're gonna talk about this."

He nodded. I waved awkwardly before going to leave the room.

It was awkward, yes, but it was just the beginning of something that meant more to me than anything else I had ever experienced.

Intertwined

Intertwined Free I've pinned each and every hope on you I hope that you don't bleed with me

I hated waking up in Gotham.

It was just a constant reminder of too much. Losing Jason, having Jason come back as Red Hood, losing Hank. It all had happened too fast. I was certain that I got whiplash from my time there.

Conner was the only comfort I had through the whole thing.

I woke up one morning with his arm wrapped around me. I was lying on my back. He was lying on his stomach, pulling me as close to him as he could. His head was resting right next to mine on the pillow. God knows that the bed we were sharing was a lot bigger than we needed.

I turned my head, looking up at the ceiling. That dreadful feeling that I had grown accustomed to was coming back.

I blinked away a wave of tears. My tiredness must have been mixing with my pain. I hadn't cried in a while.

I shook my head.

"Are you crying?"

I looked over at a now half-awake Conner. I swear some part of his powers included sensing when I was upset. He always seemed to be there are exactly the right times.

"No," I whispered back.

He frowned at me. I let out a sigh as more tears filled my eyes.

"Sorry," I muttered.

"You don't need to apologize," he said.

He moved to his side, going to pull me closer to him.

I didn't break down or sob or yell or anything. I merely hid my face in his shoulder, closed my eyes, and held onto him a little tighter.

I had talked about the weight of it all before. Conner knew every thought I had more intimately than his. My confusion, sadness, anger, and guilt surrounding Jason. He was the only person that I didn't feel like I had to hide any of it. I knew that he would never judge me for any of it.

"Can we stay here forever?" I muttered. It was so quiet that I was convinced that he didn't hear me.

"As long as you want," he mumbled back, holding me even tighter.

It was an impossibility. A half-hearted joke. But I would have done anything to let that be true. To just have time stop for a little while.

I felt a kiss get pressed to the side of my head. A quiet sigh escaped me.

I wish that a younger version of me got to feel this much love and support. I wonder how different they would have been if someone had taken a moment to hold them with no words spoken. No questions, no shushing, no guilt for not having an explanation for my feelings.

Instead of being able to voice my gratitude, I pressed a kiss to Conner's shoulder.

This was all I needed. Forever.

---------------------

Navigation Guide

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[luckyshotwrites]

Ch. 60 // The Eye of the Storm // Day Off

Contents (Warnings): This is supposed to be the calm... (Angsty, vore mentions, little bit of action, and character/monster info). Read full chapter on - A03

Wordcount: 5,200+ (a little heafty, sorry!)

Side note: This will contain experimental writing; first person (Lynette's view) will be implemented alongside third person for the two other essential characters, (mostly) Alexander and (occasionally) Drake. All their text will be italicized for those third-person moments, with the characters' names in Bold at the start and their thoughts in Bold. There may be other characters I write for using this.

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(Nov. 8th, Tuesday)

Wicks

He sat upright on the bed since Padre and Charletta took Lynette to make breakfast. Even after her confession last night, he couldn't sleep. She's really been dealing with monsters for two months...TWO months. He released a hard breath. 

Can I believe her? Is she even okay? She sounded perturbed at some points but swore she was fine. He had already told her his piece. 

"You should quit." He held up a hand before she could argue. "No, listen to me, Lynette. I deal with monsters and magus's daily, the good and the bad. Some more twisted than you can imagine." He shook his head, "you shouldn't be doing this to yourself!" 

Her subtle rejection galled him. Lynette! Don't ignore me! He tried to move his head in the way of her line of sight. She turned it every which way to avoid him. I'M SERIOUS.

His voice rose, "how are mom and dad going to feel? They trusted you when you said nothing really happened!"

Her head turned, she faced him, "It-I can do this, Wicks." 

"SURE, MAYBE YOU CAN. BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO!" Wicks shouted. It dropped when he saw her shock. "I don't want something to happen to you, okay? I can't always be there. There's so much I have to deal with, and- I don't want you to ever get involved. You can't."

"I'm already involved!"

That's the problem! He exclaimed again, "I DON'T WANT YOU TO BE INVOLVED ANYMORE!" He pulled back at the sudden echo in the dark room. He hoped no one would come knocking. She remained quiet. Her mouth kept opening and closing with hesitance. 

His hazel hue lined her face. The nativity never left her. He exhaled quietly. She looks so tired and drained. He spoke, "you can't keep pushing your limits."

Lynette gently bobbed her head, "I know. I...I don't want to give up." Her meadows met his eyes, "I don't want to rely on all of you again. I always have to." 

"We're here for you, Lentils," Wicks told her. He knee'ed the bed and crawled forward on them to hug her. "That's what families do when they love you." 

She stopped him by shifting back a little. 

"I love you all too." She whispered. "I always will. There's just...still so much to process. I wanted to escape for the week..." Lynette brushed the light curls of her hair back. "it's been hard to think since the vacation started." She dryly chuckled with her broken-up words and thoughts. "I'm still scared, Wicks..." Her eyes met him sincerely. "Scared of everyone."

We scare her. Wicks thought. He heard a knock at the door and perked up, "yeah?" He got off the bed, still in pajama pants and a t-shirt. The door opened.

Madre stuck her head inside, "Buenos días, Wicks, ¿dormiste bien?"

The flush crept upon his cheeks. He was still dressed in pajamas while his mom was clearly ready for the day. "Dormí bastante bien, ¿y ústed?" 

His mom gave a soft whistle with her sigh. "No, estoy preocupada por Lyn..." her shoulders slumped, "Pero ella dijo que quería espacio."

We did tell her all this out of nowhere, and I don't know if she would have reacted any better if she didn't know. Wicks caught the faint glimmer in his mom's eyes. He walked to her.

"Le dije, ella ya no tiene que hablar conmigo," she brought herself into the room and shut the door. "Fui yo. Les dije a todos que no se lo dijeran a Lyn."

"I agreed to it." Wicks went to his mom and hugged her. He knew she questioned her decision. It was something they all worried about. 

Wicks felt his mom's arm wrap harder. He knew his dad said he'd take the blame and told her to lie to Lynette. But she didn't. Their mom refused even though their dad did it because of her weak heart. 

The thought of weak hearts brought him back. There's still so much Lynette doesn't know...

"También fue culpa mía, I made the same decision."

...

Lynette

"You're walking like a zombie." Charletta jested. She popped my side. I groggily followed beside her. 

We watched the spry as always; Padre rounded the corner to the butler's pantry.

"I didn't really sleep last night," I replied. The conversation with Wicks plagued me. I told him a quick summary of everything that had happened thus far, the games, and the individuals I worked with. He flatly told me to quit. Not that I didn't expect it. I can't. It's already been- I knew I had several months to go. There was so much more that could happen.

"I'm sorry, Lyn." An empathetic soothe tapped at my head. "I can't go around acting like it's normal having you know. It's not." Charletta smiled half-heartedly, "though we're both kinda not normal, aren't we?"

"I think I'm pretty normal compared to you all." You can't compare us. I'm not really anything. Up until Saturday...I didn't realize that.

She tightened her wavy ponytail, "A human meeting a monster and choosing to stay around them, that's not normal." We got closer to the kitchen.

A smile wobbled on my lips, "I guess not, is it?"

"Nope. Can't say I wouldn't take it in your position; money is nice." Charletta said. "BUT being around monsters, you don't trust without magic would be terrifying."

They are. We rounded the corner, and in the kitchen, we saw Edgar, Pete's, and Padre.

My boss, Padre, and one of my worst enemies, dad, under the same roof, in the same room, laughing... augh. My shoulders dropped.

"Morning!~" Charlette chirped.

This will be my new family. I reminded myself. I should be nice, for Charletta's sake. "Morning, everyone."

Edgar was sitting at an island counter barstool while Pete's was cooking on the stove, and Padre looked to get started putting together some pancake batter, at least from the ingredients he had spread on the counter. Sugar, flour, butter, baking powder, eggs, milk, and no measuring cups. Padre always winged it. Charletta and I nodded, understanding that we'd help him measure everything. 

"Good morning, ladies!" Pete's chimed with a slight wave of his egg-covered spatula. 

Edgar lifted up his drink, "morning, gals."

Padre beckoned us, "let's make these cakes, chicas!"

Charletta and I went to wash our hands first.

"Is Ulysses up? I don't want him to miss too much of the fun you all have today." Edgar said.

Charletta chuckled, "he's up. He went with Drake and Alexander to get some "breakfast."" She put air quotes over it.

People? I raised a brow at Charletta. How could she say that so casually?

"This early?" Edgar questioned.

Pete's smirked and pointed the spatula to him, "like you've been one to pass up a drink in the morning.~" He sang it so sweetly.

Edgar lifted up his glass, "this is water."

"mhm," Pete's turned around, "like I can't see that blood staining your teeth."

Edgar put a hand to his mouth. He traced his fangs with his tongue. 

I almost forgot he's a vampire. Not that he doesn't have any noticeable features. I didn't usually see him as he was dressed now. When cooking, he wore his hair up at the pizzeria, and his hat covered his pointed ears. Then again, I only saw him a handful of times while I worked up front.

Now, the differences were more apparent, specifically his ears and perfect appearance. He perked up, and his eyes glanced up at me from his cup. A hand moved under his chin as he observed me.

Padre spoke out before Edgar did, "Charletta, do you have chocolate chips?"

"Come on, dad, like I wouldn't have chocolate chips!" Charletta sprung up as she passed him the measured cup of milk. A recipe book was on the counter next to him. 

He smirked and squinted at the directions. It was almost like he couldn't read. Charletta tapped the bag onto my head. I looked up at it and took it in my hands. 

The distant cool gaze locked onto me after Charletta returned to the other side of him next to the cookbook. 

"As promised, Lyn." He lifted the bowl to stir the ingredients after Charletta added the eggs. "You're what I'd call a failed magus."

I faintly smiled at that familiar word. I crinkled the bag in my hand.

"When magic is used, it leaves behind a trail of essence." Padre scooted closer, "a human's energy is affected by that essence. Some not by much, maybe an extra centimeter, some by an inch. And that energy change lowers as the essence dissipates. The rate at which it dissipates depends on the range, level of the spell, and the amount of those around it." 

I continued to press at the bag like it was bubble wrap. 

"Now, for a human to become a magus, they'd need to be under CONSTANT bombardment, and you wouldn't walk into remanence of spells like that constantly, but..." Padre tipped his head in Edgar's direction. "Monsters have a small to large abundance of magic essence that lingers on their body. So, being around one over an extended period can also change you. 

He showed me the bowl, and I fiddled with the bag to open it up.

"Magus's count in that category as well," Pete's placed his finished omelet on the plate. "I think your natural magic essence trail exceeds most monsters I've met." He said, looking at Padre. Pete's placed his hot pan on the back of the stove to let it cool and the spatula in the sink. 

I got the bag open and started to pour them in the batter. 

Padre nodded and sighed, "I'm most likely the culprit." His eyes went over to Petes, who said down, then back to me. "I'd assume such an extended period helped you develop a "core.""

"Core?" Lynette touched my chest once I finished dumping half the bag inside. That's way too many. 

"It's called a core, but it's like an extension of your body. When you become a magus, your body undergoes some changes. Physically and mentally." Padre paused for a moment. "and..."

Pete's spoke up again; he smiled at me, "your atomic structure changes to an extent as energy to you becomes similar to nutrients and a source to conjure magic, and your mind feels at a strange peace at first. You can think very clearly. It's the calm before the storm. You became more resilient, faster, even stronger; it's quite the rush." 

He said it with a grin reminiscing about the past. 

"You weren't born a magus?"

Pete's chuckled, "no. I was one of the lucky few to end up on Yexodele. Earth and that world were so intertwined, sometimes humans would end up there and monsters here." His smile faded as he glanced up at Padre, who finished stirring. 

"And you were found by a group of vampires," Edgar said. He placed down his cup. 

Pete's snicker returned as he looked at Edgar, "yeah," he glanced back at me, "and that's one way your high is knocked down; when you see others performing magic leagues above you." 

Charletta came forward next to me. "Wait, is that how you two met?"

Edgar turned his head away and took another sip of his drink. 

Pete's nudged at his ribs, then chuckled, "mhm, yeah, what a terrifying introduction to monsters too. I think I still got the scars-"

Edgar flipped back, "YOU DO NOT. I'D NEVER-" He scanned the shirt collar Pete's pulled down. 

I could see deep scar marks from a giant bite not that far from his neck, though it looked more on his shoulder. 

"OLCAY GAVE YOU THAT!" Edgar yelled in flustered embarrassment. 

"Olcay?" Charletta questioned.

"My wife," Pete's said, "I had her mark the territory." He let his collar fall back with a faint smile on his face. 

She's the wendigo, right? I worry about how she'd be. Actually...why isn't she here?

Padre's tune popped in again, "you would have been like him if your core developed your body," I glanced back and saw a few pancakes already sitting on a plate. "Grab some, guys."

Charletta grabbed another plate, and we split the pancakes. I got two she got two. 

"What happened to the core then?" I asked.

"It failed," Padre said. "So, it's either you might not have had enough exposure to develop it..."

"Or even rarer, you can't become a magus." Pete's chimed in.

Padre and Pete's interlocked eyes for a moment. He sighed, looked down, and took another bite of his omelet.

I sat down at the further barstool and Charletta took the spot between Pete's and I.

I pressed my fork through the fluffy pancakes. "So, is that why I'm often mistaken for a magus?"

Padre flipped another one to the now empty plate beside the fridge, "your energy is similar to that of a newborn magus, so most would assume so..." his tone came out softly, "magus's can hid their energy and magic protentional, so they'd assume that."

In reality, I'm weak and have nothing to show for it. I thought to myself. I noticed Charletta studying me.

I took another bite and forced myself to happily munch.

"OH wow, these pancakes came out so much better than last time, Padre!" I clamored. I can't make Charletta worried when her big days coming up. She looks so happy with Ulysses... I'll be fine. I always am...

...

Drake

*Later in the afternoon*

For their parties for the groomsmen, bridesmaids, and a few extra friends, they decided on this activity. After this, dinner and most likely the retelling of the whole battle. 

They were in a facility, out with a forest back domed over for them to use. Drake held his encrypted helmet under one arm. Small groups formed based on their colors, either green or red. He glanced up at his brother beside him. 

"Ulysses, I think you both created a battleground." 

His eyes were under his bangs, mainly catching the staring contest between Alexander and Wicks. Of course, they're on opposite teams.

"Ha-" His brother looked over his own helmet. "I think this might be a great way for them to release some steam..." His expression steamed with worry, "right?"

One of the staff members finally came up to Ulysses. He kept still for them to put a cloak on him and the temporary cap seal for his magic use. It was adjusted so they couldn't destroy a majority of the area. 

Drake awaited the same treatment.

"Wicks might kill Alexander," Drake said once Ulysses was finished. It was on to him next. 

His brother didn't look worried until he looked back at Drake. Then, his smile wavered, "I-It'll be fine." The staff called everyone over to their respective sides of the main room, one that was all red and one that was all green. 

Ulysses got his helmet on, and so did Drake. Once he put it on, it enabled his thoughts to be projected to those on the green team and vice versa if they wanted. You say it'll be fine because you're on the winning side. Out of all the guys, Drake thought Wicks was one of the most powerful. Not that he doubted Alexander, but looking at the two, there was a clear difference. Though another teammate of theirs, Ace was an excellent combatant for Wicks. 

Drake moved near Alexander, who jumped at his touch. He glanced over, and Drake saw the slight squint through the visor piece. Alexander's not wearing his glasses. He can't see...we are totally losing. 

Alexander relaxed enough upon realizing it was him.

"You should apologize to Wicks and tell him you're going to apologize to Lynette after this." 

"What? Why would I apologize to her?"

Drake exhaustedly chuckled. He knew Alexander was being serious. "Dude."

Alexander fixed his helmet, "I haven't done anything wrong to her. Eating her isn't that bad."

Really?"It's terrifying WHEN YOU CAN'T USE MAGIC," Drake snapped back. 

The floors shook in tandem, and a giant metal wall came up and separated the room and teams. 

"That's not the same thing." Alexander grit his teeth. The implication frustrated him. "She has a CHOICE." The half-magus exhaled out, "you didn't."

One of the female workers called everyone's attention. Drake had no time to respond.

"HELLO, GREEN TEAM! I HOPE YOU'RE READY FOR TODAY'S GAME OF MARKED," She exclaimed to everyone who was either in a human case or, much like Alexander and Drake, naturally had humanistic-looking forms. "Dummy me."

One of them brought her a male mannequin. She swung it around like they were doing the waltz. 

"Let's review a few of the rules and safety perimeters!" The other staff started to hand out weighted golden stamps with green ink. "You've been given stamps and are currently in our custom cloaks to make it all even."

She got the mannequin and put a basic cloak over it. "Your mission is to break the cloak of your opponents," she dinged against it with the stamp, and it broke. "Then stamp your opponent's flesh or fur with your stamp. If you do that, the points go to your team, and that player is out." Once she stamped the dummy with the red helmet, the helmet buzzed, and she swung it around. 

"If you're out, go to the meeting hall, then the infirmary to get checked up." She behind her, "your helmets will guide you."

She held up a finger and swung the dummy toward the other workers. "We've also placed magic cap seals to ensure you don't go TOO wild!" Her bubbly smile continued, "if you purposefully break those caps, you're automatically removed from the game." She punted the dummy off to the two others who caught it.

"And we ask that you don't hit someone who was stamped or fight amongst each other for points. Or we will deduct or pull you off the stage." She tried to warn, but the wag of her finger came off more innocent than anything. "Lastly, outside of this room, your monster forms are permitted as long they are below the 20 feet limit!"

She motioned to the door and long tunnel behind them, "NOW, HAVE FUN, EVERYONE!"

...

Alexander

They were all scattered amongst the 1,000 acres of land in the middle of the forest. There was only pine trees, animals, and other players for miles and miles.

Drake had left him because "I don't want to be collateral in Wicks coming after you."

And even without his eyesight, he had an excellent idea of everyone around when he focused on his disgusting smells. He already got his team two victims, one of the girls on the orange side and one of the other dudes on the red side. 

"You never play it safe, do you!?" A voice called from above. He flinched and flipped around. 

He heard a yelp that followed and saw another behind him, strung up. The girl held the strings and yanked them as they went around the thick branch. It pulled the guy to it until there was a loud snap of the cloak. The girl let the strings go, and the guy's form fell. She got him stamped on the way down.

I bet she's wearing a business suit to this or some shit. Alexander squinted at her form. He only barely recognized the scent. "Koi...great." He traced over her orange helmet, "you know you could have jumped me instead." 

Alexander watched the blur from the red team do the walk of shame. He was lucky the helmets were bright. 

"No, thank you. I don't feel like getting into another fight with you after the last." Her voice wasn't easy to forget either; efficient and sharp. "That and I've already heard someone claimed you."

HE'S OBSESSED WITH ME, DAMMIT. Alexander groaned, "don't fuckin' remind me." 

"You know it's customary to act prim and proper to your future in-laws." She said, "you were born here. I thought you'd know."

Koi touched her helmet. She might be contacting someone. 

"He's the one who wanted to start shit with me first," Alexander replied. He hated her condescending tone, regardless of whether she meant it or not. 

"I doubt that."

The amount of jerkiness everyone just LOVES dishing out this week is INCREDIBLE. 

"Got anything else to say, Koi?" He half threatened, "because you might not be coming after me, but that doesn't mean I won't fight your ass." His tone clearly wasn't serious. 

He could hear the smile on her lips, "no, no. I've said my peace."

Better hav- Alexander's shoulders rose. His body pushed himself forward without looking back. 

Alexander crashed into Koi and shielded her from the crash behind them. A few scraps of wood and dirt struck his back, but nothing more. 

The sound of cracking festered from behind, and he pushed her away, "go, now." He ordered and flipped around to face the adversary climbing up from the crater. 

That's a lot of magic for a handicap. Alexander thought as Wicks waited for Koi to clear. Both of their eyes glowed as they fixated on one another. 

He's using enhancements. Alexander read the stream of the spell, not that it helped, as Wicks went straight at him. And Alexander did something he rarely ever did. 

Dodged. 

He couldn't combat Wicks's power, he'd need a stronger cloak, and even then, he knew it wouldn't help. Wicks shifted his magic to a centralized point to avoid the magic cap. It was in one limb instead of his whole body to hit MUCH MUCH harder. 

Wicks caught himself and pivoted to strike Alexander again. 

Instinctually Alexander wanted to catch it. He knew he couldn't.

The cloak would break with one hit from Wicks.

Alexander reeled his arm up and swiped at the air. FORCE. 

Wicks was so close to hitting Alexander, but the force of air erupted at the light olive skinned male.

At least, that's what it should have done. Instead, Alexander got sent back by his own attack. It spiked him back into a tree, crunching it's bark.

It didn't break the cloak, it weakened it. The cloak kept the brunt of the damage from hurting him.

He specializes in the perfect counters for me! Alexander tried to escape, the torpedo which was Lynette's brother. He couldn't and took the roundhouse kick, it struck Alexander's ribs. The cloak snapped, and he gasped out, but didn't go flying. Alexander had ingrained his feet into the ground and grabbed Wicks leg. It surprised him.

He swung Wicks down and into the ground, a low growl leaving his mouth. Then, when he turned to look at the spot he slammed him, his eyes burned. He knew the feeling, Illusion. Alexander tried to grab the Wicks in front of him, he felt like he got something, only to peek up at the blur and see a tree. Behind-

His body tensed and was about to take the next attack Wicks had planned, instead something tapped on his neck, a stamp?, and his helmet buzzed to life. The giant gust from behind, not a use of force, but from an attack that was stopped pushed him and his clothes.

He had indeed been stamped. He couldn't make out the figure except for the bright orange far away with the glowing stamp flying to them. Koi?

Alexander looked back as he heard Wicks grumble something in what he supposed was Spanish. Wicks with a dissatisfaction walked by Alexander, "next time, Xander."

Wicks went in pursuit of the individual that saved Alexander from getting struck in the back.

Alexander's helmet started to direct him back. He hadn't fought anyone with magic in a while and if Koi didn't hit him and he took another hit like that he might not have been able to keep his form together.

Let me go back there and get my damn glasses already.  

...

Lynette

I sat back and watched in the main hall the whole time. From what I understood, they had camera-like devices that tracked all the individuals playing and how much they used in fights. As those beings were taken out of the game, they made their way back here and were assisted by the staff. I sat at the back, not too close to the exit and also not that far from it. The staff was relatively nice and the small gray, giant bunker like room felt cozy.

There is so much going on. I watched Wicks and Charletta the most; Wicks seemed to be heading in a specific direction, looking for someone or something. While Charletta, I have never seen her go so wild before. Then again, they told me Charletta used to be a menace when she was younger. 

I found myself flinching a lot in my seat, watching everyone. Especially Wicks and Alexander. 

"Hey, Lynette." Drake's voice interrupted me. I turned to him as he had his helmet off and went to the guys' side of the main hall to get looked at. 

I gave him a little wave as he passed. He looked exhausted as he walked. He almost stumbled over, in fact. Who did he fight? I couldn't see who had stamped him. 

I turned back to the screen, and it was over. I didn't see Wicks with Alexander anymore. He was fighting someone else. Alexander lost? Relief fled my breath after that. Not that I have to worry about Alexander eating Wicks anymore. I thought to myself. I still didn't want Alexander to hurt my brother. 

I watched Wicks knock them out of the park and soon saw the hulking individual come by too. I hadn't been around him during most of the vacation besides at dinners. He eyed me for a moment. I flinched out of reflex. 

"Tsk." He rolled his eyes and didn't say a word. He walked away from me and in the same direction, Drake had gone earlier. 

Another male walked in and sat beside me instead of going to the check-up area. I tried to focus on the screen and not on him. He took off his helmet to reveal the short, cyan-blue hair. He gave a loud exhale and tried to fix it.

"Were you playing earlier too?" He asked with a fruity tone. 

"N-no." I shook my head. "It was nice to sit back and watch."

He had a delicate appearance and looked back at the screens with me, "ah, I see the appeal. A lot better than taking a hit to the face." He had a pleasant laugh. Then turned his torso to me and held up a hand, "I'm Ace."

I lifted up my hand sheepishly. Some people were around, so I didn't expect him to do anything. "I'm Lynette." We shook them. 

He grinned, "you've got such a pretty name to match your beautiful face."

It took a second for my brain to buffer. Did Ace say I have a beautiful face? 

He immediately turned his head away and covered his mouth, then spoke, muffling some of his speech. "Did I accidentally blurt out the beautiful face thing?"

I nodded, somewhat confused by his sudden compliment. My face isn't beautiful. I'm getting some pretty bad circles under my eyes. I touched my cheeks. 

He quickly apologized, "I'm sorry if that came out weird."

"Y-you're okay; I-I honestly don't know what to say to the compliment, is all." I put my hands up, "not that I don't appreciate it! I think you have a nice face too."

I felt the queasy, unease swirl in my stomach. 

"My face?" He got up, "oh, uh, well, thank you. L-Lynette." He was about to walk away but got down before me and picked my hands up. He bowed his head to me. "It was nice to meet you." He looked up, and I saw the blush on his face.

"Nice to meet you, t-too." I shyly replied. He let go and gave me a wave, rushing to the boys' infirmary room.

I sat back in the chair and looked up at the screens again. Ace forgot his helmet during the rush. Was he some kind of monster? I asked myself as another person took a seat next to me. 

I calmed down a little once I realized it was Drake. 

"Hey again, Drake." I only saw his hair brushed back briefly during the rehearsal earlier, so seeing him with it down over his eyes again was a little 'peaceful.'

Drake pointed toward the guy's infirmary and asked, "Was Ace flirting with you?"

I stiffened up, "I don't know. He said I have a nice face."

"Nice face?" Drake turned his head. I assumed he looked over my face. I faintly saw his eyes past his bangs.

He leaned closer, and I pushed back in my chair. The quiet chill made me think of the photo booth.  

"D-drake!"

His shoulders jumped. He pulled back and groaned. "Sorry, I-I wasted too much energy during the game..." He tipped himself up and threw his hoodie over his head. He gasped out quick, "tellAlexanderI'mgettingadrink." He didn't let out another breath between the words and left. 

My hand brushed my neck. Note to self, don't mention my appearance to Drake. I thought. I didn't want to feel the pressure on my neck again. 

I saw the burly blonde next. I called to Alexander as soon as he started looking around the room.

"Xander..." 

His eyes fixated on me quickly, and he got closer. I felt even worse with him. I couldn't look into his gaze. I knew he'd be annoyed or hungry. 

"What?"

My lip quivered, "D-drake wanted me to tell you, he-he was going out to get a drink."

I felt his shadow cast over me; he stood way too close. "Uh-huh..." 

"ALEX!~"

My attention went up to the girl who playfully pushed his back. He didn't stumble or move. It took his attention from me. "Don't get any ideas there."

His eyelids dropped, "whatever, I'm going out to eat too." He moved past her, and she gave him a teasing wave. 

Again the seat next to me was taken. Wenna plopped down and looked up at the big screen. "You should totally join next time. It was so much fun!"

I pressed at the cushioned armrests, "given how Wicks was with Alexander. I don't think I'd live."

Wenna picked up the helmet Ace left and looked it over, "Wicks could give you a cloak under your cloak and some enhancements, then you'd be golden! Or the alternative.~" She took a light sniff of the helmet.

WHY ARE YOU SMELLING IT. 

I didn't want to ask. "Alternative?"

Wenna put it into her lap and nodded, "I can make you a vampire."

I jerked my attention from the helmet to her, "huh-you-no, thanks!"

Wenna laughed aloud, "I'm kidding, I'm sure your family wouldn't be happy if I decided to try and make you one of us. Plus, you'd be a diluted vampire. Generally, those are the ones that are very active when they first change."

"Diluted?"

Wenna teetered forward and then bounced with interest, "oh, oh! Right, let me tell ya," She tapped her chest. "a pure like me is when two vampires get together and have a child. While Diluted are the ones that a vampire or vampire beast creates, they are made from another species, such as humans. Diluted can learn magic like us, except you won't be exceptionally skilled at it, and your animosity won't be at our level either."

"So you all are pure vampire beasts?"

Wenna shrugged, "well, Drake-" Her expression changed to worry. She glanced around the room and continued, "Yeah."

What about Drake? Was he born different? A diluted? He said he wasn't good at magic, but he's from them both, right?

She looked like she hoped I wouldn't ask anything more about it. Unfortunately for her I did.  

"Would the vampire beast trait pass too?"

"Nope, you'd have to be born with that."

She steered the conversation away from vampires and distracted me with the screen and fights. Is Drake different from them somehow? He looks like you guys. 

In the end, Charletta won because Wicks seemed out of energy, and he refused to fight her. And Ulysses didn't stand a chance against his future wife.

...

Hey, you, thank you so much for reading. It means a lot that I put out a story that people can enjoy! So, I hope you continue to enjoy it as WE have a LOT more to go! YOU BETTER KEEP PROSPERING! (Nonnegotiable).

First Chapter Previous Chapter Next Chapter

Catch up, see some maps/art, or check the latest release dates down below  ↓ ↓ ↓ 

What I’d do for a Livable Income (Synopsis/Chapter - List)

[bh-writingdump]

Oakland

Chapter 1: Easy Peasy Part 1

“I dunno about this.” your shorter friend backs into you. Bones rattling, teeth chattering and intakes whistle. If you weren’t watching the whole thing, you would’ve thought some experimental band came to town. Even eir nerves rattles to a beat. “I must confess, I didn’t study at all.”

“Bullshit.”

“not a single moment. Anytime I even thought about rehearsing.” Ey throws up eir arms at you. “What’s that for?! I’m dead serious.”

You scoff. “Yeah, sure, tell that to the joy you’re tutoring…. The kinda person who flips tables at math… you can teach and yet.”

Ey waves it off. “Learned that nonsense years ago. This is different.”

“uh-huh.” You smirk, stepping into em so ey can’t back away any further.

The grocery store towers over the adjacent buildings. Big blocky green letters read Peasley Easly Grocer. You can even imagine their theme song. ‘Come to Peasley’s Easyly, where you won’t feel measily~ Cuz it’s easy~’ Admittedly, ever since Oakland dropped off the map, the advertising department was never the same. Neither the design department, soon after the world forgot about Oakland, the new owner. Peasley’s husband, Easyly decided it was time to give the old grocery store a makeover.

Between its Corinthean columns and the paint job, it’s like you’re walking into somewhere important. Then you hear the sliding doors and the whole illusion is ruined. It’s only the one side too.

You shake your head.

You massage your friend’s shoulders. Waiting for eir rattling to drop a notch, savoring the way ey leans back into you. Fuck, somedays, you forgot how nice it was just to… exist.

The satisfying draw of smoother than smooth warm bones beneath your phalanges taking you into a whole other dimension. It’s just you, hands, and the most beautifully sculpted collar bone on the planet.

Sadly, oh sadly, reality always comes a knocking.

A scent of navel oranges invades your nostrils along with the familiar chill of an AC. You open your eyes, finding yourself in the home of your agoraphobic friend. “Dude… we talked about this.”

Ey steps away.

The two of you stand in the living room.

Eir back tall as if this meant nothing. Not even the local Ancient Greek themed Grocery Store could bring down the Great Mathematician. And yet, 50 attempts later, you still got eir groceries.

Each time your friend came up with the same excuses. No, not excuses, you’d seen em the one-time ey had gone inside.

Little joy nearly shook emself to pieces by the cash register. Back when you’d only known em as your tutor, you hadn’t even seen eir out of the profile of a computer screen yet you knew part way across the store that was em.

Few monsters, after all, could rock a cardigan and skirt quite like the mathematician could. Plus, the spiderweb of vine marks etched into eir skull helped. Dozen skeletons in town and not one of them had that distinct of a cranial design.

You remember that day clear as day.

The cashier attempted to talk em down while a general manager loomed over em. Tears gathered in eir vacant sockets. Words sputtered out but too soft to be heard.

“Yo, Teach!” You call, all three turn their heads. The little skeleton snapping harder than the rest.

You ignore the humans, kneeling beside your tutor. “Good luck comes to those with a pocket full of tissues as my nopa says.” You grin, revealing a seemingly endless line of tissues you pull from your wrist, somehow still attached to each other. A lite magic trick that always cheered up your younger siblings.

Though, your soon-to-be friend barely took notice. Staring up at you like the grim reaper had some to get em. “not supposed to see you until next week.”

You shrug. “I got stuck.” You plop down beside em. You write out a problem along your arm in sharpie Like a blood hound on the scent, eye snatches your arm and marker.

You must’ve been staring for a while because the cashier clears their throat. You stand up, your new shadow following behind you, scrawling on along your arm, only to raise a brow. A look you’d seen enough time to know what ey wanted without saying a word.

You sigh. Did you really have to go over this in a grocery store? You could make it up, couldn’t you. “see I know how to factor but all completing a square triangle stuff.. it isn’t clicking. Can’t I just get the vertex and be done with it?”

Ey nods. Though, you’re still not sure if ey heard you. Ey scribbles with renewed enthusiasm muttering, “your basic arithmetic needs some work.”

“that’s why we have calculators, old timer.”

“Lazy,” ey mutters.

Magic sparks from your other hand. You clench your fist, finishing up purchasing an assortment of vegetables, fruits and soup cans.  You toss them in a bag, walking out the door.

“You factored out the ‘a’ divided resulting ‘b’ by 2 and square it but you need to subtract it inside and outside the parenthesis. The outside one you need to multiply by ‘a’ again so when you distribute the resulting c inside and outside will cancel out each other.”

Just like that, it feels like your back in session. Your skin burning to get the fuck out. “I didn’t order alphabet soup…. Oh look at the time, I got to head to do things.. Looks like you’re good to go. Bye!”

Despite eir smaller stature it takes more effort than you would’ve thought to extract your hand from eirs.

In the low setting sun, shadows seem to stretch for miles. Your races ahead of you, soon joined by another. “Dude. Stop following me.” You sigh.

Eir gaze stops you in your tracks. The absence of eir eye lights. Ey always has eye lights. No matter how small. Eying the road around them, you notice the humans who usually kept to their yards, venturing out along the side walk. The strangers stall just long enough as if to remind them just who drove the lot of them under the mountain in the first place.

The mathematician nearly bumps shoulders with you. Hovering just within range that you feel eir magic react to yours.

“Stickers.” Ey tugs on eir coat. “Give them to me.”

 You grab eir hand, dragging em down a side path away from the suburbs. Only once you’d looked back several times seeing nobody following did you relax a touch.

Out of nowhere, the shadow shoves a hand into your pocket, extracting your stickers.

“HEY!”

“Factored GCF.” Ey puts a star on your original work. On your arm. “You divided ‘b’ by 2 and squared it, ditched the ‘negative’ correctly.” Star. Star.” “And…” Ey frowns. “Did something in and out.” Star. “4 out of 5. Better than last time.”

Chill the fuck out. You’ve been down her a million times, it’s just the burbs. You barely even process your shadow’s constant babbling, merely accepting that that’s just your life now. The idea of being alone, much less leaving a monster alone with them, even the annoying ones.

Once back into a better part of town, you ask, “anybody you want me to call? Think the taxis handle these sorts of things.”

“A maths lawyer.”

Wow, the sass from the joy. Rarey is ey this biting. The usual timidity entirely vanished.

Ey forces you to sit on a log, gesturing as ey writes equations in the air.

So in the zone, the usual faint scrunch to eir face eases Like this is just another problem. The only things you can’t write off is the faint tremor in eir hand. the dude could write for hours before without breaking a sweat.

After the fifth rewrite, you noticed ey isn’t all that different. Similar style problems. It’s all as if ey is reproducing em as a self-soothing technique rather than to teach. Not that you mind now. You’d upend the log and any nearby trees if you had to hear another problem you suck at but if eir’s just going to jabber, whatever.

Then your tutor looked at you. Even then you were stuck by the intense concentration the joy always made everything appear so effortless like ey conducted an orchestra of equations.

As the conductor raises eir hand, you notice a bead of sweat roll down eir neck. Eir mouth hangs open, ready to catch flies.

Ey frowns, trying again. this time ey tugs at your hand.

A spark jolts through your arm again as the magics intermingle. The strange connection stronger this time. You barely even notice how bright things got until it glared you in the face.

The scent of oranges draws you from eir hand. The ground below is no longer a gravel path but a matted blue carpet. You wrinkle your nose at the strength of the smell.

Rather than the familiar forest, the two monsters are indoors. The shorter hurrying away tossing back a few pills before slumping onto the couch. It’s one of the motel rooms, huh, you’d never taken em for the type to stay here long.

“Damn, didn’t know people still did porting magic.” No response, just a long belated sigh as the smaller skeleton pinches eir nasal ridge.

Taking it as your cue to sit, you plop down beside em. Judging form, the glare, that must’ve been another wrong.

Shrug, relating into the comfortable couch.

It’s stiff but the litany of pillows makes it infinitely more comfortable than your mattress back home. No maneuvering required to avoid an arrant spring. “How do you ever get anything done?” You melt into your forever home. “Temp’s perfect. Got all this storage.”

You gesture to the walls packed with shelves. Shelf housing maybe 20-30 boxes around the circumference of the room. In one such box you spy a flashing light. Like a moth to flame, you investigate it. Looks like a DIY machine of some kind. There’s no label to what it is, just a bunch of exposed wire and circuits.

How hadn’t you noticed any of this during your sessions?

Only way would’ve been if ey covered the wall with a sheet. There’s not a single piece of exposed drywall.

In another drawer, you find compact robots while others contain an infinite array of circuit boards. Some so small they could fit on the tip of your pinky phalange while other so large they take up the entire box.

Hard to tell much else. Your expertise begins and ends with microwaving meals and smacking computers to turn on again.  

A force tugs you back from the drawers. The telltale blue glow covers your waist. “Touchy, touchy.”

The bugger already prying eir precious tech from you.

“I was just looking.”

Ey opens either mouth to protest but quickly thinks better of it.

Oh yeah, that’s still going on.

“Speaking of, need any help like… I’ not an expert in this…”

Ey raises a brow, glancing at the shelves.

“Oh! Hahaha… not that. I mean the other stuff. Mutism and stuff.”

Ey shakes eir head, setting aside the machines in eir respective containers.

You nod surveying the place again. “Cool..”

Pin prick glare up at you. You can’t help but smile. “So.. all good?”

It’s then you feel a tug at your arm and the dust of something blue on the smaller skeleton’s cheeks. Ey whirls around, dragging you into the kitchen before you can protest, a Tupperware of egg salad is shoved into your hand before you’re promptly shoved out the door.

You stare back curiously at the door.

Weird.

Usually when you go poking around, people rarely give you things.

You hold the Tupperware tightly. Huh.. that gives you an idea.

.

.

.

[Oakland, pg1] -->

[materialgworl-ish]

I wanna preface this post by saying that i have nothing against Timothée Chalamet. I’m sure he is an awesome dude. But I never really got the hype around him. The obsession. People claiming that he is the “epitome of the female gaze” and the most beautiful thing they’ve ever seen.

Now, Timothée lives in my head rent-free for a different reason.

I watched Call Me By Your Name for the first time a few weeks ago (because I was way too young to when it first came out) and I think it lived up to the hype. It was beautiful and the acting was amazing. The only consequence of this movie is now whenever I see Timothée Chalamet I think of the scene where his character fucks a peach.

I knew he was going to do it. The scene stretched on for what felt like days, the peach juice spilling on his body as he lounges about before he pokes a hole in the top. The entire time I kept saying to myself, “Timothée, don’t fuck the peach lol.” But soon the “lol” was becoming less and less pronounced until it was silent, the slick sound of off-camera peach fornication disgracing my ears. I think about it at least once a week.

Now, although it may not seem like it, I don’t hate this scene. CMBYN is a story about an adolescents sexual awakening, and that sometimes involves strange sexual experimentation. However, I can no longer take Timothée Chalamet seriously because of it. Everytime I see his face, I remember it’s the same face I watched experience simulated pleasure from fucking a peach. He could be starring in the most melodramatic, serious film and I’d still be giggling to myself thinking, “peach boy,” because apparently I am still the 12 year old I was when this movie came out.

I don’t know if there’s a moral or a lesson to this ramble. Maybe it’s hope, that even if we are not remembered for our beauty, people will never forget you if you fornicated with a piece of fruit.

[genshinconfessions]

It disgusts me how easily some people in this fandom jump to telling others to harm themselves.

A Genshin artist I follow on Twitter, who IMO makes extremely unproblematic work, has left Tumblr because of the gross messages she is receiving. Because "I don't like this" translates to "I must attack the villain!!" for some people.

At this point, you could fill a book with all the stories of creators getting mistreated by members of the community. Kind of messed up.

:/// we totally agree with you. this is smth we've actually talked about in our down time lol how genshin is Literally just some pixels on a screen and it's really not that serious. like yeah, it takes inspiration from real life conflicts and places and things that exist, but such is art! art comes from life! that doesn't mean such art accurately represents said life, and it certainly doesn't mean that anyone should attack anyone else over a difference in opinion regarding the game.

and regarding fanworks -- god this is such a young fandom. i keep saying this but genshin is SUCH a young and new fandom, with young and new members. fans attacking fanart/fanfic is smth almost exclusively seen in younger, newer fandoms with younger, newer fans, and it's because--like you said--they don't know how to separate 'i personally don't like this thing' from 'this is a bad thing that should not exist'.

i see so much of this in the genshin fandom, even when i'm not actively trying to engage with it: if it's 'problematic' to like tartaglia (because he tried to drown a city and is part of a literal mafia), how no one should be liking dottore and if you do you're a shitty person (because he performed human experimentation and other fucked up things), and i shit you not, that liking ayato is a red flag (because he was the mastermind behind many inazuma plots but never showed his face so he could seem innocent).

like, guys... it's a game. fiction is not the same as real life. you can enjoy a fucky wucky little character and still realize that they're a bad person in the story. you can enjoy a fucked up little gremlin and not agree with their actions and thoughts. you can enjoy a piece of media without subjecting yourself to the purity mindset. i hate to say it but some ppl on the internet really take it too far with the purist thing; yeah it's good to know that a certain character's actions would not be acceptable irl, but that doesn't mean you can't like how they're written, or their personality, or even their appearance -- because they're fictional. nothing they do in the story will affect real life.

now, if you're going to emulate them irl, maybe don't do that...

katheryne from liyue

[spaceymcspacer]

So 2023 is almost over, let's summarize the art that has been made in 2023!

January - Stick together forever no matter what

Yeah, let's start with a birthday image, and one I am not the most proud of. It's mostly Spacey's "Tude Face" that I hate. I was desperate for an expression so I scribbled on whatever. Not a great choice in hindsight. Still a fine drawing but that still annoys me.

February - Spooks Serious Smoke

Cartoons should smoke, and Spooks proves that with this drawing. Look at him go with this great drawing.

March - Getting a good Fisting from the Ray

I really like drawing Rayman. The goofy fellow provides a lot of fun ideas and allows me to be especially creative. With Rayman 3 being one of my favorite games of all time, I say it was fitting that Rayman 3 got an anniversary drawing.

April - Bomberman 40th Anniversary Pieces

One of the big strides I made in 2023 was joining in serious art collabs. I have dabbled in art collabs before in 2021 but now I joined stuff that had actual scale and it was neat to see. The Bomberman Collab I particularly enjoyed as I found some new people along the way. It was an experience I would like to relive.

May - Across the Radio Frequencies

Around May 2023, I wanted a new wallpaper, and putting 2 and 2 together I made myself an all-new wallpaper. NGL I really like how experimental this was for me. It stands out a lot compared to the rest of my gallery.

June - Almost like Brothers

For June I decided to remake an older drawing of mine that I felt like had some major potential to it. That being the 2021 Almost like Brothers drawing. NGL I really like how the remake turned out. It's goofy, silly, but also fun.

July - Bothered Basterd (Artfight)

Artfight Year 2 was a little weaker than year 1 but still had some great pieces. Out of all of them this one is my favorite. It was a little hard to choose but that one is my favorite since I liked drawing the character in question, Dust Bunny.

August - Super Nilla's Coffee Mania

FizzyRizz could not get a real job, so he had to gamble all of his money to Super Nilla's Coffee Mania. 

September - Pyoro leaks Nintendo's files

So remember that saga on Twitter where this Pyoro Twitter account leaked a Nintendo Direct? Yeah this drawing is based off that. NGL Pyoro is a fun character to draw, and the drawing turned out great.

October - Secret Monster Collab Tristone - The Princess (The Princess Society)

Now this is another art event I participated in. I enjoyed this drawing pretty well but once again it's the vibe of collaboration that made this one. So yeah, nothing much else to say. 

November - 2 Decades of Hominid

So, did you know that 2 Alien Hominid games came out in November 2023? Yeah I celebrated it with this drawing. It was a lot of commitment but the effort was worth it, since I honestly consider it the best drawing I made this year.

December - A random Mushly

Yeah I drew some dumb Mushly here since I wanted to do one last thing but I was too lazy lmfao.

-----

I don't have any advanced thoughts on 2023's art tbh, it was another year filled with improvements. If there is something, in particular, I enjoyed a lot compared to previous years, it was the collabs I participated in. Even if I hate how the art community acts a lot of the time, I still have to admit that when artists come together to celebrate something, it can make for a fun experience. The only other thing I have to say is that I hope real life doesn't get in the way of my hobbies since I still really like doing art even if it can be hard to fit it in sometimes. That is all I have to say really. See y'all in 2024!

[adamwatchesmovies]

Allegro non troppo (1976)

Allegro non troppo is a 1976 Italian parody of Walt Disney’s Fantasia. "Obscure" is the correct adjective considering it came 36 years after the film it's lampooning. Only die-hard animation fanatics are likely to seek it out but the effort is worth it. Even if you haven’t delved deep into the medium, this is a funny, clever - occasionally inspired film.

This musical anthology begins in a dingy theater where “The Presenter” (Maurizio Micheli) introduces “A new and original film” where “you will see music and hear drawings”, a feat which has never been done before… except by some American called Grisney, or Prisney or something like that. With his domineering orchestra master (Néstor Garay), an ensemble of old ladies playing the instruments and a frazzled editor, they bring the following pieces to life: Claude Debussy's Prélude à l'après-midi d'un faune, about a randy elderly satyr who attempts to pass off as young and virile to get the attention of beautiful nymphs and dryads.

Antonín Dvořák's Slavonic Dance No. 7, Op. 46, in which a solitary caveman inventor gets tired of his brethren imitating him and leads them into war and dictatorship.

Maurice Ravel's Boléro, a direct parody of the Rite of Spring segment of Fantasia which shows the evolution of life on a strange planet from a discarded Coca-Cola bottle.

Sibelus’s Valse trise, a purposely dramatic segment that follows a lonely cat wandering through a now-abandoned house.

Vivaldi’s Concerto in C major for 2 Oboes, 2 Clarinets, Strings and Continuo RV 559, which follows the misadventures of a bee preparing to dine on a flower.

Stravinsky’s The Firebird, where the serpent in the Garden of Eden fails to tempt Adam and Eve with the fruit of knowledge and eats it himself instead.

This is a delightfully low-brow film. It knows it’s late to the game parodying Walt Disney so it pretends as though it has no idea what film it’s riffing on. Whereas Fantasia was targeted towards adults and aimed to do something new by using abstract imagery and (mostly) scientific theory to explain the beginnings of life on our planet, Allegro non troppo (whose title is a play on words and can mean either "Not So Fast!” or “Joyful, but not too much”) frequently throws cheap humor at the screen. Horny old goat men, fake-looking gorilla costumes, slapstick, trees whose fruits resemble engorged breasts, rear ends pointed at the screen, gratuitous violence... nothing is off limits. The visuals are nowhere near those found in the 1940 masterpiece, though those in Boléro are delightfully and weirdly beautiful. For that segment alone, the film is worth seeing. The whole thing is experimental and wonderfully varied in terms of style and tone but in the case of the first two stories, it can also look kinda crap. At least the jokes, mean-spirited as they may occasionally be, make you laugh. I wish they’d put a stronger opening number to avoid scaring away apprehensive viewers but who is tracking this film down except those determined to see it through?

Making this Bruno Bozzetto film particularly enjoyable is its willingness to go all-out. Just when you think it’s trying to say something serious the film will subvert everything it just showed you with a cheap joke. Damn you movie. I was so enraptured by your visuals and audio I’d forgotten what I was watching and you make fun of me for it! Got to hand it to you for finding something else to ridicule: the unsuspecting audience! Numerous segments can be interpreted as legitimate criticisms of society as a whole, and as long, elaborate gags with splendid punchlines. Some of the jokes are dumb, but smart people are behind them.

There are relatively few animated anthology films out there and although they’ve had a bit of a resurgence lately, most of them are used to promote video games or keep the masses invested in previously-established properties. Allegro non troppo is something else. It’s not classy like Fantasia but deserves, in a strange way, to be placed next to it on your shelf, and not just because seeing one after the other adds to your enjoyment of both. (Original Italian with typo-riddled subtitles on DVD, September 1, 2018)

[umbral-stigmata-unbound]

"Wha--wait, idiot, don't just-!" he tried to stop the SOLDIER from going on ahead, as he planned to actually plot out a safe path, but fucking hell, this guys was more reckless than him, and if one knew the notes in HR stacked under his name, one would know that was saying something.

SOLDIERs could be bullheaded, though, so he wouldn't continue wasting his breath. He just stowed his EMR and tried to patiently plot his course. He started after Zack Fair as the other was making his way further and further down. It was when he heard the tell tale schwip of a slip, and he glanced down to watch him fall.

"fucking hell..."

Well, at least he was okay enough to holler back up. Reno certainly took his time longer than he'd usually like, to ensure he made it without repeating the others mistake.

Once he'd made it almost down, he leapt down the rest of the way before strolling up to the boat Fair was currently just staring at and doing nothing. "The hell, soldier boy, we just gonna stand around or--fuck... SHIT, this is ASS!!" he complained, and kicked the banged up boat, watching the slithering of a few of the other snakes weaving deeper in, and he took a few steps back.

There was stuff littered around here, on the duck and in some small shed and storage compartment just a short walk to their left, but would it be enought o repair the boat? They couldn't call for back up except for extraction--this situation had gotten too serious for that, and time was running out.

"Okay, just drag that piece of trash outta the water, and try not to bang it up too much more, yeah? I'm gonna look for materials!" he hurried off, tearing into the shed and the container, looking for any sort of metal or anything they could warp and shape and work to patch up the holes. How they were gonna do that, he wasn't sure. Maybe experimental magic use...? Fuck, this sucked ass. All he found were a few sheets of metal, banged up but not wholey, and a few floating devices. And an oar, but only one.

He started dragging it back then. "Ya know, if you hadn't been running your mouth before, we could've caught up with them sooner!" Reno complained, absolutely ignoring the fact that he too had his moments of talking a big game and thinking he had the upper hand. He knew they'd both screwed up, but he wasn't about to fail this assignment.

"CLIMB down?" He reeled back like Reno suggested they lick that gross lookin' thing he found on the side of the highway. He turned to gauge the challenge field, scuffing his boot at the edge of the cliff. He might have said 'BORING' but.... er, actually, didn't look like a very boring task at all. Jagged rocks jutting up to receive them at the bottom ASIDE, the surface was slick as monkey shit.

"Uhh... okay. Let me go first though." Just in case he found the impossibility of actually successfully running through what turned out to be an inevitable pathway forward.

He slipped down the side, peeking up over the edge just long enough to leave his instructions. "If I fall..... avenge me. Oh and maybe choose a different route." He began the painstaking process of putting one toe in front of the other, gloved fingers trying to find traction enough to hold tight to the surface.

The problem now [outside of the route they had to take to GET to the supposed hidden location of the 'artifact' in question], was the stir they already caused getting to that point. Now it was absolutely certain that whomever was responsible for the theft knew damn well that ShinRa was hot on their tail. Hence, a Soldiers presence. Any resistance would be met with a Soldiers might, there could be no other resolution.

A lost artifact. He had a general idea of what it looked like, but not much more than that. Which MEANT that ShinRa didn’t want them to know much more, for fear they would be able to discern exactly what it was used for. Probably should be more disturbed by that. But he was more so bothered that this thing was out in the wilds, clenched in unknown hands.

For the moment, Zack focused on the climb. Slow and stead definitely wont he race, any faster than there wasn't a doubt in his mind he would have fallen to his doom. His boots stepped on the rocky ground at the bottom and

----SLIP

'SHit FUck'

Fell right on his ass with an agonized groan.

"Ahhhhh that's fine." He whimpered, rubbing at the small of his back. "I don't need my right ass cheek. WATCH THE BOTTOM." He called up, dragging himself back upright, CAREFUL now to step with CARE to their waiting----

Steed.

Zack cast a look down at the boat in question, and the snake looking up at him from one of the several gaping holes in the bottom. It stared like:

'What, bitch?'

Not terribly disturbed that he'd come unnoticed upon its territory. Eventually it slithered back in the hole and disappeared into the depths of thewater.

"Okay. Not gonna work." He didn't tell Reno though. Not yet. He needed to focus on getting down without dying.

[soobrat]

oblivious; csb

pairing; dom!soobin x sub afab!reader

words; 2.1k

genre; friends to lovers, smut, fluff

warnings; dirty talk, fingering, PIV, dacryphilia(?), degradation, slightly cruel soobin (very slight), pet names (love and baby), use of the l word (two times in a row?!?!)

preface; a little short and sweet Soobin thingy. Tell me what you guys think ;)

thank you for 2k+ notes!

"I don't... I-I don't feel too well." Soobin stammers. He feels stiff underneath you as you play with his black locks.

"You don't?! Are you sick?" You lean back and press your palm to his forehead. His cheeks grow an even deeper shade of red. "You're burning up!"

Soobin chuckles, pulling your hand away from his face.

"And you're supposed to be the older one..." His expression drops, shifting into something more serious.

"What's that supposed to mean?" You shift on your knees as you quirk one of your eyebrows. Soobin rolls his eyes with a deep exhale.

"No. I'm not sick."

"Then what's the matter?" No matter how confused you look, Soobin just continues to look back at you like you're ridiculous. The fact that you couldn't put the pieces together by now was astonishing to him. You looked so innocent as you straddled him, so close to pressing your core against his growing bulge. This was the position you chose to "play with his hair", and you don't see one thing wrong with it.

Soobin grabs you by your hips and you gasp. You stare at him, eyes wide. He continues to stare into your eyes so intensely that you look away. You're not sure what's gotten into him, but all you could focus on was your noisy heartbeat.

He pulls you down so you were sitting flat on his lap. You flinch, not expecting something to feel something... protruding.

"I guess I am sick. Sick of you torturing me and not even noticing." The Soobin who was constantly flustered and shy was dead and gone. The man who stared back at you was a stranger. An intriguing one at that.

You grind forward experimentally and Soobin's eyes clench shut. He grits his teeth, a strangled noise escaping from his mouth. His large hands gripping your hips tighter makes your core ignite. Curiously, you continue grinding against him.

You caress his face and watch fondly as he leans into your touch. Ah, so this is what you were too oblivious to see. It wasn't entirely your fault. To assume someone as good looking and kind as Soobin was attracted to you seemed laughable. Sure he was a bit shy and clumsy, but he was still way out of your league. Anyone with working eyes could see. But now that you're equipped with this knowledge, you felt unstoppable. 

"I'm sorry for torturing you. Let me make you feel good now." With a sultry look in your eyes, you lean in, letting them flutter closed as you close the distance. He tilts his head slightly, eagerly kissing you back as his hips buck into yours. You moan into his mouth in response to the sweet friction. You clench around nothing as you imagine sliding him inside you.

"Fuck me." You mumble against his lips. Soobin pulls back to analyze your expression. You have a drowsy look on your face as your hips lightly grind into him. The image makes him shudder from the intense arousal shooting through his body, sending a jolt straight to his crotch. He subconsciously bucks up again and you toss your head back. The sweet noise that falls from your lips has him frantically unbuckling his jeans. 

You pull your panties off from under your skirt and toss them on the ground behind you. His cock is hidden underneath the fanned out fabric. A thought crosses his mind to flip it out of the way, but he decides he kind of likes the sight. He sends his hand underneath your skirt to touch your mound. You flinch when his slender fingers come in contact with your moistened lips. A soft mewl leaves your higher ones as you encourage him, pushing your hips further into his touch. The action sends Soobin's fingers past your folds. When they meet your tight hole, a small gasp leaves his lips.

His eyes slide up your body until they meet your eyes. At first, he looked a bit in disbelief at how tight you were, then a mischievous grin slowly stretches across his face. 

"You're really sorry?" He quirks his head to the side as he asks, knitting his brows together. Answering was hard when he was distracting you with his finger circling your entrance. You nod, swallowing hard, you hope he'd push it in already. "I don't know... something tells me you're not quite sorry yet."

"I said I was-" Your sentence was cut off by a loud gasp when he gathers slick on his middle and ring finger before plunging them inside you. You stabilize yourself on his shoulders, eyes clenching shut. 

"I can make you sorry, love. Make you mean it." He breathes out the last part, looking up at you through his lashes. You whimper in response, not knowing what else to do. Your brain turned to mush the second his fingers began hammering into you. 

Just a moment ago, you were having a platonic moment between friends. Now the wet sounds of Soobin pounding his fingers inside you filled the quiet room. You whine, laying your head in the crook of his neck. The action made his heart swell. If he wasn't so overwhelmed by his fingers being swallowed up by his crush's cunt, he'd be swooning about how cute you were. But he couldn't, not when your body was pressed against him, pressing his throbbing dick between the two of you. 

You were a trembling mess, thighs quivering around his hand. The soft and plush flesh felt heavenly, and if he were close enough he'd bite it. There was so much material for him to jerk off to for years and years on end. Namely your hot walls enveloped around his fingers, and the way they clenched them every so often. It was almost pathetic how worked up you were already. Just from his fingers. Just from him.

"What? Can't handle it? I thought you were sorry?" He cooes teasingly. His lips were right next to your ear, his deep voice sending chills down your spine. "Aw come on. Be good and take it." He flattens out his hand so that his palm hits your clit with every punishing thrust. 

It felt as though a coil in your stomach was compressing tighter and tighter with each plunge of his long fingers. He sent them so deep inside you, clapping his palm hard and fast against your cunt. You wanted to protest, to insist you could handle it, but each loud and wanton moan you made gave it away.

"Gonna cum already?" He laughs mockingly. You whine into his neck, pressing pathetic kisses against it. They're enough to make Soobin's eyes heavier as a soft sigh leaves his lips. "Go ahead, love. Cum all over my fingers."

The coil snaps open unexpectedly. It makes you inhale sharply, mouth lying open to make way for moans that never exactly come. "Good girl." He purrs, admiring just how much arousal was dripping from your core. The feeling of his fingers coated in your essence wrapped around his cock causes a warm sensation in his stomach, getting hotter and hotter. The second his tip was pressed against your cunt he was letting out a choked out moan.

You were so soft, warm, and so fucking wet. This was his wildest dream finally coming true. You pull away from his neck, tongue darting between your lips to moisten them. You looked so ready to be wrecked by his cock. 

"You want this, baby?" Soobin asks with raised eyebrows as he pushes his tip against your entrance. It was so close to breaching but not quite. You whine with an eager nod. "You wanna cum again already? Huh?" You nod again and Soobin looks as though he was about to deliver bad news. Shaking his head and making a noise of disapproval. "I don't think you deserve it." He reports with a faux sympathetic look on his face. 

A whine creaks from your throat, eyes filling with tears from just how desperate you were for his dick. "I think I should just make you suck my cock instead, and then I'll leave you like this." He smiles impishly when you pout at him with those glassy eyes.

"You're so cruel, Soobin."

He grabs your face with both hands and brings you closer. He presses a chaste kiss to your lips before pulling away. "Now you know how I feel every time you press your ass or your breasts against me. You couldn't read the room to save your life." He chuckles before pressing a kiss to your cheek. You bite your lip, savoring every ounce of attention you got from him. 

"Tell me you're sorry baby." He says softly, loving hands caressing your face. 

"I'm sorry." You whisper weakly, wiggling your aching core just over his penis. 

"Good girl." He breathes before shoving your hips down. You gasp loudly as his cock shoots deep into your vagina. A salacious moan breaks free as his member sloshes inside you. His fingers opening you up made for smooth sailing. His hard dick pumps inside you with ease and your legs are already turning to jello. "Say it again." He groans as he looks into your eyes longingly. 

"I'm sorry." You whimper as you clench your eyes shut. Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you soak up the sweet pleasure.

"Sorry for what?"

"I'm sorry for torturing you Soobin I'm so sorry." You begin sobbing as his cock drags against your walls so perfectly. Each pull on your hips elicits a pornographic moan from the both of you. 

"I know you are baby. But it's okay because you're making it up to me now, right?" You nod as tears flood your cheeks. His lips latch onto yours, drinking in every pathetic moan. How pathetic you were for him made him want to fuck you forever. Soobin doesn't even have to ask again, you're chanting apologies as your thighs begin to quake. Mumbling against his lips like a brainless slut.

"Is this what my cock does to you, baby?" He asks with a proud smile. 

"It's so fucking good, 'Bin." you slur, tits bouncing underneath your top. The sight is downright mouth watering and Soobin savors it. A decade of masturbation material had been accumulated by this point. He wasn't sure if he'd even need it, knowing this was how worked up you got from his cock. He felt like he was on top of the world with your cunt gripping his dick like this. 

"Fuck... you're so fucking beautiful." Soobin starts thrusting up to meet your hips. By this point you both were entranced. Laser focused on reaching your highs. Your body had gone completely limp and you were thankful for his strong grip on your hips. His eyes were clenched shut, sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. "You're so perfect, baby."

His fingernails imprint moon-shaped indents into your flesh. This was it, he was going to cum inside the girl of his dreams. A string of incoherent curses leave his lips as his thrusts lose their rhythm but grow in power. His thighs were starting to hurt from your ass repeatedly landing on them. He couldn't care any less, in fact, he enjoyed the pain. Almost as much as he enjoyed the view before his eyes as he reopened them. Your tongue hanging out of your swollen lips as you mindlessly take his cock. You were so good for him, he wanted to tell you just how good you were. However, his high was approaching fast judging by the pool of fire in his lower abdomen.

He clenched his teeth as he rocketed his hips into yours. Your cunt was like a vice at this point, clenching him so tightly he almost couldn't thrust any more. Your stomach was tied in knots, yearning for that sweet release.

Maybe it was the intense euphoria you were experiencing, but you felt the words rolling off your tongue. "I love you Soobin-" You chanted it over and over with a mixture of guttural moans ripping through. Soobin's eyes snap open again, watching your beautiful lips as you said the words that made his heart nearly burst. He wrapped his arms around you before drawing you closer. Your bodies were pressed tightly together as his hips drove into yours. The fire spread to the rest of his body and consumes him. His vision went blank, shooting his load into your tight hole.

The sight of him cumming and his hard thrusts release the knots in your abdomen. You moan loudly as you release. Your body flops forward, fully hugging him back.  He heaves against you before chuckling slightly.

"You love me?"

"Ugh..." You whine into his neck. "That was so embarrassing Soobin." You say quietly. 

"I'm just happy I could make you feel that good." He pulls you back slightly to press his soft lips against your forehead. "My oblivious princess."

You groan and punch his shoulder as he laughs at your expense.