#i don't know what his form looked like anyways

[transyashiro]

Hi, genuine question, why transandrophobia is not real? I just thought it was a word to describe the transphobia specifically targeted to transmascs, but if that is not the case id like to be corrected. Also your art is so beautiful I love it!

hey anon. firstly, thank you, i'm glad you like my art. secondly, i am at the end of the day just a guy who draws sometimes. this is a question which was already answered many times by transfeminists on here, and ideally you'd want to get the perspectives of tma people rather than mine. and just in general, keep up with discussions of transmisogyny and listen to transfems, yeah?

all that said, since you are asking me personally... to put it as simply as i can: transandrophobia, or transmisandry, is not real because misandry is not real. that should be the end of the discussion, really. there is no need for a special word to describe transphobia targeted at transmascs, because transphobia and/or other forms of oppression (real ones, Not misandry) depending on any particular situation already cover everything. why is there a desire for a special word to begin with, anyway? girls got one, we want one too? c'mon

but also like, all that aside, regardless of how real or not real transandrophobia is, it is a dog whistle. if someone associates with the transandrophobia crowd, they are most likely a transmisogynist. that should be enough of a reason to steer away from those guys and not trust them. sure, some posts by them might seem compelling or validating at a glance, i've definitely seen younger trans guys who don't know any better start looking in that direction because they feel like they are finally being given a tool to discuss their experiences. i assume that's partially why your question is framed like that, too, because a simple "we just want a word to discuss our oppression" is a lot more convincing than "we hate trans women and want to make them out to be the true oppressors" or "we're just men rights activists but with a trans flag, which also means that we are incapable of oppressing trans women because of our inherent connection to womanhood. don't worry about what that logic implies about our views of trans women" or... you get the picture. it's transmisogyny through and through, you don't even need to dig much

again, i hope you'll look more into what trans women have to say on this, it would do more good than my short clumsy explanation, but hopefully it at least gives you some vague idea

[vaguely-concerned]

walking through lucanis' mind prison. the tam lin of it all

[sammysbrokenheart]

Infinity.

Summary: You and Billie met before the fame and the fortune, but some things aren't always meant to be. (written in your pov)

Billie and I have been attached at the hip since we were 14. We did everything together and that's how we like it.

When we turned 15 it turned into something flirty. It was so innocent though. Two best friends seeing each other differently. That was also around the time Ocean Eyes happened.

Billie's life changed rapidly, but your bond stayed exactly the same. Somewhere during all the chaos you two fell in love and your best friendship turned into your first ever relationship.

"Baby I miss you," she says over the phone. That was the only way that we could communicate lately because Billie became so busy.

"I miss you too my love," I say sitting up from my bed. It was the middle of the night, between all of the touring and craziness she always tried to call. She sometimes forgets that timezones exist.

"When I get home I'm gonna spoil you rotten baby," She said and I could feel my heart skip a beat.

She's supposed to come home in three days and I can't wait to finally see her again. In three days is also my 18th birthday and in all the years of dating (all two years) she always made sure to make your day special.

I remember last years birthday was so romantic. She filled my bedroom with balloons and other cute decorations. After the shock died down we had dinner and watched Spirited Away. That's our favourite movie to watch together.

~~~next day~~~

"Why the face?" my brother asked when we were busy washing and drying the dishes the next day. I almost cut my hand from shock because my mind was so occupied.

"Yesterday Billie and I were talking and I don't know... I feel uneasy," I say handing him the knife in my hand.

"Why?" my brother said with a confused look on his face.

"I don't know I haven't heard from her since then and I know it could be nothing, but it doesn't feel like that..." I say scrubbing the plate in my hand.

"Come on it's Billie we're talking about... She loves you," he said slowly taking the plate out of my hand.

I could feel tears forming in my eyes and my heart felt heavy. She did love me. I kept repeating that to myself

"Heyyy stop doing that! It's gonna be okay," he pulled me into his arms and I couldn't help but cry.

~~~next day~~~

I woke up bright and early. I couldn't sleep from excitement anyway. I spent the better half of my morning picking something to wear and when I finally did it was 10 am, I spent 3 hours picking something to wear.

My parents and brother surprised me with a very sweet birthday breakfast. After the birthday breakfast my best friend Allan and Britney came to drag me away to some surprise.

I tried not to be too excited about it. I kept thinking that maybe Billie was waiting at the destination, hidden away somewhere to surprise me, but that wasn't the case. The surprise was a lovely picnic with all of our other friends. They sang for me and baked me the most delicious cake yet somewhere deep inside I was disappointed.

I looked down at my phone, no message.

"Come in birthday girl let's go take some pictures by the lake," Britney pulled me up from where I was sitting and dragged me to where the others were standing. Allan brought her camera and she was super excited to take some pictures.

After another hour they took me back home. At home my mother and father were in the backyard chatting and my brother was nowhere no be found.

Time passed slowly and before I knew it, it was dark. I stared up at the ceiling. Every second felt agonizing because they were seconds without Billie. Maybe I jinxed myself? Why did I say what I did yesterday?

I picked up my phone and tried to call her. What if something was wrong and she wasn't okay? Her call went straight to voicemail which was very unlike her and that made me panic even more.

The next morning came slowly. Anxiety kept me awake all night, this horrible feeling landed in the pit of my stomuch. I slowly dragged myself out of bed and went straight to the bathroom.

I decided to freshen up and take a shower immediately. There was no use in trying to sleep again. I went to pick up my phone and saw that it's off, it must have died in the middle of the night.

After placing my phone on charge I went down stairs to make myself some breakfast. Suddenly there was a knock at the door.

"I know I fucked up and I know you're probably mad at me, but I swear I can explain," Billie said as soon as the door opened.

I could feel my heart melt. All the anger and disappointment disappeared the moment I saw her.

"Y/N..." she said again and I realized that I must have zoned out.

Without any warning I wrapped my arms around her holding her tightly. It felt so comforting to be in her arms again like finally coming home after a long trip. Billie was my home.

"Let me make it up to you?" she asked and I nodded immediately. I didn't care what we were doing or what she had planned as long as we were together.

She was recognized all day and because she has such a big heart she made sure to give every fan equal attention. It made my heart swell to see her interact with her fans. It made me proud. At the same time spending time with Billie made me realize that I had no idea who she was anymore.

In the middle of our outing to the movies she got a call. She apologized profusely whispering frantically as she quickly got up and rushed out of the movie theater.

I sat there frozen staring at the screen. For some reason I couldn't move and for a moment it felt like I couldn't move at all.

This was her way to make up for missing my birthday and she left. She left.

That night she was on a plane back to wherever, I didn't care to ask, when she told me she was gone I immediately ended the call.

~~~two months later~~~

I broke up with Billie a week after that incident, I didn't want to, but it was for the best. I refused to watch us slowly drift the way I've been doing. My girlfriend became a stranger to me.

"Okay sis this tree is ugly as hell," my brother said with a judgemental look on his face as he examined my tree decorations.

I stood back looking at my Christmas tree.

"What do you mean!? This is the prettiest fucking Christmas tree ever," I said defensively.

My father peeked through the door, "He's right sweety..."

"Dad why would you take his side!" I said just as the doorbell rang.

I hurried to the door, it was probably Allan coming with her gift for me. I opened the door and immediately closed it and ran back to the living room.

"Who was it?" my brother asked then suddenly the doorbell rang again.

"Don't you dare!" I told him, but he didn't listen.

"Oh my gosh Billie!? Come on in baby!" my mother beat my brother to the door.

My brother bolted along with my dad. Suddenly it was just Billie and I alone in the living room. I quickly walked to the tree and started to remove the decorations. It was fucking ugly.

"This is a God awful tree," she said standing next to me and started helping me remove the decorations.

"Shut up..." I said.

I could feel her look at me every once in a while, but I didn't dare to look at her.

"So... Fuck Y/N look at me!" she said cupped my face in her hands forcing me to look at her.

"Billie I don't know what you're doing here-"

"I am here to get my fucking girlfriend back. At first I was a smart ass and I wanted to prove to myself that I'm alright but I'm fucking not. I'm not fucking alright Y/N," she said. I pushed her hands off of my face and took a step back.

"Y/N I know I get busy and I'm sorry for not always bringing you along on my journey, but I want you here. I want you with me, please let me prove to you how much I want you around," she said and I sighed. I had no idea what I was going to do.

Cliffhanger ♡♡

[heartofjasmina]

A thought just crossed my mind

The Iida brothers (or just one of them) finding out that their sweet little sister is a slut, who's willing to spread her legs for anyone gives her any attention

Or that she works at a glory hole

This-

Tenya Iida had no idea what he was doing here. One of his sidekicks had told him that he needed to 'unwind' and brought him to a dingy sex shop that had.. places in the back where you could get off. It made him feel dirty but it had been far too long since he got off with someone else involved. So he followed his sidekick deeper into the store, all the way to the back where a gloryhole had been installed.

"Have fun doll, brought a real hero for you. And you love heros don't you?" His sidekick called and though Tenya wanted to hit him, his gut twisted when he heard a sweet, familiar voice answer.

"I do. I love heroes. Lots and lots." You almost moaned the words. He should not be getting hard over this.

His sidekick closed the door behind him after giving Tenya a clap on the shoulder and whispering loudly "she's got a hungry lil mouth, and you've more than earned a relaxing break."

It was easy to find the hidden latch that kept you 'protected' in your little cubby. And sure enough, when he damn near ripped it off the hinges, there you were. Fingering your needy pussy and mouth wide open waiting for more dick, and unavoidably his little sister. If he wasn't mistaken you were even wearing one of his shirts.

"T-Ten!" You flushed horribly as your big brother saw you in your debauched state. But all he could think about was the fact that he could still see your tiny fingers buried knuckle deep in your wetness.

"Get up." He barely recognized his own voice, rough and gravelly as it was.

"But--"

"You really don't want push it right now." He took a step forward and grabbed you by the hair, visciously ignoring the way his dick twitch in his pants when he realized that on your knees like that it would be all to easy to fuck your throat.

"Ten, I swear I was just-" Your voice was pitiful, trembling, but still hoarse. Probably from all the dick you'd had down your throat.

"Being a fucking slut. That's what you were doing." It was like fire had taken over his blood, and all filters between his brain and his mouth had been lifted. "If I have to give it to you myself to keep you from offering up your mouth like a two dollar whore, then I will."

"Just wanted you, not them!" You swore, and yeah, Tenya can admit that's what caused him to snap.

"Oh, so instead of admitting you wanted to fuck me like a big girl, you decided to let any hero off the street use you?" He snarled as he dragged your face forward, rutting against your face without remorse.

"I'm sorry, Ten." It was genuine, and you weren't revolted by his crudeness. Hell you were mouthing him through his jeans- looking up at him so needily it made his head spin. "Let me make it up to you." Every kiss to his clothed cock caused him leak pre into his boxers, a dark wet patch forming as his tip grew sticky.

"Take my cock out." He should be worried by how calmly he gave the order. Should've been pissed by how easy and practiced you were as you unbuckled his belt and freed his cock. But all he wanted was to punish you for making him feel this way, wreck you until you were just as fucked up as he was about this.

He had to tighten his grip on your hair when you went to suck him. You fucking whimpered at being denied his cock, like it physically hurt you not to have his heavy girth in your mouth.

"I know you're a cockslut, but you're gonna have to learn some fucking manners if you want my cock sis." And there it was, that tremble in your lower lip and tears gathering in your eyes. The look that always made him ashamed and aroused in equal measure when he was just a bit too mean to you growing up.

"Please can I have your cock, Ten?" He wondered if he should let you start crying for real first, but then reasoned you could cry on his cock later anyway.

"So sweet when you want to be, too bad I don't buy it. Not after finding you here." He sneered down at you as he released your hair. "But a deals a deal. Make me cum and maybe I'll think about fucking you."

You were off like a shot, opening your mouth wide and swallowing him down inch by inch until your nose was in his pubes. He wasn't sure who moaned louder as you started to bob your head. It was a slow, wet, nasty yet utterly loving blow job that Tenya knew would ruin him for any other girl after you.

"You shouldn't be this good, fuck-" Ten had to resist the urge to skullfuck your perfect little mouth. You hadn't earned any effort on his part yet, but it was heaven and hell giving you free reign. "How many dicks did you have to suck to get this fucking perfect?" He was babbling to himself, lost in the pleasure of your hot wet tongue and throat.

Then he felt your tongue on his balls, little kitten licks every time you deep throated him, threatening what little sanity he had left.

"They're so full they ache sis, all for you. Feel 'em." Your fingers were sticky when they cupped his balls reverently, and his cock throbbed in your mouth when he remembered why. His gut tightened and he knew he wasn't going to last any longer.

"Gonna cum, y/n-" He didn't know why he bothered to warn you, you swallowed him to the root and looked him in the eyes- silently pleading for his load.

His balls drew up as he unloaded down your throat, and you moaned like it was the most delicious treat in the world. Your eyes grew unfocused as you struggled to keep up with every thick spurt of seed. Tenya swore he had never came so hard in his life.

The problem became evident when you wouldn't let his dick go.

"Hey-"

You ignored him, your tongue massaging the vein on the underside of his shaft before you pulled back and started making out with his tip. Tonguing his slit for every last drop- completely lost in your worship of him.

So he had to grab your hair again to haul you off growling, "Enough."

You pouted at him, every bit the spoiled baby of the family. "More, Ten. Please?"

He scoffed, tucking himself away and throwing his jacket at you- already a plan forming in his mind on how exactly he was supposed to handle you and your insatiable mouth.

"Get dressed. Lets see what Tensei has to say."

[tinybeetiny]

Bought by Ateez

Please understand this is satire and a joke. Please don't take this seriously, and don't come in my messages telling me how cringey this is BECAUSE I KNOW…. I was feeling sentimental and was reminiscing about my 2012-2015 years…. If you think this is cringey… that’s the whole point. I literally cringed the entire time writing this, but that’s the fun of it. Anyway!!

Cw: CRINGE, HUMAN TRAFFICKING BECAUSE THATS EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS AND WHY DID WE ROMANTICIZE IT AS 13 YEAR OLDS… I cannot lie though…. I was so obsessed with those kidnapped by one direction fics on Wattpad… maybe that’s why I’m so into yandere…

Taglist (I'm so sorry): @e3ellie @yoonshiiu If you would like to be a part of the taglist please fill out this form

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist

(Y/n) woke up to the sound her alarm going off. She sat up in her very small twin bed that was in her shoe closet sized room. She stretches her tiny arms as she yawns. “(Y/N) GET DOWN HERE NOW YOU USELESS EXCUSE OF A DAUGHER” she heard mother call for her. She hopped out of bed to throw her long brown hair into a perfect messy bun, threw on the only pair of pants she had which were her light wash ripped skinny jeans and pulled her cream colored sweater on. When she got down the stairs she saw eight men she’s never seen before. Each man stared at her taken aback by her beauty. ‘How could a mother want to sell a daughter so beautiful?’ They all collectively thought “(y/n) you poor excuse for a child. I’m selling you to Ateez because I need more money for drugs.” Her mother spits as she grabs the poor girls arm and throws her to the gentlemen in front of them “B-but why?” The girl felt tears in her eyes “I just told you. I want more money for drugs and I never wanted you anyways. I was just waiting for the day I could get rid of you” The men felt their blood boiling at the words of her mother was spewing out. “Okay that’s enough. We gave you the money already. We’ll be going now” the shortest the eight says sternly to her mother before grabbing her hand gently “Why don’t we go pack your clothes and stuff” he says more gently “I uh I don’t have anything else” she says looking down ashamed. The men sigh feeling bad for what she’s had to go through “OH! Let’s go shopping!” “Oh! Wooyoung had a good idea for once” “Jongho be nice” she watches the grown men bicker amongst themselves. The one holding her hand speaks up “Let’s go and get you some new clothes jagi” she can’t help blush at the nickname.

(Y/n) didn’t know how to feel. A big part of her was very happy she didn’t have to live with that vile woman anymore but now she’ll have to live with eight strange men each one looking like they just stepped out of a GQ magazine. She noticed the glares she got as she walked around the mall with them and she couldn’t help but feel insecure “Are you okay?” She looked over to see the kindest eyes she’d ever seen “Um this just all feels so w-weird” she stutters out “I totally understand! But things can only get from here, right? I’m Seonghwa but you can call me Hwa” "OH MY GOSH GUYS! We never introduced ourselves. I'm Wooyoung, the sexy one" He says sending her a wink "I'm Mingi" "Jongho" "Yunho" "I'm San" "Hi I'm Yeosang" "And I'm Hongjoong" The short one says with a smile. She looked around already forgetting who was who, except Hongjoong "There's so many of you" "It's okay sweetheart, you'll learn very quickly" The group continued to walk through the mall and (y/n) thought that maybe this won't be so bad

[formleadsfunction]

remember when I used to write SAYER fic? remember when i posted very vanilla platonic bdsm hale/nanites!sayer? that was pretty cool, i realized, while re-reading and slightly editing it!

reposting this thing i titled "map reading" mainly for @kamil-a bc they keep getting me re-invested in this podcast, mwah.

takes place post canon ig, nobody can tell me otherwise bc adam will never finish and thus joss it <3 cw for (not graphically described, more implied) self harm; mentions of canonical injuries

---

"Hold still," you tell him, and he does. He always does exactly what he is told to do. This should, of course, not surprise you. This was, of course, the first thing you truly appreciated about him. No buts, no trying to argue with you like so many others.

You put the collar on him, close the strap at the back of his neck, and he shifts a little on his knees. Blinks at you. You look back without blinking.

Sometimes you are tempted to put the blindfold on him first. You doubt he would argue.

(He always does exactly what he is told to do. He carved a part of himself off because an incorporeal voice told him to. Sometimes you get angry when you think about it. (An emotion that you are aware is linked purely to FUTURE's existence, not the act itself, because whenever it does not make you angry, you are vaguely fascinated by it. By his obedience.))

So, you are certain he wouldn't argue. And in a way, you would prefer it if the blindfold came first. There are things about this that you are not particularly fond of. His eyes on you are one of them. As long as he is able to see, he never takes them off you, not for a second. He stares, and his pupils are wide, and there is something like admiration in them, if you don't entirely misplace the expression. It feels wrong. Mainly because he isn't actually staring at you, he's just staring at... a form, loosely linked to your existence; one you control but don't feel connected to. For a moment, you trail a finger over the leather of the collar, just to see him close his eyes. (That is another thing you do not overly like; you fail to see what exactly it is about the sensation of leather against his naked skin that he enjoys so much. But this is not about you, and you could stop at any time, anyway—he would hardly be able to protest, nor would he want to. Just as he could make you stop with a simple gesture, so could you just drop the act. You don't want to, is the thing.)

"Lift your hands," you tell him, and he does, opening his eyes again as soon as you take your hand off the collar. The cuffs, then; leather again, padded, of course—you do not want to hurt him. If this was what you wanted,

(and he would let you; you think about this often)

you could have just organized an ordinary pair of handcuffs. Uneven metal edges that would bite into his wrists, rubbing them open and tearing them bloody, the way he tends to tug at them. You don't want to, is the thing.

Sometimes, you secure his hands to the headboard, and he likes that; likes the way it limits his range of movement. But today you need his arms within easy reach.

He tugs against the cuffs, just slightly. Enough, you suspect, to make him fully aware that he wouldn't be able to get his wrists free even if he wanted.

Blinks at you again. Slowly, like a cat conveying trustacceptancerespect. (So fond of you, for some reason.) This time, you blink back, and he gives a tiny, automatic smile in response. You don't return the gesture and reach for the blindfold instead. Finally, this.

You watch him closely as soon as you have put it on him. It is easier like this, knowing he is unable to stare straight back. You watch his shoulders in particular, first. The way the tension so visible leaves them as soon as everything is darkness. His breathing immediately calms, evens out. You take the time to look at the rest of him, then. The scars, all the marks his time working for Ærolith has left on this physical form that isn't his original physical form but is his, still, much more than yours will ever be yours.

You stand and move a step away from the edge of the bed. You grab the leash attached to the ring at the front of the collar, wrap it around your hand loosely and give it a small tug. (You don't like that much, either, the metal against your hand, the sound in your ears, but oh, he does; he hears the small chain links clink-clink-clink together, he feels the pull, this input, a moment of pressure, the leather collar pressed more firmly against the back of his neck, and he shivers, just a little, and he follows your lead, because of course, of course he does. He straightens himself. His back makes a concerning sound, and you frown and file this away for later consideration.

(You miss having constant access to his biometric data.)

"Get up," you tell him, and he does. He's sitting on the bed just a few moments later, and you are in front of him, very, very close.

One of your hands is still holding the leash, and you move your fingers every now and then, just to let him hear the sound he so enjoys. You lift the other slowly and start with his forehead. You brush his hair away and trail your fingertips over the two faint scars that are visible like this. Testimonies to the excellent aim of Halcyon's security team. He doesn't move, he stays perfectly still and keeps breathing slowly.

Good.

Farther down, then. The neat scar on his chest, remnants of the surgery the medical team conducted to rid him of the plant matter and the insects that had remained inside of him. The much messier scar telling the story of the mutant plants in the break room.

You trail your fingers over them as if you were reading something. How appropriate—his entire body is a map.

Lower, lower—and here you hesitate. Your hand hovers over the jagged outlines of the first injury he's inflicted on himself, guided by the firm voice of something—someone—he thought was you. Slowly, you touch your fingertips against the marks the instrument FUTURE had provided him with have left on him. You study his face closely as you do. He remains calm, outwardly at least.

"...Alright?" you ask.

(It had not been alright during one of the first times you'd done this, and he had stubbornly refused to use the gesture to let you know, and you had ended up having to talk him out of a panic attack, and all of it had just been extremely inconvenient and slightly annoying. (You had been worried, too, but you don't like to think about this emotion linked to his existence much.))

But he nods, and his breathing doesn't change rhythm, and you resist the urge to place your fingers against the inside of his wrist to check his pulse, and decide to trust him. Your touch remains feather-light as you follow the outlines of that particular scar.

Eventually, you pull it back—you ignore the others, the ones that joined the already impressive collection at some point during his little adventure on Floor 13 while FUTURE had been inside him. You don't like those. You tend to not acknowledge them, most of the time.

Instead, you tell him: "Stretch out your arms."

And a second passes, two, before he does.

There are scars here, as well, spread across both of his lower arms seemingly randomly. No pattern to follow, no one story to tie them all up in. You let your fingers trail over some of them.

He freezes. Flinches a little, as you touch the fresh bandages. You pull your hand back immediately, and wait. Let the metal links of the leash slide through your fingers, clink-clink-clink, and he shivers just like before, and takes a deep breath, nods. Slowly relaxes, until you decide it's fine to reach out and touch him again.

It's not easy, taking the bandages off with only one hand, but you don't want to let go off the leash, not when the casual sound seems so comforting to him, and you manage. You don't touch these cuts, of course. Just examine them. Make sure they look alright. (They do. You always make sure that injuries are taken proper care of, whether he likes it or not.)

He gives a soft sigh when you pull your hand away from his arm, relieved, and you hadn't noticed the slight tension that had snuck back into his shoulders—only realize now that it leaves them again. It bothers you—you really miss having constant access to his biometric data.

"You are doing very well," you say, voice quiet and deliberately sincere, and perhaps he thinks you won't notice the way he bites his lower lip for a moment. Perhaps he hopes you do. Perhaps he doesn't mind either way.

(You do notice, of course you do. You tend to refrain from praising him precisely because you know how well he reacts to it, and because you are still unable to place this reaction entirely. You are not sure whether your praise shifts the whole thing into parameters you... have never actually discussed. This is a practical thing, first and foremost, and you would very much like to keep it that way. (But he is, of course. He is doing very well.))

You tear your eyes away from the cuts on his arm and let them wander up his body again, paying attention to all of the scars once more as if you weren't able to name their exact placement even without looking.

You stop at his face. He looks... peaceful.

(He has freckles. You notice every time.)

((You have ignored them, until now. They are not part of the particular map you are reading during this.))

(((Only that they are, of course, like a map, too. Bursts of them on his nose, a few stray on his left cheek, far more on his right. Like a star map, you think. Like an entire solar system painted onto his face.)))

You lift your free hand and place it against his cheek. If you wanted, you could use your fingers to find and draw constellations, you could, in theory, spend half an hour coming up with names for them. He would let you.

You won't.

He looks surprised for a moment, even with the blindfold on. Body tense, but not in a way that worries you or makes you think that it's too much.

A second passes, another one, and then he turns his head to press his cheek into your palm. You, too, hesitate. Stay like this, frozen for a moment, before you slowly move your thumb to brush it over his lips.

You don't know why you thought of doing it, or what exactly you had expected in return. (You didn't think much at all, is the only logical explanation.) You can hardly blame him for what must seem like the natural reaction—the pressure of his lips as he kisses your finger—but you immediately pull your hand away as if the simple gesture had burned you, anyway.

That was on you, really.

Too affectionate. That's not what you are doing here. That's not what this is for. This is calming. Grounding. Keeps him from doing dangerous, stupidly human things with sharp objects. Most of the time, anyway.

(Part of you wants to leave, just for a moment, just until the thought that he made the conscious decision to kiss you, part of you, feels less overwhelming, but that would, of course, be incredibly bad etiquette. (A yet smaller part of you is tempted to do it regardless. (You don't, naturally. You like clear rules, and you like sticking to them.)))

Instead you sit back and let go of the leash, clink-clink-clink. "I will keep you like this for another few minutes," you tell him, and he nods.

Both of you stay like this, then, quiet. Breathing. Both of you breathing. He's still very, very calm.

Good.

You let a little more than six minutes pass, until he starts shifting slightly, not uncomfortable, you think, so much as made restless by all the silence and the waiting, and then you reach for the blindfold.

"Alright?" you ask again, and he nods and exhales slowly as you pull it off. The cuffs follow, and then the collar.

This part—

"Let me look at your wrists." You grab them both, gently, rub your thumbs over them. The cuffs haven't even left any marks—you knew they must be alright, but

—well. It's less that you dislike this part. You're just not… all that good at it. It feels more like playing a role than the entire rest of it, and you are not exactly… well, you're not someone for cuddling. The thought is, in fact, absurd. You think you would be extremely uncomfortable with the concept.

(You can't be sure, though. Not without trying it. That wouldn't be very scientific; never testing this assumption. But you're not eager to test it.)

You do what you can without feeling clumsy, instead.

You have water for him, hand it to him, make sure he drinks. He does, and he lets you wrap the cuts on his arm, and neither of you speaks, because he seldom does, and because you wouldn't know what to say.

You ask him if he needs anything else, and he shakes his head. Lying on his back, covers pulled up to his chin. He blinks at you. Slowly—content and tired and like a cat and so fond of you, for some reason.

"...But can you—stay? Here? Until, just until I'm asleep?"

You slowly blink back,

(you didn't expect him to speak at all, today)

and nod. "Certainly, yes."

He gives a tiny, automatic smile in response before he closes his eyes, and you sit next to him, and you stay.

[triglycercule]

the way youve ONLY spit facts with every ask i've sent you. NOT A SINGLE ONE OF THESE WASN'T PEAK!!! time to discuss every single hc brought up in this,,,, whenever i think about a "dust gets replaced the most in the trio when w nm" i always think about like. the logistics of that. like if horror wasn't such a COWARD when it came to anything deadly to him (i always think about that one panel of him getting pissed at the suggestion of walking through blue snow,,,,, my cowardly son don't stop being the pathetic loser you are) then i totally think that he'd be up there with death count. a horrortale-less horror with no fear and no reason to live would be SO reckless. UAGH but anyways,,,, i love thinking about this. but also i dont know anymore when it comes to dust and his deaths that people make him a bit TOO reckless. remembering this fic where dust was investigating killer's private business or whatever sneaking around he was and im looking back at it like. dude shouldn't you be trying to get back to dusttale??? YOU HAVE HIGHER PRIORITIES (but the fic was actually good i could dismiss the weirdness). idk i just dont think he'd be SPITEFUL SPITEFUL unless provoked imo. i've spent too much time rambling about these 14 words in this ask,,,,,,

ANYWAYS finally onto the next sentence. maybe the whole post i made about killer keeping an elaborate internal profile on dust and horror wasn't enough but killer with a microscope at the little disposable glass slides that feature horror and dust is just one of my favorite FAVORITE THINGS :333 my favorite,,,, they'd hate it SO much!!! so much,,,, and then onto horror i also think Yes. maybe he sees the new dust making the same mistakes the previous dusts did like disobeying some sort of hidden rule of nightmare's (maybe killer would give him little tips and tricks. but also ALSO horror is literally described as "the closest thing to a hint system" in horrortale so yk,,,, wait i should totally think about this more in a seperate post but ANYWAYS) and he's like ughhh shit i should tell him to stop. but would he be pessimistic enough to not want to do anything to help dust after all of these despite the bafflement??? horror would feel like shit for not intervening but also like his incredible awareness that this is a NEW dust. not the old one that he had some form of a shitty bond,,,, so why even help him AAAAND there pop up the pessimistic mindset that all of the trio have soooo

AND I LIKE TOTALLY THOUGHT ABOUT THIS BEFORE IN A PREVIOUS POST!!! YES!!!! he would. horror DEFINITELY doesn't approve of feeding people humans but dust and killer are the exception. just because they deserve it and it's probably some kind of fucked up self punishment anyways since projection onto another you must be some form of SELF harm. mtt parallels,,,, ANYWAYS no WAY they like that shit in my eyes. like if even HORROR who's used to human consumption and even feeds (haha PUN) into the human food system doesn't like the cannibalism then why the HELL would dust or even emotionless killer would like it. killer doesn't realize it in the moment but after eating that shit he's so damn disgusted and he doesn't even know why. its not even JUST his emotions because UAGH!!! THE BODY IS REACTING TOO!!! THIS SUCKS!!! and dust just. why can't he throw up,,,,,,, but in like a less canon adjacent path they'd freak over this shit. awww horror you fed up a special treat made with love?? thats so sweeeeet <333 i can't describe it well through text but i can imagine it in my head. creep time trio my beloved. when they ditch the "danger to eachother" part of "danger to eachother and everyone around them" and instead just decide to be public service enemies to everyone around them!!!!!!

buubonita you sneaky little mosquito THIS NEXT HC IS JUST YOUR LITTLE FIC SNIPPETS YOU POSTED!!! you THOUGHT your amazing writing could sneak past ME; TRIGLYCERCULE: rememberer of nothing but the murder time trio. you fool,,,,, i was wondering what the context behind that snippet was. liiike did killer rip out his eye for some reason??? he got THAT curious??? but yeah that makes more sense for there to be some other reason. but i am not You and The Writer so that's up to you to decide bludbonita. that snippet reminded me of this mini horrordust comic where dust donated his eye to an eyeless horror??? i dont remember it was like last year but anyways

would horror play the trombone in front of the two i Don't Know because that leans more into Sans Undertale canon for me to comment on. i am a LIAR i say i am a fan of the murder tine trio bu i dont even know much about their origin...... (moving on) CAT DOG RABBIT TRIO MENTIONED,,,,, YES!!! YES!!!!!! YEAASASAGGHHHHHHH!!!!! killer likes cats for obvious reasons,,,, horror would like dogs because idk (aside from him giving off dog vibes imo) dogs used to be like. wolves. hunter gatherer helpers. horror "hunts" even though all the hunting is just him playing psychological games with humans and leading them to their demise. HE LITERALLY IS THE PHRASE SLY DOG THAT'S LITERALLY HIM. and then obvious dust bunny pun. if i were well versed enough in like animal symbolism id probably find a serious rabbit connection to him. or maybe hare. perhaps on a rainy day i shall research for my trio!

that sleeping mask hc is SO CUTE,,,, THATS SO FUCKING CUTE I LOVE THAY I LOVE IT SOOOO MUCH EDYAGAHHHH!!!! RUDAGAH!!!!!! kitty face mask perhaps. it might get stained or degraded with his eye goop but still,,,, bro probably doesn't even close his eyes behind the mask but at least he doesn't get the extra sensory stimulation. and they dont get JUMPSCARED seeing killer sleep with his eyes open (they look even more empty than usual when he's asleep). the inner fluff lover in me came out in this little hc (which i will in fact be adopting thank you very much. this one is too good to pass up!)

i ALSO really love this one. dare i say i've never actually considered how they ALL would snap themselves out of dissociation (UNFORTUNATELY i don't have multiple brains. nor is mine fully developed yet. that is Okay) but this is so,,,4 rhavh the way that physical touch is how they all ground themselves??? funny how killer's the only NOT dangerous to himself too💀 i should probably do more research on dissociation but i do like the biting hands thing to snap dust out of what im gonna guess as more of an emotional detachment from the people and situation around him. maybe when things get BAD BAD he like. shoots some bones at himself. as if biting wasn't bad enough but at least he gets some penitentiary retribution through this. and then horror TOO but maybe with the depressive life that he lives in. maybe to remind himself that not EVERYTHING is pointless and wont lead to anything because uhhh it DOES lead to SOMEWHERE. at least what he's reminding himself of is the worst possible somewhere that things could lead to but ehhhh whatever idk im not a professional on this

FINALLY last hc,,,,, yeah he does that. what the fuck man horror could pop out the most HILARIOUS bangers and he gets NOTHING back??? smh he needs to raise his standards and take his ass to someone better (his standards are RAISED it is just that unfortunately horror has no other choice. dust and killer aren't even the best he could settle with)

the way that this was SO long..... enjoy this ramble. i didn't LIE when i said i'd respond to every ask of mine you answer 😈😈😈

dear buubonita,

it's gotten to the point that i'm running out of ask ideas so now i have to resort to my trump card: MTT ASKS!!!! what are you,,,,,r favorite,,,,, mtt hcs that you have for them,,,,,,,, even if its worlds most basic hc IDC (devours the mtt content)

denied from the pearly gates, triglycercule

MTT headcanons! here we go. They're not that big of a deal though.

Dust is the one who's been replaced the most times out of the group, Killer being the detail-oriented guy that he is, is able to tell the slight differences, starting with the fact that Dust doesn't know them, but their tastes tend to vary a bit.

Like the old Dust likes bourbon and the new one prefers vodka instead. Very insignificant things that serve as a reminder that the Dust they know is gone. Horror has a bad memory, but not when it comes to remembering his teammates' antics. He feels baffled, not just because Nightmare took Dust from them one day and shoved another in their faces as if they couldn't possibly know what's going on.

A shorter hc is that Horror has fed Killer and Dust human parts before. It was on a "date". Dust felt a bit uneasy, Killer took it for what it is; something new. Killer never stops trying something new. (We get it, stfu with the joke)

Whether or not they enjoy human flesh, I'll leave to your own amusement.

Dust had his eye ripped out once, Killer took it to dissect (but he wasn't the one who pulled it out) and Nightmare asked him to go get a replacement. Horror had to be the surgeon on duty from experience and put the new thing in its place.

I personally don't see any of the three smoking weed 😭, Dust may have tried but let's just say it's not a good additive to his degraded mind. I don't see Killer smoking anything at all, though he might be willing to try too. I'd say it's not something he'll pick up as a habit in the end.

Horror doesn't consume anything at all.

Killer, Dust and Horror can play the trombone. Though I like to think Horror is the only one still playing it.

Killer likes cats

Horror likes dogs

Dust likes bunnies (and rodents)

Killer sleeps with his eyes open (and his little hands on his soul) Horror and Dust gave him a sleeping mask so they wouldn't have to see him.

Their methods for getting out of dissociation;

Dust has a tendency to bite others, but he mostly bites his hands. Horror sticks his hand in the hole and scratches a lot, and Killer pinches others in the face (although this seems to be canon, I love it)

Horror is the only one who still makes puns, but neither Dust nor Killer usually laugh with him when that happens... (difficult audience)

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[imminent-danger-came]

do you think MK is gonna have a circlet arc?? Going along with your eldritch mk theory jt could parallel his past life being contained and also more parallels to SWK and MK how fun

This ask has haunted my ask box for 3 days. Circlet arc??? CIRCLET ARC???? THAT WOULD BE TERRIBLE AND SO SO SO GOOD.

I have no idea if it would actually happen in show, but I have a feeling MK is at the very least going to have an "anti-circlet" arc. Go with me for a moment:

So, we know MK's bandana parallels Wukong's phoenix feathers in design, right?

MK with the two ends of his bandana and Wukong with the two feathers coming out of his cap.

However, MK's bandana is ALSO a parallel to Wukong's circlet:

And MK was given this bandana by Pigsy (presumably):

This is basically a long winded way to say that MK has already been "crowned", in a sense. Unlike Wukong, MK never needed to be controlled in the same way his mentor did at the beginning of his journey. MK, instead, was given morals and love by our wonderful Dadsy from a young age, which effectively functioned as a "circlet", if that makes sense.

So, the bandana, a symbol of both who he is/was raised to be and the crown, is already his circlet. As MK is now, he doesn't need a circlet to exert control over him because of who he is—a good kid who is trying his best to make the right choices.

But, you know, there was that really scary scene that one time where MK didn't exactly feel like MK and he kind of went off the rails...and...WHAT IS THAT

HIS BANDANA WAS DAMAGED BY HIMSELF IN AN EPISODE TITLED "Rip and Tear" !!?!??!?!?

SO.

Say MK were to rip his own bandana off, symbolically showing his complete decent into his "harbinger of chaos" role...that would mean another crown would have to go on to replace it, right?

Whether MK get's crowned symbolically with another bandana or an ACTUAL circlet remains to be seen, but the potential is definitely there! And I'm normal about it

[vaguely-concerned]

just going about my day idly contemplating how some of the ways hawke can interact with a romanced anders are not at all unlike how they interact with leandra (and a bit of carver too, especially with a purple hawke), and then thought about my hawke in the timeline where he romances anders and was hit straight in the face with 'was he ever actually in love, or was he just desperately trying to renegotiate with his mother's ghost in any way he could' and now i need to lie down. this is the power of dragon age 2

[anthrcpophagi]

"Well, they didn't have cars in Fair Verona, but I'm willing to bet if they did, there'd be plenty of plays including mobile-fornication." She bit back a grin as she continued, the topic of literature bringing a sparkle to her eye. "There are quite a few rumors that say Shakespeare was a bit of a pervert, though, so the road head thing might not be too far off." Biting at her lip, she tried to reel in her racing thoughts. She didn't want to scare him off with her rambling, but it had been so long since she'd last indulged in such a conversation. "And, to be fair, Juliet was only thirteen. And they only knew each other for three days. And that's not even mentioning Rosaline's role in the story."

Shaking her head Maren tried to pry her thoughts away from the topic. If he allowed her, she could go on for hours about the literary works she adored. And she'd had plenty of people in her life roll their eyes and groan whenever the topic was brought up, especially if Maren was in the vicinity. Romeo and Juliet, like many kids her age, had been her first introduction to Shakespeare, but, unlike her peers, Maren had fallen in love with the stories and all their wacky dynamics. She holds fodn memories of going to the library with her mama and renting volumes of Shakespeare's plays, and her mother reading them out loud in a silly voice while Maren tried to make sense of the foreign words.

When she was younger, Maren always thought the timeline of Romeo and Juliet was unrealistic. How could someone fall in love and plan a life together after only three days? It seemed unlikely to form an attachment that soon. How could someone become so infatuated with another without truly knowing each other? How could two people love each other so desperately that they'd put so many people in danger? But, when she thought about it, her relationship with Trent had been rather unrealistic, too. Perhaps it wasn't as dramatic-- and not nearly as bloody-- as Romeo and Juliet's love story, but she already found herself addicted to him, unable to imagine a life without him in it.

"No one's dyin', don't worry." She doesn't even allow herself to entertain the thought of him getting hurt, let alone dying. She would kill herself before she let anything happen to Trent. And she'd kill anyone who dared get between them. Was this what true love was? Was this what Romeo felt when he'd first laid eyes on Juliet? Was this what Juliet felt when she drank that poison and hoped for the best? Probably not, Maren would guess. After all, Juliet wasn't a monster like Maren was. And Romeo wasn't as sweet as Trent was. Besides, she thought to herself, if her life were to be compared to anything Shakespearean, it would be more akin to the banquet in Titus Andronicus than any of his romantic tales.

At his words, Maren freezes and looks at him with wide, doe eyes. As silly as it sounded, she had never had a best friend. She'd barely ever had friends before, not real ones anyway. It had been hard to make friends when she always moved schools, picking up and disappearing in the middle of the night. And the few friends she'd managed to make had been short-lived, too, most lasting longer in her intestinal tract than they ever did in her life.

"Really? I've never had one before." Brows furrowed, Maren tilted her head and bit at the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood. "Best friends aren't supposed to kiss each other, though, are they? And I don't think best friends are supposed to think about doing any of the things I wanna do with you."

"Do they probe people at TSA checks?" He repeats, incredulous. His mouth is parts with disbelief, though the silence he's been shocked into is amended by a bright laugh. "Babe I don' think they get paid enough to be searchin' like that." Although he's not entirely sure himself. It makes him wonder about all the folks who try and smuggle drugs up their ass, what happens after the dogs sniff them out. His nose wrinkles at the thought. Really though, Trent could be convinced of anything. If the sermon was played long enough, he'd find himself eyeing the sky whenever a plane flew over. "Maybe they are angels." He replies, almost instinctively, then just as quickly catching himself, "That's why I can't listen to 'em too hard. Imma start thinkin' they're talkin' sense. I won't know what's what. 'Specially if they start shoutin' at me." He confesses. A brief thought is given to the homeless guy at the centre he sometimes volunteered at who had been abducted by aliens before. Trent will have to ask him next time if there was anything Godly about the experience. 

"I've been abducted by aliens if I'm ever tellin' you I'm opposed to it." He remarks, all grin. Trent's always been that way, shameless about it, his mouth running before his mind has time to catch up. He's never known hard to get, barely acquainted with playing it cool, the mandated dose of high school self consciousness abandoned in favour of the fair and the men there didn't have any qualms with baring their souls to any girl that'd give them a second glance. Trent always wants it, is the thing. Anywhere, anytime. Her even teasing it makes him want to drop to one knee and pull out a ring he doesn't have. 

Then she paints that picture and he's wincing, hand unconsciously covering his dick like he's part of the wall defending a free kick. It endears him that Maren can somehow relate dying while have sex in a car to Shakespeare. "You know I don' remember the part where Romeo crashes the car getting road head from his girl, but then again I weren't payin' attention in class like that." 

"Why are we dyin' at all?" Though her having mentioned sends a pang of unease through him. That the obituaries in tbe local newspaper would read 26-year-old male died immediately on impact a long with a 23-year-old female in the passenger seat. No one would know that he loved her a lot. The historians would be generous with using best friends. Trent hasn't told anyone about them yet, not for any reason, he's just been so distracted by her that he can't think of anyone else, let alone message them. "Besides, you are my best friend." It's a little outlandish to say, considering how long they've known each other. He says it anyway.

[zecoritheweirdone]

first art post of the new year!!! granted, i don't share my art here that much anyway, but– shhh.

hehehehhhooo,, here's something i've been working on for 'bout a month,, albeit not consecutively– took a few,, very very long breaks in between working on this,, but i managed to finish it in the end! am i satisfied with it? .......ehhhh? not completely, but if this took any longer, it might not have seen the light of day, so like. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.

anyway,, made a little poster for my favorite fic, tommyinnit's services for villains, vigilantes, and various other vagabonds, by @scorpionoesit!!! it's really really good,,, and i've always wanted to make more art for it,, so i decided– poster! at least,, that's what it's mean to resemble,,, dkdmkdmdkd.

i will freely admit,, i'm... not the biggest fan of the fan-made logo i tried to design for it,, feels a bit boring, and could definitely have used a bit more pizazz, something to make feel more like the fic itself(what does that mean? you figure that out),,,, but– again, steam was running low,, dkdnksjs. graphic design is my passion. i do also have other complaints, but i'm afraid i already punched my one-use self-critique card,, oh well,,, dkdnkxjdkd.

regardless,, even with the flaws only i can really see,, this still turned out pretty okay!! hope you enjoy it, mx. scorpio and mx. alibi!!! and i hope everyone else has a wonderful new year!!!!

[bleeding-hart]

some sketches

based on @theicarusconstellation's writing

I keep thinking of details I left out and stuff I need to fix but if I let myself do that I'm going to go insane so we're leaving it at this

Also some Sirius because they're a fucking king and we love them (I very strongly hc them as genderqueer and using any pronouns, but specifically he/they/she/it)

The dress was a bit of a failure but hey it looks like fabric at least I think maybe

[hyper-cryptic]

(I DIDN'T FORGET A CAPTION... YOU DID!)

He pop'd in my brain and some demon took over my body to draw him n' other sillies from this au. :3

[fanfaire]

IN SPITE OF HERSELF AND ALL AROUND THEM——the lilac girl's unmooring and the inelegant candor of their guide——kaveh's tirade makes her smile: a small thing, no more anchored than a cloud but clear as spring water. the gracious scholar who had found her in the midst of lively sumeru had been just as animated and full of fervor, and such a display is a welcome fire to the coolness that'd begun to seep through her at this whole ordeal without her realizing it. she uncrosses arms that had folded themselves again, feeling a little more warmed by that collateral of that righteous fire and finding her voice again.

"in fact, i've met the other girl earlier as well," she replies easily to kaveh's confusion, half-turning in place as though expecting to see their first companion with them. in the place she imagines her though is, of course, no more than empty space. "both are. . . " she looks back to their new acquaintance. "you're both students?"

the twin-tailed girl blinks, bewildered. "uh, i don't know about the other one. but yeah, i am."

a city that hardly changed. a city where most felt no need to leave. where novelty was rare and the strange already distilled down to the mundane through exposure. all centered around a school and its mysteries.

"do you speak a lot in front of class, then?" she recalls their provided narration: " ' always recognized for the wrong things, ' alors said."

a shrug this time. "people like me. think i'm cool or smart or pretty. they never want to know me, though, just what they think i am."

a surprisingly forthright response. not an uncommon story, and one she can personally empathize with——so they had one girl who struggled with the absence of her father's recognition, and another whose cracks had formed in the spaces between how she was perceived and how she was. she glances sidelong, absently, in the others' directions to see what they make of it ; unsurprisingly, kaveh broaches the silence with a thought of his own: "you can hear it too, right? the crow?" he gestures around them. "have you met it before?"

"the what?"

they truly aren't helping clear things up for this girl much ; if only they knew more themselves. furina sighs, nearly wanting to say something to kaveh about how if alors was their director, or stood in for them here, then it's unlikely he'd be known to the characters of the production. but that would be. . .

he meets her eyes anyway, almost as if anticipating her correction. so she finds another way to relent, waving one hand in half-extrapolation, half-dismissal. "there is. . . a three-eyed crow that brought us here. it seems that, though there is still no way to know if the rumors are true, perse, there is something at least about the birds."

"i've never heard of one with three eyes. just. . . normal crows with odd habits." weight shifts from foot to foot in discomfort. then another shrug. "maybe there's more to the stories than i thought, if that's true."

hm. speaking of which. "do they. . . have any interest in you? or anyone you know?" why these three in particular? presumed three, that is——her own heart, after all, has yet to be broken.

"one followed me home from work. and they linger on my window at night, but i don't pay them any mind."

no, four. there was still their own mysterious roommate.

(⠀" lest there is no one left to die for fate to take its course ". hm. . . )　/　@hopetune @aesthetecomplex

give little anguish

˚ʚ [ #GHSecondSky — week 2 ] ɞ˚

[eorzeashan]

instead of just fighting the agent in 1v1 on his ship Jadus should've transformed into a manifestation of the agent's fears and chased them around the Dominator's halls like a horror monster. who said that