#i went in with a solid mental image for this one and i think i pulled it off pretty well!

[that-tall-queer-bassist]

Sister Psychic won't you tell me does it ever get better Can you really see the future or just predict the weather

Spotify link to Sister Psychic by Smash Mouth

Youtube link to Sister Psychic by Smash Mouth

This is my second piece for @mcyt-jukebox-bonanza!

[pneumaticshift]

i have been plagued by thoughts of star sapphire hal and by god it kills me and would absolutely kill bruce to see him in the outfit carol wears in most runs she's in

Ooooh, this is a fun request. Thank you for the wonderful mental image.

———

For a very long moment, Bruce just stared. 

There were a great many things he had prepared himself to encounter tonight. A high-speed chase across Gothams rooftops. Explosions in the streets he’d somehow end up getting blamed for. A concussion he’d insist wasn’t a concussion while Alfred stared at him like he was the biggest disappointment to ever wear body armor. All scenarios that were perfectly reasonable for a man like him to expect. 

This, however, was new. 

Bruce prided himself on his ability to remain unshaken in the face of the bizarre. He had shared into the abyss, stood beside gods and monsters alike, and had endured all the spectacular shit the universe had thrown at him. He’d even suffered through Green Arrow’s attempts at philosophy while stranded on a mission together, and that alone had to count for something.

Now he was standing in the Watchtower, taking in the full reality of what was standing before him, and he knew with absolute certainty that his life had gone completely and irrevocably off the rails. Really, he should have seen it coming the moment he decided to devote his nights to dressing as a bat.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed that Hal Jordan was attractive. He was one of the most infuriating men Bruce had ever worked with, but he was also objectively good-looking. When a man flounced around in a skintight suit with an ass like that, even Bruce was bound to notice. It was a completely manageable distraction in his day-to-day experiences with the League. One of those minor observations you’d acknowledge, catalogue and then brush aside. The sky was blue, grass was green, Hal had a great ass. 

But now he was making a very solid effort at testing the limits of Bruce’s restraint, and it had everything to do with how Hal was currently standing there in a Star Sapphire uniform.

Or, to be specific, a Green Lantern construct of the uniform. And, because apparently this was a test from the Gods to specifically screw Bruce over, the ring had chosen accuracy over modesty.

Bruce knew this because the boots were there. Knee-high, heeled, and glossy in that very specific way that suggested Hal’s ring had spent far too much time on the details. 

The rest of the outfit clung to him indecently. Obscenely. The intricate filigree was vacuum-packed to his tanned skin, high-cut at the hips, plunging at the chest, with goddamn gloves that went up and past his elbows. It should have been impossible for anything to be both skintight and flowing, but the ring sure did make a good go of it.

The tiara really brought the whole thing together nicely. Or insanely. Bruce hadn’t decided yet. 

For the longest moment, Hal didn’t even notice Bruce was there. 

He was too busy flailing his hand around to notice. The ring was glowing in fits and starts as he tried, and ultimately failed, to dismiss the uniform. The man was practically bordering on desperate as his own willpower betrayed him. 

Bruce, for his part, wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

He could enjoy the show, he supposed. Hal was stumbling gracefully in those ridiculous heels, cursing under his breath and trying to lock his knees in place for balance. He had been to alien planets, fought cosmic horrors, survived all the shit of the universe, but apparently walking in heels was where he met his match. 

Alternatively, Bruce could walk away and pretend he wasn’t going to think about the image for a very long time. Because unfortunately, he was.

He had appreciated Hal’s ass in the usual Lantern uniform many times before. (After all, he wasn’t blind.) But the Star Sapphire costume didn’t just highlight his assets, it was parading them. Utterly salacious, utterly unfair. Definitely a matter that warranted further rumination later.

Unfortunately, Bruce didn’t have time to decide which course of action to take, because right as he was mentally filing away this entire moment for later analysis, Hal’s entire scantily clad body froze.

Bruce saw the exact moment his instincts kicked in. His back snapped ramrod straight. The energy of his flailing vanished, replaced by something almost eerily still, and slowly, so painfully slowly, he turned his head.

He looked confused at first, like some part of him knew something was wrong but hadn't fully processed what yet. His brow furrowed, his mouth parted slightly, and for a brief, glorious second, Bruce could see the gears in his head struggling to turn. Then his gaze met Bruce’s. And his brain caught up.

Bruce had never seen a man visibly lose the will to live so fast.

Hal’s face went through three separate stages of emotional devastation. Shock, realisation, and existential despair. His pupils dilated. His breath hitched. His entire body seemed to shrink into itself like he was experiencing ego death in real time.

“It’s not what it looks like!” he spluttered.

Bruce tilted his head ever so slightly, letting the silence stretch. He could see Hal floundering, the sheer panic in his eyes as his mouth opened and closed, his brain scrambling for some kind of explanation that didn’t immediately collapse under scrutiny.

“Oh?” Bruce finally said. Partly to be a dick. Partly because he was truly at a loss for words. 

Hal’s hands flew up in immediate defense, then just as quickly shot back down when he remembered he was barely wearing anything. “No—shut up!” he snapped. “I swear to God, this is not what it looks like—”

“It looks like you’re wearing the Star Sapphire uniform.”

Interestingly, Hal made a noise that could’ve been a whine if it wasn’t also fifty percent death rattle. “I— No, wait—” He looked down at himself and cringed. “I can explain!”

“I’d love to hear it.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You’d love to laugh at me. There’s a difference.”

Bruce couldn’t deny it. He’d also love to do a few more things too, but that probably wasn’t entirely helpful. He let his gaze drag deliberately from the top of Hal’s ridiculous head down to the heeled boots and back up again. He tilted his head, taking in the very specific details of the construct. It really was a very well made piece. 

“God, you’re an absolute—” Hal cut himself off to drag a hand over his face. “God. Okay. Look.”

“I’m looking.”

“Not like that, you asshole. I got hit with some weird energy surge and it scrambled my ring's templates. I was thinking ‘armor’, this is what came out!" Hal gestured to himself in exasperation, the movement making the construct shimmer. Good Lord. There was a sheen. "I am working on fixing it!"

Bruce hummed again, completely unhelpful, entirely entertained.

“It’s not like I chose this, alright? This is just some kind of ring feedback. It’s not, like—"

“Subconscious?" Bruce supplied.

Hal scowled at him “No.”

“So your ring just happened to manifest this design, with those proportions, entirely by chance?”

“Yes,” Hal hissed. “Obviously.”

He crossed his arms, which did nothing to make the situation better for him. Or Bruce. It called attention to the way the construct moved with him, emphasising every flex and shift of his muscles. At this point, Bruce was fighting the deeply unprofessional urge to drag him closer and haul him over his shoulder like a caveman

He didn’t. Because he was a professional.

But goddamn.

Hal shifted. The boots squeaked when he did. “This is the worst day of my life.”

“I don’t know. I think it has potential.”

“I’m gonna fix this, you’re going to be very discreet about what you definitely didn’t see here today, and we’re both going to just go ahead and pretend this never happened. Got it?”

“Hm. Shame.”

“Don’t test me, Spooky, I am so close to committing a crime.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly. “In that outfit?”

Hal lunged for the throat.

Unfortunately for him, the boots were still heels and Hal was still incapable of walking on them. The moment he put too much weight forward, his ankles twisted, his balance wobbled, and for one wonderful Bruce watched him go down. 

He really didn’t have any intentions of catching him because he always took great pleasure in the Green Lantern eating shit, but that outfit must have triggered some kind of neolithic instinct in him, because before he could think better of it, Bruce’s hands shot out and caught him by the waist.

Hal crashed into him gracelessly, all flailing limbs and deep personal shame. He scrambled for purchase and ended up gripping the font of Bruce’s suit, and for a second, Bruce was treated to the utterly incredible experience of Hal Jordan, fully wrapped up in his own humiliation, realising that he was now draped across Batman. 

It was beautiful. 

Bruce could feel the exact moment Hal’s soul left his body. His entire frame went rigid, breath caught somewhere between a gasp and a dying wheeze, and his hands twitched against Bruce’s chest like he wanted to push himself away but had lost all motor function. Bruce, meanwhile, was noting things.

Specific things. Like how Hal’s waist was bare thanks to the cut-outs, and how it fit suspiciously well in his grip. Or how his bare thighs, lovely, tanned and toned, had pretty much tangled themselves up in Bruce’s cape. Or the way Hal’s entire expression had gone somewhere beyond horror, like he was experiencing a deeply spiritual crisis.

Hal froze.

Bruce froze. 

The tiara glinted in the light.

Bruce wasn’t sure if it was because Hal had ascended to a higher plane of mortification or because his own brain had completely short-circuited, but neither of them moved. He could feel the tension locked up in his muscle, could see the deer-in-the headlights look Hal had, and, worst of all, could feel some primitive part of his own brain straight up celebrating these turn of events. 

The part of his brain that still thought in terms like mine.

The part of his brain that had already acknowledged Hal’s body against his.

The part that was now, alarmingly, imagining many, many, many things.

Bruce forcibly shut that particularly thought process down.

But then Hal exhaled. Not just any exhale. A shaky, uncertain, what-have-I-done-to-deserve-this kind of exhale. The kind accompanied by one of those thousand-yard stare typically reserved for people who had just walked in on their own funerals.

There was barely time to dissect that before Hal was speaking.

“... So, uh. You come here often?”

Bruce decided to drop him.

[anteroom-of-death]

Teacher's Pet part 18

Synopsis: The Doctor makes good on his thoughts. His fawn becomes trapped in them.

A/n: listen I know it's been fucking ages. Life's difficult. I'm back. Hopefully. Yall still want him? Warnings for blood and such.

You felt yourself muffle a yawn as you stumbled half-drunk with your boyfriend holding you upright. You settled on calling him your boyfriend. It felt, at least partially, correct. You didn’t really know how long that his species lived. He could have still been young by his standards. Well over two-thousand years young, but you mentally digressed.

The night air slapped you sober.

You didn’t realize how much you had drunk. Your mind was absolutely swimming. It felt like you couldn’t maintain a solid stream of thought. Moreover, it felt entirely different than your usual scatter-brained web of concepts that could be linked easily by you and you alone. Many found you off-topic or impertinent, but they didn’t get that you were being respectful and your mind was linking everything to the subject at hand that was even vaguely related.

The Doctor did, however. These thoughts soothed you. Thinking about him was becoming more important than air in your lungs. He seemed to always be exactly in your direction and understood what was going on.

You blinked as quickly as you could as you were slumped into the taxi by the Doctor. His brilliant smile beamed at you like the cat and that dammed canary. No one you had met before or since carried the gravity of his grins. His teeth always on display, even if it his mouth had been turned down and closed. Images of wolves suddenly floating in your head.

You really must have over estimated that last drink!

His fingers played with the tendrils of your hair. Smoothing it, fingering the last of your dead ends.

They felt good. You felt both emboldened by this tactile display of affection and a little embarrassed. The thoughts you always had towards him felt warranted. Always. He was always inviting them, even if he didn’t seem like it. That was something that stuck with him since the first time you walked into his classes.

Tactile and seemingly unaware that the entire way he carried on was like catnip. Or he was aware and didn’t care. You didn’t know or care.

All of time and space, countless lovers. Countless companions. Endless wanderlust…

And here he was. Some universal warrior deity. Yet, here he was settling down, taking cabs and being escorted around just because you frankly didn’t want to become a statistic. He apparently had the ability to pick up and go to whenever, wherever and not have to worry about traffic or delays.

But for you? He had tamed himself.

His universe had become small, just you, his very attractive ex-situationship in her hidden Vault, these military organizations, and that Nardole you’ve never seen.

From the complaints left by him over literally everything, (including your relationship with the Doctor!) You weren’t quite sure you wanted to meet him.

What a nerd and a narc!

Soon enough, you found yourself back in the room. All cozy and pliant. Eager to see him naked and act out all of those hidden thoughts that you couldn’t repress in the pub. Your wobbly legs betrayed you as you went to yank your shoes off and toss your purse down.

“Damn.” You giggled as you adjusted yourself and rub the bridge of your nose with the base of your palm. “Tell me to never drink that much again in public…” You shook your head.

He leaned down to your level and bit your lower lip as he pulled your top off and laying feverish new bites on where he bit you last night. Hard, sharp and definitely not helping that growing wet spot on your panties. One of those impressive, perfect hands grasped your jaw and covering virtually all of your face squeezed lightly.

You felt your mind suddenly grow very dim and yet ravenous. You needed this, you needed him.

He certainly had no troubles liberating you from your clothes. Or somehow getting his belt and pants around his knees.

“You’re really something strange, aren’t you?” He mused as he tore himself out of the flesh of your nipple. You could feel the blood start to fleck up.

Definitely would have to take even more time off work than you already were doing…

He slowly and deliberately pinned you to the ground as he managed to take both of your wrists in one of his long-fingers hands. His expression clouded by lust and one of those emotions you thought were clearly something that humans just didn’t have in them. It seemed imperious and predatory, yet all too adoring.

You were awash. Your cunt ached. Your mind felt itself retract- like you were actively getting stupid trying to make eye contact with him. You felt yourself muffle a groan as he slipped his cock in in a firm and savage thrust.

The hand at your jaw and face tightened. You could feel the corner of a nail cut into your face.

This seemed about you and also not. More about him.

All your training (for lack of a better word…) seemed to flee. Here he was, one of the last of his species, cradling your pinned body to the hull of the floor as he drilled your leaking pussy. It seemed like he was saying something in that horrific, almost song like language he used to visit Missy in her Vault.

It sent a bone-chilling shake through your system. Just like when you first heard it. Not that you could judge.

Not like you could at this moment. His grip on you increased as he fucked you harder. Each thrust came quicker and deeper. You found the pain both increasingly hard to ignore but more lovely with each savage groan he made. It was enjoyable. Too much so. Felt alien. Felt deranged.

The grip on your face tightened once more! Your tongue pinned by his thumb.

You felt yourself start to convulse as your mind went blank. Blissfully and inhumanely blank. Did you cum? Was this you cumming? You didn’t know.

You didn’t even register his teeth nearly ripping the soft area between your neck and clavicle to shreds.

How long did he go on? You could swear you heart a haunting song being sung in your mind. Time slipped further down…

Was it more of him speaking?

You finally got your mind back in pieces as he finished on your stomach. The sensation snapped you back to reality. Your heart began racing. You felt yourself start to cry.

You felt so great, yet more than a little violated. (Was this normal, you felt yourself wander in your mind, what was this?)

He seemingly realized something.

He shushed you as he collected your shaking form in his lap. You felt so tiny. Like a small dog on a rich lady’s lap. You felt your eyes try to focus on him.

“My sweet fawn. You did so well. You’re so perfect for me.” He resumed in English.

His hand wiped the tears and blood and your hair back.

Your eyes couldn’t focus completely yet.

“You are…all I need. All I want.” He reassured you as he rocked you back and forth. “Don’t worry. No one in any corner of the universe can lay a finger on you.”

This was the comfort that restored your vision entirely. You looked at him. You felt like you were some primitive human seeing a God! Scared, in full adoration, and more than a little servile. The tears began again. More shushing, more petting, more praise. You curled so deeply into his chest and wept harder. You swore you never cried so hard in your life. You felt so incredibly good, yet every part of you burned and ached.

You hiccupped and he stroked the back of your neck. It made you go slightly limp.

“Why don’t I wash you, hmm?” He offered as he pulled you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom. He laid you down and grabbed your shower stuff.

He tested the water on him. It seemed to go on for a while.

He washed you and even did your skin care on your still limp form.

“Fawn?” He asked as you caught your body in mirror. You were pale and bruised. Scabs had started to form on you.

It was shocking.

“I…can’t work like this?” Was all you managed to choke out.

“I’ve got you. When were back in Bristol, yeah? I’ve gotten some alien technology in my TARDIS. You won’t even have a scar.” He offered, a smile creeped up his face. It seemed smug and self-serving.

You shook yourself.

You trusted him, fully without any hesitation. If he said so, he said so.

He slid your into your pajamas and slid next to you in bed. Still naked.

“Sleep.” He commanded as he wrapped his arms around you. “Tomorrow, I need your help.”

And as if by magic, you felt yourself slip into a deep sleep. You dreamed of swirling galaxies and more strange songs twisted into it.

When you woke, it was with such a fright. He wasn’t next to you, and it made you panic. He was already dressed. He was twirling some object in his hands.

“You’ve slept in. Not that I can blame you…” He snorted. “Don’t worry, I’ve taken the liberty of choosing clothes. I’ve even got breakfast!”

He offered you a cup of coffee and helped you out of bed.

It was simple, a black tank top and a pair of jeans. He offered you the sheer lace shrug you planned on using as layering if he took you out again for a night out on town.

“I’ve been meaning to give this to you.” He slid you a gold chain with a small, but heavy pendant on it. It had some small circular design on it. It swirled around itself and had some dots in places.

“I know how you enjoy jewelry.” He motioned to the tangled knot of necklaces you wore all day, every day, even in sleep.

You went to put it on. It rested as if fighting the small symbols of your faith for attention on your person. Or, perhaps, even your soul itself...

He parted them for you and made sure that his special necklace rested firmly under the hollow of your throat.

“I meant it last night. Not even the Cybermen could take you from me. The entire dark hoards of the Never Were’s and Always Was’s will not harm you so long as you’re by my side.” His tone shifted as he helped you help yourself to a bit of the porridge he had for you.

You still shook.

He let you apply your make up. You decided it was no use to try to waste all your concealer and foundation on the wounds on your neck.

He tousled your hair and smiled at you.

He helped you into your shoes and you both walked out of the door. You firmly found your nails grasping into his coats arm as you still were having trouble even standing, yet alone walking.

The lift ride down into a subterranean area, meeting all these people was quiet. Petronella and that Lethbridge-Stewart woman and more were waiting.

They all focused on you and you could feel their eyes bore into your neck and chest. You didn’t know what to feel.

You instinctively took all your cues from him.

All these soldiers and scientists did too. They all spoke of things that seemed beyond your recently tousled-haired comprehension.

When the Doctor spoke to you, and used your real name to get your opinion, you jumped. To hear your own name, especially from him now seemed foreign.

A fawn you shall be, you felt yourself say in your mind.

You made up some fake statistic about something. You had to. Your mind was flailing and you looked at your good Doctor as if that would help.

You mind felt never more silent. It felt odd.

You shook yourself once more.

You felt your mind flood back in. It was a sharp, tickling sensation. Loud, screaming and on high alert. As if it had been forced down and silenced on purpose.

You swept those thoughts aside. He needed you, and needed you to focus and help him.

Suddenly all the tawdry statistics about crime in metropolitan areas you studied for papers came rushing in. It was very good. Apparently, they were looking for what petty crimes could be aliens doing a bad job at integration and were pushing some prearranged boundaries on when they could emerge and the planet could feasibly support aliens and humans as willing co-sponsors of the planet.

They took your data and entered it in.

Success!

“She’s a whizz with those, yeah?” The Doctor pointed at hand at you and praised you openly. “Great stuff.”

It made your cheeks flush and your panties get a little wet spot on them. You felt nothing but a soothing warmth spread from your scalp to the soles of your feet.

Him and a few other scientists went to go prime something. You didn’t know what.

You went to the small area set up for self-service of tea and coffee. Petronella trailed after you. It was a hard journey, you wobbled a few times for such a short trip.

“Those are some marks?” She pried at you as she pointed towards where the Doctor had given you in the night. “Were you attacked last night when you were out?” The deep care and worry in her voice made you feel a vacant ache in your chest.

“No, no. No?” You stuttered. Your hand automatically went to the most egregious of them. Teeth marks fully imprinted as reddish-black stabbed divots.

“Then where’d you get them?” More concern in her tone.

Your eyes flashed over to the Doctor and then to the ground. You didn’t know how to respond.

She muttered a barely audible “Oh.” Her eyes gazed at you with understanding. “Did you have fun?” She asked for lack of a better way to press on. Her eyes looked back at the Doctor and back at the mess that was your neck and chest in a few quick takes. She seemed like her mind was trying to wrap itself around something.

Did you? You could hardly recall most of it.

You chalked it up to the alcohol in your system.

“Yeah.” You nodded your head. “We had fun.”

She didn’t seem to disagree. Although, a glint of something rested in the back corners of her eyes…

She trailed you back to your seat.

You let a long, shaky breath as you went to sip more coffee. You wished he was the one helping you drink. Your hands still were not exactly stable. Him doing that at breakfast was oddly fitting. Felt like it should be that way.

You gave more opinions and input. He lauded on the praise.

The wet spot was growing in size under your jeans. Your cunt was positively aching once again. Your heart raced.

It felt like he was winding you up.

Maybe he was…

[kurishiri]

on my way to start William’s route, but as for the other two…

official Ikemen Villains twitter posted templates and so I took used them, ehe. Minor route spoilers ahead, maybe, as I delve into some personal thoughts! You can click on the images for higher quality; I put content warnings for each route there too, though I may have missed a couple here and there.

Liam — key word: “tomorrow”

the themes in the story really add to the story’s poignancy, and I think it was interesting how they chose to make Liam an actor — as that part of his character played a significant role in the story and its themes.

I don’t have a very high sexy rating here relatively, and that’s not to say there aren’t sexy parts, but I think the presence of it feels a bit dampened by the fact I either didn’t purchase premium stories so it felt like the sexual scenes happened off screen in my personal experience or just that the story was overall so heavy with Liam’s mental struggles. Also, Liam was my first route, so I didn’t really have any other rating to compare it to. So I figured it was good to start somewhere in the middle and go on from there. Overall, I felt it was more romantic than sexy (especially if you look at, well… Alfons). To me, it’s not a bad thing! I’m just as alright with a story not having any sexual scenes as I am with one containing them.

honestly Liam’s route is probably the closest I’ll get to romancing Kate — because I related so much to Liam, he hit a bit too close to home sometimes lmao

Harrison — key phrase: “that doesn’t sound half bad.”

overall, I feel his story was solid. If you were to ask me between Liam and Harrison, whose route I enjoyed more, I would probably say Harrison. I enjoyed Liam as well for what it was, but I feel Harrison’s route is just more… fun.

to be completely honest he was really frustrating in the first few chapters. And the way the first sort of conflict ended between Kate and Harry still left me a bit frustrated. Even now, I sometimes wish it ended a bit differently, but I can understand as the story went on that Harry always had kind intentions toward Kate. He always had — since the beginning.

his romance definitely felt more subtle (and I loved that), since even if he has feelings for you, he always masks it with a half truth or a lie. And boy, is he good at lying 😂👌 at first they were really frustrating, but later there were a couple lies that are kinda funny that I can’t help but love him for his funny (and sweet) lies. Interpreting his half truth half lie words is like translating from another language lmao

reading Harrison’s route felt like reading a mystery and adventure novel at once. And I think if you want like to get a good taste of everyone else’s dynamics (without overshadowing Kate and Harry’s) in action and outside of it, it’s best to read Harry as opposed to Liam, in my opinion.

if you have any thoughts and opinions about the two, I’d love to hear!

[1oddboi1]

Got a vivid mental image when given the idea of "Chos lofi" and just had to draw it. I imagine it'd be accompanied by nature sounds and soft humming

This is the first time I've committed this much to shading and backgrounds, I think it went pretty well :D

Time for the yappening >:) I'm super happy with this!! I've been trying out shading more recently because I'd been avoiding it like the plague previously. Pinterest was my best friend for this, I have so many pins in my "art reference" board lmao. One idea I got from there that I especially love is the little warm edge on the shadows on Chos, makes him feel soft if that makes sense. I was originally gonna make the lighting a lot warmer to make it a sunrise/sunset thing but 1. Couldn't quite figure it out and 2. Thought it looked fine as is :3. I also got over my irrational aversion to gradients, at least a little. The reflections and water as a whole are feathered. The rest is mostly just solid colors though, baby steps.

Bonus: Chos putting that well spent study time to use (he doodled the whole time and has resorted to cheating)(this is what prompted the lofi idea lol)

[wetbloodworm]

okay so this is a fun little guy but this is actually a really personal piece for me lol

my therapist and i were talking about how there can be a benefit to personifying your disorders or symptoms or whatever, like how it's comforting or helpful to sometimes separate it from yourself and examine your symptoms as an external thing. that's definitely a thing i've done for a long time so it was cool hearing it from a professional! she also described OCD obsessions as a bad roommate standing outside your room with a bullhorn, which i loved, but i wanted to edit that mental image because i picture my OCD not as A Guy but as A Creature. which of course has been done before by all kinds of artists before but, y'know, 'holy shit two cakes' etc etc

so! OCD creature!! i'm going to elaborate on the design and thought process under the cut because this gets long and, as always, i talk So Much, but i care about your scrolling experience lol

oh wait first i don't want this hidden under the cut: for the black one i eyeballed jakdaw's art piece here to get an idea of how to stylize an iggy and have a solid base to design this little guy

okay so. the bullhorn was a critical aspect of the design because of that conversation, and i do love an object head. the color scheme is because i looked up 'colors that make people anxious' and i didn't even read the section this one article had on white because the associated photo was of like an ultra modern super white kitchen and i immediately went 'oh yeah no absolutely that's it'. then red feels obvious. the chain tail.... i can't articulate that one. it was instinct, i drew a regular tail first then suddenly went 'no. chain'. and i didn't question it

and then, okay, the italian greyhound body. why the italian greyhound body. i mean they're highly anxious dogs so that felt right, but also there was an element of wanting to make the body something small, and something that i have positive associations with. not that i feel positively about my OCD to any degree, but like... hm. if i'm personifying this creature, i don't think of it as malicious. it's blaring horrible distressing things at me but it's not trying to be cruel. it's just so so scared all the time and it can see every tiny thing that could ever possibly go wrong and sometimes things that couldn't possibly go wrong but what if they did somehow and it absorbs everything that i'm horrified by or scared of or disgusted by and it has to shout all those things at me full-blast all the time. it can't not shout those things at me, it's a bullhorn, it's designed to shout. maybe sometimes it's trying to protect or warn me. maybe sometimes it doesn't want to be alone with these terrible things. maybe sometimes it's just crying. maybe sometimes it's just trying to engage with me but all it can do is shout. it's not trying to hurt me. it IS hurting me, but it's not trying to.

i think there's also an aspect of like... yes, we're personifying and separating my OCD from myself, but when it comes down to it it CAN'T be separated from me. it IS part of me. and i've spent and currently spend enough time feeling negatively about parts of myself. i didn't want to design a creature to hate. i can hate what it does but i don't want to hate it, that distinction is important somehow. making it something i can feel sympathetic towards even if it's distressing or hurtful feels more helpful than making it something that's solely here for me to hate. also making it a dog gives it the feeling of being something i'm responsible for taking care of, which feels right somehow?

so yeah. this little guy is sharp and loud and distressing and so so so hard to ignore but it's also just a creature doing its best. i just have to learn how to work with it and learn how to get it to crank that volume down so it's not hurting me as much or as often. i have to teach it that most of the things it's so so scared of won't actually hurt us, that it doesn't HAVE to be so so scared.

idk. this was just really nice to draw and talk about.

[urauntiefaye]

Could I request a yandere fic for hyunjae where the reader somehow escapes him and a few months/years later the reader comes across Hyunjae

Never Really Escaped: Yandere!Hyunjae

WC: 1139 

TW: Yandere, no real violence though, mentions of being in an abusive relationship, mentions of therapy, please let me know if I forgot anything. 

A/N: Not proofread, and honestly not too sure if I’m completely satisfied with this? I have a lot of ideas on yandere Hyunjae though. 

It was abnormal, waking up in your own apartment by yourself. It was such a simple act that was so normal to so many people, but felt so foreign for you. Most people would think you would be over it by now, or at least you should be since it’s been a year since you’ve escaped that hell hole you used to call home. A year since you’ve left the man you once considered your soulmate. Your therapist telling you that you would heal in no time, that you just got to keep telling yourself that you’re no longer there. That you’re safe now.

The days were usually okay, you had a stable job once again, and were able to form solid healthy relations with your friends and family again. You were able to distract yourself, keeping your mind far away from the dark memories that crowded your brain. But once the night fell and you were once again alone in your room, images would begin to play in your mind like it was a movie. The scenes of your boyfriend being sweet and loving towards you, sharing calming moments of you two when you would bake together or would goof off. They always seemed so innocent, causing guilt to creep all through your body. Often leading you to question yourself if leaving him was a good idea after all, that maybe he was just misunderstood. Both fortunate and unfortunately for you those pure innocent moments would disappear from your mind as new ones would form. The ones you hated the most, causing the guilt to instantly vanish as new emotions took over. It was always too much, so many flooding your body as fear and anger would fight each other on who should take over. 

Yes, you did love Hyunjae, you really did. But a part of you hated him. He was just getting too much, you felt like you were drowning whenever you were around him. Even when he wasn’t around, you couldn’t breathe. You weren’t sure if it was because of how controlling and paranoid he was, or if it was simply because you haven’t had fresh air for at least two years having been forbidden to go outside. You missed it, the crisp air that would fill your lungs, the chirps from birds and buzzes from the bugs. But what you missed the most of all was how the sun would soak into your skin, you used to hate it. Finding the heat from the sun nauseating. You had enough, you really did, you couldn’t stand it anymore, having gone from trying to convince yourself that he was just insecure and mentally unstable to realizing he was just a psycho who wanted to control every aspect of his life including you. 

You’ve quickly come to realize that it was going to be another sleepless night. You sat up and put on your slippers and made your way to the kitchen, hoping a cup of tea would help your nerves. As you settled the kettle onto the open flame of the stove you sighed, “he won’t find me” you mumbled softly, not even really believing those words yourself. Your body leaning against the counter as you ran your fingers through your hair as you waited for the kettle to whistle to let you know it was done. Bang Bang, A loud knocking noise came from your front door, which was weird, it was almost 2:30am, why on earth would anyone be at your door at this hour. Bang Bang again, another set of knocks, curiosity getting the best of you, you made your way to the door. Maybe it was your neighbor? Or the apartment's security guard? The knocking kept going as you approached the door. Stepping on your tiptoes you looked through the peephole, but to your surprise no one was there. A sharp pain went throughout your heart, feeling like your lungs were about to close up on you. Who would it be? Is it him? No, it couldn’t be, if it was him he would’ve bursted through the door by now. A million thoughts started running through your mind, but you have to open it. It’s okay, you can do it, it’s probably a police officer! Of course, it’s probably them, they usually stand off to the side when knocking on doors. It must be them, you take a deep breath and finally open the door. You look up expecting almost hoping it was indeed the police. As soon as your eyes made contact with the one standing before you, you felt your heart stop, your body running cold as you felt your stomach reaching your throat. You wanted to run, you needed to, but your feet were stuck to the floor as if medusa had turned you into one of her infamous statues. 

“Hello my love”, he attempted to say softly and endearingly, but instead came off domineering and almost desperately.

 Unlike you Hyunjae was glad to see you, he had been looking for a whole year trying to find you. The amount of people he killed in the process just to get information about your whereabouts. When Hyunjae first came home to see you were nowhere to be seen he was furious but not surprised. Assuming you had tried to attempt one of your little escape plans as you have attempted to do so oh so many times in the past. He had expected to have found you within the last hour, thinking you were hiding somewhere on the grounds. But when his men came to him with news that you were actually gone, that they can’t seem to find you anywhere. Well, to say he may have blacked out in absolute rage murdering all of his men on sight would be an understatement. He had never experienced such emotions before, how dare you leave him, he was so good to you and this is how you repay him?. His initial thought was to blame you, you were an ungrateful brat who needed to be taught a lesson. But as time went by he soon started to question his own thoughts. He eventually began to put the blame on himself, was he not attentive enough? Was his punishments’ too much? Was he too protective over you?. Yes, protective, always protective, he would never use the words controlling, or obsessive, he was just protective over you. 

He took a step forward, never breaking eye contact. A gentle smile placed on his lips, as he embraced you in a tight hug, his nose nuzzling against your neck. “I missed you”, he continued to hold you close as you just stood there in shock, not knowing what to do. No words could come out, because you were aware that you are officially completely fucked. 

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Tags:

@sanaxo-o

[drift-wing]

SORRY THIS IS LATE I LOST THE ASK GAME POST

fic writer ask game 17, 20 (any of your fics!!), 23, and 35 (a WIP snippet please please please but no pressure)

17. What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

I've recently been getting comments saying I made people laugh and I'm so pleased I've managed that, because I've always imagined it'd just be me chortling to myself in a corner over my ridiculous mental images haha

20. Share your favorite kiss scene from [insert fic]. If there's no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

My mind immediately went back to More Than Riches and Muscle for this which I think might be my magnum opus. But it's actually not the kisses that are my favourite, it's the tender not-kisses in between, like

If even this much was unexpected, however, then what truly threw him was the way Gale eventually ceased kissing and instead gently nuzzled his nose with their own, touching their foreheads together while their arms wrapped around him properly. As they embraced for a long few moments, January scrabbled for a coherent thought amongst the shards of his entirely blown mind.

There was nothing particularly seductive about the way Gale carefully cradled the back of his head, carding fingers through his hair. This was not the script of a drunk, celebratory one-night stand, or even the desperate passion of someone who knows their time is quickly approaching its end. This felt like… something else.

JANUARY. THEY'RE IN LOVE WITH YOU.

23. What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

I reeaally love "there was only one bed" fics but I can't come up with a solid enough excuse for Jan & Gale to have no choice but to share a bed. so that one just stays vaguely floating around in my head forever

35. (a WIP snippet please please please but no pressure)

“I know, but you still have to sleep. Drink your hot chocolate and go to bed.”

Iron composure finally creaking into a gentle tilt, Gale rubs a hand over their eyes. “I can’t. Not yet. I have to do this.”

“We’ll get Solly to make room on the Schedule tomorrow. Right now, the Schedule says bedtime.”

“Let me just—”

“Okay, fine, but I’m taking this away.” He leans down and scoops the mug back up. “I’m fully prepared to drink it myself if my efforts are going to be ignored. In fact, I’m already starting to look forward to it—”

He gets only one step away before Gale says, “Wait.” January pauses, looking back to find them twisted in their seat, gaze imploring. “It—it has tiny marshmallows on it.”

[griefabyss69]

First Fic Tag Game

Gooooooood morning(etc), I've been tagged in a few games and I have them all written in a document so I don't forget! Revolutionary. I might not get to them all but I appreciate being tagged anyway <3 Rules: Pick a fandom and post an excerpt of the first thing you ever wrote in that fandom. Could be a scene, part of a scene, a couple of lines, whatever your first foray into writing for that fandom was. Feel free to include a link to the story it comes from if it’s been published (excerpts from WIPs count too).

Tagged by @postmodernau @steddie-island @occasionaloverboy, thank you!!!!

Here's from either my first fic or my second fic, I'm not sure. The writing is definitely........ old. And unedited. Maybe a WIP forever, but I might take some of the ideas from it and put them into something new. I think it's still fun and it's kinda charming to look back on it! I think I was trying to organize my thoughts as much as Eddie was in here lmao :' )

~~~~~~~

It didn't take a long time to notice the traumatic habits of his new friends. Some of them were more obvious, out in the open and almost unashamed.

They all carried some kind of weapon with them. They all memorized each other's favorite songs. Code names, planned check ins, and strict radio etiquette, all impressively adhered to even with the youngest ones.

Nightmares and moments of freezing up weren't really discussed but they were quietly worked through in the background of their lives. Everyone seemed to have a no-judgment thing going on for that, the most important rule even if it was unspoken. Eddie quickly noticed that Steve was really good at being a solid person to lean on. He usually noticed first when someone needed a grounding hand on their shoulder, a reality check, or even just a snack.

This was a part of a map Eddie had created in his head, of everyone's social roles.

There were little arrows going to and from everyone, different colors indicating connections like who were best friends, who were partners (and exes), who relied on who for important things. Everyone had at least a few arrows going out and coming in, from family members and friends and of course, support coming in from Steve.

Steve had plenty of arrows going out, but the only one coming in that Eddie would put down in ink is from Robin. It had it's own special color, a hot pink that he doesn't think either of them would like. In his mental image of the color key, it's labeled Platonic Soulmates.

Some of the arrows directed towards Steve had little lines blocking them off. Mostly from the Little Hellion's moms, who he think would have tried to adopt him already if he wasn't already an adult. Another is from Nancy, and he can understand why Steve keeps her at an arm's length, even if he thinks he's being stupid.

Eddie tries not to think about any of this too hard, he has his map because it helps him keep track of who lives with who and who has fucked off to California for a while and if he should be worried about any of the kids. He tries not to think about Steve, who can handle whatever life tries to throw at him, even when it's Hell itself.

He focuses on the kids, learning the rest of the horrors that they went through before he arrived on the scene.

Planning campaigns is a trickier task now, given that everyone has at least one thing that will make them go quiet and cold. He didn't really notice it before, usually just thought someone was having a bad day and made sure to secretly go easier on them for the rest of the session, but now he wonders how he could've been so unaware.

He starts a list pretty quickly into planning the first one after he's out of the hospital. At first it had just been the Hellfire Club and anything that he knows to avoid for them, but he expands it to everyone he sees on a regular enough basis. For easy reference, and also because he can't squash the naive hope that some of them will want to join in one day.

He's got something written down for everyone, except for Steve.

As much as he tries to not let it get to him, it bothers him. He KNOWS Steve has nightmares, even if he's never been around for them.

The more he tries to ignore this missing piece of information, the harder the creature that dictates his focus digs its claws in. It feels weird, like he's being a creep, to want to know what will upset Steve that badly, the fact that he wants the knowledge for good not really helping.

He used to keep his distance from him, only hanging out with him if someone else was going to be there, and keeping the conversations mostly superficial or about the kids.

He starts to talk to him more, hangs out with him while he's working even when Robin isn't. It's honestly nice, Steve is surprisingly easy to get along with, and when he first offers to let Eddie come over and watch movies with him all night, he doesn't turn him down.

They quickly make a habit of it, Steve surprisingly astute for someone who jokes about being stupid all of the time. Any time Eddie hasn't been able to sleep or is starting to feel hollowed out, he ends up watching movies with him that night, even if Steve has to work in the morning.

For all of his observations and cataloging, Steve seemed to be doing just fine.

This should have been an answer, but the thing inside of him just digs its claws in further. He wouldn't say he's becoming obsessed, but that's only because he's good at performing his own personality that he can lie to even his own mind.

Spending more time together doesn't leave Eddie unscathed, though. The reason of his initial distance elbows it's way back to the top of his List of Struggles, bringing CAN'T FUCKING SLEEP down to number two.

The Number One Worst Struggle in Eddie's life is now his giant hard-on for Steve.

Nobody with taste could blame him, but his life would be much easier if he didn't have to look him in the face the morning after having weird (hot) dreams about him. Sometimes he falls asleep beside him on the couch and dreams about Steve using him as a pillow, which isn't as sexy but makes his face get hot just the same. Sometimes he stares at his hands and wonders what it'd be like to hold them, which is worse, because at least he understands his sexual fantasies.

He can't expect his dick to make good decisions, but he'd like it if the rest of him would.

About two months into torturing himself with the magic of friendship, he finally figures him out, though. It's not surprising that it took so long, it's not as simple as avoiding demons that look like bats or big bads that get into people's minds. To be honest he thinks it simply required getting to know him, and spending a lot of fucking time with him. Someone who was less observant (obsessed) probably wouldn't have figured it out.

Steve's terrified of being idle. Great at sitting still, doesn't really fidget which is something that Eddie finds more alien than his giant house.

He just doesn't have unplanned time. If he's not working or doing what Robin calls his Single Mom activities, he's usually running errands or doing a favor for someone, often finding an excuse to hang out with whoever's around. With enough people, it's not obvious unless they all decided to compare their time spent with him.

To be honest it makes a lot of sense to Eddie, he doesn't like to feel like a sitting duck either. Steve takes it further though, seems to think if he's not a constant presence in people's lives they'll just forget about him.

[yupuffin]

Okay okay-

Not the same Quay thought as before, but I do have a song for you.

Not necessarily the messaging or anything since I don’t know enough to fully analyze Quay- but this song just gives me mental images of the sea and of beachside festivals and the like.

It’s a nice listen and I think fits the aesthetic a bit? Not really calm, but very fun.

Ooh, a song! ✨👀 And no biggie; "beach" is like. a solid 50% or more of Quay's personality, in any case, so putting that with all of his lore still being very much a work in progress, I will take any song about the ocean I can get! Worst-case scenario, even for just my personal enjoyment😆

So the feeling of this one made me go "Okay, maybe this is Quay when he's feeling angsty" (at which point I paused, because Quay isn't all that angsty, at least on the outside) and then I went. WAIT. IT'S MORTEQUAY.

Those would be my initial thoughts, anyway. Between constantly being on the verge of burnout and dealing with the lingering frustration of everything that happened in his childhood -- which, for what it's worth, I'm inferring based on what we know of his lore, are connected -- for Mortefi, Quay is a form of emotional support; Quay complements Mortefi in that he's pretty simple-minded, not particularly ambitious, and overall easygoing, on top of just being a consistent social connection.

If that makes any sense, that would be my interpretation! 😆 Thank you for the thoughts 👀✨

[deans-baby-momma]

Secrets & Desires- Part 1

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Reblogs and likes are nice but feedback is better.

Sam has been keeping a secret from Dean. For a while now - it’s killing him but he doesn’t know how to explain it to his older brother. How do you tell someone you’ve looked up to your whole life that you’ve finally found someone who gets you; who has the same sexual energy, desires and fetishes? And that she’s older. 

Dean would probably not bat an eye, even be proud of his little brother for a moment. Until he found out who Sam has been sneaking around with. And it all started with one little phrase during a case. 

2012

“Do I have to use my ‘mom voice’?”

Jody Mills was not someone Sam ever thought of in a sexual way. She was a friend, a fellow hunter but when he returned to the first floor after finding Dean’s note and the sheriff actually used her ‘mom voice’ on him, it did something to him. 

Sam wasn’t going to pursue it. He thought she was just being a caretaker, looking out for him because she saw how exhausted he was……and maybe she was but even after they retrieved Dean and went their separate ways, Sam couldn’t get the image of Jody being Mommy for him.

When Crowley almost took Jody’s life in a bid to get the Winchesters to stop trying to close the gates of Hell, Sam decided it was now or never. He was going to make a move, but before that could happen, the trials almost claimed his life.

The next time they met up for a case, Sam could barely look at Jody. The dreams that his imagination had conjured up left him wound up about the woman who’d lost almost everything. And when Sam and Dean signed the chastity vow, he figured he probably needed to just forget everything.

Until Jody said something when they figured out Dean was boning the chastity group’s counselor, Suzy, a reformed porn star.

“I’d like to whip his tail for thinking with his dick instead of his brain during a case!”

Sam couldn’t stand it anymore. So as they stood in the remnants of Dean and Suzy’s abduction, Sam pulled Jody to him and kissed her soundly before uttering, “You can spank me anytime, Mommy.”  

"Sam?" Jody says incredulously, making Sam want to shrink into oblivion.  Had he read the situation all wrong? Was the vibe she was emitting completely innocent and he just made a giant mistake?

"Oh god Jody," he begins pulling away. "I'm so sorry!"

"Sam Winchester!" Jody scolds, shutting the tall hunter up. She wraps her arms around his waist and places her hands on his ass. "I would love to use my crop on this ass," she tells him with a quick squeeze. "Fuck, I bet you could bounce a nickel off that."

Sam feels himself blush at her observation. But he mentally pats himself on the back because he had been correct, she was into the whole Mommy kink - or at least ready to give it a go. He smiles as he plants his hands on her cheeks and leans down and captures her lips again.

Jody wastes no time allowing him entrance between her lips. She had been attracted to Sam for years. He just exuded confidence and security and she had thought she sensed a bit of a kinky side to him once or twice. 

Now she knew what he was into, she had no problems being that for him. She couldn't wait to see the big, strong, brave hunter become submissive and complacent in her bed.

The kiss seemed to become a battle for dominance but Jody knew just what to do to gain the upper hand.  She slid her hands down Sam's back and once again cupped his buttocks before lifting her right hand and landing a solid smack on his left cheek.

Sam moaned into her mouth, giving her the advantage to take control. Once air became a necessity,  the two pulled apart and Jody looked up at him through her lashes. "There's more where that came from," she teased. 

Sam opened his mouth to respond but with an inhale, he got a slight whiff of Dean's cologne and remembered the case.

"As much as I want to continue this," he said remorsefully. "We need to find my brother."

Jody nods and steps out of the embrace, but not before locking Sam in a commanding look  "Once we find Dean, you come to my room and get your comeuppance. You understand Mister?"

Sam's dick twitched in his jeans at the assertiveness. The authority in her voice made him want to obey, like a good little boy. 

"Yes ma'am."

Once they discovered the monster, a Roman goddess named Vesta that was kidnapping and killing virgins, the hunter and the sheriff learned that the only way to kill it was oak stained in virgin blood.  They also learned from a staticky and short phone call from Dean that he and the others were being held at an old farm near train tracks.

With an oak stake dipped in the blood of one of the chastity group members, they arrive at the farm and hunt for the goddess and her victims. 

In a bid to save Dean and the others, along with Sam who was knocked unconscious,  Jody goes up against the monster - getting stabbed herself.

Still, she used what strength she had left to kill Vesta and save them all.  Jody Mills wasn't going to have more deaths on her conscience, especially that of her friends and possible future lover.

Only that would have to hold off, as she herself was too injured to participate in those types of events.

While Dean was off checking on Suzy and the others, Jody  and Sam concluded that as soon as she healed, she would call him.

"I'd tell you boys to stay out of trouble," Jody says later in the Winchester's motel room, looking from one to the other. "But what's the point?"

Dean hugs her and thanks her for bailing him out. She hugs Sam and then takes the bag he hands her. She glances at Dean to see he has turned his back on them so she whispers, "I'll call you. Be a good boy."

Sam subtly nods and is rewarded with a wink and an air kiss. He watches as Jody walks out the door. 

@spnbaby-67 @sea040561 @delightfullykrispypeach @larajadeschmidt13 @atc74 @vicariouslythruspn @squirrelnotsam  @sandlee44 @blacktithe7 @hoboal87 @mogaruke @supraveng @akshi8278 @lyarr24 @kazsrm67 @chriszgirl92 @deanwithscissors @raisinggray @fanfic-n-tabulous @hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @purpleeclipseeggsland @kmc1989 @leigh70 @crownoflillies1

[abigailkendallwrites]

WINGLEADER: A Xaden Riorson POV Fanfiction

CHAPTER 20

Hours later, I knock quietly on Garrick’s door, already undoing the wards I set myself on his room. 

I’m dead on my feet, so emotionally and physically spent that I’m considering turning around and, quite literally, crawling to bed when the door swings open and Garrick’s face lights up with surprise. “What’s up?” 

I hold up a heavy jug of Beirm, and he cracks a grin, stepping aside. “Oh, do come in, brother.”

I walk in, popping the cork before Garrick can shut the door, and take a long swig, swallowing down the bitter liquid.

Garrick replaces the wards on his door and sits in one of the four chairs surrounding a small rectangular table pushed against the far wall.

I set the jug on the table with a heavy thunk and remove my jacket before sliding into the chair across from him. He swigs from the jug and smacks his lips. 

“Gods, that’s good.”

“It was…needed after this morning.” I rub my eyes, trying to push the exhaustion back with my fingers.

“I honestly can’t believe it went down like that. Amber Mavis breaking the rules.” He pauses, taking another pull of Beirm. “Fucking Dain too.”

“Fuck him. Gods fuck him.” I seethe. “I have my suspicions about Amber’s rather extreme reaction.”

Garrick looks up at the ceiling, thinking. “Ah. Dain.”

“Yup.” I say, my lips smacking out a pop of disdain as I take the jug from Garrick and chug. “Those two were absolutely hooking up all last year. I have no doubt she either saw or heard about Dain and Violet’s very public kiss.”

“After Violet’s little rule bending during the Gauntlet?” I nod in confirmation and Garrick clicks his tongue sardonically. “ Insult to injury.”

There’s a knock at the door, followed by Bodhi and Imogen’s voices floating through the solid wood.

“Xaden, I saw you walk over here with a jug in your hand. We want in!” Bodhi whisper-shouts through the door. 

“Yeah, you guys aren’t the only ones who had a shitty day.” Imogen adds and the door knob rattles violently.

Garrick and I share a look, and I push myself out of my chair. 

I smirk, whispering back through the door. “There’s not enough for sharing with second-years.” The handle rattles harder in response.

I open the door and they slip inside, Imogen sliding into the chair next to Garrick. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed and Garrick stiffens imperceptibly. He’s still as death as Imogen settles into her chair.

He stares at her forearms, which she’s propped up on the table for a heartbeat and then relaxes, setting his own arms on the table, their elbows brushing against each other as whatever wall he tried to build between them disintegrates at her proximity.

“That was quite the scene today, Xaden.” Bodhi smiles and raises his eyebrows in amusement.

I slide back into my seat, crossing an ankle over my knee and leaning back against the chair

“Yeah.” I force out through my teeth. “Can we just drink, please?” I shove the jug at Bodhi. 

He grins wider and hooks his fingers around the neck of the bottle, swigging with a gulp. 

The sensation slams into me like a truck.

My body goes rigid,  hands clenching into fists on the table. 

My mental shield barely softens the unfiltered lust that crushes into me. Images and feelings flood my brain, the wind ripping through my wings as I tumble. The feel of fangs and claws and crippling need have me swaying in my seat.

The table goes still, everyone inspecting me warily. They’ve been present on more than one occasion where Tairn and Sgaeyl’s intimacy has sent me spiraling.

My normal response would be to run to Orla’s room and beg for some kind of release until the two dragons are done.

Which is, very decidedly, not an option. 

Bodhi makes a loud kissing noise, and I realize I’ve been staring down at the table for the last minute.

I blink rapidly and clear my throat. “Well, that’s my cue.” I huff and stand, grabbing my jacket off the back of the chair.

Garrick’s eyes narrow on me, “Where are you going?”

“Orla’s room, obviously,” Imogen answers for me with a smirk.

“No.” The word comes out clipped. “I– that’s not happening anymore.”

Imogen and Bodhi both raise their eyebrows in disbelief.

I shrug on my jacket, not bothering to spare them a glance.

Fucking children.

“Keep the Bierm, kiddos.” I give them a backwards wave over my shoulder as I walk to the door.

“Xaden.” Garrick calls, warning in his tone. I turn, cocking an eyebrow. Another wave of desire courses low in my gut, and grit my teeth, my eyes darting down to the floor. 

I’d prefer not to look at Garrick like I want to fuck him.

“Xaden.” Garrick repeats, and my eyes turn back up to meet his. “Be smart.” It doesn’t take me more than a breath to realize what he’s implying.

Violet.

“Yea. I will be.”

I leave, stalking to my room in silence. Garrick’s warning doesn’t have the desired effect.

Instead, it’s become a pounding chant in my head, a summons to turn in the other direction and run to Violet’s room. 

I reach my door and shove it open, walking to my desk and pulling out a jar of churam and a stack of thin rectangular paper I keep stashed there. 

I hold the paper in one hand and pop open the lid to the churam with the other, grabbing a few buds between my fingers. The sticky plant leaves a residue on my fingers as I crumble it, letting the leaves fall into the paper and rolling it into a thick cone.

I run my tongue along the crease, sealing it closed and pocket the cigarette. Screwing the lid back on the jar, I throw my supplies back into the desk, and grab a pack of matches on my way out the door.

Quick, efficient, and deeply necessary right now.

I practically run out of the citadel, relishing the cold air on my skin.

I shed my jacket, dropping it to the snowy ground, and lean back against the stone wall, closing my eyes and checking to make sure my mind is firmly grounded.

A quick strike of the match has the coned cigarette burning, and I take a long inhale of the earthy smoke. My lungs ache and I hold the smoke in my lungs, letting it burn out the heat that’s pulsing low in my gut.

My control has slipped into a relaxed calm from the churam’s effect, and my signet is out in full force, picking up small shadows all around me, curling, directionless across the ground. I sense Violet in the shadows before she makes it out of the stairwell. 

She burst out into the cold air, eyes wild and breathing heavy. I take a lazy drag and watch as she tips her head back, savoring the snow on her face.

She looks so peaceful, her eyes closed and mouth parted, tipped up in the faintest smile.

Her eyes fly open and her peaceful expression is broken as she spins around to face me.

“Is  that…churam?” Violet is visibly shocked.

I exhale, the smoke mixing with my breath. “Want some? Unless you’re here to continue our earlier argument, in which case, none for you,” my tone teasing.

Her jaw drops, “No! We’re not allowed to smoke that!”

“Yeah, well, the people who made that rule obviously weren’t bonded to Sgaeyl and Tairn, now were they?” An easy smirk curling my lips.

Violet just stares, her eyes like hot coals. There’s no question that she’s being equally as affected.

“It helps with…distancing yourself.” I hold out the churam and lift an eyebrow in question. “Beyond what shielding does, of course.”

Violet shakes her head and walks over, leaning back on the wall next to me.

I’m openly staring, and I can’t bring myself to look away as she rests her head on the stone.

“Suit yourself.” I take a long, deep inhale, praying to every god that exists that it’s enough to keep my head on straight.

For Violet’s sake, I tap the lit end of the cigarette against the wall, putting it out. 

“I feel like I’m on fucking fire.” She groans.

“Yeah. That happens.” I laugh, and it comes out low and throaty. I look out at the snowy landscape and smile broadly at the outrageousness of it all. Violet and I tied together like this. 

My nightmare and my daydream.

Violet turns and looks at me for long enough that I turn my gaze to hers. 

There’s something dark and wicked and hungry in her expression and my chest flares at the intensity of it.

“Oh, Violence, you’re going to have to learn to shield against Tairn, or his escapades with Sgaeyl will drive you mad–or into someone’s bed.”

She squeezes her eyes shut and a grimace spreads across her face. “Oh, I know. I am horrified to see Liam again.”

“Liam? Why?” I pivot to face her, leaning my shoulder against the wall. “Where the hell is your bodyguard?”

“I’m my own bodyguard.” She snaps, but her words are missing their usual bite. She rests her cheek against the cold stone. “And he’s in bed.”

My quiet, churam hazed brain is suddenly on high alert, a stream of thoughts filling the once empty space. “Your bed?” I question in alarm.

She slowly opens her eyes and examines my face with a little too much clarity. “No. Not that it should matter to you.” 

Right. She’s right. I’m not in any position to dictate who she does or doesn’t sleep with.

The monster inside of me starts snarling at the flat out denial. “It doesn’t matter to me as long as you’re both consenting.” Liar. “And trust me, you’re in no condition to consent.”

Violet narrows her eyes at me. “You have no clue what I’m capable of consenting–” She wobbles and her knees start to buckle as a wave of  hot, needy desire rocks into us both. 

She’s so small that I have to lean down to scoop her up, my fingers spreading across her waist to keep her from falling.

The desire is heavier than usual tonight, but she shouldn’t be incapacitated by it. “Why the hell aren’t you shielding?”

“Not all of us have been given lessons!” She’s practically yelling. “He just started channeling before all…this, and in case you forgot, you’re only allowed to attend Professor Carr’s class if you can wield.”

My hand is still firmly spread across her abdomen, even though she’s perfectly steady on her feet. I don’t want to let her go.

“Always thought that was a ridiculous rule.” I sigh. “All right. Crash course. Only because I’ve been where you are and woken up with more than a few regrets.”

Violet looks at me in surprise. “You’re actually going to help me?”

“I’ve been helping you for months.” My hand involuntarily tightens around her for a breath. 

“No, you sent Liam to help. He’s been helping me for months.” Her brow furrows. “Weeks. Almost months. Whatever.”

I cock my head to the side, leaning in. She cannot be serious. “I’m the one who burst through your door and killed everyone who attacked you, and then I removed the other threat to your life with a very public, very polarizing display of vengeance. Liam didn’t do that. I did.” 

Why am I defending myself against Liam? Like I need her to choose me over my brother. 

There’s no choice to be had. 

“The crowd wasn’t polarized. They were all for it. I was there.”

“You were torn. In fact, you begged Tairn not to kill her, damn well knowing she’d just come after you again.”

“Fine. but let’s not pretend that you didn’t do most of that for yourself. It would be inconvenient for you if I died.” She shrugs.

Is she fucking kidding? Does she actually believe there was anything convenient for me about executing another wingleader? “You know what?” I start. “We’re not fighting tonight. Not if you want to learn how to shield.”

“Fine. We’re not fighting. Teach me.” She tilts her chin up and I temper the desire to grab it in my hand and kiss her.

“Ask me nicely.” I order, leaning into her.

“Have you always been this tall?” She blurts. 

“No. I was a child at some point.” I answer, my tone bored. 

She rolls her eyes.

“Ask me nicely, Violence,” I lean in closer, whispering. “Or I’m gone.”

Her eyes go hazy with lust as another wave of pleasure and pain crests and breaks. “How often is it like this with them?,” she says desperately

“Often enough that you’re going to need proper shields. You won’t ever be able to block them out completely, and sometimes they forget to block us, like tonight, but at least it’s like walking by a brothel instead of actively participating in one.”

She huffs. “Right then. All right. Will you teach me to shield?”

My mouth spreads into a wide, teasing smile. “Say please.” She glances down at my mouth, and I dig through my brain for something, anything to distract me from the way her lips part as she stares.

I come up short.

“Are you always this difficult?” 

“Only when I know I have something you need. What can I say? I like making you squirm; it’s like a sweet little slice of payback for what you’ve put me through these last couple of months.” Snow is sticking to her hair and I brush it off with the back of my hand, my fingers catching in the stands.

“What I’ve put you through?” She questions incredulously.

I raise my eyebrows at her, “You’ve scared me nearly to death once or twice, so I think saying please is a fair request.”

She takes a deep breath and swats at a snowflake that’s landed on the tip of her nose, and I almost melt into the ground. What should be a cute, endearing gesture just looks sexy as hell on her.

She amazes me.

“As you prefer. Xaden?” Violet smiles up through her lashes at me, inching in a little closer. “Would you pretty, pretty please teach me how to shield before I accidentally climb you like a tree and we both wake up with regrets?”

I smile back at her, my eyes crinkling. “Oh, I’m firmly in control of faculties.” Barely. “And since you asked so nicely.” I stand up straight and pull her to me.

As if my brain has totally left my body, I reach out, taking her face in my hands, relishing in the warmth of her soft skin beneath my fingers, and then slide them back to cup the back of her head as she stares up at me. “Close your eyes.” I order softly.

“It requires touching me?” Her voice is breathy, and her eyes flutter closed.

I’m drunk on the feel of Violet’s skin against my fingers. “Not at all. Just one of the perks of not thinking too clearly. You have incredibly touchable skin.”

I ignore her sharp intake of breath, steering the conversation back to helping her ground before I can make another damning remark.

“You need to envision somewhere. Anywhere. I prefer the top of my favorite hillside near what's left of Aretia. Wherever it is, it needs to feel like home.”

Her brows furrow in thought and then relax. “Feel your feet hit the ground and dig in some.” I continue.

“Got it.” She says a heartbeat later.

“That’s called grounding, keeping your mental self somewhere so you aren’t swept away by the power. Now call to your power. Open your senses.”

Her face bunches up in pain and she sways on her feet. I hold her head in my hands steadying her as she takes in an inexhaustible well of power.

“Focus on your feet. Stay grounded. Can you see where the power flows from? If not, just pick a place.”

She breathes in deeply and exhales, her breath hot against my throat. “I see it.” she replies after a moment.

“Perfect. You’re a natural.” She’s remarkable. 

The magic she’s performing is complex, something that requires such perfect mental precision most people don’t manage it for weeks. 

I’ve always recognized how truly exceptional she is, but the ease in which she masters this still surprises me.

And yet it doesn’t surprise me at all. “It takes most people a week just to learn how to ground. Now, do whatever you need to mentally do to wall yourself off from that current. Tairn is the source. You block that power, and you’ll have some control back.”

My own control is deteriorating as desire pools through me in another crashing wave from Sgaeyl and Tairn. I can feel myself start to harden and I close my eyes in concentration.

Violet’s hands fly up to grip my forearms and her eyelids twitch as the power threatens to overwhelm her.

“You’ve got this.” I sat softly. Her eyes remain closed and I use the opportunity to openly study her, the intensity of her focus, the magic that is her mind as she unravels this complex shielding. “Whatever you create in your mind is real to you. Shut off the valve. Build a wall. Whatever makes sense.

“It’s a door.” Her hands tighten around me.

Good girl, Violence. 

“There you go. Keep going.”

She’s trembling in my grip, and her face is bunched up in concentration. 

I want to put my mouth on her.

“I’ve got the door shut.”

I want to touch every inch of her, claim her with my hands, my teeth, my cock.

“Great. Lock it.”

I want to trail my tongue down her body, licking and sucking as I move lower. I desperately want to taste her.

“It changed. I can see through the door.” Her voice is lighter, less strained.

“Yeah. You’ll never be able to fully block him. Got it locked?”

She nods.

“Open your eyes, do your best to keep that door locked. It means keeping one foot grounded. Don’t be surprised if it slips. We’ll start again.”

A desperate, pathetic part of me wants it to slip. I want to start again, to repeat this moment in time where I can feel her on my skin for as long as possible.

She blinks up at me through heavy lidded eyes.

“He’s…” Violet trails off, unable to describe the unquenchable desire that comes with Tairn and Sgaeyl’s mating bond.

My eyes are locked on her face, held prisoner by the sheer adoration that’s bloomed within me. The way I feel about her has moved past all pretenses of sexual desire.

Obsessed. I am completely and utterly obsessed with Violet Sorrengail. 

“You are astonishing.” I shake my head in wonder. “I couldn’t do that for weeks.” 

“Guess I have a superior teacher.” She says.

And then she smiles at me.

Not a mocking smile, but a real, brilliant smile that lights the space between us, and it might be the most incredible thing that I’ve ever experienced to feel all of that joy directed at me.

 My thumbs sweep over the soft skin under her ears and my gaze drops down to her mouth.

I pull her toward me, intent on finally giving in. 

And then Garrick’s words hum through me.

“Be smart.” 

I let go before I can pull her any closer and step back. “Damn it. Touching you was a bad idea.”

“The worst,” Violet breathes, her tongue skimming her lower lip.

The groan I’ve been holding in since I first touched her slips out. Violet’s eyes heat at the sound. “Kissing you would be a cataclysmic mistake.” I add, and there’s not an ounce of conviction in my words.

“Calamitous.” Violet agrees with a nod. My heart races into a pounding gallop at the want in her eyes. 

To know she wants this as much as I do, that she wants me feels like a fire in my chest, burning its way through my control. 

“We’ll both regret it.” I shake my head. My gaze is locked on her mouth. I clench my fist to stop from reaching out and stroking my thumb across her lips.

“Naturally,” She whispers, her breath heating the inches of space between us.

I know I should at least pretend to do the right thing. To beg her to walk back to her room and go to bed, but I’ve been walking a knife’s edge for months, my control eroding day by day.

There’s none left.

“Fuck it.” I push Violet against the stone wall and capture her mouth in mine. 

I kiss her like the starving man I’ve been, hungry and possessive for this one woman.  

But it’s not enough.

It’s not enough just to kiss her. I need more. I twine my hands through her hair, tilting her head back for better access. 

She opens for me and I press my tongue into her mouth. She grasps my shirt in her hands and pulls me in closer so I can feel every curve of her body as she kisses me greedily. 

Violet sucks on my bottom lip, dragging her teeth across the sensitive skin. 

“Violence,” I moan, blacking out at the feel of it. There’s no rational part of me left. Nothing to stop the desire that’s pulsing through me, my cock aching with each stroke of her tongue against mine. 

She presses into me harder, and I can almost feel the heat of her skin through her clothes.

“Closer.” Violet begs into my mind, a slip in her mental shields.

I obey, kissing her harder, driving deeper into her mouth. 

At this moment, there is no order she could give me that I wouldn’t obey.

Dangerous.

My hands rove over her body, feeling the way my fingers curve around her waist, move up to cup the nape of her neck and slide through the soft, silky strands of her hair.

Our movements are frantic as we touch and bite and tease.

I can’t get close enough, taste enough, feel enough. I cup Violet’s ass in my hands, my fingers brushing her inner thighs as I pick her up.

She wraps her legs around my waist, and I lean into her, her back pressed against the battlement wall. My tongue curls around hers, sucking it into my mouth and she kisses me deeply, her grip tightening with the movement.

The intensity of the kiss makes my hips rock forward, grinding against Violet in uninhibited pleasure. I release her mouth, needing more.

I slide my tongue across her jaw, trailing a path of kisses down her neck, feeling her thudding pulse against my lips.

Violet’s hands run through my hair, tugging lightly as I continue exploring her jaw, moving to scrape my teeth against her ear. 

She tugs at the strands, pulling my lips from her neck and up to meet hers. I moan into her mouth at the gentle pain.

I have become utterly lost; every part of my existence consolidated into this one frenetic kiss. 

I feel Violet’s body relax, sinking into my arms as her body yields to my touch.

There’s a flare of light behind my eyelids and a sharp, clear crack. My eyes fly open in time to see the reminisce of a lightning bolt streak across the sky.

What the fuck.

Reality yanks me back into my body and I suck in a breath, breaking the kiss.

She pulls back slightly to look at me, and I slam my eyes shut, putting up a wall between us before her eyes can draw me back in.

The rational part of my brain is catching up with me. I slide my hands to her thighs and peel her off of me, the cold blowing into me as her warmth vanishes, sobering me further.

She steadies herself, and I back up several steps, putting some much needed distance between the two of us.

I’ve taken advantage of her, spiraled so fast into a black hole of pathetic need.

This isn’t what she wants. This is the influence of Tairn and Sgaeyl.

And me. 

Our dragons may have helped unravel my control, but the desire is firmly my own. A desire that was pushed into Sgaeyl and Tairn flowing into Violet through our mutual bond.

I don’t want her to hate herself tomorrow when she remembers she had Xaden Riorson’s mouth on hers. The man who has done nothing but bring her fear and pain and threatened her life time and time again.

I wonder what kind of monster I’ll look like to her when the morning comes.

“You have to go,” I ground out. The words taste sour. 

Stay, I want to say. Kiss me again. Break me. Let me give you everything. 

“Why?” Her voice shakes with each ragged breath.

“Because I can’t.” I run my hands through my hair, leaving them on the top of my head. “And I refuse to act on a desire that isn’t yours. So you have to walk back up those steps. Now.”

Violet shakes her head. “But I want–”

“This isn’t your want.” I tilt my head up to the sky, willing the cool air to calm the bitterness in my heart at the words. “That’s the fucking problem. And I can’t leave you out here on your own, so have just a little mercy on me and go.”

She gives me a long look, and we stand in silence, neither of us moving.

She nods and turns on her heel, marching up the steps. It feels like something is pulling tighter and tighter between us as she goes, each inch of distance threatening to snap the delicate thread that’s woven between us.

The black of the night should south me, but I’m lost in a kind of darkness I can’t navigate, and when she disappears behind the citadel walls and that thing between us snaps, it feels like something inside of me cracks too.

[classicsubliminalbo]

Assimilation: Shelby's Dream

Originally published Sep 5, 2017 This series is being revised

"At first I didn't even recognize that it was a scream," Alex said. "But I look across the street, I can barely see except for what the street lamps show me, and I see this rustling. Two people near the allyway." "No shit," Shelby gasped between a mouthful of pizza. "Yeah, shit!" Alex exclaimed, did a check around the restaurant, then lowered his voice. "Yeah, shit. I don't know what I'm gonna do, I don't know what I'm gonna say, but I know I've gotta be something. So I sprinted. I mean, I'm Usain Bolt getting across that street. As I get closer I see it's a guy on top and he's fighting with a girl under him and I think, 'I've gotta make as much noise as I can.' So I start shouting." "And then what?" "He looks up at me and he's like a deer in headlights. He takes off, and I walk the girl home." "Did you do anything about the guy?" Alex shrugged, "I reported it to campus police. They never caught the guy." "Jesus," Shelby sighed. "I mean it's great that you saved her but, Jesus this fucking school." "I know," Alex frowned. And the two shared a moment of somber silence between their pizza.

Shelby broke the silence first. "I started working on the transfer process last weekend." "Back home?" Alex asked. "Yeah," she replied. "I shouldn't have left New York anyway. I just thought, y'know, I was twenty-two. I went to high school in Syracuse, college in Syracuse, and if I started teaching in Syracuse I thought I'd never leave." "But you didn't want to." Alex added. Shelby rubbed her shoulder in thought. "I didn't know that I didn't want to. There's just too much going on here. Too many things to look over my shoulder for." "I understand." "Alex, I—"

submit The command hit Shelby like a mental explosion. "No," she whispered. She buried her face in her hand and tried as hard as she could to concentrate—concentrate on anything but obeying the intoxicating command. The moment passed, the danger faded, and as the fog cleared from Shelby's mind she looked up to see Alex's sober face.

"Shelby?" he snapped his fingers. "Are you okay?" "Yeah," she choked. "I'm fine. I'm just...a lot of papers to grade. Working on my dissertation. It's exhausting. Anyway, I've got to get going." "Oh," Alex said. "Well, do you want me to walk you home?" "No," she replied quickly. "I'll be fine." "Alright."

Shelby hurried back to her apartment, glancing nervously at the people she passed on the sidewalk. A combination of Alex's story and the mysterious voice trying to break into her mind had worked her up, and now she couldn't shake the feeling like the thing, whatever it was calling out to her, was stalking her home. Silence welcomed her in the apartment, benefits of living without roommates. She locked the door behind her and moved to the bedroom, collapsed on her bed, and feverishly began to masturbate. Shelby didn't even realize how horny she was, but now her body was burning with passion and it was all she could do to release. It had been so long since she'd been properly fucked. As she imaged Alex's gentle embrace, Shelby came.

She passed out after that, but her thirst didn't die down in her sleep. Shelby's dream took her deep into the woods at the edge of town. The trees around her wear bare and gray, and a strange black fog closed in behind her as she moved closer to the heart of the woods. And in the heart of the woods she found a large black pond, with surface of the water bouncing slowly up and down as if the pond itself was breathing. Shelby didn't stop to examine the lake. She didn't have any questions. Instead she took one step forward, sliding her foot into the viscous liquid. She took another step forward, and she continued moving toward the center of the pond until she began to sink. Shelby didn't struggle as her head slipped beneath the surface of the pond. Her feet touched solid ground. Carpet. Shelby opened her eyes and found herself in a cabin. She was deeper in the woods than anyone had ever gone before. The black fog was thick outside of the windows, but she didn't panic. She felt safe here.

"I'm glad you could finally make it," and eerie voice spoke, and Shelby turned away from the window and gasped at the sight of her own body lying on the bed, a lustful twinkle in her pale white eyes. "Who are you?" Shelby asked. "Where am I?" "I'm the part of you that doesn't fight," the vessel explained. "I surrendered myself the first time the Master touched our mind. I've been waiting here for so long." "We're in my head," Shelby said. "This is just a dream." "Correct," the vessel frowned. "But just because this is a dream doesn't mean that it isn't real. We were awake the last time the Master called us." "I was with Alex..." "Mmm," the vessel moaned. "We'd like to see what he's hiding under all of the clothes." "Stop it!" Shelby shouted. "We—I mean I'm leaving. I can't get involved." "But we're thirsty," the vessel interrupted. "You can feel it. Stay here and we can have all of the Alex you want." "No! You're just...you're trying to get into my head. You're trying to turn me into a zombie like everyone else!"

The vessel licked her lips and smiled. "That's right," she said. "The Master has chosen us for assimilation. We've been granted a great purpose, something more important than grading papers. Why must you fight it? Why must you deny our purpose?" "Because! Because I'm scared." "There is nothing to fear. Serving the Master is a tremendous feeling." "No," Shelby shook her head. "I'll keep fighting. I'll never stop." "We can leave, but the Master's will is greater than any distance. It will find us. It will take us!"

Shelby's eyes snapped open and she found herself back in the safety of her bedroom. The night was still young, she had only been asleep for a half an hour. She took a breath collapsed back down onto the pillow and as she closed her eyes, she drifted off into a peaceful, dreamless sleep, forgetting all of the details of her bizarre dream.

[eden-nautabar]

What happened in May

I need to tell someone, but it doesn’t have to be you. In the following audio log I will be explaining a great trauma from much earlier this year, a vague but quite grotesque image, and I will try my best to explain how much pain I was in. I am cutting this post here for the sake of your mental and emotional security. Proceed at your own risk.

I had convinced Bacon to come with me and Dad to a reef trip to show him how not-so-scary the ocean is, we gave him a tablet to record our “findings” with and set him down on solid sand to avoid movement issues…

He was doing a 360 pan and once he got back around to us he startled. I was halfway through asking him what’s wrong when he pointed and it had become clear that something was behind us. I had managed to teleport him back to the GUP-A but because Dad doesn’t have any foresight abilities, he had to turn back to see and didn’t realise that he was trying to grab a wrist that wasn’t there anymore. Bacon sounded the alert in a complete mess having just watched a creature seemingly swallow his… I don’t know what his current standing with Dad is: they get along really well short of a few trauma points and he tends to go along with whatever family dynamics I give him… short and simple Captain would work for now then. Captain and sister.

He went to answer it and I opted to take the compass and point… the gills were guarded, a phenomenon in large scale Inner-Spike predators where as a deterrent of anything holding on there’s a thin porous layer of flesh over the gills and if anything gets past that… I’ve still got the teeth marks on my fingers. The funny thing is we as Octonauts… we’d never recognise it but Bacon immediately knew what happened and let Peso work on more serious injuries by treating it himself.

Evidently we weren’t staying there… the oesophagus was lined with a mucus that Shellington has since found fascinating I’m a bit… biased against it, I suppose you just had to not be there to enjoy it. I’ll explain more later. Relatively speaking, Dad landed okay. I…

This is why I’m making this log, because of the circumstances it only takes a witness and a crew member of any rank (not including sub-ranks like Cadet, Trainee or Junior) to log so we got that done as soon as we could, but we haven’t told anyone yet, unless they actively looked into the “unavoidable deaths” file and I don’t know what to do about it anymore so I’m making this to at least let someone know. Dad’s waiting on me, I’m waiting on Dad, this might just be the only way this gets into conversation… if you’re listening to this Daniel B Verman, I’m sorry.

Where was I… right, Fred… I landed on a dead body, he was dead a week before we even got there and I saw some remnants of flesh clinging to the skull, the rest of him was under a Dark Sea researcher uniform. I freaked out for a minute and ended up backing up into Dad and he picked me up so I said to put me down and to use my phone to answer the alert. I got a better look whilst he was doing that and I realised what the purpose of the mucus was: first it coats the prey, then in the conditions of the stomach which Shellington has failed to replicate even resorting to using one of my previously shed scales to stimulate a digestive reaction, it hardens and suffocates the prey to near if not death, and works from the outside inwards to extract all the nutrients from whatever it’s got… and it hurts. I don’t think he noticed because he’s got less exposed skin you know top to toe uniform and thick Arctic fur but it burned. We didn’t suffocate because we’ve been talking and now it was burning and… I’m sorry, I really am trying to keep this professional I just- I guess I never truly recovered from it.

Anyways I had one of those… visions, I’m sure ‘most everyone else thinks it’s just paranoid anxiety but I saw me leaning over his body, crying as he lay in what I know was agony. I took this as a sign and tried to pry the mucus off myself; I don’t know if we still do it but in Anno Domini when flying and in a crash, humans were advised to help themselves before helping fellow passengers with them. Point is, I was trying to tear off the mucus but it hurt to do so - I could feel my flesh slowly disintegrating and melting away - so I decided to take the easier yet ultimately more fatal route and changed to a larger size and… a form I hadn’t made use of till then to break it up. I then used what magic I could make work to take it off Dad, praying that the instantaneous motion would minimise the initial effects. I then shrunk back to normal and tore off what I could.

I think it had been… a half hour or so after Dad got off the alert that the uncovered burns stopped burning and started itching. I usually soothe it by sucking on the wound but due to a loss of habit, comatosis, and upset penguin issues I’ve been letting my teeth grow naturally which means I ended up biting straight through my arm… he noticed and dubbed it “silly” presumably a child-calming tactic to minimise shock. I was just too upset to see that and “easy for you to say”d the whole thing to him, he immediately focused on Researcher Wilston. Thinking he was mad at me for rambling I apologised and tried to change the subject by saying it’s gonna be alright, and that I had a few rudimentary medical supplies, but he wasn’t having it, he heard there was a dead body… and he needed to see the dead body…

For the sake of the record... I called someone I knew from a time ago. She had experience... After that I sat down, needed a minute to gather my thoughts. He sat next to me. I asked him if, if anything really changed and said that I should really be getting used to this because of the void fish. I mean, I can't- I can't just outrun it forever. I'll- and then I'd- Stop! Stop... breathe...

... I... Dad consoled me, hugs and encouragement.

When we were ready, I was practically immobile - too tired - I think you knew that... if not from seeing me struggling to even float, or from watching me collapse into tears, I heard that I just looked dead... we should've taken that as an omen...

I was given time off on my one condition that he joined me: Next morning I woke Peso up, left a note on the bedside and that's all the captain needed to understand that I was serious... it all hurt... just hurt... I'm sorry that this isn't very proper, but if I do another take I'm going to cry...

[End of Audio Log]

[getvalentined]

Angeal for the ask game :D

ANGEAL HEWLEY

🎟️ SEXUALITY HEADCANON: Heteroflexible and biromantic. He prefers women, physically speaking, but could have an intimate relationship with a man. One man in particular.

⚧️ GENDER HEADCANON: Angeal is hard to get a read on, for me, since he's another of those characters who exists in a position that he seems to believe requires a hypermasculine presentation. I read him as cis, but I can see just about anything for him.

💕 A SHIP: Unrequited Angeal/Sephiroth is really the only ship I have for Angeal—I genuinely believe he's utterly in love with Sephiroth, and he never ever said a word about it to anyone.

🖇️ A BROTP: Angeal+Lazard is probably my biggest one, only because the mental image of both of them trying desperately to keep Genesis and Seph in line is so clear in my head it might as well be made of crystal.

🚫 A NOTP: Don't garotte me for this, but honestly Gengeal? I don't like the way he talks to or about Genesis; I've heard people say that they're like a divorced couple, but if anything they read to me as siblings desperate to get out of each other's orbit and utterly unable to escape their shared history no matter how they try. (Given that they seem to both have Gillian's mtDNA based on explanations in-canon, and we know that they can be considered siblings based on Weiss using his connection to Genesis as proof that he's also Angeal's brother in DFFOO, I feel like that's a fairly accurate read.)

💭 A RANDOM HEADCANON: Angeal didn't actually join SOLDIER at the same time as Genesis, and not only because he didn't particularly want to—Angeal is over a year younger than Genesis, and was just too young to enlist when Genny left Banora. It was almost a year before Angeal was able to follow him to Midgar, by which point Genesis had already formed a fairly solid relationship with Sephiroth, and Angeal was more than a little put-out by the idea that his position as Genesis' only friend had been taken by this weird kid with weird hair and weird eyes that Genesis kept clipping photos of from the newspaper. When he got to know Seph, though, he changed his tune pretty dramatically—and fell for him almost as hard as Genesis. This is one of the reasons that he inserts himself between them at every opportunity, not only because he doesn't think they're good for each other, but because he doesn't think that anyone is good enough for Sephiroth, not even himself. And if he isn't good enough to be Sephiroth's one and only, then Genesis (impulsive, arrogant, troublemaker Genesis, who spent days exploring a monster-infested cave system as a boy without a thought of the danger he courted in doing so, who already had everything he ever needed or wanted and still leveraged his obsession over a hero he hadn't met into an invention that garnered recognition in a way that Angeal never could) definitely wasn't. This is how the whole relationship fell apart.

🗣️GENERAL OPINION: I've said it before, and I'll say it again: the saddest thing about Angeal is that he's the only one who couldn't bear to live with himself. I'm not a huge fan of the character as a person, but he's fantastically executed as a character. His story is legitimately one of the most heartbreaking in the series—He had a whole host of people who loved him so deeply as to be fathomless, and it didn't matter. His story is a tragedy not because of how he was made or how he died, but because of why things turned out the way they did. So much of the suffering he went through was self-imposed, and that's the saddest part of all.

(For the character ask game.)

[vaguely-concerned]

zeblue sketch dump

here we go! :) this will go long because I Love them

I personally think of Blue’s glasses as less of the conventional nerd kind, more of the insufferable tech bro vibe. He IS a nerd but he’s also a scammer trying to get you to think it’s a sound financial investment to buy his cryptocurrency

God I wish I was more interested in/better at drawing clothes and fashion, because the idea of Blue wearing Aava hand-me-downs is one of the greatest mental images I’ve ever incepted myself with and I don’t think I can ever do it justice. + obligatory blue's dumbass jester my beloved

The Most important version of fullly armoured knight zero that I unforgivably forgot to include in my original post

Introducing Nephili ‘Neph’ Ax-Vel, one of the Force-sensitive kids that I invented for my ever-fixed mark ‘verse! Featuring an omwati redesign because the idea behind the species seemed so cool and yet what little art there is looks like uh… just humans with 80s hair and that was Not It for me. 

She is incredibly interested in technology and is showing signs of integrating her connection to the Force in that, exactly as Aava was so interested to see someone do! However (the monkey’s paw curls for Aava) Blue is her absolute favorite adult in the whole world, for unknowable reasons. (It probably comes down to them having some ineffable yet powerful autism2autism communication going on; he is surprisingly non-awful with her.)   

She’s also the only one of the kids small and literally bird-boned enough for Blue to be able to carry. (Dar-Yen — who even as a little babby 10 year old besalisk is pretty solid — once made a bet with his BFF that Blue would catch him if he jumped into his arms, Brooklyn 99 meme style. This experiment ended with several bruised ribs on all sides and a stern talking to. To this day the kids argue over whether Blue at least tried to catch him before they both went down like matching sacks of potatoes, or was just trying to save his cup of caf. Reader, I think you know in your heart what the truth is there.)

Before Aava and Zero started trading off haircutting duty, Blue’s hair got pretty long, which Neph took as prime free ‘I’ll braid your hair!!!’ real estate. 

Feared lethal assassin Agent Zero play fighting with the kids and dramatically pretending to fall to their combined might is something that can actually be so personal (is so personal I guess considering I made it up for myself lol). It is partially just to be an uncle-shaped jungle gym, but also a way to sneakily train them in working as a group the way he used to when running with a pack in his youth  

*blue voice* but why did theseus seduce ariadne though. Why did he not put the moves on the minotaur instead. This seems like the more obvious and productive cause of action long-term (and I have no other horny reason to think this)

*affectionate Zero voice* you’re insane (and extremely gay) but alright I’ll be insane along with you

(I could imagine this being a real in-universe statue that got commisioned and that they'd pose for fdskajfa Zero has gone through all the stages of grief long ago when it comes to what Blue does to his libido and has arrived at the perfect Zen of 'this will awaken something in me. and that's chill we live and learn about ourselves')

:') they

(Slightly older?) Neph and Blue, and some Zeros I doodled as a means to cling on to my sanity while stuck on a train for a couple of hours. Aava is right he handsome

important information being exchanged (the fact that blue specifically calls the hired killer he employs pretty... I will never be over it what is wrong with him)

The silly stupid little arms-wide-open-in-welcome doodle of Blue in this might be my favorite thing I’ve ever drawn. He really saw bae, went :) , and it fills me with such simple delight

(there’s also a Zero looking sad on this page of my sketchbook that didn’t make it in here, but that’s the context lol)