#it just feels like placing more on top of it instead of expanding it

[clockwise-works]

So I got Shadow Generations for Christmas, and honestly?

A pretty good ass time, ngl! I don't think I've enjoyed one of these games since... well, the original Generations lmao.

BUT. Leave it to the Frontiers level for being the worst zone in the game. Even the Act 1 music is ass 💀

[tojisun]

EXPAND ON THIS

https://www.tumblr.com/tojisun/758472884430716928/no-matter-how-hard-you-try-you-just-cant-make

AND MY LIFE IS YOURS

aww im glad that u (all) liked that blurb!! didnt expect the vitriol in ur guys’ reactions but ykw? samesies <3 oki uhh so heres something quick and simple

cw: fivesome (but they go in order, also simon doesnt properly get a turn im sorry 😞); f!reader; subspace; builds up into consensual noncon; unrealistic sex; rambly as hell and its set up messily; wc is 3.6k :’3

(you tell them it’s a wrong send, and that it’s meant for johnny so they all said, “oh damn. welp,” and leaves you and johnny to go at it all night long teehee <33) (jk) (unless) (no ok im jk)

johnny fucks you first. the guys didn’t complain, and trickled into your room, ready to fall to whatever place they could sit down to watch. johnny laughs, and tugs you towards him, gently slapping your hand away when you try to cover yourself up with your shirt, and tells them, “watch me.”

not us, but me. like you’re a nameless hole whose only worth is to be fucked, and somehow that… doesn’t deter you at all.

instead, you ignore the warmth flooding in your cheeks and the stares that drag on your body, and focused on johnny’s smirk and his crooning words and his wide palms roving over whatever sliver of your skin he can touch. he positions himself in between your legs, his fatigues an uncomfortable sensation against your oversensitive skin.

he doesn’t care. he drags down his zipper and frees his cock from his briefs, before swiping his palm on the inside of your thigh, gathering the excess lube glistening there to use it as oil for his prick. your nose scrunches when he brings his hand to give himself a quick tug, foreskin peeling from the head to show off how flushed it is.

he crawls until he’s on top of you, and throws out, “let me show ye how to fuck ‘er, yes?”

you don’t even realize the words are for the rest of the squad because he’s already slipping his cock in your cunt, slow and careful, and you keen because yessss—

this is the delicious burn you’ve wanted. oh god oh god—

it didn’t even take johnny long before you’re cumming, your throat spasming at the scream that rips itself out from within you. your hips rise from the bed, your body jolting, unable to ground itself at the breaking euphoria that forced shockwaves to raze your synapses.

you fall on the bed limply, satiation filling you up in lapping waves. johnny pulls out and fucks his fist and sprays his cum all over your stomach. he musses it up, rubbing his palm against it like it’s a damn lotion, and lathers whatever inch of your belly he can cover.

it’s gross and weird, especially as the recollection that you’ve had an audience hits you, but then johnny’s stepping back and moving away. you try to shut your legs close, but someone’s already shuffling in, taking up the space that johnny had carved out.

you stare up at your captain, shock filling you up. he doesn’t ask with words but he quirks his brow up, waiting, and you don’t know what it is, but you give him a nod before ducking your head to the side.

which was a mistake, you learn, because you make eye contact with kyle; kyle who is—was—slowly rubbing himself through his pants, his palm gliding over his chub. his eyes are blown wide and he looks ravenous as he meets your gaze.

you hiccup, feeling cornered and delighted at the same time, but then john’s rubbing his cock along your messy folds, using the mess you and johnny made to lube himself up, and you mewl, tearing your eyes away from kyle to meet john’s stare head on.

he looks… calm. not teasing nor hungry, but poised with forced grace like this is another mission, and he has willed his full body to sync together so that not even a stray strand of hair will falter and miss a beat.

you don’t know how to position that with yourself, not like you needed to dwell on it any further because john’s already thrusting in. like johnny, he is careful, but he is more cautious, pushing inch by inch without even a ragged breath like he’s scoping out your reaction before he could let out his.

god, why’s everything so difficult with him—even now, speared with his cock, you still don’t know how to react. it’s like you’re a recruit all over again, dawdling underneath your CO’s scrutiny. it’s jarring, terrifying, really, but then john’s drooping onto you, his head tipping down to nuzzle close to your jaw, and this level of intimacy is what rips a moan out of you. it is drawn out and high-pitched, and so, so utterly debauched.

you hear more than see john’s pleased laugh, his breaths coming out in puffs that brush against your neck in a ticklish manner. the moment drags on—nuzzles and quiet huffs, and slow rocks of his hips almost like he’s taking his time to savour you; to allow you to get used to his size because he’s so different from johnny.

johnny is thick, but john is long. he is reaching deeper than you have ever known, and it’s so overwhelming that you begin to cling to him, in need of any way to ground yourself down from the slow-racing pleasure.

you don’t know how long he’s got you like that, but then he’s pulling back and away, and, “nonono, please. please, sir—”

“shh, i’ve got you,” he rumbles, still so utterly quiet that it forces out the tears faster, and you know something’s changed because john is looking at you with a proud smile, all tactile as he manhandles you to your side, before disappearing behind you. you feel your head being lifted then dropped onto something harder than your pillow, and it is only the smell of ozone that lets you know that john had pillowed your head with his arm, while the other snakes around your waist to pull you closer to him.

you stare at the expanse of your room but everything looks like they’re appearing underneath a hazy filter, so you blink your eyes to clear them from that mist but it remains unchanged. you feel heavy, all of sudden, like you’re submerged in water, wading through the ripples. floating.

you try to look at the others but all you see are blurs of colours, and you know this should terrify you, you know something’s happening in your mind, but you feel so good. so happy. so you fold into yourself, accepting the haze with a keen because john’s fucking back into you.

it is still so utterly gentle, like love-making, and this makes you sob because the euphoria is dizzying and overwhelming. it is something you haven’t felt before—johnny fucks you like a man starved; john fucks you like he’s trying to meld himself into you. or you into him.

it is so drastically different, and you were made to navigate the changing tides. but you can’t, not when john—

“fuck!” you scream, thrashing in his hold, but john ignores your voice as his heavy hand falls on your cunt with consistent smacks.

you feel lightheaded, untethered, and this is what pushes you to the edge. your orgasm is cataclysmic. it’s like having the fabrics of your reality collide until you are a supernova, bright and burning and so, so, so ecstatic.

you don’t even know how you came down from that high, but when you wake up, john’s already pulled out and your thighs feel extra sticky. you sniffle, turning to accept the quick kiss he leaves on your cheek. he pulls away and you watch him sink back to the lone chair in your room, and only then do you realize he’s still in his uniform. still in the fatigues.

it makes you extra vulnerable somehow and you twist, trying to find anything to cover yourself with, but your shirt’s been thrown to the floor, far from your reach, and your blankets were kicked off the bed.

you grumble, shyness encroaching again now that there’s no one to monopolize your attention, but a movement from the corner of your eyes makes you jolt. you turn, forcing your eyes to focus, and you blink in surprise because you are sure that kyle wasn’t there before—close to your shelving that is stuffed with little knickknacks and souvenirs brought to you by the boys when they take on separate missions that don’t require your involvement.

the same shelving where you’ve plopped your charging vibrator on. the very same one that is being held up by kyle.

“kyle?” you ask, unable to say any more with how wrecked your voice has become. but the call echoes like a gunshot in the suddenly stifling room, and they all look at you as one. like it didn’t matter if kyle was the one holding the wand because they all knew what they want, and it is to see you be fucked with it.

excitement fills you up despite the throbbing exhaustion settling in your bones, and you wonder if they could scent it with the way the pressure in the room grows heavy, almost bladed—ice shards against still waters.

kyle moves towards you and your eyes track the wand, almost hypnotized by it, and watch as he drops it on the mattress to shuck off his clothes. it is only then do you turn to him, hungry in the way you devour how he moves, how he breathes, how he unbuckles his belt.

his trousers come first, then his shirt. kyle is a catastrophic wonder—seeing him naked like this makes your core throb, aching need stretching in the yawning of your stomach, because he is so beautiful, terrifyingly so.

he reaches for your waist and drags you so you’re laying on your back again, your legs sprawled out on either side of his hips. he looks down at you, his eyes crinkled in his smile. he looks so charming, boyish and youthful, and he makes you thrum with quiet desire because you feel safe even when you’re bare before him.

you feel particularly cherished, like you are the apple of his eye.

“you’ve been so good to us, love,” he murmurs, but in the silence of everyone, his voice bounces off the walls, seeping into where the others are, watching raptly once again.

you nod, not knowing what else to say. kyle chuckles, the sound trickling like quiet chimes, and you wonder if he’s doing this for you—talking to you in whispers to give your body time to come down from the tremors, or filling you up with something other than a cock because johnny had come in scathing, and john had pierced you with something consuming, and kyle—

kyle is trying to distract you.

you’ve forgotten about the toy, sitting there so innocently. it’s out of your reach, tucked preciously close to kyle’s left leg the way he treats all his smaller guns—never straying beyond his person, and hovering close. you’ve once asked him if it wasn’t more comforting to have it on him where he can feel its weight and kyle had looked at you with that soft smile like you’ve uttered something so delightful, before telling you, “there’s a certain pleasure in having it displayed.”

like a promise and an assurance—he will always be faster; the one who is more in control.

and today, kyle is treating the wand with the same vehemence.

you didn’t even know you were already shaking your head until kyle had cupped your cheek, quiet sounds of comfort rumbling from his chest.

“don’t worry,” he says, eyes blazing with a terrifying promise. “all good girls have to be rewarded.”

kyle doesn’t fuck you with his cock right away; instead, he’d bent over and took a nipple into his mouth. it makes you gasp, back arching at every wet suck. there is pleasure to derive, but it is so muted that you begin to settle back into your mattress, waiting, almost in bated breath because kyle has yet to reach for the wand.

you jolt when he finally uses his hands, stomach tensing in anticipation. but still, kyle doesn’t reach for it, and instead he swipes a finger to your slit. your pussy’s still so sensitive so it makes you buck, a sharp animalistic sound tearing from your throat, and kyle takes advantage of the sudden change in the pace.

he slips in two fingers in your cunt, curling to poke at your walls, before fucking them out—he lifts up and sucks your other nipple—and punching them back in. it’s a wet slide, each thwaps ring in your head, and you moan, clawing at kyle’s back because how could he make you feel good just like this?

it’s almost a laughable parallel—just an hour ago, you had been in the same position, with your legs parted open and two fingers fucking in, while your other hand flicks at your nipples because you had so desperately wanted any form of orgasm. god, it didn’t even need to feel ecstatic, just something that’d rip your aching need into quiet tides. and now here you are, spread open with kyle mirroring every flick of his fingers and every pinching sensation on your nipples, and he is making you feel good.

how dare he. how dare he give you unadulterated pleasure with just his fingers? how could you ever go back to masturbating now that he’s even triumphed over your previous failures, showing your body that there are ways to make your toes curl without a cock nor a toy?

how dare he—

“no!” you whine, circling your hand around his wrist when he pulls out. you were so close; its tendrils spreading all over your body in the wake of your encroaching orgasm. you thought you were going to be rewarded? kyle promised. he said so!

“oh, love,” kyle coos, breaking through the swirling turmoil in your head. “i���m not done yet, i promise.”

you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the sob that is lodged in your throat as you watch kyle give his cock a pump before lining it up with your cunt. unlike johnny and john—and the reminder that they’re there, with simon, makes you jolt for a quick second—kyle doesn’t press in slow nor gentle.

no.

kyle punches everything in. you scream, the sound guttural as you are filled so quickly and so deeply, leaving you to feel the sudden crescendo of your pleasure. your body spasmed—because there was nothing else that could explain the sensation of having all your synapses sing with a ripping pleasure—before you black out for a second.

you come to the feeling of kyle’s hand mapping your belly, digging just enough that his fingers dimple your skin. you are still stretched and stuffed, and the remnants of your pleasure fire up again.

he flicks his eyes up to you with a smile. “came so soon f’r me, love.”

your only response is a gurgle. it makes kyle laugh.

“that must mean y’r ready for something else, yeah?”

a confused whimper bubbles from your throat. kyle just snaps his hips in reply, rendering your mind shut again. you hear him shuffling against the sheets, his free hand reaching for something you cannot see, and you feel your mind pressing at its edges, trying to retrieve the memory of what it is he is looking for because you know what it is, you’re sure.

buzzing noises fill your ears, the sound ricocheting around the space, and your body locks, recollection slamming into you. you tear your gaze away from the far wall to look at kyle.

you wonder what your face must’ve looked like because kyle begins to croon.

“i’ve seen this from a homemade porn video.” he shrugs at the incredulous expression on your face. “and i’ve always wanted to try it because sweetheart, they didn’t press it on her clit.”

what—

kyle moves, his body rippling with ease. you don’t notice but the boys crowd in, interest bright in their eyes. only ghost continues to be rooted in his spot, and it is only his head tipping to the side that lets the others know he’s just as interested.

kyle presses the toy on your belly. your nose scrunches in displeasure because it just feels like you’re being massaged incorrectly, but he keeps shifting, hunting, and it’s weird because kyle’s still in you so what—

you gasp, eyes widening at the odd sensation. kyle freezes, his body curling into something predatory, and digs your wand there on your—

“no way,” johnny laughs, and you want to snarl at him to go away but you can’t because he’s right.

no way.

kyle had pressed the vibrating bulb of your toy just below your belly and slightly before your upper pelvic area—kyle had pressed the toy on your womb.

the pleasure is new, uncharted, and it is petrifying because you’ve never felt this way before. you didn’t even know it was possible to stimulate yourself there, but kyle’s already resuming the pace he’d set, fucking his cock in deeply almost like he wants to feel the buzz from within.

you begin to sob but the tears feel different this time. they’re still out of pleasure, but the swirling surprise melts the euphoria into something frightening. you don’t even realize you’ve begun to babble.

“no more!” you hiccup, weak fists thumping against kyle’s chest only to be restrained by john and johnny, each man pushing them down with their own hands.

everything feels too scary, all of a sudden. this pleasure of yours is bigger than you have ever expected and it’s building up too fast and too soon, and still, kyle remains unfazed.

“i’m scared! i’m scared, kyle please!”

your words turn into unintelligible warbles, and kyle just says how you are so adorable like this.

“y’r pussy’s going stir crazy, baby,” he croons amidst your tears and you want to scream at him, to be mad and say something mean, but you feel so utterly lost in the bubbling bliss.

it is something you’ve never felt before; it’s almost like you are relearning your body at this very moment—like kyle is unmaking you, and remodelling you, and you feel this cathartic bloating of your orgasm.

kyle sees the moment you succumbed to the enveloping terror of your euphoria, and it’s like he’s been waiting for this moment because he begins to fuck you faster. deeper. his pelvis meets the plush of your ass with every thrust, while he digs the toy further down your flesh.

how could the vibrations ripple past the fat, you don’t know, but your orgasm is building, peaking—

it breaks with another scream tearing from your lungs. this one is much stronger than the previous ones, and enveloping because it feels like your whole body has shut down in the wake of your release.

your mind splinters, your body falling limp like your strings have been cut loose, and kyle turns forgiving again because he shuts the toy down and throws it away. he pulls out and only then do you feel the trickle of his cum sliding out of you.

he leans in, brushing his nose over your cheek. then, “just one more, little bird.”

kyle slides off the bed, but so do john and johnny, and you hiccup, still sobbing, still floating from the world-shattering climax, when simon greets you.

he is quiet for a while, watching as you catch your breath. you couldn’t even stop yourself from sniffling, tears pooling in the corners of your eyes to stain your already blotchy cheeks. he grunts, hand falling to brush unimaginably soft touches across your body, observing.

waiting.

“was’it?” you finally bite out because you know simon—you know ghost—and there is something that’s sitting on the tip of his tongue that he so desperately wants to spit out.

simon grumbles, rolling his eyes.

you groan, growing impatient. “tell m’.”

but he still doesn’t talk, choosing instead to manhandle your body until it is close to him. you want to tell him to give you a minute; that you’re still so sore and tired, and kyle just fucked you mindless that you need a goddamn break, so, “s’mon, no…”

he grunts, palming along your waist, then your hips, before it stops on the fat of your ass. he grabs a handful.

“won’t you let me fuck this hole instead,” simon finally replies.

your heart lurches to your throat, and you’re not the only one surprised because johnny’s bounding in close, excited, chatting simon’s ear how he wants to go next, “please, LT?”

you want to tell him to ask you, not simon, but simon’s already giving his assent with a huff, chirping how johnny’s so impatient—a master and his dog—before they turn to you again.

it is only then do you realize that simon hadn’t been asking for proper permission; it was all formalities because he was not going to settle for anything that isn’t yes.

anal sex hasn’t been something you are really interested in; no amount of porn and online anecdotes can change your mind, but simon’s gaze is heavy. it’s final.

before you can even reply, john’s already throwing something to simon. he catches it with ease, and only when simon flicks his hand do you recognize it to be the lube you’ve chucked away in your anger when this whole night started. kyle returns with the wand.

you lay there, on simon’s lap, seeing them flanking you for this… corrupting.

“okay,” you muster, trying to stake even a semblance of control.

thankfully, they ignore the shaking of your fists or the way your chest begins to heave in your morbid anticipation. simon laughs, and swoops down to nip your cheek.

“good girl.”

whew whyd it become a long ramble of smut??? it was supposed to be a john n johnny centric fucking bc of the prelude but alas, i needed to write a semblance of dark!kyle so here we are <3

temp taglist bc yall are animals (affectionate)!!!: @getosuguswhore @slut-lmao @mxtokko @imjusthereforkonig @bratzdolly4 @mabelwinters @stars4sar @sergeant-jasper @spiceywawa @j0r-d1e

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday requests

i wouldn't mind more royal consort if you're willing to write it

just sent a request for royal consort as anon

There was panic all around the room, but Danny couldn't focus on anything for too long with all his senses so overwhelmed. He was suspended in the air, power rolling through and over him in busts of electricity. He can feel himself being ripped apart, rearranged, and placed back in the same way he had been when he was fourteen, but this time, the feeling is prolonged.

The portal does so again and again and again until Danny can't tell what he is anymore. Oddly enough, it's relatively peaceful. There had been no ripping pain when his necklace and portal transmitter had connected, but there had been an overwhelming sense of cold.

It was as if Danny had been plunged into iced water, spreading across his body like a tidal wave. Danny would have almost relaxed into the portal's form if it wasn't for the pins and needles that followed each wave.

Maybe it was worse for Jaz, who was fully human when they did this to her, but Danny had Phantom to fall back on. In more ways than one, given the army his future self has summoned and the insane amount of killing intent that Phantom was broadcasting.

If he could pick up on it from within this ball of semi-consciousness, he bet everyone else was likely drowning in Phantom's rage.

The dead knights fling themselves towards the portal with gusto, slamming their swords and bodies against the force field. Each strict flung Danny further from reality, drawing them back into the welcoming void of numbness, only to be ripped back by another cold wave.

"Danny, focus!" Phantom voice boomed. "You have become the key! Close the damn portal!"

Danny blinks slowly, trying to comprehend what the words mean, until a bolt of lightning zaps out of his fingertips, twisting into the outer layer of the portal. It's then he knows the horrible truth.

The world's end is coming, and Danny is the cause of it. The portal makes a strange zapping sound before it starts stabilizing and expanding. The first large ship was passing through, leaning in like a bizarre docking ship.

"Danny!" Phantom yells, more than a bit desperate. His call reminds him of the future and what will come if he doesn't stop the monsters now. He curls his hands, grabbing the power that made him King, and yanks his arms together. His forearms shake from the effort, but he holds on, willing everything to return.

The air goes boom as the portal starts dragging things inwards instead of out, as he commands the thing to call back the aliens. The ships and the few foot soldiers- lizard-looking men- are yanked right out of the air and thrown back into a new white portal.

It takes Danny a moment to realize the animalistic screaming is coming from him as the portal slowly retracts all the energy it has thrown out. He wills the portal's power to retreat into his chest, overflowing his core with energy that spins and whirls in a tornado.

He instinctively curls up, wanting to escape the pain when he feels the cracks take shape in his core. The breaking apart of the center of his soul echoes through his skull, drowning out all other noise.

"No!" Phantom's horrified screech exploded into a ghostly Wail, ripping around the mother ship, attempting to push past. Since Danny yanked the edge inwards, it pushed beside Danny instead of through him. It had turned on its primary thrusters. The rockets burn against the strain of escaping Dany's gravitation pull and force their way through the small gap in the top left of the portal.

On the deck, more lizard-looking poachers are ripped to spreads. Their screams let Danny know Phantom had wanted them to die and die painfully. The Ghostly wail was a sonic attack, but it didn't skin enemies unless Phantom purposely rolled his tongue like that.

In a sense, Phantom had turned his wailing vibrations into whip lashes at a speed that only the Flash or Superman could outrun. The aliens had no chance.

Danny peeks through one pain-filled eye, watching as Phantom's lips curl, even as the poachers are scrambling to collect their dead. He knew that his future self hated these creatures, and they had ruined Earth in two short years, but he had not realized the amount of hate that burned in those glowing green eyes.

Hate enough that when Phantom started throwing glowing punches, the ground shook. The few people the Waynes hadn't been able to evaluate shouted as the King turned off the gravity. Everything started flouting, and Danny could even spot some cars outside lifting into the air.

Phantom didn't seem to notice as his features started melting into something inhuman, sharper, colder, and green glow expanding from his pupils across his entire eyes as punch after punch hit the force field.

A few scouter ships broke away from the portal, but they were quickly swarmed by the flouting undead soldiers who aggressively sliced the smaller vessels with their blades. Danny knew why his future self hated them, not the skeleton soldiers. Maybe they just like to fight.

A loud crack echoes through the room over ghostly wails, blowing wind, screams, and metal clacks. The sound is similar to breaking glass, shattering as Danny's core falls apart.

Danny's back arches as a scream that tears at his vocal cords is ripped from his throat. The portal around them crumbles, closing at the tip of the mother ship, tearing it apart. Just as it vanishes from sight, everyone floating around the Consort can see it slowly burst into flames on the other side.

The portal slams shut just as Phantom's fist shatters the force field. "NO!"

His head feels heavy, much too heavy for his neck, as he flouts up toward the torn-up ceiling. Gravity is still missing as Phantom swims towards him; his features melt back into more human ones as he wraps his arms around him. "You little idiot. Do you have any idea of what you just did?"

"Saved...Jazz," He manages to grunt out, smiling through the pain. Phantom's arms spam around him.

"You didn't just change the future. You rewrote our fate." As if on cue, Clockwork's amulet turns into dust. Phantom's timeline was gone.

He would have also turned to dust were he still in it, but since he was outside the timeline, Phantom would now live in this one as a permanent member.

Phantom's eyes soften. "You saved more than just Jazz. I'll send our armies to kill them off now that I saw which galaxy the rats were hiding in."

Danny's shaky smile wobbles as the numbness in his body starts to retreat. It leaves licks of burning, aching pain, and he whimpers, leaning his head against his counterpart's chest. "It hurts...."

"You shattered your core." Phantom whispers, almost as if he knows the loud noises hurt Danny's head. It thumped in time with his heartbeat, sending little shockwaves of agony through his bones. "We'll have to take you to FrostBite. But I can't take you without knowing who had the portal key. We can't risk them calling the army before our men finish them off. Pandora is leading the charge against them right now."

"Okay....it was the Wayne Butler who had the key. He needs help."

Phantom's arms tighten as furry rippled under his skin. "He's a dead man."

"No." Danny attempts to shake his head, but the motion is too much for his poor shot nerves. He thinks his fingertips are smoking when he curls one hand in Phantom's cape. "He was in the containment unit. An alien took his place. I think it was pretending to be him."

Phantom hums. "That was one of their favorite tactics. I chased them across the cosmos. I saw them collect other aliens on some protected planets, so they resorted to luring people away by using familiar faces."

Danny makes the same sound, half awake. "They stripped him naked. Covered him in triangles."

"Fuck. What color were the tringles?"

"Blue."

"They weren't going to sell him as a pet. They planned on marketing him a breeding bull or an expensive meat plater for aliens that like exotic animals. Likely due to the poor guy's age." Phantom hisses, pushing a floating table away from them. "What happened to the alien that was pretending to be him?"

"Killed him"

"Good job." Phantom pats his back. "Rest now. I'll handle the rest."

"Okay." Danny is releasing the few strands of consciousness when he hears Tim Drake's desperate call from Phantom's left. It's much closer than it should be, considering they were still flouting near where the once grand chandelier had hung.

"Your majesty! Please turn the gravity back on! The surrounding fifty miles radius is in a panic, and people are flouting away!"

Phantom sighs, his cape flaring dramatically as he adjusts Danny to snap his fingers. There are clacks and crashes as gravity yanks everything back to the floor. Phantom doesn't pay them any mind as a new green portal blooms in front of him, the swirling green like a calm lake surface, a welcoming difference to the zapping one of the enemy.

Phantom steps through, ignoring the cries of the humans. The portal closes on Tim's desperate "Please allow us to help the Consort!"

Strange, Thinks the injured Halfa. He shouldn't sound so close anymore. He should be on the ground somewhere.

Danny just knows they will be panicking about him being hurt. Didn't wars start because of similar situations whenever a royal visits a different country? Danny isn't too sure. His mind is fuzzy, and he's only awake because he hasn't been surrounded by darkness yet, but he's flouting near it."

Frostbite jumps to his feet with a slack jaw. He bends in a bow, stumbling around his desk's stacked scrolls and research papers.

"My King!" He cries, his eyes swinging back and forth between the two Dannies. The yeti bows again, a little more hesitant as he mutters, "And my other..... King? What is happening?"

"We need your help," Phantom tells him. "His soul core got shattered. I think he's dying."

Danny whimpers, only half aware of how serious this is. He doesn't want to die. Not like this. Please. Everyone still thinks he's married to himself. He'll forever be remembered as Phantom's Consort instead of all his other talents.

Like making one mean salsa.

Frostbite makes a sad, choking whine, but Phantom doesn't pay it any mind. He presses Danny closer, and the human can feel the vibrations of his voice on his chest as he demands. "Prepare your operation chambers. I'm giving him my core."

"But, My King, that would mean you....."

"I don't care. I didn't return to Earth expecting to live. This is a command from your King. Do it"

Danny fades away into the darkness, unable to protest Phantom's request. He goes limb in the strong arms of his future self, aching for the version of himself that saw his world destroyed and would not be able to see the peace their actions brought.

Frostbite's grim voice echoes in the darkness. "This is another way, my King, but we need a human sacrifice."

"I'll do it." A third, unexpected voice cuts in, and Danny identifies it as Tim Drake before he knows no more.

[bimb0fy]

pure as ice -> luke castellan

ᵖᵃⁱʳⁱⁿᵍˢ; Luke x aphrodite!reader

ʷᵃʳⁿⁱⁿᵍˢ; smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it before you tap it whores), corruption kink, fingering.

ˢᵘᵐᵐᵃʳʸ; you were always an innocent little thing, luke loved that, he truly did, yet the thought of corrupting you always won against the adoration.

ʷᵒʳᵈᶜᵒᵘⁿᵗ; 790 words

ᵐᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡⁱˢᵗ!! | ⁿᵃᵛⁱᵍᵃᵗⁱᵒⁿ!!

-> Luke smirked as he watched you skip along the path, Aphrodite's favorite you were called. She certainly blessed your looks, she certainly favoured you.

Every man, every single one wanted to be with you. Every woman wanted to be you.

You were the purest thing Luke had ever seen.

He felt dirty for picturing your small dainty hands around his cock as he jacked off. Even dirtier when he wished he was in you instead.

He felt attracted to the innocence. He knew it was evil, to ruin something so pretty, so valuable. Yet he didn't care.

He walked to the edges of camp, where you two met during the day. You laid on your stomach, your mini skirt slightly rode up your thigh and it made Luke want you more and more.

You had a pink rose in your hands, smiling at it. Luke set himself down beside you as you smiled, looking up at him with your pretty little eyes looked at him and he couldn't control himself anymore.

Now, you found yourself on the ground, his hands separating your thighs as he looked down at your soaked laced panties, a smirk on his face as your back leaned onto a tree.

"Luke." You muttered as he nodded, looking up at you.

"Sorry baby, I've just been, I've been dreaming for this moment since forever." He laughed as he dove down, licking a strip through your clothed pussy as you let out a moan. "You've never been touched down here right?"

"No." You whispered, biting your lip. You had never even considered masterbating or anything before. That was the first time you felt something, the first time someone touched you, and oh my, you were hooked.

Luke groaned as he changed positions, placing you on top of him, your cunt directly onto his bulge. He thrusted into you once as you let out a groan. "Sorry flowers, I just, fuuck, been waiting for this since the moment I saw you in that pretty dress."

You nodded as you felt him untie the ribbon of your dress, the dress expanding and falling as he stared at your body. You looked better then he had ever imagined.

His mouth latched into your right nipple, his hand playing with your left as you let out a groan. His other hand slid down past your underwear as he lightly grazed your lips.

You let out a moan as you felt him start to rub, unintentionally grinding against him as he groaned.

He pulled out, sliding your panties to the side as he pumped a finger in you. You were a mess, moaning and groaning as you bounced along with him, your tits jumping as he stared at your body.

It was all he ever wanted with you, and he was about to take his sweet time too.

"Luke, I feel something." You moaned as he quickened his pace. The way you clenched around one of his fingers was ecstatic to him.

He pulled out as you let out a cry, unsure of what to feel, the feeling of pressure replaced with hurt.

He spun you around, your stomach on the grass as he pushed your head against the dirt. "It's gonna hurt baby, but trust me, it'll be worth it okay?"

You let out a strained moan as you felt two of his fingers in you. You clutched onto the grass as you heard his groans. You could see his hand fishing for his cock, jacking off as he fingers you.

"Luke, the feelings back." You moaned as he pulled out, licking a strip before spiting in your cunt. You groans as the cold liquid landed onto you.

He raised your legs up, your face held down by his hand as he lined himself with you, he entered you as you let out a loud moan.

He let out a moan as you clenched around him. You were so tight, clipping onto him like a vice. He couldn't control himself as he thrusted into you roughly, causing you to let out moans and whimpers.

"God luke your so big." You muttered as he thrusted faster. He looked down at your pussy as you arched your back, clenching onto him as he watched you give into him.

He watched as the white liquid infect his cock and your thighs. The sight itself sent him over to the edge as he pulled out, emptying the knot onto your back as closed your eyes, taking deep breathes.

"That was fun." You smiled as he set himself beside you. He kissed your forehead, standing up and buttoning his pants as he helped you up.

"C'mon, let's go shower." He whispered in your ear as you giggled.

[ddejavvu]

okay but mei, touchy bestie anakin with no boundaries??

like pls that man just brush against me and i’d become goo on the spot

we've expanded a lot on bff!james with no boundaries but I'd love more on anakin :)

--

It's not uncommon to see pairs of padawans looking as though their brief sparring session has resulted in the destruction of all of their bones. It's so common, in fact, that salles have a cooldown area, separated from the main floor and paved with tile so that the floors produce a chilling effect when exhausted padawans flop down onto them.

It's an odd hour of the evening and classes resume tomorrow, so you and Anakin had the salles to yourselves. You're sprawled out over the tile emitting intermittent groans here and there- perhaps Anakin is brushing up on his Shyriiwook.

When the sun no longer stretches to the door, now receding over the windowsill, you know you'll need to be back in your respective quarters soon to avoid 2 nagging masters lecturing on school nights and proper nighttime conduct which, apparently, does not include sparring.

You nudge your hand against the back of Anakin's own, "Let's go."

Another groan that speaks deeply to the exhaustion inside of you.

You peel yourself off of the tile first, but Anakin's quick to catch your arm, and a flick of his forearm means you're falling back against the floor once more. The angle that he pulls you at, however, lands you more on him.

You fall halfway on top of his chest, and your elbow hits his stomach. He lets out yet another grunt, this time of sharp pain instead of a dull ache, "Oh- kriff."

"Sorry!" You press your palm flat against him to get up, and it hits his chest, rock-hard and damp beneath his sweat-soaked tunic. You try pushing up and off of him but he catches your wrists, weakening your grip and holding you semi-upright above him.

"Easy," He soothes, folding upright himself with a heavy sigh and righting you in the process. He blinks languidly, and one his hands lingers on your own, "I don't think I can walk back to my quarters."

"I can't carry you," You try wriggling your wrist out of his grip, but he tightens his hold and pulls you in to smear his sweaty brow against your shoulder- too close to your chest for your stomach not to twist.

You feel a huff of his breath leak beneath the outer layer of your tunics and he draws back having left a stain on your clothes, eyes narrowed at it in sadistic pride.

"There," He nods once, using a great deal of effort to rise to his feet, "I think you should carry me. I won, after all."

"You always win," You grumble, taking the hand that he offers you and letting him haul you off of the ground, "Besides, I can barely walk myself."

Quite contrary to his beleaguered complaints, he merely rolls his eyes, stepping in front of you and offering you his back, his legs bending partway to lower him into a squat.

You stand frozen, half-indignant at being cut off, and half bewildered by the offer you think he might be making.

And he is making it, though his patience is waning as he urges you forwards with his hands, "Come on! If I keep squatting like this my knees are gonna give out."

You rush to scramble up into his grip, his hands winding around your thighs, fingers squeezing places you weren't aware were integral to your support.

"You're lugging me through the Temple on your back," You point out, but your arms tighten around his shoulders just in case he decides to rescind his offer, "Your knees are gonna give out no matter what."

His jaw tightens as you murmur in his ear- you know it by the way a muscle beneath his cheek jumps. You wonder if he can feel it- if he can sense it when you swallow the little saliva that's pooled in your mouth upon such close contact with Anakin, and he calls his abandoned lightsaber to his hand after that uncharacteristic moment of hesitation with a flick of his fingers.

"Hold this," He orders, stuffing the cold hilt into your hands that are crossed over his chest, dangling there over his broad shoulders. You don't ask why he can't just clip it to his belt- you're too busy focusing on the way that his hand comes back to grip awfully close to your core when he braces it back on your thigh.

Hand warmed by your skin, fingers inches away from your now-aching core, the muscle of his back pressed to your chest, Anakin marches through the halls of the Temple, palming your thighs to readjust your position on his back far too often.

[axeeglitter]

Melorius's shop: Piracy in the blood

Ethan stood on the bustling street corner, peering into the dusty window of a small costume shop he had never noticed before. The worn wooden sign and faded paint suggested the shop had been there for decades, yet it was the first time Ethan had seen it. Desperate to find something unique for Halloween, he decided to step inside.

The moment he crossed the threshold, a bell jingled, and a thick wave of musty air hit him. Inside, the shop was crammed with racks of elaborate costumes. Everything from Victorian attire to knight's armor hung on the walls. The dim lighting gave the place an eerie, antique feel.

At the back of the shop, behind an old wooden counter, stood a man with silver hair and a long beard. His deep-set eyes watched Ethan with a knowing smile, though he said nothing.

Ethan felt a shiver run down his spine, but he brushed it off. He needed a costume, and this shop seemed to have exactly what he was looking for. Approaching the counter, he caught sight of an ornamented portrait painting, covered in dust, hanging on a nearby wall. The portrait looked ancient, almost as though it had been forgotten for centuries and neglected. Ethan was intrigued by it but before his brain could really focus on it, the owner appeared in front of him. “Good morning, sir, how can I help you today?” said Mister Melorius in a kind, peaceful voice.

"Hello, I was wondering if you had any costumes for a Halloween party I’m going to tonight? It’s not really my thing so I don’t really know what to wear, I know that some of my friends go as Super Heroes, other into officer. I simply have no idea what to get that could fit me." Ethan said, his voice wavering slightly.

The shopkeeper’s smile widened, but he didn’t speak. Instead, he went in the storage and came back a couple seconds after holding a box and placed it in front of Ethan. “Trust me son, this is exactly what you need!” No words were exchanged, just a simple gesture for him to take it.

Ethan, feeling a strange mix of curiosity and apprehension, picked up the box. It was surprisingly heavy. He didn’t ask any more questions, simply nodding in thanks before heading to the small dressing room tucked away in the corner of the shop.

The dressing room was cramped, with an old mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. Setting the box down on a rickety chair, Ethan carefully opened it, revealing the contents: black trousers, a white, billowing shirt with a deep V-neck, a thick leather belt, knee-high boots, and a weathered coat. An ancient looking leather harness and a couple of weapons sat neatly on top. “A pirate costume?” he thought out loud. “I mean, it could work, Julia always said she had a thing for Will Turner so maybe wearing this I’ll have a chance to approach her and finally invite for a dinner date.”

Ethan stood there in the cabin holding the clothes between his fingers, there was something undeniably authentic about the outfit. Ethan couldn’t help but feel a strange pull toward it. He removed his own clothes and began to dress, starting with the shirt. The fabric felt soft but heavy against his skin, the deep V exposing more of his chest than he was used to. Next, he pulled on the black trousers, which fit snugly against his legs.

As he tightened the leather belt around his waist, something shifted within him. His breathing grew heavier, his heart pounding in his chest. "What... what the hell?" he muttered, glancing at his reflection.

The moment he slipped into the boots, a sudden surge of heat coursed through his body, like an electric shock radiating from his feet to the top of his head. He staggered, gripping the chair for support. His reflection blurred, the mirror rippling as though it were water.

He gasped, watching in disbelief as his body began to change.

His shoulders started to broaden, muscle bulging under the fabric of the shirt. His chest heaved as it expanded, growing thicker, more defined. Hair sprouted between his pecs, the once-smooth skin now covered in coarse, dark fur. The hair spread quickly, forming a dense mat that stretched down his abdomen and forming a happy trail, stopping just above his groin.

"What’s happening to me?" Ethan’s voice trembled, but it was already deeper, rougher. He tried to pull the shirt off, but his arms wouldn’t obey. His muscles flexed against his will, as though they had a mind of their own. He could feel the power growing in his biceps, his forearms bulging with veins that snaked across his skin like ropes.

A strange anger began bubbling up from deep within him, replacing the fear he initially felt. His usual calm, quiet demeanor was slipping away, replaced by something far more aggressive, primal.

His hands, once soft and delicate, now looked like they belonged to a man who had spent years working under the sun, gripping ropes, handling weapons. The calluses formed almost instantly, thickening his palms, making them rough and unyielding.

"No... no, stop this!" Ethan’s thoughts raced, but his body continued to morph. He watched helplessly as his legs lengthened, growing taller, more imposing. His thighs swelled, pressing against the fabric of the trousers, the muscles there thick and corded. His calves, too, became more defined, the boots now fitting perfectly around his larger frame.

Then, he felt it, a sharp prickling sensation on his face. His jawline, once clean-shaven, began to darken as bristles of hair pushed through his skin. Within seconds, a thick, wild beard sprouted, covering his face. His reflection showed a man he didn’t recognize, a man far older than his 25 years.

The muscles in his face hardened, his boyish features replaced by a rugged, weathered look. His nose seemed to grow more prominent, his cheekbones higher, more angular. His lips twisted into a sneer, a cocky, arrogant grin that didn’t match the terror screaming in his mind.

"No! This isn’t me!" Ethan’s thoughts screamed, but his body didn’t care. His hands reached down on the chair, grabbing the leather harness and securing it around his chest, making sure his heavy muscled hairy pecs were pushed even higher, almost slipping out of his V line shirt. Then he grabbed the weapons before securing them too inside the harness.

He stared at his reflection, feeling the heat rising in his groin. His cock, which had always been average and uncut, now strained against the fabric of his trousers. It grew bigger and thicker with every beat of his heart. Like if his blood was transporting inches and girth with them. Then as he saw his bulge growing heavier and heavier inside his well-used pants, he started to feel a rush of sensations around his cock head. Suddenly he felt an awful pain around his girth as his foreskin disappeared in dust. His cockhead started to rub against his pants again and again. The sensation was growing duller and duller, and soon, it was something his new dick was used to. The sensitivity in his dick head dulled as though it had endured years of rough handling. His groin felt foreign to him, yet powerful. It belonged to this new body, a pirate’s body. Ethan tilted his head back up only to be met with a cocky grin plastered on his face. Suddenly, the tingling sensation started again, this time in his arm pits, legs, and most particularly around his new huge cock. From the corner of his eyes, he could see millions of hair follicles starting to grow, faster and faster, thicker and thicker, curlier and curlier. Ethan wanted to scratch, to get this itch to stop, but the only reaction he could summon from this new foreign body was to scratch his pubes before his hands automatically rise to his nose where his lungs took a deep breath. His brain was assaulted by a new sensation, his potent musk.

The smell hit him hard, an overwhelming musk of sweat, rum, and saltwater. He reeked of the sea; his skin slick with a sheen of sweat that only added to the intense masculinity radiating from him.

"No, please... I’m not this man..." Ethan thought desperately, but the man staring back at him in the mirror was no longer Ethan. He was someone else entirely. He clenched his fists, feeling the raw power in his grip, the authority in his posture. He was no longer the shy, soft-spoken young man who had entered the shop.

A sinister voice echoed in his mind, low and gravelly, as his reflection smirked. "Ye be Captain Blackstorm now, lad. No turnin’ back."

The room around him shimmered and dissolved. Ethan’s heart raced, his mind spinning as he tried to comprehend what was happening. But the harder he tried to hold on to his old life, the faster it slipped away.

Ethan blinked. Darkness swallowed him for a couple of seconds and suddenly, he was no longer in the dressing room.

The creaking of wood, the crashing of waves, and the scent of saltwater overwhelmed his senses. He found himself standing on the deck of a massive pirate ship, the Blackstorm, surrounded by a rough-looking crew of only men going from 20 to 45.

Ethan tried to scream, tried to move, but his body no longer obeyed him. His mouth opened, but the words that came out weren’t his own.

"ALL HANDS ON DECK! RAISE THE BLOODY SAILS, YE SCURVY DOGS!"

His deep voice boomed across the ship, the crew scrambling to follow his orders. His body moved with the confidence and swagger of a man who had been a pirate captain for years, barking commands left and right.

"No! I’m not Captain Blackstorm! I’m Ethan! Stop this!" His mind screamed, but his body didn’t listen. The pirate captain’s cocky grin was plastered on his face as he stood at the helm of the ship, guiding it through the turbulent seas. …………..

As the days passed, Ethan’s soul became trapped inside his own head, a prisoner in a body that was no longer his. He could still think, still feel, but he had no control. Every time Captain Blackstorm laughed, every time he bellowed orders, Ethan was forced to watch, helpless and horrified, wondering if he would ever go back to his college life and see his friends and family again.

His thoughts grew darker, more confused, as Blackstorm’s memories began to replace his own. He couldn’t remember his last name anymore, or what his life had been like before the transformation. The more he tried to hold on to his identity, the more it faded.

Soon, even his name felt foreign. He wasn’t Ethan. He was Captain Blackstorm.

One night, after a particularly brutal raid on a coastal town, Blackstorm stood on the deck of his ship, surveying the spoils. Among the prisoners was a young man, dressed in fine clothes, clearly a young officer from the Spanish Marina. The man was elegant, his sharp features framed by short, curly hair. Blackstorm’s eyes locked onto him.

"Bring ‘im to me," Blackstorm growled, his voice dripping with hunger.

Blackstorm’s eyes locked onto the sailor’s terrified expression, and a predatory grin spread across his face. Ethan, trapped deep inside, recoiled in horror, not knowing what was coming but powerless to stop it.

“Tell me son, what is your name?” “My name is Paulo sir.” Said the young men with fear in his voice. He knew that he wanted a chance to survive, he had to do what this captain wanted. “And tell me, Paulo. What were you doing out there? You look around 22, a bit old to be a cabin boy.” “I was just promoted as an officer, sir. Please don’t hurt me, I’ll do anything. Please.” Paulo broke almost in tears as he remembers the legend of the captain of the Blackstorm.

"Ye look soft, lad," Blackstorm sneered, his breath hot and reeking of rum. "But ye’ll toughen up. I’ll make a proper sailor outta ye."

Ethan’s thoughts screamed in protest, but the words coming from his mouth weren’t his. "No! Stop this! I’m not him!" But the pirate captain’s voice continued to fill the air as if Ethan's consciousness no longer mattered.

Paulo, trembling in Blackstorm's grip, whimpered, "Please, sir, I’m no pirate. I, I’m just an officer."

Blackstorm chuckled darkly, his grip tightening on the young man’s shirt. "For now! Ye’ll learn soon enough, lad. Now get below deck. I’ll see to yer trainin’ myself."

Ethan’s body moved of its own accord, dragging Paulo down to the captain’s quarters, where the room was dimly lit by the soft glow of lanterns. It smelled of sweat, rum, and the salty sea air, Blackstorm’s natural musk now, deeply embedded in the walls and furniture. Ethan wanted to gag at the overwhelming odor, but instead, his body breathed it in like it was the sweetest scent.

Ethan watched helplessly as Blackstorm tossed the young officer onto the bed, his powerful muscles flexing with every movement. The younger man looked terrified, eyes darting to the door as if considering an escape, but Blackstorm was faster. He pinned the young men down, a dark hunger in his eyes.

Paulo struggled beneath him, but Blackstorm’s calloused hands, worn from years at sea, held him firmly in place. "I’ve had my eye on ye since we boarded yer commander’s ship, lad," Blackstorm growled, his voice low and gravelly. "Now, ye belong to me."

"No! I can’t let this happen! This isn’t me!" Ethan’s thoughts were frantic, but the captain’s grin only widened as he leaned closer to the young men, inhaling his scent. The fear radiating off the man seemed to excite Blackstorm, fueling his dominance.

"I’ll make ye a man of the sea, lad," Blackstorm whispered, his hands roaming over the butler’s body, feeling the smooth, uncalloused skin beneath his fingers. "You see, what makes a great captain is not the fear he inspires in his enemies; Noooooo… It’s the respect he inspires in his crew. If you have a crew devoted to you, then nothing is impossible. And I make sure that each and every one of my men are the best versions of themselves. And in exchange, they are devoted to me. Now, you have a great potential, lad, let’s see what’s hidden under the surface. We’ll start with rum, but soon enough, ye’ll learn there’s more to bein’ a pirate than just sailin’."

Ethan screamed internally, but his body reveled in the power and control Blackstorm wielded over Paulo. The pirate captain’s beard brushed against Paulo’s neck, and Ethan could feel the younger man’s pulse quicken in fear.

As Blackstorm grabbed a bottle of rum from the bedside table, uncorking it with his teeth, he forced the officer to drink. "Take it, lad. Ye’ll need this to survive aboard the Blackstorm."

Paulo sputtered, coughing as the harsh liquid burned down his throat, but Blackstorm gave him no respite. He shoved the bottle back into his hands, forcing him to drink more, the warmth of the rum spreading through his body.

With every gulp forced down his throat, Paulo could feel the heat rising in his body. Drops of sweat started to appear on his forehead as his legs started to shake and tense with pression. Soon a crack was heard as his pants started to tear at the seam. The same started to occur on his chest, then his feet. His short brown hair started to grow longer and curlier, his face sharpened a bit, his cock lengthened and lost his foreskin and the sensitivity that goes with it and his body hair started to grow under his pits, and around his cock. Soon Paulo’s body was totally transformed. A perfect specimen of a young manly men devoted to his new life style of pirate.

"Now, lad," he growled, his hands unbuttoning his new crew member’s torn shirt and pants, exposing the smooth, tanned skin beneath. "Let’s see what ye’re made of."

Ethan’s mind fought desperately to regain control, but his body didn’t listen. His hands—Blackstorm’s hands—caressed Paulo’s body with rough, experienced strokes, exploring every inch of his skin. Paulo gasped, his body responding despite himself, a mixture of fear and arousal flashing in his eyes.

Ethan’s thoughts screamed as he realized what his body was about to do. He wasn’t even attracted to men. All he wanted was to get to the party to ask Julia on a date. Ethan could feel his thought getting muted, they were growing weaker, drowned out by the sensations overwhelming his body.

Blackstorm’s cock stirred in his trousers, hardening as he pressed against Paulo’s thigh. The once-shy, soft-spoken Ethan was gone, replaced entirely by the pirate captain who reveled in his dominance, who craved the control he had over his captive.

Paulo, now panting under Blackstorm’s touch, whimpered, "Please... sir… I need … you” Blackstorm silenced him with a rough kiss, his beard scraping against his chin as the pirate’s tongue claimed his mouth.

The taste of rum lingered on the Paulo’s lips, and Blackstorm groaned, his hands gripping the man’s hips tightly as he ground against him. His cock, thick and heavy, strained against the leather of his trousers, begging to be freed.

With a swift motion, Blackstorm yanked down his trousers, exposing his throbbing length. The pirate captain wasted no time, positioning himself between Paulo’s legs, his rough hands forcing them apart.

Ethan’s mind was a swirling storm of panic and confusion, but it was drowned out by the primal lust consuming Blackstorm. His cock brushed against the ass, and with one rough thrust, he entered the younger man, groaning as he buried himself deep inside.

Paulo gasped in pain, his body tensing beneath Blackstorm, but the pirate captain didn’t stop. His thrusts were hard, brutal, and unrelenting, his cock stretching the ass in ways he had never experienced before.

"Take it, lad," Blackstorm growled, his voice thick with lust. "Ye belong to me now."

Ethan, trapped in the pirate’s mind, could only watch in horror as Blackstorm claimed the young men with each powerful thrust. The pirate’s body was drenched in sweat, his muscles flexing as he moved, the scent of musk and sea growing heavier in the small cabin.

Paulo, now whimpering beneath him, began to relax, his body slowly adjusting to the brutal rhythm. His soft cries turned to moans as Blackstorm’s cock filled him over and over again, stretching him until there was nothing but pleasure.

The captain grinned wickedly, leaning down to whisper in his new lover’s ear. "Yer mine now, lad. Ye’ll be beggin’ for more soon enough. Now cum for me, Esteban"

Ethan’s thoughts were fading, his sense of self slipping away with every thrust, every groan of pleasure that escaped his lips. He could feel himself being absorbed into Blackstorm’s mind, his old life nothing but a distant memory. Paulo could feel every thrust going deeper and deeper, he was moaning in pure pleasure not remembering what just happened to his body. As he heard Blackstorm, he felt his body tense. Suddenly, a rush of feelings opened in his brain and he fainted in pure bliss as he started to shoot his cum and his old life. He couldn’t remember where he grew up, what was his work, what was his name. All he could see were Blackstorm, the sea, and the name Esteban flashing in his eyes.

Finally, with one last powerful thrust, Blackstorm came inside Paulo, filling him with his seed and cementing his dominance over his new crew member. The pirate groaned, his body shuddering with release as he collapsed on top of the younger man, his chest heaving with each breath. Ethan screamed one last time as he felt himself being totally assimilated in this new life that was given to him.

For a moment, there was silence. The only sound was the soft creaking of the ship and the distant crash of waves against the hull.

Blackstorm rose from the bed, pulling on his trousers and adjusting his belt. He glanced back at Esteban, who lay panting on the bed, his body trembling from the intensity of their encounter. He went to his personal clothes and grabbed a white shirt, a crimson red sleeveless coat, a black leather trouser and a pair of leather boots before putting them next to Esteban.

" Your name, your life and your future are mine now," Blackstorm growled, his voice dripping with satisfaction. " Get some rest, lad, ye’ll need yer strength for tomorrow’s session."

As he left the cabin, Esteban’s soft, exhausted moans followed him and after a couple of hours, Esteban got up and dressed himself before walking on the deck of the ship as a new men. Blackstorm grinned to himself as he saw his new devoted crew member smiling at him while groping his manhood to adjust it.

Ethan was gone, lost forever in the depths of the pirate’s mind. Only Captain Blackstorm remained, cocky, ruthless, and forever bound to the sea. ............ Mister Melorius was walking back to his counter when he heard a tingling resonating in his left ear. As he turned back, he saw the portrait behind him start to vibrate as the golden plaque under it shone while a new text appeared on it: “Captain Blackstorm, commandant of the Blackstorm. Respected and beloved by his whole crew, adventurer of the seven seas and beyond. 1718” Melorius smiled, knowing Ethan, or Blackstorm, was on for a great adventure and will remain in history as the greatest captain of them all.

______________________________________________________________ Hey guys! Hope you'll enjoy this story created from @tf-vigilante's prompt: "A shy and soft college student enters Mister Melorius's shop looking for a costume. Even though that kind of costume is not like his personnality at all, he is weirdly compelled to ask for a pirate costume. What will happen to him ? How will his Halloween night turn out to be ? Maybe this will be truely life changing…" Hope you guys enjoyed it and as always, feel free to send me asks if you want to pick a costume from Melorius's shop! See you soon!

[seattlesellie]

who do you think likes eating you out from the back the most abby or ellie?

both, but they would go at it very differently. in fact… let me expand <3

cw: slight ass play, strap on sex, oral (r!receiving), cum eating

♡ i think ellie would do it as she fucks you from behind with her strap. when ellie fucks you like that — it’s all slaps and nasty praises. her pace is relentless, almost as if she gets off harder the fastest she goes. her arm lifts itself up in the air and she has that shit eating grin before she lands it on your ass with a burning smack. “owh!” you sob, nearly the sound of a scream or a yelp, voice cracking at the sudden contact. you lose the arch of your back, which makes ellie click her tongue. “hurts?” ellie questions, places her palm in the middle of your back and presses down. you’re unresponsive, sniffing and a wiping away a small tear from your scorching hot cheek. ellie almost cracks, she almost apologizes, but when she hears that goddamn high pitched moan escaping your lips she smirks with cocky satisfaction. “good”

♡ she grows nearly obsessed with the sight of your ass forcefully slamming on the front of her thighs when her cock is buried deep inside of you. “ah shit, goddamn that’s fuckin’…” she wants to say it’s hot, sexy, gonna make her cum inside of you or some other pussydrunk shit, but instead — a low whisper of “damn…” is all she manages to mutter. “pushing back against me, yeah?y’pushing back?” — you only eagerly nod your head in response. ellie chuckles, her thumb caressing and pressing down on your puckered entrance.

♡ it’s all too much and too tempting for her, and the way every single time her silicone strap slips out of your cunt it manages to be covered with more of your honeyed slick, wet, glazed like a fucking doughnut, so she gives in and stops completely. “ellie? why’d you… please don’t stop?” and ellie doesn’t even listen, she didn’t even hear — because before you manage to complete your sentence and keep begging for her, she’s down on her knees with her mouth plastered on your needy cunt. “lemme taste… c’mon… need to fuckin’ taste you babe”

♡ she gives an open mouthed kiss to it, lapping up your juices, and simultaneously stroking her strap from it’s thick base to it’s top just so she gather up your cream and lick her entire hand as well.

when you’re done, breathless, your head laying on her chest, ellie smiles at the ceiling like an absolute awestruck idiot.

“babe, i think i’m like… a drug addict, ‘cuz i could replace my fuckin’ cereal milk with your—“

“oh my GOSH ellie shut up!”

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

♡ abby starts slow, torturously slow. you’re on your back, abby — naturally is between your thighs, softly devouring your sopping slit with her tongue. her caresses are almost too soft, too feather like, but her strong grip on your asscheeks from beneath and her piercing gaze are more than enough to make you squeal and squirm, feeling as if you’re practically in the midst of an earthquake. “abby… abby, oh” you cry out, which simply makes abby smirk against your pussy and squeeze your ass even harder. “let me guess…”, she plants a small kiss right on your clit. she has that ‘know it all’ tone, she’s teasing, drawling out her words. “pretty girl can’t take it? yeah? s’too much?” — she doesn’t even let you fully respond, before her grip on your plush ass tightens even more, and with a soft slap on your thigh she turns you around.

♡ kneading the soft flesh of your ass now, all of your moans are choked up and muffled by the pillow. she kisses both of your asscheeks twice, before squeezing them together and marveling at the sight in front of her. “oh shit…” she murmurs, trailing a soft fingertip from the top of your back, feeling the goosebumps rise the lower she goes, and when she gets right there, right on the seam of your ass, you wince. “oh, no abby i can’t…” you whine, feeling all too aware of yourself as her finger slides between your asscheeks, to your sopping hole and stops right there. she presses on your entrance, moves her finger side to side, an attempt to calm you down or distract you, and then shushes you intently. “shh… don’t be scared, yeah? just let me…” and god is her voice sweet and convincing and docile, you barely even notice both of her hands palming your ass and separating your squishy cheeks. instinctively — you push your ass up and abby laughs. “not so scared now, huh? you gonna let me take care of you, pretty girl?”, and your broken sob of “mhm, abby-uh” signals her that take care of you she will.

♡ when she flattens her tongue against your swollen bud now, from behind — it’s almost as if she’s attempting to bury herself inside of you, wiggling her entire head left and right. “abby… abby… oh gosh…” you whimper, which leads abby to land a ringing slap on your ass with her right palm, and then with her left one, and then with both. she digs her fingernails onto your flesh, and you almost crumble down. your thighs become too shaky and unstable to hold yourself up, and abby, with about five percent of her god-like strength, because she really doesn’t need all that much right now, manages to keep you up by simply the grip of her huge palms on your asscheeks. you push back on her face — and she pushes you back with her hands, until all of your sentences are incoherent, morphing into fucked out babbles of her name.

[iimr3]

reasons why (in my opinion) the try guys hit the nail on the head with forming a subscription service where watcher fumbled:

try guys has already been making TV-caliber content for a while. without a recipe and phoning it in both feel like professional cooking shows, and the fact that they have actual celebrity guests adds to that. their audience is extremely familiar with them having this huge set and a ton of employees working to produce the videos they love. on top of that, they've been around longer. they mention at the beginning of the announcement they've been on YouTube for ten years, & dropout/CH similarly had been around for a while when it's streaming service dropped. try guys just always felt more professional & as a fan you immediately understand why they would need more money

(edit) also, they have formed an emotional connection between the audience and their employees! people love rachel & know how hard she works & want to see her get paid well for that work. not that the watcher team don't deserve that, but their audience is way less emotionally invested in their employees' wellbeings than with the try guys audience & their non-talent team (& I say this as a fan & regular viewer of both channels).

try guys already had experience with paid content that went over really well with their audience. their live shows proved that their audience was willing to pay a decent amount every once in a while for something cool, and they proved that they would actually provide something cool for that money. people pointed out how watcher neglected their patreon; the try guys made very good use of their live shows imo. and as a result, they are able to say "you'll get free tickets to the live shows!" which is a really good perk if you are someone who enjoys those. instead of paying $20 every once in a while for one live show, you can pay 5$ for free live shows and early content and exclusive new content.

plus, they also reveal their expanded cast, which is something all of their fans have been wondering about for over a year. it's not just keith and zach you get to see, but all of these people their audience now loves and is always talking about wanting to join the try guys officially. collectively the try guys announcement feels more positive in multiple senses, both in emotional vibe and in what the audience is getting out of this.

also: no one can say for certain whether or not they decided to keep posting on YT after the watcher debacle, but I'm gonna give them the benefit of the doubt & believe that they always intended to stay on YouTube. it makes sense as a business decision & it's clear they've been working on this for some time (despite what some people seem to think??). tbh I don't think they were trying to be cruel to watcher in their announcement, I think they just saw that shitstorm and understood they needed to make it clear to their audience that they are not making the same mistakes. EDIT: in the most recent trypod, zach confirmed that they have been planning to 1) create a streaming service 2) keep posting content free on YouTube since 2023. so, no, they did not create 2nd Try or decide to stay on YouTube because of Watcher. stop trying to manufacture drama.

also also: they have, especially in the trypod, been very candid about their struggles with the algorithm and appealing to youtube's demands for content. in one episode I remember them talking about how they wanted to reject the "constant expansion" mindset, placing more focus on what their existing audience wants rather than trying to constantly get new people. they have been open about how certain things they want to do are not viable because of monetization issues; smoke show is a recent example of this.

another edit: also in the recent episode of the trypod, Zach says that they reached out to Sam Reich of Dropout for tips on starting a streaming service & things to avoid. we have no way of telling if Watcher did this, but I wouldn't be surprised if that was also key in why they turned out differently.

tl;dr i think it comes down to what was presented (not leaving youtube, new content that wouldn't be allowed on youtube, free live shows, new cast), how it was presented (shorter video, focus on the excitement & positives, show of respect to those who can't afford the price), and the context surrounding it (being older, a reputation for more professional content, having prepared their audience for a big shift, having previously discussed issues with youtube and their content)

[uravitypng]

𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐮𝐛𝐛𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐲-

god your tummy is just so squishy and they want to lay on your stomach to feel your warmth and your plump body underneath them. they just want to lift up your top so that there's skin to skin content while they just place their hand on your tummy because it's the most comfiest place their hand can rest on. they want to take a bite of your stomach rolls, give them a nibble, they just want to mark your tummy up so much. he wants to wrap his arms around your soft tummy and pull your body against his. they lose their train of thought when they think of you wearing tighter clothes that make your tummy more visible and prominent than in your other clothes. if you ever wore a crop top in front of them be ready for them to lose their minds, they'll insist on taking a photo together of the two of you as a reminder about how confident you look dressed up all cute in the crop top but really they just wanted a photo of you wearing it because you look so hot.

— EIJIROU KIRISHIMA, izuku midoriya, keigo tamaki, hizashi yamada, ATSUMU MIYA, shoyo hinata, yu nishinoya, lev haiba, TORU OIKAWA, manjiro 'mikey' sano, yuuji itadori, satoru gojo, MEGURU BACHIRA

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬-

they try to keep their eyes on your face, they swear they do but when they see your thick thighs expand as you sit down they find it hard, they're memorised watching as your thighs increase in size as you get comfortable in your chair. they're the ones who fuck into their fists at nights imagining that they're fucking your soft thighs instead, imagining the jiggle of your plush skin and how your thighs look like they're swallowing his cock. they're the ones at night who hump their pillow, creating friction on their clits, while they dream about riding your soft thigh instead. they watch you stand on your tippy toes trying to reach something on a high shelf, they see your skirt lift up higher and they basically drool as they see your upper thighs, catching a glance of the dimples of your skin and your cellulite before your skirt goes back to normal as you come back down off your tippy toes.

— denki kaminari, mina ashido, rumi usagiyama, IZUKU MIDORIYA, keigo tamaki, issei 'mattsun' matsukawa, TETSURO KUROO, ryunosuke tanaka, hitoka yachi, osamu miya, ken 'draken' ryuguji, takuma ino, satoru gojo, yoichi isagi

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐬-

oh boy your love handles are so multipurpose for them. the need to kneed them after grabbing you by your love handles and keeping you close to their body. they watch as you walk your love handles move along with you, almost hynotisingly. they think about holding your love handles while you're sitting on their lap, imagining stroking your skin delicately and moving you by your love handles up and down on their thigh or their cock, having control on the way you move above them. they're imagining holding so tight they'll leave pretty bruises on your soft pudgy skin so you'll remember who made you feel good as they drag you along their thigh pressing perfectly against your clit, they'll imagine holding your love handles as they move you up and down on their cock while you take it and try your best to not to collapse feeling like a pile of jelly due to the pleasure you're receiving. they imagine about how your love handles would so malleable underneath their hands.

— TOUYA 'DABI' TODOROKI, hitoshi shinso, katsuki bakugou, mei hatsume, shota aizawa, enji todoroki, KEI TSUKISHIMA, keishin ukai, rintarou suna, TAKASHI MITSUYA, maki zenin, kento nanami, rin itoshi, rensuke kunigami

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬-

short legs or long legs either way they're into it. they love the plumpness of them. when you wear raised shoes, even if they've only slightly have a heel or a raise they're drooling over your legs in them and how your legs have a curvy shape while wearing them. when you're not wearing heels or boots they're still going to be drooling over your legs because they just look so squishy and pillowy. they reckon you'd squeal and feel ticklish if they placed delicate kisses underneath on the bottom side of your knee. wrapping your legs around them for any reason? they love it. they imagine when they're in bed having you in a mating press with your legs on their shoulders. they imagine wrapping your legs around their waist if they're strong enough to carry you. they've had to change the bedsheets on more than one occasion because they've had a wet dream or have gotten cum everywhere on the sheets as they picture you wearing knee high socks and matching canvas shoes.

— tenya iida, OCHAKO URARAKA, momo yaoyorozu, mirio togata, kotaro bokuto, wakatoshi ushijima, hajime 'iwa' iwaizumi, TADASHI YAMAGUCHI, kiyoko shimizu, kazutora hanemiya, hakkai shiba, shoko ieiri, anri teieri, toge inumaki, reo mikage

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬/𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬-

the squish, the softness, the stretch marks, the flabbiness, sign them up. they love everything about your arms and hands. they're the ones who love when you wear short sleeves they see your stretch marks that decorate your arms and it's just so beautiful. when you grab hold of them by their wrist or you hold hands they think about how soft your hands feel, your chunky fingers grabbing on tightly to them, bringing you both comfort. they love it when you carry anything under your upper arms, they're not really sure why but it just gets them going. they cherish when you stroke their hair, they get to feel your chubby fingers make patterns on their head and they could easily fall asleep. they love hotter days when you wear summer dresses with spaghetti straps that slightly dig into your skin.

— tsuyu 'tsu' asui, shoto todoroki, TAMAKI AMAJIKI, jin bubaigawara, kyouka jirou, shinsuke kita, kenma kozume, kenji akaashi, osamu miya, CHIFUYU MATSUNO, kasumi miwa, OKKOTSU YUUTA, hyoma chigiri

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭-

they're not perverts, they're not! they swear it! ...but they spend the majority of their time thinking about your chest or looking at it. they can't help it, no matter what you're wearing they always look so good and pliable, it's not their fault if your tits look squeezable. they love when you wear those push up bras on night outs, especially when you wear low cut tops with it. their favourite is when you're not wearing a bra at all though, they love knowing that you're comfortable enough around them to prefer comfort over style when you're alone together hanging out. sometimes they feel the need to look away bashfully when they spot that your nipples are visible. they love when your breasts swing low and move freely in the long comfy tops you wear, it makes them imagine the feel of them in their hands, how soft and heavy they are. they've heard before that bigger chests typically have sensitivity, they want to test that so bad.

— HANTA SERO, denki kaminari, neito monoma, natsuo todoroki, TAKAHIRO 'MAKKI' HANAMAKI, satori tendou, saeko tanaka, takemichi hanagaki, geto suguru, megumi fushiguro, meguru bachira, SEISHIRO NAGI

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐬𝐬-

they're the human embodiment "i hate to see her leave but i love to watch her walk away." they can't decide if they prefer it when you wear short skirts, mini skirts, short dresses, pencil skirts, or leggings, your ass looks so good in all of them. they love the way your leggings and pencil skirts cling to your body and they love the short skirts and dresses that show more of your ass when you bend down or dance and sway, if they look close enough they can spot your underwear while you spin around and dance. they love the jiggle of your ass and they imagine late at night the loud slapping noises that would happen when their hips make contact with your ass while they thrust into you. doggy style and spanking are two things that make them go wild with the wobble of your curvaceous ass bouncing in time with their movements.

— tomura shigaraki, eijirou kirishima, touya 'dabi' todoroki, KATSUKI BAKUGOU, daichi sawamura, tobio kageyama, sakusa kiyoomi, takashi mitsuya, AOI TODO, YUUJI ITADORI, shoei barou, jinpachi ego

(my hero academia, haikyuu, tokyo revengers, jujutsu kaisen, blue lock)

not all chubby people have bigger breasts, obviously, but the last line on the chest section suggests that it's about someone that does

[spork-supremacy]

probably not that unpopular of an opinion, but I really believe that the love triange in season 3 could have worked if it had something to say about the characters and had proper care and attention put into it. Like it could've actually been somewhat beneficial to getting to know them.

Cole probably wouldn't really have needed much in terms of character study, considering it feels like he was more a victim to an impending break up. Honestly I would be fine if his entire thing was just about him being petty towards Jay because it woud be mostly justified considering Jay immediately puts the blame on him for Nya's change of heart. However, it could also focus on someone wanting Cole for himself, no matter who it was that took interest because, hear me out, while his Dad did love him, he never felt he could really be loved for himself growing up (especially after his mother's death) Because he was always hiding who he was and what he wanted. And now someone has taken an interest in him and who is he to pass up on the feeling of being truely accepted?

For Nya it could touch on her wanting to try new things as she finds her identity, even if that means wanting to try being with different people. Maybe instead of just blindly following the machine it could help her realise that she should consider other options. She is the type of person that needs to be absolutely sure she is making the right descision when it comes to who she wants to be with for life, so in order to do so she needs to branch out beyond the first boy she dated. Then she is no longer the bitch, or the helpless fool that came between a good friendship for no reason other than a machine said so. Instead just a girl trying to figure out if her current relationship was right for her in the first place. Sure Jay made her laugh, but there has to be more to a good partner than that, and how can she grow if she doesn't learn outside of what she knew?

Jay would definetly go into his boundary issues when he was in a relationship probably with some proper build up to better justify Nya wantig a break from him, the extreme jealousy that he displays to an unhealthily over the top degree, the insecurities and probably abandoment issues that I don't know the origin of...

wait, I feel like this one has been done already, just in a not so great way...

*scratches head* I can't seem to quite put my finger on it...

Hehe... all jokes aside...

For the love of all that is sacred someone please direct me towards something someone else has doen that does a deep dive into Jay's unhealthiness in relationships despite how much he really just wants to do it right.

Also by all means though, if anyone wants my own very long "Jay when he's in a relationship." analysis and properly expand on the points I made here...

[zahri-melitor]

What can you infer about the editorial meddling Young Justice went through?

Oh god. It’s like the old quote about pornography: you know it when you see it. Spend enough time reading comics and you can just tell.

Notable problems with the Young Justice 2019 run that smack of interference:

You can really tell there was external pressure to include Steph in the run and that she was not originally intended to join the team or appear any further than occasional cameos such as the flashbacks at the Hall of Justice as a link to Tim’s final scene in Tynion’s Tec run. Structurally her story makes no sense whatsoever for how to put a plot together. Steph’s not an original Young Justice character, the run already was supporting two new female characters plus a reboot of Amethyst introducing Amy to a new generation, even before we look at the crossovers from other titles in the imprint. The fact they ended up throwing in a single issue entirely about 'what Steph has been up to and her fight against Cluemaster' in the last section of the run makes it even worse, as that was valuable page time wasted pandering that could and should have been used to give Jinny Hex or Keli Quintela more development.

The entire ‘Drake’ situation, which for a costume change had very little build up, was under-designed, and then disappeared with Tim back in the Robin costume between two panels. It was a test balloon from someone that was comprehensively shot down by some mix of the fandom and editorial, and I remain convinced that DC is gunshy about a new costume and identity for Tim all the way up to the present day because of how badly it was handled.

It was being used as the anchor for Wonder Comics, leading to the required mega crossover (that also spilled over into Bendis’ Action Comics to give it some more space), putting even more pressure on the title to be telling a big crossover story when it was still trying to re-establish “your favourites are back” and suggesting potentially expanding the Young Justice lineup out to around thirteen characters, a massively oversized team that the title was not set up to handle.

Lost in the Multiverse was where the story started to get bogged down by being pulled in too many directions by expectations.

It’s also super telling that the last third of the book got turned over to essentially doing one-shot character pieces about the Core Four, the last defence of a run that can see cancellation coming and doesn’t feel confident launching a new story arc they don’t expect to get to finish. Some of this stuff was clearly background character work they would have preferred to have dripped out over a longer run.

Also I know I’m repeating myself, but having the Tim piece focus on Steph mostly, in the frame of Tim and Steph’s relationship? That’s not where I’d be spending my time when looking at Tim Drake in the focus of Young Justice. How he’s coping with his returned memories of having two or three different lives now? Thinking about what ‘Tell Conner you’re sorry’ means? Discussion about his feelings in terms of moving on from being Robin or not? Nah let’s talk about Steph's problems with her dad instead. That’s not a natural fit compared to what everyone else got and does not follow from any of the preceding story.

Still ropeable that the whole set of storylines about regained memories and alternate timelines doesn’t get to intersect with Lois Lane (which spoilers but also is committed to storytelling about ‘people have memories of other places bleeding through’ prior to the full Infinite Frontier retcon) or explore how those memories change things for Tim, Bart or Cassie (Kon at least does get a story about reconnecting in Action).

And that’s just off the top of my head, ignoring any of the more subtle signs.

I love Young Justice 2019. It is a run that adores Bart, Kon, Cassie and Tim (and particularly Bart. I cannot explain to you how much this story adores Bart if you’ve never read it) and the opening 6 issues make me feel warm and fuzzy every time I read them in terms of how cleverly it works to explain how we get everything back. There are clever subtle moments in the text that give a lot more depth to the story that are implied rather than spelled out: how Cassie suddenly remembers Bart when Bart comes near her, suggesting that her returned memories are a Speed Force side effect from being a lightning rod to Bart; Cassie and Tim sense Kon using TTK and recognise it as familiar, something the new characters cannot; the fakeout in the art where when Tim’s memories are restored, he sees Cissie in his memories, but unless you know the exact YJ98 page being referenced you’d think it was Steph; etc.

But gosh it would have been so much better if it had not been required to devote so much page time to crossovers and to pandering to fans, among other elements.

[bonefall]

instead of asking what parts of wind you’ll be getting rid of, i’ll instead ask what parts you’re keeping. the list is shorter then haha

FROSTPAW AND WHISTLEPAW.

Best part of Wind is the bond between these two, in fact, the entire plot about WindClan felt like it dropped out of the alternate universe where the books are good. The sudden dream of catastrophe, the way StarClan gave Frostpaw this sign on purpose to make them know she's legitimate, Whistlepaw injuring herself to try and save her little sister... Even the little details, like Nightcloud and Hootwhisker trying to drag the tree by the trunk, were neat to see.

I Dont Rewrite Arcs Until They Are Done BUT I do know that I'm going to elevate and expand what's going on with Frost and Whistle. They're fantastic.

Another small thing I'm actually planning on keeping is this exchange between Squilf and Jayfeather, which you'll probably find surprising since I'm so open about how much I dislike the way they've made Squilfstar less proactive;

In a better book, I think this could have been a GREAT moment.

What I dislike about this exchange is that Squilf is able to rebuke it, because the writers DO feel that Bramblestar was a good leader. They're trying to show that Squilfstar is going to act more "mature" (read: boring) with her role now, probably to make a point about how Bramblestar wasn't being "indecisive" for the 10 years we were stuck with him but "responsible." Basically, she gets the power and finds out it isn't so easy-- I'll even bet at some point in the next arc or two she'll become frustrated by someone acting the way she used to.

I've seen some people praising this, and like, it's not illegal to have bad taste. But I think this is an AWFUL thing to do with a character who could have finally caused interesting things to happen, on top of just feeling like contempt of criticism on behalf of the writers.

"Ohhhh they thought she would be more decisive than our beloved baby boy, WELL, WE'LL SHOW THEM. You will sit through 10 paragraphs of debate no matter WHO is in charge!!!"

But like I said....... in a better book, this could have been great. If this was a wake-up call for her.

Suddenly experiencing the full weight of responsibility upon herself, she stops making bold decisions. The complicated political situation in front of her, individual opinions of her Clan around her, and the wounded glares of the furious Brambleclaw below her are all acting like briar vines, pulling her down.

Even StarClan itself seems to have placed a weight on her, cats who she's followed faithfully and been punished by.

So Jayfeather, with all of the changes he has in BB, brawling with angels, speaking defiance to the stars, and pulling spirits down from the heavens, is the perfect cat to be honest with her.

I'm still trying to find a good way to describe the electricity between them in this moment. BB!Jayfeather once reached up his paw through the veil between life and death to grab her ankle and fetch her from her own trial, knowing that she wanted to keep living. He's part of whatever motion she took to remove Bramblestar from power. Her son, her cleric, her ally. How do I put these emotions into words?

"Did you come this far just to become someone else?"

Just... what a moment it could be. For this to be the second that Squilfstar realizes in spite of everything, Bramblestar's thorns still jab at her. That she has to move forward, DAMN the uncertainty, by being herself.

[novlr]

Is it bad that I can't think of descriptive words and phrases at the top of my head when I'm writing? I've always heard that the first draft isn't necessarily the best and you can go back later to fix it but I always feel bad when I can't think of better adjectives/adverbs/etc to use right away.

As creative writers, we are all enticed by the allure of rich vocabulary and fancy language. The prospect of constructing a sentence that shimmers with complex and sophisticated words is nothing short of enchanting. However, when it comes to effective communication, clarity is more important than the vocabulary you use, especially for your first draft.

Why vocabulary is important (and when it isn’t)

From an early age we’re told to improve our vocabularies to make our writing more interesting. And advice like “show, don’t tell” feeds into this. While descriptive writing is great, and I do recommend improving your vocabulary in ways that serve your craft, many writers make the mistake of using unnecessary adjectives because they think it will make their writing better. This simply isn’t the case. It can lead you to use words that aren’t well-known or too complex for the average reader. There exists a pressure to impress with language, but writers must beware of sacrificing understanding for the illusion sophistication. It’s always better to be clear than fancy.

The pitfalls of overcomplicated language

The risk of alienating readers is real. Many might not comprehend convoluted sentences, causing them to lose interest. If you can’t immediately think of an alternative adjective or description, then it likely wouldn’t have come to your readers either. Overcomplicated language can also lead to miscommunication and misunderstanding, which defeats the purpose of storytelling. The distraction of convoluted prose can lead readers away from the plot and the message that you are trying to convey. It’s how you end up with messy descriptions like “sapphire orbs” instead of just saying “blue eyes” which is both clearer and better to read.

Clarity is the essence of creative writing

The primary goal of creative writing is storytelling and connection. It aims to elicit emotions and transport readers to another world. Balancing language and storytelling is crucial in order to achieve this. While rich language can enhance the story, it should not become the story itself. Simplicity in language is often better at conveying complex ideas, ensuring that the message gets across most effectively. If your story is good, it will stand on its own, regardless of how extensive your vocabulary is.

The power of clarity

Clarity in creative writing means expressing ideas in a simple, concise, and coherent manner. It enhances reader engagement, as readers can focus on the plot and characters rather than struggling to understand the language. Vivid and concise descriptions contribute to clear writing, as they bring the story to life without any unnecessary complexity. A description can still be vivid without being complex. All you really want your language to do is effectively portray context.

Balancing vocabulary and clarity

There’s certainly a place for a rich vocabulary in creative writing, to paint vivid pictures and evoke strong emotions. The key is to use the right word at the right time, and not to shoehorn in complex words for the sake of it. For your first draft, you should always focus on telling a good story, and not worry too much about the details of vocabulary. And while you do that, use techniques to expand your vocabulary like those outlined in this post, to help improve your language skills and achieve the right balance between clarity and complexity!

[itsclydebitches]

I need more time to put my thoughts in order about tonight's episode, but my initial reaction is that I'm surprised by others' disappointment? I mean, I'm actually not that surprised because coming out stories are intensely personal with viewers all looking for/needing vastly different things from their media, but it just feels like a lot of what (I thought) Ted Lasso was trying to do has gotten lost under specific expectations.

Ted goes off on a long, ridiculous, borderline disgusting story at the worst possible moment? Yes, that's the point. For all my fun TedTrent theories, Ted is (currently) serving the role of the well-meaning, but often ignorant straight man. His function is to both provide the insight and warmth that he's known for - "Actually it does matter to us" - while simultaneously showing how this intensely heteronormative culture would react to a player coming out. AKA messily. If we got a perfect scenario where everyone was accepting and said exactly the right thing, that would undermine the problems the show is trying to acknowledge in the first place. The focus on Isaac's complicated anger and Ted's foot-in-mouth syndrome is just as important to this whole scenario as the club's overall acceptance and the fact that Ted immediately realizes that he fucked up: "I regret that." Ted Lasso is a feel-good comedy, so it's all couched in over-the-top humor, but I thought that was an important acknowledgement: your allies - straight or not, out or not - are likely going to react in cringe-worthy, imperfect ways and the important takeaway there is not that they're irredeemable people who don't love you, but that they're trying and you should gently correct them (as Colin does) and allow them to grow (as Ted does). Despite being an absurd fiction, Ted Lasso is working to write about this in a semi-realistic sense. Instead of a Perfect Coming Out Moment that makes all the queer fans (myself included!) squeal at how ~wonderful~ our beloved cast is for being oh so perfect, we get that realistic awkwardness, misplaced anger, and regret.

We cut away from Colin coming out? Yes, because he's already come out to us. I understand why fans would be disappointed in that, but I don't think it's fair to characterize the show as not allowing Colin to come out at all. That was the entirety of "Sunflowers." Rather than trying to fit Colin's big moment into a locker room halftime, the writers crafted a whole episode where he could grapple with that fear of being outed, be reassured, have a heart-to-heart with Trent, sit together on the monument, go out later in celebration... Ted Lasso made space for all that and, understandably to my mind, didn't want to rehash many of those same beats three episodes later, especially not when we need time to work through the intersection of Colin's story with everyone else. (Because despite this being a queer story-line about a queer man, the show is about the team. Colin's conflict was always going to expand into the rest of the cast.) No, we don't get to see Colin come out specifically to the others, but we did see him come out - both narratively by kissing a man and to Trent - and we see the team's reaction immediately after the fact. Making space for Issac didn't feel like it was cheating Colin to me, or focusing too much on the straight characters, because Colin's story has been a season in the making (plus some details earlier on). To say nothing of the fact that his hesitance about coming out is specifically because he fears the team's reaction... so why wouldn't we grapple with Isaac's negative reaction? We already know Colin's worries, we know what he wants, we see him seeking advice from Trent, we see him reaching out to Issac, we see that failing, and after all that his queer story-line is functionally at a stand-still until something else gives. Issac's explosion is what finally tips the scales.

Idk I don't think I'm explaining this very well because it's late and I only just watched, but I'm of the opinion that Ted Lasso did a lot of work in previous episodes so that they'd have space in this episode to do different work, which is smart. From a narrative perspective, Ted doesn't need to be the perfect ally because Colin already has a supportive queer mentor. "La Locker Room Aux Folles" doesn't need to try to balance Colin's emotional coming out with Isaac's internalized homophobia because "Sunflowers" already gave the audience so, so much, allowing the writers to both keep things on screen for our benefit and then later cut away for the sake of time. As said, stories like these are always going to be a hit-or-miss depending on what each individual fan wants and needs, but I think it's worth keeping in mind that Colin's story is not this single episode; it's all of them combined. Has Ted Lasso really not treated his journey respectfully... or did it just not try to check every queer story-line box in a single episode?

[nondelphic]

Hiiii! May I ask for some advice? After a really long time of not writing fan fic, I recently started getting back into it but have been struggling… So I started using a little bit of the chat.ai help me but I feel icky about it but at the same time, I’m constantly struggling with writers block and being burnt out… What should I do?

i'm actually really glad you asked this because i've been preparing a post about using ai responsibly for writing, might just post it here lol:

tldr: this post isn’t about using ai to generate your story for you. it’s about how to utilize ai to enhance your writing process while still keeping your voice and creativity at the forefront.

the rise of ai has stirred up a lot of talk about ethics, originality, and how much tech should really be in our creative space. as writers, our work is highly personal, it's a reflection of our thoughts and experiences. so it’s totally normal to feel icky about bringing ai into the mix.

here's a hot take, though: ai isn’t here to replace your creativity. it doesn’t get the deep, emotional layers that only a human writer can bring. sure, ai can generate text, but it doesn’t really understand what it’s saying. that’s where some of the ethical concerns come in—if we rely too much on ai, we risk losing that personal touch that makes our stories resonate.

on the flip side, when used thoughtfully, ai can actually boost your creative process instead of taking away from it. think of ai as a helpful assistant, it can take care of some of the boring, tedious stuff, giving you more space to focus on what really matters: writing your story, your way. it’s not about letting ai take over, but using it to support and streamline your process.

this is not a post about my experience with ai, but i have to say, that as someone with adhd, ai has been a game-changer for me. it helps me keep track of my ideas, organize my thoughts, and even manage my writing schedule when my brain is all over the place. it's like having an extra set of hands (or, you know, a brain) to help me stay on top of everything, so i can focus more on the actual creative part of writing.

the key is to make sure ai never overshadows your original voice or creative vision. ai should be a tool that helps you bring your ideas to life, not something that writes the story for you. if you’re curious about how to use ai in your writing process while keeping your authenticity intact, here are some tips to do it responsibly:

brainstorming ideas: when you’re stuck on a plot point or character development, use ai to generate prompts or ideas. these can spark new directions for your story, giving you fresh perspectives to explore.

dialogue experimentation: if your dialogue feels flat, try using ai to generate conversation snippets based on your characters. it might not be perfect, but it can give you new ideas for how your characters might interact.

synonym suggestions: tired of using the same word over and over? ai can help you find synonyms or alternative phrases, keeping your writing fresh without losing your voice. i've found this very helpful as an ESL writer!

outline generation: got a rough idea but need a structure? use ai to create a basic outline, then tweak it to fit your vision. it’s a great way to get a head start on organizing your story.

character backstories: use ai to brainstorm character traits, backstories, or names. you can take these ideas and expand on them, adding the depth and personality that only you can create.

quick research assistance: save time by using ai for quick facts or historical details. it lets you focus more on storytelling and less on getting bogged down in research. (disclaimer: never 100% trust what an ai generates, fact check everything). i've found it a great starting point if i have a very niche question for my research.

editing help: use ai for basic grammar and spelling checks to speed up your editing process. just remember, it’s your judgment that will shape the final draft, not the ai’s.

plot analysis: use ai to scan your draft for plot holes or inconsistencies. it can help identify gaps in logic or missing links in your storyline, giving you a clearer idea of where to tighten things up.

tone consistency: ai can help you maintain a consistent tone throughout your story by analyzing your draft and suggesting adjustments where the tone shifts unexpectedly.

pacing adjustments: ai can review the pacing of your story, highlighting sections that may be too slow or too rushed, helping you find the right balance.

character consistency: track your characters' traits, behaviors, and dialogue to ensure they remain consistent throughout the story, preventing out-of-character moments.

theme reinforcement: use ai to analyze how well your themes are being conveyed across the narrative, suggesting areas where you might strengthen or clarify your message.

draft comparison: if you’ve gone through multiple drafts, ai can compare them to highlight what’s changed, what’s been improved, and what might have been lost in the revisions.

to answer your question more personally, i think we can never please everyone, and ai will continue to be developed and get better and better. i understand feeling icky about using ai, and you might get judged for it, but do what you need to do, tbh.

i have found myself in a writing routine where i use most of the advice above in my writing process. i write most of my work myself, but i use ai as a tool to bounce ideas off of, and it's been a life changer. i managed to finish my first novel draft with the help of ai, and it fuelled my creativity to have "someone" (or rather something) to feed my ideas and help them identify what i could do better.

[kai-malewife]

A Lazy Saturday Morning

Alhaitham x gender neutral!reader

Summary: There is no better place to wake up than in his arms. Shrouded in his scent, intoxicated by his warmth, nothing feels more like home than your lover, Alhaitham.

Warnings: None, just sickingly sweet morning fluff with our favorite scribe <3

Cross-Posted on Ao3 @ Zhonglis_cake_saves_lifes

Link here!

Not too proud of this fic, might edit it later!

It is to the sound of lively twittering that you rouse from your peaceful slumber, stirred to consciousness by the carefree melody of the early morning birds. The sun had already risen, as warm, golden rays filter through the blinds, casting streaks of light across the room and onto your lover. 

Alhaitham, sprawled out next to you on the bed, winces faintly in response to the fierce gleam prompting him to awake in turn. His hold on your waist tightens and he buries his nose in your neck, breathing in your scent in a feeble attempt to cling onto any last remnants of sleep.

‘’Mornin’.’’ Your hand glides through his silver locks, voice permeated with drowsiness.

It elicits a mellow hum from him, and before long, quiet snores fill the room once more, calm and steady.

You simply cannot resist marveling at the serene expression on his countenance; his typically puckered brows now relaxed, mouth slightly ajar, and porcelain skin tinted in the enchanting morning glow. 

The hand which was previously stroking his hair leisurely trails down, its thumb and forefinger now delicately tracing the curve of his face, flesh smooth beneath deft fingertips. The vision bearer quivers briefly at the touch, nevertheless he does not withdraw from it.

For such a prominent figure in the Akademiya, Alhaitham was by no means a morning person. On the surface, one might expect him to be an early riser, up by the first glimmer of dawn to make the most out of his day, given that he valued his precious time above all else. Truth be told, however, reality was otherwise. 

All those lazy mornings spent in one another's embrace spoke for themselves; laced with loving pecks pressed on your temple and tender, lingering caresses that never failed to set your skin ablaze, occasionally resulting in either of you almost turning up late for work. 

Minutes pass with the Scribe snuggled up to you, chest expanding and contracting against your own at a regular pace. But who can blame him? It's Saturday morning, and there's nothing scheduled for the day.

While you wish to loll in the comfort of his muscular arms for a little longer, surely any sign of fatigue has already worn off, and merely lying here, wide awake, was growing rather irksome. Instead, you opt to roll out of bed and get started on breakfast, hoping to greet your beloved with a cup of steaming hot coffee once he awakens.

You struggle to extricate yourself as silently as humanly possible from the iron grasp enclosing you, eventually succeeding only after strenuous exertion. Yet, much to your surprise, no sooner do you set foot on the floor than something pulls you back onto the cushy mattress.

‘’Mm… Don’t go…’’  Alhaitham splays out on top of you, allowing his weight to press against your body, effectively restricting your movements as he grumbles in the shell of your ear, still half asleep.

This scenario was hardly foreign to you, having occurred countless times in the past. A wry smile tugs at your lips as you find yourself engulfed in the warmth of your partner.

‘’Haitham baby, you’re heavy.’’

‘’I know.’’

It earns him a meek jab on the shoulder, which in turn draws an amused chuckle from him, one that you feel reverberating in his chest along with yours. You heave a defeated sigh, like you always do, and yield to your fate; ensnared in his affectionate grip until he finally decrees that It’s time for his daily caffeine fix.

‘’You’re unbelievable.’’

‘’Love you too, honey.’’

And perhaps this is not so bad after all. 

Azur irises lock onto yours as you plant a final, chaste kiss on his forehead. And so, lulled by the soothing rhythm of his heartbeat, an unexpected weariness resurfaces, gradually carrying you back to the land of dreams together with the one you love…