#it was ALL character work bitch! it was all drawn characters! the only ones that weren't were the animations using rigs+shapes

[triglycercule]

horror's about to get his shit rocked i guess but its ok he got to say a cool line. anyways i had this silly little idea :3 horror deserves to be the one inflicting pain onto killer sometimes anyways it can't ALWAYS be killer being sadistic 😒😒😒

[radioisntdead]

I have an idea.

Mom susan and daughter are reader

How about the reader tries to introduce her husband to her mother??

Good evening my dear! I wanted to see a Susan and Alastor in-law showdown and I wrote a drabble and then some headcanons, so I hope you don't mind, but if you do just let me know and I can replace Alastor with another requested character or an oc or something,

The mother in-law

Susan & daughter reader, Alastor x female reader

Warnings!!

Cannibalism, violent elderly, implied Violence AGAINST the elderly in the headcanons mostly, Susan invading boundaries, Alastor gets insulted by Susan, Reader needs a drink, poorly drawn Cat Alastor in a suit, OOC characters, not proofread, does anyone know a replacement for Grammerly??

Alastor made the most of falling to eternal damnation, seeing it as a new opportunity,

He become an overlord, a cannibal, the feared Radio demon,

It was shocking enough to him that he had met you, and while it did take awhile and a long long friendship he did end up realizing he had feelings for you, a sweetheart of a cannibal, who worked with his dear friend Rosie and asked to court you in the gentlemenly way, with a bouquet of seven roses and a kiss on your hand, He was the happiest lil' deer in all of hell.

He'd take you dancing, you'd do something like reading or taking a nap as he did his radio broadcast, the two of you would go on walks,

It was bliss

Unfortunately or fortunately depending how you look at it, Alastor disappeared for seven years taking you with him, much to the distain of your mother.

During the time away you were wed, it was a small ceremony, only the two of you and the fucked up cat thing that looked strikingly like Alastor you adopted as your witness.

Anyways with the sudden seven year disappearance and marriage, he never got to formally meet his mother in law that you've told him so much about,

So once everything was settled and you got to visit your dear mama a couple of times, you decided to finally introduce them,

Unfortunately they already knew each other.

Oh no.

Alastor wore his best suit, he even put that evil radio cat into a suit, you wore a lovely dress that matched the aesthetics of cannibal town [Or an exact copy of Alastor's regular suit if you wanna give Susan a heart attack]

He walked arm in arm with you to the cannibal town home your mother lived in, and from the moment the door was opened there was only one thought on his mind.

Oh shit it was Susan, you were the daughter of the Ornery old bitch,

How was someone like YOU related to SUSAN??

Were you adopted? You had to be, he refused to believe that old lady had spawned you in any type of way, maybe she picked you up off the street?

Susan grabbed your hand pulling you in and looking over you, not bothering to greet the radio demon beside you,

"Where have you been I thought you died, Why are you with the guy with the shitty haircut that looks like someone went at him with a fucking hedge trimmer"

"Mama I visited you last week,"

Susan questioned immediately as you laughed nervously, barely two seconds in and she had already insulted Alastor,

you look over to Alastor who stood awkwardly in the door way, waiting to be invited in, the cursed cat in a suit standing by him also waiting to be invited in.

"And apparently you already know my Alasto-"

you were cut off swiftly by Susan squinting at Alastor

"You married the fucking embodiment of red-40?"

Alastor blinked, "Excuse me?"

"You're excused." Susan moved to shut the door in Alastor's face but was stopped by you stopping her

"Ma, please, Alastor come on in"

You said gesturing for your husband and the thing to enter, Susan scoffed mumbling about something as she turned around and sped into the kitchen.

Alastor leaned into you, hooking his arm with yours as the messed up cat clone moved around immediately crawling upon Susan's rocking chair.

"My dear it's not too late to leave and dine elsewhere''

"Alastor please, It's just one dinner with my Ma''

"Who's an ornery old-"

"ALASTOR."

It's a very very awkward dinner, Alastor tried to compliment Susan's meatloaf? He got bullied, you did step in to shut that behavior down but that didn't do much, Alastor tried to help wash the dishes after supper? Susan stood over him watching as he washed every plate and each piece of cutlery, judging him.

Susan did not fear the overlord, and you were concerned.

After dinner was finished and dessert was eaten Susan stared both you and Alastor down as you sat on her couch.

"How long have you been married?"

"Six years."

"Where are my grandchildren then?!"

You hold up the mini Alastor, it's tail wagged slowly as Susan looked upon it with a look of disapproval,

"That's a shitty looking rat, is your husband dysfunctional?"

"Ma, can you not- NO, Alastor put away the tentacles she will RIP THEM OFF-''

AND HEADCANON TIME BECAUSE I am not the best at writing action.

You poor soul.

They can't kill each other because you exist,

It's like stopping two toddlers from fighting except one's well over a century old and your married to the other one,

You're an unpaid babysitter I'm so sorry

Alastor was raised to respect woman and the elderly but he is very close to attacking Susan

He can't do much because he doesn't want to get into trouble with Rosie because attacking one of her cannibals no matter who it is, was a whole can of worms he rather not open, and also she was unfortunately your mother,

He's questioning that, like after this dinner expect him to sit you down and just start throwing questions, like how?

He liked Susan's meatloaf well enough, he could live without it though,

Susan runs into him randomly on the street? She asks if she has a grandchild yet, no? He's getting attacked with the cane and asked if he cannot perform properly Violence on the ace deer

She tries to convince you to leave him and tried introducing you to a random cannibal she pulled off the street, but she stopped after you got upset at her.

Assuming you live at the Hazbin hotel with Alastor Susan visits, she somehow got a key to the room you and Alastor shared so you could be sleeping and Susan pops in swinging her cane, dropping lore

Alastor lives in mild fear, he's changed the locks, he's put Niffty outside the door as security,

Susan always GETS IN.

You have boundaries with her but she breaks them and your working on getting her to stop,

It becomes a hotel wide situation of getting Susan to not break in

She oddly enough likes Angel dust and you use him as a distraction whenever she appears without warning,

You owe Angel several favors.

You are in debt.

Susan eventually grows a fondness for the freak grandchild, she gets clothes, dresses him up and calls him sonny,

Alastor's not the most pleased but it's better then getting asked if he suffers from certain conditions

They sometimes fight over your time, like he's taking you out on a date and Susan pops in and drags whisks you away for tea or something,

They can't do much aside from verbal Insults and glares, but they did get into a physical fight, Alastor got hit with a chair, Susan almost got eaten, Alastor sent Niffty on her and she almost got stabbed

You threatened to tell Rosie and they both stopped, thankfully

Susan keeps divorce papers on hand just in case you ever change your mind, she's not afraid to attack an overlord, this woman is down below for a reason and she is FERAL.

If she catches Alastor chompin' down on your arm he's getting whooped with a cane and the both of you are getting a full lecture on if he's doing anything he's not supposed too, and if he is, he needs to go.

Alastor is very adamant that he would never intentionally harm you apparently the BITING DOESN'T COUNT AS HARM???

Dude has a fear of becoming like his father.

They have issues but they agree on things like this,

There's eventually a group meeting about Susan breaking into the hotel and while she's welcome she needs to stop popping in at late hours of the night or at the crack of dawn,

There's a Susan security system set up now.

Susan's never going to fully approve because you'll always be that small child she found on the side of the streets long ago to her and no man, woman or whatever is going to be good enough for her little girl, but she'll put up with it, she knows that while Alastor isn't the best person it could be worse.

She eventually respects your boundaries, yay!

Good evening folks! Thank you for tuning in! I hope you liked whatever this was, I'm slowly working though requests! Now it's 3 am and I'm tired, goodnight! Have a cursed cat Alastor in a suit that I drew with my fingers

He looks like a tatortot

[leafostuff]

One Heck of a Joyride[Ft. WooAh's Nana]

Word Count: 14-15K~ words

Collab with @octoberautumnbox

My Author's Notes: we are so excited to finally release this fic for yall, me and box have been working on this fic since the end of FEBRUARY (almost 3 months) and we have been working on it so hard to make it the best it can be so I really hope you will enjoy this fic

@octoberautumnbox's author notes: there u have it! took the better part of three months, but it was really fun to work on :DDDD Thanks to leafo for making sure i didn't slack LMAO

No tags since it is too long but this is fluff and smut

Thanks: of course @octoberautumnbox for working with me on this amazing collab. @4m1rz for being my lovely beta reader and @libraryoferos for being my motivation to not be lazy on this fic

And so without any further preface, let's get started, shall we?

================================================

“And I expect you all to get along this year. Leave the past behind you as you all face a new future together.” Sporadic applause rises slowly from the crowd and dies down twice as quickly. The dean sighs away from the mic and drifts offstage, leaving everyone disinterested in the rest of the program. It all goes by in a blur, and finally ends right as the air conditioners start to fail against the heat of a summer not-yet-ended. 

Your attention is drawn away from the droning on and on from the stage and towards the many characters that populate the theater with you. You catch glimpses of people talking with their friends, a few crazy hair colours, and the occasional sleeping student who’s no doubt already saving up hours for the all-nighters to come. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice someone in the front row with both people sitting next to her conspicuously leaning away. They seem to want to get up and leave her there by herself, but the way she gives no reaction despite the jeering tone coming from her seatmates leads you to think that she’s asleep herself. 

~~~

“So yeah, That's the tour, bucko. Check the map if you’re ever lost.” Your student tour guide points at the multi-colored document on your phone. Vaguely you recall the various little symbols: which classrooms you can sleep in, which bathrooms are haunted, which shortcuts are best, all of the must-know basics of college life. 

As you continue scanning around the campus, the girl from the assembly catches your attention again. She has her hood up this time, but you can tell it’s her; her quick pacing and how she is not looking around at anyone making you believe that she’s trying her best to hide.

“What about that one? Do we not talk about her?” you ask, pointing at the oblivious figure walking past, drawing eyes and whispers much like your own. 

Your guide scoffs at the absurd idea. “That’s Nayeon. And no, we don’t. She fucked up last year, big time. Got a bunch of us in trouble. So stay away from her, she has those goody-two-shoes germs.” he says, walking away as while signaling you to follow him.

You wonder what she could have done to gain such a reputation. She was adorable earlier with her hood off, but the way people talk about her makes you want to steer clear against your own will. 

~-~-~-~

Curiosity ends up killing the cat, and you manage to gather bits and pieces of the incident from last year from gossip, class lore, and even the way some professors acted:

“She’s the luckiest bitch in the world with not a single shred of common sense. Seriously, who goes and rats on a hundred other students like that?”

“The test incident shows she only looks out for herself, even if it means bringing down the entire class.”

“There’s really no excuse for it. You have the answer key in your hand, of course you take a picture! You don’t just leave it where it’ll incriminate some other innocent loser and say you’re only trying to do the right fucking thing.”

The sheer number of factoids you gather from the wild bunch of sources only slightly make sense. Unfortunately, trying to piece them together only took up more space and brainpower which you should have used to study for your midterms coming up. Keep to yourself and you can just barely pass and move on; there is no time for college drama.

After the exam, you approach the professor to ask about possibly bumping up your grade. You decided to maybe half-ass an extra credit assignment and get the lowest passing score, but you resolve to just see where it goes. While lost in thought, you nearly bump into the small girl in front of you. already talking to the teacher, and by the way they’re whispering, it seems like it’s something serious. 

“I’m not sure what you’re trying to do here anymore, Miss Kwon,” the professor admits as he takes off his glasses and rubs his nose bridge. “None of this was necessary. I thought we wanted to leave all this behind us.”

Nayeon looks down to her toes in defeat. “I’m sorry, Sir. I was just thinking, maybe I’d get sent out of class this time.” Her voice cracks, giving away her vulnerable state: she’s near tears but trying to fight everything back to look tough. Sadly for her, you think, none of it is working.

“Look, just try to lay low. It’s your last year before all of this starts to not matter anymore.” Your professor finally puts his glasses back on and looks Nayeon straight in the eye. “Trust me, you’re better off keeping your head down. You’ll be fine.”

She walks despondently off to the right and out the door. Your feet choose to follow her, but a sudden jolt restores your common sense. “And you, Mister New Guy, what seems to be the problem? Beside your dismal score, that is.”

You have a slight feeling you are not getting a higher score.

~-~-~

After talking it out fruitlessly with the professor, he releases you from his classroom and you make your way out. The conversation with him didn’t take long, and so you arrive to a few jeers and muffled laughter once you step outside.

“Serves her right. Trying all this bullshit isn’t gonna change anything.” 

“Seriously, cheating on a test she obviously studied for? How dense could she be?”

“I bet she just wants to show us up. She’ll study and then cheat, then she gets perfect marks on the test and she’ll show us she’s untouchable again.” 

You find it hard to believe that Nayeon would resort to something as convoluted and pointless as that, but then again, you really don’t know her to make a judgment. Whatever she was thinking, you agree that it was idiotic to pull that sort of thing, even if you didn’t see any of it.

The weather on campus is the right mix of cloudy and sunny, with rays of light shining respectfully on the grass and pavement of your college courtyard. Something tells you that people-watching by the gym feels like the perfect lunchtime activity for a day like this, so you find your way to the properly noisy setting and look for a spot out of the way. 

You settle on a spot by the side of the gym with the perfect amount of shade and wind, but you’re instead drawn further back to the rear by strange and irregular noises. Turning the last corner, you’re met with a surprising figure.

It was Nayeon, sitting with her back against one of the walls, her entire body curled up like a ball. You slowly inch closer and closer to her, and you realize the strange noises that you heard before were instead sniffles and cries coming from the lonely girl. Finally as you get close enough, Nayeon feels your presence and raises her head.

Her eyes were full of tears, who knows for how long she had been crying, and you could feel the sadness coming from her eyes; they were trying to tell you something, however, it's hard to figure out what. Her expression of sadness didn't stay for long though as soon enough her expression turns angry when you get closer to her, squatting down to look at the girl from a closer angle.

“Please, go away. Leave me alone.” The small girl pushes you away, but with her hand preoccupied wiping away her tears, she can’t do much to get rid of you. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you? You have the nerve to do what you did last year and still show your face?” The anger in your voice catches you off guard. Since when did you take it personally when it came to her?

“Oh fuck off, new guy,” she taunts. “So I’m fucking hiding here, what more do you want?” She tries to act tough again, but it’s painfully apparent to both of you that it isn’t working. At this point, you really do just want to leave her alone. And just like every other time, nothing’s stopping you. So why are you staying?

You breathe a sigh of defeat at the situation you find yourself in. “Look, I don’t have any sort of beef with you personally, but come on. This is pathetic. You’re only embarrassing yourself by doing all this bullshit that isn’t like you at all.”

“And what if it’s not like me?!” Her shout sends a few birds hiding in nearby bushes to take off. This sort of language takes you aback from her; Little Miss Perfect Kwon Nayeon, top honour student, teacher’s favourite pet, hating herself? 

“I… I don’t like being me, and I don’t like what I am.” She wipes her tears again and tries (and fails) to look you in the eyes once more. “So if you’re another member of the ‘I hate Nayeon’ club, well… Better show the club president some respect.”

She sits back down with her back against the wall. Nayeon's eyes are wet for the last time before she wipes them off and faces her lack of tears.

Normally in situations like those you would just walk away and ignore people like those for the rest of the school year, but for some reason with Nayeon in front of you, showing herself being weak, fragile, and sad, something about her makes it so you can't leave the situation alone. Curiosity gets the best of you, and you have to know why.

“No,” you turn back to her as a determined expression is painted on your face.

“What?”

“I'm not leaving you alone until you tell me.” You stand your ground, arms crossed, and Nayeon can't seem to be any more pissed than before. “What is going on? What do you mean you don't like yourself?” you ask.

For a while, no one dares to speak another word, and you wonder if what you have here is an argument. For a good few seconds, she stares at you intently as silence hangs heavy in the air. 

“You think,” she says defeatedly between sniffles, “that I'm Little Miss Perfect, right? Like everyone calls me ‘the straight-A girl?’ Well I’m not, and I’m tired of everyone saying so.” She fishes out a very used handkerchief from her pocket and wipes her eyes of tears, only for them to be replaced by more. 

“It can’t be that bad, Nayeon. People look up to you, I’m sure.” You finally notice your alarms are blaring and you’re put on high alert. What you just said was the exact wrong thing to say, and you’re at critical risk of involving yourself in her messy situation more than you should.

She side-eyes you, calculating if you’re being sincere or not. She stuffs her handkerchief back into her pocket carelessly as if knowing that she’ll only pull it back out again soon. She looks down at her hands, deep in thought, looking like she’s trying to grapple with something she might regret. 

Once she’s done, she fumbles around in her backpack. She fishes out a tiny black notebook she seems to keep so well hidden, on the cover of the notebook the words ‘Nana’s Bucket List’ are scrawled in big, bold, immature-looking letters.

“Throughout all of my life, I always wanted to be the top student, the best of the best like no one ever was, and I succeeded, you know…” she scoffs. “Top marks in Elementary, Middle school, and Valedictorian in high school.” She sighs and tries to fight back more tears, though you notice she’s a bit more successful this time, with a bit of hope and yearning in her eyes.

"But on the other side… The other side seems so great. I mean, I see all these movies and books about college life," she says in between residual sobs and hiccups. She opens the notebook, showing you a not-so-long list, and even though it's hard to see the text from the small size of the writing, you can make out a little bit of what’s written on the paper.

Cheat on a test 

Get drunk

Party all night

Dye my hair

Sing in an Open stage show

Sneak into a Public pool

Shoplifting

You know...

Most of what you read makes zero sense, and you’re half-convinced this girl is just crazy. You stare at the scribbled letters, hoping to draw more meaning from them, but Nayeon shuts the little notebook in your face and starts putting it back away. 

"I want to do them all. Drinking, breaking glass bottles, partying, all that stuff," she explains dreamily. She zips up her bag and pats it down, making sure it’s secure beside her, and turns her attention back to you, “I want to live like a normal girl, you know what I mean?” she asks, you are not sure if its because of the tears, but her eyes seem to glitter.

"That's very cliche, Nana," you jab at her, making fun of the nickname she gave herself.

"That's all I know, though. Please." She takes your hand in between hers and looks up at you, teary-eyed and seemingly begging for her life.”This wouldn’t kill you, all I’m asking for is some help crossing stuff off of the list.”

You hate how well it works on you: her big, round eyes, her adorable little pout, her cute pleading voice. It goes against everything you know, and even now you’re sure you don’t want to get involved in whatever this would turn out to be. And yet, despite even the most deeply ingrained lessons you’ve learned for yourself, all it takes is a brief moment for it to come crashing down.

With a disbelieving sigh and a sense of regret creeping in, you ask: “What’s in it for me?”

~-~-~-~

You take a bite of your burger and breathe out. Cheap bun, dubious patty, artificial cheese, it all takes you back to a past life. You're left to momentarily wonder how you ended up where you are now, and slowly it comes back to you. You messed up.

"So, about the list." Nayeon sets down her cup, ice cubes clinking against each other as they swirl around her soda. "I already did one. So that’s one less thing for us to do”.

"I can do that much math, Nayeon. What do you take me for?" You chomp down on a few fries grumpily. 

"I didn't mean it like that. All I'm saying is there are just a few more months left until graduation, so we'll need to be quick. We can’t be lazy about this." She pulls out the little black notebook and flips to an unfamiliar page. The words "cheat on a test" has doodles of a devil's horns and wings and tail around it, with lots of eyes and ears decorating the rest of the ruled paper. Above it, the poster you recognize from the movie "Bad Genius" is copied, albeit crudely, in a thought bubble.

"I did this one last year, don't ask. Anyway, this next one should be easy enough." She flips to the next page, showing a couple pictures of beer cups and wine bottles, surrounding the words “Get Drunk.”

“Wait, is this the ‘incident’ people hate you for? What even happened there?” You eat more of your fries, trying to hide your curiosity. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work and she nips the conversation in the bud.

“That’s not anything you need to know. What matters is now and the future. Now are you with me or not?” She snaps the notebook closed and yanks it away from your sight, back into the pocket she keeps it in. 

“I can’t help if I don’t know what exactly your deal is,” you say disappointedly. You pick up your own drink and take a sip, and the cool soda washes over your tongue and throat on the way down. “You’re making this harder than it needs to be with everything that’s going on.”

For a moment, you catch Nayeon’s gaze on you, dumbfounded. You could almost hear the gears in her head turning as she tries to process your logic, but it takes a while. As she thinks, though, you take a particular interest in how she handles it: her mouth is hanging slightly ajar and her eyes are only half-focused on wherever they’re pointed. You notice how delicately her bangs fall on her forehead, how her eyebrows furrow and crease, how she tries finding the right words yet can’t find the message she wants to send. Odd things to notice, surely, and yet here you are. You messed up.

It starts coming back to you. The jeers from your classmates as you walk down the hall grow louder in your ears, and you fight against your hands trying to cover them with the knowledge that none of it is real anymore. The tears you fight back all the time surface for another rematch, but with your current state, you may be at a disadvantage. 

Fortunately, she shocks you back into reality. “Hey, are you listening? I’m feeding you, so the least you could do is pay attention.” She bites a small chunk of her burger and chews, and you notice how her cheeks puff slightly and the corner of her mouth is decorated with a dollop of mustard. 

Cute.

1 + 2. Get drunk + Party All Night

“God, this is stupid,” you think to yourself, exiting the convenience store. With a plastic bag in your right hand and your phone in your left hand, checking the time and the address Nayeon sent you earlier today. Finding it was easier than you expected, and you tried not to let the walk to her dorm set any expectations for you.

You bring your knuckles to the wooden door and make three quick raps. It swings open very quickly and you’re dragged into the cozy space without even the slightest chance to take off your shoes. 

“You took forever! Did you bring the stuff?” She looks all over you and pats you down, looking for what you brought her. 

“Get off, will you? I put them all in my bag like a normal person.” You swing your backpack off your shoulder and carefully place it onto a nearby table. Nayeon takes a seat and waits excitedly for what you brought for the two of you. From your bag, you produce three bottles of soju, three five-packs of Yakult, six cans of beer, and four bags of chips. She eyes each item with absolute interest as they leave your backpack, and she hardly contains herself once you finish and zip up your bag once more. 

“Okay, so how does this work?” Her eyes sparkle with wonder, and while waiting for your instructions, it was clear that as much as she was excited, she was also inexperienced.

“First off, get us some shot glasses and a pitcher. Oh, and a can opener.” Nayeon bolts off to the cooking area, and you can hear drawers opening and shutting loudly. You start getting concerned when you hear plates start to clatter against each other, but thankfully it dies down quickly and she returns with two small glasses, a decently sized pitcher, and a can opener. 

“Shit. I meant bottle. Bottle opener.” Without even a hint of annoyance, she rushes back off into the kitchen and, after a few more rummaging sounds, she returns with the correct item. She really must not know what she’s doing.

“Come on, show me!” She shoves the bottle opener into your hand, and you’re left with no choice. 

“Don’t you have a roommate we have to worry about?” You pop the cap off one of the soju bottles and then tear the aluminum top off two bottles of Yakult. “She’s out with her own friends. Hurry!” Despite her starting to get on your nerves, you pour all three into the pitcher and swirl them around together. Once you’re done, you pour the mixture into each of the glasses until they’re full. 

“Bottoms up, Nayeon.” 

“Bottoms up!”

The both of you down your drinks: yours slowly crawls down your throat, but hers disappears straight into her stomach. She reels at the burning lines left by the alcohol all over her esophagus and takes a bit of time to recover. 

“Whoa, that was,” she says, and a burp erupts from her mouth, “intense.” She sways a little bit to the left before righting herself, and then overcompensates to lean to the left again. 

“Easy there, champ. We’ve got two more bottles to go through.” You pour another shot for each of you, hers first and then yours, and raise your glass once more.

“Open the chips now,” you tell her. “This’ll be less dreadful with food.” 

Both of you down your shots at the same time, and Nayeon reels at the sensation once more. 

“Does that get easier?” Her speech is slowly starting to slur, the poor thing. “I’m kinda feeling a little something right now, too…”

“Yes, but only if you keep going at it, idiot. Don’t down everything so quickly.” Grab one of the bags of chips yourself, open and present it to Nayeon on the center of the table.

“Eat. You’ll hate this less.” You take a handful of chips and bring all of them into your mouth. Once you do, you raise your eyebrow at her to tell her to do the same.

“Isn’t… *hic* being hungry the thing for… faster drunk?” 

“Apparently so, Nayeon. I don’t even know what I expected from you.” You take another shot, alone this time. She tries to pour her own shot, but fails miserably at getting the liquid anywhere near the inside of her shot glass. It’s adorable how she tries, though.

You pour her another shot despite a small voice telling you maybe she isn’t cut out for this much in such a short time. You shove the voice aside in favor of Nayeon’s own words: “We pregame, drink a little, and then we go. Party starts at 7:30, so we leave here by 7 o’clock.” Her shot glass fills with the drink, and you place it in front of her, making sure at least to keep an eye out for what might happen next. 

She successfully picks up the glass and, sans the spills she made on the glass's way from the table to her mouth, drinks everything she could. She slams the glass onto the table in no light movement and you have a slight inkling of regret at letting her do that to herself. 

“You… We have to… Fuck.” Nayeon’s head droops and she catches her face with her hands. She may have underestimated how strong soju is, or maybe what being drunk actually does to a person. A groan emanates from behind her palms, and you notice she’s having trouble holding herself up. 

“Aren’t we going out after this? You might wanna slow down, idiot.” You pour yourself another shot and drink it leisurely. Nayeon tries leaning back onto the chair, and she finally pries her hands away from her eyes. She does a few quick blinks, and she tries to focus her sight on you. Her head sways a little bit, and it dawns on you that you may have overestimated her. 

“I’m okay… just… we have to go.” She tries to stand up, but she wobbles dangerously and you have to catch her. Dive under her and take on her weight, thankfully not too heavy, and keep her from hitting the floor. She mumbles a bit about something you can only kind of understand, but it's enough to guide your next decision.

“Forget it,” you grunt as you plop her back into her chair, “we're not going anywhere.” An exasperated sigh leaves your lungs, and you head off to the kitchen to return with a large bottle of cold water.

“No… we have to go. We'll be late.” Nayeon tries to get up again, but there's no strength left in her body. She sits motionlessly, probably thinking that she's already stood up, and it gives way to a confused look on her face as to why she's still in the same place.

You fill a proper-sized glass with water and hand it to her, which she drinks obediently. You fill her palm with potato chips which she also eats without objection. The way her jaw moves, clumsy and slow, signals a threat that she might just fall over any minute.

You move your chair to her side and sit there, allowing Nayeon to lean her head on you. Her hair covers her reddening face, and her hiccups arrive in growing force.

“If you're still in there, Nayeon,” you say quietly, “we're not going out. I can't look after you this closely at a party.” All she does to respond is nod. Her hiccups are punctuated intermittently with sniffles, which you take as a sign that she knows she has no power left to object. 

Still, you feel bad for her as her plans fall through. Despite the responsible thing to do, put her to bed and leave, you kick yourself mentally before deciding to stay anyway.

“Movies and snacks?”

~-~-~-~

Before you know it, the night goes by just as quick. You go through the list of movies she’d always wanted to watch: The Truman Show, The Great Gatsby, Mean Girls, and even then there’s still a few left on her list. You could tell she was watching properly halfway through the first, and that was the telltale sign that she’d sobered up. 

You drink a bit more with her in between movies, and she would frequently pause to get up and put on a song to dance to. “It keeps me awake,” she said, “I can’t fall asleep before the good part happens.” The songs she put on are generic pop and the kinds you skip whenever they come up, but you let it pass for tonight.

At some point, she pulls out an old Wii and challenges you to Mario Kart. “I am undefeated in this game. I’m not even that good, everyone else that challenged me just sucked.” You take her up on her offer, and the match begins. You try and almost get ahead of her in a few of the turns, but she would always take back her lead at the slightest opportunity of you hitting a wall or missing an item. And the way she glows with pride every single time she crosses the finish line before you do, the sudden brightness that fills her face when she wins race after race, the confidence it gives her that she isn’t actually the worst person in the world, all of it is a sight to behold. People may see Kwon Nayeon as an arrogant goody-two-shoes traitor, but the way you see her now is different: just someone with a past to outgrow. 

Right as the last movie’s credits start rolling, mischievous thin rays of dawn sunlight slip past the tiny gaps in the curtains. Both you and Nayeon have little energy left for anything else, and you maybe think it’s time to call it a night and go home.

“Let me walk you out,” she says while trying to rub the sleep out of her eyes for a little bit longer. You both get up and walk to the door, and as it opens your faces are flooded with a world right before it wakes. Dewdrops sit respectfully on leaves and blades of grass, birds are only starting to stretch their wings, and the crisp morning air fills your lungs with a calm grace. 

You turn back to Nayeon, who you find is still admiring the dawn, and grasp her elbow. “Sit with me.” 

You both squat down and take your seats again on her doorstep. Clouds roll in and dot the sky, wandering on the blank canvas of today, eagerly waiting for sunlight to block out. The sun peeks over the horizon and the first proper rays start to arrive, spreading warmth where they land. Nayeon meets your eyes one last time, and the pair of you find a sleepy and still a bit drunk person when you look at each other.

“Well,” you say as if it was a farewell, “good night, Nayeon. And good morning.”

“Good night,” she giggles back, “and good morning to you too.”

3. Sneak into a Public Pool

“Are you sure about this?” Nana’s tone is subdued by fear. Her voice shakes and struggles to be as quiet as possible, but at the same time you get the feeling that if you didn’t need to be quiet, she’d be yelling right now and trying to get the both of you to leave.

“Can you please shut up? I’m trying to focus!” You find the first of the pins and push it out of the way. For a moment, you lament how restricted you are: this could have been such a simple lock to break, replace even, but the girl dragging you around was deathly insistent on leaving as little damage and evidence as possible. 

“You shut up! I'm whispering here!” Anger rises in her voice, and you almost feel anger in yours too. You're able to stop it though, and you remind yourself that if ever a guard was on watch that actually cared about this place, they'd be easily outrun.

The lock presents more of a challenge than you thought; despite the agonizingly simple solution of snapping its shackle, its inner mechanisms are harder to crack for whatever reason. Taking it pin by pin is supposed to be an easy task, but the warm and humid air and the incessant nagging seem to debilitate you. It’s such a nice night out for a swim, why make this any harder than it needs to be?

After what seemed like eternity you finally manage to pick the lock, sighing in relief as the both of you head forward quietly, but cautiously looking side to side just in case. The metal-grate door swings open slowly, avoiding any creaking sounds it may make otherwise, and the both of you enter the pool area.

“I gotta say Nayeon, this went better than I thought it would,” you say, both of you looking at the rectangular box of water which unlike during the day, was completely still, no waves, no splashes, just the water. It glistened and reflected all manner of light: the pool lights above and below the water, the yellow street lamps far off on the sidewalk, and the moon overhead, singing tones of wonder and mystery to those touched by its borrowed glow.

Off to the side, you find Nayeon fiddling with the hem of her shirt. Her head whips round incessantly as she tries to keep a lookout of the surroundings rather poorly. Sigh a deep one, and finally go over and take your seat next to her. 

“Thanks… gimme a sec.” She finally grabs the hem decisively. The fabric crumples a bit under her grip and folds as it's pulled up.

You can’t help but watch as the shirt starts to leave her body, revealing a slim and toned tummy underneath. Your breath hitches as it crawls higher, reaching her face and obscuring her sight, and she inadvertently shows off a dark purple sports bra that’s… a size too small. Your gaze lingers on her cleavage and the flesh of her boobs lightly spilling out of the garment.

Nana turns around and you’re treated with the view of a beautiful back and shoulders to die for. The way her body twists and turns in the slightest ways to negotiate the shirt off of her form is the most sensual dance you’ve ever seen.

And you realize you’re staring. Fortunately for you, she doesn’t seem to notice, and she continues on to fold the shirt properly before setting it next to her sports bag. You opt not to risk staring any longer, and you decide to get rid of your own shirt. You strip quickly, and your shirt flies off approximately near Nayeon’s things in a messy pile by itself.

Sit on the edge of the pool, dip your feet into the water. There’s absolutely no reason for it to be this warm, you think, but whatever the case may be, it feels like a tea that’s just about to go cold. This, coupled with the humid air and quiet atmosphere, makes for a perfect night to spend on whatever this is with her. 

She joins you and takes her seat at the edge of the pool, and in every other situation, you’d ask her to back off a bit. Instead, as she lays her head on your shoulder and takes your hand in between hers, you lose your steel in the most important of times. 

“I’m scared.” Her eyes never leave the water, taking in the light dancing on its surface. Her face is fraught with worry, and while you know it’s for no good reason, you nevertheless try to reassure her.

“Yeah, someone might jump out of the bushes and arrest us for swimming in a swimming pool,” you say mockingly. “They’re gonna take us to court on the charges of ‘using something the way it was meant to be used’ and we’re gonna get life sentences. When we’re all old and wrinkly they’re gonna sit us in the electric chair.”

“Okay, I get your point. But still, though, I’m scared.” She grips your hand tighter, and for some reason you can’t resist her. Place your other hand over hers and try to calm her down. Nana takes a deep breath with her eyes closed, and finally looks at you with a reserved grin.

“Alright, I’m good. Let’s go.” 

You feel her hand on your back, and warmth spreads from her palm. Her smile grows just a bit wider and her eyes follow suit. Her teeth show themselves from between her lips, and you’re almost tempted to dive right in. 

Lucky for you, she helps. The hand on her back suddenly applies more pressure, pushing you to the pool and causing a splash going all directions. Collect your thoughts and raise your head above the water to see Nana, face full of laughter, right before she dives in the water with you.

It takes a second, but her head resurfaces and you find yourself relieved. She catches her breath once more, and before you know it, you're met with a faceful of chlorinated water. “What are you staring at?” She says between hearty laughs. 

Wipe the water from your face, find the humor. Laugh with her, and face her properly.

Another shade of Kwon Nayeon. Granted, it's one with no makeup and way less clothes than usual, but none of that takes away from her natural, elegant beauty. It's captivating, the way her figure glides around the water, the way the cool night air wisps around the pair of you, the way the moon throws its rays around the world, your world, so haphazardly. 

Another faceful of water, and you snap out of your daze. “Creepy ass,” she snorts happily. She splashes you again, and this time you fight back. 

“Race you around the pool.” You start paddling, and the water grows loud against your ears. She says something back to you and starts paddling herself to catch up.

“Yeah,” you think to yourself, “whatever this is with her.”

4. Sing in an Open Mic

“Another night, another goal,” you muse, sitting in your car with Nayeon in the passenger seat. It has become quite a routine that every time she wants to do something on her bucket list she asks you to pick her up. You don’t mind too much — she pays for gas after all. 

“Where do we go this time?” Nayeon just shoves her phone in your face, showing a map with directions to some bar out of town. She looks at you expectantly, but without any more information than what you’re currently getting, you’re at a loss for what she’s trying to make you see.

“A club.”

“Exactly.”

“We already did ‘get drunk.’”

“I know. This is different.”

“How so?”

“Take me here. Make me sing. Take me home.”

The pieces connect in her head and she pulls out the notebook again. She flips to a page you again haven’t seen, and when she shows it to you you’re treated to the sight of “Open Mic Stage” in graffiti-style letters and the poster of “Wedding Singer” scrawled in the bottom right corner of the page. 

“If you have the map, why not just do this yourself? You didn’t need to wait for me. If anything, I’d only laugh at how bad you might be.” You push away her phone and notebook, choosing to return your attention to the sidewalk instead. The boba tea place you keep hearing about is nearby. 

“That’s the thing,” Nayeon interjects again, “I have been there before. I listened to all the people singing, and they’re… some are good. I don’t know if I am, but I got shy at the last minute and I never even got near the stage.” She grabs your sleeve and your attention. “I need you to make me sing. Don’t let me chicken out.”

You shrug, “Sure, let's do it.”

~-~-~-~

Taking up two seats at the bar, you try and seem to fail at helping Nayeon calm down. Her guitar rests against the bartop beside her while she fans herself hurriedly with her hand. “It’s so nerve-racking… I knew this was a mistake,” she adds before turning back and trying to leave the place, however, you stop her in her tracks

“Come on, you worked so hard for this,” you say, recalling the number of recordings she sent you: one for each take she was doing. “You can do this,” you continue reassuring her, knowing she’s more ready than ever. At the same time, you could see your friend get more nervous by the second, now taking more sips of her water bottle.

“But what if I miss a chord, or I sing badly? Everyone will laugh at my mist–'' You know at this point she’ll only spiral to worse and worse thoughts, so you nip it in the bud and stop her right there. You take both her shoulders in your hands, making Nayeon stop her nervous rambling, and her cheeks turn a shade of pink.

“I believe in you, Nana. just take a deep breath.” You stop to let her do as you say, taking a deep breath in and slowly breathing it out. The tension leaves her with each breath she takes, and you find a moment to keep her stable. “Good, I am sitting right here, not leaving for any reason, so if you feel nervous, just find me. Look at me.” Her gaze softens at your promise, and her lips form a tiny smile in response to your words. 

Hearing the current open mic singer finishing up his song, you send her off with some final words. “Your turn now, Nana. Break a fucking leg.” You leave her shoulders as her smile slowly starts to grow.

You watch her heading toward the stage, taking her guitar out of the cover, and taking her seat on the chair in front of the mic. “Hey,” she starts, “I am Nayeon… and I’m gonna sing Spring Day by BTS… I, uhh, hope you enjoy.”

She takes one last deep breath as you find her gaze on you. You return a reassuring smile, and Nayeon’s eyes fly back to her guitar. She strums her first chord, and the crowd’s welcoming applause rises.

“I’m missing you, when I say that I miss you more, I’m missing you…” Nayeon’s fingers strum the strings delicately, and it enchants you how graceful and in control she is of her instrument. The wood and metal of her guitar work together under her guidance to produce a beautiful sound, one you feel deep inside you'd never have heard the beauty of if not here, not now.

The way her lips move to articulate her words is heavenly, like she has you under a benevolent spell to bring you a rare sort of peace. It captivates you how she carries herself; behind her tough outer shell is a scared and confused layer, which hides a soft and optimistic core and wants to chase a brighter, happier future by cherishing the present. You marvel at your luck, that you were permitted to see so much of her, and how openly she welcomed you in when all she knew was aloneness and to shut people out. 

“Snowflakes falling from the sky, are drifting further by and by…” Her heavenly voice draws you in, and it commands your attention like it speaks directly to your soul. The sound of Nayeon tugs on your heartstrings, pulling you closer to its source, and you let yourself get whisked away.

And to its source you look; find a girl with courage like you’d never seen. See Kwon Nayeon in a different light than the harsh monotones of the classroom fluorescents, but in a spotlight that she takes up with everything in her soul. It’s a different shade of her: a shade of Nayeon that only you could comprehend, a part of her that only you had the privilege to understand.

“I breathe you out there somewhere, like smoke in the air…” The space grows warmer, like a hearth welcoming you home. Your surroundings quiet down as Nayeon pulls them deeper and deeper with her subconscious command: rest, lay down your worries and fly for the moment towards your peace. You look around, and every fellow face in the crowd you see has their eyes fixed on Nayeon’s performance; they’d never know it, but it’s the debut of a person coming into a whole new life free of regret and cowardice. It’s Nayeon building herself up from the rubble of a past that she aims to forget. 

“Flowers blooming towards the sky, has winter finally passed by?” The noise of the world seems to die down, as if just you and Nayeon are the only two things in existence. The pace of her strumming slows, as do the lyrics that escape her mouth. Every note she produces is deliberate, gentle, comforting, and for once you feel like you’re able to imagine a brighter tomorrow like her. 

With her. 

The song draws to a close, and she looks all over the crowd as they start to clap. You can't help but join in. Nayeon just bows lightly, and you can feel how happy she is that everything went well in her song. As she steps off the stage, you leave your spot and head toward her.

With both of you only a couple of steps apart, you chuckle lightly, “Well it wasn't so bad was—” You were stopped, caught off guard by your friend, dashing to you with open arms and crashing into your chest, wrapping her arms around you, and pulling you into an embrace. 

No words are spoken; both of you just stand there, hugging each other, her face nuzzling your chest as you could faintly feel her heartbeat. You were quite surprised with Nayeon being so open with you, since it was just a short time ago you made your promise to help. 

“Thank you…” she says, now releasing you from her embrace, noticing how her eyes shed small tears, that you couldn't figure out if they are tears of sadness, or happiness.

“... Always here for you Nayeon.”

“Please… call me Nana,” she says. She takes her notebook and crosses off another line from her bucket list, and as she walks toward the exit, you make way for the people coming by to greet her for the performance.

You can't help but wonder… has something changed after that performance?

5. Shoplifting

“Pick something already, it's not that hard,'' you remark impatiently while tapping your feet. Both of you are staring at the snack section of the local convenience store near your college, and Nana hovers her hand over the selection of snacks to look for the perfect one.

“Stop rushing me, I'm trying to choose which one will not get me caught,” she replies, still focused. The veteran petty thief in you groans, recalling your highschool days where nicking a cigarette or two (or ten) every once in a while gave you back huge chunks of your monthly budget. You miss the simplicity of it, and you once again find the restriction of being so careful more annoying than anything else. How come for Nayeon it is such a big struggle to steal one snack? You shoot the question up to whichever god might be listening, and you even half-expect an answer back. 

“You are thinking about it too much, the cashier is probably not gonna notice even if you stole something that made noise,” you add, tapping your foot rapidly, like you were some parent spending too long in the toy section.

“Well, please forgive me, oh thug master, it’s my fault that I never did that shit before!” Her whispers are loud enough for you to hear clearly, your less-than-welcoming attitude leading her to take a deep sigh.

“Fine, if you want to make it easier, do the buy one steal one method,” you explain. 

“The what?”

“Well to make it simpler than it already is, you dolt, you take two things, one you buy normally, and the other one you don't pay for,” you added as it seems to all make sense in Nayeon’s head. “Defeats the fucking purpose why we’re here, but really, the longer we spend here to leave with just four things, the more anyone will suspect us.”

Despite your best efforts to hurry her, they all seem to only make her take even longer. Her brow furrows deeper, as if trying to form lasers in her eyes to burn holes through the plastic wrappers. 

Your patience wears thinner by the moment, and you resolve to isolate before you lose it completely. “So if you’ll excuse me, I will get my shit and meet you outside,” you say, leaving her alone in the aisle.

As a promise to yourself not to shoplift anymore, you decide to buy just one pack of cigarettes. You light one of them as you lean against one of the store’s walls, watching the sun start to set. Find yourself sitting down, admiring the beauty of a day near its end, taking in the world around you.

Two cigarettes and fifteen minutes later, a small ding sounds from somewhere in the front of the store. It’s Nayeon, half-running out of the building, her face painted with worry as she finds and walks towards you.

“So, you did it?” A smile forms on Nayeon’s face as she takes her right hand to her jean’s pocket, revealing a small candy bar. She brandishes the candy around like a magic wand, as if trying to charm you into being proud of her. 

“Well… it's something,” you nod, while the two of you start towards her dormitory.

“Oh don’t say ‘it’s something’ when you didn't steal anything,” she exclaims. She holds the candy bar up against the setting sun, examining its entire wrapper. Now that you’re a considerable distance from the store, the worry on her face has been replaced completely by pride and excitement.

“Well I don’t shoplift anymore, the only reason I'm letting you do it is because you wanted the experience, which by the way,” you scoff, plucking the snack out of her hands, “all of that was for a chocolate bar.” This earns you a pretty strong punch on the shoulder, and the force loosens your grip on the snack enough for Nayeon to steal it back.

“Shut up,” she says, her cheeks seeming to grow a small shade of pink. She walks faster, leaving you no choice but to speed up as well.

6. Dye my Hair

“Do you think blonde hair will suit me?” Nana asks, holding the color card next to her face. You come in for a closer look, but as you stare you stop and wonder why you even did so in the first place. 

“Yeah… uhh yeah, I think it can suit you well.” You weren't an expert in hair styles and colors, so honestly unless it was a color that was actually hideous, everything was fair game.

Nana smiles at your response and picks out a box of blonde hair dye to add to her basket. You’re a bit nervous that she wants to dye it at home with you, but any attempts you made to convince her to see an actual stylist have been dismissed. “It’s easy,” she said, “there’s instructions on the box.”

“So, how was it?” You’re half-convinced that the bleach is eating through your rubber gloves, but you soldier on.

“Was what?” Nayeon checks herself out in the mini-vanity mirror in front of her. You have to swat her hands away from her head with your elbows, but apart from that she stays on her best behavior.

“You know,” you shrug, “this whole thing. The stealing, the swimming, the dyeing your hair.” You try to keep the bleach from dripping onto your arms, mostly aiming for the scattered sheets of newspaper the two of you prepared on the floor, but there’s only so much you can do. You just resolve to wash off any drops as quickly as possible. 

You get the feeling that she hoped you wouldn’t notice, but you did. The smile on her face dimmed the slightest it could before she could fix it. “It was… great! Stuff I’ll remember for the rest of my life, for sure.” 

Like some form of cosmic karma, she spots your involuntary grin in the mirror. “Good. That’s good.”

The color drains from her hair bit by bit as you apply the bleach carefully. You’re not sure how quickly you have to finish, but Nana seems not to mind. You gently stroke and rub the product through her hair, taking special care not to come into contact with her scalp too often, all the while she turns her head from side to side to admire the look she’s going to have soon. 

“You know…” she says suddenly, avoiding your eyes in the mirror, “this was really fun. I’m so happy I got to do all that stuff on my list.” Her smile changes: what was once a cheerful and optimistic smile just a few moments ago is now a wizened and melancholic one. “I mean it. Thank you for helping me.” 

She makes eye contact with you again in the mirror, and she flashes that smile to you once more. Her hair grows lighter with each passing second, and as her back relaxes and straightens, it seems that the weight of the world leaves her shoulders as well. She breathes more easily now, and despite the fumes the box says you should do your best not to inhale, you breathe easier too.

~-~-~-~ 

You’re sat back again on her sofa, and Nana tries her best not to mess with her hair that’s still soaking. She looks kind of silly, what with her old towel around her shoulders faded to near oblivion, her hair in sections making her look like a half-done scarecrow, her hands going up halfway to her head only to be forced back down by the other. 

And yet, you admire another shade of Nayeon. This time, it’s a girl who’s scared of the future, of changes she might regret later on. It’s something deep in her character, even central maybe, to be afraid of things she can’t take back. Even then, she takes her leaps and bounds to try and outrun her past, and finally, you see the razor edge that keeps everything in balance: Nayeon’s fear which dictates her present, and Nana’s strength which leads her to her future. 

“Hey,” you say abruptly, surprising even yourself, “you good?” 

“I think so. My head’s itchy. Is that supposed to happen? Should we wash it off?”

“No, jackass, it’ll look even worse if you quit halfway.” 

Your words set in and she realizes you’re right. Worry seeps into her face and you notice tears start to well up in her eyes.

“Look, this might not be comfy right now, but I promise it’ll be worth it later on.”

“Really? You promise it’ll look good?” She looks over to you with pleading, shiny eyes, and it almost hurts to tell her no.

“I said I promise it’ll be worth it. Not that it’ll look good.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?!”

You chuckle at the sudden rise in her voice. After all this time, she’s still Nayeon, still Nana. And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It means… if you stick with it, there’s no way you’ll regret what we just did.”

7. You know…

The end of your senior year of college rolls around, and the graduation ceremony is still fresh in everyone’s minds. Photos of friends together and square caps thrown into the air decorate your social media feeds for a good few days, and you can’t deny the whole thing was something you wouldn’t forget for the rest of your life.

And finally, Nana’s bucket list has been finished. To think that all of it was done in the span of a college year is quite impressive to say the least, as before you started she was lost in her own goals and left sitting for a good three years. Now, looking at your diploma, it was not only a sign of your successful studies at college, for you it was also the sign of helping your dear friend get to where she wanted to be. 

Speaking of the devil, now sending you a message

On the way, you see various people from her dorm building heaving away bags and suitcases, undoubtedly taking advantage of the nice weather to move out. You see people hugging each other, taking selfies, exchanging numbers, and all the while you think of each of them with their own stories to tell when they get home, but none so interesting as the one you and Nana built together. 

The walk up the stairs was more of the same, people saying goodbye, and you can’t help but feel a bit of nostalgia. It was by no means a short year, but for everything you did, the feeling of wanting just a bit more time never seems to leave you. You recall the first time you saw her, that quiet girl in the front of the auditorium with four seats of clearance around her, and how you slowly watched her grow into the fine and confident woman she is now. Part of you is unbelievably proud of what she’s achieved, but another part of you knows it’s all her doing and you were only along for the ride. 

You reach Nana’s room just as her roommate was leaving, and you exchange pleasantries with her before she goes off. “Hey, just so you know, Nayeon’s a really nice girl,” she says in whispers to you, “I’m glad she found you before she left.” She pats you on the back before going off to the stairs herself. Something deep inside you glows in agreement, and you think to yourself how lucky you were to be able to meet and spend time with a person like her.

“Hey, come in!” Nana pushes you into her now half-empty room. “Yuri just left, so we have the place all to ourselves!” You take a seat on her easy chair while she plops herself down onto her bed. The half that still has stuff in it is simple and unassuming, and the realization dawns on you that this is the first time you’ve been in Nana’s room. Despite this, the space is warm and cozy, like it was filled with a good sort of energy for a long time. 

“Cheers” you both say at the same time, each with a can of beer that you both drink fairly quickly. You recall the first time of her drinking with you, how easily she felt her stomach hurting but this time she quickly shrugs off the bitter taste.

“You know,” Nana says, her eyes shining and her smile flashing itself directly at you, “I am really happy that you helped me with the bucket list, I couldn't do it without you.”

You simply laugh casually and say “Come on Nana, all you needed was confidence.”

“And who do you think gave me that confidence? I really mean it…thank you,” she says, and you can't help but smile at her back.

“Let me get some snacks, okay? Don’t move a muscle.” As she stands and heads toward the kitchen, you go to check up your phone to see what the time is. However, just as you are about to go into your Instagram, you notice something on the table: a little black notebook that’s only all too familiar. 

When you think about it, She has never shown you the actual list besides that one time when you two first talked. “A peek won't hurt right?” you say, the alcohol definitely makes the choice for you. Your sober self would never invade someone's privacy, especially not some as close as Nana’s, but regardless, you open it and…

You flip through the pages, and the notebook reveals so much more. The few pages you’ve been shown were just decorated pages, and each mission was a chapter, filled with dozens of writings, pictures, scribbles, each for its own topic. You find yourself smiling, muttering quietly to yourself: “You really worked hard on it… didn't you?” 

Your attention is snatched to Nana across the room, looking at you with cheeks fully red. You can't help but curse quietly, and you try to come up with something of an apology. However before you can finish your first word she says…

“Hey, come on, put that down!” Nana rushes toward you, nearly tossing the snacks off to some random part of the room, and snatches away the little black notebook from your hands. She hugs it close to her chest as she turns away, and she looks over her shoulder to peek if you might still be thinking about snatching the notebook back.

Instead, you raise your hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. Sorry. But what's there to hide? Aren't we done?” You take another sip of your drink before picking up one of the snacks. You open the bag of chips and place it on the table for the both of you. 

“Well… I had one other thing. I gave up on it a long time ago, just never ripped out the page.” Nana turns back toward you and fiddles with a leaf of the notebook. Her steps are careful when she gets nearer to you, as if cautious to scare you away. 

“What?!” You bolt to your feet in surprise, your drunkenness taking a backseat at the sudden exposition. “Shit, we gotta go now! What is it?”

“Calm down,” Nana mutters, her feet rubbing against the carpet, “it isn't something we can do anywhere else anyway. Or, I mean, it’s done? I don’t know…”

Your nerves are still flaring, but you get the feeling that whatever it is, there's nowhere else but where you are now that Nana could do the last bucket list thing. Your gaze steadies on her, and she looks like she wouldn't budge for the world. Her eyes never leave the floor, her hands stay guarded on the notebook, and for some reason, she's also able to keep you just where you are. 

“So… what is it, then?” 

“Promise me you won't get mad?”

“... Promise.”

Once she hears you say it, her eyes shut tight. As if gathering courage, she takes a deep breath before taking deliberate steps to where you're standing. You never see it coming, but the next thing you know, Nana's soft lips are on yours, her delicate fingers keep you steady in place, and her vanilla scent fills your nose and overwhelms your senses that you can't think of anything at all but her.

It takes only half a second, but you melt into the kiss yourself. Your eyes flutter closed and start to forget the world around you in favor of the girl who stayed by your side. The space between the two of you grows smaller, your hands make their way to her waist, and you let your selfishness take over and keep her for yourself as well. 

The kiss breaks just as you hold her, and both your eyes shoot open to find hers just as wide as yours. 

“I-I, umm… I’m sorry, it was too sudden, and uhh…” It wasn't too hard to see how much she was stuttering, and if you weren't so surprised yourself you would've also joined her like the blushing mess she is right now.

The alcohol was starting to hit you again, and your better judgment slowly left you as you took her lips once more. You have no time to be surprised at how willing she is, and you resolve to just enjoy the kiss with her. You lead her to the edge of the bed and sit her down; and the first chance she gets, she lies back onto the mattress and pulls you with her. 

“If you really wanna know…” She flips to the last page of the notebook and shows you. It’s a simple picture, just two stick figures in a heart, holding hands. You don’t recognize the poster, but the quote is unmistakable: “You should be kissed, and often, by someone who knows how.”

“I’m glad we got to spend all this time together, and I know I keep thanking you, but I really am so happy…” Nana pulls you back in, and with your own sweet defiance, you trace kisses across her cheek and onto her neck. The whimpers that escape her are adorable, but at the same time they also confirm thoughts you’ve only ever tried to suppress: she likes you too. 

You go lower and lower, tracing kisses from her neck to nibbling her collarbone, and you settle right before you reach her chest. Her breath hitches when she figures out what you want to do, but ultimately her fingers rake comfortingly through your hair.

“So tonight… let me show you… let me thank you… properly.” Her eyes may look pure when she says those words, but with how you are inches away from her lips, with how you have been kissing her now, it's anything but.

She slowly pulls off her jacket, her eyes never leaving you. The fabric slides off of her arms, revealing the smooth skin of her slender arms. The next to go is her tank top; her fingers grip the hem lightly, tugging slowly upwards, showing you her toned tummy and milky skin. The hem rises higher and higher, until she stops right under her chest. 

“Are you sure?” Your question is breathless, not in the slightest bit annoyed, but your tone full of concern reaches her. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I know,” she says, the sound of her voice betraying a dry throat, “I love you.” She pulls the rest of her top off, and her boobs bounce freely in front of you. Nana takes your hands and places them on each, and asks you playfully, “Come on, you think I never caught you staring?”

She pulls you back in for a kiss, a proper one this time, the kind that quenches your thirst for her. She tries her best to wrap her tongue around yours, all the while you take your fill of her soft tits. Pinch and tweak her nipples, feel them stiffen as her tiny whimpers grow into careless moans. You never let up, delivering constant pleasure to her chest, and your surprise when you feel her palming your growing bulge is quickly replaced with anticipation. 

Her hand slips under your waistband and her moan fills your mouth when she feels how hot and hard your cock is for her. She wraps her fingers around your shaft and gives long, slow strokes, nothing that would make you cum on the spot, but just about enough to make you leak precum onto her palm. She relishes the feeling of your arousal on her skin, and as she picks up her pace, seemingly trying to entice you to do more, you’re left with no choice but to give her exactly what she wants. 

You work on unzipping your jeans and taking them off, and with Nana’s help, it feels like the second easiest job in the world. They fall to your ankles and you kick them away, and all of a sudden your cock rests on the skin of her luscious thigh. The heat and the precum that leaks onto her flesh surprises her, but her senses come back to her and she asks for a time out. 

“Gimme a sec, I have to breathe,” she gasps unsteadily. You get off her, wondering what you might have done wrong. Her breathing is ragged and she seems to not be able to focus on much else, but a reassuring look in her eyes lets you know she’s alright. 

“I just– I needed to see it.” Her gaze falls on your cock, and once she reaches and wraps her fingers around your shaft again, it throbs in her hand. A groan of pleasure escapes you, and she figures out that she’s doing something right. Her pumps start slow, gradually building up speed, all the while she brings her face closer and closer, and you don’t even notice it, but finally her lips meet the tip of your dick. Nana rubs your precum all over her lips like lipstick, and she takes your head in her mouth. 

Small groans come from your mouth feeling her soft lips, you enjoy much more than you thought, especially knowing how inexperienced you thought she was. Your hands meanwhile grab a part of hair, pulling it lightly, causing Nana to moan into your cock.

“Don't get mad if I do this wrong–” she says, her eyes fraught with worry. Despite this, she makes careful moves to give you the best possible experience. She seals her lips around your head, and she gives slow but deep sucks as she tries her hardest. 

“You’re– nngh– doing great,” you moan, the pleasure overtaking you. The eye contact you two share is enchanting; she’s undoubtedly a very pretty girl, and despite the amateur blowjob, she more than makes up for it with her enthusiasm. Her head bobs slightly, trying to take more of your length in, but her worry of choking keeps her from giving any more. 

On the other hand, she has no idea of the effect she has on you, and the sight of the gorgeous woman’s plump lips on your cock coupled with her eager attempts at making you feel good nearly sends you over the edge early. In an effort to stave off your orgasm for even just a little while longer, you regrettably pull her off of you. 

“What– what’s wrong? Wasn’t it good?” Again her words are coated with worry of disappointing you, but the way you look tenderly to her reassures her. 

“You are perfect, Nana,” you whisper into her ear. You lay her back onto the bed gently, and you let show your eagerness to please her too. You venture down until you’re level with her crotch, and you work slowly to peel off her thin shorts. As they leave her legs, you’re presented with a pastel blue pair of panties, though you can’t help but notice the growing wet spot right in the center and the scent of her arousal seeping through. It must be uncomfy, you think, and you strip it off of her as well. 

The garment leaves her and you look to Nana for approval: her finger between her teeth and her face red as a tomato, she looks at you with a loving gaze. Only then do you realize that Nana is now fully naked, everything bare for you and you alone, and the way her thighs rub together needily sends the message you’ve been dying to get. 

Part her legs, meeting little resistance as you do. Travel up from her knees to her thighs, planting kisses and light nibbles on the soft flesh of her legs. Hearing how she whimpers beneath your lips: “That feels really good… I want more…” 

Your lips finally meet her pussy, and the initial contact draws out a sultry moan from her. Each swipe of your tongue on her cunt causes more and more of her love juices to leak out, sending waves of ecstasy up her spine. She tries locking your head in place as she runs her fingers through your hair, all the while she grinds her crotch on your face as she chases her pleasure. 

“Yes, yes, yes! Fuck, you feel so good! I love you~!” Nana humps your face more and more roughly, and you take it as a sign that she’s close. Good thing as well, as you’re running out of air, but on the other hand you feel as though this wouldn't be the worst way to go. You run your tongue over her soaked pussy, taking slow, deep licks. 

She’s inching closer to her orgasm, her hips are bucking onto your mouth, your tongue meets her clit, she squeezes your head between her thighs, your lips seal around her swollen nub, she grabs your hair and pulls hard, and with a scream ripping through her throat, Nana squirts her love juices straight into your waiting mouth as you drink her essence up. Her scream turns into a drawn-out moan as she continues to grind on your face, making sure to pleasure herself enough to give you everything you’ve been working so hard for, and you lap every single drop of it up like it was the sweetest thing you’ve ever tasted. 

She releases her grip on your hair and head, and as she relaxes onto the bed her arms fall to the sides and her legs spread open. She lazily brings a hand to her pussy and rubs it, showing you just how good you made her feel, and she smiles up at you. 

“That was fucking amazing.” It couldn’t have sounded any sweeter, and the fact that it came from Nana, lying on her bed wearing nothing but a smile that you gave her, fills you with a sort of pride that you doubt you’d ever get again anywhere else in your life. But as she starts to get up, and she places her lips on yours, you feel another weight lifted off your chest. It’s another shade of her, one that shows you how she is when she’s content. It’s her way of telling you that among the hundreds of firsts she’s had in her life, she’s grateful that you were this one too. And as you kiss back, your hands finding their way to her hips, you connect with her again on a level that you never put into words before. “I love you too, Nana.”

Upon hearing, her kiss deepens and her tongue works harder to play with yours. She leans on you more, until finally you let yourself fall backwards, and Nana is right there, straddling you, with an innocent yet horny look in her eyes again.

“Your turn. Relax, okay?” She caresses your cheek, and suddenly you’re made conscious of how bad you’re probably blushing right now. Despite this, her smile never leaves her face as she continues to reassure you. She giggles at whatever expression it is that you’re showing her, and she gets to work. 

Nana reaches to her bedside table and opens a drawer, and from it she produces a peculiar box. “Remember when I ‘stole’ that candy bar?” She tears off the sticker on the edge of the box to open it, pulls out a little plastic square pouch, and tears it open with her teeth. “I… bought… the candy bar. This was what I stole.” She tugs on the contents of the pouch, and reveals a condom. 

“What the–” you start, but you soon stop in favor of moans caused by Nana’s handjob. “Don’t ever belittle me like that again, okay?” Her smile is again just as sweet and innocent as the first time you saw it, but now is completely different. It never leaves her face as she pulls the rubber over your cock, but not before giving it a few more cursory licks.

“Ready?” she asks, and you nod furiously. Finally, she aims the tip of your cock at her entrance and slowly sinks down onto you. “Oh, fuck, it’s so big,” she gasps. She takes her time taking in your length, feeling every vein against her pussy walls as you enter her tight pussy. She sucks air in through her teeth, her eyes shut tight, her fingernails leaving imprints on your chest as more and more of you slides into her unbelievably tight cunt. As she does, you feel her wet velvet walls rub your cock inside her, her slick spreading all over you and coating you with a warm you can’t describe. After what seemed like an eternity of bliss, she finally hilts, having taken everything inside her, and she sits on your crotch without moving, still trying to get used to the feeling of her pussy being so full. 

“You good?” you ask, genuinely concerned if she’s okay or not. Place a hand on her waist, pat to comfort her. Her eyes open slowly, almost releasing a tear, and panic rises in your chest. 

“Shit, shit, I’m sorry, do you need to get off? I–” you start, but she shuts you up with another kiss. It’s slow and gentle as it starts, just simple pecks, as she reassures you once again that she’s alright. Once she pulls away, she flashes you another smile, and you swear she gets more and more beautiful with each and every one. 

“I’m okay. Are you okay?” She traces circles on your cheek and neck, and all you could do is nod. She comes back in for another kiss, and this time it’s much deeper. She opens her mouth to moan, and you jump at the opportunity to swipe at her tongue too. She loves it, and once she’s comfy enough, she starts to hump against you as well.

“It’s really really good. Do you feel good?” Her question snaps you out of your daze, but you only nod as you fight off cumming too early. Not long after that, you note she’s had her fill as she pulls away from you. Her posture straightens and she sits on you properly again, this time determined to return the favor and blow your mind. She takes in a deep breath, braces herself, and lifts herself up carefully. Your breath hitches, watching her naked figure on top of you, and you admire the way her sweat collects in drops before they slide down between her breasts. She notices you staring again, and she brings your hands up to her chest, moaning at the first moment of contact. Your instincts overtake you; you push yourself off the bed to her boobs and start to suck. Your lips seal around her nipples and she runs her fingers through your hair as she tries to push you deeper into her delicious breast. 

“Shit, don’t stop,” Nana pleads, and you continue kneading the flesh of her boobs more, sucking when and where you can. At that moment, she forces herself back down onto your dick, taking in everything again all at once. Her walls part suddenly, and once she settles her warm pussy walls squeeze your cock as tight as she can. She begins bouncing, her moans never stopping, and you find a rhythm: each time Nana brings herself down, you thrust up to meet her halfway. The first time you do, you reach a depth to her that neither of you thought was possible, and the heat from her sex with her slick drive the pair of you insane with pleasure. 

She keeps bouncing on your cock as her lewd moans gradually grow louder and louder with each of your thrusts into her needy core. Her eyes roll to the back of her head, her pussy tightens again, and just as you deliver a perfectly-timed bite to her nipple, another scream rakes out of her throat as her second orgasm overtakes her. Her pussy convulses as her hips buck again and again on your cock, her thighs and tits jiggle seductively, and her tightness reaches new heights as if she wants to keep your cock inside her forever. Despite this, you never stop thrusting her, never stop making love to her, and you cover her chest in kisses while you lick up all her sweat. 

You never give her a chance to catch her breath, and soon enough, an unknowable number of seconds or minutes past, you feel your own orgasm coming. You take one last look at her godly figure and divine visuals, and you finally succumb.

Hold her close, hold her tight. She’s made it clear that she doesn’t want you getting away, so you only return the desire. Keep thrusting into her, forget about how she’s losing her mind. She’s gone, lost in her own pleasure, and there’s no point in bringing her back yourself. Instead, follow her. Send yourself over the edge and join her in her ecstasy.

You momentarily lose your flow of consciousness as flashes of white fill your eyes, but you’re snapped back to reality with Nana pulling at your hair. Only then do you realize; you’re actually cumming inside her. With each spurt, you thrust into her as your cock twitches against her slick walls. The cumulative heat from your cum sends just the right signals to Nana’s body, and it sends back the equivalent of screams of desperation at the illusion of breeding. Your pumps are harsh and careless – thank the stars you’re wearing a condom – but Nana is too far lost to care past the unholy pleasure you deliver to her. 

“Fuck, fuck! Aaaahhh!!!!” You feel her tighter, as if clamping down on your cock, her cunt pulsating and the connection between the two of you growing wetter, slicker. Despite this, you never let up, hell-bent on giving her everything you have. One spurt turns into two, then four, then six. It didn’t matter, none of it did. It could have been the end of the world and you wouldn’t have minded. All that was important was the girl sitting on your lap, losing her mind.

As both of your orgasms die down, the pair of you fall to the mattress. You stare at each other, wide-eyed and out of breath, and all you can do is smile and giggle at each other. As each of you catch your breath, the world quiets down, and all that’s left in existence is just you and Nana. 

“Wow,” she sighs, “nice.” Her smile grows wide again, and her hand once more finds your cheek to caress.

“Yeah, nice.” You laugh back at her, the adrenaline fading quickly. “Does that check the thing off your list?”

“Oh, yeah!” Nana jolts up and off the bed, or at least attempts to. Instead, she falls back next to you, and only then do you realize the fatigue rendering your bodies useless. 

“So… we good?” There’s nowhere else to look but right to her. Nana’s beautiful, round, just a bit teary eyes gaze back at you with adoration and love, something you never thought you’d have for yourself in this magnitude. And yet, here you are, and here she is, as if nothing else mattered. 

“Shit. That was crazy. Anyway, yeah. Thanks.” With her last ounce of strength, she comes in for one more kiss. She collapses in your arms, cuddled right up to your chest, and you can imagine she could hear how loud your heart was thumping, just like hers. 

Catch her snoring an adorable snore, wrap her in an embrace that would protect her from the worst the world could throw at her. A small thought in your head says you want to keep her safe forever like this, but you know better: she’s a strong woman who can take care of herself. Think back to how lucky you are, and how you walked this journey with her. Recall how she was just a fearful nobody when you first met, remember how you watched her grow into the amazing person she is now. 

Your eyelids grow heavy, and you realize your waking seconds left are numbered. Right before you drift off to sleep yourself, you hear her, in the tiniest voice ever, mumbling her confession: “Stay with me.”

“Go to sleep, Nana.” You smile and turn your head toward hers, arms wrapped around her waist. 

“Not without a promise.” Her own eyes are half-lidded, and you can tell she’s fighting back her drowsiness as hard as she can. She tries blinking the sleep away, but it only works marginally.

You could say anything to her at all right now, anything in the world, but there’s really only two things that need to be put into words. Your mind rushes at a snail’s pace, and you reach for faraway ideas when the right one is just in front of you. In your mind only one question appears: “So is this like…a one time thing?” 

In response Nana just leans in and kisses your cheek, then giggles. “Would me saying ‘I love you’ outside of sex prove it?” she asks playfully, her tone betraying her desire for rest.

“Touché.” One hand goes to her soft blonde hair, brushing it to the side. “But in my defence, suddenly kissing me and then getting me naked was not the first thing I expected when you said there was ‘one last thing’ in your bucket list,” you state matter-of-factly.

You share a bout of tired laughter for a moment, and then you both look at each other with pure eyes, as if you two compete to see who can make the other blush first. Decidedly, Nana loses while she confesses. “I used to think that college was supposed to be all rose-colored, that it was to be the peak of my life. But spending it with you, I learned that it doesn’t have to be all grand milestones to live through.” The air in the room swirls differently, replacing stale breaths with new ones from the open window. 

“That time you cheered me on during the open mic, how you looked at me… It made me realise that after everything’s said and done, I wanted peace. And I can feel peace with you, without all the guilt of past mistakes, nor ghosts of regret that would’ve haunted me for the rest of my life,” she says, now leaning toward your ear muttering, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whisper back, smiling from ear to ear. Eventually you both released the hug. Look around her room for your clothes, which was surprisingly hard for how your sex wasn't too feral, and in turns take showers to clean yourselves up.

As you get out of the shower, fully cleaned and with some good-enough-for-sleep clothes, you find Nana on her bed fully knocked out. You simply laugh and join her, and her instinct leads her to wrap her arms around your waist while her head leans into your chest.

“Goodnight, Nana,” you whisper with finality, as if ending the night on a perfect note. Peck her forehead and close your own eyes, and fall into slumber just as deep as hers.

Bucket List Completed

“Argh, I’m so excited!” She grips you by your collar and shakes you as she screams, jolting away any sleep you wished to get. 

Two months have come and gone, and while you know it hasn’t been long, things have changed so much. Despite you trying to get just a bit more sleep in the backseat of the taxi, Nana right next to you can’t stop bouncing in hers as the sights outside the window pass her by.

“Okay, okay. Just get all this energy out before we get on the plane, please?”

She returns her attention to the window just as the taxi slows to a halt. Your new girlfriend practically throws open the door and leaps out, heading straight for the trunk to retrieve your luggage. 

“Hurry up! We might miss our flight!” She struggles lifting her comically large suitcase before you hear it hits the concrete pavement followed by its handle extending with its clack-clack-clack. 

“Hawaii isn’t going anywhere, Nana, please,” you mutter as you lazily exit the cab. You hand the driver your fare, and he reaches out to accept. As he does, he gives you a knowing smirk and tips his hat to you, as if saying “good luck.”

Turning around, you find Nana with all of your luggage too, eagerly awaiting your arm for her to cling to before you make your way inside. The hustle and bustle of Incheon International Airport fills her with a deep sense of excitement, and honestly, who could blame her? Your girlfriend is in the midst of all these other people — travelers, tourists, adventurers — and she fits right in. It’s the most natural thing for her now, to find herself in new situations that broaden her horizons and make her feel alive. 

She yanks you to her side in line for the desk, holding her brand-new polaroid camera at a high angle. “Cheese!” she screams, not far enough from your ear, but with how happy she is, you can’t help but smile her smile too. “Our first overseas trip! This is the first time I’m leaving Seoul, let alone Korea!” 

“Okay, Nana, calm down,” you chuckle, but you know she won’t. Divert her attention instead, put her energy to good use. “Do you have your passport? Carry on? Pink notebook?”

Though you both are sure she hasn’t missed anything, Nana rummages through her bag again anyway. “Check, check, and check! How could I forget?” She takes each item to show to you, and she flips through the pink notebook once it’s in her hand.

One thing about Nana, she never lets the moment escape her anymore. Once she sets out to do something, she’ll do everything in her power to accomplish that goal. This is no different, and you love her so much for it.

After looking through the notebook, she claps it shut. She flashes you the drawing of a gray bucket on its front cover before it disappears back into her carry on, and you both are reminded that a part of who you are as a couple is just that: a notebook that predicts the future by rooting itself in the present. Sadly, a weeklong trip won’t be enough for everything on her list this time, but who’s to say you’re not coming back eventually? 

And at the end of the trip, you have it ready, the best gift you could give her: a little green notebook, every left-side page filled with things you want to do, and the corresponding right side page blank, all for her. And on the very last leaf, where the cardboard of the back cover accompanies it, is a drawing of a ring, with the words: “I’ll be taking my time, spending my life, falling deeper in love with you.”

“Come on, hurry!” She yanks again, snapping you out of your wistful thoughts. “We’re gonna miss the plane!” Nana pulls you to the gate just as the intercom announces your flight has begun boarding. “Alright, alright! Easy,” you chuckle again, and you can’t believe this is the same girl behind the gym crying her eyes out alone just last year. Funny how people change like that, but at the same time, it’s impossible to think that Nana would ever stay the same.

================================================

Thank you all for watching, it has been a long time working on it and we are really happy it is finally out, hope yall had a good read with this one,

i will see you all next time leafies~

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

To be alone with you 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, power imbalance, cheating, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your babysitting gig becomes complicated. (f!plus sized!reader)

Character: dilf!Clark Kent

Note: who predicted 2024 would be the year I converted to Cavill.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

The blinds are drawn as you hug your pillow with one arm. Your body is stiff as you sleep with one leg hooked around your blankets, the bottom of one cheek exposed to the steady blow of AC. You shiver and roll onto your back, pulling the covers around you fully.

The night before is a vague shadow in your mind. You remember starting the movie but not much else. You’d been so tired after the break-in, you must’ve passed out almost immediately. You feel bad, hoping that Clark doesn’t take it to heart.

You push yourself up. Your head is thick and full with sleep. You haven't slept like this in forever. Your mouth is dry but tangy. You swallow the gritty morning and cough, turning to dangle your legs over the edge.

Your striped shorts are crooked and wrinkly and your tee shirt smells like sweat. Ugh. You're a mess. 

You stand and lumber around clumsily. You grab a change of clothes and try to stretch out the kinks as you cross the hall to the bathroom. You close the door and put your clothes on the counter, facing your reflection.

You look rough. You feel just as bad. You turn on the cold water and splash it over your face before you brush your teeth, scraping out the stale taste stuck to your tongue. You turn on the shower and undress, wincing as your thighs meet.

You must be close to your time of the month. You get a bit sensitive. It would explain your fatigue and the soreness. Great. 

You step into the glass booth and wash yourself. The warm water is soothing against your stiff muscles. God, you really hurt. You reach down to touch your folds, checking your fingers for blood.

PMS is a bitch. Not enough to bleed for a week, your body has to gaslight you into thinking you are already.

After, you pull on the fresh clothes but hardly feel more awake. Just sluggish and achy. Coffee. You don't live off it like your sister but you need it in that moment.

Thinking of, where is your sister? Not too unusual for her to he errant but it's been a few days.

As you come downstairs, you hear snoring rumbling through the first floor. You slow and tiptoe into the front room. You cautiously approach the couch and find Clark, arms crossed, sleeping on his side, cramped into the small space as he slumbers. The small throw stretched over his shoulders. 

Your stomach pits. You're certain he'd much rather be at home in his own bed. Your guilt keeps you from disturbing him.

You creep into the kitchen, making your movement muted and staggered. You flip the switch on the kettle and wait as it hums. You load the french press with grinds and teeter on your toes, dancing nervously around the tile. 

You pour the boiling water into the press and check the time on the stove. You give it time to brew and lean on the island, listlessly cupping your chin and tapping your cheek with your fingertips. As you blow out, you hear the floorboards and stand up to greet Clark as he enters. 

His hair is askew, eyes droopy, and the blanket still draped around his neck. You didn't realise before he hadn't been wearing a shirt. His pajamas hang low on his stomach, the dark hair across his chest and trailing down his stomach exposed shamelessly. You gulp and focus on his face. 

“Smells like coffee,” he grins crookedly, “morning.”

“Morning, uh, I hope I didn't wake you up,” you squeak.

“Not at all,” he waves you off, “you passed out so quick, I figured you'd be up and at em. Besides, Jonny’s an early riser.”

“Oh, okay,” you turn to press down the plunger on the press, “I'm sorry I zonked out so fast–”

There's less resistance than you expect and the coffee splashes up and overflows, splashing your hands as you recoil with a yipe. You try to shake it off but a particular spot on the back of your hand singes badly. Before you can think, Clark has your arm and angles you to the sink as he flips on the cold water.

He guides your hand under, crowding you as your arm shakes in pain. You hiss even as the water soothes. 

“Oh, I'm so clumsy,” you murmur.

“As long as you're okay,” he slowly lets you go, “you let me take care of this.”

He swipes up the dish towel and sops up the errant drops of coffee. He dries off the outside of the press and patiently pushes down the plunger. You turn off the water and use a fresh towel on your hands.

He faces you, “blistering?”

You look at your hand, “just tender.”

“You're lucky I'm here,” he chortles, “scare away all the bad men and take care of your burns.”

“Ha, yeah, I–”

“Mm, something smells like cherry blossoms,” he interrupts, sniffing the air, his blue eyes narrowing on you, “is that you?”

“Um, yeah,” you catch a wafting scent from your body, “that's my body soap. Oh no, is it setting you off?”

“Not at all,” he smiles, “I was more worried about you.”

“Ah, no, it's fine. The soap doesn't trigger me surprisingly.”

“Hm,” he leans on the counter, gripping the edge as you notice how his stomach muscles clench, “I bought Lois some cherry blossom soap once. She never used it. Guess it isn't her scent.”

“Not for everyone I guess,” you turn and open a cupboard, taking down two mugs.

“Mm, yeah,” he agrees dully, “well, I should call your dad over my coffee,” he pushes himself straight and nears, stopping right beside you as you pour into the cups, “maybe after we can go get breakfast. My treat.”

“Oh, you don't have to–”

“I want to. Kinda weird not having Jonny around, looking fir a distraction,” he accepts a mug as you slide it over to him.

“Makes sense,” you say, “well, who am I to deny a free meal?”

🏡

After searching your coffee cup for an ounce of strength, you give in to the persistent glaze in your eyes. Maybe eating will help. Clark's offer is generous, almost too generous, yet your stomach clenches at the thought of food.

You grab your purse and head down to find Clark. He's in the kitchen, rinsing his mug, your own forgotten on your night stand. He dries it and puts it away as you wait for him to notice you.

“Did you talk to my dad?” You ask.

“Yeah, actually, couldn't get through. They must be on the road. Service gets spotty, right?” He hangs the dish towel neatly, “so you ready? I gotta stop by my place and change but then we can eat.”

“Sure, uh, well, you know, if it's too much…”

“Not at all, I'm excited. There's this place I've been meaning to try for a while but Lois hasn't felt like it,” he says, “tried calling her too. Think she's still mad at me.”

“Oh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kent.”

“Clark,” he corrects you, “you make me feel so old.”

“Sorry,” you apologize again.

“It's fine,” he shrugs, “we should get going. I'm starving.”

“Not gonna lie, me too.”

“Must've been all the salty snacks last night,” he kids.

🏡

After you stop at the Kents', you set off for breakfast. The more you think about it the hungrier you are. You grow restless as you watch several options pass by, holding your tongue as Clark keeps driving.

You're surprised as he passes the city limits and you shift in your seat, craning to watch the sign pass. He clears his throat and turns down the radio, "almost there. Guess I shoulda mentioned it's all the way out here."

"Nah, it's fine," you shrug, "just curious."

"Really cute place, locally owned," he explains, "I prefer to give my money to an honest family business, you know?"

"Totally get it," you say coolly.

He taps his fingers on the wheel, as if he's restless or even agitated. He pulls into a gravel lot off the country road and you look up at the painted side. You passed this place with your parents a few times but never pulled over. It's a quaint brunch restaurant in a cottage-style house.

"Oh, this place," you chuckle.

"You been here?" He asks.

"No, but I've seen it."

"Right," he intones and clicks free his seat belt.

You free yourself of your own seat belt and climb out as he mirrors you. You let him take the lead and follow him to the front door. He holds it open and you enter ahead of him. You're greeted inside by an elderly lady.

"Good morning, may I show you to a table?" She offers.

You nod as Clark gives a vocal response over your head. She leads you to a table for two. You notice the place isn't very busy. There's an older man in the corner drinking coffee over a newspaper but no one else.

You sit as she introduces herself as Lena and promises menus. She shuffles away as you look at Clark who seems enamoured with the place. He admires the painting of flowers not far from your table and the lacy curtains around the front windows. It's cute but a bit outdated.

"There ya go, honies," she lays two menus on the table, her knobby hands shaking, "would you like coffee or tea?"

"Coffee, please, and..." he looks at you.

"Green tea, please."

"Coffee and green," she repeats, "lovely."

She hobbles away and you shift awkwardly in your seat. She must be the only waitress. In a place like this, you're not surprised. You just hope the food is decent, not that you can be picky.

"This place is nice," he muses, "peaceful."

"Yeah, it's interesting," you say as you pick up the menu. 

"I'm glad you got some sleep," he takes his own menu and browses it lazily, "glad I could be there to keep an eye out. Protect you."

"Ah, well, yeah, I don't think they guy would come back anyway but it did help," you give a small smile and settle on eggs benedict.

"Great," he puffs out his chest just a little. 

You peek up at him. It must be a good distraction for him. With Lois and Jonny gone, he needs something to keep him busy. You can humour him.

"Here ya go, sweets," Lena returns with a mug off coffee and a teacup on a saucer. She places both shakily and stands as straight as she can to ask if you've decided on what you want.

Clark lets you order first and you speak loudly and slowly to the woman as she cups her ear. She repeats it back to you before listening aptly to Clark. When she's done, she gives a soft clap and goes back behind the counter. She scribbles on a piece of paper and puts it in the window.

You glance over at the window, distracting yourself with the blowing grass. Somehow out here, you don't feel the same tickle in your sinuses. You sit back and cross your arms, watching the lazy blue sky.

"Oh, it's so romantic, a nice breakfast for two," Lena startles you as she appears again. She places a candlestick in the middle of the table then puts a wax taper in it. You can only stare and share look with Clark as she lights it, "you are so darling together. Is it a special occasion?"

"Uh," you bite your lip and look at Clark.

"Just breakfast," he answers as he throws his hands up, "spur of the moment, you know?"

"That's precious," she squeals, "you are such a beautiful pair."

"Thanks," Clark says and you just smile awkwardly.

She winks and leaves once more. You watch her cross the restaurant and sit with the old man and his newspaper. He lowers it as she whispers to him. You turn back and face Clark, leaning forward.

"I think she thinks we're together," you keep your voice quiet, "like a couple."

"Eh yeah, I didn't want it to be awkward," he shrugs, "no harm in it, really."

Your mouth slants as you consider his response. You guess he's right. What will it hurt? She's just a lonely old woman.

"What?" He tilts his head.

"Nothing," you answer.

"Really? I mean, I could correct her if it's a big deal--"

"It's not, really," you lean forward and cross your arms over the table, "just funny, I guess. Second time it's happened."

"It is?" He furrows his thick brows.

"Yeah, the ice cream guy..." you trail off, "whatever. Just... I'm kinda young but maybe don't look it."

"It's flattering, really," he insists, "people really think I could be with someone like you."

"Well, I mean, Lois is gorgeous," you laugh, "so..."

"Lucky man, surrounded by beautiful women," he grins.

“Oh, uh, thanks,” you sit back awkwardly, not expecting the compliment. You're nothing like Lois, love handles excluded, you still couldn't compare. You're just the babysitter. “Thanks, that's… you don't have to say that.”

“Well, you are,” he rubs his neck bashfully.

“Ha, yeah, well…” you clasp your hands in your lap and look again out the window.

As you watch the horizon over the dusty road, your heart roils in the tension. There's something nipping at your mind, just on the edge of your memory but you just can't grasp it. Is he just being nice or is there something more behind his compliments?

Don't be silly, he doesn't see you like that. He couldn't.

[amuseoffyre]

Since insomnia is kicking my arse of late, I naturally tilted into the thoughts about the nature of the 3-act structure and why S2 of OFMD may have felt off and incomplete to a lot of people.

I am fully in agreement that we lost a lot of valuable time with only 8 episodes and a lot of it did feel rushed, but for the amount of story and set-up and growth and development they needed to fit into 4 hours of television, they did astonishing things.

DJenks has said from the very start that this is a story that has been planned out to take 3 seasons. It's literally a 3-act play and we are currently right in the middle of the worst part of that timeline according to every traditional 3-act structure.

Act one/season one is self-explanatory. Like New Hope in the Star Wars Trilogy or Fellowship of the Ring, this is the set-up. We're introduced to our protagonists and antagonists, the relationships are given a foundation.

The beginning is Stede's journey to becoming a real boy. The inciting incident, the one that actually pushes his change beyond "playing pirates" is meeting Ed. The second thoughts come together in episode 8/9 after his confrontations with Jack and Chauncey and episode 10 is the climax.

Act 2/season 2 is never going to be as smooth and simple as act 1/s1. A big part of the A2/S2 job is set up for A3/S3 and this is what we're seeing and why a lot of story threads seem to have been left dangling.

Again, to call back to Empire Strikes Back and The Two Towers, the structure is much the same: the original batch of people are divided and scattered, the big enemy from A1/S1 is looming, new allies make themselves known. In SW, this meant the introduction of Lando and Yoda as allies plus the hint of the Emperor lurking in the background. In LotR, we have the Rohirrim, Gondor and the Ents as allies and the expansion of Sauron's forces in Helm's Deep, Osgiliath and the winged wraiths.

There's a clear trajectory following the A2/S2 structure:

obstacle 1 - the crews separated and struggling

obstacle 2 - the end of episode 2 and the repercussions of his actions

twist - just when things start to settle, the Ned Low situation happen and Stede kills for the first time

obstacle 3 - Ed's struggle with his identity leading to him leaving

disaster - Ricky's assault on the Republic

crisis - do-or-die battle because they have no other choice

climax - the last 15 minutes of ep. 8 live here.

As with SW and LotR, there's an ending, but weighted with the knowledge of a story that is meant to continue. Each of those act 2 films end with the heroes still aware of the looming threat, some of them heading out on new missions, and some of them resting and healing. There's brief pause, brief respite, a moment to take a breath.

We have all the characters in place now and the battle-lines have been drawn. Luke still needs to confront Vader (I see you, impending Ed and Hornigold confrontation), Frodo still needs to destroy the ring, Aragorn still needs to lead the army against the Black Gate, the second Death Star is still hanging in the sky.

I'm so excited to see what S3 brings because we have so many arcs ready to go: Zheng's vengeance trip, the inevitable enforced out-of-retirement arc for Ed and Stede, Hornigold, Ricky trying to maintain his tenuous control of the republic given how many of his people were killed when the crew escaped, the pirate rebellion gathering forces.

Also how often do we get shows/films where the supporting cast are given this much storyline? We have a named/speaking-role cast of upwards of 15 central characters. That is a staggering amount of people to work with, when most shows would only focus on the leads and a couple of their friends. Six is the average for most TV shows, while comedies can inch higher because ensembles, but most ensembles don't get as much as our crew did.

I know a lot of people aren't happy about Izzy's death. I know I would have liked to see him a lot more, because he's such a grumpy old bitch and I love him and him affectionately roasting Ed and Stede would have made my entire month. But I'm also aware that narratively, as a figurehead of the old ways of piracy and "we were Blackbeard", it was a symbolic death as well - a sign of the death of the old ways of piracy and of Blackbeard as was.

(Also, they Obi-Wanned him. I'm not over that. Gave him the "if you strike me down I will become more powerful" speech. I'm just... guys, your star wars nerdery is showing XD)

So while it was flawed in places and pacing, given the scale of the story they're telling, the number of pieces and characters they had in play, and the arcs they have been setting up while also still keeping the humour, I am giving a standing ovation for a remarkable piece of work.

[kerubimcrepin]

LIVEBLOG: Wakfu Season 4, Episode 13 [PART 1]

I wonder what Joris's opinion on Tristepin abandoning post is. It'e either "thank god I don't have two Iops to wrangle" or "well at least the the one that's less likely to be killed is here" or "FOR FUCK'S SAKE NOT THIS FUCKING GUY"

Stealth mission with an iop by your side sounds like a whole new type of hell on earth.

It's very brief, but at this moment (5:50 in the episode), we can see Joris and Goultard going up the stairs.

The demons in my head are, once again, telling me to keep screenshotting him.

Trying to get her out is a pretty delicate balance, considering his strength. Joris is probably quite aware of the possibility that he might accdentally hurt her.

There's no fucking way Joris doesn't want Goultard to die a gruesome, violent death.

He's imagining Goultard's face instead of the rock... Seething and malding in silence.

GET SCARED.

DIDN'T EVEN HAVE THE TIME TO DODGE. HEHEHEHE

at least he's a good teammate, when he's not calling Joris slurs as a joke.

Not him looking down at them. BITCH WORK!!

Once again, I am compelled to take screenshots. It cannot be helped.

I will be honest, the sudden influx of content where Joris and Goultard are portrayed as friends — like drinking together, or going on missions together — in the fandom has been very weird, because I think what became very clear in this season is that Goultard is an iop who treats people in an iop way (for iops it's just normal to roughouse each other) while Joris is a man who has been infantilized for 600 years, doesn't want to be friends with anyone except people who never question his intelligence (like Yugo and Amaliaa), and wants to kill himself whenever his height is pointed out. and also has 2 drinking buddies already (who shower him in praise at how righteous and heroic and smart he is).

Literally fundamentally incompatible personalities. Joris can barely stand to be here, and the only thing uniting them is "we're immortal and don't want the world to end". If he could, Joris would slip rat poison into whatever Goultard is eating or drinking — because he knows that while it will not kill him, it will make him feel Bad. 😭

Maybe I'm weird, but I don't really like it when characters' discomfort of being treated cruelly is taken as something cute or funny or a Friendship thing...

(Attention: I am not bashing anyone, but expressing my personal opinion)

DFGJSDFKLGHSDKJFGHDSFKJG

you can tell that Joris is not having a good time. he's at his fucking limit. first he let loose with a "if you only knew :) how many people :) have degraded me the same way :) for all my life :)" and now an explicit "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!!!!"

I really do think he's imagining Goultard's head here.

:)

As someone insane enough to have drawn maaany comparisons between Nora&Efrim and Joris this season, I think he has a soft spot for her by now. She's been through a lot...

And I think Joris understands what it's like, to feel guilty, because of something horrible happening — even if it's not necessarily your fault; besides that, I think they both have very closely matched temperaments — they're both introspective and a bit embittered.

In a kinder universe, Nora and Joris could have been besties. And Nora could have gone to his house for tea. The two of them could probably speak very quietly to one another about some interesting, sad things.

And then Kerubim could have a post-divorce stress disorder-related heart palpitations due to seeing a pink haired woman IRL inside his house unannounced.

Basically, I NEED NORA&JORIS FRIENDSHIP FANART HI?!

Basically: I have crazy levels of brainworms about this (and about Eva trying to sacrifice herself for her family, but there are so many screenshots in this post already...)

Of COURSE he'd stand guard for her.

I'm fucking CRAZY and INSANE.

HIS SMILE HERE!! HE'S SO PROUD OF HER!!! HE BELIEVES IN HER!!!!!!

[bowtiepastabitch]

Fandom Tumblr, Do Your Thing

Mutuals, strangers, people I've force-friended by making silly fanart of your posts. Lend me your ears for like, ten seconds.

For less than the price of a cup of coffee (or for free!!) I will personally send you a custom piece of hand drawn one-of-a-kind art. So long as you give me a reference image of some kind, I will draw just about anything.* For you. At no cost. And I will send it to you in the mail, aka the coolest way to get art. All you have to do is:

1.Donate to @phoen1xr0se's mutual aid fund for housing for her and her two kids!

2.DM me a screenshot of your receipt

3.Provide me with your address** and your drawing prompt

4.Wait for your art to arrive:)

OR

1.Reblog this post. You can literally just reblog this post. When her fundraiser is completed, I will pick 2-5 blogs from the notes (depending on how many rbs I get) to send you art completely for free. If you get picked, I will get in contact to get your information.

Full information, terms, conditions, et cetera, are further down. Please do read them before sending money.

~~~

Laura, aka PhoenixRose, is a mutual of mine and an incredible writer. She's a total sweetheart, and she's kind of adopted a lot of the Good Omens fandom and has really been a light in the community. She is unable to work due to cancer, so this fundraiser is to help ensure that her family has a safe and stable place to live. You can find out more about her lovely family and situation at the link or on her page<3

Rules and stuff: I live in the united states, so international shipping is a bit pricy. As such, the minimum to redeem a postcard is £5 for US addresses and £10 for all other addresses, in UK currency, with proof of payment in UK or your local currency. Higher donation amounts will get you more effort into your art, and for any donations over £50 I will break out the paints. You can click here to see some of the fanart I've done recently, though my higher quality original art doesn't usually end up on my blog so it may be a bit skewed as to representing my skill level. That said, I am an artist in the loosest sense of the term and really only do this for fun. Please don't expect professional results. Additionally, I am receiving no money whatsoever for this (stamps are out of my pocket), and it's important to me that you know that. I've already donated all I can afford to, so this is my broke bitch way of helping out a little more. If you get picked to get art for free, your dms will need to be turned on so I can reach you. If I am unable to get in contact with you via DMs or asks, that will be considered a forfeit.

*I really will draw just about anything, including characters, ocs, animals, your pets, your friends, your fursona, etc. No explicit NSFW please, suggestive is okay. I reserve the right to ask you to pick something different if the prompt makes me uncomfortable or is offensive in any way.

**I want to keep your information as safe as possible. As such, if you're not comfortable sending over dms I can provide you with my email address to send the information to. I am also open to sending it digital if you are in a position where you cannot currently receive physical mail or are uncomfortable doing so. All messages, emails, etc with personal information will be deleted as soon as your mail is on its way.

[dollwrites]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 — 𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐳𝐚

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!Muzan’s favorite!reader, grudgefucking, degradation, akaza’s damaged ego, choking, very brief broken bones, reader’s simpy, toxic vibes, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ run from me by guccihighwaters

“‘Worthless.’ What does he know about worthless?” Akaza’s teeth were clenched tight, grinding. brows drawn close together, eyes ablaze with hatred. “I do everything for him. Dedicate my existence to Lord Muzan and his fucking goals.” he was talking to himself, working himself up into a hotter rage than when he’d first grabbed you. your knees dig into the dirt, and you claw helplessly at the bark of the tree he’s pinned you against, the rough edges scraping at your face. you couldn’t moan loud enough to drown out his growling, or the sound of his hips snapping against yours, but you didn’t want to. you relished in the sound of just how wet he made you, and how you squelched when he plowed into you. if you could manage to hold yourself steady, you would release the tree and reach behind to spread your ass cheeks to open your body up for him completely— to take you however he wanted. but Akaza was fucking you too hard, pounding you relentless against the massive trunk. so, you’d had to simply hold on for dear life.

“Ah…” you mewled, trying to push back to meet his vigorous thrusting. it was futile, you couldn’t even begin to match his rhythm. “Akaza, forget about what Muzan said, just fuck me—“

“Shut up,” he hisses, one hand snaking around your throat to hold on to it with a tight vice, the other planted firm against your spine, forcing an unnatural arch for your position. there was a defensiveness in his growl, as if his loyalty was tested vicariously through your words. “You’re part of the problem, you know that? The way he fawns over you in front of us. You’re not even Kizuki,” his numbered eyes coast over the shape he’s put your body in, and slide upwards to see your gems— he was right. you weren’t one of the twelve demon moons; your body couldn’t take enough of Muzan’s blood to give you a ranking. “Makes me sick.” the smallest croak escapes your parted lips as he squeezes, and you bend to his will, dropping your head back to watch him. though you’re perched on your knees, he’s not. balancing on the balls of his feet, his knees are spread wide to avoid getting in the way of his furious hips.

his grip on your throat was tight enough that, had you still been human, breathing would’ve been impossible. you would’ve suffocated, but right now, you weren’t scared of Akaza.

you adored him.

you always had.

even if he didn’t feel the same, even if he never would, you would love him forever, you’d decided. there was much to love about him. his loyalty, his strength, the heart stopping curve of his lips over sharp, white fangs. the way his baritone whistled through the night like velvet.

you wanted to protest for him, tell him that you never asked or even wanted the king of demons to treat you like a fragile doll, a daughter to dote on, but you knew it would only make him angrier. he hated that you loathed Muzan and yet the demon lord would never so much as raise his voice to you, but would turn right around and cut an upper moon down for a sloppy job. besides, judging by just how mercilessly he was fucking you, you could assume that it wasn’t coincidental that he’d tracked you down right after reporting to Muzan; he’d wanted to destroy something, and you were the perfect candidate— Muzan’s adopted daughter. it’s a shame Muzan would kill him if he ever found out, but you knew you’d take it to the grave if you had to.

“Weak, little bitch.” he snarls, clamping down harder on your neck, and you swoon, your nails digging into the tree trunk harder. bark splinters and erupts from the trunk, crackling as your fingers sink into the wood. you didn’t have the strength to claw the whole tree apart, but you were chipping away at it. “What’s he see in you, anyways?” his angle changes; he slides one foot forward to scoot closer, press his torso to your back, and pump into your cunt deeper. you squeal, but only for a moment, before his other hand comes up from the other side of your head to clamp his hand over your mouth and muffle the sound. “That— that’s what I’m talking about. You can’t even take a cock without screaming my fucking ear off. Are you so fucking pathetic that you can’t even take it quiet like a decent cocksleeve? You have to squeal and whine?” your breasts ground into the harsh bark as he presses you closer to the foliage, golden eyes gleaming in the pale moonlight that illuminates the sordid display. you nod, looking back at him with nothing but twinkling adoration and affection in your heavily lidded gaze, squeaking slurred as you’re forced to kiss his palm.

you couldn’t help it, the upper moon was decimating your body in a way so delicious, you had to cry out. it was the type of brutal fucking that made you grateful you’d become a demon— lest you never be able to experience a love this cruel.

your walls were clenching around him just as merciless, spasming, stretching around his girth and hugging tight, refusing to let him pull out. “Fuck,” he grunted, a moment’s weakness allowing the moan to slip out of his lips, and he immediately hisses. brows cinching tighter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re so needy. You want it so bad? Take it, then.” his hips flurry at a nearly incomprehensible speed and velocity, pounding you over and over into the wood. you scream in vulgar delight and surprise, your body yielding to whatever he wanted to do to it, but that only makes him more enraged. his fist clenches around your throat, and you hear a snap. a rush of shock and pain floods your senses and you realize he’s crushed your trachea. a whistle, a choke escapes you, eyes welling up with tears, but he didn’t stop.

and you didn’t want him to.

it only took a matter of seconds for the bones to heal, cracking as they shift back into their proper place. Akaza’s hand had abandoned your throat, and instead pressed on top of his other one on your mouth, using it now as leverage to keep you pinned in place to fill you with reckless abandon with impossible force.

“P—please—“ you whimper against his hand, batting tears away with your thick lashes, “don’t st— don’t stop—!”

“Tch,” it’s not a word, is a puff of air forced through his teeth, an exclamation of disgust, but you can’t help but moan, eyelids fluttering. you can feel how hard he is, even as he degrades you, he’s swollen and throbbing in your guts. “You look so pitiful, struggling to take me, but you love the abuse so much you can’t even keep your eyes open.” you were nodding to every word, hugging the tree to keep from slouching back against him. his fucking was maddening, and you couldn’t pretend that it wasn’t. “What would He think if he saw you like this? He… He chews me up and spits me out, but you’re there,” it’s getting harder and harder for him to speak, his moans cutting in every so often, as he relishes in how you submit for him, “you’re here to spread your fucking legs, eh? You— you want me to fuck all my humiliation out? Fuck away the anger? Right into your weak, little body? As if you could handle it?”

you nod again, eyes glazed but hopeful, unwavering admiration in your blown out pupils. your mouth hang open, dribbling drool over his hand and allowing your incessant whimpering to flow free.

he takes one look at you and knows you’re honest. and he groans, feeling himself fighting a losing battle with the pending orgasm creeping up on him. he didn’t understand it, why you wanted him so badly when he loathed you. and maybe, he didn’t have to. maybe he shouldn’t question it at all. there was a rush of confidence that came along with ruining you— a power surge as he heard your whiny, little yelps. he could get off on them alone, though he’d never tell you that, but the idea that you were untouchable— that Muzan had forbade any of his demon moons from so much as laying a single finger on you, and he was able to fuck you out like this— he felt less like a demon and more like a god. it was an addicting, exhilarating sensation, power beyond what even he was used to.

“Well,” he grunted harshly, finally, with acidic sarcasm leaking from his lips, “anything for Lord Muzan’s favorite.”

[jadecantcreate]

curse of strahdanya has officially taken over my brain! alongside arcane…season two is SO GOOD SO FARR please go watch it if you haven’t. holy shit yall it does not disappoint

spoilers for up to and the entirety of episode 7 of cos — ill mainly be talking about character dynamics (mostly shepnax) but major events and plot developments will be explicitly discussed as well, so, if you’re not there yet, please don’t keep reading (getting spoilered for this stuff is not worth it i promise)

im sorry in advance. im not even done writing everything yet and its already very long

the way i see it, episode 7 is a major turning point for not only the whole story but inter-party relationships as well. i’ll be organizing this a little bit so it’s less text-wall-y (hopefully)

shepherd

there’s the raven mother they find nailed to the wall — the culprit being strahdanya. this definitely fueled the hate that all of the party had for her, but especially shepherd. he literally screams out in anguish and, later, calls strahdanya a coward and bitch — something we’ve never seen shepherd do before.* i think the events in the beginning of ep 7 is what really cemented his and the party’s objective: destroy strahdanya. before, i sensed some kind of ‘wiggle room’: the party would be willing to work with her a bit, though only for a very short amount of time and would probably backstab her. but after witnessing all that? strahdanya is irredeemably evil, not worthy of consideration / sympathy / courtesy, and i think it finally fully dawned on them all

*i also love how much raw emotion shepherd expresses throughout the campaign. the rest of the party has their moments too (i can immediately think of kana and victoria, but im not remembering any significant ones for clayton or sarnax though i know they exist), but shepherd consistently reacts to the hellhole that is barovia in such a genuine way that it grounds the whole narrative and, to me, makes barovia that much more horrifying. in other stories or discussions of stories ive seen like this (and even in the cos party itself), the characters are largely untouched by the horrors that occur in such a setting. which, fit the characters/purpose as it might, distances the audience at least a tiny bit from the happenings of the narrative. but when you have an otherwise grounded, calm, capable individual like shepherd crack? that’s when it really hits you i think. like, the whole thing with sarnax reviving the mother? shepherd being so relieved and overcome with a multitude of feelings that his voice cracks as he holds back tears, begging the mother to rest and not do any work? it made me feel the same way, and it really drove home how wonderful this act is and how dire their situation is. shepherd (and andy by extension!) have drawn the most emotion out of me in my watch, and its possibly the main reason i enjoy his character so much

him being seemingly chosen by the silver dragon (which, again, another turning point) is very compelling in a narrative sense too because shepherd doesnt want power, he doesn’t seem to even like the idea of leading (or at least being pushed into a position of leadership). i’ll touch on it later in the shepherd and sarnax segment (if i dont forget lol, my mind is running wild while i write this)

victoria

i think strahd’s infatuation with her and the physical effects it has (kana’s cleansing ritual failing because the water becomes blood as it touches victoria) is so interesting, especially her inner conflict with her heritage and wickedness (and the distrust it sows between her and the party, at least initially)

i really enjoyed how victoria was vulnerable with kana, and how kana handled it with such care and compassion. this is also a turning point, i think, when it comes their relationship: kana promises to protect victoria, and victoria promises to fight the darkness within her; they definitely got closer after that, and their bond was deepened. i dont imagine strahd would be very happy about victoria not being enamored by her and being helped by her party, though it’s very possible that she enjoys ‘the chase’ (for the lack of a better term)

when they came across the dusk elf in the order of the silver dragon estate-thing, it’s a pretty clear parallel to victoria given her appearance, heritage, and reason for being in barovia. i could be very very wrong about this but its heavily implied victoria’s elf half is a dusk elf, which makes sense considering, again, that she’s in barovia to learn about her lineage and that dusk elves are the only elves mentioned so far. i think this is the first time she’s genuinely made progress in her goal

sarnax

sarnax’s identity revolves around gherix: his whole life is devoted to the fire lord; he’s used to communing with and praying to his god. it’s likely what kept him going in such a terrible place with such terrible odds of survival, let alone returning (which he’s convinced he will not). so when strahdanya intercepted the augury spell he was so clearly shaken. it was one of the few moments, if not the only one, where sarnax was in genuine, utter panic — the whole time shepherd repeatedly asked him if he was alright and he didn’t seem to hear those words at all. suddenly he learned that strahdanya could damage or possibly sever his connection to his god, the being his life is centered around. (kana’s comment certainly didn’t help)

but what happens after — the augury spell reading ‘weal’ and sarnax being able to revive the mother — strengthens his faith. it was tested, but he prevailed. i think he was also filled with a newfound sense of purpose, knowing that, no matter what strahd does, his god considers him worthy enough

about him and kana: episode 7 is the culmination of their slow development towards not only tolerating each other’s beliefs but to understand and embrace them, specifically with kana saying that she trusts in sarnax and his god

sarnax and shepherd

the conversation between them was my favorite moment in this episode by far. there are so many layers,

shepherd so clearly doesnt want to embody his namesake and be a leader, but the silver dragon and someone he trusts so much — sarnax — and fate itself push him in that direction, so he just does. shepherd says:

“sarnax don’t”

“no why would you-“

“why- why- why would you put this on me, why?”

“how can you say that?”

“this was just a job. i mean this was just to make sure we all got here and back safely…how did this happen?”

then, later…

“alright, alright i…okay. i…dont know what to say”

“alright…alright…okay, understood”

“sure, sure. lead the way” and, after sarnax says “no, shepherd. you lead the way, i will light the path,” “…fine.”

essentially, he sucks it up. and that’s interesting to me since shepherd shows so much emotion, so it’s clearly not a ‘men dont cry’-type ideology thing. i think it’s probably related to his desire to do good, and as well as the good doc. after all, the doc gave him his virtue name: shepherd. it only makes sense that he would be written by fate as one: a person who guides the lost through the darkness. so that’s my guess as to why he so readily accepts this burden

i think sarnax being the one to say this also played a role in it^. shepherd witnessed firsthand the power of gherix and sarnax’s wisdom, so much so that he prayed to gherix. shepherd, who was originally averse to anything religious, prayed. and i also think sarnax is shepherd’s only true friend in the party. his relationship with clayton, victoria, and kana feels like professional acquaintances — they’re comfortable with each other and certainly growing closer, but he seeks out sarnax (and sarnax does too) and both have called the other a friend or good friend, on more than one occasion for shepherd and at least one for sarnax. it’s obvious that shepherd values what sarnax has to say and cares for him.

because of that, sarnax saying that he will die in barovia (specifically that he doesn’t “believe [he has] a place back in avantris” and that “whatever it is that [they] achieve here will be [his] end” because he has “seen it in the flames”) and shepherd’s reaction hits even harder for me.

shepherd says “i’m not gonna leave you. i’m not gonna leave anyone.”

and sarnax replies “then it will be i that leaves you.”

it’s the shortest exchange, but it holds so much weight. sarnax has accepted his fate, possibly long before this. but when before sarnax took charge and led the group, shining his light, he steps back, realizing shepherd is the one who (he thinks) fits that role. he still guides, but he doesn’t lead, and he believes shepherd should. but shepherd doesn’t. shepherd’s used to following orders, as we see so many times with him and clayton (but also him and sarnax), and struggles to make decisions for the group — when they ask him where they should go, shepherd seemingly blanks and he just picks whatever as fast as he can (to get the pressure off him, i assume). and despite this, shepherd’s line reinforces what sarnax thinks: a good shepherd doesn’t leave his sheep behind, he goes after and, well, shepherds them.

and honestly the whole relationship between shepherd and sarnax. them being regarded as monsters by others, being dehumanized by, for example, vascha [?] thinking shepherd is a devil and esmeralda calling sarnax shepherd’s pet ->

shepherd answers, understably upset, “he’s not my pet, he’s a person!” i figured sarnax felt the same way, but when he was praying to gherix, he referred to shepherd as “a vessel for [gherix’s] wrath.” so that raised a question to me: does sarnax truly care for shepherd (in the way shepherd does), or does he view him as a tool? it’s interesting to think about. it could be him truly caring about shepherd and seeing him as a capable person who will have a great role in his god’s plans which, i imagine, is among the highest of honors — the first possibility in the question, but filtered through the lens of sarnax’s religious perspective (which i think is the most likely and most compelling)

and there’s the parallel with them being connected to gold and silver dragons: different, but the same. (unrelated tangent but there’s also a very interesting parallel between shepherd being chosen by the silver dragon [‘good’] and victoria being chosen by strahdanya [‘bad’])

sarnax saying “silver will unite with gold” is, on the surface, about the two dragon-gods involved in the story. but i think, on a deeper and probably unintended level, it also applies to shepherd and sarnax growing closer (as they have been since the prologue, following in the footsteps of their respective dragons, and shepherd connecting the two dragons by his faith in gherix and affinity to the silver dragon.

i think that’s everything! hopefully i wont post this and immediately remember something i didn’t mention

thank you for reading all of this <33

[mystic-orb88]

ARCANE SEASON 2 ACT 1 SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT:

Sorry, but WHY DOES VIKTOR’S SKULL HAVE EYEBROWS?? I love him so much.

Why the HELL are they wearing all this Modern AU Gymwear?? Kinda weird, but such a fire intro: Turtleneck Caitlyn looking amazing in that one profile shot, Caitlyn holding her hands above her face in stress and casting a shadow that resembles a crown (ergo ‘Heavy is The Crown’ after her mother’s passing), Vi smearing her tattoo over with black paint, Viktor being Arcane Jesus but holding a very plain and undefined mask, the Violyn bit, Ambessa crushing the Black Rose, JINX WAVING THAT REVOLUTION FLAG AHHHHHHHH, and more.

Caitlyn and Sevika fight?? Most satisfying thing ever. Crush her, Sevika.🦾🦾

Alsoo, rip-off Silco. WHO IS THIS MAN?? DID SILCO STEAL HIS CLOTHES AND DYE THEM EVIL COLOURS?? I need answers. I dub him ‘Piltover!Silco’.

Also want to point out, Silco’s orange iris faded away when he died. He has no left eyelid, as I’ve seen an person say. Instead it’s just a black orb that blends in with the scar. You can see it disappearing during his death, similarly to when Vander “died”, the veins affected by a similar variant of Shimmer across his skin faded.

Jayce looks so stupid and tired here. Thank you Ekko for calling him out on his unethical science experiments. Teach him how to do proper science please, this man cannot think straight with everything he’s been through.

I’ll sort of miss Viktor’s gold eyes, but this constantly changing Arcane Opalescent thingy is soooooooo working for him. I know the Arcane might not be at all directly linked to Glorious Evolution, but all hail the church of the Gloriously Evolved.

Can there be a statue of this in Zaun?? This. This says so much. Vi sees not only what Powder could have been, but HERSELF in this kid. I’ve known a few kids like Isha, and even though she hasn’t spoken a word she’s already such a dear character to me. Amazing representation. It’s so understandable how much she looks up to Jinx, and she herself is a symbol or manifestation of Jinx’s followers (The first Inxes, possibly). She’ll prolly die, but I hope not.

Even his cane’s aura is blue. I love the Arcane Messiah.

Heimer and Ekko going into the Spiderverse, but it gives me trypophobia.

Sorry but I was wondering why she’d react this way to being bitten by Cait, likeeee okay she go “Bitch, you seriously think that’s gonna work? I raised JINX. I had my arm clipped off by a BOMB. I seen some freaky action in Zaun’s brothels and ALL are no match for your hoity-toity dainty ass”. It’s funny. So hard to not love Sevika.

No but Jayce didn’t have to draw Viktor’s hair and cheekbones on the board but he did. He’s canonically drawn him not once, but TWICE now. So silly.

[gatitties]

Glitter

─Dbd x gn!teen!reader

─Summary: Everything here is too dark or lifeless, why don't you change that? You decide to give it a cuter touch

─Warnings: none

ty to Gay4kitty on ao3 for the idea again!! :pp

12 < 13 > 14

Today you woke up and thought it was a wonderful day to ruin everyone's day -something quite common in your daily life- the crows were cawing, the air was hard to breathe, the fog prevented you from seeing beyond three meters, it was so cold that it could freeze your bones and the forest looked as dark as a horror movie, that's the perfect day here in the realm of The Entity.

You took a breath through your nostrils, closing your eyes as you raised your leg in the air like a comical scene of the perfect sunrise, you choked on your saliva as the thick dark smoke traveled through every corner of your body, what better way to start the day than a trial? You took a good minute to get your bearings, even getting to work on one of the generators because everything was too quiet, you had appeared alone and you hadn't seen any signs of survivors or the killer, so you took it as an advantage to do everything faster and go off to do your original plan, to disturb the killers in their camp.

Your head snapped up like a deer about to be run over when you heard quick footsteps approaching, Élodie put her fingers to her mouth so you wouldn't make a sound, but your bewilderment got the better of you and your mouth spoke for itself.

"Mama... mama, girl behind you."

You pointed out, confusing the woman, she turned around to find a red-haired doll gaining momentum to stab her in the abdomen, if it hadn't hurt her you would have laughed right there, this new killer had to be a joke, he didn't even reach your knees. In fact, on one of the occasions when you were being chased you just got tired and kicked him, bitch, this midget is not going to ruin your new outfit that you earned with sweat, tears and of course, blood points. The game ended without many complications and without casualties, proud of your work you went to your cabin to collect the essential material for your mission.

Running through the forest you quickly arrived at the assassins' camp, it seemed quite empty and depressing ─as always─ Michael only shared a brief look with you and decided to leave for his domain as quickly as possible, you snorted at his behavior, fine, whatever, you have more assassins to choose from.

"Hey, hey, hey Oni!"

You smiled from ear to ear when you saw the Oni sitting by the fire, he seemed quite calm, as strange as it seemed, you never had many problems with him, although if you were being a little annoying he would simply carry you on his shoulder until you calmed down. He looked at you waiting for you to continue, which made you move towards him quickly, taking out from behind your back a couple of medium-sized bags with an easy-open zip.

"I promise I'll be quick! I'm sure you'll like the change."

Without knowing very well what you had in mind he stood still waiting for whatever, he didn't expect you to try to take the weapon from him, although he had to move it for you because you weren't able to move it. He looked at you skeptically seeing how its sharp blade was now covered in stickers of Hello Kitty and her different characters, he didn't expect it, but he didn't know what to think about it either.

"Ready! A cute weapon now hehehe, every time you hit someone the blood will have glitter on it."

Sadako, who was hanging around, was drawn to the conversation, moving slowly towards you, she looked ─or so you thought because her hair covered her face─ at the stickers on the Oni's sword, you looked at her with a smile, holding up the bags of stickers and the little jars of glitter.

"Don't worry, I have plenty of material."

She seemed indecisive for a moment, after all, she doesn't have a weapon as such but her powers, but you had the solution, you gathered her hair with some clips, enough so that half of her face was visible, and you placed stickers of stars and flowers on her face, she nodded in approval after looking at herself in the mirror, making your chest swell with pride at your work.

Chucky arrived a while later, but as soon as he saw you he decided to run away, you shrugged, you wouldn't be happy either if you had been kicked and ruined one of your first games. Some other killers came and went, not all of them were so easy to convince, and maybe you stole some of their weapons to decorate them without permission, you had some trouble getting The Trapper's machete and The Trickster didn't let you finish your job but you still made many of the bloody and rusty weapons shine like fairies. Of course, your faithful like Ghostface and The Legion didn't even ask and let you do whatever you wanted with their weapons, Susie even used some of your stickers to decorate your face as well, not even you ran away from your silly idea.

Returning to your camp you saw some of the survivors with their recent wounds just as shiny because of you, making you smile at having achieved your goal, it wasn't the most effective way to annoy the others since as strange as it was the assassins seemed much more docile today in the face of your idiocy, that, or maybe they really are getting used to your nonsense once and for all and are accepting that if they can't fight you, they must join you.

[kustas]

I recently witnessed someone on twitter with the spicy but interesting position of: the only people vehemently bitching against 2D puppets are the animators who have to use them. So, what's the tea, why's this debate even a thing, and is one side wrong?

Rigged 2D animation, also known as puppet animation, and prolly other terms I'm not aware of. Most 2D animators I know treat it with disdain as something they're forced to work on to survive instead of "real" animation (=hand drawn in this case), and while I've encountered less negative sentiments towards the medium coming from fans, I have seen several people complain about it unknowingly, correctly nailing visual aspects they don't like without knowing their cause. Additionally, it can be really hard to tell apart what's rigged and what's hand drawn in 2D, with many series mixing both to their advantage.

The reason for rigged stuff being so prevalent is that it's cheaper and faster. Where hand drawn requires redrawing your entire character/thing frame by frame to make it move, puppet animation uses, well, puppets, ready-made articulated models you just need to pose. It's also possible to use interpolation - instead of deciding by hand every image between two poses, you let the computer calculate it and come later to tweak how each part moves to make it look good. There is little to no drawing involved in rigged 2D, asides of rare shots that need a little part drawn over when the puppet can't do something specific, or drawing the eyes/mouths/hands/etc when you're making the puppets themselves. Notice I said series and not films in my previous paragraph - this is because animations with longer runtimes and/or shorter production times benefit strongly from this medium. You will not need to clean, to inbetween, to color and whatever other steps can go in hand drawn 2D when you have puppets. You can use the interpolations to your advantage on some movements. It's near impossible to be off model. You don't even need to draw!

And most animators uh, they're here because they like to draw. You can say animating and drawing are two different things, that is true, I've even heard it from the mouth of an insanely talented hand drawn animator called Liane-Cho Han who described himself as a poor drawer despite an impressive 2D portfolio. Poor drawer, good animator, it blew my mind at the time but when I started animating I understood what he meant. But puppet animation is still animation, and much closer to how 3D animation works, with stop-motion being comparable to hand drawn in terms of difference between these mediums. Yet you don't see industry-spanning bitching about 3D vs stop motion! This leads to my next point: puppets are limiting.

One of the advantages of hand drawn animation compared with other animation techniques especially those using character rigs is that you're not limited to said rigs. You can just draw anything, regardless of digital puppet constraints, of art style, of physics. If you can put it on paper, you can animate it. Puppets, both 3D and 2D, have limitations - the art needs to be made (sculpt, drawings) and be placed on a complex invisible digital skeleton allowing you to correctly manipulate your character, which is a job in itself. The more stuff you want your character to be able to do, the more complex it gets. You can't automate all of it. This means productions with lower budget and/or ambitions will tend to have simpler rigs which allow less. An example is angles: when you're hand drawing a character and want to pose them, you can pick whatever angle you'd like for all body parts. Rigs might not give this as an option, especially subtler angles of the head and foreshortening. This might make some movements you had in mind impossible, with a need to stylize your poses and your breakdowns. Not being able to have these angles can make for animation that looks stiff or awkward and can be very annoying to work with depending on the animator.

That artificial stiffness is to me, one of the telling signs something is rigged, and part of the reasons I don't like it myself! That's right, I'm with the haters here. Except stiffness doesn't necessarily mean something used digital rigs, and stiffness isn't inherently a bad thing - as with all art styles, it can just be that, a stylistic choice. Enters a director who's work I'll use as a counter example to the dislike of 2D puppets, both from an animator's and a hater layman's point of view on the results: Michel Ocelot.

Famous in France and way less internationally, two staples of his work are his fixations on fairytales and Africa. Fittingly, his most famous movie is probably Kirikou, a feature film which mixes both. Ocelot's work is stylized in a way unique to him, which can make his work very repetitive, but also makes it instantly recognizable. Some of his staples include static shot compositions, actors that talk like they're reading their lines out of an old book, busy backgrounds and folk tale tropes. Stiffness is just a part of what his movies look like, as are art styles that take inspiration from traditional art and past periods. He started out working before digital puppets were a thing, and while he's embraced digital techniques, releasing a full CG feature film in the 00s before it was the norm, he has worked without, including on Kirikou which is animated the old way.

The earliest of his films I've seen is called Princes and Princesses, it's already got everything typical of his work, and one of the latest of his films I've seen (and among my personal favorites of everything he's done) is called Black Pharaoh, and while decades and different techniques separate these two, they're both based around, you guessed it, puppets. P&P is a blatant hommage/reference to animation pioneer Lotte Reiniger, who used literal paper puppets to animate fantasy movies who's style is very reminiscent of the graceful, slightly simplified illustrations popular at the time. Black Pharaoh uses digital 2D puppets and is entirely animated using the (meticulously researched) style of ancient egyptian wall paintings. Both of these films tell a story, not like movies usually do, but like an orator retelling a tale does. And it works! The characters don't move in a 3D space, but it doesn't matter, they're from a fresco or are paper. The character's don't move realistically and it doesn't matter either, they're not trying to trick your eyes into looking real, they're characters of a story. Ocelot's films are a case where using puppets and their limitations works in favor of the film, not otherwise, and his stuff that's not made with puppets looks like it could be.

I'll briefly talk about a film I hate here to make the final point before my conclusion, netflix's Klaus. This is a film who's insanely impressive animation has floored people regardless of how much they know about animating. Unlike a lot of "this looks very cool" (actually p easy to make) animations you see going viral online, here everyone's right, it is indeed insanely hard to animate like that. Klaus was hailed because of it's uncanny ability to look like modern CG while being entirely hand drawn, which I think is stupid, because it's a lot of effort and talent wasted for a result that looks incredibly generic. Would this film have been bad if it had used CG? Why do people think hand drawn is better than CG in the first place? That I can't answer but the reason studios use it is money: either because it's trendy and will make more money because it's trendy, or because it's cheaper to make, which depends on what you're trying to achieve. In the end, they're techniques. Techniques have pros and cons and things they're better at than others. Time and money are essential to producing a film wether you like it or not.

So: are people wrong to hate on puppets? Nah, it's a question of taste. You can hate the look a technique gives and that's fine. But "ugly" is subjective and it's important to be aware of that if critiquing stuff is your job.

Was that tweet right? Yeah, pretty much, lol. For many if not most animators it's a technique they're forced to use, that removes a major reason they like their job from said job, and can be frustrating to work with. It's worth noting a lot of the work you'll get nowadays is on cheap productions, and the techniques they'll use most will be associated with the slop they are. Doesn't mean you'll inherently make slop. A technique is just that, a technique.

[submalevolentgrace]

Question about hand prostheses; would it be more worthwhile to get them if the character had lost BOTH hands, or would it still be easier to just learn to do stuff with their feet/mouth/whatever? Does how far up the arm the severing point is make a difference to whether it's worth it, like a wrist is relatively easy to do things with but a shoulder is not? (Also, I recommend Sigdi Thundershield from Order of the Stick as a character who doesn't use an arm prosthetic and manages just fine without.)

i get that there's no way for any one asker to know how often i get asks like this, and probably 2/3rds of the time i don't even answer them, but when i do i like to try and mix up my responses based on what i can glean from the way the question was asked. if we're going to call ourselves writers, let's engage with the text given. so here's what i've got this time:

i have already written out my opinions on the topic of upper limb prostheses in fiction. it's long, carefully and purposefully constructed to deliver all the information and emotion i think possible and necessary... short of sitting down one on one for hours at a time of interview style back and forth to really dig down into it. you've ostensibly read it - that writing, my pinned post - because you're responding to it and had to metaphorically step around it to get to my ask box. and yet... i'd say in it, i overtly expresses 3 major themes; the first two of which already answer your questions, and the third of which should hopefully have inspired you to not need to ask them at all.

so based on that, and how you constructed your question, from my perspective i reckon there's one of two possibilities going on here:

1) you've already written/conceptualised a character with one or more cool robot arms, and you're unwilling to do the introspection or self-editing to change that and 'let go of them', so you're looking for loopholes and where exactly the line is drawn. you want permission that it's okay from that tumblr blog linked on those 'how to write disabled characters' lists. why not just accept responsibility as an author, and change your character? or...

2) you want to write a character that has a robot arm or two because it lets you score Disability Representation Points with your audience for including a Disabled™ character, but like, not in any awkward or difficult way that including someone actually disabled would, like a real amputee or someone in a wheelchair or blind-without-magic or whatever. why not just write a disabled character, with a disability you understand?

neither one of these explanations for your ask reflects on you particularly well as a crafter of fiction, so hopefully i'm just being a pretentious judgemental bitch and you composed this after only half skimming my writing while barely awake, or some fourth other option that makes you look better.

but then again, in response to an essay where i laid out my feelings on medical abuse in pursuit of normativity and and a society that treats me as barely human because of the shape of my limbs, you suggested to me a character whose backstory seems to be 'trauma porn for easy pathos', from a webcomic that, in my time at least, was famous for jokes like 'a lead sheet blocks detect evil so you can't prove he's a psychopath' and 'the gang tries increasingly insane ways to spy on the genitals of their gender ambiguous companion'.

which is to say, i'm fucking tired of self-described writers apparently not really thinking about anything they're writing; in their work, in their joyful suggestions, or in their clumsy asks to a clearly hurt individual on an obviously sensitive topic.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drawn Together 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, obsession, intimidation, and other dark elements.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: You get a tattoo on an impulse to break your routine, but you walk away with something else as permanent as the ink.

I saw this and had to

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You are not a rebel. You are clean cut. You live within very precise boundaries. Minimizing every part of yourself to evade notice. Rules are not meant to be broken, despite that old cliche.

That is until that day. It's foolish, you know it. That voice in the back of your head repeats your foreboding. You know you can't go back. There isn't a magic eraser for this one.

Shut up.

You're over it. Over yourself. Over your boring life. You've never done one fun thing for just yourself. It's always been what has to be done. What must be done. You're thirty years old and you don't even know if you understand the concept of 'fun'.

You sit on the leather bench. Nervous and shaky as hell. There's still time to change your mind. You can take your deposit and go, with clean untainted skin.

No! You're not going to chicken out this time. You want one memory that doesn't end in you tucking tail and running.

"Do you like the sketch?" Sam, your assigned artist asks.

You glance over at him as he pulls on a pair of black gloves, his gun laid out and sterilised. You peek at the open sketchbook, the drawing of a simple red poppy outlined in black with a thick spiraled green stem. Nothing too big or extravagant, easy to hide. If your mother or father ever saw that, you would be excommunicated.

"I love it," your voice quavers and you clear your throat, "I'm sorry, I'm just a little anxious."

"That's fine. First time, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I don't even have piercings," you give a brittle chuckle, "I'm not really the adventurous type."

"I'm sure you are in your own way," he grins, a look that calms you. "So, we still set on ankle?"

"Um, yeah, I think that's good."

"As good a starting place as any. Glad I talked you off the ribs. Those are tender."

"Just an idea," you breathe, "I don't know much about these things."

"Not to worry, you're in good hands," he winks, "you can just relax," he rolls his stool to the foot of the bench, "and pop your leg up here."

"Right," you gulp down another chest full of air and follow his direction, "that's it?"

"And keep still. Tell me if you need a break. The pains a bit much at times so don't be afraid to speak up."

"Okay, sounds good," you try to settle in but your blood feels thick and your vision speckles with silver. Oh god, you're really going to do this.

"Don't hold your breath," he says, "really, I don't like my canvases passing out."

"Sorry."

"It's okay, you want something to drink before we start?"

"No, I'm good."

"Awesome," he says and grabs his gun, double checking the tip before moving back to your ankle. "Alright, I'll count down so you're not too surprised."

"Thanks," you fold your hands over your stomach as he positions your leg and bends forward.

He counts from three and you focus on not moving at the first stab of pain. Don't be a weak bitch. You grit your teeth and let out your breath as the gun buzzes loudly. The pain keeps a steady sear in your skin but you slowly get used to the sensation.

As he works, your eyes wander along the dark red walls and the artwork hanging all around. Tattoos in colour and black and white. The schematics of a tattoo gun. A falcon crest wrought in brass.

You hear the door open and the smoky voice of the other artist, Nat greets the newcomer you can't see past the pillar. The response is a deep, rocky timbre. You can only imagine the inked up brute behind it.

"Always with the notes," you hear a paper crinkle, "I'm the artist here, Rogers."

"Hey, I'm an artist too," the man counters lightly.

You peek over as the redhead woman appears on the other side of the pillar and guides her client through to her open workspace. An open curtain drapes against the wall at the other end of the shop. She sets down the page and tuts as she looks it over.

The man slides off a pair of dark sunglasses, black lenses with golden frames. He slips them into the pocket of his denim jacket and tugs at the sleeves. Their actions seem to be routine and you can see why. His arms are covered from wrist to shoulder in ink, a few smaller tattoos on his knuckles. Now you really feel out of place. 

"Sam, what's up?" The other client calls over as he hangs the denim on the coat rack.

"What's it look like, Steve?" Sam says, his eyes not leaving your ankle.

You take in the interaction silently. You're a stranger among the usuals. The poser getting their taste of artificial danger. Your ankle tweaks and you smother a grunt between your teeth. The noise catches the blue eyes of the man, Steve.

You quickly avert your eyes back to Sam and knot your fingers together. Steve's shadow moves away. The artist at your bench hardly seems bothered but gives a shake of his head.

"You want the curtain?" Natasha asks as she approaches the black drapes.

"Nah, you know I don't care."

Your eyes flick up as the man peels off his tank top. Wow. You blink rapidly and make yourself act normal. 

He lowers himself onto the leather seat as Natasha takes out her tools and starts sterilising. You once more force your attention back to Sam's careful work. It's going to take a while.

"You good?" He asks as he glances over, lifting the gun from your skin.

"Great," you murmur in an airy voice.

"Still nervous?"

"No, actually, kinda excited," you try not to speak too loud, overly mindful of the other client in the shop.

"Good," he hunches again and you suck in as he put the needle back to your skin. "So, what do you do? When you're not getting sick tats, that is?"

"Um, I, er, I teach. Music lessons."

"Music, huh? You seem like… the drummer type."

"Piano," you correct him, "I can carry a beat–" you pause to check the pain in your voice, "but I mostly teach piano."

"Classy," he remarks, "so, a poppy, any particular meaning to that?"

"Er, no, uh," you rub your neck nervously but make yourself quit moving, "it's my favourite flower."

"Pretty sombre fave but I get it," he remarks.

"Yeah, I guess…"

Your attention is drawn at the soft slap of skin and the rattle of metal. You look up as Steve retracts his hand and Natasha points at him with a sharp nail, "this is a sterile workspace."

He chuckles at her irritation and shows his palms before he sits back. He rolls his shoulders as he leans casually and twiddle his fingers against his jeans. Once more, your eyes meet and his mouth slants slightly. You gulp and look down again.

"So, any ideas for a second piece?" Sam asks.

"I think I'm gonna stick with one."

"Not gonna get a full bouquet?" He wonders.

"Not yet."

"Better get cozy, Rogers," Natasha says.

You look up as she sprays shaving foam onto his chest.

"You know this is my second home," he teases as he relaxes and she spreads the cream.

"Don't remind me," she grumbles as she takes a razor.

You tear away from your distraction once more. Gosh, it is painful. You don't know how people end up like him. Your tiny little flower will be more than enough for you.

You close your eyes and groan. Sam rests his hand on your calf. He squeezes as he pauses again.

"Need a break."

"No, keep going," you puff out.

You grip the side of the leather bench and bite down. You've always been a big baby. You bat away the gloss of tears threatening to confirm that and take another breath.

The subtle creak of leather pulls your gaze back across the room. Steve leans slightly around to see you past Nat as she shaves one side of his chest. You grimace and hide beneath your lashes.

Why is he looking at you like that? It must be amusing, someone like you in a place like that. Now you know this is definitely a mistake.

[yogurtlid10000]

Recently I read Transformers: Skybound FINALLy!!! it was fantastic, cant wait for the next issue

Highly recommend reading it tho, its a greattt comic and has super awesome art

Spoilers incoming ofc

Everyone's already talked about this but wow Optimus is portrayed so well!!! I love the dialogue when he describes Cybertron. Also love the pink backgrounds i some panels!! Anyway the interaction with him and Spike feels good and authentic. nice

The fight scenes. SO good to me, I think the art is super dynamic and the way the sound effects are written give great impact. The artist knew what they were doing for sure. I love how they use the comic media to its fullest. With those different shaped slanted box panels, and the smear lines when somethings moving fast idk

I also looove the shading in these comics!! and the linework like on their faces really helps the atmosphere. once again i love the sound effects (especially that big TONG) when starscream gets hit lol it just looks like all the fonts were designed or drawn by the artists yk?? and the variety of camera angles throughout is cool too.

Also love the relationship between optimus and the humans. It feels... better than how other transformers media has handled it (imo). I think its sweet

again great comic art the lighting.. the EVERYTHING idk i just admire this artist a lot (i think his name is daniel warren johnson, although it switches to Jorge Corona later) one thing i love in particular is how the lines are like... a little messy and sometimes a little all over the place-to depict their wear and grime. cool!

Next. Cant talk about skybound without talkingabout THE DECEPTICONS. oh my god. starscream is a spawn of hell. what a bitch. like actually he might be at his worst here hes so diabolical. Anyway even though hes very evil hes still enjoyable to watch because its just idk pure villain. Soundwaves care for his cassettes is sweet as usual. PUNTING Ravage is crazy. cannibalizing Skywarp is crazy. FGELP IDEK WHAT TO SAY except i like the art a lot here as usual its great very comic-y again. SOundwave stays a favorite character.

THIS is an iconic and great moment of skybound, i love it, i lvoe that optimus is willing to use this cannon to further the battle yk also looks badass

Gotta say these are two of my favorite pages throughout the whole series. Love the color and camera angles.

I know starscreams the big bad villain or whatever (for now) but he still makes me laugh

These panels... THE YELLOW BACKGROUND. THE LOUD SOUND EFFECTS. THE POSE. THE "YOU KNOW THE SONG" perfect. 10/10 for me. the artist has got the touch. (theyre referencing The Touch right?)

These three phenomenal moments with devastator. the art.... its just too cool. very dynamic. i like starscream getting squished. Once again the fight scene art DELIVERS.

This too. I love how soundwaves punches feel really weighted. also YAY starscreams getting the beating he deserved

....remember that PUNT to ravage earlier? welp. bye starscream. Things only get worse for the autobots here tho.... because with soundwave as leader the decepticons can actually function and be more deadly....

...when i saw this i knew we were fucked. we are fucked. wave and wave partnership? optimus is screwed. AND MEGATRON HASNT EVEN BEEN ADDED TO THE MIX YET. oh god.

The newest chapter has some gorgeous panels. plus beachcomber!

Local deadly robot scientist discovers whales and the beauty of earth. Big fan of transformers discovering earth stuff.

GUYS. ultra magnus!! hes one of my favorite transformers im so glad hes in this series.....i wish he was in better shape because-WE ARE SUPER FUCKED RATCHETS DEAD. no medic-HOW IS ANYONE GONNA GET REPAIRED.

ok fr what are we gonna do

poor wheeljack.

anyway the issue ends with shockwaves insane evil plan to bring cybertron to earth working so idk whats gonna happen next but im excited to see more.

also jazz this whole comic has been really cool, hes always helpful btu then he like gets beat up or captured but HES ALWAYS POSITIVE and he only speaks in music puns too. ONLY.

ultra magnus save us... idk bro we need a miracle... maybe jetfire will be useful again soon, maybe beachcomber will come in clutch. maybe new autobots will join. if yes, i hope we see springer again hes cool

anyway yes ik i barely talked about any faults of the comic, im trying to be super open and see it with like no bias or comparing it to other comics and stuff. personally i like it a lot. the humans arent even dislikable imo. the characters are nice. one thing is that MAN a lot of characters are dying. kinda sad. no ratchet is crazy. also when will megatron awaken? and how?

[okaystoptellingmetomakeanaccount]

Boo Frank Miller Scrooge jumpscare

Now that i’ve got your attention:

Here look ifnonity dime thoughts im so quick whatsoit spoilers under the cut

It was first just thoughts quickly typed but then it became more of a review so enjoy the first infinity dime review on blumber i guess

So my main gripe with the comic (aside from that its short as balls) is that they skip the most interesting part. The actual traveling through the multiverse. That was what I thought me and everyone was looking forward to. To see Scrooge traveling through the multiverse and meet his other selves and react to that. But Aaron just went nah bitch: “a few weeks later”.

We have a prologue beautifully drawn by Paolo Mottura (who even though he greatly did the atmospheric dark Christmas should have done the action sequence imo) that is available to read in the previews anyways. Then chapter 2 which is half available to read in the previews as well. Little confrontation between Scrooge and evil Scrooge or whatever which is nice and all. Then we skip to the real ‘meat’ of the story and its just a really long action sequence…. Greatly drawn by Alessandro Pastrovicchio, but still just a very long action sequence. Maybe this is very usual for Marvel, i don’t know, i haven’t really read enough Marvel comics to know what is usual, but we have what is basically a 12 page long prologue, fight fight punch punch (insert don rosa reference here) and then epilogue.

And like this could mostly be due to the short page count, but had it been longer, i wonder if we would’ve just gotten a more drawn out action sequence instead of more actual story development. Because there was a very deliberate choice made to skip ahead to the fighting and have that be the main attraction. Such a fight scene should be a nice reward at the end after a buildup that makes us feel like this action-packed climax is deserved. After we see Scrooge struggle through time and universes to get to work together with himself, we see the result of that hard work in the fight scene. We can’t just skip over the build up and plop us in a “and then they punched each other for the rest of the chapter”. The action sequence would have probably been quite nice at the end of a longer story, but right now it feels like it’s taking the place of an actual storyline.

Because the entire thing is literally: there is a bad Scrooge (very well set up though). He steals from everyone including the Scrooge we know. They find a way to get to bad Scrooge. They get to bad Scrooge. They fight bad Scrooge. They defeat bad Scrooge. It’s just, they go there, they fight him, over. Everybody clap.

Bad Scrooge himself is great. Really well set up. Is it a dumb fucking Rosa thing? Yes it is, I’m my country’s biggest Rosa stan (aside from Diederik Jekel probably) whatcha gonna do about it?

“What if? Donald and the boys never arrived on Bear mountain…” is an immaculate premise. Which, though it has been done better before, is still really cleverly utilized here. It’s also a very good showing of what we mean when we say that comic Scrooge is always one step away from being a villain. He is no different than Glomgold. One is not good and the other is not evil. One just got lucky with family. The other did not.

Then the ending needed to be wholesome and redeem bad Scrooge and uhuhejshsh but sure

rosareference.cbr loaded

You have the literal multiverse at your fingertips. Then you decide to reference Don Rosa and Don Rosa only. Which I mean wasn’t a surprise I literally predicted it in that long speculation post of mine, but it still feels like a missed opportunity. When the army of Donald’s gets send in, there isn’t even one wearing an all black and white suit. Would it have been really so difficult to get a small DT17 reference in there?

What annoys me, and I find surprising considering the enormous talent of the artists, is that all the multiverse characters look the same. Like on the last page, all the Donalds look exactly the same. There is no sense of individuality for even one of them. They give more the sense that they all came out of a cloning machine.

Even Scrooge. He traveled the entire multiverse and only got one guy who isn’t himself from a different point in time? Or maybe it’s future him, could be! Why not make it a time travel story where a Scrooge from the future has gone mad with power? Because the Scrooges we see are almost all the same. It’s a fun reference of course, but this ain’t showing multiverse. And it’s not like there aren’t already established AU versions of Scrooge. Even then, a little creativity would have still been nice. For an example of such a multiverse story I would like to point to Crisis On Infinite Darkwings, which does a phenomenal job at showing multiverse diversity. Infinity Dime wouldn’t need to do all the pop culture references Crisis does, but again, a little more creativity in the designs would not have hurt at all.

And now that i’ve been yapping for long enough anyways, let’s talk about the length too. It’s not even 30 pages. It’s 29. The artists do a good job at making it feel big and grand. No matter though how epic and great they made and could have made it. If your comic is shorter than the average Donald Duck gag comic, it’s gonna be difficult to make it feel like “his greatest adventure yet”. Then comes with that the irregular layout. There are a few double page spreads and almost all pages are just a few ‘panels’. Instead of an usual 8 or 6 panels per page (and so 8 or 6 panels to develop your story) it is usually 3 or even 1. The amount of panels make the comic even shorter than it already is. Christmas on Bear mountain will likely take you longer to read through.

Not that irregular layout is bad. I love irregular layouts! I love seeing them. Usually they really help elevating my enjoyment of a duck comic! But when you know you have a big story you want to tell, and a limited amount of pages, it is a risk to spread your story even thinner by having many big splash pages where the pretty drawing takes front and center instead of the story.

Then it makes it EVEN SHORTER because there is not a lot of dialogue. Mostly because half of it is action without that much talking. There is a pretty fun way of using the narrator boxes. They are quite melodramatic but I like em.

Jason Aaron’s introductory page was very sweet.

Regardless of the quality of this story, I really, really hope that these kinds of releases continue. It was very fun and special to read something like this.

If these do continue, I would absolutely love an actual comic series. A longer continuing story please! Pretty please? This page count is just not enough to tell stories like these and more pages to properly flesh out things would be absolutely wonderful. I’m personally not that looking forward to the upcoming Marvel parodies, but if original stories continued, it would be the first American comic series I followed.

I cannot overstate enough how much I want more Marvel Disney comics actually. I need them. I get what people mean now on here when they say “going absolutely feral”. I feel it.

Oh and apparently I have 100 followers now on this blog so that’s nice. Consider this the celebratory post! My review of my most anticipated comic. To end it look at the only Mangiatordi pages in here because looking at Mangiatordi art makes all well

Damn actually this one isnt even that good what happened Vitale- sorry no great comic more please marvel disney