#its so hard to split them without them breaking weird :(

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pyro made cookies :]

kinda accepted that i won’t finish all of them so here’s scout

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Insatiable [L.H.]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x female!reader

Summary: Down in the void, where you can find all sorts of dangerous things, you didn’t expect a flower that makes you horny to be your biggest problem. Luckily, Logan is there to fuck that overwhelming feeling out of you.

Warnings: smut 18+, unprotected piv sex, oral (f receiving), spitting and hair pulling (reader pulls Logan’s hair) but just for a split second </3, dub con because of sex pollen but they want each other either way, Logan calls reader baby and good girl during sex, mention of masturbation (f), Wade watches them fuck technically without consent but it’s not mentioned until the end and it’s more of a joke, set during Deadpool & Wolverine but no major spoilers I just used a different gif because Logan is annoyed at Wade in every single one from that film lmao, Wade being Wade, Logan is taller than the reader, age gap implied (well actually it’s not implied but I’m telling you Logan’s older lmao), all porn no plot

Word Count: 3.4k

first Logan fic 🤭 pls be nice <333 

˚✮*✧*˚☆˚*✧

It shouldn’t shock you that the void is full of weird things — you came here with a mutant and a … well, whatever the fuck Wade is, after all. Yet, you’re still surprised when, on your way back from finding some bushes to pee in, you end up tripping over something and getting addicted to the smell of some glowing plant. 

The flower is bright pink and smells like your favourite perfume. You’re on all fours at this point, your face buried in the bud as you inhale its sweet, sweet scent. 

“What is she doing?” Logan asks from afar, an eyebrow raised in confusion. 

“Yoga?” Wade offers. Logan throws him a look — not helpful. 

Logan makes his way to you; the closer he gets the brighter the plant glows. This can’t be good. He calls your name when he gets to you but you’re in a trance, you don’t even seem to hear Logan. You’re humming — no, moaning?— to yourself, arching your back and lowering yourself to your forearms. 

He pulls you up by your arm and almost flinches at your sudden outburst. “Let me go!” You shout, hitting his chest, and when you look up at him your pupils are so large Logan isn’t sure it’s really still you in there. 

You go to slap Logan so you can get back down but his hand slides down your arm to hold your wrist, his other hand at your waist to keep you in place. 

“Look at me,” Logan orders and, oh you’re looking at him. 

The smell the plant was giving off wasn’t your favourite perfume at all, you realise, it was the smell of Logan. A hint of his aftershave, a little bit of sweat, and all that manly musk. You realise you need him right now. 

You involuntarily arch your back to get closer to him, your chest against the hard of his suit. He’s looking down at you, a mixture of worry and confusion. You reach up to claw at Logan’s collar but he easily holds you off. 

“You okay, bub? What was that?” He looks down to kick at the plant and as it breaks off at the stem the plant gives off a last shake of glittery dust, grows grey, and then dies. You slowly turn your head from the floor to Logan’s face — he’s wearily awaiting your next move. 

“I’m not okay, Logan. I need you right now,” you pull at his collar once more but he has you in a tight grip at the waist — which does nothing but turn you on more. 

“Wade! Come here,” Logan calls, and you see a flicker of red in your periphery coming towards you, but you don’t take your eyes off the man in front of you. 

When you stand still for a few seconds, that’s when the ache really hits you. You clench around nothing and you’re suddenly aware of how wet you are. You’ve never needed to come so badly in your life, but Logan’s got you held firmly in place, no matter how much you squirm. 

Wade sees the plant immediately, even greyed out and dead, “What’s this?” He walks towards it. 

Logan grabs Wade’s arm. “Don’t,” he grits.

With only one of his arms on you, you take the chance to reach up at Logan’s face, try to kiss him, but his hand is back on you before you can even get on your tiptoes. You let out a pained moan and both their heads snap towards you. 

“She was smelling that flower. Now she’s..” Logan looks down at you, which intensifies your need, but he’s careful of what to say. You only met a few days ago and he doesn’t want to humiliate you, doesn’t know how deep down the real you is by now. 

“Horny?” Wade asks, looking at you, “Holy shit, girl, look at your eyes. See, a woman after my own heart. That’s exactly how I look at Logan too—“

“Wade!” Logan shouts, jaw clenching, “We need to get her somewhere safe.”

“Don’t need anywhere safe. Need you,” you mumble, attempting to free yourself from Logan’s grip. He’s so effortlessly strong it makes your mouth water and the place between your thighs even wetter. 

Wade bends down, careful not to get too close to the plant, assessing it. “Easy. It’s sex pollen.”

“What the fuck is that?” Logan half-shouts.

“Have you never read fanfiction? It makes you crazy horny until you’re fucked by the person you’re into the most,” Wade explains, then sighs, looking at you, “Sad that it’s not me, sugarcakes, I’ll be honest.” 

You ignore him, still attempting to get out of Logan’s grasp to climb him like a tree.

Logan groans at Wade, “Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

“No, have you met me?”

Suddenly you’re lifted off the ground and Logan slings you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing at all. His arm grips you just below your ass, and it makes you clench your thighs together, trying to get any type of friction. You attempt to get down but his arm only tightens around your legs and even though your entire upper body is free, hanging off the back of him, you’re helpless. 

-

You squirm and wriggle and moan but all to no avail. Logan’s ignoring you. You feel your underwear getting wetter with his every step and breath and movement, and you’re sure he must be able to smell you at this point. 

Your arousal has turned into nothing other than a pulsing pain and you feel tears springing to your eyes with your sexual frustration. You mumble Logan’s name but you’re too weak to really say anything, too weak to even try and get out of his grasp anymore.

A shadow is cast over you and you see the sand under you turn into a solid floor. Suddenly you’re being lifted back up and Logan sits you on top of a table. You’re in a… diner? You don’t really care, filled with a new energy as you see Logan towering over you, concern written on his face – concern you’re ready to turn into lust.

You sit up with force, ready to pounce on him, but he pins you back to the tabletop immediately, his big arms holding your wrists down.

“Don’t wanna do that, sweetheart,” – the nickname makes you moan right in his face, hips trying to arch up but he’s too far – “We’re gonna need you to calm down, okay? And we’re gonna wait it out.”

“No,” you begin to shake your head quickly, giving Logan your best puppy eyes, “I can’t wait. Need to cum. I’m so wet, Logan. Please.”

“As much as I wish it wasn’t, that’s my cue to leave,” Wade waves, whispering, “I hope you think of me when you come” (you’re not sure if he’s saying it to you or to Logan) and walks out the door.

Logan is distracted for a second, watching Wade leave, and you yank your hand out of his grasp to unzip the front of your suit and push a hand into your underwear. You cry out when you finally get to touch your clit, puffy and wet all over, and for a second Logan can’t keep his eyes off your panties. His gaze lands on your tits almost spilling out of your bra from all the movement and then he takes hold of your wrist once again.

“I’m gonna leave and then you can touch yourself all you want, hm? That sound like a plan?” Logan says, voice quiet and hoarse and all you can do is shake your head at him.

“‘S not gonna be enough. Need you. Please,” you moan again, and you see him clench his jaw in restraint.

“I can’t, you know I can’t. Don’t know if you’d want this otherwise. Wouldn’t be right of me.”

You somehow manage to yank his hand down with yours and shove it into your panties.

“Does this feel like I don’t want you, Logan? You’re all I want. Been making myself come every day since I met you wishing it was you instead.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying, baby, don’t know what you’re asking for,” Logan’s voice is strained. His thumb starts rubbing your clit instinctively, as if he can’t control himself. He moves slightly to get a better angle and you see the bulge pressing against his pants. He’s so big you moan out his name loud enough to echo through the building.

“Know exactly what I’m asking for. Please, Logan. It’s not gonna stop until you make me come. I’m begging you.” He looks at you with uncertainty. Then he’s pulling your arms out of your suit and ripping the rest down your legs.

“I’m gonna make you come, okay? I’ll eat your pussy as many times as you need me to. That alright?” He kneels in front of you and pulls you to the edge of the table. 

You want to ask him to fuck you but all you can manage to say right now is to let out a whiny “Mhmmm.”

Logan wastes no time taking one of your thighs over his shoulder and pulling your soaked panties to the side. He looks ready to surrender and give you what you really need but he stays firmly in his place.

“Look what a mess you’ve made, baby. Such a pretty fucking pussy. I’ll make you feel better, okay? ‘M gonna make you come.” 

Without another word his tongue is on you, licking broadly over your clit and then sucking as much as he can into his mouth. You arch your back and press your hips into his face. His hands come to the top of your thighs to hold you down, palms hot against your skin. 

“Feel good?” He mumbles against your pussy and you sit up on your elbows. 

“So fucking good, Logan. Don’t stop. Please,” you whimper as you look at his face buried in your pussy. He licks into you, nose pressed against your clit and you can’t help but buck your hips. 

“Look how sweet you are, saying please every time. Such a good girl.” He’s inhaling you hungrily now, sloppy in his movements from how turned on he is but it’s not stopping you from feeling good. 

You just need friction. And he’s giving you that, but then he’s licking all the way up from your pussy over your clit, through your pubic hair and up to your belly button — just to tease you. He smirks up at you and you push his head back down; he happily obliges, but not before reaching out one of his big strong hands to settle on your breast, thumb hooking under the top of your bra to play with your nipple. 

“Taste so fucking good, baby. Can’t get enough,” he breathes as he begins to suck on your clit and starts moaning himself. 

It occurs to you then that the pollen in your arousal or in your sweat might be making him lose his mind too. With the way he’s almost painfully squeezing your thigh with one hand and your boob with the other, you’re sure.

Logan groans with a mouthful of you between his lips, your sensitive clit swollen against his tongue. He moans something into you that you can’t understand, but the vibration of his voice pushes you close to the edge.

“Fuck, gonna come,” you whimper loudly, your hips chasing his face.

You finally tip over the edge, your orgasm ripping through you with an intensity you’ve never experienced before.

But it’s over as fast as it started.

You push your hand between your legs to relieve the ache again but you know it won’t be enough. Logan stands up and wipes his mouth, glistening with your arousal. “Y’need me again?”

You shake your head as you squirm without his presence between your thighs. “Please fuck me, Logan. I can’t take it anymore, need you inside me.” As you say it you clench around nothing, the pulsing between your legs insatiable. You start fucking yourself with your fingers, but it’s not nearly enough – you need something bigger, much bigger, and you have a feeling he can provide that.

The pollen seems to take over for Logan as well, and he finally stops arguing. He pulls off his suit and you silently curse him for not doing that earlier. Seeing those muscles is providing more relief than your fingers inside you. You feel like you could come just from the sight of his big, hard cock alone. It’s exactly what you need.

You slip out of your bra that’s almost sticking to your skin with how hot you feel and Logan roughly rips your panties down your legs.

“You really want this?” He asks as he steps between your thighs, jerking off and rubbing the tip against your clit.

“Mmhm yesyes, need you so badly. Please Lo–” you both gasp when he fills your pussy at once. It’s a feeling that brings you close to orgasm immediately and makes you grab him to pull him closer. Logan momentarily slips out of you again to crawl onto the table, pull you across it and wrap your legs around his hips.

“So fucking hard for you,” he mumbles as he pushes back into your slick pussy. You’re both mesmerised by the sight of him starting to fuck into you, your pussy stretching around him with what is the best feeling you’ve ever had. It burns because he’s so big, but it’s a good type of pain.

You grab the hair at the back of his head for support, and he moans at your grip. It angles his face towards yours and you look into each other’s eyes for a split second before his mouth finds yours. You’re biting and licking at his lips and he growls back against you, holding your lower lip down to spit into your mouth, his animalistic nature taking over.

His hips rut against yours faster as your kiss gets more desperate. You lean your head back in pleasure, hitting the table, but you barely register the pain. Distracted by how good his big cock feels so deep in your pussy you don’t even notice his hand coming up under your head to cushion it.

“There you go,” he whispers, looking down at you. Your eyes meet and for a second you smile at his care. You tip your head right back down into his hand when he starts kissing down your neck, his free hand pushing up one of your tits to wrap his lips around the nipple. 

The way he runs his tongue over your nipple has you moaning and grabbing onto his hair once more. You need to feel the heat of his body so you wrap your arm around the back of his shoulders until he’s desperately fucking into you with your chests pressed together.

It should be too warm with the way your bodies are intertwined but Logan looks down to lick the sweat on your neck right up and sucks on the skin there right after. The added stimulation makes your hips buck up and Logan sneaks a hand back to your clit, messily rubbing until he has you coming again and you’re both moaning at how hard your pussy clenches around him.

You think for a second that Logan’s going to come with you but he manages to resist the temptation, biting into your shoulder instead. But that second in which it almost felt like he was coming was the calmest you’ve felt in hours at this point. You realise that maybe it’s him who needs to come for you to feel better. But you’re too horny to say any proper words to explain it to him.

Logan pushes himself up to look at your face but he doesn’t have to ask if you still need more. Your pupils are as wide as before.

“Pussy’s still so hungry for me, baby, hm? So fucking desperate,” he repositions your hips and starts fucking into you at a different angle, your wet pussy so loud against him. This time you feel his dick pushing against your g-spot and he has you gasping at the new sensation, pulling you by the hips to aid his thrusts.

“P-Please come inside me, Log– uh-Logan,” you manage to say.

Logan looks down at you and places a hand under your ass, squeezing you there, “Baby, I got stamina for the entire night. Not stopping til you’re satisfied.”

“Just do it, need you”, is all you can get out as he continues to rut his hips against yours.  

“Alright. I got you, baby, I got you,” he rasps, making sure to hit your g-spot over and over until you’re arching your back, biting into his bicep that’s propped next to your face, to deal with the amount of pleasure coursing through you.

A gasp turns into an orgasm and as soon as you clench around Logan he lets go too. “God, baby, so fucking tight for me. Such a good girl. Gonna come–”

You hold onto Logan tightly, your arms wrapped around his neck as he fucks into you, filling you with ropes and ropes of his cum as you keep clenching around his big cock. You can feel him so deeply in you that your most primal urges are finally starting to calm down and you feel the last waves of pleasure flow through you as he comes his final drops.

Logan drops onto his elbows that are positioned next to your head, and, instinctively, you take his face to kiss him. He kisses you back so intensely that you don’t even have to consider whether he still wanted to kiss you now that the sex is over.

“You okay?” He asks when you let go of his lips.

“Yeah,” you nod, noticing that the ache is finally, finally gone now that you’ve both come together, “thank you, Logan.”

“My pleasure,” he smirks and places a more innocent kiss on your mouth. You untangle yourselves from each other in slow movements, unsure what places you’re sweating from and need to clean up.

-

“Do you regret it?” Logan asks you a few minutes later, cleaned up and clothed, with his arm around your waist to support you – you can barely stand – as you go outside to look for Wade.

“No. But thanks for making sure so many times… Do you regret it?”

Logan’s smile tells you everything you need to know but he still tells you, “Not one bit.”

You smile but then become more serious. “Sorry that you had to experience that,” you mumble.

“What do you mean? You’re apologising for that?”

“Didn’t you feel the pain too? I thought the effect of the pollen might have somehow been contagious.”

He almost looks bashful when he looks down at you, “No, you just turn me on like fucking crazy.”

You smile down at the floor until you see a shadow. Wade comes around the corner of the diner. 

You draw your eyebrows together. “You’re telling me you actually left?”

“There’s no way you didn’t stay to watch us,” Logan adds.

“No, of course I stayed but I came ages ago. I was forced to be with my own thoughts while you kept going… and going.”

Logan rolls his eyes as Wade walks on, “What do you think, we–”

“And going…”

“Wade.” Logan warns, turning to you again, “How about we get this shit done with Wade and then go to your place and do this all over again?”

You giggle, “I like the sound of that.”

☆.｡.:*support a writer and reblog and comment if you enjoyed, I appreciate it a lot <333.｡.:*☆

[bigwishes]

Hi, I'm 20 years old and I work as a pizza delivery guy. The other day I delivered pizza to a big homeless guy and he didn't have any money to give me, but when he heard that I was offering it to him, he did something weird to me, and I started to transform...

You were very kind to hand over the pizza and you were given a gift in return. The man poured a small green vial over your hand as your handed the pizza over and smiled at you.

You tried to shake it off but as soon as it was poured on your hand but it quickly seeped into your skin and vanished without a trace. You started walking back to your car getting ready to call your boss or maybe an ambulance to get checked over after that strange fluid got absorbed into your skin.

You hand feels tingly and strained. You ball up your fist then stretch out your fingers repeatedly trying to get rid of the sensation of pins and needles. When you get back to your car your notice your hands is slightly larger, veins moving down from your forearms.

Slowly your veins began to pulsate, and your forearms expanded, shoulders widened. Your biceps and triceps expanded sitting snug against your delivery man shirt. Your chest expanded breaking the top button on your shirt and a your chest started to sprout course black hair that made its way to your neck. You pushed your pelvis forward trying to make yourself comfortable as your thighs expanded in your jeans. splitting the fabric at the seams.

A beard began to sprout of your face, it was itchy as it thickened.

shock and excitement flooded your system and you rang your boss letting him know you'd have to leave work early.

Driving home you couldn't help but itch all over as thick black hair sprouted all over your body.

By the time you had gotten home you had practically tripled in size from your originally scrawny state.

Excited by the new size of your body you couldn't stop yourself from flexing and enjoying your new found muscle. You could smell a whiff of BO exuding from your hairy pits.

You got out of your car and started heading to your house, your thighs clashed against each other.

Getting inside you strike a pose once again, enjoy the powerful feeling your muscles and top heavy weight bring you, when suddenly

UUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRPPPP *FWOOOMP

You let out a potent blech as you abs sprung forward into a small gut. Nothing with any real overhang and your could still feel the brick wall that had become your abs under the weight.

The soft pudge meat of your belly clipped on your belt and pant buttons, pinching uncomfortably, you quickly undid your belt and pants letting out a deep sigh looking in disappointment as your hairy gut stuck out.

your pants were already ripped, and you had just loosened them at the waist but they suddenly felt tighter, and tighter, the sound of ripping fabric filled your ears as you felt your ass get bigger, and your thighs more powerful. You could feel the fabric of your jeans splitting inch by inch down the perfect bubbled curve of your ass.

Your shoulders widened as your lats flared outwards and meat accumulated around your traps. Blood forced its way into your biceps and triceps making them expanding outwards rubbing up against your pecs which were now like colossal stones tapped to your chest. Your forearms became more defined as they too thickened, the shallow muscle fibres making them now feel like concrete pillars.

Your abs grew too, pushing forward out of that muscle gut once again, but they were still hard to notice as the hair on your chest darkened and grew thicker as did the hair on the rest of your body. Your beard grew scruffy and unkept and your arm pit hair became untamed looking nasty as it stuck out of your pits even with your arms by your side.

Looking in the mirror you had become a big hairy goliath of a man, but it still seemed your transformation hadn't finished. Once again you let out a manly belch as your rock hard abs expanded into a solid muscle gut that was so dense it would rival a steel drum.

UUUUUUUUURRRRP

You posed gleefully in the middle of your house unaware of the veins appearing near your pelvis.

Slowly them twitches, as they became more and more visible. You could practically see the blood being pumped towards your man hood with each heart beat.

You found yourself getting hard, incredibly hard. 5inch, 6...8....11....13 inches later your dick was so hard it was almost painful, you could feel the strain of your manhood as a powerful urge over took you, you felt hormonal, more so than you had ever been in your life. By instinct you stuck your hand in the shredded remains of your underwear and began pleasuring yourself.

You fell to your knees unable to keep your second hand away as your tore off the remaining shreds of clothing from your waist.

You spent hours handling yourself, to the point you were so sensitive you were begging for release, when it finally happened, you let out a monstrous beast like rawr.

You blasted the biggest load of your life, coating your hands and the floor in front of you, but something was strange, it was bright neon green. You looked at your hands in horror thinking something was wrong, but you watches as it quickly got absorbed into your skin. It suddenly clicked in your head it was the same fluid that guy had smeared on your when you handed him his pizza.

But your investigation was cut short as your dick instantly got hard again, you couldn't stop yourself, so full of hormones and desperate to stop the painful but pleasurable sensation in your dick you got back to work, hunched over on your knees.

You've become a beast, with no other purpose in life that to pleasure yourself, and to spread this blessing of size to whatever delivery man comes knocking at your door with your dinner.

[gaylordscooter]

Say Goodbye to Your Name

Ever since the twins fought, the guardian of negativity made it his goal to ruin the balance. He didn't care which way it went at first, but he was feeling awfully sluggish recently as it tipped in favor of positivity. 

His brother was giving it his all to make everyone happy. Everyone but him.

He was always like that.

Figures that they would be programmed to feel the need to keep the balance, but he had a thought: if he powered himself using only a few people, how would that affect the balance?

He's noticed how proximity affects their energy. Being physically near someone who’s feeling happy or sad affects him more than the infinite multiverse does. He presumed proximity gives them easier access, therefore more energy.

Still, one person wouldn't be enough to fulfill the quota. Besides, one person could only give so much negativity before running out, and it would be hard to give them a break without companionship. Maybe if he got multiple that disliked each other he wouldn't even need to do anything.

Three sounded like a good number. It was odd and meant they couldn't split up into pairs. Pairs would be annoying to keep track of. He would want them all to stick together when he puts them through…

Put them through what? Torture? Torment?

Nightmares.

Now that was a nice word. He remembered his brother explaining to him what those were after helping people get over a particularly bad one.

He didn't know that he was the one that caused them.

It wasn't out of malice, he was keeping the balance like he wanted him to. Like the multiverse wanted him to.

Besides, without a nightmare every once in a while, they wouldn't be able to fully appreciate good dreams.

But of course, even when he was doing his job, he was doing something wrong.

As for which people to power himself with…He already had a vague idea.

There were three prominent sources of negativity coming from different universes. Not once have they faltered even with all of his brother’s meddling.

They’d need a place to stay. A big building where all of them can live. Perhaps a mansion or castle.

As for where it would be located, he already stayed in a pocket of the Antivoid which was far away from Error’s.

With a wave of the hand he created a forest and a castle. It was more of an illusion than an actual building, but when it felt and looked like a building, what difference did it make if it wasn't “real”?

And now for actually rounding them up.

Something New was the first universe he went to. He wasn't sure how the naming schemes of the universes worked, he assumed that the Ink guy was the one naming them all, maybe for categorizing.

The world was empty save for one lone skeleton.

He always hated the feeling of loneliness.

It didn’t take long for him to find him, with only one person in the universe he might as well have a target over his head.

He was, predictably, in his room at Snowdin, currently playing a game on his computer.

He was talking aloud, whether to himself or to someone, he wasn't sure but he bet on the former.

“sans, turn around there's some weird octopus thing behind you,” he read the text on his screen aloud. He chuckled and continued tapping away at his keyboard. “you’re not distracting me that easily.” He frowned as he scanned over the words on the screen. “chat, you’ve tried doing this before you're not gonna get me…” he trailed off as the guardian entered his peripheral vision. He choked out a nervous laugh, tearing off his LED cat-eared headphones as he swiveled his chair towards the being.

“Hello,” it said.

Was this some fun event no one’s ever documented before? No, there was something off about this code, it didn’t match with the rest of the game. The coding language wasn’t anything familiar.

Great, not even the anomaly was familiar with whatever this thing was.

“hey,” he greeted.

The creature scanned the room, its many tentacles flicked around the floor like they had brains of their own. He wasn’t sure where the thing’s cloak started and tentacles began, or maybe they were the same thing. Its singular cyan eye looked akin to a human’s eye flipped vertically. At first glance it looks pitch black, but the tar surrounding it has a slight blue-green tinge to it. Its hands, however, were bright cyan like its eye and looked skeletal.

“You’re all alone,” it said.

“yup.”

“Your world is of no use to you anymore,” it said.

“uh.”

Its head leaned closer with its eye piercing at his empty sockets. Some of the tar on its face melted away, revealing a sharp grin of cyan teeth.

Funnily enough, he couldn’t feel the presence of the anomaly right now.

He decided to place his elbow on the arm of his chair and leaned his head against his hand. He exaggeratedly moved his head up and down to show that he was looking it over. 

“you’re kinda hot.”

As expected, the thing reeled back.

It looked to the side, hiding its mouth once more and clasping its hands together. All its tentacles curled against its body. Was it flustered?

A moment later it composed itself, moving its hands to its back and straightening its body to full height.

He had to move his head up to make eye contact.

“You can leave this world, if you come with me,” it offered.

“wait, actually?” He perked up, believing he heard wrong. Wait, what did “leave this world” mean? Like, die? Is this thing Death?

“I have a place for you to stay, in another universe. It’ll have all things vital for a mortal like you, shelter, food, water.”

Freedom from this hell? It was highly likely the anomaly wouldn’t be able to follow him. That sounded too good to be true.

He quirked a brow bone. “what’s the catch?”

“There will be two others living with you. You will not be able to return here. I will be feeding off your negativity.”

Well he didn’t mind those first two—What was that last one?

“huh?”

“Oh, and I forgot to mention,” its arm reached out. Suddenly, it held him up by the collar of his shirt. “You don’t have a choice.”

It tossed him backwards. His back hit the ground roughly, but the texture was all different. The ground was vaguely pointy. When he opened his eye sockets he realized he was lying down on grass.

The sky was blue. He could see the sky.

Was this the surface?

“No, this is not the surface,” the thing said as if it read his mind. Could it read his mind? “But you are not underground either.” A tentacle pointed towards a castle in the distance. “That is where you’ll be staying.”

The castle looked exactly like its owner, dark and imposing. It was like it had it custom made and gave the architects a picture of itself for reference.

He whistled, impressed.

“You’ll have to walk there yourself. I need to get the other two residents you’ll be staying with.” It opened a portal, so that’s how they got here, and stepped through before he could respond.

The next universe he went to was similar in concept to Something New, Dusttale. Like the other one, it was empty and it was easy to locate who he needed. Unlike the other one, he wasn’t sitting around in his room, but aimlessly wandering around the Snowdin forest.

Something was off, he thought. He would walk here everyday. This time he couldn't shake the feeling he was being watched.

YOU’VE LOST IT.

He lost it a long time ago, but he's never felt like this.

YOU CAN ALWAYS BREAK SHARDS INTO SMALLER PIECES.

True, but he was inclined to believe something was there. So of course he was on guard.

I WOULDN’T EXPECT YOU TO ACT RATIONALLY ANYWAY.

He stepped over a branch on the ground to avoid tripping. It was habitual, maybe he should move that branch to the side, or change his path, but he's never been good at change.

He was reaching the end of the forest.

Snap.

The branch broke.

He turned around, summoning two gaster blasters by his side and a wave of bones at the direction of the noise.

He heard the bones hit something. It made a squelch noise as if it pierced through viscous mud. 

And then he saw what it hit.

YOU’VE LOST IT.

He was inclined to believe that.

“Rude, aren’t we?” Its voice caught him off guard. Really, hearing any voice other than his or Papyrus’s would've caught him off guard but on top of that, this one sounded otherworldly.

He refused to speak. The sound of his own voice reminded him too much of who he used to be, of what he lost.

The being melted into the ground. He almost thought he killed it, and then it rose up by his side a moment later.

“Quiet too,” it hummed in acknowledgment. “I’ll just get this over with, then.” It opened a portal next to them.

Before he could move away, one of its tentacles grabbed him by the shin.

“I am taking you to a different universe. There will be another person there and he is not as hardy as I am. Do not attack him.” It squeezed his shin tightly as a warning.

A different universe?

He was dragged through the portal. The thing didn't follow him, however. The sight of grass and a blue sky threw him for a loop and the other skeleton that looked like him did not help.

The third and last universe was much different than the other two, Horrortale. It was still populated, unlike the others. It was harder to locate who he needed, but again, he was in Snowdin. This time he was at one of his sentry stations.

The spike in his fear when he saw him gave him a rush.

“Hello there.”

The Sans immediately attacked like the one before. A row of sharpened bones burst out of the ground and impaled him, but much to his dismay, it didn't stop him at all from getting closer.

In fact, the bones impaling him were dissolved by the slime covering him.

“Your life here is so drab, isn't that right?”

“you gonna kill me?” he grumbled.

“Quite the contrary. I’m here to give you a new life. It's not like you'll miss the old one, anyway.”

His sockets widened in terror. There was sweat beading on his forehead as his hand scratched at the counter of his stand. “what the hell are you talking about? that's not—”

“—possible?” he cut him off, mimicking the other skeleton’s voice. He laughed, his voice gradually changing back to his own. “Don’t believe me? That's okay, it'll happen regardless.”

A portal opened behind the Sans.

“you can't. i can't just leave my friends—”

Another laugh cut him off. “Friends?! What friends? Oh, the people that you manipulated? Or the people who are the reason why you have that gaping hole in your skull?”

“how the fuck do you know about that?” he snarled.

“Your guilty conscience is so loud, it told me itself,” he sneered. “Come on, don't you want to leave this hell? You’ll have food—of good quality too. You won’t have to worry about going hungry ever again, and it won't be human meat. Doesn't that sound nice? Don't you miss eating?” To give him an example, he summoned a plate of freshly cooked steak on the counter.

Sans’s attention immediately snapped to the food in front of him. The smell was intoxicating. He couldn't help but drool. He could feel his metaphorical stomach screaming at him as his persistent hunger wrenched at his soul.

When's the last time he’s seen steak like this?

His body moved on his own. He lunged. He tore at the steak like a fucking animal. The second he swallowed the first bite, the logical part of his mind took over and he stopped as soon as he started.

“You have more willpower than I thought you did. Stopping yourself after having one bite? I expected you to down the whole thing.”

He gripped at the counter with both of his stained hands, cracking the wood beneath his phalanges. “i’m not some mindless animal,” he retorted.

“Yes, perhaps, but you're a moment away from becoming one. If I left and came back a few years later, would you even be able to hold a conversation with me?”

He didn't reply. He tapped on the counter, irritated.

“You don’t know.”

He gritted his teeth. His smile was strained and stained red.

“And that terrifies you.”

He was trembling.

The guardian shoved him into the portal before he could say anything.

The Sans landed on his back on the grass. The blue sky was as startling as it was to the other two.

Speaking of the other two, they were currently at each other's throats. Scorch marks from gaster blasters and broken pieces of bones littered the grass.

He looked down at the third one. “Welcome to your new home.”

He said nothing, as if he was in shock like a bird that crashed into a window.

Two of his tentacles lashed out to grab and lift the other two by their necks. He brought them closer to him. “I told you not to attack him,” he said to the hooded one.

The third one watched nervously, staying completely still as if moving meant joining those two up there.

The other one laughed, filling the hooded one’s silence. “what nice company we have here. sans one two and three.”

The guardian hummed at his comment. He put the skeletons down before they ran out of breath—could they even run out of breath? Perhaps not. “I will need to give you new names,” he concluded.

The one from Something New, scoffed, “nah, i’m not letting you name me. just call me…killer.”

“Killer,” he repeated. “How fitting.”

Killer shrugged, “if it works, it works.”

“new names. new names?!”

“now red-eye over there should be called crack-head.”

“very creative,” Crack-head deadpanned.

No, that was a dumb name.

“Horror,” he decided. He pointed at the hooded one, “Dust.”

Naming them off of their universes was basic, yes, but they didn't need a name with any thought put into it. In fact, it was better to put as little thought as possible into them.

“great, i’m yanked outta home, surrounded by alternate versions of myself, and now i’m being stripped of my identity. what’s next, you gonna torture us?” Horror complained.

The guardian smiled impossibly wide. “Funny you say that.”

Horror looked unimpressed.

“and what’s your name, huh?” Killer questioned, looking the guardian in the eye.

His name? He didn't recall having one. There was no one to give him a name, but as Killer demonstrated, one could name themself.

He decided to go with the most pleasing word to him.

“Refer to me—as Nightmare.”

“ok, edgelord,” Killer snickered.

He impaled Killer through the chest, narrowly missing his soul, with a sharpened tentacle.

He choked out and staggered, only being kept upright by the tendril impaling him.

The other two's wariness shot up.

Killer fully expected to die right there, but he had a fraction of HP left. It was a calculated hit. If he wanted him dead he would be.

“what the fuck?” he hissed out.

“That's not my name,” Nightmare growled.

“ok ok, sheesh, nightmare!” he shouted with desperation.

The tentacle withdrew. Killer couldn't suppress his scream in pain as he collapsed to his knees.

Horror had a clear grimace, while Dust’s expression was obscured by his hood.

Killer’s breathing was labored and sporadic.

“You can be as insufferable as you want to be, Killer. Just be prepared to live with the consequences,” he said coldly. “Let me make this clear for you all, your old lives are forfeit, your new home is here at the castle, I will provide you with all the necessities, and I will put you through horrible scenarios for my entertainment.”

If it wasn't for the fact he just impaled Killer mercilessly, that last sentence would make them laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

“The first scenario—starts right now.” He raised his arms up and lurid black fog overtook the area, obscuring their vision.

It didn't take long for the fog to do its job. He felt their misery rise in mere moments. The fog in question was a party trick of his; it allowed him to send people into a nightmare of their own making while awake.

He watched as the three struggled and fought against nothing. He could hear one of them arguing, saying something about his eye. The other two were completely silent, blindly throwing attacks at the fog.

He dispelled the fog once he got bored, which didn't take that long. The three passed out once the area was clear. He rolled his eye and opened portals beneath them to send them straight to their new rooms.

This would work, he thought. He already felt better, but he wanted to make this more fun. Using his fog was too cheap and would get old quickly. He’ll brainstorm ideas while they get accustomed to the place.

Horror awoke. He was in an unfamiliar room that was fancifully decorated. He was currently on a bed that seemed like it was worth more than his entire house.

Oh, and he also felt awful. He had a painful headache from whatever the fuck Nightmare did to them. In a way, this was like a personal hell for him. Was this the world’s way of making him repent for all he's done? He wasn't remotely a religious person, but at this point he didn't doubt it.

He caught sight of a slice of pie on the floor. It almost reminded him of one of Toriel’s. He knew better than to eat it, despite his nonexistent stomach’s complaints.

He took the risk of exploring, exiting the room cautiously.

He entered a long hallway. There were five doors in total, three along one of the walls and two at each end. It was relatively dark with the lack of windows. The dim blue flames from the candles along the wall were the only light source.

Killer was also in the hall, currently eating a slice of pie.

“are you crazy?!” Horror blurted, startling the skeleton.

“fuck man!” he jumped, “warn a guy before shouting.” He took another bite of the pie with no regards to if it was poisoned or wherever the hell it came from.

“you're just eating random food on the ground? who knows what it'll do.”

“bud, i was at low HP and saw a delicious slice of pie. of course i’m gonna eat it, poison be damned,” Killer replied without a care.

“you were at low HP because of the one supplying you the pie.”

“if he wanted me dead, i’d be dead. he’s givin’ me pie, i’m eating the pie it's simple.” He took another bite as if to support his point.

Horror muttered something Killer couldn't hear. He sighed, “where's the other guy?”

“you mean dust?” He quirked his head.

“you're not actually going to use the names he gave us, are you?” he questioned.

“well, what else? call us all sans and get all confused? or are you jealous i got to name myself while you're stuck with ‘horror’,” he said with his mouth full.

Horror scrunched his face in disgust. He already hated this guy. “as if ‘killer’ is a good name.”

“it's not a good name, it's a killer name,” he smirked.

“that sucked.”

Killer pouted and finished the last of his pie.

The door in between the two opened, and Dust stepped out.

“good morning sleeping beau—”

He shoved Killer against the wall using blue magic.

“woah!” Horror exclaimed and backed up.

The impact knocked the wind out of him. “ok, damn, bad morning, i guess.” Thankfully the plate in his hands was still intact.

“what's your problem?” Horror said.

Dust glared at Horror, his mismatched eyelights catching the other off guard.

Horror realized how high his LV was and realized why Nightmare named him Dust. He raised his hands in defense. “chill out, dude, we ain’t the enemy.”

Killer summoned a bone in his hand and tossed it at Dust, hitting him in the back of the skull. “yeah, dude, chill.”

Dust slammed him into the ground with a loud shatter before releasing the hold on his soul. He tucked his hands into his pockets and walked towards the end of the hall without a word.

Killer pushed himself up to his feet once Dust exited the hall. “that guy’s a dick.” He brushed the broken shards of the plate off his clothes.

In all honesty, Horror could see where Dust was coming from. Killer's proven to be nothing but annoying so far.

Killer looked down at the broken pieces of the plate on the floor. “it wasn't poisoned, by the way. so hah!” He looked in the direction of each end of the hall. “i’m gonna see if this place has a kitchen.” He decided to go to the door opposite of the one Dust went through.

Horror sighed and pinched the bridge of his nasal bone once he was alone in the hallway. There was a lot to process here, but Killer and Dust seemed unfazed by their new predicament. Weren't they going to miss their friends? Or at the very least, their brother?

He was trying his best to keep calm, or at least appear that way. He decided the best course of action now—was to go back to that room and eat that pie.

[candy-cloud-system]

I have Never seen an endo shit on traumagenic systems - i have seen them shit on people discrediting their experiences but its wild that ur acting like a victim when ur the one being weird. Psychology largely agrees that we do not know enough abt the human brain - specific dissociative disorders - to claim they can Only be caused one way. Also forcing people to reflect on if they're traumatized or not just for them to be "allowed" to use system terminology is Wild - even if every single system is caused by trauma, so many traumatized people have no recollection of the trauma. This isnt black and white and youre silly for caring so much abt internet strangers repressed memories or lack thereof 🩷

First off, learn to read . D N I. Means DO NOT INTERACT! I don’t understand what’s so hard about that, literally you have to go through the effort to read a whole message that’s literally saying don’t interact, go to my account, which tells you not to interact, and then type a whole message and never once do you think “oh! I’m breaking DNI! I’m crossing boundaries! Hm! Maybe I shouldn’t do that!”

So I’m gonna be a bitch to you now cus you broke my DNI and I’ve already stated I’d start being a bitch to people who do that

“I’ve never seen endos shit on traumagenic systems 🥺🥺🥺” okay explain the constant death threats we get. Explain the people LIKE YOU! Who break DNI to tell us shit we literally do not want to hear, explain the people who go into our comment and tell us to off ourselves, call us names, make up slurs. Tell us no one loves us and everyone will leave. Do you understand how fucking stupid you sound?

Traumagenic systems get SOOOO much bullshit from endos and that’s why it’s such a problem. They bully trauma survivors and victims, making them spiral and feel like fucking shit because they didn’t want people mocking a disorder that makes their lives harder. The amount of times I’ve seen endos telling traumagenic systems to die simply because they fucking EXISTED is fucking insane.

Even if you could be a system without trauma, you wouldn’t be in the same groups as us, you wouldn’t have the same terms you wouldn’t be classified with the disorder. Because our disorder stems from TRAUMA! You have to have trauma.

You can have trauma you don’t remember, BUT THAT DOESNT MAKE YOU AN ENDO. It makes you a traumagenic system who doesn’t remember their trauma! You guys fucking groom people into believing their trauma isnt enough or that they’re endo because they can’t remember and it fucking disgusts me.

I’m not making people reflect on their fucking trauma, IM TRYING NOT TO GET HARASSED FOR MINE.

FUNFACT. I AM A VICTIM! I GET HARRASED BY ENDOS FUCKING ALMOST DAILY AT THIS POINT! IM ACTIVELY TELLING YOU TO LEAVE ME ALONE CONSTANTLY BECAUSE YOU GUYS CANT FUCKING READ THREE LETTERS !

I AM TIRED OF COMING ON THIS APP AFTER WISHING I DIDNT GO THROUGH THE SHIT I GO THROUGH BECAUSE OF THIS DISORDER AND SEEING SOME RANDOM ASS KID SAYING HOW THEYRE GONNA MANIFEST A SYSTEM FOR THEMSELF. IF YOU FUCKING “CREATE” A “SYSTEM” BECAUSE YOU WANT ONE. FUCK YOU. ACTUALLY FUCK YOU. WORDS CANNOT DESCRIBE HOW MUCH I HATE YOU. AND I HAVE ALL RIGHTS TO HATE YOU.

“You’re so silly for caring 🥺🥺🥺🥺” I CARE BECAUSE I GET HARRASSED TO THE POINT OF SPLITTING OR HAVING CRASHES DUE TO OUR BPD AND NPD. I GET FUCKING HARASSED UNTIL I CANT TAKE IT. THATS WHY I TELL YOU TO NOT FUCKING INTERACT.

Get off my fucking blog. Never come back. Endos and their supporters are NOT fucking welcome here. Respect my fucking DNI.

[cicaklah]

2024 fic review

hello friends. what a year that was. here's a review of all the writing I did about blorbo.

January

Started out strong with part 9 of the one man series: life's a beach. I'm really happy with this one and think it is one of the strongest of the one man non-chaptered stories, but despite the fact its full of Spirk having happy sex on holiday, it didn't seem to do that well at the time, but has now started to catch up.

I followed this with my first Voyager fic: there is water (at the bottom of the ocean) which I am honestly still really proud of. It was a Threshold day celebration fic, and Threshold has always been one of my favourite episodes even before it became a meme. It was an honour to write them having weird sex.

March

In march I published friday I'm in love, the one man story where they break up. This is heavy on the OCs, as any story set on the Farragut will be, but I think it worked.

also in march @diana-fortyseven and I were chatting and then I wrote dedicated to the one I love mostly in chat to her, and it was so filthy I had to share it with the class. Diana and Grey fantasising about 47 and fucking about it, while he listens.

finally in march I wrote an abundance of caution, a Pike/Spock SNW fic that was the first story I ever wanted to write in SNW, back in season 1. Where Pike is being haunted by those damn time crystals again.

April

I started publishing my TOS Spirk PWP meandering story a job like any other. I really like the style of this one, and want to write more of it this year.

May

then I wrote nothing until the very end of may, when I published my magnum fuck-opus: subspace rhapsorgy Its literally the plot of subspace rhapsody but instead of singing they're having really filthy free-use sex. I'll never top this.

June

anyway 10 days later I nearly died of sepsis and that kind of wrote off June. I had signed up for thyla bang, then tried to default when I went into hospital, was instead given an extension, which I didn't make because erm, I was dying. the runner of that challenge reacted totally reasonably by blocking me from everything and writing her own story for the art I had claimed. fuck you muse!

July

In july I pushed myself way too hard to publish said fic no glove no love, which is fine, but I'm mostly annoyed that her fic has more hits than mine. It just doesn't really seem fair, but also, its a pon farr fic without any sex, so who am I kidding? its never going to blow the doors off.

I spent the rest of July frantically trying to reclaim my brain post-sepsis by doing the most difficult task possible, sorting out the plot of a sex farce. Said farce was put on your red shoes and dance the blues. Honestly I should have spent July recovering more, but turns out I'm way more spiteful than I thought I was.

August

I had a busy august of wasting money I didn't have being turned away from a plane because my passport was out of date, not being able to walk without my bladder filling with blood, then having surgery, then getting a post surgical infection and having to go back into hospital. I did however finally finished cleaning up the second part of the Diana/Grey/47 threesome fic: a little wicked.

September

I wrote we'll build our altar here after binging the boys in a week, and then promptly lost interest.

October

I spent September and October trying to write the next part of one man, including 20k of a story I still haven't posted, before giving up and splitting it into three stories. The first of these, you probably think this song is about you about Jim's time post-Gala, was published here. I think its probably the best one man story, in terms of how well written it is. Development!

November

I spent November angsting over some stuff, and then decided to do something I wanted to do for a change.

December

That thing was what I called 'super secret writing project' aka blorbo noel, aka my own personal yuletide. I wrote 11 stories, 43k, and I'm pleased with every single one of them.

They are: when I'm wearing nothing but blame, (if I could paint your taint) the colour of the sunset, matched set, hometown glory, captain's log supplemental, I'll be your fire, the power of women, one way or another, crowning glory, (watch me and you) get lost and found anew, and nostalgia ain't what it used to be.

I then also fuck it, published another one man part: bigmouth strikes again, following Spock after the gala. I also finished new frontier, my lesbian la'an fic, and no one cared, and then finished up by publishing some more oxbox RPF business managed.

All in all I published 176,000 words this year blowing my previous record out of the water by 40k, and finally broke through my long term goal of publishing 20 stories in a year. I published 25 new stories and finished new frontier, for a total of 26 in 2024!

This was a very hard year for me, not just with the sepsis, but mental illness, moving house, new job, family problems and the death of my grandfather. Nevertheless, writing and art saved me. I'm planning on doing a sculpture review of 2024 as well, but here's to 2025, hopefully with 100% less sepsis.

[beesmygod]

"A GHOST STORY" IS A WEBCOMIC I MAKE THAT I WILL BE RE-POSTING, GRADUALLY.

the top row is from 2013, the bottom row is from the 2018 re-draw. however, we are now well into 2021 with the re-draw. it turns out the previous pages were 2020 and not 2019. as you can see there were massive gaps in the creation process as a result of needing to prioritize and maintain the comic's 2x a week schedule. its ok, my art got better in between time gaps.

and thank god for it. still some weird ass choices in the re-draw when it comes to lighting, framing, etc. but the new pages are VERY reasonable and the art is able to share space with the speech bubbles instead of having big speech bubbles and tiny figures. the page was split much more evenly with the action flowing more naturally and "breaking" at more natural places.

i like jack's shrug face. i like that they clearly have their backs against the door now throughout the whole thing (mostly) after jack joins in instead of just posing them however i wanted without consideration for the fact that something is banging down the door. there are jokes but they're contrived in the way that most comic dialog is contrived. i think the new pages really work, as opposed to the old ones.

i remember feeling a lot more confident about the way i was re-interpreting pages by this point in the re-draw process. i think it shows. thank god i feel better about this i was so worried i was going to be in artistic hell the entire time i was forcing myself through this re-post process. but its okay?? ish.

i do wish the re-draw was the version of my comic people read en masse because i simply think its better but that's life i guess. i would like a way to allow people to read it for free since trying to sell it flopped really hard. again, that's life. it's data i'm still trying to interpret lol.

---

♥ read the comic: A Ghost Story ♥ support the comic for as little as $1 a month on Patreon ♥ donate on kofi ♥ pay what you want for the re-draw of the first chapter on itch.io

you can block the tag "#AGS repost" to keep this off your dash

[starrystevie]

(rolls up stoned to your drive-thru window) yeah, can i get uhhhh… one steddie drabble combo, extra spicy with a side of trope and a large vibe to drink?

{happy early birthday i’m SO excited about this! can’t wait to see what you come up with. i’m down with any rating you’re feeling and any topic except cheating or non-con, so other than those two go wild}

wyn! i hate that this took me so long to get you but thank you soooo much for sending it in and making me chuckle. thank you for choosing steddie drive thru, here you go, but sorry. we were out of the spicy combos so i hope plain is okay <333

ship: steddie | trope: one bed | vibe: bittersweet | length: 1000-1500

the clock on steve's bedside table shows that it's 6:24am when the group calls it quits, its bright red numbers breaking through the haze of a cloudy morning. steve can hear robin in the guest room next door with nancy, max and el as their voices bleed through the walls. if he really tried to listen, he could probably hear them whispering secrets about how scared they really are, how el is putting on a brave face and how max isn't really ready for a fight and how they're all acting fine when they're not.

it's their reality now. fighting in a war that none of them want to fight in.

the boys are rowdy downstairs still until steve hears lucas yell at them all to shut up. he smiles into the back of his hand as he yawns and pulls out a pair of sleep shorts, yanking them on and untangling his shirt from where it got caught around his neck. face planting on his bed is easy with how bone tired he is. his head hurts from drafting plans and his stomach hurts from not having enough rations to go around and his body has been broken enough times that the pressure from the thunderstorm rolling in has his joints inflamed.

steve expects it when his door creaks open, when the light from the hallway bleeds in and mixes with steely grey light coming from his window. "steve?"

eddie's voice is low when he speaks like he's afraid to wake up steve even though the whole point was that they'd be splitting up rooms. his chest feels too bare against the sheets but he's too tired to pick up a new one let alone put it on. he turns his head on his pillow so eddie can hear him without being muffled.

"bunking with me, ed?" he doesn't hear eddie answer but sees his silhouette shift against the door frame, moving his weight from one foot to the other. his fingers are twisting a ring and he looks like a little kid. steve's too tired to think about how they're all still kid of kids fighting a battle like they're grown ups. "if you're coming in, shut the door. it's too bright out there."

without waiting for an answer, steve scoots over gracelessly in his bed and nuzzles his head into the other pillow, winding his arms between the pillow and mattress. eddie walks silently, the swish of his jeans and the clinking of his chains the only thing that tells steve he's in the room. when he doesn't feel movement, he turns his head on the pillow and looks up at eddie with one eye peeled open.

"just get in the bed," he says firmly when he spots eddie standing by the bed like he's waiting for permission.

eddie hesitates and doesn't look at steve. "i can just sleep on the floor..."

steve groans. not this again. "eddie, c'mon. it's late, we both need a good night's sleep and you're not going to get that on my hard ass floors. i don't have cooties, i promise."

eddie lets out this sound that's not quite a sigh but steve can't place what it really is. he expects eddie to put up a fight like he normally does when he's being weird about sharing the bed but then the mattress dips not a second later and any subsequent movement stops. he doesn't feel eddie situate himself, doesn't hear him take off any clothes, only the thud of his sneakers falling to the floor.

"you can get comfortable, you know," steve says, huffing out a breath, thinking about getting up and getting eddie a pair of sweatpants so he won't be sleeping in jeans.

"i've slept in worse," is all eddie says before laying flat on his back.

steve rolls his eyes, too tired to argue, and curls back up on his side. from here, he can look out the window and see the wind rustling the treetops against the grey sky. even outside looks angry, unsettled, like it knows what the group is feeling and showing it back to them.

eddie lets out a sigh and twitches minutely against the mattress enough times that it starts to bug steve. he can feel the energy in the room shift because he knows that eddie wants to move, wants to take off his jeans at least, but won't for some unknown reason. eddie sighs again, more of a huff than anything and steve sits up out of frustration.

"okay, what's going on man," he asks and rubs a hand over his too tired face. eddie's eyebrows are pulled together, lips quirked down like he's forcing himself not to say something.

"just go to sleep, steve."

"fuck that," steve halfway shouts, his voice too loud in the stilling house. "i can't sleep when you're over there doing your best impression of a wood board."

eddie lifts himself up onto an elbow and scowls at steve. "really? that's that best metaphor you can come up with?"

"shut up, it's late- or well, early- so excuse me for not waxing poetic about how you're laying there like the mattress is going to bite you."

they're in a stalemate. steve is staring at eddie who's staring right back like he's waiting for something, waiting for the shoe to drop or for the world to open up and swallow him whole. they've gotten to a point where they can read each other fully especially after everything that happened in march. they were by each other's sides more often than not and when you're that attached to someone, when you've put them back together piece by broken piece, you learn their tells quick.

but then it happens. something shifts in the early morning hours and steve can feel it happen because suddenly he feels small and eddie looks young and it's like they both understand each other without saying a word.

steve settles back down, laying on his side, facing eddie. he curls up and keeps his hand between them, reaching for something he doesn't even realize he's reaching for. eddie does the same when he lays back down, jeans crinkling as he adjusts and pulls his legs up close to his chest.

"what's wrong?" steve's voice is soft in that 6am way when he asks. his eyes are soft in that eddie way, too.

"i'm scared, i guess," eddie mutters out, his eyes focusing on his hand as his fingers dance along the fitted sheet. "today was a lot and it... got me thinking."

he hears a thud in the guest room and a hushed 'sorry' from robin followed by giggles from the girls like they're at a sleepover and not at the end of the world. he wishes it was a sleepover and not boot camp for an end of the world army.

"uh oh, you thinking?" steve says in that soft way again, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. "that's dangerous."

eddie huffs out a laugh and keeps his eyes down. "ha ha, nice one. haven't heard that before."

they get silent again and the rain that was threatening to pour starts coming down in a pitter patter against the windows. it picks up quickly along with the wind and the thunder and it doesn't escape him how eddie flinches at the sound every so often. steve wants to distract him, shield him from whatever is scaring him because that's who he is. the shield, the protector, the guy who's there to keep them all from falling apart with brute strength and biting sarcasm.

"so you were thinking..." he prods, trying to fill the space with something other than the noises outside that serve as a constant reminder of how close eddie was to dying. "care to share?"

eddie looks up as thunder booms somewhere in the distance but he doesn't look scared this time. he's determined, steady. steve doesn't have time to think about how much he loves that look on his face before suddenly there's a hand over top of his own, warm where it presses into every open space his hand offers.

"i think i'll keep this one a secret for now, if that's okay with you, king steve."

the warmth on the top of steve's hand spreads like molten gold through his hands like he is but an object under king midas's touch. it spreads to through his veins, up his arms to his heart and it thuds harshly against his chest at the feeling. when lightening lights up the early morning sky, steve can see it reflected in eddie's dark eyes.

"m'not a king anymore," is all he can get out, afraid that if he keeps talking for too long, 6am secrets will spill out across the mattress and he'll have no way of taking them back. eddie's hand twitches, squeezes steve's gently before leaving it there and closing his eyes.

"sure you are. always have been."

[yourlocalconfusedhomo]

Hello Again, Dear Night

I wrote like 2.5 chapters of a lost boys fic for me and my friends and I stopped and now I wanna write it again so I'm hoping publishing it will convince me to write more.

All names are fake and this was posted with permission of my friends.

The wondrous nightlife in Santa Carla was not something just anyone could stomach and it was certainly off-putting to the Emersons crew. Hundreds, maybe thousands, of people around. Women with neon colored hair and shaved off eyebrows and men in full leather outfits weren’t something a bunch of Arizonans were used to, but what could one expect in the murder capital of the world right? “Liz you finally have somewhere where you won’t be called a smurf wherever you go” Victoria said smirking at her blue haired friend who only responded by flipping her off. “Vic stop being mean, Liz watch it and boys- Alison turned to her brothers, who were already fighting with each other- stop doing… everything you're doing”. Michael had Sam in a headlock while Sam was trying to push his face back. “We haven’t even been here five minutes you assholes” Eliza stepped forward and pulled Micheal arms off his little brother while muttering about their stupidity. Alison was always taking the lead with her brothers, maybe it was her being the oldest or her empathy for her mom and how hard she works cause their dad sure didn’t, but it was natural at this point. Alison was the peacemaker while Eliza and Victoria cackled from the sidelines and this was no different. “Do we need to go over the rules for tonight again? I mean we mostly made them for Liz but still.” Eliza’s fake offense and shock at the joke only caused the laughter to keep going. “I’d expect that from Vicky but not from you Alison Emerson”. Alison rolled her eyes and spoke again “Alright try not to separate or get murdered. Deal?” “Deal” a confirmation from the small group rang out. Vicky started walking forward with a simple “Lets go” before the group had begun to make their way into the heart of the boardwalk.

Micheal and Sam split off at some point, Micheal saying something about a weird shirtless sax player, Leaving the girls alone. Booths full of trinkets and food stalls lined the boardwalk. Neon signs saying ‘OPEN LATE’ were dim compared to massive lights coming from the massive attractions that brought people in. Some shops were clearly made for tourists. “Who the hell would wear a shirt like this?” Vicky was holding a neon pink shirt with the words ‘I SURVIVED THE MURDER CAPITAL OF THE WORLD’ in bold black letters. The trio shared the wonder of what was worse, the color or the phrase, without sharing a word. When you’re friends long enough you just know what the other is thinking. The snickering got them odd looks from people who were there to truly buy something. A little old lady looking at the same shirt in yellow looked over questioningly. “I hope her hearing aids didn’t work too well” Eliza said as the girls quickly walked out of the store. “LIZ NO” “Oh god” Vicky and Ali over lapped in their scolding of their friend. Eilza muttered something about not being wrong as they walked towards the beach connected to the boardwalk.

“YOU SKANK” A massive comotion came from the little 24-hour diner a few steps away from the girls. Suddenly a person ran out its doors followed by a few men who looked like they could be surfers. “That's gonna be interesting” Victoria always had a little nose for drama and this was right up her alley. “We're not breaking up a 5 on 1 fight Vicky.” Eliza tried to be rational because she knew that's what she should do but part of her really wanted to see what was happening. “You two are already walking towards it so let's go watch. If the police ask we can tell what happened” Eliza hadn’t noticed that Ali was maybe ten feet behind them till the blonde's comment pulled her back to reality. “I’M NOT TELLING THEM ANYTHING” Victoria kept walking and was around twenty feet ahead when Liz and Ali began to follow after. 

Sudden rumblings and the sounds of reeving stop the trio in their tracks. A plume of sand surrounded where the person from earlier had landed. Screams of joy and taunts rang out from the cloud. As the dust settled four men on motorcycles came to be revealed and a woman with green and black hair stood behind them. “What you gonna do now boys?” The woman taunted her chasers. An air of terror brushed through. These bikers and the girl they were protecting were known and were not to be messed with. Once stationary the trio could see the attire of the men chasing her was what they would imagine a surfer bro wearing. “SO YOU’RE THE SLUT ALWAYS WITH THESE ASSHOLES!”. The one who seemed like the leader of the surfers screamed. He didn’t sound like he thought he could win if came to fighting but he wanted to pretend to. “Their ‘slut’?” This woman laughed. She laughed at the idea that she was used by the boys around her. “Buddy if anything we’re her bitches” One of the bikers managed to get out between his bouts of laughter. The girls looked on at this group cackling at the surfers who just insinuated that the woman they were clearly protective of, was with them to be a toy.

The boys began to climb off their bikes while the girl walked in front of the bikes. “All right fuckers heres what you need to know. I know I look like an easy bitch looking for a ‘good time’ but i wouldn’t fuck any of you if it meant my daddy issues never fucking happened. So go spend quality time with your right hands since that's the only thing that will ever touch you or your disgusting pricks.” She finishes her speech by flipping the group off with both hands and stepping backwards until she hits the chest of the only brunette in the group. These surfers seemed to finally understand that no matter what tactics they used in a fight against a bunch of leather bound bikers, they would lose and it would be brutal. After what seemed like an eternity to the onlookers the surfers finally scampered away. All those watching followed the group of brightly colored floral shirts that kept peaking back over their shoulders to insure the group wouldn’t follow.

People began to disperse and the bikers clumped together seemingly checking in on the girl. Alison and Vicky began to move away but Eliza spoke before they could get too far. “Hold up. Didn’t that girl look kinda familiar?” Ali and Vicky turned around with a look of confusion. “How did you see her face in all of that dude?” Vicky questioned. “I don’t know man and I didn’t see her face. She just feels like someone we know.” Eliza was still staring at the woman. This mystery girl just felt like someone who was in their lives at some point. “Liz, are you trying to say you think that's who i think you're thinking?” Alison placed her hand on Eliza's shoulder and Vicky stepped to the fence where Eliza was standing. The three looked on at these bikers and watched as they laughed at what could have meant terrible things for the girl without them there.

Vicky started walking towards them. “VIC! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” Alison whisper yelled following along with Eliza close behind. Vicky stopped and turned to her friends “We can see who it is and if it's not who we hope we can just say we want to check on her”. Vicky resumed her trek forwards as Alison and Eliza joined. As they stepped closer they began fragments of what sounds like questions of concern. Until they heard it. A name. A name that connected that air of familiarity to memories. Alison pushed to the front of the trio and pulled the man closest to them back to get a clear look at her face. As the woman turned around the girls confirmed something they hoped to find was true. “ASHLEY?!” The girls rang out simultaneously once they saw her. The girl finally said something that could be heard.

“Shit”

This will be posted onto A03 under the name "Hello Again, Dear Night"

[canis-constellate]

once again wishing there was more recognition of systems who are disordered for reasons other than a CDD in spaces that are supposed to be inclusive [elaboration about our/myur experiences under cut. tl;dr, we have aspd, and our aspd is what causes the Wolf System to be disordered because of how the masks/parts split and present, and it takes a non-insignificant amount of time and effort to make progress and keep the progress wei've made]

like, while we aren't all disordered, while the collective as a whole isn't disordered, for the Wolf System specifically, our ASPD essentially acts as a "plural disorder" (not a huge fan of the term plural disorder but whatever, it's the best way to get myur point across). the masks formed by myur ASPD eventually break off partially into their own personalities, but they're still masks, and their inability to split off fully into their own whole people outside of being masks is part of what makes meus disordered. not to mention the reason why the masks form and then split off in the first place--to keep meus from being too vulnerable, to protect myur ego (more of an NPD thing but meh, our NPD and ASPD are very intertwined), to allow Oakley to feel hurt but not too hurt, not too scared. to keep people from finding out too much about meus, from connecting the different parts of myurselves that wei spread across the internet so that wei always have somewhere to escape to. so that if wei get hurt, there's always a mask to protect meus, and a mask to let meus run away. a mask that talks to the people who wei can't feel safe around, who wei need to be careful around, who wei don't know the real boundaries of what wei can and cannot talk to--so that all the blame will fall on it if it does something wrong, and so that nobody else is around to fuck up and do something wrong in its stead, so that if something happens, it will be there to let meus walk away without feeling all-consuming despair and anger and hurt and loss of control.

only one of meus has separated enough to be considered even partially its own person, and it's taken months, and the only reason it's separated that much is because it's fronted so much more than the others (aside from Oakley). while the others have been here longer, they're still very much masks of Oakley, and so is this one in part--it still hasn't fully separated, it's still very much a mask, a part, even if it's made a lot of progress. myur struggle to be anything but Oakley's masks makes it so that wei often don't have much of a personality outside of the reason wei split off--Matty is edgy and cold, Inti is sad and scared, Dave is excitable and warm, Junie is friendly and responsible, and Twitch is... also edgy and cold but also extremely protective and angry and mistrustful. those are the entire extents of their personalities, which makes it hard to interact with other people when they front if they're not the audience they originally split off to front for. (Junie is a weird one in that sense since ze split off to be able to handle Oakley's fears of no longer being default and being forgotten, so it doesn't struggle as much since it split off to front in front of everyone, but only insomuch as to be the Responsible One Who Can Handle All The Problems, even when that's not true).

and then, of course, no matter how much they've managed to separate, if something triggers them, there's always the chance they'll backslide back into their original masks. Twitch's semi-personhood is tenuous at best, because so far, it's entirely built on its budding relationship with Oakley. which means, if someone hurts Oakley, Twitch is especially vulnerable to backsliding back into wholly just being a mask--particularly since the reason Twitch split off in the first place was to protect Oakley from feeling hurt and pain in interpersonal relationships (this already very nearly happened once relatively recently, and it would have happened had the situation been any worse and had it required Twitch to take over to take the worst of the blast--wei're very lucky that it didn't, especially considering the trigger in question).

i don't know, this is kind of a ramble, but it's something wei've been thinking about a lot, especially with all the discussion lately about how not every system with a CDD is traumagenic, in part or in whole, even if the CDD itself may be traumagenic. wei've kind of been wishing that there'd be more discussion about how not every disordered system necessarily has a CDD as the cause of their disordered-ness.

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into the Unknown

If you're happy and you know it

(The sequel story that I will never do)

~~~~~

After a lot of debating over the ethics of leaving baby!Damian as a baby vs aging him up (and a rogue suggestion that they yank an alternate-universe Damian over right before he dies so they can all have their way), they decide to let him grow up naturally. In the end, baby!Damian is still a child and in the process of aging him up magically Damian would reexperience all of his traumas in basically a split second, which is just a lot of mental strain to put someone through. Beyond that, even after aging him up they still wouldn’t get the original Damian back, as the base person is so fundamentally different.

So, Damian basically gets to have a happy childhood with his parents and new extended family! Yay him!

I mean, sure, Damian has never truly known a world outside of the one he had been in, and his aunt and uncles are acting weird around him for reasons he can’t really comprehend, and his dreams are getting increasingly concerning and confusing, and his parents seem more quiet than usual even though they’re around more to hang out with him…

Did he do something wrong?

Meanwhile, Adrien comes from France to check on her and also chuck the Miraculous Box back at her in revenge. Marinette explains that she no longer wishes to do superheroing, but would be happy to help support him from the sidelines. Adrien is surprised, because she had been so interested like a year ago, but before he can be like “oh, good for you”, Gotham experiences its Giant Rogue Attack Of The Week and Adrien looks at the bats like Damn bitch you live like this? Gotham vigilante crew has now been adopted by a French demigod, congrats to them.

But, since Adrien is staying in Gotham, he and Marinette have to navigate this new dynamic between themselves where Adrien actually takes charge while Marinette is more of a healer character, staying out of sight during battles and only really cropping up at the end of fights to help victims and make sure her favorite Kitty doesn’t die. She has the condition that she will not enter a fight at all, as she refuses to leave Damian without a parent, and she will keep to it. So, Adrien is a little bit more careful, not wanting to risk it.

In that same vein, this old universe is still a cesspool of villains that didn’t exist in the original one. Joker, Poison Ivy, Mr. Freeze. And, as a Wayne, and a young one at that, Damian keeps getting targeted.

Until villains start dropping off the map. Under mysterious circumstances. And none of the bats can bring themselves to look into it. Because it’s much harder to brush off all of the deaths they have been indirectly causing by letting Rogues live when you know the person who has almost died personally. Even more so when that person that almost died is your little brother that closely resembles the little brother that you just found out ‘died’. When the person that almost died is the little brother that named that stuffed turtle you bought him Turtle because he’s too young to be good at naming things (and will never get better, because they had seen what he had named Alfred the Cat, and maybe the reminder just makes it more difficult).

In the meantime, Tim goes back to work as CEO and starts training to be a vigilante again. People at his job who hardly respected him before because of his age and the nepotism surrounding his hiring now don’t respect him at all after his sudden 6-month break. But that's just his day job, his cover. He's rich. He could quit at any time with very little repercussions.

When it comes to his vigilantism, if he works hard, he could get back into it in a few months, but he keeps watching his family members walk back home with bruises and cuts and more and he had forgotten just how bad it had gotten. Or, maybe he hadn’t forgotten, maybe he had just never realized, and his time as a civilian has altered his perspective.

But he has always been one to commit, and he can’t bring himself to sit by idly without helping, and it isn’t quite so dangerous when most of the major players have been forcibly removed from the equation, so he does it.

Until he comes back, bleeding all over the floor, yelling for Marinette, and Damian sees him. The kid stares at him with horrified, wide eyes. And it would be one thing if Damian didn’t understand, if it was something he would later realize was a close call, but Damian rushes forward to press his hands against the wound.

He realizes he can’t bring himself to do this to the kid.

But he can’t sit idly by while his family risks their lives, either.

So, he becomes a mechanic in this world, too.

And, with both Tim and Marinette off the streets, and Damian more or less safe, and a little bit of time where they get used to their 'new' lives…

Tim proposes. Properly.

They have a wedding. Damian is the little ring bearer. Adrien is a bridesmaid. After all of this time, after all that struggling, they finally get their happy ending.

[starakex]

Warden Ingo Cosplay Build Log

Hey Legends Arceus / Submas / Pokémon fans ! I spent two months last year making a Warden Ingo costume because the game made me fall in love with the franchise all over again (and because I love sad amnesia uncle, of course). I'm pretty proud of it, so I thought it'd be fun to share the process here in painstaking details. I've been cosplaying for over a decade now and I learned a bunch from so many defunct cosplay tutorials on this website, so I thought I'd give back. This isn't a guide, persay, but rather a dive into the methods and decisions I picked to complete this project. Any pre-made items or patterns that are available online will be linked! I'll be splitting down each piece of the costume into its own section for easier reading. This is gonna be a long one with a bunch of pictures, so I'd suggest viewing on the blog directly! Without further ado, all aboard!

Station 0: The Guidelines

Before getting into the build itself, I wanted to preface this wall of text with the guidelines I set myself for this project.These core pillars inform a lot of the decision-making, and some people might feel like using this log as reference for their own cosplays, so I thought it'd be good to put them here to explain why I did some stuff the way I did. Comfort first: I knew I was gonna wear it in the summer, and stand around all day at a convention, so it needed to be lightweight and comfortable. (well, as much as a cosplay can be, anyways.) Realism: Ok, that's kinda weird to associate "realism" to a Pokémon costume (unless you're Detective Pikachu I guess), but I wanted to look more natural instead of translating a shiny fancy 3D model straight to real life (nothing against that, it just wasn't my goal). This meant adapting certain elements that only really worked in stylized Pokémon graphics. Be a huge cheapskate: I didn't wanna break the bank with this one, so if I could save money thrifting or reusing stuff I had lying around, I was going to do it. Whenever you see me pull some material out of my ass that wasn't entirely fit for the job, that's why. After putting these down, jotted down a battle plan for the project (basically just a huge compartmentalized list of all the material I expected to need and the steps to complete the costume), and then it was time to get to work.

Station 1: Thrift Shop Pit Stop

I like starting every project with a quick trip to the local thrift stores to see what I can find. I hate sewing pants with a passion, so my priority was to grab some navy suit pants to match the coat's fabric to later. I also found a long sleeve black shirt for Ingo's undershirt, a belt I ended up not using, and lucked out with some excellent clown shoes with removeable insoles. After slapping in my own insoles, replacing the shoelaces and fixing up the pants' button, we were good to go on every element that could be done without any extra work on my end. Moving on.

Station 2: Three Refined Metals For A Hat

I'll be honest here: when I initially planned out the entire project in my notebook, the hat was scary as hell. I had no clear idea how I was going to do it; I didn't really want to buy a similar pre-made hat cause roughing it up would've been stupid hard to get to look right. I figured I could probably make it out of EVA Foam (a certified cosplay classic), but I've never patterned a shape this complex before. Turns out Kamui Cosplay made a foam pattern for the same kinda hat. Score! I purchased the pattern and assembled the hat using 6mm EVA Foam and Contact Cement according to the instructions. I then destroyed some poor polyester cord trim from the bottom of my scrap bin and glued it into the base for the... sticky-outies? The damaged bits. Y'know.

With the base finished, I drafted a pattern for the fabric covering, cut my pieces out of navy twill, sewed it up and slid it over the hat. I did the same for the inside with some cheap black muslin leftovers from another project, glued it all to the base in strategic spots, and then patterned, sewed and glued the band on. Finally, I took my seam ripper and scissors and opened up the seams where the little piles of sad polyester scraps were lining up to free them. With the main part of the hat complete, I cut up a disc of 10mm EVA foam for the insignia, scored the design on with a hobby knife and heated it up to form a bit of a curve. It was then sealed with flexbond, painted and sealed with a clear coat, and glued on! All that was left after this was weathering the hat. It's a little hard to photograph this piece properly, so I'll show the weathering process when we get to the coat.

I apologize for basically pulling a "rest of the fucking owl" here, but honestly a lot of the process was improvising and somehow not destroying the entirety of my progress, so I have no pictures of the hat building process beyond this.

Station 3: Sneasels Ripped My Coat

Ingo's coat started with a heavily modified version of a commercial pattern. Specifically, it's the D Coat from Simplicity's 4789. I could've probably found a pattern closer to the Subway Bosses' coat design, but this one had already been in my pile of "patterns I bought for an abandonned project and will totally use someday, I swear" and it was close enough, so I used it. Modifications included extending the collar, making the coat a little longer in proportion to my body, the sleeves wider at the ends, and adding inner pockets (a cosplayer's best friend). Oh, and the white bias tape on the edges and the orange stripes, of course. You may have noticed I'm not showing the pattern with all the modifications here. That's because as part of the Cheapskate Protocol, I really wanted to use this old Simplicity pattern to save money. A pattern I bought when I was a teen way back when. the misses sized pattern enveloppe. So I had to size up the entire damn thing. The biggest size on this pattern was like 7 inches off my measurements. It's a paper Frankenstein golem. It looks godawful. The actual adjustments to make the pattern Submas-ready are incomprehensible in there. But hey, I saved like 10 dollars! I started by assembling the base coat (undamaged) out of navy twill. I added heavy interfacing in the collar to help it stay up. I considered adding a lining to it to really sell the fact this used to be a modern machine-assembled piece of clothing, but it wouldn't have looked as good with the rips and tears later on. As a bonus, it's one layer less in the fight against heat exhaustion! However, if I were to make this coat for Pre-Eeby-Deebied Ingo, I'd definitively do a lining.

Next step was the stripes! I used some double fold white bias tape to finish the edges of the coat and topstitched the ones on the back of the coat on. I then used the same orange cotton as the hat band for the three orange stripes,which were topstitched on. Cheapskate Protocol made me buy barely enough orange cotton this time around because I was tired of building up the pile in the fabric scrap bin, so I had to improvise to make it work by snipping the bands in strategic spots in order to cover to whole coat properly. It's not like the parts that would be cut off later for the damage would need them, anyways. ✨Optimization✨

After rolling my rock up the hill of a Hell of my own creation, I booted up the game, dragged my avatar to the Ingo enclosure and marveled at the magnificent creature to see where the coat was ripped. I traced a loose guide of the tear designs with washable fabric chalk and crudely cut up the bottom edge, sleeves and collar to have the basic shape down.

All that was left was to add the armband and the buttons. Turns out the only metal buttonsI could find that were big enough were those buttons kits to cover with fabric. Since I wanted to go for realism here (and be able to throw the whole thing in the wash after sweating in it all day), I wanted to avoid crafting them myself. With the main construction done, it was time to do the weathering! ... ... ... OH GOD I FORGOT TO ADD POCKETS

Behold, the world's most awful pockets. Two stupid little bags sewn in such a way you hopefully can't tell from the outside that I completely forgot that I wanted these. They literally only exist so I can have my phone handy at a convention. There's a buttonhole to close it too, I guess. They're shamefully hidden with all my lining-less, raw seam sins. Ok now we can destroy the coat

Station 4: Stinky And Dirty

I mentionned earlier during the hat section that I was going to get back to the weathering process. This is happening now. For the sake of Realism™️, I wanted the damage to look natural in real life, so I had to make it look believable. Luckily this wasn't my first rodeo with the Dirt, so I had plenty of weathering experience under my belt. To break up the awkward scissor cuts from earlier on the edges and fray everything up, I pulled out the sandpaper and started... Sanding the fabric. Might sound weird to some, but a lot of costume makers swear by it. It's also great for ripped jeans (if those are still popular today) and general natural wear. I also refined the shape along the way with scissor to break up any long straight cuts before fraying the edges. I took care to reinforce any newly destroyed seams with a sneaky staystitch so it doesn't unravel in the future. I then mixed up a bunch of different shades of brownish grime with fabric paints (I had black, brown, yellow, orange and green on hand) to dirty the whole thing up. This doesn't look as realistic as some other methods like weathering powders and Just Using Real Dirt, but as mentionned earlier I wanted to be able to just throw it in the washing machine at the end of the day to sanitize it. (If you're interested in actually learning how to weather a costume, this guide is where I started my journey.) I prioritized the ripped edges and any spots where grime would realistically accumulate in over time, like under the edge of the hat band. Paint was dabbed, stippled and rubbed on with whatever garbage tools I could find, which in my case were some old crusty brushes, sponges and toothbrushes I could get really violent with. (brushes were harmed in the making of this costume, but not my good brushes.)

The whole thing was then sealed with heat using a flat iron as per the fabric paint instructions. With the coat done, all of Ingo's old Subway Boss uniform was complete!

Station 5: A Warden's Garb

Next step on the list was making the Pearl Clan uniform. Thankfully, there's a fun little piece of concept art that shows Ingo without his signature coat, so from it we can confirm that his clan outfit has short sleeves (good for the comfort goal) and consists of two pieces: a tunic and some kind of hip sash. I omitted the hood on the tunic because I was realistically never going to wear it up and it would have just bunched up under the coat anyways. Now you'll be painfully aware of that terrible corner cutting truth whenever you scroll down and see photos of the costume. Sorry. I drafted out a quick pattern for both pieces of the clan garb through the power of math for the sash (a couple half circles with another piece for the border) and tracing over a tunic in my wardrobe for the shirt. I assembled a test version out of scrap muslin to make sure it worked properly, then set the pattern aside so I could prepare the fabric. In order to have all of the tunic elements match together, I picked up a bunch of white stretch knit fabric and a bottle of purple synthetic dye so I could reach the shade of dusty lavender I wanted. I measured out two squares of fabric based on the pattern. One square was for the darker border on the waist sash, while the rest was the lighter color for the whole outfit. I boiled water according to the dye instruction and worked on my Fabric Soup.

With the fabric dyed and washed, I cut my pattern pieces out and assembled everything together. Nothing special happened there since the pattern had been tested and adjusted prior to sewing the real deal. Ok, one thing happened actually. My sewing machine absolutely hated how thin this fabric was and kept trying to eat my costume. By the end I was about ready to throw the machine out the window, but things worked out.

It's pretty sneaky and totally not visible on the outside, but the sash is held closed with two snap buttons on the front. It's easily the single jankiest piece of the costume due to the aforementioned attempt by my sewing machine to have fabric dinner. But hey, it works and the jank isn't visible so who caaaares (I care)

Final step for the Pearl Clan outfit was adding the logo on the front. I wasn't sure how I wanted to do this, at first, but to keep the fabric's stretch and keep with the idea that this is a hand-sewn garment from old Hisui, I decided to go with hand embroidery. I grabbed some scrap white cotton, dyed it purple, then cut it out in the shape of the logo. It was then painstakingly applique'd to the tunic by hand with embroidery floss.

With that done, the tunic was completed! It looks absolutely depressing on a coat hanger, but when worn with a belt it's all nice and cozy. As a bonus, it layers with the coat well enough that I don't have to wear a binder under everything to hide obvious boob shapes. Another win for the Comfort team! 👏 With all the sewing done, all that's left is the Warden bracelet and the hair.

Station 6: Noble Sneasler's Cool Bling

Ingo's got a bestie bracelet of his best pal Sneasler, so we gotta make that. The build should be pretty standard to anyone that's made anything out of EVA Foam for a cosplay. I drafted the pieces by referencing the in-game model, cut them out of different thicknesses of the material to create some depth, and glued everything together with contact cement and hot glue. (The main bracelet is 6mm foam, the details are 2mm foam and the black parts for the base of the head and the gem are 4mm foam.) I added an elastic on the wrist to keep the bangle secured to my arm while still being able to easily slip it on and off.

The whole thing was then sealed with flexbond, painted and then sealed with a spray clear coat. Honestly, it was the simplest part of the build and it actually went without a hitch this time around.

With the accessories done, it was now time to get to what I am convinced is every Submas cosplayer's worst nightmare: The Goddamn Hair.

Station 7: The Goddamn Hair

There's a lot of artists credited as character designers in the credits of Pokémon Black & White (2010). This means I can't figure out who to blame for Ingo and Emmet's stupid sideburns that make absolutely no sense in the real world. Instead we're just going to scream at the heavens and find a solution to the geometric flaps. Another fun fact: I'm awful at wigs. Like absolutely awful. I understand the methods involved, but I'm stupid bad at applying that knowledge on an expensive mop of plastic hair I don't want to ruin. So I did some research to figure out how people were making the twins' hair on their own cosplay. Everyone did a great job, but it wasn't really the effect I was looking for, so I decided to start from scratch. Because, you see, I was going to completely avoid styling a wig. I've always interpreted the art as them having some sick sideburns/muttonchops. (This art piece by waltias on twitter was posted like a week after I finished my cosplay and I felt so so validated in my interpretation) I also love Makeup FXs, so I thought "hey, I can look up beard makeup tutorials." I ended up with two ideas: either I could buy crepe wool hair in grey and glue the fibers to my face individually every time I put the costume on, or I could make a reuseable prosthetic. I'm a lazy piece of garbage that likes doing things once so prosthetic it was. I mean, I know how to ventilate wig lace. It'll be reusable and take 4 minutes to apply. Smart! I got the Jett in Light Grey from Arda Wigs, a ventilating hook, matching wefts and the lace. I had a plan, I was ready, it was going to look great. And then I spent 40 hours tying individual strands of plastic hair on a wig lace mesh. For a total surface area of maybe 3 square inch.

(Pictured above: A Fool.) It was hell. I might've incurred a stress injury from the process and then had to let it rest for a week because I did it all over a couple days. Would I recommend doing it? If you're patient, sure. I love the result. But this was, by far, the worst part of the entire project. 40 hours. The entire coat took me like 6 hours. 40 fucking hours.

After painstakingly tying individual hairs to a mesh and realizing I might've reached the Ninth Circle of Hell along the way, I took my couple squares of ventilated wefts and trimmed them to the proper length. The result was awesome, and I don't regret it at all. It looks exactly how I pictured the idea of sideburns would look like. But it also took 40 hours of me just tying some fucking hair to a mesh. Maybe there was a better solution, but there's so little ressources about the process online that I just went with the methods I could find, really. I pray someone starts offering squares of pre-ventilated wig lace someday so no one else has to suffer like I did. As a sidenote, I didn't even bother with the balding hair since I wasn't gonna go through all the effort of heavily modifying a wig and wearing a bald cap if I wasn't even gonna take the hat off.

40 hours.

Station 8: Bits And Bobs From Under the Subway Bench

Honestly, after the absolute nightmare I went through making the sideburns and goatee, The final touches were a cakewalk. After all, the costume is complete! What's next? Warden Ingo uses Pokéballs like a cool guy, so I wanted one. I usually make pretty much everything myself for costumes because it's fun, but after the ventilating adventure I just wanted to rest. I'd been following NisuzCraft's work for a while now, and I loved the wood grain effect on their Hisuian Pokéballs. I wholeheartedly recommend them, their work is awesome.

As a final touch, I grabbed some red cord I had lying around from a previous project to craft a little loop to hook my convention badge onto. I don't really like having the badge show up on photos, so it was a clean way to have it easily accessible while having it be easy to slide out of sight. I based the idea off of the knotted ropes the Galaxy Team member hang their Pokéballs from on their uniforms.

Lastly, though it's not necessarily part of the costume itself, I made an overly indulgent ita bag panel for the first con I took Warden Ingo out to. The collection's grown since then, but here it is:

Chandelure: JellyBearDesigns Ingo & Lady Sneasler: AstroTeenyArts Warden Ingo, Emmet&Ingo Duo: Cynniarts Ingo & Emmet with fingers crossed, Hanging Ingo, Emmet & Warden Ingo: Zhampip Rubber Straps: Official Pokémon Mate Merch Go show them some love!

Terminus: You Have Reached Hisui Station

So, first con wearing Warden Ingo came and went. What's the verdict? Pretty great experience, honestly. It was relatively comfortable to wear despite record heat in the middle of summer. The only real issue was that having a wig and a hat together trapped heat real bad, therefore some wig breaks were needed. I also initially used spirit gum to stick the facial hair on, and I struggled to remove the residue afterwards from the lace mesh, so now I just use body tape to keep it on. Nothing broke, nothing hurt, so I'd say it was a success! I haven't had to modify or repair anything for the future, so I'm very proud of the results. To anyone who read this Build Log to the very end, thank you so, so much for your interest. I hope this may have given you some insight into the process; especially if this helps your in future cosplay projects! If you don't cosplay, I hope it was still an entertaining read.

Hoping to see more wonderful Submas cosplays in the future!

[nerves-nebula]

Zag on them bitches, never let them know your next move- TIME TO WRITE TRAUMA AGAIN

——

It was Donnie’s turn to do dishes. Raph had cooked them some really nice veggies with some weird sauce Casey had brought them that had been absolutely delicious. The texture was a little weird, so smooth versus the crunchiness of the vegetables, but the taste had been great. Even Splinter hadn’t found anything to gripe about when he grabbed his helping.

However, now that the food was eaten and in his stomach, his tongue was making its dislike of the texture known. He hated that he was so picky about food, he wished he could just subsist on liquids. A nice flavorless juice full of all the calories and vitamins he needed without any of the horrible feelings that came with things touching his tongue.

“Dumbass, you’ve been scrubbing the same dish for five minutes.” Leo’s snarky voice didn’t even manage to cut through the cloud of discomfort, only amplifying it.

“There was a stain.” He lied.

“Sure there was. Can you fuckin’ stay on Earth for long enough to talk?”

He frowned, looking Leo’s way. He took in his body language, the cock of his hip and the way he crossed his arms right over his chest.

Leo was in a bad mood.

“C-can’t you bother s-someone else?” Donnie huffed, setting aside the washed dish to grab another, “I’m busy.”

“Busy doing what? Coming up with a new way to disappoint your family?” Leo laughed, incredulous and mean, “Thinking of some new dumb robot that’ll inevitably go haywire and explode in your face? Making a new plan to get yourself kidnapped again?”

Donnie didn’t answer, just set another cleaned plate aside to dry.

“Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right.” Leo leaned in closer, “I should start up a bingo sheet of ways you manage to fuck up. See if I can manage to fill the whole board before a month is up. Free space would obviously just be ‘Sucks at Ninjutsu’.”

His tongue felt like it wanted to crawl out of his mouth. He could still feel the bristles of broccoli in his throat, trying to gag him. Carrots that were just too over cooked, feeling almost slimy in the new sauce.

“What other spaces could there be?” Leo mused, “Blowing up another dumb invention.” He counted on his fingers, “Refusing to eat. Never fucking talking. Getting kidnapped, of course. Screwing with mystic shit you were told to leave alone.”

His mouth was simultaneously too wet and too dry. He set the last plate aside and started the quick task of cleaning their utensils. These were easy. He could get this done and just leave.

“Saying something is bad when there’s literally nothing wrong with it.” Leo was still. Fucking. Going. “Getting sick again. Breaking your dumb glasses. I’d say disappointing Dad, but there’s so many ways you manage to do that that I’d have to split it into multiple spots!”

Spoons were easy. A quick scrub with a rag and they could be set aside.

His throat caught and he had to pause to stop himself from gagging.

“Oh, how about managing to ruin some of Mikey’s art with your dumb experiments and pissing him off? That’s a good one! Not common, it’ll be hard to tick that box off, but man when you piss off Mikey you really make sure to go all out!”

Forks. Finish the forks. Get the gunk out from between the tines and set them aside.

Fuck, he got wet food on his fingers and now he could feel the slimy texture over his palms, mixing with the soapy water in a textural nightmare.

“I could make two separate boxes for you breaking our plumbing and our entertainment systems with your idiotic upgrades and repairs.”

Why wouldn’t Leo ever just shut up? His stupid tongue always flapping away like he was paid per word that fell from his stupid lips. It wasn’t good enough for him to embarrass them constantly in front of Splinter, he had to come and individually harass them?

Forks were done. Last thing was the veggie knife.

He could take it and use it to cut out Leo’s tongue.

His eyes went wide as he stared at his hands. He could so easily envision it, grasping the knife and just quickly shoving it into his brother’s mouth. He didn’t need to be stronger than Leo, just had to surprise him. He would never expect it, he was vulnerable. Just wait until he opened his mouth to laugh at his own cruel jokes and slam the blade into his open maw. If he was lucky, the damage would be bad enough that he’d completely lose the ability to speak.

He quickly tossed the knife onto the drying rack and drained the sink.

“Man you’re such a space case.” Leo rolled his eyes again, pushing off the counter to start walking out of the kitchen, “Maybe I’ll go borrow some art supplies from Mikey to make my bingo cards.”

With that, he was gone, leaving Donnie with the vision of him laying on the ground, mouth bloodied and fear in his eyes.

The bad texture in his mouth was gone.

——

Tee hee

-Monster Anon

Where did you find this scene of my brother harassing me- the way I’ve imagined putting knives in his suitcase so he’d stab himself when he goes to unpack it. The way I’ve imagined bashing his head in while he’s talking to me <3

I’ve never experienced this kind of ghost-texture issues. Once it’s down that’s usually it for me. Though the lingering tastes can be excruciating.

Anyway I loved reading this and I’m going to eat it <<33

[cetacian]

The Fall and Rise of Orca: Bootleg The Thing Possession and Bad Puns

Warning: This post contains spoilers for Harley Quinn 2022 Annual  Vol 4 Issue #1 “Task Force XX Chapter 5″.

In the wake of the Justice League seemingly dying and other hero teams being preoccupied, Luke Fox gathered together a team of semi-reformed villains in order to retrieve the dangerous Element-X from an abandoned League moon base with the intent of destroying it, with Harley Quinn being among the team’s number. The U.S. military soon became aware of the team’s rocket flight to the moon, complicating matters. Once the team arrived, team leader Lashina was quickly possessed by Element-X, now a sentient alien being. Luke informed the team that he had in fact sent the element to the moon base after having a vision of it destroying all life on Prime Earth as team member Solomon Grundy was also taken over by the alien element and morphed into a hybridized monster with Lashina, forcing the team to defend themselves and fall back. While team member Killer Frost was able to fend the hybrid monster off via draining its collective life-force, the monster soon turn its attention to activating the base’s teleportation system in order to reach Earth after the power had been restored by the team. 

Luke, realizing his terrible mistake, went to call Jon Kent for aid, only to be ambushed by military forces, shortly before they themselves were attacked and possessed by the hybrid monster. As Luke did his best to evade the monster and the soldiers, the remaining team members teleported back to Earth, fighting off the soldiers until Luke was able to don his new armor and rescue them. After some soul searching from Luke on finding his own hero identity and regrouping, the team set out to face the extraterrestrial threat once more.

In the midst of the fight against the soldiers, the monster had escaped, forcing the team to regroup and plan a strategy. Luke recalled that Killer Frost had been able to draw lifeforce from the monster, thus hypothetically giving them a chance of ending the threat. The team considered where the monster might be going, theorizing at first the near Gotham City, as its goal was absorbing as many people into its collective as possible, but realizing that the even closer Blackgate Penitentiary was its primary target. By the time the team arrived, the monster had already had taken over the prisoners, guards and staff, forcing the team to fight their way through once more. After the hypothesis of Killer Frost being the alien's weakness was proven correct, the team split off with Luke and Bronze Tiger holding off the brainwashed horde and Harley, The Verdict and Killer Frost heading off to find the monster.

However, they were soon stopped by a strange rumbling and faced a new obstacle with an infected, familiar face:

The hammer Harley is weirding was shown earlier in the story to have some sort of enhanced electrical power, though she seems to be just using normal strength here, probably to avoid leathal damage. It's still hard to say if Orca would normally be able to tank that kind of hit without being under alien possession, so I'll put that in the maybe pile. I also don't know whether the puns are charming or groan-worthy. Probably both.

Killer Frost was soon able to gain the upper hand, freezing Orca to the wall as The Verdict elected to stay behind in order to give Harley and Frost more time to find the monster:

Not sure if Orca is breaking out of the ice due to enhanced strength from the alien or if she can do that normally. Real orcas are able to withstand temperatures of the Antarctic waters, so I'm going to say this is within her normal strength range. Plus we've already seen she was able to punch Etrigan's head 360 degrees around, so this is probably a cake walk for her.

After an intense battle, Killer Frost was able to drain the monster's lifeforce, allowing Grundy and Lashina to return to their normal forms and ending the hivemind control of the prison, Orca included:

Luke took responsibility for the events as he still hoped to find his own identity and things ended on a happy note with the team going out for frozen yogurt.

I don't always like stories where Orca is just an extended cameo, but this felt almost like a one shot episode of an action animated series, so it was actually fun from the small section I looked at. Not a big fan of Orca being subjected to bad puns, but she wasn't otherwise disrespected in the story, so I'll let it slide. I wonder if this is taking place after the Punchline storyline where she was in Blackgate. In which case, they forgot her prison croptop jumpsuit. Also are we ever going to get any follow up on her potentially facing a life sentence after being framed for a prison riot? No? Okay then.

I think the only major complaint I have is the design for Orca. It makes sense for her to be hideous when she's got alien tentacles coming off her, but the more normal looking shots are way out of proportion and just flat out ugly:

If I have to look at it, so do you.

Sorry this entry had such a long summary, but context is context.

Next time, Orca joins a furry gang!

[hermit-called-he]

EYES

I keep thinking about how I couldn't stop looking into your eyes

They're soft and warm like the color of milk chocolate 

I don't think dreaming about them is wise 

This may turn into an obsession which is highly toxic 

Everything about you is so lowkey 

But those eyes of yours bore into my soul

I could stare into them forever without wanting to leave 

It almost makes a cynic like me believe 

Your eyes almost make me forget how socially awkward you truly are 

I don't think my feelings actually go that far 

Now that I know how awkward you truly are, I think I was right when I called you a comet in the sky

I don't want you to think that means I won't try 

To make this work across the ocean in the fall 

I have such a thing for socially awkward guys that are tall 

It's fun to learn about your little in person quirks 

Muppet songs, weird noises and all, you know, whatever works 

To make you feel less uncomfortable I guess 

I perfectly understand what it's like to feel like a mess 

Your dry humor is sometimes too much, I will say that, but it amuses me highly 

I know beneath that facade you mean to treat others kindly 

I saw you look at me earlier

I don't remember if I was saying something or not but I saw you watch me for a split second 

I don't know if that was a momentary thing or if I'm just being a chronic worrier 

You were watching me talk or simply staring off into space, I reckon 

I feel like I light up when you look me in the eyes 

Although if I'm being honest, that makes me blush with most types of guys 

The way your brow furrows when its concentrating on me makes me smile 

That warm fuzzy feeling lasts a good long while 

I often wonder what you're like when you like a girl

Do you try so hard it makes you want to hurl?

Or are you super lowkey about the whole thing and hide it?

Whatever girl is lucky enough to have your attention better know she's the shit 

So much so that I might be lowkey jealous of it 

Do you go for pretty eyes and a pretty smile too or is there something else that puts you over the moon?

Looking into your eyes at dinner makes me swoon

I have to break eye contact 

Or else I will be swallowed whole and have no plan to counteract 

Looking at you sometimes takes my breath away 

God I wish I didn't daydream about you trying to make me stay 

I think about you non-stop in my brain 

In fact, to most of my friends it sounds like a boring old refrain 

Your multifaceted personality interests me though 

Perhaps one day I will learn about all of them, but for today I will just take it slow

[tired-of-being-nice]

day 3: pinned down

sliding in riiiight under the wire with my second ever first ever febuwhump post! hopefully this won't be a pattern (it will be)

i thought it'd be fun to do a sort of sequel to my actual first ever febuwhump post :) the guys. the lore has become more coherent since i wrote that so sorry if theres inconsistencies

cws: restraint, referenced blood & injury, referenced torture, amnesia (unbeknownst to pov character)

This is not the worst night Coren's had in recent memory, but it's pretty damn bad. Too many people to catch, too many of them fought back— Coren hates it when they do that, it always ends up leaving everyone worse off, they've tried to explain this to their quarries but they never seem to get it. They're technically supposed to be on patrol for the next few hours, but things had finally calmed down, and they thought maybe a couple minutes' rest couldn't hurt. A couple minutes turned into... more than that, and now they're lying on the ground curled up in a ball, trying to breathe as deeply as they can without hurting their probably bruised ribs. Most of them feels bruised. Their lip is split, and it's gonna take forever to wash all the blood off once they get back home...

Someone kicks them in the ribs, and Coren hisses in pain—yup, definitely bruised now—and curls up tighter. "Back off," it says, trying to sound as intimidating as it usually is. "I'm- 'm very dangerous, and I've had a bad night, so you..."

"Yeah, I can tell," an all-too-familiar voice says. "Hey, Coren."

Coren groans and tries to roll over to face away from them, but has to stop halfway due to a protest from their shoulder (dislocated?). "Ugh. Not you."

"Oh, yes, it's me," Milo says cheerily. "Hm. Now, what to do with you..."

"You could leave me alone," Coren suggests, without any real hope. Maybe if they try really hard, they can get to their feet long enough to get over to a wall, and then they can...

Milo grips their wrists, and Coren yelps in shock as they are abruptly pulled out of their curled-up position and laid flat on the ground, staring up at Milo. Their instincts, belatedly kicking in, tell them to try and pull away, but Milo's grip is surprisingly strong. They have it firmly pinned in place, and as this realization sinks in, Coren tries increasingly hard to struggle free, panic temporarily overriding pain.

It doesn't work—they're not strong enough like this and they're not thinking straight—and Coren finally stops and goes limp. Even that trick doesn't break Milo's grip; they're still holding it firmly in place, staring at it with an unfathomable expression.

"Well?" Coren says with a huff. "Gonna kill me, or what?"

"Kill you?" Milo says, sounding genuinely shocked. "Of course no— why would I kill you? That would defeat the whole point!"

"The whole...point?" Coren says, blinking.

"You know. Interrogating you."

"Oh," Coren says, closing their eyes. So that's the game, is it? "Alright. Go ahead." Best to get it over with.

Milo seems thrown by this for a minute, but recovers quickly. "Okay. Uh. Who am I?"

Coren opens its eyes again and squints at Milo. "...Is this a trick question?"

"No, I mean..." Milo hesitates. "Like, what do you know about me?"

"Uh." This still feels like a trick question. "You're Milo. You work for one of my company's main rivals. You're kind of weird."

"Have we met before?"

"Yeah, a couple times. We met at this function thing when our bosses were trying to pretend to get along and you made a weird face at me. Then I saw you a couple times after that. You threw rocks at me one time. You're not the only one," they add hastily, "I'm not holding a grudge, don't worry. But it was kind of weird, because I wasn't even chasing you or anything. So like, what did I even do to you?"

Milo half-laughs. "You have no idea."

"I guess not, no," Coren agrees. They wait politely for a couple minutes. Milo is just kind of staring at them with an incomprehensible expression on their face. They're being bizarrely gentle— Coren's wrists barely even hurt. 

"Are you going to ask me anything else?" Coren says eventually. 

Milo startles, as if they somehow forgot that Coren was there while looking right at it. "Uh. No. I guess not."

They don't let go of it.

Coren sighs. "You're really weird." Torture would have made sense. This is worse; it's confusing. They think they feel a headache coming on.

"It's alright," Milo says with a sad smile. "You probably won't remember this conversation in a couple days, anyway."

"Of course I will," Coren mumbles. "Don't know what you're talking about." It closes its eyes and resolves to ignore anything else Milo says. It's too tired to bother talking to people who don't make any sense.

taglist (sorry i forgot to use it for like all of whumptober): @whumpsoda @snakebites-and-ink @cepheusgalaxy