#monster hearts drawing reference

[hazzybat]

Nace's stitch guide for Monster Hearts

i realised i never actually showed you all what Nace's stitch pattern is in Monster Hearts. I did only finalist this like halfway through so there is some art where the pattern is different but this is the official look I'm going with. honestly I don't really mind if you change it up a bit, the important ones are the y mark on his chest, the one over his eye and the one around his neck.

[arts-by-omar]

What if Lizzie was in kkhta

What if Lizzie saved Suika in the battle

[monster-noises]

I am experiencing... frustration.

[todd-queen]

something that is just so important to me that I could not stop thinking about today is if Billy and Gideon met and compared chest scars..

[thebirdsandthebats]

Okay @s-p-r-i-n-g-t-i-m-e I’m sure you know plenty BUT I’m going to use your wonderful and hilarious comment on this as an excuse to talk about Bernard, bc I realized recently that there are plenty of ppl who haven’t read most of the comics he’s been in. So get ready for my long overdue:

UNPACKING BERNARD DOWD + HIS TRAUMA (for those who cannot keep up with comics but want to get to know him)

So to start, Tim met Bernard years ago ofc, when they were in high school. It’s established pretty quick that Bernard is an extremely Unserious guy LMAO, the first thing he does is literally circle Tim and try to feel him out socially, see what kind of guy he is. He’s the kind of guy who gets himself in trouble with his big mouth, and seems to enjoy poking at Tim and testing his patience. By the time we meet Bernard again in the recent years, he’s grown a lot, but at his core he’s still the light-hearted, fun, goofy guy with very strong opinions. Just less stand-offish, maybe

Throughout the time Tim spends at this school though, Bernard does experience some wild shit. He lost Darla (somebody he really cared about), he experienced a shooting at his school, and then Darla came back from the dead, kind of scared the hell out of him, and used him to contact Tim again. It was kind of played for laughs, but like. That’s gotta fuck you up. (Robin #140)

Obviously this is the kind of thing that maybeee has a lasting effect on you. And BECAUSE Tim Drake: Robin got cut so short and the writer had to rush to wrap up the series, we’re left to fill in a lot of gaps and draw conclusions about the years we didn’t see Bernard ourselves. But we absolutely get some insight as to his life after Tim left that school and we stopped seeing him in the comics. Spoiler alert: it was hard.

In TDR, Bernard discusses the the cult that he’d been in that Tim saved him from in Urban Legends. He says that “he’d accepted himself”, but others hadn’t. Obviously there’s the natural reading that he means his queerness (which has me chewing through drywall), but I think that he’s speaking very broadly too. Bernard is a very odd example of a civilian, because he’s always getting dragged into things much bigger than him. And even before that, he had his big ideas, his conspiracies, his loud personality. He tended to rub people the wrong way in high school. Then in issue #7 of TDR (the Bernard pov issue my most beloved, weird pacing aside) Bernard refers to this “oozy, sticky feeling” that he ALWAYS feels when Tim isn’t around. He says when he’s alone it’s harder to put one foot in front of the other. To keep GOING. To wake up every day.

I think that Bernard has always felt like an outcast. (Robin #121, he doesn’t fit into any clique). He wasn’t as okay with it as he acted. And I think he wasn’t getting any attention from his parents. (Batman: Urban Legends #5, Bernard’s parents nonchalance to the days leading up to his kidnapping)

So just like Bernard explained to Tim, that feeling got bad. and he wanted to let go. The chaos monsters, the cult, all of it was a means to an end. But then Tim agreed to see him again, and I think that sparked something in him. Because he started learning to fight. When he was tied down to that alter and Tim was saving him, I think it fully sank in to Bernard that he didn’t want to die. Reconnecting with Tim gave him hope and made him really feel something good for the first time in ages.

So now that they’re dating after the cult fiasco, we get to know this current Bernard. A less goading, maybe calmer Bernard. But he’s still himself, of course, rambling about his ideas and making bad jokes and sticking to his guns (he has NEVER been a pushover, no idea where people get that idea?). I think a lot of people complained that Bernard mellowed out too much in terms of attitude, but I think if he seems “nicer” it’s because 1) he’s grown now. It’s been a while since we last saw him, and he’s clearly changed a lot. And 2) because he’s dating Tim now. He likes him a lot, and he’s an affectionate partner. He wants to lift Tim up.

But the fact that he was pulled into a cult still remains. And as lighthearted as Bernard tries to be, that traumatic experience still happened. It said in Urban Legends #5 while Tim was searching for him that Bernard had welts on his arms and legs and had been acting different, so it’s not like he was just snatched up on a whim. He’d spent significant time there. For those who haven’t read much abt the ways cult trauma specifically can fuck you up, I recommend doing a search if you’re in a good headspace for that and want to understand him more. because it’s pretty bad.

And then! yeah. you guessed it. Bernard gets kidnapped again. Chained up next to a BOMB that’s counting down. RIGHT WHEN HE’S WORKING ON HEALING FROM ALMOST BEING SACRIFICED BY A CULT.

And surely this can’t get crazier. He’s almost died twice in the past 6 months. except, remember his parents? In TD:R #7, we really see a little more of his relationship with his parents. He doesn’t live up to their standards, and his dad specifically seems to just want to argue with him. The restaurant they’re at is attacked, and everything goes to shit, and. you know, I think these panels really speak for themselves.

And for the record, when it’s revealed that everyone is seeing their worst fears, Bernard’s parents fears are not about him.

So now Bernard has to deal with that. And we start to see that Bernard is really not as okay as he’s tried to be. He keeps a baseball bat by his door because he’s been kidnapped twice now. And just when he’d likely thought things couldn’t get worse, he heard the Chaos Monsters were back. I can’t imagine he feels safe. He lashes out for the first time since all this has happened and yells at Kate and Tim, because while they’re doing what they feel is necessary to save more people (AND I DONT BLAME THEM AT ALL), Bernard can’t talk about it.

And I will forever be sad and insist that TD:R got cancelled too soon, just before we could get into the really juicy stuff, because things had to be wrapped up pretty quick and this was the only comic Bernard was consistently appearing in. But when Tim is giving himself up to the chaos monsters, Bernard goes out and rallies anyone he knows can help. Things were rushed because there was no more time to flesh out the story the way it could have been, but I’m including these panels just because I love Bernard Audacity Dowd using a fucking flashlight and shadow puppet to call Batman. geeking out for a minute. And then leading the battalion to save Tim with a SLEDGEHAMMER. gay people rule.

So yeah! While I see the vision of how a lot of Bernard’s trauma was meant to be semi-resolved and let him come to peace after saving Tim back, we just didn’t have the time for him to heal properly. I’d give anything to get inside his brain again. UHH IF YOU READ THIS I HOPE YOU LOVE BERNARD NOW and don’t come at me if I left something out, some of my comics aren’t with me rn. Bonus TimBer for the road:

[arjwrites]

In The Stillness (To Love is To Hurt)- Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A glimpse into the ways you've impacted Dean.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: Angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, brief reference to sexual activity. Fem!Reader <3 (but like barely)

A/N: Hi!!! This story is a product of me wanting to try writing a one shot in the kind of writing style I use in my personal works! I write a lot of poetry and drabbley stuff outside of this blog and I felt like some of it would pair well in a one shot like this, based largely in narration rather than dialogue. I am worried it might veer a little bit too far into poetry territory in a few spots- I want to make sure it retains its clarity. Let me know what you think!

There were very few moments of true stillness in Dean’s life. Part of him was always moving somehow- legs carrying him to and from danger, hands absentmindedly cleaning guns and filling shotgun shells with salt, or perhaps the most restless of them all, his mind, always racing and always bearing the weight of the world. Dean’s brain was a machine, programmed all his life to carry out a list of simple tasks. Follow orders, protect Sammy, kill the monster, save the world. While the true meaning of these functions had changed wildly over the years, they always manifested in the worries that kept him up as he lay in bed at night, or ate at his soul during long, quiet stretches of the road.

There was nothing that could completely shut Dean’s thoughts off. Many of his younger years had been spent with a drink in his hand or a girl on his arm, picking his poison and hoping if he tried it often enough, it would become his antidote. Sure, these things sometimes helped, but only ever briefly- he would always wake in the morning, mind racing, head pounding, and searching for a quick getaway. These things were just another excuse to fill the gaps between cases, to keep from ever being still. 

Dean was always running from the quiet. When there wasn’t a task at hand, there needed to be something to fill the space. If he lingered in his own mind for too long, he would close his eyes and his thoughts would take off, always landing somewhere where Dean should have been better. Somewhere he should’ve cracked the case sooner or saved the day quicker or protected someone- usually Sam- better. And sometimes, he could swear he felt himself strung up in the pit again, all of the suffering ever inflicted upon him concentrated in the knot that formed in his stomach and pulsing through his body via the racing of his heart. But Dean could never let his mind wander that far, because that far was dangerous. So he kept busy, kept compacting the memories and tucking them away in unlabeled boxes in his head in hopes that he would misplace them. Besides, the wars of the world took precedence far above the violence waging in his own head. It made sense to keep busy. 

Dean had been a soldier for years, but the most difficult battle he ever fought was against his own feelings. When you stumbled into his life, magnetic and miraculous, he wasn’t quite sure what to do. He knew if he kept you close, his heart would force him to love you, his duty would force him to protect you, and his fear would force him to bear you as yet another burden. Another person in his life for him to love and to lose. In a desperate act of preservation- both for himself and for you- Dean fought tooth and nail to keep you at bay. He holed himself away at the brink of the darkest corners of his mind. But your warmth and light radiated through the cold world he had made for himself, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. And he couldn’t help but fall. Like much of his life thus far, he had been given no choice in the matter. He felt like you were his destiny. 

Dean didn’t believe in much. He had no faith in religion or philosophy or science or himself. Nothing in his life thus far had ever made him feel at peace with his pain and his mortality. The world was chaotic and terrifying and there was no such true thing as heaven or holy or even good. But then there was you. Dean worshipped you, prayed to you, heard your word like gospel. You were the God he had always denied himself. You made sense of his suffering and lit the path to his salvation. It was always for you.

“To love, is to hurt,” you had told Dean one day, and he had looked back at you as if you had three heads. Though he hummed in tentative response, studying your words and the way your mouth moved to create them, he couldn’t bring himself to agree- and yet, he couldn't ask what you meant. He feared that he wouldn’t like the answer. 

You would say these things to Dean from time to time, sharing tidbits about love, life, things you had learned in your years and carried with you wherever you went. It felt nice to have something to offer to him in exchange for the labor of loving you. His responses were often full of praise and piety as he kissed down your body in a practiced map of places, rhythmically, as if speaking in a secret language that only you two could decode. 

Dean loved you during late nights and early mornings when you were your most peaceful and soft. In these moments he would look outside to see the silent moon or the rising sun, and smile to himself- as if it had been you who hung them there, just for him. Dean loved you on the drive home after finishing a hunt, when he kicked Sam to the back seat just to have you close, to feel your fingers bless his knuckles with your touch as he gripped the gear shift and hummed along with a melody. The lyrics never mattered anymore- to him, every piece of music was a love song he wrote to you. 

Dean would watch you. He took you in like a piece of art- one he had waited in line for years to catch a glimpse of, just to be told that he could take the exhibit home. All the velvet ropes had fallen and the warning signs were painted over. Please, do not touch the art. And so he would. His fingertips would trace over your brushstrokes and he would compliment the artistry, always grateful to have been given a closer look. 

Your gravity was enough to pull him in from wherever he wandered, though he never wandered far if he could help it. It felt as though you were what rooted him to time and space. Early in your relationship, silence was rare, but in times when the two of you would sit and share slices of it like an orange, he swore he could hear the buzzing of your life force. After a while, he could hear his own, too. And eventually, he would revel in the way your energies would harmonize and dance around each other in a well-rehearsed routine, swirling together and swaying to their own silent rhythm- two beings in love and intertwined in their own right. 

He was scared to lose you- of course he was. He would beg for you to stay behind on hunts, or fling himself between you and the monsters you’d encounter. But in some ways, Dean felt you were most likely invincible. You were made of sunlight and stardust, how could anything kill that? And he felt you were too tied into his life to ever lose you- as if he had already peered through a window into his future and seen you in it, waving back at him. You would be there, he didn’t have to worry. It was a feeling that was so strikingly out of his nature that it grabbed hold of him and didn’t let go. He told you about this feeling once, and it comforted and worried you all at the same time. But the next hunt rolled around and he remained your fierce protector, taking on many of the injuries that would’ve befallen you had he not stepped in. As you stitched him up in a peaceful quiet, he mused- 

“I think I’m starting to understand that whole “to love is to hurt” thing. You laughed. Dean beamed. The hunting, the fighting, the saving the world. All of it was worth it. He would do it all, just so you would patch him back up afterwards with a kiss and a smile. Sometimes you would play soft music and hum to him- in these moments, he would close his eyes and if he hadn’t known any better, he would’ve thought he was in heaven. If it was his heaven, why was he in pain? As he watched you work, he came to an easy decision. He would cut himself open, over and over again for eternity, just for the chance to see your eyes narrow in focus and your mouth purse in concentration as your nimble hands worked to stitch his wounds. Just to feel the vibrations of your lips as they planted a kiss to his cheek mid-melody. He felt his pain was an offering that you rewarded with your presence, and it was an exchange he would happily make throughout his life and far beyond his death. 

Dean cherished the moments when the world outside his door faded into insignificance. You were the master switch that shut off the chaos, leaving him to bask in the warmth of your body and soul. But it took a while for Dean to realize the indelible mark you had left on him. He hadn’t spent more than a moment without you since you had first met- a hunter’s life didn’t leave much room for privacy, but that worked to his advantage in the early days. But you had left for a night, having to take care of a family obligation, pressing him a tender kiss and a don’t miss me too much as you rolled out the door that afternoon. And that night, tucked into your side of the bed in an effort to feel closer to you, Dean couldn’t sleep. Things that hadn’t crossed his mind in years went racing back and forth, round and round on a track until he couldn’t breathe- as if they had been chasing him every lap. When he closed his eyes, all of the memories he had stuffed in the closet and under the bed had spilled into a great big room and he was buried in the rubble. And when he opened his eyes and looked out at the moon, it seemed distant and cold, like it belonged to someone else. So he picked up the phone and called you, his body softening at the sound of your voice and falling asleep to the murmur of your words. He woke early, busy researching a case with Sam, but in a brief moment of stillness in the morning, he realized this was what she really meant. I get it now. Thankfully, you were home by dinnertime with a slice of your grandmother’s pie and a few crazy family stories to tell. Dean practically floated to you and wrapped you in a hug you had to beg him to release you from. 

It hadn’t been until your absence that Dean realized how much still lurked below the surface. While your presence gilded every facet of Dean’s life with a warm, glowing gold, he still hurt, ached, withered when you were gone. And it wasn’t until this realization that Dean understood the labor it was to love him. And it made him want to be better. 

The first time Dean opened up to you was a rainy spring evening. Then again one summer afternoon. He spent August feeding you breadcrumbs from his childhood. And he told you about his time in Hell in late October. You remembered this because you had looked out the window and resonated with the way the leaves trembled and fell from the trees. You raised a shaky hand to his cheek and wiped a tear and swore to Dean that he would never go through that pain again. And Dean, who had just relived each excruciating moment all over again, just for her, spoke. 

“I- I get it now. To love is to hurt because it forces you to be better. And it hurts because you take on a whole second person’s pain, wanting to spare them from it. And to love is to hurt because-”

You raised a finger to his lips and then replaced it with a kiss. And you smiled. And you leaned into his chest. And you let things be still. And so did he. 

[edgeray]

Hello 🍉anon again, hope you’re doing okay and I hope my writing is not atrocious for this request. This idea has been on my mind for an Arlecchino x dragon reader(similar to Neuvillette). So, Arlecchino receive a report from her operatives that an unknown creature is lurking in the shadow near Poisson, that keeps on attacking the others fatui members and stealing their rations. She tells them that she will look into it eventually as she doesn’t want their ressources to be stolen. She starts to investigate to gather information on this creature and possibly locate it and by a twisted turn of fate, stumbles into a dragon(secretly the reader)that look awfully hurt and almost on the verge of dying. Arlecchino took pity on the rather tiny looking dragon (tought it seems to be an adult one) and brought them to the house of the heart to treat their wounds.

As the times pass and Arlecchino started to grow fond of the dragon, she see in the corner of the room, a human. Visibly confused, she starts to draw her scythe ready to impale the person in front of her should they pose a threat. Then the reader just go up to her and nuzzle into her as if it was the most natural thing in the world and it was at this moment that she realized it was the dragon she had rescued. They start to bond and eventually grow more intimate with each others.

My Little Fire

(Arlecchino x GN! Reader)

A/N -  Hi 🍉 Anon! Nice to see you again <3. Sorry this took so long. I just spoiled you guys with dragon arle, but how about dragon reader? Great idea, anon. Y'all really love dragons huh? Dragons are cool af, I don't blame you guys.  Unfortunately, I dunno a whole lot of genshin lore, so how genshin dragons work, idrk. I made you a Pyro Dragon, because bonding over fire abilities >>>  Dunno why I was so braindead while writing this, but that's why this took me an extra day to write this. By the way, the title is the english translation of the last three words. I headcanon that Arlecchino can speak Fontainian (French).  Content warnings / info - monster x human, reader is a dragon, reader is referred to ‘it’ for the most part, not second pov until the middle, arle's pov, reader is gn!, 1.7k words

Arlecchino didn't typically deal with these sorts of outings, not when her job typically dealt with information gathering and diplomacy. However, she couldn't turn a blind eye to this report in another Fatui camp situated in Poisson. Purportedly, rations have been going missing despite attempts to secure and protect them. Fatui operatives have been injured, and while Arlecchino does not doubt that some incompetence may have come into play, she does not believe that they are truly that incompetent. The operatives confirm that it is some type of creature, given the claws marks and the teeth indents the harmed operatives detailed. Whatever it was, it was too quick for the members to see, and so she now had to deal with it. 

Arriving at the camp, witness accounts didn't prove to be very helpful in terms of identifying the troublesome critter. However, the storage room, where the rations were stored, provided an interesting story to her. Unsurprisingly, clawed scratches littered around the containers of food, though she notices the indentures were caused by rather small paws. Despite the suggestion that the creature was rather tiny, it did not mean that creature was not weak, able to cut through solid metal. Interestingly enough, scorch marks also surrounded the area, even though there were no burns recorded in the injury accounts. The creature also seems rather famished. Each occurrence it raids the storage room, a considerable amount of food was stolen. Fascinating. Arlecchino can think of very few creatures like this but all of them seem implausible. 

However, there was a pattern to this creature’s visits. Every three nights, it came, wrecking havoc to whatever was in its way, but Arlecchino is sure that she'd be successful in capturing the beast tonight. She orders that no operatives are around the area–the last thing she desires is some inept fool getting in her way–and then she waits outside. 

It's near midnight when she first sees a glimpse of the creature's silhouette, about the size of a cat, but she can make out a long tail with spikes. Just as she anticipated, the creature appeared, flying through the open window she purposely opened. It pauses at the entrance, as if observing the lack of guards, but not questioning it as it dashes across the floor. Either this isn't a very smart creature, or its desperation for food outweighs the risks. Regardless, it just made a mistake. 

She uses her speed to enter the room before the creature has time to react, standing in front of the window it entered through. She closes the window, her eyes narrowing down on the now cornered beast. A scaled creature, with horns and wings. Its ears flattens against its head and their wings press against its body, imitating the fearful behavior a mutt would display. The longer she observers the creature the more she realizes that these traits match those of a dragon, albeit a very small dragon. She wonders if this was just a hatchling. 

The small dragon snarls at her, and a blaze emanates from its spine, the flames coursing down to its tail. The bright flames illuminate the dragon's features more, and it's when she notices that blood is spewing from a gruesome cut on its leg. 

An injured Pyro Dragon? It's terribly small, and she can't imagine how this one is still alive given its injury. Although the fire is an indicator it's a mature adult, the size is a cause of concern. What a pitiful thing.  

Arlecchino’s eyes flicker over to the box that the dragon tried getting into. As she approaches it, the dragon snarls, tensing its body to lunge at her at any second, however, she simply ignores it. Opening the lid, she's met with thick cuts of raw meat. She takes several cuts of the meat from the insulated container, before holding it out in front of the dragon. If the dragon needs raw meat, she has a particular selection of premium raw meat for herself that she could use for the dragon. 

“Eat,” she demands as she offers the food. The dragon, still maintaining its anxious behavior, stalks closer, sniffing the food before it latches its teeth on the steak. 

“I have as much meat as you could want, better quality as well. I'll feed you, shelter you, and take care of that cut for you. Come with me.” She says, offering another slab of meat. 

The dragon doesn't respond, nor stop eating, but its body relaxes. By the time it reaches its last piece of meat, it's eating out of her hand. Arlecchino uses the close proximity to examine the dragon's injuries. The dragon nudges its head against her hand, and Arlecchino strokes the dragon's head. 

“Will you come home with me?” 

The dragon gives her an affirmative croak. 

—

The dragon did not grow any larger even in the months it stayed with her, nor did it transform into its human form yet. Its wound had been festering for quite a while, however under her care, it is healing remarkably quickly. Arlecchino proposes that the dragon is using its energy to heal from the wound. Had the dragon not done so, it would have surely met an agonizing fate. This continuous depletion didn't allow for the  dragon to grow in size, transform, or use its powers and it would have continued in that state for years had she not rescued it. 

It must be because of this that the dragon does not take long to get attached to her.

The dragon always sticks near her, sometimes physically on top of her. If it's not on her shoulder or head, then it's on her lap. Getting accustomed to how clingy the dragon is was a struggle, but she soon learns. 

If she'd allow it, it'd follow her everywhere. It's almost endearing. 

It only took three days for the dragon to sneak into her bedroom. The morning after, she awakened with an unfamiliar weight over her torso, and she found that the dragon was nestled on top of her. The next night that she slept, it was nuzzled against her neck and sprawled over her right shoulder. She'd be lying if she said it was an unwelcome sight, and it became a nightly occurrence. 

Often the dragon would play and entertain the House of the Hearth children. Sometimes, it'd accompany her outside, but only on certain missions. After all, she needed to test the dragon’s abilities in its current condition, and who better to test it on than the scum of Fontaine? 

Something else she finds intriguing is that the dragon devours fire, much like how the Iudex fancies his water, though the dragon is particular to her blood flames than any typical flames. On occasion, she uses her powers as a treat that the creature happily indulges in. 

Arlecchino only wonders what more she would learn once the dragon finally transforms. 

—

Arlecchino returns to the House of the Hearth after another irritating Harbinger meeting, rather exasperated and irked by some of the impudence and dimness of her ‘coworkers.’ She reaches her bedroom, exhaling a sigh. Before she enters, she hears scuffling from beyond her bedroom door. Her door is slightly cracked open, implying that someone had entered during her absence. From the small opening of her door, she catches a glimpse of a figure. Instantly, her eyes narrow and she withdraws her scythe. 

Intruders have no place in her house. She knows that no children are inside, as it's one of the first things she's instilled when they first come: stay away from her room under any circumstance. So who is this audacious soul that dares trespass into her chambers?

Upon opening the door, she does not expect the speed of her assailant, as a figure crashes into her, wrapping their arms around her neck, face pressed against her neck. Arlecchino is momentarily stunned by the action, but for some reason, it feels familiar. The body is abnormally hot, too warm for a human being. This isn't someone she recognizes, and she was about to throw the being off of her when she paused. A purr erupts from the other person's throat, the vibrations coursing through the Harbinger. 

“Arle…” the person murmurs, the name making Arlecchino hesitate. They lean away, tilting their head and glancing up at her, and then her breath hitches. Vibrant, slitted eyes stare back at her, that gaze only belonging to a certain dragon she knows. 

“You're the–”

“–Dragon. It's finally nice to meet you, Arlecchino,” you say, as you finally uncoil your arms around her. Arlecchino observes you for longer, her scythe disappearing. Now that there's no threat, Arlecchino takes the time to observe your human form. 

“Are you fully healed?”

You nod, giving her a soft smile. “I am. Thank you. I'm indebted to you. I'm sure you know of this, but I would not have survived for much longer if it weren't for your help. If you'd allow me, I'd like to work under you as a repayment. I'm sure you'd like what I have to offer.” 

Arlecchino closes her eyes, a ghost of a smile appearing over her lips. “Very well.” 

—

Arlecchino learns many things about you. She learns of your favorite food, which happens to be her blood fire. The way you favor your meat served and how you're incredibly food-excitable. She learns that your wings and tails are incredibly sensitive underneath her fingertips and she is well aware that she abuses this knowledge. She learns that your presence lifts her heart and it’s only you that can appreciate her curse. 

Your favorite touch from her is your head. Everyday, she'd pat you on the head the same way she did the night she saved you. Kissing your forehead and carding through your hair are close seconds.

She learns that there are some things that don't change even with your new form. While you never return to your small size in your dragon form, it does not mean you still do not linger around her, sitting in her lap when she's at her desk. You still play with the children, often acting as the ‘Mother’ role that the children did not have. And every night, you return to her bedside, embraced in her arms. 

There are a few things that have changed with your new form. Arlecchino feels as if you've rekindled her, your love is another flame in her veins that doesn't scorch her being, but instead, you warm her soul, consuming her cursed blood flames. 

It's what inspires the name that she always calls you before you drift to sleep. 

“Mon petit feu.”

[reptileyan]

moth boy is in your house and keeps wrecking the place and you think he's a demon but he's fluffy and he squeaks

For Anyshiptober 🎃

Cw nsft, mental illness, paranoia, religious trauma/fear of demons (reader is safeish but very afraid)

Also the darling monster in this is an adult, but short, cute, feral and referred to as such.

You've been ignoring it for days.

You only see it at home, sitting on your couch like it lives there. It doesn't speak. It chitters sometimes. You assume it doesn't exist, you've seen things that aren't there before.

But this one stays, and stays and stays.

It looks like a void. Or a moth. You don't look directly at it for a few weeks. And then you don't look at anything, because it shorts out the electricity by touching your favorite lamp, shattering the glass.

It shrieks, and you curl up on the floor. You've finally lost it. It's cold and dark. And something unreal is messing with you. Probably a demon, your paranoia about one finally finding you tearing your anxious heart to shreds. You can't move or cry.

Soft fluff presses up against you, panicked squeaks as it paws at you. Tears begin to fall, and you're shaking, and you just want to fall asleep. You can't live like this. You can't be alone, driven to madness, haunted or possessed or hallucinating in the cold dark.

You're being dragged across the floor, sharp tugs. Maybe it'll eat your soul or tear your heart out. It isn't very strong though. Oh yeah. You're heavy.

Monsters should be big, giant things that tower over you, growing as they feed on your fear. This one spends several minutes trying to hoist you up onto the bed. It gives up and drops you, gasps at the sound of your head hitting the floor, running its hands over your head. Satisfied with your condition, it skitters away. You hear shuffling, huffing as things are moved. Fabric against fabric. It spends a few minutes making what you figure is a portal to hell.

You are approached, and you brace for pain that keeps being delayed, your heart pounds so hard it hurts, your sobs returning. You are dragged again, lifted with great effort, and thrown onto a pile of pillows and stuffies and blankets. No portal opens. It's a nest.

The thing churrs as you lay there. And that's when you decide to move. Thrashing and screaming, managing to hit hardwood floors hard enough through the nest to break the skin on your knuckles. You can't hear its response over the screaming. Lighting appears, forms into chains that wrap around you, preventing further injury other than a mild shock. Not damaging, just strange, your hair standing up and you get a glimpse at its terrified face, eyes wide, feelers flat against its head, heavy breathing. Hyperventilating.

You don't calm down, you can't, until you nearly pass out. Exhaustion weighs you down, and the thing staggers over, hesitates, collapses in front of you. You manage to catch it before it hits the floor too hard, pulling it on top of you. It's so small against you, slight figure worryingly light, barely sinking into you. It's cold.

You draw a blanket over both of you. It sniffles. You take a stab in the dark, decide it's a boy. For no reason other than you decided to be a boy, and you like boys, and you'd prefer to have something in common. If it indicates it wants to be called otherwise, you'll call him something else. For now he doesn't seem to mind.

You breathe deep, shuddering sighs wrack your body. He follows suit. You gently, slowly, over several minutes, wrap your arms around it, waiting for noises that could mean panic or pain.

You get a soft churr, it grows louder as you stroke the fluff on its head. Fur. Mini feathers.

It feels nice.

Little lights appear in the air. Mini stars, crackling and burning out. Your companion turns over, cooing and pointing as if he doesn't know he's creating them. You ask quietly if he has fluff inside his head as well. He chitters, taps your face with his antennae. You flinch and the lights disappear, he curls up into himself, pulling away a bit. A few minutes of humming and petting, and a few return. Slowly, dimmer this time. Pretty still.

He wakes you to drag you to the window in a wild frenzy, gesturing at the sunrise, beaming and dancing when you look. Sharing the beauty with you.

You are tired, and want to sleep. But you can't, because he nudges you every time you lie back down, chirping and peeping. First playful, then bored, then worried, frantic as it shakes you with all its tiny might. So you have to get up, on a saturday, in the morning.

It's awful for ten minutes. Then you're having coffee, and cartoons are playing. The fluffy boy, your self designated shadow, happily perched on your lap, playing with your hair, running his hands over your body.

You sigh, deep and low, and he ruffles, gazing up at you with a smile, as he tugs at your shirt.

It takes him awhile to find a way underneath, but he's delighted when he does, sinking into your full chest, sweet chirps and churrs as he noses into you. You think he's fallen asleep, until he shifts, and starts to rock his hips into your belly. Something thick, and warm and velvet and slick prods against you, shoving its way into your belly fat, enveloped by you. He barely makes a sound for the first few moments, just pants. Then lights are everywhere and he is extremely loud, you're covering his mouth as he ruts into you and squeals with delight.

It doesn't occur to you to push him off, just to manage the noise and let it have his fun, the odd little thing is harmless enough. He cums within a minute and it's everywhere, copious amounts running down your chest and dampening his fluff as he nips and licks at you. Lovely.

The bath is the worst part, you don't get fully electrocuted, but you make a note to get a rubber hazmat suit or something.

He squeals indignantly, even after you wrap him in a dryer-warmed towel. Chuffing and stomping away to flop in the nest, you watch him go, and google what moths eat, and begin to draw a diagram indicating water plus electricity equals dead human.

It stomps back out before you can finish to chitter at you, climbing up your body, shivering. You decide he eats human food, and go back to your cartoons and blankets, mumbling an apology for daring to cleanse him as you order a pizza.

A power outage happened across a third of the city last night. Does anyone even sell rubber lamps? Rubber moth cages?

He nuzzles into you. The damp fluff feels weird.

He churrs and begins to rock into you again.

[theres-a-body-here]

Scumtober- Day 14 (Marking)

Guts x Male!reader drabble

Sequel post

Guts found himself intrigued by your presence.

You were no warrior; your nature was one of kindness and gentleness.

Recalling that day when the Skull Knight rescued him and Casca, Guts couldn't forget the image of you, clutching tightly to the enigmatic knight, your eyes firmly shut. You had arrived with the mysterious knight, seemingly playing no direct role in the battle, yet offering moral support. It was evident that you had never wielded a weapon in your life.

But, despite your non-combatant nature, you had a strange ability that disrupted the boundary between this world and the Astral World.

Guts found this out the night you had begun to travel with them. You offered no explanation as to why you left the safety of your Knightly guard to travel with him. You were stubborn and there was no changing your mind. Guts was certain you would die once night came. But to his surprise, the monsters that hunted him each night seemed disgusted by your presence, causing them to maintain a safe distance.

For the first time in a while, Guts was able to relax during the night. It didn't take long before Guts found himself further enamored by you.

Honestly, you had done it out of kindness, but maybe you shouldn't have poked the dragon. You simply wanted to know if your abilities could remove his brand mark.

They can't.

But it helped dull the pain when evil spirits were around, causing the brand to bleed and writhe with agony. Especially when you kiss it. You figured that one out by catching Guts off guard while he was undressed, much to his embarrassment. You just wanted to be helpful.

Guts was not amused. And as he pinned you to the cold ground, you wondered if maybe you pushed him too far.

It was only when you felt Guts's mouth pressed against your throat, that you realized maybe he wasn't mad at you.

Feeling Guts's hot breath on your skin sent chills running down your spine. As he began to suckle on your delicate flesh, a low moan escaped your lips. Instinctively, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, drawing him closer.

Your heart beat wildly in your chest, making you aware of just how close Guts truly was—his powerful body pressing down upon yours, his scent filling your nostrils, and his eye boring into yours with raw intensity.

You felt yourself growing flushed underneath Guts's intense gaze. Unable to bear the weight of his gaze any longer, you lowered your eyes, focusing instead on the night sky.

Without warning, however, Guts cupped your jaw firmly between two calloused fingers, forcing you to meet his fierce gaze once more. Then, before either of you had time to think twice about it, he leaned forward and claimed your lips with his own.

The kiss started out tentative—a mere brush of lips against each other. But soon enough, Guts deepened the connection, slipping his tongue into your mouth to explore its depths while occasionally using his teeth to nip playfully at your bottom lip.

Guts suddenly pulls away from you. Feeling his lips leave yours brought an unexpected wave of disappointment crashing over you. But it didn't last long, for he quickly moved on to kiss your neck once more.

"Does that skull fucker ever enjoy you like this?" Guts mutters darkly between kisses, referring to Skull Knight, whom you seem close with. His hand slithers behind your back and grabs a handful of your ass.

Somehow, amidst the stimulation, you managed to find your voice. "N-No..." you muttered, embarrassingly breathless. "Never."

At those words, Guts releases a primal growl of satisfaction as he begins to kiss your neck more feverishly.

Guts pressed his open mouth to your pulsing veins, suckling gently at first before applying more pressure. You let out a loud moan as you cling to his head, pulling him closer to your neck. The sight of your submission drove him wild, and he couldn't help but groan loudly as he continued ravishing your throat.

"Mine," Guts growled between kisses, his voice thick with desire. "Only mine now."

Each word was punctuated by another hungry kiss, each touch more desperate than the last. Each word echoed inside your head, causing you to arch your back in response to his dominance.

Each successive kiss left behind a swollen reminder of Guts's possession. Soon, purple marks covered your neck, shoulder, and chest—all bearing witness to the claim he had over you.

How the hell were you going to explain this to Skull Knight?

Scumtober 2023 Masterlist

[purrpletiger]

FRESH DRAWING GUIDE:

Hello everybody, I've come to give you all this absurd reference guide for drawing Fresh. yep. I decided to spend hours slapping this together.

If I got anything wrong or should add anything PLEEEASE lemme know! All ideas welcome!

If you want to see my "research" on this character, let me know in the replies, because there's so much to talk about with him and I'd love to do a character analysis or two, I couldn't put much about his personality or source posts in this because it's just a drawing guide!

Link to all the full images

Transcript and close-ups of the text on the image: (May be in a strange order)

Fresh was created by @loverofpiggies (CQ)

Main Outfit:

YOLO sunglasses

Backwards propeller cap

Pink Polo shirt

Crayola Jacket

Gold Tooth

SWAG fannypack

Convertible Zip-off pants

White Heelie shoes

Pink socks

He has thick eyebrows to emote! (The eyebrows are usually depicted with black hair but one human design has eyebrows that match the pink hair color!)

The bag says SWAG on it

His glasses say YOLO by default, but the letters can magically change mid-scene...

this design for Fresh is Tall, we dunno how tall but taller than CQ's Sans characters (or just Geno since he's literally sans undertale with some added steps). But his height is just his host's height sooo it can vary.

those (cyan and yellow) shoe details are on the innerside but not outerside

HE HAS HEELIES!

Pink glove cuffs!

his skateboard is inconsistent dont worry about it

Glasses Off:

The host's soul shows up in their left eyesocket

- The soul tends to look unstable (cracks & a sortve stroboscopic effect.. i couldn't think of a better word.) but not in some cases...

It doesn't have to be a white upside-down heart, that's just a reference to an undertale monster soul.

He has a purple substance full of little RADs that emanate from his eyesockets (when his sunglasses are off)

"The soul in Fresh's eyes CAN be cracked. That soul isn't his. it belongs to his host. And.... after a while.... things go bad for the host, and he needs a new one." -CQ

(example of soul with unstable effect with no cracks) (example of soul with cracks but lacking the effect)

The purple aura(?) can glow and emanate from the eyes when his glasses are on too

i miss this one design specifically. the colors and the SK8 OR B SK8 shirt were peak

I miss the SWAG necklace...

Fresh leaves a rainbow cloud of smoke when he "poofs". Either teleporting him and his host body somewhere or leaving his host behind.

Human Designs:

Fresh can possess humans too.

They all look physically different because they're different people that he's possessing.

Fresh can possess pretty much any body, but I thought I'd show the varied examples of humans anyway

Don't forget the orange jacket flaps! or his hat propeller!

I dunno what's up with the multicolor tongue thing. I think it was extra parasites in the host's mouth? I feel like it was scrapped at some point... but I could be wrong

FURBIES!:

Oh yeah, he also does this: (no image for the bat tho)

"I mean when he fights he pulls Furbies out of his magical fanny pack. takes out a wiffle bat. and hits the furby at his enemies.

And then the furby explodes in a blaze of glory." -CQ

Despite using some furbies as explosives, he seems to 'care' about and treat these two like precious babies:

This one is potentially named McFreshby The Fresh Furbrah (Fresh is mentioned to have one named that, and this is the only other furby he's been depicted with)

It can also do THIS: (roll its eyes back into a spookier look)

This is DJ FurBs. that's all i know about him

The REAL Parasite:

Fresh is actually this little parasite controlling a host body. (if you didn't know that why are you reading this post rn!?! but nah I love new Fresh fans, welcome!)

The main parasite is this purple one with the eyemouth and four(?) tendrils, the other colored tentacles are prrrobably Fresh's offspring (freshmageddon moment?) (I'm not actually sure, I'm just pretty sure they're not part of the main parasite but are parasite tentacles)

You can also see Fresh's five or more purple tendrils here stretching out all over his host's body

All art from CrayonQueen/@loverofpiggies

Reference guide made by PurrpleParrasite/@purrpletiger

pls suggest changes or additions if u have ideas!

That's all!

[open-hearth-rpg]

Modern Urban Fantasy B-Plots

Having finished my list of Superhero B-Plots, I immediately turned around and started working on another set for a different genre. It’s amazing what a potent combination stress, avoidance, and procrastination can be. These are based on my Supers B-Plot set, with 80% new prompts and the remaining 20% tweaked to fit.

This deck offers tools for secondary stories and hooks both weird and mundane. use these for downtime or to spark new plots. It is useful for GMs and players of ttrpgs like Monster Hearts, Urban Shadows, World of Darkness, Apocalypse Keys, and beyond. There are 180 prompts split into three categories:

Friends & Family: Problems and entanglements for NPCs in a player character's circle. Each is written loosely enough to be adaptable to all kinds of characters.

Personal Life: Things which happen in the day-to-day life of the PCs. These can be tweaked depending on if the character has a public identity or a daily grind job.

Supernatural Life: Events connected to the larger world of factions, magics, and arcane politics.

Because of the nature of the genre, I've written these to be flexible. Some terms can be used in several different ways. Hunters refers to any group pursuing the PCs. Bloodlines can refer to a family, order, or even type of supernatural (vampires, werewolves). Factions refer to authorities, in particular the person or people who give a particular PC their orders.

These prompts can be used by the GM to generate new plots and events, or players can draw an select from a story idea which appeals to them. Ideally One or two players each week can have a B-Plot which may or may not get resolved that session. It's a great device for covering downtime.

There's a link to a free rtf version at the post as well as to a print-and-play deck on itch.io.

[arts-by-omar]

Koishi komeiji heart throbbing adventures: Ragnarok

Urick has turned into a kaiju and name himself Ragnarok

[theamazingdigitalraceway]

WELCOME TO:

Banner and reference art by @iamespecter

Meet the racers! Reference page! Kart inspirations! "Blame" Animatic! Abel! "Joyride" Animatic!

The Halloween DLC Monster Designs

CHAPTER LINKS

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5 CH6 CH7 CH8 CH9 CH10 CH11 CH12 CH13 CH14 CH15(WIP)

SOFT CANON ONESHOTS

Burger (showtime)

Burgers And Ties (showtime)

Rev Theory (suggestive) (showtime)

Hearts (showtime)

Gummybunny

Don't Comfort Me (gummybunny)

Brotherly Hatred (Seth)

Echo (Seth)

Remembrance (SethxKinger)

God Maker (Abel)

NON CANON ONESHOTS

Joyride (NSFW) (SethxPomni)

Three Way (NSFW) (CainexPomnixSeth)

Attention Span (showtime)

Breather (actor AU)

FAQs & Request Rules: 👇👇👇👇👇

What is The Amazing Digital Raceway?

This is an AU based on The Amazing Digital Circus by Gooseworx

This AU takes place inside of a racing video game with surprises around every corner! It's a story of romance, mystery, and suspense!

What ships are in the AU?

Showtime and Abstragedy are the main features

But I'm a multi-shipper so who knows what will happen-

Can I make OCs, fanart or fanfiction?

YES! ALL THE YES! We welcome new racers with open arms!

Draw or write away!

You can also OC x Canon ship if you wish

What about NSFW?

Yes, however please be responsible. NO MINORS and tag such content properly

NSFW will be part of the AU, but will be avoidable for those who don't wish to read it

Do you allow Y/N insert requests?

Yes, you can request the characters reacting to SFW situations and shenanigans from "y/n" (I use it to exercise character traits)

Why sfw only? Because these are adult characters interacting directly with the reader in the prompt. I don't know how old the reader is and I'm not comfortable writing anything overtly romantic, suggestive, or NSFW for an unknown entity

Both serious and silly topics are okay

Where can I request extra content? (Not y/n)

Right here! The ask box is just above!

No request is guaranteed

Extra content can be anything as long as it falls within the boundaries

PLEASE KEEP IN MIND WHAT I WON'T WRITE:

[unholycateyes]

happy 32 followers!!!

i just wanna say thank you all i did cat eyes as just a funny lil thing to gain some experience making comics for future projects so iwont stop cat eyes till i either get board demotivated or till its finished lolz!

i've been in the fandom for years but this is my first real project so im happy you all seem to like it!!! i have big big plans!!!

and because you all seem to love cat eyes i made a new au called

ROCKEFELL

Their are mostly designs i hope they will all be seeable lol

this is what i've been working on! RockeFell! see im a boig fan of nightcore and underfell designs i'm also a huge nerd for old forgotten aus so what if a bunch of old aus were pulled in to one singularity point and combined the result is rockefell

now while alot of them are just designs i do have a story in mind! (feel free to draw them tho!!!))

but ill save that for later cuz i cant forget the guest section of the drawing!

i wanna thank @mioplaces and @grumpyghostdoodles for letting me draw their lovely characters (i also wanna say for comic papyrus i took big inspiration off a drawing i saw on google so credit to that artist for their killer design!!) i like to think cat and comic papyrus are reoccurring characters in rockefell

more info on specific characters

here we have chara age 13 the future of skating chara records and uploads skate videos to the undernet chara has an obsession with curvature seeing the curves in time, light and space

they also have a theme i made just a lil demo tho!

next we have asriel "the fry" dreemurr asriel is 11 and loves to skate asriel also has a hidden innate ability within him other monsters do not posses nor boss monsters and if you cant tell he loves dragon ball!

next we have frisk and flowey!!! frisk is a bit of a mean "girl" not taking shit from no one! frisk is still kind and caring but likes to mess with people a delinquent with a heart of gold!l frisk and flowey are best pals as well also frisk has a knife called the devils blade

i did more than just characters tho i did backgrounds!!

the ruins! a vast city filled with monsters but monsters need a fast way to get around too so i present the ruins railways!! and hidden within the ruins long forgotten is the secret garden! golly i wonder what thats a reference too lol

next we have snowedin aka snowedin hills!

next we have underfall city

i have some music for this!!

its just a like down town kinda area filled with sea monsters under a big dome

then i did judgment hall for funs lol

i hope you all liked this i put like so much work in to it haha!

[kosher-martian]

I'm making this post with full recognition that it might result in a bunch of hateful comments or asks, but I think it has to be said.

This morning I saw two completely unrelated posts (one on reddit and one on tumblr) that referred to Jews as "Jews of Conscience / Jewish People of Conscience" so as to draw contrast between the Jews being discussed and other Jews, based solely on their beliefs and attitudes concerning the Israel-Hamas War.

We really are just doing the whole "one of the good ones" schtick aren't we?

Why do we have to make these performative declarations of our beliefs to remain in the good graces of the self-appointed "good people"? What does that say about the "good people" and their "good politics"? And what does it say about us if we seek their approval?

This is the inevitable outcome of both purity politics and hyper-regimented discourse, which themselves are the consequence of deriving the entirety of one's political litmus test from maximalist sloganeering echo chambers.

This method of forming "good politics" reduces the complexity of the human experience into a simple "us vs them" dynamic, where the dividing line between the two is whether you upvoted or downvoted a screenshot of a pithy tweet.

It frames the world as one with "good people" and "bad people", where those on the side of "good" are scene as virtuous and well-intentioned whereas those on the side of "bad" are at best misinformed and at worst malevolent, sinful monsters. As someone whose virtue has not yet been determined, one who has not declared their affiliation is to be distrusted until they either:

Profess the beliefs of the "good people" without exemption, adopting them whole cloth and never questioning by whom those beliefs were made or whom those beliefs serve.

"Out" yourself as a "bad person".

I want to specifically call attention to that second option. It is always framed as a revelation. Not a sudden change of heart. Not a slow alienation. Not changing material conditions that alter the way someone perceives the world. All "good people" are actually "bad people" (except you, the only true "good person") and it's only a matter of time until someone "reveals who they really are". Everyone is lying about what they actually believe. It's a low-trust environment where every alliance (social, political, etc.) is one of convenience, to be continued until your ally inevitably betrays you for the other side.

To me, the only thing being revealed is the intellectual dishonesty of it all. It's no wonder that you suspect everyone else of lying, because it's exactly what you do. If the only reason you believe something is for the treats and status that believing it gains you, you don't actually believe it. The thing you actually believe is saying whatever is necessary for the treat dispensing machine to dispense your treats.

And so we circle back to the phrase "Jews of Conscience" and what that really means: It means (for the Nth time in Jewish History) Jews are not to be trusted until we "prove" our allegiance to the "good side" or "reveal" our allegiance the "bad side".

[rei-ismyname]

X-Men #6 FROM THE ASHES

Last issue is starting to make a lot more sense - I think Jed McKay might have strong feelings about the Morrison era. Spoilers, obviously.

Hi Xorn! Hi Magneto! Good to have you join us. It's nice to see Magneto is progressive, polite and welcoming. It's still an ideological regression from where he was at in X-Men Red/RoM/Uncanny X-Men #700, but I guess he's mostly scenery in this comic sadly. As a fellow disabled burden on society I empathize with him, but I'd like to see him still be a character of focus. Otherwise, why put him in the book? It's a shame his moment makes Xorn look like a fool - is that really his first question? Dude is a fucking monk and these people are right there.

He's wearing his Morrison/Quitely uniform too, which is not a great comparison to be drawing imo. He was last seen hanging out with his brother and Legion in Way of X, but I suppose this is as good a place as any for him to be now. Hopefully we see more of him.

Look how much Quentin has grown since Riot at Xavier's. Or maybe he's depressed. Either way he's definitely looking sharp. Idie notices one of the protesters throwing up the M.

People want Beast to solve their problems but he doesn't have the same experience and knowledge as old Beast, not that X-FORCE Beast did any of that. It's a character beat, but one we've seen before. Maybe he'll learn magic again! Magik is still very defeatist it seems, and perhaps her determination is waning. Can't say I blame her.

Quiche is dope but jokes about it aren't. Not this millennium. The Glob/Quentin dynamic is another Morrison callback. Don't worry, there's plenty more this issue 🙄. One pitfall with light-hearted quippy nostalgia is it undermines serious events happening next to it and gives mood whiplash. Somehow Idie knows Ilyana is communicating secretly with her brother. It doesn't come up again. Based on how McKay has been seeding beats we'll find out in issue #10.

Okay, so we know Magik is smart and now Idie does too. It'd be nice if more of this team started acting like friends - maybe this is the start of something beautiful. I can't say I buy Magik undermining Cyclops on a whim but she lays out the dilemma then puts Idie in charge.

They walk into the trap by putting Cobb Sr to sleep. Idie's secret is pretty cute and an effective 'cost of magic' shorthand. I am wary that it refers to nostalgia about a time that was already hyper nostalgia, but I'm getting used to it. We get to see the Cobb family dynamic, utterly predictable.

I enjoy everything on this page.

- Cyclops and Psylocke sparring

- Expanding on Hank and Mags' budding relationship with reference to their history.

- Building on Beast's fear of becoming a monster again.

- Magneto being emotionally supportive.

No new information here, though I love a jab at Fabian Cortez. This is more of a reference than anything else, though it's good to see some self awareness from Max. Although, Cortez showed a lot of growth on Krakoa.

This is a nice moment too. This version of Hank was a massive horn dog. Not saying that's where it's going but he's gregarious and it does make sense to have him be welcoming to another non-passing mutant. Glob too, though he comes off as massive dork. We still don't know much about Jen or Ben which makes it hard to get invested. If they do stick around they'd be inflating a cast that's already being covered unevenly.

Okay, Piper is here and Scott isn't pleased. Idie would have a point but it would have taken 2 minutes to talk about it. Yeah she asked for help and came willingly but as Scott says she's a minor. Her home life looks miserable and tracks closely enough to many queer experiences, but society unfortunately says children are property. It sucks, but she needs support. Nobody wins when her mother calls the cops. Is this about Piper or Idie here? I would love to see Idie being the moral core of the team but this just makes her look naive and impulsive - which is at odds with her 15+ years of characterisation. She was in jail last year!

Piper reveals that the 'Wild Sentinel' was after her and the Iron Night was her 'fault.' It's left on a cliffhanger but let's hope this doesn't torch the X-Men's relationship with Merle, Alaska.

The Morrison thing - Psychic rescue, Quentin and Glob, scientists making mutants, Cassandra Nova, Xorn is still in his uniform from the time, wild sentinel mention (which is super bizarre and out of place.) It's a lot and I'm probably missing stuff. My question is who this is for? New readers will just be confused. Morrison super fans are more likely to roll their eyes, judging by responses to last issue.

Overall this issue was pretty good. It progressed the plot, gave us time with the 3 characters who'd been ghosts, introduced new information and setup conflict with the town for next issue. I really wish the creative team would get their batting average a little higher in terms of solid issues. 33.3% is low enough in the abstract to make me drop the book - and this is one of the better ones. I know we can do better than this and it disappoints me how aggressively mid the X-books are right now.

I'm starting to recognise the formula they're working off, with information dribbling out at a snail's pace to the point that any issue becomes skippable then ending on a cliffhanger that's rarely paid off quickly. Uncanny has the same issue, which makes me think it's an editorial problem. Hell, solicits usually give more information than issues do. I'm not talking about tropes, I'm talking about the narrative tricks that allow them to publish issues that move at a glacial pace and use nostalgia to disguise the characters not being developed. One can hope :)