#only by the power of body doubling have i been able to get ANYTHING done

[bamsara]

How is prep for Momocon going?

I just helped my friend/travel buddy with her cosplay all day today and my entire room and self smells like sharpie (but we got so much done and I fixed part of her cosplay she thought was unsalvegable) (it's also her birthday today lol, why ive been absent today)

My own cosplay is uh, lacking and needs work rn. I have everything to make it but my energy is being spent on patreon envalopes, writing and helping my friend with her own cosplays.

Status:

Solar Lunacy Jacket: sleeves and hood attatched, no red prices yet, no Freddy head on the back yet, I have yet to finish the patch. No small area of random red thread stitching (hehe) and no bear ears made yet. No idea how I'm gonna be able to do the bear ears yet

Sun and Moon: same cosplay as last year but when I pulled them out of the closet I realized how....bad I made them djjdjdjg. Need to do some alterations, redo the wrist ribbon and bells completely and also put foam clay over their masks and repaint them.

Hopefully I can do this all in, uh. Two weeks. Yeah. :D

[luvrxbunny]

need

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

Prompt: Thigh Fucking

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, piv attempts, hurt pussy, some sad feelings, creampie(?)  (lmk if I forgot anything)

WC: 2.5k

A/N: *sulking in a corner* not proofread at all

He’s gotten used to it, the constant stabbing pain at the base of his stomach, the daydreams and fantasies that plague his every free minute. He’s more sensitive too, you can do anything and it’ll turn him on, make him hard, or raise a new fantasy for him to jerk off to later that night. He got used to waking up in the morning with a throbbing pain between his legs, or a cold wetness soaking his underwear. He got used to having to sneak away to the bathroom, lock himself in his office with his blinds pulled shut because you decided to drop by, or you made him lunch and left a note that was a bit too cute for him to handle. 

He never asked why you didn’t seem to have any sexual interest in him. He assumed that you either didn’t want him that way, or you weren't ready. So when you told him that the real reason was because you’re a virgin… His pain increased tenfold. All his fantasies, all the material he could think of late a night became visions of him taking your virginity, working his fat cock into your tight, unused, untouched, hole. It became a hindrance to his day, something he thought about more than he worried about canon events. He couldn’t get you out of his head, he didn't want to pressure you so he didn’t voice desperation, but it’s like you were trying to provoke him. 

You became more open, more okay with talking about sex, and your fantasies and asking him questions, voicing your curiosities. He found out that you actually think about him quite a bit, almost all the time apparently. There was an entire night, filled with a few blunts and alcohol where you spent hours, literal hours, telling him about all the fantasies you’ve had. You told him about your most used ones, all the ‘odd’ things that turn you on. He had to hide his boner, almost crushing his beer in his hand with how tense he was and his needs doubled again, turning his blood to molten lava.

Then you offered it to him, you came to him and told him you wanted him to be the one who takes your virginity, you wanted his cock to be the first to enter your special little cunt. He almost blacked out. He came at you like a frenzy that night, licking and sucking every part of your body before working you open and lining himself up with your precious hole. Only to find that he couldn’t fit. You couldn’t take all of him, he was able to get a quarter of his dick inside before tears were streaming down your face. You told him he could keep going, that you could take it but you were on the verge of sobbing, there wasn't one break in your stream of tears and this is not the way he wanted you crying on him. He pulled out against your will and spent the night comforting you, telling you it’s fine, that you can try again, as many times as you need… and that's what you guys did. 

It’s been about two months of trying to fit him inside you and it’s becoming unbearable. You guys try every other night, sometimes taking more time in between if you’re too sore or you guys are swamped at work. You guys haven’t done anything else in this entire period of time, wanting the next thing you do together, to be him taking your virginity. He agreed not realizing how long it would take. His hand is nowhere near sufficient anymore, no matter how he tries to pretend it’s yours- especially now that he’s had half his dick inside you. It’s a cycle of build-up, tease, Miguel comforting you, and no-release. 

You’re both pent-up. It’s another night of disappointment, you guys had gotten a little further this time, almost his whole cock and you began to think that this was it, Miguel was finally going to have your virginity. Instead, you tore. It was small, it didn’t even feel like much, a sharp burn at the base of your hole. You decided you would just power through, the burn was worth the fulfillment you’d feel at taking him all, at long last, having your boyfriend be completely connected with you, completely surrounded by you. But Miguel knew you were bleeding, there wasn’t enough that he could see it but he could smell the copper in the air and he forced you to stop. 

You fell asleep upset with yourself and listening to Miguel’s loving words, assuring you he’d rather you enjoy yourself than power through for him but you just felt like a failure. All your life you dreamed of losing your virginity to someone you love, someone who cares about you, someone who deserves it, and now that you’ve finally found that person, you can’t even give it to him. You’re too embarrassed to concede, to give up and jerk him off instead. You want him to cum inside you, you’ve even started birth control secretly, hoping to surprise him once he gets close enough. You’d fantasized about the moan he’d let out once telling him that he can just cum inside you, but you’re too small to even get him anywhere near cumming, let alone inside you. 

You wake up to Miguel groaning in pain, you’re a bit scared at the noise but your fear gets replaced by sadness once you see the source of his pain; a fat bulge resting over his thigh, tenting the sheets slightly. You peak up at his face, making sure it’s slack with sleep before focusing on his hard cock again. You sit, lift your head and rest it on your palm, leaning over Miguel a bit as your other hand comes to stroke over the bulge gently. Your eyes are fixed on his face, watching his eyebrows twitch with your touch. It brings a little rush of pleasure through you, knowing you can pleasure him with the slightest bit of pressure. 

You cover him with your hand, cupping it to feel its length and girth against your palm. He whimpers lightly, a sound you’ve never even fantasized about hearing from him, but you know that no matter what you do, you need to hear it again. You can feel his warmth and the way he’s pulsing under your hand, his fingers dig into the sheets gently next to his thighs and his hips lift off the bed momentarily, trying to pleasure himself with you. 

Your eyes leave his face to watch his movements, deciding to give him some mercy and rub your hand along his shaft, stimulating him through his sweatpants and the thin blanket. You’re mesmerized by his stuttering, sleepy movements, at the soft whimpers that fall loosely from his lips. A gasp breaks the trance and his hands lift from the bed quickly to grip your wrists and his hips thrust up, forcing your palm to put pressure on his sensitive cock and just stay. “B-Baby- ”

His voice is thick and confused with delirium, still not completely aware of what’s happening but all he knows is he doesn’t want you to stop. He’s buzzing, thrumming, and vibrating with arousal, with desperation for you, need for you.  

His eyes meet yours in the dark, taking in your obviously turned-on state, how dilated your eyes are and how your sweet scent is already soaking the air, your taste ghosting over his tongue with every breath he takes. His eyes roll back at the thought, paired with your pressure on his throbbing cock and you pull away. He tries to hold in his groan, trying to be grateful for anything you’ll give him but a small squeak of sadness is what comes out and he chuckles softly at the noise. 

You’re still silent, surrounded by your need for him, the only thought in your head is that you need to make him cum. His thick arm comes around you, resting next to your shoulder and pushing you to him gently, nudging you in his direction for a kiss. You smile and drape yourself over his chest, leaning on him and pressing your lips to him. He groans and pulls you closer, admiring your warmth and pressing his cock into the plush of your thighs as he pulls you on top of him. You giggle and help him situate you over him, the base of his cock resting against your neglected clit, sending a shock of pleasure through you and turning your giggles into a light whine. 

Miguel breathes in a sharp breath at your noise, trying to ignore how badly he wants to hold you down and just grind his cock into you until he cums, staining his clothes and hopefully leaving a mark on yours but he keeps himself in check, offering you a fond smile instead. “You okay, amor?” His hand is rubbing up and down your back now, calmly like he isn’t throbbing against your clit right now. You think of just grinding into him, sitting up to straddle him,  and just fucking his bulge into your clit until you’re cumming all over him. “I wanna cum.” Your voice is weak and pathetic, tired and desperate. 

His eyelids flutter at your words and tone, and his arms tense around you, pressing his muscles into your sides for a moment before taking a deep breath. “Yeah? I can-” He takes another shaky breath as his cock throbs beneath you. “I can make that happen, baby. How do you want it?” His stomach is burning at his words, at the hope of getting to touch you, to make you cum. You’re just staring at him, watching him as you think, trying to figure out a way that will satisfy you both. He’s just getting hotter under your gaze, riled up further by your eyes as his hips rise off the bed slowly, pressing his cock into you subconsciously and his eyelids flutter shut at the pleasure.

Your brain is hazy with his movements, his subtle desperation, it’s driving you crazy. You arch your back and seize his lips again with a soft moan. His hands grip your hips, pulling you into him with a groan. You pull away and pant against his lips, running your fingers through his slightly tangled curls and pressing your forehead against his. “Put it against me. Between my thighs.” He growls at your request and flips you both onto your sides, already nodding at you and working his sweatpants off of his legs, kicking them off under the covers. “You want that, honey?” 

His hand cups your face as his other wrestles his cock from its confines. “You want that? Take these off.” He yanks at your underwear, roughly enough that they dig into your skin harshly before snapping back. You wiggle them off and slide your shirt off, wanting to be as close to Miguel as you can. You can’t stop the pout that settles on your face when you realize he plans to leave his shirt on. He laughs lovingly at your face. “Want me to take it off?” He says with a teasing tilt to his voice. You laugh and slide closer to him, taking the hem of his shirt into your hands and already trying to pull it over his head. “Jus wanna be closer t’you, Miggy.” 

The nickname flips something inside him. You only use that name when you’re feeling extra soft for him, extra tender, and needy. “Yeah, sweetheart?” He pulls you in for a quick kiss before taking his shirt off and kissing you again, swallowing the whine you give him when your naked body rests against his. His wet cock slides against your skin, teasing his sensitive tip, forcing a ragged moan from his mouth when it slides over your mound. You giggle at his reaction, smiling at his eyes, squeezed shut as he takes slow breaths, trying to calm himself. You open your legs, grip his cock, and rest it on your thigh, his eyes snap open. You smile and pull him in for another kiss as he reaches behind him blindly for some lube, lotion, coconut oil- something to get your thighs anywhere near as wet as your pussy is. 

You take rest your hand over his as he rubs himself with lube, moaning into your mouth at the sensation. He brings his hand to your face, giggling and apologizing when it smears with lube but devouring you in a kiss once you tell him it’s okay. You close your legs over his cock and whimper into the kiss when his shaft fits itself between your lips. He pulls away with a moan and his hips start fucking into you fervently, overly sensitive and desperate after months of denial. You’re moaning loud and whiny at the way he’s assaulting your clit, constantly stimulating her from the way he’s thrusting against you. You’re digging into his shoulders, feeling the way they flex as his hands grip your hips and run all over your body frantically. 

“I’m not gonna last, mi amor.” The words spit out of him quickly as his thrusts get shorter, more focused on making himself cum than making the moment last. His head is clouded with need, his balls are pulsing painfully and his cock is throbbing between your thighs. You’re gripping his hair like you’ll fly away if you let go and moaning his name like it’s the only word you know. Your hips are bucking into him too now, some incoherent words falling from your lips like music to his ears. 

You’re trying to tell him that you won’t last either, that you’re on the brink of cumming already, that you’ve been craving him for months, and finally having him is one of the best things you’ve felt but your brain has been shut off since he started moving his hips. You can feel the heat in your stomach bubbling over already, spilling into your bloodstream as you shake against him. “Mig-” Your thighs tense and shake around his cock as he groans your name, almost overwhelmed with how you’re stimulating his cock, at how you’ve been unable to get any sound out but once you’re cumming you can find the strength to say his name. You’re shaking on him, your eyes are rolled back into your head and your jaw is dropped open in a silent moan. 

He’s able to grunt out a warning to you before thrusting once- twice- you reach down for his cock and spread your legs, opening to fit him against your entrance. His third thrust stutters to a stop and he’s cumming. 

Fuck. He’s cumming inside you. 

He folds over like he’s been punched in the gut, a rough moan tearing from his chest as his cock throbs against your wet walls. He sounds distraught, like you’ve ruined him. His entire body is tensing in time with the ropes of cum he’s filling you with. It’s an entire flood, a surplus of cum he’s pouring into you, he feels like he’s died and gone to heaven. He never even imagined that you’d let him cum inside you, let alone that it’d feel so fucking good. He shudders out a groan and holds you to his chest, giving you curt thrusts to ensure he doesn’t push in too deep but still trying to fuck him cum into you. His eyes are crossed painfully and all the air is gone from his lungs as you pulse around him, massaging his tip and forcing him to give you more cum.

Your name is the only thing he can utter as his cock spews its last few ropes into you, softening and letting his cum leak onto your thighs, leaving a slick, shimmering trail on you as it soaks into the bed.

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, here's the rest of my Kinktober Works and be sure to check out my Main Masterlist!!

[poppy-metal]

Having thoughts on arranged marriage!au....pretend w me for a second, let me live in a lil bit of delusion...

She doesn't really freak out at that much money, there's a reason she's his wife, but it feels too placating. A chew toy to "satisfy" her for right now until he grows a backbone and actually talks to her. Maybe even apologizes for how he was the night before.

She's a little bit pissy but doesn't try to send the money back, though the thought crossed her mind. Instead she spends it frugally- a few pieces of jewelery here, a new dress she had been looking at for the upcoming summer months, maybe even a few supplies for a hobby she wants to pick up while Patrick's off fucking Tashi.

She also doesn't really acknowledge that he might've done anything wrong. In her mind, she knows how she acts gets his blood boiling. Obedient, submissive, quiet, unassuming. Maybe she does it intentionally. Maybe she thinks of him as a bully, a bully seeking out her reactions - pushing and pushing and pushing until she snaps like she did the other night before getting herself under control. She doubles down on her behavior as a result. Hell, one night after getting back from hooking up with Tashi, he finds her, sitting in their dining room, the table set up for a feast- that she cooked. There's a few candles in the center, along with some pretty centerpieces that sparkle in the dim light. She smiles, getting up to take his coat, and kiss his cheek. "Welcome home."

She leads him to the table, pulling out his chair- like he should be doing for her- and sitting on the opposite end of him. She makes light banter now and then, still all smiles and polite manners, "Could you pass me the potatoes?" "How was your day?" "I've been thinking about one of the upcoming charity events, I think we should do something more out there, not just a children's hospital, maybe a homeless shelter?"

He snaps. His cock is twitching at the thought of her plump little body, so sweet and pliant and caring under him, "Thank you honey, oh god you feel so good, I love you-" He can't even imagine you being a fucked up little freak, begging for his fingers in your ass or on your throat, crying out 'daddy' over and over, and God does he feel bad about it. His chair clatters to the floor as he stomps away, up to their 'shared' bedroom (she's still sleeping in the guest room), and pulling his cock out.

He's never been more ashamed or angry to jerk off in his life. He's treated you like shit the entire time you've been married, only just recently doing something nice by giving you that money, and here you are, still smiling and cutesy and busy being a wife. His wife. Shame stirs deep in his belly as he paws at his balls, fondling them slowly, like he thinks you would. He moans quietly, almost hearing your mousy little voice practically crooning at him - "Does it feel good? Do I make you feel good?" God, all the reactions he's tried pulling out of you, the viciousness, the venom, the way he knows you want to react, to claw at him, yell and bitch about how he's an asshole, a cheater, a fucking godawful husband who you should divorce. He wants those so bad, but he's stroking his dick to the thought of your nice, pretty little pussy. Wrapped so sweetly around him he wouldn't even be able to call it fucking, he's jerking off to the thought of making love to you, filling you with kids, being a good husband deserving of your cute banter, your delicious meals, your modest, obedient personality.

After he cums, alternating between staring at his hand and the ceiling, he can hear you climbing up the stairs, opening the door to the guest room beside his room.

You didn't expect to see him leave like that, red in the face and his pants tight with the raging boner he had. You also didn't expect it to affect you. No matter how badly he treats you, you can't deny that he is hot. It gets you wet to think of how much power you can hold over him- even if it's anger. No matter how much he hates you, you are still his wife. Your hand drifts down your panties, circling your clit.

He can hear your quiet, soft moans. Like the pervert he is, he pressed his ear against the shared wall between the two rooms. He can feel blood rush down to his cock, filling it back out. He can't hear the whir of a vibrator or the squelching of something pushing its way inside your wet hole. You're just using your fingers on your clit, and he's never been harder in his life at the thought, save for maybe a few minutes before. His sweet little wife, who he's slowly realizing he kinda likes.

GODD PLEASE I NEED HIM.

bro this shit made me vibrate DESPERATE PATHETIC YEARNER PATRICK ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

[quirkwizard]

Can you explain quirk duplicates? If you understand anyway, I've just been curious about it since the "Decay is a modified duplicate of Overhaul" reveal. Is it like taking genetic material and then just doing some genetic modification?

Are the muscles bursting out of Imasuji a bug or a feature of the quirk? Because Hosu Nomu, Hood and Wolfram all have Muscle Augmentation as well but their muscles don’t burst out of their body?

Duplicating Quirks is a process of copying a Quirk, usually for the opportunity for it to be implanted in another person. We don't have much detail on how Garaki is able to do this, but it can be assumed it's him sampling from someone, cultivating it in his lab, and then grafting the Quirk onto whomever he wants it to go or having it be transferred by All For One. Several Quirks have been duplicated, such as "Life Force", "Double", and especially "Super Regeneration". "Muscle Augmentation" may have been one as well, but given how radically different all the examples are and the different names they sometimes have, it's more likely just different Quirks given the same name in translation. While useful, the process is not perfect. We are told that this can take some time to do and that Quirks get weaker whenever they are duplicated, hence why it wasn't done that often and only Quirks that seem to be necessary for a specific purpose. This is most prominently shown with "All For One", as All For One started to lose control over all of the accumulated powers because he was given a cloned version of it.

Anything beyond that becomes a little more complicated. We do that so that Garaki can modify abilities by introducing other Quirks into them. However, we have zero idea what this entails. He could be mixing and matching parts together to frankenstein a new Quirk, similar to how Quirks combine to make new applications when people have multiple Quirks or making something like an artificial Quirk Marriage. It's not helped by how few examples we have of this. We know that "Warp Gate" was made from "Cloud". But I am going to be honest, I can't really tell where "Cloud" fits into all of that. There's the cloudy covering, but that's about it. Maybe it was combined with a dozen other abilities to get where it is now, hence why it's so powerful. The only concrete example we have is with Tomura and Kai. "Overhaul" was copied over from Kai and then modified to become "Decay". We're told that it was done by emphasizing the destructive parts of "Overhaul". I prefer to believe that's more because a cloned power deviates from the original venison and removes the reconstructive part of the power, forcing it to mutate with its lack of limiters.

[quinloki]

Not sure if you've done these yet but let's go with Pegging and Breeding with Kid, Killer, and Law please?

Pegging and Breeding with Kid, Killer and Law - why yes I think I will enjoy this ask \o/

The perfect way to warm up for the day if I do say so myself.

We'll go in your thoughtfully provided alphabetical order <3

I've done breeding for all of them before now, but hadn't done pegging for any of them. Given how pegging works, I did add a little to each breeding entry ^_^

Eustass Kid:

Pegging - Yes - Kid's an equal opportunity kind of lover. Anything he's doing to you - as much as it can be - it's been done to him. Whether he really vibes it or not, he's going to experience it at least once. I've referred to Doflamingo as a hedonistic peacock, Eustass is more of a hedonistic dragon. He hoards kinks and pleasures and makes them his own, and it's not so much that he shares as it is that he pulls you into his pile of debaucheries.

So, he'll not only let you peg him, he'll make the strap on, walk you through prepping him, go over all the safeties, etc. You might peg him, hells, sometimes you might top him, but you'll probably never dom him.

Breeding - FUCK Yes - Man's got a specific piece of furniture for this. It's designed to be adjustable (It goes from 4'00" - 12'00" just because he could), and can be used with or without straps. It's got a few other addons, and it's multiple body type friendly.

Hey, Eustass makes things with his hands - not just metal stuff, the man's leather working and wood working skills are on point and I'm not even speaking in double entendre xD It's designed to keep from having the sub/bottom that gets on it from being too exhausted to be, well, bred. (Designed with their pleasure in mind cause some of these addons vibrate).

Thing of it like a comfy saddle with a sybian built into it (google that at your own risk). (I even wrote a drabble for bottom!Eustass week where he's "testing" it out, so he 100% takes what he gives.)

Killer:

Pegging - Yes - almost a FUCK Yes. Killer's more flexible on the top/bottom vibes than his captain (Kid will bend, just not as often), but he's very similar in the dom/sub category. You can peg him, he'll be all for it, going over all the specifics and talking you through the prep. If you're in a dominate mind set you might be able to find a few subby cracks in Killer's mask, but chances are he's power bottoming, vs letting you have any real control.

He'll enjoy it, and so will you, so there shouldn't be any complaints. He lets himself sink in pleasure just as much as any other horny member of the crew, and few sights are sweeter than having Killer twitch and gasp in pleasure under you.

Breeding - FUCK Yes - I mean, have you see that breeding bench that Kid built?! Of course he enjoys using it, and this is a style of marking/possessiveness he can get behind. (ah, heh accidental pun there. get behind... xD) It's not just filling you up over and over that he enjoys, sometimes letting others fill you up too, but it's having you shudder and cum on his cock over and over too. He's into it just as much for your continued pleasure as his own.

The number of times your body tries to curl on that bench is going to be at least twice as often as Killer satisfies himself, and he'll certainly take his turn on it. It's comfy, for one, and sometimes it's nice to just sink into the bench and let other people do the work while he enjoys himself.

Trafalgar Law:

Pegging - Sure - If you want enthusiasm there's a lot of other kinks for Law that'll work. He's not against receiving, he's just never really lively about it. He's also really about control, and he doesn't like giving it up (Which is why on the rare cases when he'll sub he's a massive brat about it). He'll still walk you through everything - he's not about to let you accidentally hurt him.

Once things get going, he will enjoy himself. He might huff and grumble during the setup a little, but it's not like you're forcing him to do something he dislikes. He's just neutral about it.

Breeding - FUCK Yes - He loves to breed you. Whether it's putting you on a specific breeding bench, or having you hold your legs open for him as he fills you up, or pressing into you, filling you up again and again. With his devil fruit (or in other AUs non-condom forms of birth control) there's no concern of becoming pregnant unexpectedly, and that makes it hotter for both of you. There's just an extra layer of control and trust in there because of it.

As for being bred... hm... I almost feel like he'd have to lose a bet or something. There's just so much control he's handing over and I don't think he'd be up for it as a general rule.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

The Prisoner: Final Part

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: canon angst and violence, extra angst

Summary: Now that Charlie is out of the way, you're getting your kids whether they want it or not. You're not asking this time. If they don't hand them over by sundown, Y/N won't be coming for them. The Scarlet Witch will, and they won't like what happens if she does.

Season Ten Masterlist

Author’s Note: I do not own anything from Supernatural. All credit goes to their respective owners. I love seeing any and all comments <3

x

It takes you six hours to get to South Dakota and you pull up to the farmhouse that Cas told you about. The barn looks abandoned but you'd be a fool if you didn't prepare for some kind of trap. You get out of the car and approach the front of the barn. You blast the doors in so quickly that a bunch of dust kicks up. If anyone is inside, all they're going to see in the darkness and dust are your bright red eyes.

You walk inside the stuffy barn that's cluttered with shit. Trinkets, boxes of clothes and other items, furniture, and a bunch of things covered with cloth tarps. You yank one off to reveal a mirror underneath it. It looks like no one has lived here for a long time. You run your hand across the surface of the table, chuckling at the dust on your finger. You should have known Dean wouldn't have allowed Cas to give up your children so easily. Dean would die for them. He would have died before letting Castiel tell you.

A floorboard creaks behind you and you look at the wall in front of you with a smirk.

"You're either stupid or you want to die."

You turn to see Dean standing on the other side of the barn.

"Well, I've never been the smart one."

"The kids were never here, were they?"

"Nope. I guess you're not so smart if you let a mere human play you."

You shrug out of your jacket and toss it across the room.

"I'm done playing nice. I've been very generous and have let you live multiple times. I even gave you three strikes, but now you've pissed me off."

You conjure a bright red ball of magic and are going to throw it to Dean but he does something that completely takes you by surprise. He conjures a blue ball of magic and sends it your way. You move out of the way and watch as it explodes a lamp. 

"You pissed me off," Dean glares.

"Now it all makes sense," you smile. "You have my soul. That's the only way you'd be able to use my powers."

"Yeah, and I'm going to use it to kick your ass."

"Tell me something, Dean. What happens to my soul when I kill you?

"Why don't you find out."

You shrug. "Your funeral." 

Dean sends a blast of blue magic at you but you easily duck out of the way before it can hit you. You send a sharp hit at him with your magic and he goes flying across the room and over a large table. 

"You cannot beat me!" you yell. "I've lived with these powers my entire life! You've only had them, what, a couple of months? We are not the same!"

Books immediately fly over to you but you blast them away from you while you continue to walk closer to Dean. You catch a flying book in your hand and fling it like a frisbee over at Dean when he pokes his head up from behind the table. He ducks immediately just as the book slices through the air. If he hadn't been so quick, his head would have been shot clean off. Magic flies through your body and shoots out from your hands but Dean sticks his hand out and creates a forcefield, one that you can't penetrate. Your magic bounces off it and almost hits you in the head.

You close your eyes and focus on your own magic. When you open them, your irises are deep red. Red mist starts pouring out of your hands, creating clouds of deadly magic. The mist travels all over the floor and seeps into the ground above. Your magic travels over to Dean and pours out from the ground below him, and he immediately starts coughing. He lets down his forcefield and doubles over as the pain of your magic enters his system. You walk over to Dean and kick him in the face, and he falls to the ground in a fit of coughs.

"You're weak and spineless, and you're a shitty witch."

Red magic covers your right hand, and you're about to punch him in the face when he catches your punch with blue magic. His eyes shine bright blue. The real you is inside him aiding him. It's going to be tough to beat yourself, especially when you're trying to kill the man of her dreams. He punches you in the stomach with his other hand, and you go flying across the barn into the wall. The entire barn shakes with the force.

Dean grabs a metal pole and transforms the end of it into a sharp edge. He feels you helping him in every way that you can from inside his head, and he knows he'll be able to beat that. Dean runs over to you and shoves the end of the sharp pole right into your abdomen. You gasp and grip the pole while staring at Dean with deadly eyes. He shoves the end of the pole into the wall tightly so that you can't pull it out.

"What are you going to do now, witch?"

You cough and blood shoots out of your mouth. Instead of accepting defeat, you laugh. You grab the end of the pole and snap it in two using your magic. Dean's eyes widen when you take a step toward him. He keeps backing up when you keep walking, forcing yourself to slide off the pole from the other end. You finally get free and stumble forward, and you grab something to keep yourself from falling. You yank off the sheet covering a mirror and grin. You lay your hand flat on the surface and spell it, immediately spelling every reflective surface. You lift your shirt to see your wound shining red as it closes.

"Looks like you're going to have to try harder."

You run at Dean and punch him in the face, and he knocks into a bookshelf that has the books flying off the shelves. He watches as one of them hits a mirror and disappears into it. Whatever passes through the mirror will get stuck in the mirror realm, and he has a feeling you're trying to get him in there. Not if he can get you in first.

You blast him with magic but he counteracts it with a blast of his own. You're too strong to fight off with you coming at him like this so he needs to think of something outside of the box if he's going to get you inside the mirror. He looks at the mirror you uncovered after freeing yourself and he shoots his hand out toward it. Blue magic encompasses the thing and he pulls it toward you and him. The mirror smacks into you from the back, swallowing you up whole. Dean jumps out of the way so he doesn't get sucked in, either. The mirror falls to the ground and shatters into pieces.

Dean pants when it suddenly becomes silent. Sam steps into the room with a gun in his hands and looks at his brother with hope.

"Did we do it? Did it work?"

Dean shrugs in response. He looks behind Sam at another mirror and sees you standing in the mirror with a glare. Dean sends a blast at the mirror so destroy it so you can't get through.

"Cover the mirrors! All of them! Any reflective surface!"

Dean and Sam work to cover every reflective surface so you can't crawl out of one. Once everything is covered, both brothers stand in the middle of the place. Suddenly, one of the covers gets blown off by you. They don't have time to react because you're already crawling out of one of them. It's not as easy as you'd like it to be. You're going through cut glass so every part of you is cut deep by the glass. However, your wounds glow bright red as your magic works to heal you.

Your right hand is the first thing out with broken fingers angled every which way. You grip the side of the mirror and push through it so that the entire top half of your body is now through the mirror. There are cuts all over your face and body but your magic heals them like it's the easiest thing in the world. You fall to the ground with the bottom half of your body still inside the mirror. You push yourself through it and crawl on the ground broken bones and all. You manage to get completely through and stand up but your neck is broken in different places as well are your arms. They snap back into place and you snap your head right side up. There is a deep gash going from your forehead down to your neck but it glows with red magic and is healed within seconds.

Both brothers back up in fear but Sam raises his gun to fire at you. You raise your hand and shine your red eyes at him, causing him to freeze and fall under your spell.

"Change of plans, Sam. Dean is your new target." You look at Dean with a hardened look. "Shoot to kill."

Sam immediately turns the gun on his brother and begins shooting at him without mercy. You smirk and sit back to watch because maybe this is when Dean dies, maybe not. Dean moves behind different covers to avoid getting hit before Sam obliterates that, forcing Dean to move to the next one.

"Sam! Fight it! Fight the compulsion!"

"You're not a match for me, Dean!" you say. "Just give up and accept sweet death. It'll be nice to have a demon around again. Maybe this time, we can do things the right way!"

"Sammy! Fight it! What you're feeling isn't real!"

Sam closes his eyes and tries to fight the compulsion you have on him. He thinks about how much you love him and how you'd never do anything to hurt him.

"I knew something was wrong, and if you were you or if the situation were reversed, I know you wouldn't want me to give up. I know you wouldn't have given up on me, so I fought with you every step of the way. Every time I brought it up, you'd force me deeper into my body to deal with it on my own.

"So, that night when you pulled the gun on me and threatened my daughter's life, that was the straw that broke the camel's back. Everything I forced down came rushing out. It's why I yelled at you to leave me alone. I didn't deal with it in a healthy way, and I took it out on you. I can see just how much you've been trying these past few months. It took me a while, but I finally can see that it wasn't you. It was your body, but it wasn't you. I'm sorry, Sam."

By the time you're done, you're in tears. You're stuttering and sniffling, and you're pretty sure that your nose is dripping snot. You wipe your nose with your sleeve and stare into Sam's eyes. There's a lot of emotion in there, and you miss seeing that so much.

"I just want my best friend back," you hiccup. 

"I do too. We're both sorry because we're both at fault," he sniffles as a few tears drip out of his eyes.

"Clean slate? Please?"

"Yeah. Clean slate."

You're going to get your best friend back and so will he. Sam snaps out of your trance and turns the gun on you. He only has to shoot once before you blast him through a thin wall and into the next room. Dean gets up and you send a steady stream of magic right at him. He does the same and the two opposing forces meet in the middle to form one big ball of purple magic. You push harder but he pushes back just as hard. He's not going to let you win.

"Sam! Do it now!!" Dean yells.

He wants to be strong but you're just a tad stronger. You push the purple ball closer to Dean knowing it will kill him if it reaches him Sam steps through the hole he made with a different gun this time. He aims it at you and pulls the trigger, and a sonic sound wave shoots right at your head. The pain you're feeling is nothing like you've ever felt before. You stop your assault on Dean and fall to the ground with both hands on your head. It feels like your head is being split in half slowly and at every seam. You're screaming in pain but Sam doesn't stop. Sam and Dean walk closer to you, and you look at your husband with pain in your eyes.

"Dean, please!"

It takes two more seconds of the gun to make you pass out. It takes Dean three seconds to realize he won.

"I did it. We did it," Dean smiles. "We won!"

"Come on, I don't know how long she'll be out. Let's go reunite our girl with her soul."

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[vacantgodling]

oc kiss week day 6 4: reach

i’m posting this out of order bc i had this finished first LMAO 💀 next one i’ll post is day 4 promise pff

WIP: the chronicles of lathsbury (tcol)

SHIP: erik soori (he/him, ranger) x un "dion" undershield (he/him, protector)

SUMMARY: dion knew it was his fault, but that didn't make it hurt less. the worst part was erik didn't blame him at all.

tw(s): major out of context spoilers, amputation (not in graphic detail, it's already been done) & traumatic limb loss

worldbuilding notes: erik and miona are both from diisai, which is an island to the west of terrae's mainland across the eastern sea (which is not east lmao). diisaians like themselves have a sort of highland (scottish) adjacent sounding accent, and because i like writing vernaculars, you'll see that make an appearance here. erik's accent is stronger than miona's because miona grew up in the capital of diisai while erik grew up in the highlands.

also sorry in advance for this this is so sad fr LMAO.

“I spoke wi’eh doctor.” Miona said. She wasn’t looking at him, or where Erik lay, deathly still on the hospital bed. His body was fully covered by blankets up to his chin, and his face didn’t look peaceful so much as he just looked like a corpse. If Dion knew Miona better, like Erik did, maybe he would’ve been able to read through whatever emotion her flat voice was trying to hide. He didn’t look at her either. Just kept staring at him like he had for the past week. She waited a long moment before she continued. 

“After he’s granted discharge, it's recommended ‘at he retire.” 

Another long beat passed. 

“He can’t.” Dion was surprised hearing his own voice—the last time he heard it like this was when Fia passed and. And. He sucked in a harsh breath through his nose; he couldn’t think about her. Not now, it would break him.

Miona whirled on him, her eyes suddenly blazing. “Can’t?!” Her voice was shrill. “He lost his fucking arm, you heartless piece o’ shit!” Guilt seared through Dion’s gut like he’d been fileted, and it was hard not to double over from the pain of it. “Th’ whole damn thing!” She screamed and Dion wished he could scream too. He knew! And it was his fault. Miona wasn’t done her tirade however. “Can you stop being so fucking selfish for once in yer damn life—”

“I know what he lost!” Dion finally growled, cutting her off. He could barely breathe around the nausea that gripped him like iron from the inside of his throat, strangling him with every word, but he pushed them out. “But you and I both know he won’t!” 

Miona glowered at him, grinding her teeth, knowing he was right but not wanting to admit it herself. She tried again. “Then convince ‘im! For pity’s sake, he can’t go on like this!” 

Dion turned away from her, and away from Erik no matter how much he needed to stare at him to make sure that he was there. “I can’t do that.” His voice was barely a puff of air; a wheeze.

If he was looking at Miona, he would’ve seen the way she tugged at her hair in frustration. “Ye’re the only one who can!” She choked on her words, tears welling up in her voice like an overflowing dam. “He’ll ne’er be able to shoot a bow again—don’t ye get it? And you know he won’t sit around and do paperwork all day!” 

“I’m not stupid.” Dion felt the stupid, useless tears that he hated to shed begin to trail down his dark cheeks and he pointedly kept his face turned away. That’s what was tearing him up—he knew that Erik was fucked over beyond repair and he fucking caused it.

The one thing Fia loved about Erik more than anything was his bow. The one thing that completed Erik, was that ridiculous thing, near as large as Dion’s own shield, at his side. He drew it with such a raw power in a way that was lost on the rangers of the mainland; a unique artform all of its own. And because of Dion it was ruined. He’d ruined Fia’s dream—as the last insult to her memory. He’d ruined Erik, as the final straw in the string of insults that Dion had taken at his character. The one man who never left him. The one man who coddled him, listened to him, cared for him even when he didn’t fucking deserve it—

“Get out o’eh way, ye stupid bastard!” 

Dion kept replaying the moment over and over in his mind. 

He had been so focused. So, angry, and reckless—Erik shouldn’t have had to cover his blind spot. Erik shouldn’t have known his blind spot… But logic reasoned that if anyone would’ve known it, Erik would. They’d been fighting together for… too long now. This was the price for that.

Both he and Miona were startled out of their argument by a shifting of the sheets. Of a loud, pained groan. 

“A’ll get th’ doctor!” Miona said. She rushed for the door, pausing for only a moment to look back at Dion. “But remember what Ah said. And don’t ye dare hurt him.”

Dion didn’t bother to deign what she said with a response. He was too busy falling to his knees by the bedside, grasping Erik’s trembling left hand in his own—what was left of him. 

He was forcibly moved from the bedside when the doctor rushed in.

It was another week before Erik awoke again. And in all that time, Dion stayed by his bedside. He tried to read, but his mind wouldn’t follow the words, but there was nothing else to do so he forced himself through passage after passage of drivel until it made his eyes burn and his head swim.

During that time, the room was constantly fluctuating with visitors: Miona came in nearly every day, and the barman—Papa, whatever his name, stopped by as well. The Diisiain they spoke rapidly between each other was too hushed for Dion to catch any of, but he noticed the forlorn look the burly man gave Erik when he finally ambled out. Cameron stopped by, and that archer his sister fancied, along with other people Dion hadn’t bothered to learn the names of. He’d never… realized how well liked Erik was. He’d been so focused on himself, his vengeance, his pain—its like he never even knew who Erik was. Is. He wasn’t dead. He had to keep telling himself that.

It was a sentiment proven true when Erik began to stir. Dion almost didn’t notice, given how quiet this awakening was compared to the previous outburst. His honey brown eyes were barely visible under his drooping lids, but visible enough for Dion to start when he said, all rasp, “Ne’er thought Ah’d see th’ day where ye’d voluntarily read somethin’, bubble boy.” 

The silly nickname that normally Dion hated constricted something fierce in his chest, and his heart stopped, before it began to hammer against his ribs. “You’re awake.” He said dumbly. “You’re actually awake.” 

“Fer better or worse.” Erik sighed heavily, so much that Dion could almost hear the creak of his bruised lungs. “Though Ah feel like th’ Lady o’ tha Universe sent th’ planet crashin’ down on me brow an’ knocked me clean oot. I feel awful.” Despite it, Erik chuckled and Dion felt his heart crash down to his stomach. How could he do this? How was he this endless well of optimism. When Fia died, Erik hadn’t shed a tear that Dion could see. Just held him, helped him bury her body—their bodies of the rest of their team. When Dion shunned his jokes and his cheer, he’d let it roll off of his shoulders without even blinking. He almost wanted to ask—what kept him cheerful when the world was cruel and heartless? But then Erik sat up on the bed. With some difficulty, Dion could add. The book he was reading fell from his lap as he lunged to reach Erik, helping him get to an upright position with a hand steadied on his back. The blanket dropped from his shoulders, and suddenly it was bared to the world. Bandaged; but enough that Dion felt the nausea of guilt arrest him again. Where Erik’s right arm should’ve been, there was nothing but a nub right at the shoulder. It was a clean break, like someone snapped it off like an icicle or chalk, and not the horribly mangled, jagged thing it had been when Dion and Jace managed to drag him to the hospital, already passed clean out from the pain. They must’ve had to amputate slightly further up, to salvage what they could… even if it wasn’t much. 

Aware of it, Erik stilled, and how he was turned obscured his expression from Dion. Without warning, his left arm came grasping at the place where his arm once was. 

“She’s really gone… Isn’t she?” Erik’s voice was threadbare. But surprisingly, he wasn’t the one who’d begun to cry.

When Dion didn’t give him an answer, Erik turned his head. The worried expression on his face was swimming in Dion’s vision.

“Oi… Ye… ye’re cryin’?” Erik looked about as lost as Dion felt. When he tried to open his mouth, no sound came out. “Ah…” Erik’s left hand reached out then hesitated, unsure. But, steeling his resolve, he reached out all the way, and grasped Dion by the front of his shirt. It only took one tug to pull Dion into his embrace, and any other day, any other time Dion would’ve shoved him off but now… His arms just felt too weak. 

Against his hair, he felt a brush of Erik’s lips. 

“Ah didn’t think ye’d cry.” He said, hushed. The lips pressed into Dion’s hair again, this time more purposeful and it hit Dion so sharply that he felt dizzy. Despite the fact that Dion caused his injury. Despite the fact that Dion couldn’t do anything but growl and scowl and give him grief for his troubles to be friendly, that no matter what happened between them, Erik was always there whenever Dion fell. He couldn’t bear it, he couldn’t bear it. 

“If Ah thought Ah could’a gone fer me bow, I woulda but…” Erik tried to laugh but it came out watery and broken. “An’ now… Ah’m ne’er gonna shoot me bow again.” He laughed again, but this one was more pained and Dion pulled away, if only to look into Erik’s eyes. Tears had begun pouring down his face like a river’s spring flood.

Dion wished he knew what to say.

“.... Ah promised meself that Ah wouldn’t regret it if ye were safe.” Erik whispered, and then suddenly he was breaking. It was all Dion could do but pull Erik into his chest as he wailed, his tears wrenching and racking his whole, too thin body with them. All Dion could do was hold him and mirror the gesture; pressing the most delicate of kisses to Erik’s head as he fell apart.

[windchimesgames]

Happy Holidays! I had the good fortune of being assigned your Secret Santa, and I couldn’t be happier! I took the opportunity to familiarize myself with the demo for the fantastic ReAnimation Scheme, and immediately found myself hooked by the absolutely inspired concept of necromancy doubling as a soul-sucking customer service job. I hope that I was able to do Raenelle and Sebastien justice in this min-fanfiction I wrote! 

B.

___________________________________

“By the Ancestors, girl, what do you mean I’m only a Silver Patron? I left those accursed brats enough for Platinum-tier thrice over, and yet you claim--”

The spirit before me swells with inflamed pride, continuing his ranting unabated as I tune him out. I ought to have known he’d be one of those. As soon as I opened the trunk and saw the coin with his name on it, it ought to have been obvious. 

Zianna, I get up early for once, and for what? My transfer request denied yet again, and now--

“...are you even listening? Deities, I’d heard you Reanimators are the worst of the bunch, but to think that you’d be so blatant in disregarding your betters--! Call your supervisor at once! For someone of my stature to be allotted a mere half-day of reanimation is highway robbery! Do you even know who I am, Death Mage?”

Pinching the bridge of my nose in an effort to head off an incipient headache, I nod, eyes flicking back to the scroll. Incarnations, why couldn’t the first summoning of the day be a simple one?

“Yes, of course I know who you are. I summoned you after all, Sir Rudiford.”

“Lord! Lord Rudiford!!”

I force a smile that is more a baring of teeth than anything.

“My apologies. Since you have passed, the title is now recorded as belonging to--”

“To no one yet! I know full well my Reanimation Rites never would have been seen to at all, if I’d named an heir while living. If I could take my title and wealth with me, I’d do it! Ancestors take the wretches, not one is worthy of either the name or the coin.”

The spirit before me falls to furious silence, flickering a sulfurous yellow. The portrait depicted on the scroll is not especially pleasant, and I reflect that death has done little to improve upon the (former) Lord Rudiford’s appearance.

“Are you denying your Reanimation Services, then?” I inquire through gritted teeth.

The former lord gives me an excoriating glare in reply. “Of course I am not! I am demanding an extension--half a day is not nearly enough time to wrap up business for a personage such as I! The Silver ranking is clearly in error--I ought to have a full day and a half, at the least!”

My head tips back heavily. Zianna, what did I ever do to deserve this?

Clearing my throat, I meet his eyes again before the spirit becomes apoplectic. “And as I have explained, extensions are not within my power to provide. See?”

I hold the scroll aloft, jabbing a finger at it.

“Silver Patron of the Reanimation Scheme. That comes with a half-day’s reanimation. Your body has been preserved in good condition with that in mind--but any extension without proper authorization, and you’ll be stinking of rot and dropping limbs in the street by day’s end. Hardly in keeping with the dignity of a lord.” I stress the title heavily, trying to suppress a smirk as I do so. The idea of this garbage spirit stinking of literal garbage appeals to me. 

“Your manager, mage! If you are too far down the food chain to be of use to me, surely you have some minder or other that will have authority to act!”

I sigh, eyes flicking to the form shamelessly slumbering on my desk, silver and white fur splayed against the red and brown leather binding of thick volumes I have no intention of reading on my own. 

“Right. You’re right, of course, Mister Rudiford. Let me transfer you--”

“Lord! Lord Rudif--”

With a flare of my magic, the sulfur-yellow shade blinks out of being, and I sigh heavily with relief.

“That isn’t likely to improve your rating, Raenelle.”

I glower at the cat sprawled on my desk. Sebastien has done no more than crack open a single golden eye, but already he is judging me.

“As if you were any help at all. If the Twelve Deities and Ancestors can see just what I have to deal with, I’m sure--”

Sebastien stretches in a boneless ripple of silver fur. “Then they’ll know what I am subjected to with you, and commend me to the heavens while relieving me of my promised duties.” 

Scowling, I give the long, fluffy tail a slight tug, just enough to be annoying without being painful.

“Some familiar you are.”

“And some Reanimator you are. Have you given any thought of what will happen at the morgue, when that cad wakes up?”

I chuckle.

“Sure. They’ll kick Lord Rudiford out to see his family as swiftly as they can, same as me.”

Sebastien shakes his head, obviously unwilling to appreciate the vision that is bringing me so much mirth. 

“And his family?”

I shift my weight with a sigh, annoyed.

“What of them? Will they even care what he thinks, the old skinflint? They carved his name into a single coin, as his reanimation token! I wouldn’t be surprised if one of them killed him,” I observe darkly, scanning his scroll. 

Sebastien appears momentarily taken aback, but soldiers on bravely. 

“You can’t make assumptions--”

I turn a malevolent smile back on him. The headache is building pressure. “Sure, okay. Great. Shall I summon him back and refer him to you, then? As my mentor, I mean. That’s the closest to--”

The golden eyes vanish, thick, brushy tail curling over them almost as a shield. 

“My role is to counsel you, not appease the spirits you upset.”

I sigh, shaking my head.

“Coward.”

I look at the mirror that dominates the room, reflecting both light and darkness in equal measure. I never wanted this to be my job. I never wanted to be a guide for anyone, let alone spirits. 

The glass is cold where I rest my brow against it.

“Raenelle? Are you asleep?”

I let out a mighty sigh, cheeks puffing outwards and breath fogging the glass.

On to the next. Let’s see…

I scan my mental list of the day.

Jori. Jori Halwin.

Here’s hoping he’s easier than the last.

OH MY GOSH!!!!! I'm so happy you're my secret santa, and 🥰is this two gifts in one?!?!! Adorable Sebastien fanart AND a hilarious and beautifully written fanfic!!!! I love these, thank you so so so much! Happy Holidays to you too @brightoakgame!!

(And thank you to @crescencestudio for hosting the lovely event!!)

[monty-glasses-roxy]

What’s cool about Rebuild AU is that you can introduce Spike the Wet Floor Bot as an emotional support bot that becomes a little guy with feelings over time. Like, think about it! (Under a read more because I got carried away and yes this is relevant to the Roxy tag I promise)

Roxy has been unable to search the rubble due to a fault in her battery giving her massive power fluctuations that are fucking up all her other systems. Sunny finds a severely damaged Wet Floor Bot and brings it back for her to have something to entertain herself with instead of just organising stuff. She did always say she’d love to try and repair one of the little guys! Sunny hopes it will keep her distracted since they still haven’t found the Minis yet and she can’t search for them herself, and he promises to find anything and everything she needs for it.

So she fixes it. Slowly but surely. She puts her every waking hour into this, trying to ignore the hundreds of problems going on with her and the world around her. Monty gets repaired, promising to double down on the search for what she needs to be able to get out there too but she tells them not to bother. Just find the Minis, that’s the most important thing.

A few days later and the little Caution Bot powers back on, repaired to the best of Roxy’s current abilities. It remembers what happened. It watched as it’s whole world burned and caught glimpses of everyone else struggling to find a way out not cut off by the flames. It could understand then. That was an emergency programmed into it’s AI. It knows what a fire looks like...

But now one of the animatronics it’s seen almost every day of it’s life is talking to it, gently, softly, only to moderately chastise herself for it afterwards. It’s curious. It doesn’t understand as other animatronics come and go but she stays beside it. The animatronic is having difficulties but it can’t report them to the main office. There is no connection available. It will be fixed soon. It always is.

As days go on, it watches, unsure of what it should do with itself. There are no spills to warn people of here. There is no designated area to wait for one in. The charging station is turned off for the majority of the day. What else is it supposed to do but observe?

The animatronic never leaves. It never found that weird before. Maybe there is something wrong. It tries to report it to the main office. There is still no connection. Will it ever be fixed?

She seems so tired. She tinkers with machinery and spends so much time on the floor, asleep or not quite there yet. Her paws shake sometimes when she reaches to pat it on the head. Why does she do that? What does it mean?

She talks to it. She claws the walls and growls, snapping sharp words to the others or often just herself, but those claws never touch it and she always stops to talk to it. Sometimes she will talk for hours whilst sometimes she will just sit and stare into nothingness. It wonders whether it should approach her when she does that. Does she need help? Why doesn’t this happen when the others are here?

It receives what the animatronic – Roxanne Wolf – called an upgrade. She worked slowly on it, having to stop and rest her head against the wall for a while several times in the process. It wonders if this is how it was for the entirety of her time repairing it. She certainly wasn’t like this before the fire. The main office is still unreachable. When she’s done, it’s given a new range of motion. It’s neck feels much stronger than before and it’s head can now tilt and turn separate from it’s body. It liked this new upgrade. It had never seen the ceiling before. For the first time, it looks up into green eyes that used to be a deep gold. There’s something else different though. Emotions it can’t yet understand but it knows they aren’t negative. It wants to know what those emotions are. Maybe watching will help?

Roxanne Wolf shows the others the upgrades, tail swaying seemingly on its own. They pat it on the head. They tell it how wonderful it is. They tell Roxanne Wolf how amazing she is for her work. They tell it how cute it is. Montgomery Gator asks if she has given it a name yet. She tells them no. It doesn’t understand. It is Caution Sign No. 26675. Is that not it’s name? Why does the number feel wrong? Like it doesn’t belong? The words don’t sound like theirs. But why is that a problem? Why is there so much it doesn’t understand now?

They stop their compliments as Roxanne Wolf asks them for news about names it doesn’t recognise. It listens in closely, trying to work out why her voice always sounds so different when she says those words. The animatronics and the night guard shake their heads and tell her there is nothing. There is a difference again. Her mood has changed. They apologise to her. They tell her they’ll find them soon, or find what she needs so she can get out there with them too. It doesn’t want her to leave.

That thought stuck out in its mind. It doesn’t want her to leave. Please stay. Please don’t go.

Why would it feel this way? When did it start to feel anything on this level? The emotion is so strong it doesn’t know what to do. It has seen the others speak to each other, heard Roxanne Wolf talk about and cry through her troubles. But how does she do it? How can it do the same? How can it tell her?

It rolls up to her side as everyone settles down. She had instructed it to make sure to charge as she turned the charging station on, but it didn’t move away from her. She sits down in her usual spot in the corner, very close to the charging station. It stares at her, unsure what to do. She gazes right back with a tilt of her head and a raised brow. It bumps gently against her and searches every inch of it’s programming for something, anything that will help it tell her what it needs to say. A buzzing noise emanates from it. Small, stuttery, but with as much of this feeling it can possibly push into it. Roxanne’s ears perk up and her eyes go wide. She doesn’t speak, listening intently to the buzzing and the beeps as if it were all as clear as an empty glass to her.

Please don’t leave. It wants to say so desperately and it’s then it recognises something. An emotion in her eyes they’d never been able to read before.

It’s worry.

It realises with a start that this is the only time that she’s ever looked at it with worry. She watches the door sometimes, the worry growing on her face until she’s blinking back tears. She’s spoken to the others with her voice laced with worry about those four names she’s always asking for news on. She always seemed to worry about the Night Guard in particular when she swayed or when she spoke with her hands in her hair and her eyes to the floor. It must be a common emotion for her to feel, but why could she feel that towards it?

She patted it’s head again before holding the side of it’s face with a gentleness that didn’t match what it had seen her do with her claws before. She spoke softly, apologising that she wasn’t entirely sure what it was upset about but it must be important. Whatever it is it’s feeling, Roxanne says it’s okay. She’s here and she’s not leaving any time soon. She wraps an arm around it. A warmth floods it’s insides and the reassurance soothes it’s fears. Is this what she feels when Daycare Attendant Moon and Glamrock Chica The Chicken hugs her? Is that what this is? A hug? What does all of this mean?

It doesn’t want to leave. It stays in the embrace as long as it can before Roxanne smiles and nudges it to go and charge. For once, it wanted nothing more than to ignore the low battery alerts and to stay where it was. But she insisted, carefully guiding it with a paw back to it’s charging station before settling back down. This time, she’s right beside it, close enough for her tail to brush against its side. It’s not safe for her to do that while it charges. It doesn’t care. It has a feeling she doesn’t either.

The days go on and on. They’re different now. Roxanne – Roxy – has changed her routine. She curls up against it now when she sleeps during the day. She pats it on the head and praises it when it pushes things it thinks she needs towards her. When she cries, it bumps against her and she hugs it with her snout between it’s ears. She tells it she can’t wait to introduce her to the four who’s names she speaks so solemnly. The more it learns about them, the more it wants to meet them too. She cares so much about them, it wants to care about them too. It wonders if she will ever care about it as much as she does them.

They sit outside together one day. It has never been able to see the sky before. Everything is so bright and the breeze is an assault on it’s sensors. Roxy lays beside it and it wants to as well. It finds the nearest object on the ground, a rock it presumes, and runs over it at an angle. It doesn’t work the first or the second time but on the third, it’s on the floor. Barely a second passes before it’s view of the sky is eclipsed with Roxy’s face. The worry is back again, her voice full of alarm and concern. Her paws cradle the back of it’s head and she guides it back up onto it’s wheels. It gives a flat, irritated buzz and she seems confused. The moment she lets go, it tries again to tip itself. She catches it as it falls and it buzzes loudly, urging her to let it lay beside her. When she lays it down, resting it’s head on her arm, it buzzes happily and a small laugh escapes her. It’s an achievement to hear her laugh. It seems so hard for her to do, yet so easy for others from before the fire. She lays beside it and they watch the clouds go by for a while until it finds itself trapped in a hug. She’s asleep again before much longer. It tries to send a report to the main office that she is still in need of repairs. It doubts there even is a main office now.

Another week goes by. It buzzes so excitedly as Daycare Attendant Sunny and Montgomery Gator burst through the door with a large box held high above their heads. They’re finally going to repair Roxy! Now, maybe she won’t be so worried anymore! Maybe she won’t be so sad! Maybe she won’t be so frustrated! She seems just as eager for these repairs, but she still asks for news on those four names again. There is still no news. Maybe this will help her get the news she wants!

She is powered down as Daycare Attendant Moon replaces her battery with Night Guard Vanessa’s supervision. Tampering with animatronics is against the rules. It ignores the alerts to report it to the main office. It has seen the Mega Pizzaplex. There truly is no main office anymore. Instead of sending a report, it stays pressed against her side. It will always be by her side. She’s too important to leave.

When they’re done, she doesn’t wake. It’s told it will take a few hours before she does. So it waits. By her side. Never moving, never even thinking about leaving. It begins to buzz. A tune she had mournfully sang to herself a few times before. It had always been her favourite. When she wakes up, it’s to that same song. It sees her tail wag when her eyes land on it, a smile creeping across her face. She feels better she says. She feels awake and alive again. It buzzes in joy and relief, even as it struggles to keep up with her now. The others are just as happy for her, wrapping her in hugs and telling her how great it is to see her smile again. They tell her that now they’re all together, they’ll find those four names in no time. It hopes they’re right.

Exploring the ruins of their former home is difficult for it. Roxy flies over crumbling walls and mountains of debris with an ease it could never hope to replicate. She still stumbles, she still falls, and her body still trembles when she does too much but she has yet to power down out of the blue again. This is the longest it’s seen her awake since before the fire. She searches, digging through charred plushies and broken glass, desperation growing with each passing minute. She calls those names over and over, again and again and again. She still diligently clears a path for it to follow her. Despite the growing worry on her face, she never forgets it’s following her. It wonders if this is what it means to be cared for. It wonders, as it watches her weave around the many, many other Caution Bots just like it, if she sees it as any different to them at all.

It wonders what makes it different to the others of its kind. Does it look as damaged as they do? It’s noticed several patches of colourful metal it has isn’t shared with the others. Is that because Roxy repaired it? Is that because it’s different? Is this all that’s different? ... Does it want to be like the others? It was connected to them all once. They all thought in much the same way, all of their minds linked via a network that no longer exists. It didn’t remember any of the others feeling like this. It doesn’t want to ever lose these feelings. They’re too important now. It wants to be just like the animatronics that called it cute and pat it on the head.

Roxy grows tired much quicker than the others. Perhaps she still needs repairs. They have reached where Roxy Raceway once was. There was barely anything left. So much of it had sank below the ground they stood on. She was quiet, staring at what remained in silence. Was this place as important to her as the four she was searching for? It starts to buzz her favourite song, pressed against her leg in it’s best attempt at comforting her. She doesn’t react to it at first, and when it looks up, it sees she’s crying to herself again. It bleeps louder to gain her attention and she slowly looks down at it. It spins in a circle before pressing against her leg again, buzzing all the while. She kneels beside it and holds it tight to her chest. It feels the pain making her body quake with sobs and though she tries to stay quiet, it’s only a matter of time before DJ Music Man arrives to help it comfort her. When she finally calms, she doesn’t let go of it for a while longer. It hopes that means she knows how much it’s trying to care.

Roxy is quiet for a while after that. It bumps against her more and more, buzzing a little louder in the hopes it helps her through this. She pats its head with another weak smile. But then she calls it Bumblebee. It doesn’t understand. It buzzes in confusion but her attention is elsewhere. Her eyes light up with hope at something behind it and she nearly bowls it over by how fast she runs past to see whatever it is. She calls those names again, digging through a pile of melted childrens toys with an incredible burst of energy. It buzzes curiously as it catches something moving within the heap, Roxy quickly spotting it soon after. She pounces on it and after a few seconds, it sees her tail start to wag. She pulls a spider-like robot from the mess, followed by another, and another. A fourth soon follows, clearly on it’s last dredges of battery life. The tears are flowing so fast down her face and yet she’s smiling wider than it’s ever seen her smile before. She howls an alert to the others before bundling them up in her arms and rushing them back to the shed.

She’s fretting over them constantly. She works and works and works on them, pouring as much of her energy as she possibly can into them. It watches in fascination, curious as to what she’s doing but not understanding a word of what she says about it. She says their names, explaining the small, visual differences between each of them to everyone with such care and such detail that it wonders if she could do the same for it one day. If it was completely yellow like all the others of its kind, would she be able to tell which one it was? Maybe she would...

She had left them to charge now. There was nothing more she could do for them but wait. Roxy returned to her corner and offered an arm out to it for a hug. It accepted without any hesitation, having quickly become reliant on the comfort that washed over it every time they did this. She chuckled and once again called it Bumblebee. Her Bumblebee. Was that a name? Was it like her name? It craved that individuality. It wanted so badly to be seen as someone rather than just another Caution Bot. Would the four friends of Roxy’s see it like that? Would they see it as someone worth the time Roxy gave it? Did anyone else see it as someone worth all the attention at all? It buzzed and bleeped, trying to convey how it felt in a way that was similar to Roxy’s growls and barks, the language she rarely used around anyone but DJ Music Man. Did it even count as a language?

She listened, as she always did. She watched it nervously roll the length of the room a few times and hugged it close when it buzzed and bumped against her side. She didn’t always understand, but maybe this was one of the times she would. Roxy asked if it was nervous about her little friends. It buzzed in affirmation. She reassured that they were friendly, if a little shy and that they were sure to love it. She didn’t seem to understand this time. It’s attention fell to the door. But maybe it could show her what it meant.

Whilst clearly hesitant to leave her sleeping friends, she reluctantly followed it into the ruins of their former residence. It buzzed and beeped, pushing around a deactivated Caution Bot. She asked question after question, steadily getting closer and closer to the right answer until finally she seemed to understand. Roxy smirked and crossed her arms. There was nothing but confidence when she told it that no one could ever mistake it for anyone else. It was her little Bumblebee and everyone knows it! It learns then that Bumblebee is not a name. It wants a name. It wants an identity. It wants something other than Caution Bot No. 26675. Bumblebee felt so right, so perfect in ways it could never hope to describe but it knew it was only one piece of the puzzle. There had to be more!

Roxy hummed and it worried she hadn’t understood again. She was quiet, her head tilted thoughtfully to the left. After a while, she shifted her stance and her head tilted over to the right. Her eyes suddenly lit up in that telltale sign that inspiration had struck. She clapped her paws and bounced on her feet before rushing past and urging it to follow her. They picked through the remains of Rockstar Row where she forced the metal door to her former room open, pretending to hold it open for it as she waved it to go on in ahead of her with a smirk. It was a mess, just like everywhere else, but there was still some semblance of what it used to be. She warned it before lifting it up onto the ruined chair in front of the desk. The mirror was cracked and broken but still reflected perfectly fine. It stopped paying attention to what she was saying as it stared at the bot in the mirror.

It looked broken. It looked damaged. It looked... hurt. It looked like it once was but worse. Like all the others the fire touched that fateful night so long ago. It wasn’t sure what to think. Was that really what it looked like now? Beaten and broken, patched back up with mismatched scrap metal and peeling yellow paint? It... wasn’t what it had expected. But then, what had it expected to see? Roxy nuzzled the side of it’s head affectionately. Perfect she’d called it. Beautiful and unique. She was nothing but proud of it. That familiar warmth, the mix of comfort and something else flooded through it again at every kind word she spoke. In her eyes, it was nothing short of brilliance.

But maybe they could make it better. She was digging through charred draws, tail swishing gently as she pulled out what little had remained unscathed. She held a few items up to it, humming and ha’ing about what would be the best and holding random objects up in the mirror so it could see for itself what it would look like. A few of the things she found made it buzz with delight while others made it buzz so low it sounded like Roxy’s mean growls. It seemed to amuse her to no end before she gasped and pulled something new out of the draw. A spare, she’d said it was as she fastened a black, silver spiked bracelet around it’s neck. She still had one after the fire but she’d lost the other one. Maybe instead of her having it, it would look better on it?

It stayed quiet for a long moment. It sat like a huge collar around it’s neck, falling loosely around it, until Roxy found a way to shorten it more than it was supposed to be shortened. It saw the two of them, side by side, matching spiked collars and both looking a little worse for wear, and decided she was right. This was perfect. Roxy gave a toothy smile as its excitement grew. This is what it wanted! Something that set it apart from the other Caution Bots! Something that linked it to the one that had changed everything for it!

Spike she offered then. Spike the Bumblebee.

With a few tiny magnets on its ears and a few more suggestions, Spike the Bumblebee stared at herself in the mirror, right beside Roxy’s prideful smile and knew for certain, what all of those warm and fuzzy feelings were called.

What else could they be, but love.

[terrence-silver]

Does Terry teases beloved about the height difference between them? I’m sure almost everyone he knows is shorter than him cause, you know, men is a walking tree, but if beloved and him was a big height difference cause beloved is short in general, does Terry teases her about not being able to reach certain things that are on higher shelves and how he’s so huge compare to her? 

I can see him being amused seeing beloved getting mad with the jokes he does about her height 

---

I think it is quite the opposite.

Of course Terry relishes being tall. Statuesque. Fit, for lack of a better word. Of course he internally beams with delight whenever someone is but an inch shorter than him and he makes a petty, self-apprising, triumphant mental note of it, taking delight each and every time he's the biggest man in the room all while casually flaunting it, making it pretty impossible to ignore even when he doesn't, feeling it is a personal victory of his, simply because it is just another silent power move, another way to have the upper hand, because it feeds his ego among a great many other things and because it is a way to be the apparent alpha and a way to control the environment, but controversial opinion, he's smarter than to be awfully brash, cocky and open about it, even when he actually is, deep down.

Terry Silver's long con is that he always appears humble. About everything. We all know he isn't, far from, but the people he deals with do not (for the most part?) because Terry ensures that is the case. Remains the case, if he can help it and he always can, one way or another. Because he's a chameleon. Because he doesn't really wear his actual opinions on his sleeve like that. He is seemingly humble about his accomplishments, his wealth, his connections and yes, even all the way down to things such as height.

In fact, rather than teasing anyone outright about anything, beloved or not, he might just appear the noble guru and he'd go as far as encourage them concerning their shortness, whoever this 'they' might be --- could be anyone ranging from a student, to a friend, to a loved one, to an enemy. It doesn't exactly matter. Whether it is done in an environment such as a dojo; where he could easily say any body has the potential to be a deadly weapon if honed properly --- and both mean it and not, depending how foul or fair his end goals are. Whether it is between business associates, at some corporate, say, cocktail, or wherever the rich mingle, where Terry Silver seems downright egalitarian for show praising all these body types which aren't quite like his, and the whole room coos at just how kindly Mr. Silver is (not realizing how easy it is to act all-inclusive when you're on top where ableness is concerned), or if he is oddly enough, encouraging an enemy he wants to do more harm to than good that yes, going up against a foe twice one's height without preparation totally won't decimate them in combat and have them beaten up. All's possible if you only believe. Just go for it! Honesty, compassion and fairplay! It will be just like the story of David and Goliath.

Often, Terry Silver's intentions are utterly dishonest. Sweet-sounding and fake.

Neatly packed as good intentions (paving the road to high hell).

And very rarely, they're genuine, with the right people.

But, regardless, seldom are his tendencies to tease, mock and prod that apparent or crudely transparent. They're hidden. Beneath layers of meaning, double entandres, posturing, wordplay and good publicity. Even if Terry Silver did make fun of someone's height, the jab (both malicious and benevolent alike) would be so slickly and well concealed that it would almost seem like an uplifting comment initially. A couple of years later, once the charm offensive wears off, one realizes Terry Silver's been making fun of them and hitting them with backhanded remarks the whole time.

[brendinoj]

The meaning of the Beast Titan.

I wanted to go more in depth from my last post about Tom Ksaver, Zeke Yeager, and their Beast Titan. I explained why their titan represents passion and determination but I wanted to add on to what I said beforehand. When done with this, it should be thoroughly explained why I believe this to be the case... at least in my most simplest terms and if you want more info then the video is a great reference.

As we know Tom Ksaver had a wife who was Marlyan and they bore a child together. The day she found out he was of Eldian descent, she ended up taking the life of their child and her own shortly afterward. After this event, Tom Ksaver always harbored a great amount of guilt and had always wondered how much better it would’ve been if he hadn’t been born into such a cruel world. 

This Revelation only came to light after him and Zeke had a conversation about the founding titan and it’s abilities to manipulate the bodies of the subjects of Ymir, no matter where they were in the world and Zeke asking would it be possible to Eldians no longer be able to bear children with this power. Zeke’s thought came from finding out about the founding Titans Abilities and how much power it held over the subjects of Ymir and after finding this out he remembers a moment of discrimination from a Marleyan man during his childhood.

You see the passion for this concept of not having to exist in such a cruel world always existed deep within Ksaver and Zeke brought it to light with his question of the founding titan. This passion always lied dormant within Zeke as well due to the upbringing he experienced, whether it was with the family that tried to force their beliefs on him or the how the world around him treat him due to the blood that flowed through his veins.

Zeke would do countless reprehensible to get closer to his goal, such as slaughtering the scouts; who were Eldians....the same people he wanted to save from this world and betray him Marleyan comrades; moreso the warriors and bring great destruction to Liberio. To Zeke, the ends justified the means. He also acknowledges this in the panel before his death when he says  

As Desperate as Zeke was he comes to the realization that he never wanted anything other than a regular life and that he would’ve been happy playing catch forever and living again if he could play catch with Ksaver forever and to double down on this he even ends up thanking Grisha, the father he hated for so long. His true passion was always to live a normal life and just experience the small moments in life that were truly precious 

Two put it short, Zeke did truly believe the end of suffering for Eldians was to disappear from their world, as he says he doesn’t believe the dream Tom Ksaver and he had wrong and he was truly passionate about it. But below the surface he always desired to just be normal and the evidence we had for that was not only his conversation with Armin 

But two examples from his childhood as well....

Watch the video for a more thorough analysis!

[felixcloud6288]

Fullmetal Alchemist Chapter 51

I've admittedly not been looking forward to this chapter.

The part where Roy's eaten flames come in handy for Ed and Lin shows how Arakawa thought out events in the story. Ed and Lin were going to get eaten by Gluttony and were going to need light to explore. So how do we get light? Let's have Gluttony eat Roy's flame attack prior to that.

It's strange to me how Ed, Lin, and Envy weren't all next to each other in Gluttony's stomach though. Ed ended up around the wreckage of the house, and he and Lin found the piece of ground Gluttony consumed when he swallowed them all. Al's hand is still on that plot of land. But they don't encounter Envy until some time later.

I like how we can see the three tree root ends of that one tree that was barely outside the blast.

When Ed realized Lin's torch was made from a human bone, Ed started to hold it in the way people hold icky things.

It's crazy what stuff we see in Gluttony's stomach. There's part of a building, which I'm going to guess is from East City. Maybe Gluttony had to eat his way out after Scar blew up the sewers?

I wouldn't be surprised if there are bacterial colonies and maybe some small insects or worms living in this dimension. Ed and Lin never indicate any breathing issues.

I kinda want to know what would happen if you fell down that hole.

We have some May Chang and Xiao Mei backstory and Scar being a nice guy. Since they're getting attention, that definitely means something is going to happen with them. So we'll soon have the legendary moment where May's fantasies come crashing down.

I'm going to guess there's a concrete floor right under that fire hydrant and wall piece.

Ed and Lin really did eat the boot. Ed's left boot is gone after that scene.

Envy actually tried to be amicable. They even stopped making fun of Ed's height. But they just can't help but brag about all the horrible stuff they've done.

Meanwhile, Lin doesn't know anything about the Ishbal Civil War, but he's disgusted at Envy bragging about causing it.

Now onto why I've not been looking forward to talking about this chapter. I've tried to come up with a good way to put it and have had no success so I'll just say it.

I've been staring at every panel where you can see Envy's feet.

No, it's not like that!

When Envy is transforming, Lin brings up how Envy's steps in the woods sank the ground, and how they destroyed an iron fence by jumping on it. All this means that Envy is far heavier than their preferred appearance would imply. So I was wondering how many additional hints I could find. The only thing I could find was that one time Envy managed to smash the brick road with a single punch in chapter 39. There might be a slight hint in chapter 6 as well when Envy first appears. Notice the impact effect from their walk.

On a side note, I kind of want to be a little annoying about how Envy's power would work given their mass is near constant. There's this thing called the square-cube law. Let's say you have an object that is a certain initial shape and volume. If you modify the object's size such that it keeps the exact same shape, the object's surface area increases by the square of the size increase while it's volume increases by the cube of the size increase.

As an example. If I have a 1x1x1 cube, it will have a surface area of 6 (6 1x1 square faces) and a volume of 1 (1x1x1). If I double all it's proportions, I'll have a 2x2x2 cube which now has a surface area of 24 which is 4 times greater than before. Meanwhile it's volume is now 8, which is 8 times greater than before.

In simpler terms, your weight increases way faster than your size. And the point I'm trying to get at is Envy having a constant weight means smaller body frames shouldn't be able to support their weight. A small dog's bones would be crushed under Envy's weight. And a horse not instantly collapsing and breaking all its legs under Envy's weight is absurd.

But anyway, that's just me over-analyzing things.

The scene with Al and Gluttony is all sorts of adorable. Gluttony pacing around is really cute. And that bird perched on Al only to get spooked when he spoke. And then Al jiggles Gluttony's belly causing Gluttony to step back embarrassed.

And now Al wants to meet Gluttony's father!?! Oh my!

back

[lightvixxen]

I just put it in one big post so I’m not spamming you 🙊

I’ve been thinking about Mistress Chrissy moving way away Hawkins with her pet after high school.

Spending weeks isolating and training her pet to be in subspace 24/7. Training pets body to be so sensitive and responsive, making pet so obedient.Spending all her parents money on cute little outfits, lingerie, and sex toys for her little pet.

Getting deeper into the kinks you share and discovering new ones

Pain kink

dumbification

Ownership

Objectification

Pet play

Bondage

Domination/submission

Humiliation/degradation

Mistress/slave

A24/7 dynamic

Total power exchange

She buys you a day collar, and bondage collar to wear at home, along with bondage cuffs for your wrists and ankles so she can get you tied up and helpless any time she wants.

She only calls you pet in private, or by other pet names, and chooses a new one you go by and that she calls you in public as a means to keep you in subspace and remind you that you’re nothing but her pet

She has cameras set up in every room because you’re the amateur porn queens. The only thing she allows pet to watch is your porn, and you two love fucking and watching your porn. She makes you edge yourself several times a day. If you’re home, it’s always to the porn you’ve made.

She gets your tongue, nipples, and hood pierced. She holds your hand, pets your head, and whispers what a good pet you are and how much mistress loves you while you’re getting them done. She loves making you climb stairs and having you walk by crossing your legs in front of each other because you’re practically doubling over, legs shaking from the jewelry stimulating you

Part of your morning routines is having her beat your tits, ass, and cunt with her hair brush. She won’t stop until she puts her hairbrush inside you and you’re so wet it slides out.

Whenever either of you are stressed, or just needy, you’ll slide onto the others lap and play with their tits. This always ends in making out and tribbing.

Chrissy has realized she’s not into dick, but is determined to make you a size queen. Buying bigger and bigger toys for your holes, then having you take them down your throat after you cum on them. You just look so cute whimpering and crying around them as she pushes them deeper. Loves seeing you with a belly bulge and hearing you scream and cum when she pushes down on it.

You get so used to calling her mistress and only mistress sometimes you start to in public. So being the dumb pet you are, she allows you to call her mistress in private and missy in public. Silly pet can’t even say Chrissy! How cute!

She buys and picks out all your outfits, all easy access, what you eat and when, how you work out and when, she controls everything. If you’re doing chores, it has to be in the slutty French maid uniform, or in an apron and heels, but otherwise naked.

Being far away from home and as out as you could be in the 80s it’s absolutely thrilling that you can walk hand in hand together sometimes. The first time you kissed her cheek in public you thought you were going to pass out! That night was the first time you gave her a hickie and you were so proud! Though she kept having to remind you to ttake it easy. She thought you were going to take revenge for all the hickies she gave you in high school.

JDVOJNLDJNJDKSBLJDBVJBDJNJLBS GOD IM SO DEPRAVED AFTER A WEEK OF NOT HAVING THEM! IM FERAL RN, also hun, spam me trust me i do not care.

And yessss finally being able to be in a 24/7 dynamic!! finally going into your proper training!!! All the stuff in school was so mild compared to your training cause now she gets to see you in the outfits 24/7<3 And all the kinks get found out one by one...She called you "Just a dumb fucking pet, so puss drunk she can't think of anything else" and oops dumbification unlocked. she slapped you ONE time and you looked her straight in the eyes and said "Harder, do it harder please." Others were already slightly open...she could just get her confirmation on them <3

Pet in private and bun/pup/kit in public!!! whichever one is your favorite! AND ALSO THE PORN ONE HHHHHHHH YES YES YES YES YES YES YES!!! She just wants to show everyone how obedient and submissive she's made you!!! showing off all the progress she's made with making you a size queen as well!! Showing off all the pretty outfits she puts you in before ruining it!!

Omgggg the piercing one...y e s they make you soooo much more sensitive and they feel good for her!!!! (she also may or may not have gotten some matching ones...she can't have ALL the fun<3)

lmao its getting wayy to long so divide lmao anyway

HAVING YOU SOOO TRAINED YOU CAN ONLY CALL HER BY HER TITLEEEE HHHH its just a force of habit :( you can't help it!!!

Her picking out all your outfits...she totally trashed your ENTIRE wardrobe (except all the stuff she had already bought you) out after graduation...also her controlling all your finances. Want something? gotta ask permission. Want your card? Gotta ask mistress. THE CHORES ONE YESSSS she has to be able to take you where and whenever in the house<3

theres so much but not enough time hhbsbbsbjllslfld

[gayferrari]

oh also!! sorry forgot - the inherent unequal distribution of power coming from liberty media (a media company, with big ability to sway public opinion and control the public narrative rather than a single person who can be held much more accountable (single person with a visible face vs faceless corporation with other links) means both races become more oriented toward spectacle (less likely to be safe) and if drivers attempt to use pr/social media/the press the controlling corporation is much more able to block any attempts.

even without double checking, liberty media is a big enough company that it almost certainly has inextricable links with, but not limited to, f1tv, sky sports, bbc, cnn, facebook, twitter, twitch, etc etc. obviously, the links to sky and cnn (i think that’s who broadcasts in america? correct me if i’m wrong) are very obvious, and f1tv even more so, as it is owned by fom (i think - i said i’m sleepy i’m v sorry) but no media company becomes big enough to buy formula one and motogp without some pretty strong business deals with the various other organisations i mentioned, plus every single major news outlet that reports on races and the drivers in the context of them being formula one drivers.

this means that, should drivers become frustrated at the lack of safety precautions (quatar, max & oscar & carlos & alex, the inability for any theoretically queer drivers to come out without losing their seat due to the entrenched homophobia etc of some countries) or by tracks becoming more dangerous (quatar! las vegas & bahrain ill prep, whichever bloody country wants a mario ramp) or by bullshit penalties (carlos, las vegas, drain cover complications), they have few ways of openly expressing this frustration in any kind of meaningful way if liberty feels the driver in question is attacking them, as they have the ability to force companies to not report on occasions or quell spread of outrage somewhat on social media. we know this because of the examples i’ve given up above - these are all relatively extreme, which tells us that more minor problems are being swept under the rug, and only very obvious issues are often reported on or talked about for a short amount of time.

i’d like to come back to the mario ramp and the drain covers as examples of memes being used to oversaturate the mainstream and so block out productive conversation and outrage over issues fans should be furious over - it’s one thing for the fia to not compensate fans over spa 2021, it’s another thing altogether for them to be risking driver’s lives on a giant ass curve in the sky that is several stories high. i swear to god if that ends up built i would not be surprised to see someone die there - all it takes is a wet race or a snap of over/understeer and a car is going off (think mark webber euro gp 2010, or numerous f2 accidents). also, the penalty for carlos after the management of las vegas and the fia hadn’t done their due diligence was fucking stupid. and the fact it happened again in testing in bahrain clearly demonstrates a worrying trend of circuits that are not up to standard being awarded the go ahead anyway.

and yet i’ve barely heard anything about either of these things recently, unless mentioned as a meme. this is a classic tactic used by companies looking to get people to forget about their fuck ups - by making something so laughable it’s no longer a concern.

so if drivers cannot expect the safety department to keep them safe, and cannot go to the media, what can they do? strike, and hope their teams will not replace them? or race anyway, and risk their lives, and risk their bodies (carlos could have been seriously, career-endingly affected by that drain cover) and risk thwir careers, and hope something happens.

(yeah, single, ur v sweet lmao)

[follow up to this ask; after last night's #driver safety talks asks!!! paging @sacharowan & @sistermclarens if u guys are interesting in more thoughts!]

I love a good rant in my inbox <3 I don't follow the PR / social media discussion around F1 enough to have a reasoned opinion about most of this but I will say fuck that shitty ass track in the sky, for real. I was surprised to see drivers post about it on social media, even if they were paid to, especially the younger guys who might have to end up racing there if the project doesn't change.

I think ESPN & ABC have the rights to F1 in the US fwiw!

[miraycavlan]

Self Para - Meeting with the Past

Location: Miray's Chambers at the Castle Who: a servant at the Castle who her mother inherited

It wasn't an uncommon sight to see; Miray was buried in a book once more. Curled up in the large chair in front of the window that looked out over the nature that King's Hill contained. It was a scenery that she could not get enough of. And it was currently also the reason why she was unable to focus on the book in her lap. She was drowning in her own thoughts and was only pulled out of it, at the sound of someone knocking on the door.

"Come on in!" The young woman called out to the person on the other side of the door, expecting someone else besides one of the personal staff of Sebastian. Probably the wrong door. Miray got up from her seat to face the young woman who had come through the door.

"Sofia? I think you have the wrong rooms." But as soon as Miray had said it, she felt it. There was something different about the woman. A distant look was in her eyes and a chill filled Miray. She had had enough of surprises, both pleasant and unpleasant these days.

"Gülüm, it is so good to see you again. You haven't changed a bit."

Miray couldn't do anything else but stare at the young girl. Gülüm. The only one who had always called her that, had been her mother. And there weren't many people who knew about that.

The rumours were there; the line between life and death was a fine one these days. However, Miray had never expected this to happen. To be faced with her mother in the shape of a young girl she only knew in passing.

"Mum? Is that really you?"

"Yes, it's me. I don't have a lot of time but I needed to see you. I left you with a lot of questions and it is only fair that you get your answers."

A lot of different feelings moved through Miray's body. Anger over the many things of her past that her mother had left out. Happiness over the fact that it truly was her mother again, the woman she had missed so much. Sadness because it was only a short moment. So because it was only a short moment of time that Miray was able to spend with her mother, she asked the one question that had been bothering the most these days.

"Why have you never told me that my father was a witch? Or something else." The question was quickly asked, tumbling from her mouth as she looked at the other.

"I see now that I never should have done that. But at that time. He left us. I did not want him anywhere near you. He did not deserve you. When you didn't show any signs of having powers as well, it was easier to keep it quiet. And then when I should have told you... it was already too late to tell you."

The answer was not one that she had hoped for. It did not give her anything that she couldn't have thought of herself yet. Miray took a deep breath, trying to keep her cool. As far as that was possible while talking to your mother who had passed away. "Who was he?" The other important question that she had.

"Your father was from the Westland. He came to Haven due to business. We met and we fell in love. Or so I thought. It was all a bit of fun for him and he returned to Westland as soon as he learned of my pregnancy. Saying that he couldn't be with a human in the end."

So she had roots in the Westland. A place where Miray had only been when she had accompanied Sebastian during one trip over there. And even though she knew more about her father now, it was met with double feelings. She knew now but at the same time... He had indeed left them. He had never been in her life or had showed a sign that he wanted to be in her life.

Miray bit her lower lip as she looked at the woman in front of her. "I wish you had told me more about the entire world, mum. I know nothing about everything outside of Haven. I'm only learning more and more since the last five years." And most of that all had she learned after arriving in Kings' Hill. "I live in King's Hill now."

It was nearly as if she hear the smile in the voice. "I know. I have kept an eye on you. I am happy to see that Seb is in your life again. The two of you were always together. I always thought the two of you would be married and have a family by now."

It clearly hadn't gone that way, but Miray was indeed happy to have Seb in her life again. Even when the trust between the two of them wasn't the same anymore at this moment.

"I'm not sure if that is ever going to happen." Miray had a feeling that she wasn't really viewed as something who was right for the throne.

"Just don't lose faith, gülüm. You are capable of more than you think. You always have been."

Miray brought her hand quickly to her face to wipe away the single tears that spilled, shaking her head because she did not want to cry.

"I have to go now. Just know I am always near you, even though you can't see me. You are able to deal with all of the new. Keep the people you care for close and trust your instincts. Those have always been right. I love you."

"I love you too, mum," Miray mumbled, even though she wasn't sure if her mother had heard any of that as a bewildered look took the place of the distance look in the eyes of Sofia. The young woman clearly didn't understand how she had gotten there.

"What happened?"

[theravenflies]

Okay, as a mod of cripplecharacters, I'm about to go off from several different angles. And these aren't even all of my thoughts. I have more. (TW for ableism, mention of prone restraints, caricature characters, and really, really poor writing of disabled characters.)

If she didn't get her information through a collaboration with Autism Speaks then where'd she get it? She claims she did three years of research. Did none of that research include basic stuff about writing disabled characters in general? Also, it takes five seconds to find out that there's an issue with Autism Speaks. It's in the little Wikipedia blurb. She didn't even skim Wikipedia in three years?

Not even come slightly close to the topic of prone restraints (which have a death count,) and definitely not portray is as a good thing twice

Gotten rid of that detail of Music having an accident during Kazoo's relapse. Yeah, that can happen sometimes with some autistics in real life, but the fact that it was portrayed the way it was and by an actress who wasn't autistic-

Similarly, the angry "Brush you hair" scene was... where to even start? No, not by an actress who isn't, at the very least, MSN or semispeaking (or even nonspeaking)

Gotten rid of that inspiration porn Music singing scene at the end.

Significantly rewritten the guy who is... I think he's Zu's love interest?

Actually done something with the kid who seemed to care so deeply for Music.

Explained how said kid managed to acquire twenty thousand dollars to buy Music a service dog over the internet just like that???

Remove Music not doing anything about finding her grandmother dead on the floor??? Or at least acknowledge that the poor girl was probably traumatized from the experience and had no idea what to do or how to help? It's shot almost like she's being selfish and choosing not to help rather than being disabled, terrified, and unable to help.

Not forced Maddie into this movie using their massive power imbalance. Definitely should never have forced a young teenaged girl into a position so bad that she literally broke down sobbing because she didn't want to come across as a caricature, at which point Sia lied to her. Look, Maddie was what, fourteen? And Sia was basically a mother figure and the one responsible for Maddie's success.

Not called stimming tics. Tics come from a very different group of disorders, involuntary stimming behaviours are a completely different thing with different reasons and mechanisms. If she wanted to write Music having tics, she should have given her a tic disorder. Actually, wait, scratch that. She screwed up badly enough with a singularly-disabled character. I don't want to know how much lower she could go by trying to portray a multiple-disabled character.

Not lied about trying to get a nonspeaking actress (because she was quoted long before that as saying she would only make the movie if Maddie was the main role. She wasn't going to try with an autistic actress.) Not acted like firing the fictional autistic actress was a mercy rather than putting some work in and making the set accessible for her.

Like, sure, maybe a hypothetical nonspeaking actress couldn't have been able to handle the dancing. You know what the solution to that is? Either adapt the dancing or get her an autistic stunt double who can do the dancing

Not have Music be significantly less autistic in her head? The stimming and movement abnormalities fade, if not vanish entirely, during the dream sequences. As though the version of Music in her head is less autistic than Music in her body, maybe even not autistic at all. Which is an idea that has blood on its hands

Not tried to portray all of autism rather than just Music, a character who happens to be autistic. What Sia was doing was trying to portray autism as a whole, or maybe even turn the entire idea of autism into a character rather than create a person with autism. Compare this to a (slightly) better example, Wendy from Please Stand By. Dakota Fanning wasn't trying to portray all of autism and her character wasn't written to portray autism as a whole, she was playing Wendy, one particular autistic woman, rather than a caricature.

Given Music literally anything. Why doesn't she have hobbies? Where's her personality? I know nothing about Music as a person and that's because she wasn't written to be a person.

The dead disabled brother plot was unnecessary. As was the HIV plot.

"She can hear two rooms away" she's autistic, not Superman.

The grandmother left absolutely no plan to help Zu care for her H-MSN sister, not even a note in her will like "The neighbour is close with her, he can help." I know she died suddenly but c'mon, she has a grandchild who will need care for the rest of her life, she should have been more cautious as an elderly woman. Her carelessness was setting Zu up for failure and Music up for an even worse time of this massive change in her life.

So yeah, it would make sense that there's some growing pains, Zu has no idea how to interact with her sister and her sister is probably distressed, confused, grieving, and frustrated because her entire world is changing. But rather than treating this as a "Yeah, this would have gone better with a bit of planning and we're both struggling because we're going into this blind," it's portrayed as "Music is the source of all of my problems, she's the worst, she's unreasonable, she's the worst thing that's ever happened to me and I hate her." Why is Music being portrayed as a burden rather than the burden being how ill-prepared the grandmother left all involved parties for this eventuality.

Wasn't Music meant to be HSN? Like, level three autism? Spoken like someone who's never interacted with someone who's HSN before.

Zu is high-key resentful towards Music as though any of this is her fault and she seems so desperately dedicated to either ignoring or despising her sister and the way it's portrayed makes it feel like the audience is supposed to agree with Zu?

Wow, I went off. To keep this from being nine hundred miles longer, she should have just not done that. If she had submitted this plot to cripplecharacters, literally any of us, autistic or not, could have told her not to do this. Did she even talk to someone from the disabled community? You don't even need to be autistic, just disabled, to know that pretty much all of this was a horrific idea.

What SIA Should’ve Done Making Her Movie ‘Music’

Cast an autistic actor for the main character

Consulted with actual autistic people instead of f$&@ing Auti$m $peaks

Did PROPER research

Made the movie accessible to watch - got rid of the whole flashing light thing that could trigger seizures

Used an actual mixed actor instead of doing literal blackface

Started being open to criticism instead of having a flip out at people for calling her out

Not agreed with an interviewer comparing non-verbal people to an actual inanimate object wtf

Feel free to add to this