#oops i try to post these at more or less at the same time every day but today i almost forgot about peanuary

[omppupiiras]

peanuary day 19: ❄❄❄

he's all bundled up and ready to face the cold!

[8-8it]

Thoughts on some discussion I saw floating around for the Beast-Yeast Ep.10 Trailer. Please excuse any typos or anything like that, I have been up all night oops. Tried to clean things up and make them more sensical in the transcript below.

Links; Youtube Video On How Corsets Affect A Plus Size Figure; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PSvy8N61YnI History of Corsets 1780-1912; https://silhouettescostumes.com/the-eras-we-build/history-of-corsets-1780-1912/ Transcript;

Image One

"Hello! Ive seen a lot of people very confused about Hollyberry Cookie's awakened form in light of the trailer drop and I wanted to try and explain things!

Note that I am not very good at explaining things nor a dress historian myself however I do know a lot as a freelance sewist and autistic individual.

This explanation heavily relies on pictures to convey my point, but since this font is unique a transcript will be avaliable in the "read more".

So why does Hollyberry look so much skinnier in her awakened form?"

Image Two

"The difference here lies in fabric weight primarily and how it sits on a body.

Typically, Tighter clothes will make someone look smaller, and looser clothes can make them look bigger. No one person looks the same size in every outfit. The way fabric falls on a body varies heavily on the fabric and the cut of a cloth. One silk dress of one pattern does not look the same as a completely different silk dress.

I have tried to pick women of a similar size to use for these examples.

Armour is constrictive, heavy, and a dress is more light and flowy. (To A Certain Degree, will explain.)"

Image Three

"However, that explanation is not all encompassing. We're going to have to take a look at Victorian* clothing to understand more.

A big part of this lies in her corset and the layering surrounding so.

A corset is not typically constrictive, nor does it function like a chest binder or a waist cincher. They were used as we use bras today.

It appears to me that Hollyberry wears a corset at *all* times, in every outfit of hers.

*The term Victorian here is used for audience familiarity and ease of communication, however it is not entirely accurate. I will also compile some sources and such in the "read more" If you are curious."

Image Four

"Like all other garments, not all corsets are created equally. Different methods are used in different eras, and different corsets are used for different things.

While most european human history leaves a lot to be desired in terms of womens rights, we can imagine that a 'battle corset' would exist in the case needed.

However I cannot even find evidence of athletic corsets beyond cosplay and fantasy.

This type of corset, however, would be similar to a sports bra. Breathable, but hold everything together. This would be especially desirable at war.

! - While looking for references for this post, I found a youtube video going into how different corsets affect the way the same plus sized body appears, which would be great to look at if you're more intimately curious about how exactly these differences are at play and with plus sized individuals."

Image 5

"Which means that the structure of undergarments in both outfits is widely different, and would greatly effect how her body appears.

More "constrictive" undergarments (Like an aformentioned sports bra, or our imagined "battle corset") make the body look much smaller. Less constrictive undergarments will be more true to one's actual form.

A lot of Hollyberry's mass in her design is in her chest, which means alterations to the corset that she is wearing would change a *lot*!

Undergarments can make a huge difference in your measurements and how your body fat is aligned, especially corsets, stays, etc."

Image 6

"While I do not know a lot about how armour works especially intimately, nor could I find any real-life references of plus sized women in such. I do know quite a lot about historical women's dresswear.

Hollyberry's dress is beyond "fluffy". To me, it appears to be a traditional european dress made up of many different pieces.

Since this is Cookie Run, I cannot pinpoint a specific time period, however I can vauge at anypoint between the 1700s-1800s.

Dresses, In a generalized sense, are build out of much more than just a dress that you slip on. Many dresses for royalty are even more extravagant.

Here are some fairly generalized examples of the pieces put together to make a "dress". Different time periods dress much differently, however.

It can be assumed that it is Hollyberry's petticoat sticking out at the base of her dress here."

Image 7

"Breaking down Hollyberry's dress into pieces; Historically speaking, a lot of dresses were built of multiple different pieces, whereas nowadays, all of these pieces would be sewn together for efficiency, if a replica was to be made in the first place.

(A breakdown of each piece of her dress/outfit is written down, outlining each piece in a different color over her sprite.)

"Shirts" are quite long and vary extremely, and are more comparable to a short slip dress than a modern shirt. However I am just guessing, the build of this dress could be a bit (or a lot) different, ex including an underdress etc.

With the sillohute given, I can also assume she is wearing a hoopskirt. Naturally, She would also be wearing undergarments. Chimeses and a corset most likely.

Conclusion: 10 Or More Pieces."

Image 8

"These two things will probably never sit the same on someone's body."

Image 9

"Hollyberry most definitely is still plus-sized especially when compared to other cookies. Though, while her dress may (not definitive) build up her figure a lot, it is *not* just her dress making her appear so large!

Random (Thin) cookies for comparisons sake.

The shapes of these two illustrations are a bit different, however, that doesnt mean that Hollyberry's body is different now. (See previous images)

I definitely want to mention that her bodytype appears more consistient in this leaked arena statue rather than the animated trailer."

Image 10

"And I want to mention that the animated cutscenes are always a bit "off model" of finished sprites. For aura or somthing. It definitely strikes me as odd that Hollyberry looks so different. I do not believe it *entirely* lies in her dress, however her clothing is a contributor."

Image 11

"However, I do not blame you for feeling alarmed when you compare these two images.

From a fashion and arts perspective, it is apparant to me that her body type is consistient between her awakened form and her default, and remains plus sized. Hopefully, it is clearer that it is so in her sprites when the update fully drops."

Image 12

"I hope that this was at least a bit interesting and helps enlighten you a bit on why Hollyberry could look so different!!

Remember that any of us could always be wrong *or* right, and I hope you all have fun when the update comes out!

Cheers!!"

[souperbloom]

being in love. [A.I.]

loosely based on lyrics of the song with the same title, by Wet Leg.

roadie! reader x Ashton

in which you realize your feelings for your boss are a lot more detrimental than you thought they were.

this was supposed to be short and i went overboard. oops! enjoy my first post :^)

CONTENT WARNINGS: tension/slight mental angst, mentions of weed smokin', sex in a somewhat public place/exhibitionism, teasing, fingering(f!receiving), dirty talk, degradation, straight up p in v, insinuation of a creampie, porn with plot basically, filth, filth, FILTH (there is something seriously wrong with me).

WORDCOUNT: 7.9k

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

You couldn’t fucking stand him.

As much as you wanted to believe that statement, your heart, mind, and soul found every which way to make you believe otherwise.

The days you spent with him dragged on. His over the top personality was like a vacuum cleaner that sucked every ounce of life out of you.

And yet, despite your annoyance with his ability to charm his way towards your demise, the days without him felt like a lifetime.

Since the first time you and Ashton hooked up, all you were able to think about, after the fact, were the things that you really shouldn’t have been.

Almost every night without missing a beat, you’d lie awake in bed; staring off at the ceiling through your post-show exhaustion and reminiscing on the hours you’ve spent with him. Sneaking off between down times and show times. For a quick and casual fuck.

You’d think about his terrible jokes, the little speckles of brown lost between the hues of green in his eyes, or his ability to make you feel like nothing in the best possible way.

You thought about them. You thought about him. All in hopes that one day, you’d think about him so hard that he would just vanish.

It was reverse psychology, you thought, a way to turn that fluttering feeling you get when you’re around him into something a little less existential, and more like you had both originally intended.

Something more casual.

You didn’t like the fact that he had this effect on you. He was about as brutish and irritating as the day is long. When it was just the two of you, you wished more than anything that he would stop being so damn’ sweet and charismatic. The thought of him calling you nicknames and whispering sweet nothings in your ear made you want to curl up and die.

But the vital organ pumping blood through your veins begged to differ.

Whenever he was around, the pounding of your heart against your ribcage was so deafening, you were almost certain that he could hear it.

It felt strange to wake up, to lie down, to close your eyes and think about anything else. You couldn’t even eat without the thought of him stirring up nausea in your stomach. It was almost as if nothing you did could satisfy you. Nothing you did was right.

Because any time without him felt so wrong.

There were moments in which you wondered whether or not he could feel it too. You'd catch him staring at you from across the dressing room, his eyes lingering down your frame for a millisecond longer than normal.

But you're never quite able to figure it out. To figure him out. He was a thousand piece puzzle, and you were stuck looking for the last piece between the couch cushions.

"Yo, earth to Y/N. Did we lose ya' again?"

Your trance is broken by the sound of Calum's voice. You had been so wrapped up in your own pity-party that you had completely forgotten that you were in the middle of a conversation.

"Jeez, are we really that boring?" Luke laughs out, leaning back in his seat, "I thought our conversation about green tea was quite compelling."

"Sorry, sorry..." You try to snap yourself out of whatever God forsaken rut you've dug yourself into, covering up the awkward silence with the clearing of your throat. "...I guess I don't like green tea as much as I thought I did."

"I'm with Y/N on this one. Green tea is fucking disgusting." Michael comes to your rescue with his reply, which practically had you kissing his shoes as a thank you for saving my ass.

"You guys clearly have no taste. It's simple." Luke shrugs, taking a sip of his ice water. "I know if Ashton was here he'd be on our side, right Cal?"

Calum nods his head, "Speaking of Ashton... where the fuck is he? He said he'd meet us..." he pauses his sentence to look at his phone, "...like, an hour ago."

The pit of your stomach lurches at Calum's observation. He was right. Ashton had said he'd be down in the lounge... after he took a quick shower.

But then again, a quick shower was one of those double entendres in you and Ashton's world. Was he waiting for you? Did you misread his subtle glance after he walked right past you when you tried to hand him his water?

Or maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe you’re just overthinking things.

Maybe he just looked at you because he's your boss and you're his roadie; who he just so happens to fuck from time to time.

That's all it was. That's all it ever will be.

"I can go look for him?" You blurt, immediately wanting to smack yourself in the face for sounding so small.

"You don't have to do that, Y/N. He'll find his way down eventually." Michael sighs.

"He's like a ghost, dude... He disappears for hours. Doesn't answer his phone. Then suddenly, POOF, he appears out of thin air. It's fuckin' witchcraft, I think..."

Calum's comment earns a roaring laugh from the rest of the guys, but you weren't at all laughing. You were too busy debating walking out of the door and hoping they wouldn't notice you were gone.

"I don't think I believe in ghosts..."

Another dumbass conversation ensues.

"Are you kidding?! Since when did you stop believing in ghosts?!" Luke seems genuinely offended by Michael's admission.

And yet, you were stuck there. Wanting to rip your hair out as a giant cloud of sex-driven frustration rained down on you.

"Speaking of ghosts," you can't help but interject, speaking a little louder than you had originally anticipated, "I think I’m gonna go look for Ashton. He's probably off haunting the bar down in the lobby…"

"Well, if you insist," Calum says, saluting you, "good luck, ghost hunter."

As you exited the lounge with no issue and let the boys be boys, you thought to yourself.

Hm, getting out of there was a lot easier than I had anticipated.

But what you hadn't anticipated was the sheer speed in which your feet would pound against the floorboards once you started off down the hall. For you knew just where to look for him.

You were on a mission. A mission to find Ashton, in hopes that he could be the one to free you of the confines of your frustration. In the best way you both knew how.

Once you made it to the elevator corridor, you had to take a moment. To collect yourself and think... what the fuck are you doing?

Did you really think that fucking Ashton would get your mind off of the romantic connection you so desperately craved in him? Did you really think this was the best idea you've ever had?

The answer was no. You knew that this whole ordeal would dig your metaphorical grave ten feet deeper. But you honestly didn't have the energy to care. This witch hunt has turned into merely a way to get off.

Just like God intended.

You step into the elevator, already knowing your way around this hotel like the back of your hand after only being stationed here for a few days.

As the elevator made its' trip up to the rooftop, your senses were heightened. The elevator dings sounded like sirens and the climbing of floors was pushing down on you, making you feel as though the oxygen in your lungs was being forced out by the altitude change.

Your symptoms couldn't be explained by anything other than Ashton, as much as you hated to admit it. It was typical for you to feel this way whenever you answered to his beckoning call.

Just a quick and casual fuck. Quick. And casual.

You tried to focus your mind on those two words. Forcing your conscious out of habit and tricking yourself into believing them.

But as soon as the elevator door slid open, those two words were nothing but dust in the wind.

All you could see in the darkness of the twinkling summer sky was the curve of Ashton's shoulder, highlighted slightly by the patio lights. He was looking out past the glass that surrounded the rooftop, off into the New York City skyline.

You froze up upon seeing him, barely managing to step across the elevator threshold without vomiting all over your shoes.

There were remnants of smoke lingering in the air around him, a familiar, earthy smell touching your nose upon piecing your two senses together.

Before you could tell your brain to step forward, Ashton's head turns to face you. You finally get a look at him, a good look at him.

And fuck, did he look divine.

His hair was partially wet, rogue curls hanging lowly on his forehead with that post show gleam still laced throughout his features. He scratches at the stubble on his chin, a droplet of water dripping down his temple upon doing so.

"Y/N," he leered, the blank expression that once painted his face now lifting into a smirk.

"Ashton," you reply; although small talk is the last thing you wished to be having at the moment.

"Where've ya' been?" he asks, leaning his arm to rest against the back of the couch he was sprawled out on.

"The lounge... The guys are down there waiting for you, y'know." You try to divert the attention away from yourself. But you knew for a fact that you were the only thing on his mind right now.

His eyes scan your body. Up, and down. Up, and down. Like he was stuck in some sort of trance. "Well, that's funny, isn't it. Because I've been up here… waiting for you."

You fuckin’ knew it.

"And how was I supposed to know that?"

He pauses, thumbing at his chin, "I'm not sure, actually... 'Thought you would've had me figured out by now."

It was taking everything inside of you not to run over there and smack the shit out of him for being such a snarky asshole. But you were well aware of the dynamic between you two; this type of banter wasn't out of the ordinary.

"You just gonna stand there and stare at me, honey?" Ashton remarks, calling you by that nickname that makes your stomach hurt and revealing his hand from behind the couch; a lit and half-smoked joint plucked between his fingertips.

Without another word, you walk over to him, slowly starting to display more and more of his body laid out on the couch.

He had on a loosely fitting Hawaiian shirt, one of the ones with only half the normal amount of buttons, and a pair of grey sweatpants. To contradict the tone of the outfit and make it totally clear to you where his head was at when he put them on.

The Hawaiian shirt hung off of his shoulders, revealing his collarbone decked out in beaded necklaces and braided silver chains.

You wanted more than anything to take those chains between your teeth as he hovered over you, pinning you down and fucking into you like you were the last two people on Earth.

Sidetracked, Y/N. You’re getting sidetracked.

When it came to hooking up, you and Ashton had discovered a natural rhythm. A routine, of sorts, consisting of unspoken demands and a whole lot of Ashton holding the reins.

No need to give orders, or ask for more. You both knew what you wanted and exactly how to get it.

But that routine so deeply instilled in you had seemed to vanish as soon as you stepped in front of him.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you teetered from side to side, just admiring Ashton in all of his residually high glory. You wanted to say something, but couldn't bring yourself to say anything else but these two words:

"Fuck me."

His eyes widen in shock. Amusement, even. The joint between his fingers dwindling down to the roach and leaving ashes in the wind as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

"Y/N, I—"

You cut him off abruptly, "It wasn't a fucking question, Ash."

You didn't mean to come off so bossily, but at this point you were willing to do anything to forget about the weight that came with having alleged feelings for him.

Even if that something was letting him fuck you until you cried.

"Right here?"

"Yes." Your heart was racing.

"Right now?"

"Yes." Reminiscent of a heart attack.

And then he does something that makes you even more frustrated than you were before this entire ordeal. He looks at you, without a care, and just… shrugs.

“Works for me.”

You hated that. Oh, you fucking hated that. That cocky, ‘devil-may-care’ attitude. It gets you so worked up that you consider winding up your fist and cracking him the jaw.

But you don’t end up going through with your desires to hurt him at all. Instead, you’re pouncing at him. Scrambling to straddle his comfortably spread legs as he pulls you by your cheeks into a heated kiss.

You sigh upon feeling your lips on his, Ashton just as well. The both of you tend to melt into each other’s palms when your lips connect; which is another reason as to why your head was all fucked up and sideways in the first place.

As the kiss between you grows more primal, you find yourself taking out your frustrations and feelings on Ashton’s bottom lip. You sink your teeth into the soft flesh, tugging it down gently towards his chin.

His hands fumble for the button of your jeans, grunting lowly as he struggles to get it undone.

"Fuck— Get these… Get these damn things off…" The remark flies past his lips, and yours, in a disgruntled huff. You do as you’re told, momentarily disconnecting from him.

When you rise to your feet, being held up by weak, unreliable knees, he looks up. That face of amusement was still painted on, mocking you.

Was he still thinking about your desperate demand? Or was he just enjoying the view?

"Someone’s a little greedy tonight," he says, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his fresh, now sweaty, curls.

"I don’t wanna hear shit from you. You’re the greediest motherfucker alive." You tease back at him, undoing your zipper and shimmying out of your jeans.

"I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you, Miss ‘I never know what I want and I need Ashton to tell me’.”

"I knew what I wanted tonight, didn’t I?" His threats were empty, but you were loving it. You loved to tease, loved to be teased.

"That is true,” he sighs, looking down at the roach he had flicked onto the floor. He stomps it out with his steel-toed boot. "But that’s, what, one time—? Out of the however-the-fuck many times we’ve slept together?"

“You’re making this a lot more complicated than it has to be, Ash. Fuckin’ live a little.”

You were now in your t-shirt and underwear out on this rooftop, telling Ashton to live a little while you’re practically caving in on yourself in embarrassment.

"But, honey... why out here? Why right now?" he asks. Genuinely. Almost sweetly.

You didn't want to admit the real reason as to why you were acting so curtly. The embarrassment of sounding desperate and needy was doing numbers on you already.

"Does there always need to be a reason why?"

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling overexposed. But Ashton’s eyes scan down your frame as if there’s no shame left in the world.

"My apologies for seeming hesitant... You know full and well— I’d do you any time, any place.”

"Is that so?” you quip.

"I don’t think you realize how often I think about having you bouncing on my dick while I’m out on stage performing, so— yes, that is so.”

The way he admits this all so casually makes your stomach turn. You knew he was dirty, but not this dirty. You just assumed he knew that there was a time and place for all of these thoughts.

And the fact that he was thinking about you at all wasn’t making this any easier.

"Well?” Ashton snaps your mind out of the gutter. Ironic.

"Well what?"

"You just gonna stand there in your underwear?"

Oh. Right.

After a moment of blundering awkwardness, you walk towards him timidly, feeling as if your soul was freeing itself from your body as he extends his arms out to hold you.

You make your way back into his lap, digging your knees into the cushions comfortably beside his thighs and letting him run his blistered palm down the side of your face.

His bloodshot eyes find yours like a magnet. Your breath is trapped somewhere in your larynx as his hand continues its journey to your neck.

You felt like you were about to burst at the seams, the tension and friction building between you was like a bottle rocket, ready to set off into the sky.

And with that, exactly on cue, your heart is racing, as he cups your throat between ring finger and thumb. Your rattling ribcage was telling him all he needed to know when the pads of his fingers began to squeeze gently.

You close your eyes, "Ashton..."

"Y/N..." He repeats matching your hushed tone, swallowing the lump in his throat as your noses brush together.

His nose grazes yours with fragility and tenderness, his touch as light as a feather. But you couldn’t stand the space between you two. The clear disconnect between your lips and his.

He seemed to be lingering longer than usual. You found yourself wondering what the hell was going on in his head. Since you had clearly told him what you wanted a long time ago.

"Why aren’t you kissing me?" you ask quietly, still so close to his face that his features had gone blurry.

"Could ask you the same question, honey." His breath fans across your face and suddenly you’re reverting back to your old ways. Back before you were so— demanding.

“Well, not to be clichè, but— you’re meant to take the lead here, Ash.” You say it as if it were obvious, but he disagrees.

"Clearly not tonight."

Now, you were stuck.

You came up here to find him for one reason, and one reason only. To fuck him… to get your mind off of him.

But that all sounded a bit complicated, though. Didn’t it?

"Y/N…" He says your name again, reminiscent of pure honey dripping off of his tongue.

"Hm...?"

God, what is with him and saying your name?

"Is there something on your mind?"

You cock your head, "Would you still fuck me if I said no?..."

Ashton’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead.

"…Even if I wasn’t telling the whole truth?"

He backs away from you, giving you a better look at the confused expression laminated across his face.

"You’re a real card, aren’t’cha?”

His confusion melts into a smile, as he removes his hand from your neck to match his other at your waist. "You know I’d never force anything out of you, Y/N. But— just so you know… Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom."

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his terrible cliché, finding your hand lost in his unruly curls. "You’re such an old man."

He winces, "God— please… Don’t put that picture in my head… It’s killing the mood."

In the brief moment of silence and sweetness shared between you and him, it was taking everything inside of you not to scream at the top of your lungs.

You wanted to scream; Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you. Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you… over and over again.

Until it didn’t mean a thing.

"Not gonna lie to you, honey— M’gettin’ impatient." Ashton lets out a deep sigh, his eyes snapping you out of a downward spiral.

"Right, right. I’m sorry—"

You cut yourself short by reconnecting your lips to his. You missed this feeling, even after only a few minutes; something inside of you dies every time you pull away from him.

He pulls your waist into his torso, pushing you down and grinding you against the already hardened length in his sweatpants. The wildly thin material left no room for the imagination, as it was now creating friction against your wet panties.

"Fuckin’ hell, Y/N—" Ashton mumbles through your lips, and you just sigh. You sigh into him like putty in his hands, creating a rhythm of swiveling hips and only furthering the fireworks that were occurring in the pit of your stomach.

He removes one hand from your waist, blindly finding the waistband of your underwear like it was some mindless, natural instinct.

Muscle memory is a damned thing.

Detaching your lips from his, you whine. "Ash, please—"

You wince internally at how needy you sounded. How desperate and completely disheveled you’ve become at his touch. Yet the blistered pads of his fingers continued to trace slow, taunting patterns along your bikini line.

But as your breathing becomes more erratic, Ashton reads you like the book he already knows so well. Front page to back, cover to fucking cover.

He dips two fingers down into your underwear, attaching them to your sensitive bud.

You writhe above him, but he keeps you grounded, anchoring his hand on your waist with his forehead pressed against yours.

His eyes flutter closed in delight. "So fuckin’ wet for me, yeah? This’ all for me, honey?"

It felt like he was mocking you. Of course it was for him. It was all for him. Anything you ever did was for him. Any feelings you’ve felt, thoughts you’ve had, stories you’ve told… they were all for him.

You can only bring yourself to nod.

"Good, good…" he sighs, breathlessly, "Gonna’ take me so easy tonight…"

He continues his rhythm. One finger circling your clit while the other ghosts over your entrance. Heavenly sighs fall from your lips. You want to close your eyes, you want to enjoy the sensation as it were.

But you just couldn’t look away.

"Look at me, Ash."

A bout of confidence rolls through your veins and you aren’t quite sure where it was coming from, but you had no complaints. Your foreheads being pressed together was making you antsy.

His features were still blurry through glossy eyes, which you didn’t really like. You wanted to get a good look at him before you tried to dismiss these feelings, and pretend as though he meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

He does as he’s told, and backs away from you. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he took in every single feature, etching, God knows what else, on your face.

"You know how fuckin’ beautiful you are, Y/N?— Always so good for me… like an angel… heaven sent."

Those words unleash something inside of you. Tears begin to brim at your lower lash line and you’re suddenly reminded of the feeling that you are so desperately trying to forget.

Existing in this world with him felt so strange. You truly believe he was sent down to Earth to smite you and haunt your memories.

And hearing him call you an angel didn’t help a damn thing.

The words you utter next come out just above a whisper. Your throat feels gravelly, and dry. Like you hadn’t drank water in years.

"Fuck me, Ashton. Just— fuck me, please—"

"M’gettin' there," he grunts, ignoring your plea and still chipping away at your decorum with his bare hands.

You let out a loud, high pitched mewl as you feel his two fingers now inside of you. He always took his time when it came to pleasuring you, always making sure that you’d be the one getting off first, even if he didn’t get the chance to.

Now, you’ve found yourself thinking in depth about just how thoughtful he is.

Jesus fuck, give it a rest.

"You know how much I adore those sweet sounds you make. But you’ve gotta be a tad bit quieter for me, alright angel?"

Oh god, you thought, this nickname better not become a recurring thing. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to fathom the thought of him thinking of you so highly.

"Okay, oh— fuck, Ashton"

Your brain was moving at a mile a minute. While trying to be quiet and simultaneously losing your head in the process, a smirk slides across Ashton’s face. He picks up on the signs, he notices your movements on his lap becoming more and more frenzied.

You knew you were close. He knew you were close.

Oh, of course he fucking did. He knew you like the back of his hand.

"Ash, I’m close… Please—" You begged empty pleas, finding stability with your hands clasped around his neck as you jerk forward with that fluttering feeling.

"I feel it comin’. Bein’ so— so good… C’mon— give it to me."

His two fingers thrust in and out of you while a third circled your clit. You wanted to scream, but he told you to be quiet. You wanted to kiss him, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from the purely concentrated, almost sadistic look in his eyes.

"That’s my girl… that’s my fuckin’ girl…"

The sounds of your wetness boom through your head along with the sounds of his praise, slowly meshing into a garish ringing in your ear. The butterflies once encased in the pit of your stomach had set free, fluttering along your body as Ashton’s rhythmic fingers come to a slowdown.

"Fuck!" You cry out, as your body collapses into his chest.

You could feel his ribcage shake with laughter, as he takes that free hand of his to rub your back. Your head is tossed over his shoulder as you manage your breathing.

"…Is that all you’ve got in you tonight?"

You could barely hear his voice over the ringing in your ears, as you heave like this was the last breath you’d ever take. He then removes his fingers from inside of you, causing you to jolt, still sensitive from the electricity coursing through your veins just moments before.

"N—no…" You stutter into his neck.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

Your head was still spinning while you tried to cool down. The temperature of your bodies entwined was like a hot stovetop, setting your skin ablaze. But you couldn’t find it in you to lift yourself up from the crook of his shoulder.

You liked it there. It was comfortable. It felt natural.

After a few moments of silence and messy breathing, you lift your head up.

"All good now?" He asks, running a hand down your waist.

"I think so... Almost knocked me out with that one Ash, not gonna lie."

All he does is laugh, before hovering the two fingers he had used to unravel you with in front of the both of your faces.

"See this?" He examines his fingers, still glistening with your secretions, "Is this what I do to you?"

Your jaw falls open slightly, "Wh—"

He takes a moment to think to himself, pushing his lips to the side while you just watched in complete awe.

"…I wonder if my honey girl tastes as sweet as she looks?"

You don’t even have a moment to blink before he takes those two fingers into his mouth. He sucks whatever’s left of you off of his digits, before pulling them out with a pop.

"Mmm," he hums, "Just as I’d imagined… Sweet as fuckin’ honey"

Something inside of you snaps, and you’re suddenly reattaching your lips to his. He moans into you, taken aback by your actions with his hands fumbling to grab your ass and grind you down into him.

"I need— I need you…" You mumble into his lips, not long before he juts his tongue out to run it across your bottom lip.

His stubble scratches against your palms as you grab ahold of his face, trying to ease him into you as if it were even humanly possible to get him any closer.

"Need me t’fuck you, honey? You— you want me that badly?" He asks quickly, sounding out of breath already from the sheer friction of your hips grinding against him. You nod rapidly, and he dips down to kiss your neck to let you know that he heard you loud and clear.

“Please, Ash…" You couldn’t help it, your mind was still reeling, "I need to feel you—"

Your words come out airy and forced, like somebody was squeezing them out of you. But you couldn’t stop yourself no matter how hard you bit down your tongue.

"...Fuck me like I’m worthless… Fuck me like I mean nothing to you at all…"

His head pops up from the crook of your neck, a sardonic look in his eye.

"Say that again for me?"

"…Fuck me like I mean nothing to you, Ashton. Fuck me like I mean nothing at all.”

You couldn’t describe the way his face changed. The way it morphed into something that you weren’t at all used to. It wasn’t sarcastic, no. It wasn’t the usual cheeky grin, either.

You were afraid that you had just dug your grave even deeper this time.

"Stand up." He demands shortly, which brings goosebumps across your arms.

"Stand up?" You repeat, like a goddamn lovesick puppy.

"Stand the fuck up, Y/N."

You do as you’re told, wearily, lifting yourself off of him and rising to your feet. You watch in anticipation, crossing your arms over your chest as he remains sitting.

The dynamic between you two had shifted drastically. It was clear that Ashton was still in charge, only this time, it felt absolutely terrifying.

You wished you hadn’t said anything at all. You wished he had just let you ride him, as you were planning to do. But your emotions gotten the best of you. The thought of caring for him so deeply had actually brought you to spiral out of control.

What you had been longing for, all this time, was about to come true.

With that, you planned to do everything you were told. Each and every single order barked at you was to be followed. You wanted to see what it felt like. What it felt like to feel nothing for a change.

"Walk to the balcony." Another demand. You hesitate, still dealing with a subconscious battle of self. Your heart and brain were going at it like two bulls in the ring.

"Are you— are you gonna come with me?" You find your gaze glued to the patio, feeling as small and as meek as ever.

"Meh, I’ll make my way over eventually."

Fair enough.

You walk over towards the balcony; left only in your thin, grey CREW v-neck and a pair of frilly, sage green underwear.

The fact that Ashton didn’t comment on the color of them made you feel a bit discouraged. Green was his favorite color, after all. You at least thought he’d take a moment to appreciate it.

God knows that moment won’t be happening now.

You start to near the glass railing that surrounded the rooftop. But despite your back being turned, you could completely feel his eyes searing bullet holes into your flesh. A chill ran down your spine, uncomfortable with the feeling of being watched, yet enjoying the fact that it was by him.

"Keep walking."

You were getting so close to the glass that it actually started to feel cold, despite the lingering August air.

You also weren’t sure where his head was at. Him having you walk towards the balcony that was completely out-turned and visible to the street below almost felt like he was trying to humiliate you.

But that feeling was quickly washed away when you felt his footsteps behind you.

"You have any idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into, honey?” He inches close to you, close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating onto your back yet still too far away to touch you.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “No… I-I don’t think so…"

You were telling the truth. No, Ashton, you had not a clue what you had just gotten yourself into. The absolute wormhole that you had just unlocked for yourself.

A new way to feel about things. A new way to feel about him.

Another wave of chills runs down your back as he takes the back of his hand and runs it down your shoulder. You wince, wanting nothing more than to turn around and kiss him.

"I didn’t think you had it in you."

"What?" Your voice comes out high pitched. Almost… nervous.

"To order me around like that. To finally buck up n’ tell me how to have my way with ya’… It’s honestly— kind of impressive."

His hand strokes down your arm once again, but this time, you just sigh.

He thinks this is just roleplay.

Little did he know that all of this nagging and bossiness had come from the truest, most integral parts of your soul and your longing to forget about the way your heart beats for him.

"You think so?" You try to gain back your sparkle with a witty reply, "How else can I impress you, Ash?"

All of these words exchanged between you two were said facing away from one another. You hadn’t the energy to care, nor the energy to make this anymore meaningful than it was, or was not, supposed to be.

You’ve finally decided to let go.

"Well, you can start by bending over." He snaps back. He’s always been so quick with his words.

To follow your mantra from before, you do as you’re told, bending over slightly and exposing your bare asscheeks to him. You lean your arms over the glass railing, your wrists going limp in doing so.

"’Like the view?" You ask, sparing him a glance over your shoulder in hopes to get a little more of a rise out of him.

"The view won’t mean much while I’m using you, honey."

Your face grows pale, a rush of static that felt like pinpricks crawls across your body. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ashton.

The excitement and rush of it all is now, finally, catching up to you. You were about to have meaningless sex with the person that means the most. In a way, it did feel like roleplay.

Except your role was pretending like you didn’t give a fuck about him.

"Gimme’ your wrist." You hear Ashton bark another command from behind you, along with the shuffling of fabric. Before you could even offer your wrist to him, he’s taking it upon himself to reach up and grab it.

He swiftly pins one of your arms behind your back, making you gasp and teeter on your feet.

"Ashton…" You try to say, but are immediately silenced by his other hand hooking a finger to the waistline of your panties.

"Don’t say another word, Y/N. You’re in no position to talk right now."

Your breath gets caught in your throat, now with your one free hand anchored to the railing. It was all a waiting game, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely turned on by him and his newfound unpredictability.

"I have a job for you." His voice rings in your ears, as he bends down above you to be parallel to your curved back. "…Think you could follow some orders f’me? Just for tonight?"

Just for tonight, you thought. Just for tonight.

You nod at his question. It was the only thing you were capable of doing, anyway.

"You’re gonna take my cock… But I don’t wanna hear a peep from that dirty mouth of yours. One fuckin’ sound and I swear… I’ll send you back downstairs with mascara running down your face and nothin’ to fuckin’ show for it."

You nod again. You were a nodding, blubbering mess.

"Think you could do that for me? Think you could be good enough for me to let you cum again?"

You nod, once again.

"And you told me what you wanted, right? Told me loud and clear how you wanted me to treat you? Out here— where there’s a small chance somebody could walk in on this?"

His pelvis presses against you as he taunts, and you’re left feeling even weaker in the knees.

This time, it wasn’t a nod. It was more of a sob.

"Good, good to know…" He softens his tone, lips now centimeters away from your ear.

"…Now bend the fuck over n’ let me use you like you’re nothing."

In a flash of vibrant colors swirling around the backs of your eyelids, you feel Ashton push your panties aside. He runs two fingers up your damp slit, bringing your face to a pinch.

You were still so sensitive after letting him have his way with you the first time. But you couldn’t fathom going another minute without the feeling of him buried inside of you.

"Please—" You whisper, but only to yourself.

You didn’t want to know what he’d do if he’d heard it.

His next movements were methodical, and slow, like he was a puppeteer playing with your strings. His hands dance along the sides of your hips, moving up to rub the small of your back.

He puffs out a breath, seemingly taking you in from behind.

"You're a fuckin' vision, Y/N... It's too bad you don't want me to treat you that way."

His ceaseless taunting was making your vision go shaky.

But you needed to keep reminding yourself... you fucking asked for it.

"Gonna let me use you, honey? Like my own personal doll... that I can toss around n' rough up... Mmm, 'bet you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Ashton..." You can help but let his name tumble from your lips. But in a flash, his hand is cracking down on your bare asscheek, creating a loud clap that you swore could be heard for miles. You let out a yelp, but quickly clamp your lips shut.

Your skin burns from the contact, your mouth going bone dry.

"What did I fucking say about that mouth of yours, Y/N? Not a fucking peep."

As he guides himself up and down your slit, collecting your juices on his leaky tip, you choke back the tears in your eyes. You still wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him, which was just a damned thing.

"So wet f'me... God, I'm in heaven."

It was almost as if each string of sentences that came out of his mouth were traveling in through one ear and right out of the other. I suppose this was your karma for being so demanding.

But this is what you wanted, wasn't it? Even though Ashton's means of 'fucking you like you're worthless' still came with bouts of praise, he couldn't help it. He was only human. Testing the waters for the both of you.

Roleplay.

He traces one last drag along your folds, pushing your panties aside with his tip before suddenly slamming himself into you. You gasp at the sudden feeling of him, your body lurching forward towards the railing as his grip on your wrist grows tighter.

"Jesus fuck—." He groans through bated breath before starting his rhythm of pounding into you.

It starts off slowly. The feeling of him filling you up as your walls clench around him must've felt like heaven to the both of you, for he let out a long, dreamy sigh. The hand that was once toying with the hemline of your lacy panties was now planted on the small of your back, using you as leverage as he slammed his cock deeper with each stroke.

Ashton hums, the sounds of slapping skin now engulfing the air around you. "Fuckin' love this pussy... Like it was fuckin' made for me..."

The air in your lungs started to dissipate, practically leaving you begging for mercy at his expense. Your body jolted with each of his deep thrusts, still trying to stay quiet and do exactly as he had demanded of you.

His grip on your wrist had begun to feel raw, surely to leave you with some kind of marking, reinstating the absolute chokehold he has on you.

"Ash..." You whisper again, as he's grunting and whining from behind you.

"Whose fuckin' pussy is this? Whose fuckin' pussy is this?" He asks the question and you whimper, unable to gather any syllable of a sentence on your tongue.

Suddenly, he releases your wrist, picking up his rhythm of fucking into you. Your arm drops to your side like a ragdoll, as you scramble to balance it next to your other on the railing.

The hand of his that once held your wrist captive had traveled down to meet his other, gripping your waist and digging his blistered fingertips into your flesh.

"Fuck... fuckin' shit, Y/N... Takin' my cock so well..."

Using his hands anchored to your waist, he starts to pull you into him, slamming your hips into his pelvic bone and hitting that sweet spot with every. Single. Stroke.

"Fuck, you’re heavenly…. My sweet, sweet girl…"

At this point in time, you could care less about the semantics of this all.

Although the point of this was for Ashton to have his way with you without a single feeling attached, it seemed as though he couldn’t really help it. He was a blubbering mess of compliments and praise, a true gentleman through and through.

But that was something to think about while you lay awake in bed tonight.

For now, you just decided to live in the moment.

Ashton’s rhythm had grown sloppy. He was awfully close to making you finish for a second time, with each buck of his hips— meanwhile it was taking every last bit of your consciousness to keep yourself quiet. The pit of your stomach squeezed with each primal sound that fell from his plush lips.

"M’gonna cum soon, honey… ‘Gonna fill you up, yeah? Would you like that? Want me t’fill you up?"

Unsure of whether or not to verbalize your consent, you nod. Like a bobble-head on a broken spring.

"That’s my girl. That’s— my fuckin’ girl.”

Despite Ashton’s imminent orgasm, you could only think about two words.

My girl. My girl. My girl

They were flashing around your mind like the billboards in the Manhattan streets below. Each thought of those two words produced vibrant colors behind your eyelids, stars now fogging up the blackness as he slams into you a few more times.

"Gonna' cum, honey... G-Gonna' fill you up, m'kay? Fuck..."

With one final pound into you, the pulsing throbbing of his cock had come to a slowdown. You both let out a collective gasp, as the heat ignited between your bodies had meshed into a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Ashton collapses onto your back, the front half of his body slicked with sweat and pressing into you. Your breathing had begun to sync up collectively, only for him to pull out of you and make your entire body jolt.

"Fuck, Ashton."

You were finally able to speak again. You had gotten your words back, as well as your confidence. And the feeling of his presence behind you was all you needed to get you there.

He huffs, finally lifting himself off of you. But you lag behind, taking a moment to collect your breathing as he pulls his sweatpants up.

"Jesus Christ, honey. You're a goddamn dream." He chuckles, stepping back and allowing you the space to turn around.

And that you did. Finally faced with that dream he was on about.

Sweaty, messy curls glued and rearranged to his forehead. Glossy, hooded, fucked-out eyes. The fabric of his Hawaiian shirt soaked with the mixing of your sweat and his.

He looked obscene. He looked ethereal. You wanted to tell him how absolutely picturesque he was in that moment. You wanted to give him every gorgeous compliment you could think of.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

So you said this instead.

"...It'd be a dream if you could grab my jeans."

"Don’t be impolite, Y/N. What's the magic word?" He teases, motioning towards your jeans that had been discarded in a pile on the patio.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk, tough guy? After you just fucked the goddamn life out of me?"

He shrugs, "I wouldn't say I fucked the life out of you... If that was the case, you wouldn't be standing upright."

You huff, frustrated, but loving every second of it.

"Just– grab me my damn jeans, Irwin."

He does as he's told, begrudgingly walking the short few feet to grab your jeans as you stand, cross-legged, bare-assed, with your back against the glass.

"Your majesty," he bows, holding your pants out on his arm like a knight with your crown.

"Thank you."

As you put on your jeans, Ashton watches you. With those whiskey, honeypot eyes. Scanning down every inch of you as you put one leg in, then the other.

"If it were up to me, I'd send you back down pants-less."

"Yeah, right." You scoff, reverting back to your old ways of a thumping heart and a pain in your chest, "You know how much trouble I'd be in?"

"Trouble by who? I'm your boss, aren't I?"

You puff, pulling up the zipper of your jeans, "You don't act like it."

"Want me to start then?" He quips.

"...No. Absolutely not."

Ashton tosses you a smile, not long before he's holding out his arms.

"That's what I thought, honey," he motions for you with his hands, "Now c'mere."

Without even thinking, almost as if it were rehearsed, you spin around, falling backwards into his arms. He wraps himself around you, broad biceps squeezing your shoulders like a butterfly in its' cocoon.

The Manhattan night sky was twinkling with lights and stars. You stare out into it, and he does too.

As you stand cradled in his arms with the lingering of pitiful, degrading sex still in the air, you sat in your thoughts for a moment.

What happened tonight couldn’t have been a mistake. You had been speaking it into existence for so long, that it finally became a reality. From the way he so passionately kissed you, to the way he so effortlessly dropped everything to fuck you like you were worthless. Just like you had asked. Just liked you had intended.

But you knew, despite everything that happened tonight, that not a single thing would change. 

Your heart would still flutter out of your ribcage whenever he walked by. You’d still answer his calls late at night, or spare him passing glances in the concert halls.

You’d still come to meet him, no matter when or where. All with that same, God awful weight on your chest.

It all made you feel terrible. Everything about him made you feel terrible.

But you were willing to get used to that feeling.

To be completely honest with yourself…

You kind of liked it. 

It felt like being in love

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

[lamentofabramo]

Can I get an NSFW alphabet for Tobias Rogers (ticci toby) 🫶

I've been doing a bigger piece, so I might as well do something smaller like this since it's been a good while since I've posted now. (oops)

I'm basing this less on the fandom vers of him, hopefully.

Didn't proofread this much. (edit: I feel bad that I didn't acknowledge the heart, so <3 of course you can doll)

MINORS DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Toby obviously is one of the more caring of the creepypasta's, of course that's a low bar, but he is considerably more human than some of them. He's still gruff and fairly untalkative after the deed, yet he'd offer some water before leaving if you were just a one-off/ casual fuck.

If you were his partner however, I'd imagine he'd be more caring, still untalkative and unaffectionate, but maybe he'd hold you or hold your hand in this. Of course, he'd blame this on being unable to properly feel what he's holding, but the slow decrease in his twitches as he holds you speaks a lot more than he ever will. He's not comfortable, but he feels slightly less stress in your presence, at least until he has to leave, his mind penetrated by the voice of the foreboding presence of the ever-taller man.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) His own favourite body part would probably be his arms, he was a scrawny kid for most of his life, but you sure would start gaining muscle if you swung your axe at people who you considered worthy of it. There's probably also some scars across his arms that remind him of his life before. Of course, he'd hate that idea, but he still has some attachment to his sister, his mother, no matter how hard he may try to push it out of his head.

For his favourite part of his partners, I feel like it'd most likely be your waist. It's something for him to grab, to hold onto to remember you're real, that you're still alive against his better judgement.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) If you asked for it in a specific place, sure he'd do it if he was in a good mood. On your chest, ass, inside even. He'd risk it, he had nothing to truly lose anyway. But his favourite place would most likely be on your stomach, just the wet streaks across your stomach would do things for him. He's not sure why either, he wouldn't register that he does that almost every time unless you pointed it out to him.

If you did, he'd probably consider why for a second, his eyes widening in realization before shrugging. "Any better ideas?" he'd mumble, absently listening as he stroked himself. Toby would listen if you told him anywhere else, but… his eyes focused on that smooth surface.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) He secretly wants to push the boundaries of his condition. He wants your hands around his neck, trying to choke him until it hurt. It was strange really, he had a high pain tolerance, yet he craved this pain. Maybe it was because he wanted to be normal, maybe not. He didn't want to think too hard on it, like many other things he just shrugged at the idea and continued with his life.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?) Toby was definitely not an experienced guy, even before the accident where he finally became 'free' (If you could say being slenderman's lackey was free) the most he'd done was hold hands with a girl in primary school.

He wouldn't be insecure with it however, he never viewed himself as a sexual being, the most he'd ever fucked was his fist on particularly rough nights. Sure, he'd had crushes on women, but when you become a serial killer you go one of two ways. A sex maniac or a complete recluse. Unfortunately, Toby became the latter.

However, since he had a less than regular childhood, he was never able to go through the same sexual awakenings as many of his peers. Instead, that most likely came later, so when he met you he was awkward, like a teenage boy. Most of his language is through grumbles and grunts anyway.

When he realized you were stuck in his head it all changed though, his sex drive increased massively. His poor hand.

F = Favourite position (this goes without saying) Cowgirl probably rocks his world, he loves that intense eye contact that comes with it. The way he looks up at you through his fringe, his mouth slightly open as he pants and grunts, is a reward in itself. However, he would get impatient, his hips thrusting up to meet yours or his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you down further on his cock.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) If something was funny to him, then he'd smirk, like if you hid your body from him even though he was about to be deep inside of you.

When he gets further into the activity, he'd let out breathless laughs, sometimes blaming that on his tics. He couldn't help it, though, he loved the way you responded to him.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) Toby probably doesn't care much about how groomed he is, sometimes he'll shave, but other than that he's got whatever going on.

He has a small happy-trail up to his belly button though, it shows when he raises his axe too high. It's a dark brown colour, just like his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect) He's probably not particularly intimate, maybe some words here or there if he feels like it, but don't overestimate him too much. He probably came inside you before he kissed you.

His cheeks pinken slightly whenever you suggest kissing, but he quickly slouches and looks away with an almost childish pout to pretend as though he doesn't care.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) Like I said in the earlier one, sure he jacked off every now and again, but it was more so a way to pass the time, to get some serotonin in his ever-pleasant life. But when he gets fixated on something, or rather in your case, someone, his sex drive spikes. He wants you in his hands, in his vice, it frustrates him, so he takes this frustration out on himself.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) He's probably degrading, mixed with praise. He's basically up for anything. He's killed someone, I'm sure a weird kink won't kill him.

However, if he does think your kinks are unusual he will take the piss out of you for it, teasing, but he still takes part in it. Its fun.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do) Wherever you want, he's not arsed, really. Against a tree sounds the most fun.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) As cheesy as this sounds, you. Maybe some aggression on your side would get him going too, that mouth of yours was lethal sometimes.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs) Like I said before, he's practically up for anything. He might not be physically aggressive for you too much, though, it'd remind him of his past.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.) He's a munch, if he's in the mood enough, he could probably cum from giving you head. He'd deny that though, God that'd be embarrassing.

Not only that, but he'd receive too, no doubt, Toby would find it fun to just gently tug your head up and down on his cock.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.) Toby would probably be slow but deep if he's teasing you. But if he's just fucking you, then it'd be fast, his hands pulling you down on his cock with faster speed.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.) Hell yeah brother. Just give him the words, he might tease you for it, but he'd never say no (unless he's in a more depressive mood).

He'd love to fuck you in the back of his car too, or masky's car. Just for the hell of it.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.) He's a risky guy, but surprisingly, he wouldn't do anything that could get him potentially caught by the law. He's on the run for a reason, he's not willing to risk his freedom for a good fuck (sometimes).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?) He'd probably like to overstimulate slightly, 2/3 rounds before he's clocked out and completely dry. He'd last an average enough time, 20 minutes normally.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?) Seeing your body twitch with something that isn't him would make him jealous. However, a little vibrator never hurt anyone. He'd tease you if you had any dildos or anything, though, asking pettily if he "wasn't enough" or that you were "stretching yourself out" for him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) Big tease, but he always fulfils your wants. It may take a while, though.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.) The only noise he really makes is grunting and whispers on how dirty you are. He's loud enough that you can hear him, but not loud enough for it to be a full-blown moan.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character) He does want to see how you'd look crying for him all bloodied up, most likely someone else's blood, but he's not picky. Maybe fucking you on top of a recently deceased.

But he'd never admit that.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes) An average to slightly bigger man, About 6.4 inches. Probably measured it one time when he was bored, and he hung onto the .4 for his ego.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?) Not too high unless you exist, then…as much as he can get his hands on you.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) He doesn't sleep much after it, doesn't feel comfortable sleeping in front of others, even someone like you. His nightmares don't help.

[willowthegrey2]

First

Larissa Weems x Original Female Character

Note:

So it's been *checks notes* two years and a bit since I last posted a fic. That's about right for me. Anyway, quick disclaimer, Serena Talon is my OC for Larissa fics so far. This story isn't canonically related to Hope in a New World, but Serena looks the same and has pretty much the same personality. I'm just much too lazy to create a new one right now (oops). I was inspired to write a slightly more angsty hurt/comfort fic for Larissa so let's see how good I am at that. Enjoy!

I don't own anything except for the characters.

Chapter 1

She met Morticia when she first moved into her dorm. She had 3 suitcases of just clothing and the rest were boxes of books, study supplies, and magazines. Morticia snorted with amusement as Larissa carefully unpacked her clothes first and everything that followed suit was elegant, beautiful, and ornate, right down to her bedsheets. Morticia introduced herself with a quiet confidence. The type teenagers longed to master without really trying. Despite it all, Larissa stuck to her like glue, signing up for the same classes Morticia would take, sitting at her table in the cafeteria, putting her name on the signup sheet for clubs with her. Morticia was always there when everyone else’s company was fleeting. 

Larissa Weems went through so many emotions in her teenage years at Nevermore, especially in regards to Morticia Addams.

She admired her when Morticia seemed to know the answers to every question in class. When she would fence better than those boys who wouldn’t give the girls a second glance in phys-ed. When her assignments were used as examples in class. How she got her eyeliner straight on the first swipe and identical on the other eye. How she always knew what to wear that day and never seemed to run out of clothing or ways to style it.

She hated her when Morticia would say something in passing to her that was supposed to help. ‘Oh Larissa, you know we’re just going to the mall with the girls. You don’t need all that on.’ When Larissa would overthink every single item of clothing on her body in hopes that Morticia would approve of her outfit and still, Morticia would always have something to point out that would make Larissa’s fragile self-esteem deflate further. When she asked Morticia to study with her, Morticia would be able to focus and understand everything while Larissa was fiddling with her pen and re-reading the same paragraph for the third time. It didn’t matter that she got A’s because Morticia got the same grade with her own flair.

She envied her when Morticia effortlessly captured the attention of everyone around her. They would laugh at her jokes, compliment her looks, ask her to hang out. When Morticia didn’t seem to second-guess every sentence out of her own mouth, every expression shown on her face. No overthinking, no anxiety about who she was. Morticia was just… Morticia.

She loved her when Morticia told her that she wanted her as her fencing partner, to be her co-pilot for the Poe cup, to go shopping with her for a Rave’n dress.

She’d shiver with humiliation when she thought of it now but Larissa tried shapeshifting to look more like her when she was younger. The school was massive and nobody seemed to notice whether or not Larissa was there anyway, so she’d become a different person and look just slightly like Morticia to see if anyone treated her like that. Like she was divine.

Black hair. Brown hair. Hair down. Hair straight. Hair curly. Black dress. Shorter height. Longer legs. Longer torso. Larger breasts. Smaller breasts. Long nails. Short nails. More makeup. Less makeup.

Well, it wasn’t Morticia’s looks or clothes or voice that made her the school’s version of God’s gift to earth. She was charismatic. She was confident. She was unique and individual but in just the right way so that most people loved her and those who didn’t were looked down on.

The only ‘benefit’ – if one could call it that – that Larissa got while shapeshifted was hearing what people really thought about her.

‘You know, the tall chick? Always dresses like she’s trying too hard.”

‘That’s half the girls in the school.’

‘Girls hit puberty first, right? Whatever. I mean the girl who’s always with Morticia.’

Oh, the blonde? Yeah. You think that’s her real hair colour?’

‘Who cares? She’s a shapeshifter, every hair colour is natural for her.’

‘True.’

‘But if I told her to shapeshift into like… Marilyn Monroe or something, would she?’

‘Why Marilyn Monroe? Can’t think of a more modern reference?’

‘I could but I don’t think she’d understand it the way she talks about those black and white movies as if they’re not incredibly boring. Plus, Marilyn Monroe is hot. I bet I could even get her to do the voice. At least that way she’d be interesting or something. I can’t believe she thinks anyone cares about fashion or learning about the art history of paintings in the Louvre or whatever. Like, what are we? 70?’

‘She’ll probably have a cat to tell it to in the future.’

‘I give her 25 years.’

‘I give her 10.’

‘The tall chick.’ ‘The blonde.’ ‘The girl who’s always with Morticia.’ ‘The shapeshifter.’

Being principal didn’t really change that. It was the closest she got to someone acknowledging her, but it was within a professional capacity.

What she wouldn’t give for somebody to use her name, just once. To think of her. To see her, to notice her. To call for her. For her to be their first choice.

-

‘Good morning, Principal Weems.’ ‘Larissa, do you mind looking this over?’ ‘Hey, boss, when’s that report due again?’

They never asked her how she was, if she was all right. They didn’t care about her day or her weekend or even what she liked to drink. Did she radiate some sort of insecurity? Insincerity? Arrogance? Were they just intimidated because she was their boss?

For 25 years she worked at Nevermore. Almost 30 had she lived in its halls. She spent less time in a house of her own than she did at the school. Her social life consisted of her colleagues, people in town she was more or less forced to associate with, and the occasional outing she would get from a moment of weakness on dating apps. They rarely went well. The longest relationship she had lasted three months in university before she swiftly broke it off.

She could count the number of times she had sex on her hands. She didn’t even know what constituted sex anymore. Penetration? Once or twice. Heavy petting? A few times. Having an orgasm with a partner? Never.

It was easier to just not think about such things. She loved her job, as difficult as it was. She almost died and when she woke up in the hospital, the only people there to greet her were nurses, a doctor, and a couple of cops. She’d never felt so alone, so scared at the idea that she would have to heal alone, leave the hospital alone, go home alone. She cried when they left, so much so that she got a headache from the dehydration that felt comparable to a hangover.

In Jericho, barely anything had changed. Normie-outcast relationships continued as normal, strained and shrouded in distrust. Colleagues came and went, students graduated or dropped out. Hardly anyone died anymore though, thank goodness. Wednesday seemed to have calmed her morbid curiosity for the time being.

The librarian has retired. Larissa is hardly surprised, the only person who has been there longer than her is Ms. Bennett. A sonokinetic, rather good at keeping the library quiet. None of the students enter anyway, but the few who do practically have their voice ripped from them. It sounds more violent than it is, but Ms. Bennett always reasoned that until one checked the book out, they had no reason to make noise.

Still, nobody said her name.

-

Larissa is quick to hire a new librarian. Serena Talon. Pronounced ‘Tay-lon’, so the young woman has informed her. Telekinetic. Good for stocking books back on shelves, she supposes.

Twenty-six years teaching at Nevermore and for the first time, one of her colleagues walks up to her at the end of the first week of school and says; “Good evening, Principal Weems. I was wondering if you would like to get something to eat with me.”

Larissa accepts in the same quiet, polite way she always speaks but her heart does a gymnastics routine in her ribcage. She doesn’t know what this is for. To discuss business? To suck up to her? To ask for a raise? As presumptuous as it may be, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

Or maybe, perhaps, possibly, someone perchance wants her company.

----------

Note:

High school is freaking rough, okay? Except for Morticia. She did fine. Wait... she did kill a guy... yeah, never mind. Thanks for reading!😊

[ourpickwickclub]

Thanks for letting me know my super-long ask from almost 2 weeks ago didn't post. So apparently Tumblr has a 4096 character limit on asks and my ask was almost 30,000 characters - oops, lol. How did it even get through to you guys in the first place?! I mean, I am glad it did, but too bad it wouldn't post. I am going to try and break up the post into parts somehow, although it might take me a while to deconstruct the different parts into separate coherent asks - separating the Chronology Guide for the interview recording dates to correspond with the actual interview quotes - it was so much better as one long ask, oh well.

ps: HOW CUTE WAS B'S INTRO FOR G AT THE AMAs???? Thanks to @reneedebruin for recording for us so we can watch G winning her AMA back in 2005 and then see the proud look on B's face/intro right after on repeat!!! If anyone wants to watch the whole vid of G winning, search "Gwen Stefani Wins Pop/Rock Female - AMA 2005" on YT. So cute and classic G. Thanks to @shefanispeculator for always posting the oldies, but goodies!!!

pps: I really want a MV for Swallow My Tears, especially after what G said about it in her cute little bts on Tiktok.

Ok, here's the first part of the original ask with the usual random ramblings/stats so the future posts will just have the juicy stuff:

Hey fellow Shefani lovers! I hope you are all having a great day/night, wherever you are!

I still can't get over the fact that Hangin' On hit a million streams on Spotify faster than Texas did, WITHOUT a MV, or any Texas-level promo/performances/interviews at all - just imagine the potential if there was a MV and promo - also guys, do you remember when the NBY MV got 3 million views the first day, and then 1 million views a day every day for the first week, and then 1 million views every week for the next 7 months, and up until a couple months ago, it was still getting about a million views every single month for the last 4 years?! That's my next wish, besides just MORE SHEFANI duets (always!!!), but for another Shefani duet or Shefani-related song, like AOML, to reach the level of NBY. So much fun to track and enjoy all the performances, press, and stats that come with it, like:

"NBY hits #1 on the Billboard Digital Song Sales chart with 30,000 COPIES SOLD IN ITS 1ST WEEK!"

"NBY notches NINE weeks in the Top 10 Billboard Digital Song Sales!"

"NBY is the 8th best-selling song of 2020 in ALL GENRES, with 288,000 copies sold!"

and other fun stuff like that, lol.

Also, in less than 2 months, if my calculations are correct, there is going to be a very significant milestone achieved that I think anyone who is a Shefani fan will be VERY happy about. I'll try to remember to post about it when it happens, but I'm sure others will see it happen and post too.

I just wanted to stop by and share all the Shefani quotes I saved from B's most recent FRUO press cycle. Yes, I have watched/listened to every interview at least 10 times, lol, and yes, I listened to my favorite Shefani parts like 100 times, lmao. (Also, please ignore my awful punctuation and formatting, lol, i get way too excited when I'm typing and to stop and fix everything is blah.)

I am going to list them in chronological order from when they were recorded/filmed, and not when they were released (which is never the same order), because I just really like to know WHEN the interviews were conducted, especially when B is giving us precious nuggets of information about UPCOMING SHEFANI DUETS like when he says one new Shefani duet recorded (4/2/2025 and 4/14/2025) vs SEVERAL DUETS recorded (4/25/2025) vs A LOT OF IT HASN'T COME OUT YET (5/6/2025) dfsdfkjdhfkdf

Note: Ok, and here is where there was a Chronology Guide with the evidence for when every interview was recorded/filmed, and then after that, I listed all the quotes under each date. It looks like it might end up being 6 or 7 parts and apparently I am almost at 4096 characters already so I better stop here and I'll try to post the next part soon. btw, I found out you can use quillbot to count your characters, lmao.

.

[buggyboba]

kiss my eyes and lay me to sleep.

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𝔸𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 ℕ𝕠𝕥𝕖

↳ ▣ | hiii besties, so in my mind this is a whole three-part thing, oops. a prologue, this, then an epilogue. I mean that is if people want it, or just enjoy it as its own thing! This is a request that took on a life of its own in my head, just like one of the other requests did, so there is that. we are also trying a few new post set up styles, so do we like this? or is it more like Buggy shut up and write vibes?

ℙ𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | Missy x Reader

𝕊𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪

↳ ▣ | Anon asked | I would like to please request a Missy x reader (I'm not sure if you have seen the Agent Carter show but if you haven't I'll let you know why I asked. One of the gadgets that Peggy has is a lipstick, which when she kisses someone that person falls asleep.) Where the reader has been separated from the Doctor and comes across missy but doesn't know who she is and so when the time comes for missy to escape she wants to take the reader with her so she uses that same idea with the lipstick to make the reader sleep so they can capture the reader and leave their real identity as a surprise.

So this is in which Missy kidnaps reader using a sleeping toxin.

𝕋𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕘𝕖𝕣 𝕎𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘

↳ ▣ | no real tws, Missy being Missy.

𝕎𝕠𝕣𝕕 ℂ𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥

↳ ▣ | 3500

𝔸𝕠𝟛 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜

↳ ▣ | x

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This place gave you the proper creeps; you almost clung to Clara as you walked past a vat with a skeleton in it. The three W's—that’s where the Tardis brought them to find Danny. Oh Danny, Clara had gone through lengths, You understood her grief, and you were grateful for The Doctor's grace because the events that happened just a few moments ago were startling, but you couldn't say you blamed her. She loved Danny. Well, it felt like she loved him anyway; she certainly cared for him deeply. She didn't deserve his untimely death; you wanted your friend to be happy; she deserved to be happy. This felt very private—it should have been private—between her and The Doctor; you just happened to be there. Well, that made you sound like you were a stray that showed up; you had been a companion for a while now, off and on, but you saw three of his faces now, the lanky brown-haired one, that said 'Allonsy'; he was the one you met in the beginning. The very next adventure you went on had been not great, but the more you tried to think about it, the less you could understand of it, like there was a large part torn from your memory, but he wouldn’t tell you what it was, and it was probably for the best. Then there was the bow-tie-wearing one; he was tired but pretended to be fine; he had anger; sometimes it scared you, but he was still The Doctor, your Doctor. During this time, you started to be an off-and-on companion. This new face was grouchy and started to reflect the years he carried with him, one that had the same burdens: lonely, scared to lose those who he cared about.

You were the last to step out of the tardis; the stonework was impressive, but the air was cold. You wrapped your jacket tighter around you as you followed after Clara and The Doctor. Things felt tense and odd, but you chose to use the 'seen not heard’ method right now. Clara was hurting, and people did things they normally wouldn’t when they were grieving, but her whole ‘throwing the keys into a volcano’ thing. Then again, the doctor did tell her he was exactly what she deserved; you wondered what that meant but chose not to question it right now; it wasn’t the right time. 

As you walked, your eyes caught on each and every skeleton you passed. You were beginning to worry you would find his skeleton in a vat; what would that do to Clara? Clara could handle it, you were sure, but that didn't mean she should handle it. Grief was an odd thing. Your mind went back to the skeletons. How many were there? This was a horror show waiting to happen. Your shoes scuffed against the floor as you tried to be as close to Clara and the Doctor as you possibly could be, nearly running into the Doctor’s back when he stopped. A female voice spoke, and you assumed it was a recording. A bright logo with 3W was proudly shown.

“3W. Death is not an end. But we can help with that. Ever since 3W encountered the truth about the death experience, we have been working hard to find a better life for the deceased. At 3W, afterlife means aftercare.” The voice spoke in an oddly comforting tone. 

Clara shifted “Okay. Bit strange?” She spoke, and you shrugged. 

“Automated message maybe?” You voiced, your eyes on the skeleton behind you; you swore you saw it move, but that couldn't be right; it was just probably the water in the tank. You stared at it a few more moments than needed to make sure it was just your imagination.

“No, why have the scrolling and a voice? Is it difficult?” He asked like he knew something they didn’t. Both Clara and you looked at him, but Clara spoke first.

“Is what difficult?” She asked, and you nodded, seeing what he was going to say. 

“Reading all those words back to front. Come on. We've come a long way.” He said to the logo projection. A woman walked out through the logo, which disappeared. She was taller than you, wearing a deep purple Victorian-style dress, very much like a governess would wear, and a hat with decorative red berries placed carefully on her head. Her eyes trailed over you in a sort of calculating look, like you were a surprise addition, but it smoothed over, and she looked over to the doctor, assessing him.

“Well, there is, er, no immediate hurry. We're just, er. We're just–” The Doctor struggled to find the words; his mind was racing, trying to place this woman. Her eyes returned to looking at him. Oh, how fun this was and would be for her. 

“Hello. I hope you're well. How may I assist you with your death?” The woman said she was looking between the three of you. You almost choked at the words and gave a nervous sort of giggle snort. A nervous tick—you couldn't recall how many times you ended up nervously laughing at the worst times. You couldn’t help it. When you felt threatened, you laughed that nervous laugh. You shifted and covered your mouth, looking down, trying to calm your nerves. This didn’t feel good. The woman's eyes flinted back to you; something that resembled a smirk tugged at her lips, as if she were remembering something and taking pleasure in your nervous tick.

“Browsing.” Clara quickly said, and you nodded in agreement. 

“Yeah, yeah, browsing.” The Doctor said, watching the woman with unease. The look made you uneasy too; if The Doctor was nervous, you knew you needed to be too. You shifted and watched the woman carefully; something felt off. Then again, the bones lurking in the tanks probably weren’t helping. 

“Please, take all the time you need. At 3W, you always have the rest of your life.” She chimed, looking between the three of you.

“Oh, good. That's good to know, isn't it?” He cast a look to You and Clara, who also exchanged looks. "This whole thing felt bad, but you just couldn’t place it; you weren’t scared of death or the afterlife, but something about this made every red flag in your mind go off.

“Yeah. Great.” Clara murmured, and you stayed silent. This energy felt familiar, like you had felt it before, but the more you tried to grasp at straws to figure it out, the further away it felt, something was definitely wrong. 

“Exactly what is 3W?” The Doctor asked, asking the necessary question. 

“Apologies. Clearly, you have not received the official 3W greetings package.” The woman said in a tsk.

“Well, you know, it's just an unexpected." The woman cut him off, lunging at him, her hands wrapped into the lapels of his jacket. She walked it back against the wall with her body, staying pressed against him. Her lips pressed against his, her tongue pressed into his mouth. The Doctor’s features flashed in shock and maybe perhaps a bit of fear. She pulled back, kissing the tip of his nose three times. She stepped back, giving him space.

“Welcome to the 3W Institute.” She grinned.

“Clara, is it over now?” The Doctor asked, his tone breathless as his hands stayed sprawled against the wall behind him, trying to mentally work through the event that just happened. You watched and lifted your hand to your mouth, partly in shock, partly trying not to laugh about his expression, though it was very clear he was uncomfortable, and that shouldn’t be funny. But there was something about this usually stoic man being thrown off, though you were sure you would feel the same if someone randomly kissed you.

“I think it's over, yeah.” Clara nodded, watching the woman intently. The woman looked at her, her blue eyes scanning over her, as if thinking of something.

“You also have not received the official welcome package.” She took a step towards her, and Clara quickly put her hands up and stepped back, shaking her head. “Oh, I'm good, thanks. No worries."

Then the woman turned to you and stalked closer; that was the right word for it because it felt like a panther stalking its prey. “You haven't received it either.” She gave a slight pout, and you quickly shook your head and backed up a bit, but she followed, her hands on your arms, her eyes locked on you; she got you against the wall, pressing against you as she looked at your lips leaning in before the doctor cleared his throat. The woman's face flashed with annoyance for a brief, blink and you miss it, moment. She slowly turned her face to face him, not moving from you. 

“Who are you?” He asked firmly. She smiled a little ‘she knew something he didn't’ smile. 

“I am Missy.” She said simply, finally stepping away from you. You exhaled your breath, one you hadn’t even realized you were holding. 

“Missy?” Clara asked. Your eyes were still locked on the woman, and your heart was thumping rapidly against your chest. 

“Mobile Intelligent Systems Interface. I am a multi-function, interactive welcome-droid. Helping you to help me to help you.” She playfully looked between the three of you. A welcome droid? No, she certainly felt real, and then again, you had met some very realistic robots in your time with The Doctor. 

“You're very– er– realistic.” The Doctor said. Did he catch on to that too? 

“Tongues?” Clara asked, masking a bit of a smirk.

“Shut up.” The Doctor muttered and shook his head, still uncomfortable about Missy’s actions. 

“I am fully programmed with social interaction norms appropriate to a range of visitors. Please indicate if you'd like me to adjust my intimacy setting.” Missy said, looking at him as he finally stepped away from the wall, before her eyes trailed back to you, looking you over in a way that felt not very robotic.

Missy scoffed and slighted her accent, putting her hands on her hips. “I am in charge.” 

“Oh, yes, please. Please do that. Do that now right now.” He said quickly, You also took a sort of sidestep back closer to Clara and The Doctor. “I need to speak to whoever's in charge here.” He said, clearly back on his game, trying to get to the bottom of this. 

“Well, who's in charge of you?” He asked quickly.

“I'm in charge of me!” She said, looking at him, saying it like it was apparent and he was being silly. 

“Well, who repairs you? Who, who maintains you?” He said he was getting tired of this game. 

“I am programmed for self-repair. I am maintained by my heart.” She said her hand was slipping down to grab his, lifting it to her chest and pressing his palm against it. “Is everything in order?” She locked eyes with him. You shifted; this felt too oddly intimate. Like this was someone who knew the doctor—the way the woman acted, the look the Doctor gave as his hand was on her chest. 

“Who maintains your heart?” He breathed out. His eyes locked with hers.  

“My heart is maintained by the Doctor.” She said it almost sweetly. This was getting too odd, and too quickly, the body language of both Missy and The Doctor worried you.

“Doctor who?” He asked, his voice tinged in something akin to nerves, which made you feel quite nervous again. 

There was a moment of silence before the woman yelled “Doctor Chang!” before she walked away from The Doctor, disappearing around the corner. 

“Who's there?” A man appeared quickly from a room, moving to walk over to them. “Hello?” he asked. 

“Hello.” Clara greeted, and you gave a weak sort of wave. You tried to push the feeling of danger down as you looked at the unassuming man. He was a stark difference from the welcome droid.

“Hello.” The Doctor muttered again; he seemed to be in a deep thought, his hand still in the air where Missy had been.

“You can probably take your hand down now, Doctor,” Clara said, and the Doctor slowly lowered his hand.

“So. Hey. Condolences.” The presumed Doctor Chang said, looking at the three of you. You blinked, but it was a nice sentiment, you thought anyway.

“Condolences?” Clara asked, looking at the man in confusion.

“It's a mausoleum. It's our hello. Is there a particular dead person you want to talk to?” He asked, trying to move the conversation along.

“Yes. Yes, there is.” Clara said quickly. Doctor Chang motioned, and then you all started to follow him, though you hung back. This felt like it should be a private moment for Clara; Danny is, er well, Danny was important to her. You knew if you were speaking to a dead loved one, you would want privacy. So as The Doctor and Clara vanished into the room, you decided to take a quick look around; if it was really a mausoleum, there wasn’t any reason for concern, right? You walked along the quiet hall; the soft sound of the bubbling water from the tanks provided very little ambiance to calm your nerves. Things still felt off, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. 

The skeletons felt like they were staring at you, but that couldn’t be right; it was just your nerves; at least that’s what you told yourself as you walked looking at the nameplates of the skeletons. It was wild to you that people would do this—to become glorified aquarium decorations. You imagined all the people who paid to spend the rest of their eternity in these vats; of course, this was no different from people being cremated or buried; it was just another method of burial, right? There were all sorts of new wave burial methods; you didn’t know about hanging out in a chair in water for the rest of time, though. You wondered how they kept the stability of the bones; if they cleaned the water, what was in the water to preserve the bones? 

You were so deep in thought you didn’t even hear the click of her heels, but you felt the air shift; it was colder, and suddenly there was a presence beside you. You turned and jumped nearly out of your skin. It was Missy. Her eyes scanned over you like a cat that had caught a mouse, and that didn’t feel great. 

“Have you turned your settings down?” You asked, eyeing her, trying to calm your rapidly beating heart. There was no way you should be this jumpy; you had to get it together. You faced way worse than a building full of spooky water skeletons and an off-putting welcome droid.

“What?” She paused looking at you before it seemed she realized something. “Oh right…yes…sure…” she shook her head a bit, chuckling a little bit to herself like there was a joke you missed.

“Not going to try and French me?” You asked, eyeing her. You shifted a bit, putting your hands in your jacket pockets as you watched her. Taking in her features, you wondered who she was modeled after; being a droid, with her high cheekbones, her pale skin, and those mesmerizing blue eyes, a lot of care went into making her. 

“Oh, maybe… I haven’t decided if I want to give you a second chance after you so rudely denied me.” She waved you off. “Wonderful, aren’t they?" She tapped the glass with her nails, transfixed by the skeleton for a moment before she looked at you, tilting her head. 

“You don’t act like a droid... I mean, then again, I wouldn’t know... but you felt  too...human." You decided; she scoffed and let out an annoyed snort.

“Human? Don’t be a bitch.” She shook her head, offended. “As if I were, you humans are too messy, too emotional, too weak.” She waved you off again. Your eyes narrowed, but you shrugged. Droids shouldn’t have that strong of an opinion, right? Or was that insensitive? Droids were AI, and AI could learn to feel right? You certainly didn’t want to anger the woman by thinking things like that. However, her reaction felt too ‘human’ like too. She must have some impressive AI, but something about that thought felt weird. 

“So Skeletons, in fish tanks, one hell of a way to spend eternity, don’t you think?” You said, looking back at the tanks, as you felt her walk around your back to your other side, sizing you up. You felt a familiar tug at you, like some of her mannerisms were familiar but you couldn’t place them, or you didn’t want to place them.

“Oh, it's worse." She shrugged, letting her fingers trace across your shoulder with a devilish grin, as she watched your pulse quicken the vein in your neck, giving the steadily increasing beats away.

“Don’t you mean it could be worse?” You asked, looking at her. The way she said that, that it wasn’t just an eternity, that it was something worse, your expression twisted to that of uncertainty. 

“Is that not what I said?” She gave you a grin that made your stomach tighten. “But don’t worry, poppet.” She gave a mock reassuring nod, patting your arm lightly. “It’s not your fate, and that should be a comfort.” You didn’t like what she was saying; something was wrong with this welcome droid; that definitely didn’t feel like a droid. 

“What do you mean, Missy?” You asked, turning to face her more. 

“Put two and two together, dear. I know he picks them pretty, but one of you is bound to be smart.” She muttered.

You made a face and shook your head, looking at her, trying to figure out what she meant. It was clear to you she absolutely wasn't what she said she was. Missy studied you and then looked so offended. “He didn't!!” She scoffed. “I worked so hard on you for a year! A year of twisting and manipulating.” She rolled her eyes. “Of course he would go and ruin it; he usually doesn't mess with memories. Oh my dear, did I ruin you that badly? How cute.” She mused and tilted her head. She withdrew her lipstick out with a flourish and lazily applied it to her lips, in a show watching you intently. She popped her lips and hummed, putting the lipstick away.

“What are you talking about?” You took a step back, but she caught your wrist, pulling you back towards her. Gripping your wrist, she pulled hard; your chest collided with hers, and she grinned. “Oh, poppet. I am going to have a blast with you; I get to chip away at you all over again. His fault really for keeping you, but maybe this time he will learn. Doubtful, he really never does, does he?” She sighed and leaned closer to you. “Do you want to know a secret?” She mock whispered like it was a conspiracy. 

You shifted and tried to get a read on her; she wrapped her arm around your waist, keeping you pinned to her. “All these silly little skeletons are really cybermen, and soon all the graveyards are going to open, and an army will walk.” She grinned and nodded. “And the human race will be nothing more than a footnote." She mused a bit. “He will see that we aren’t so different... and he will be delighted that I didn’t kill you...” She mused watching your expressions change. "Oh, don’t try to think about it too much, love; it's not worth it. All you need to know is that you and I will have a great time together, better than last time, I promise.” She nodded. “Oh! Can you keep another secret, just a silly little girl secret between us girls?” She grinned, grabbed your jaw, and tilted your face up. She bore a large, sharp grin and nodded, waiting for your response. “Oh! Don't give me the silent treatment now, Bunny.” She mock tsked and let her hand slide to hold the back of your neck. 

“Yeah, sure. " You muttered quickly, trying to think of an exit plan. You had to get back to the doctor. 

“The doctor isn't going to save you this time." She nodded again and suddenly crashed her lips against yours. There was the taste of an unknown chemical, rose and tea. As she held you in the kiss, something felt wrong. You tried to push away, but her hands were tight around you, you felt your body get heavy, and you were drowsy, trying to fight whatever chemical she introduced to your system. She pulled back, frowning at you. “What a tough little bird you are,” she mused. “Oh well, a kidnapping is a kidnapping.” She grinned and wrapped her arm around your waist, moving to pull you with her but grumbling about how you were dead weight before moving to lift you over her shoulder, heading further into the mausoleum away from the doctor, away from Clara, away from safety. Your last thought before you succumbed to the sleeping toxin was, ‘Who the fuck is this woman?’ 

Taglist |

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@Theonetruepotato87 @neurodiverse-dumpingground @lena-kieran-luthor @marisacoulterswife @germansarechill @vivvision @skarrkiie @missyblr @toastvogel@what-bout-me @shipshroom @aboutcustardcreams @super-just-because @starbucks-06

[deadwooddross]

Poppin in for the first time in a few months— I’ve been following your art on and off for like two years now, and I just want to say that your art style is still one of my favorite art styles. It’s unique, I love you draw noses/mouths/eyes (gods i love the way you draw mouths and teeth and facial expressions in general, am trying to learn from how you do this because it’s SO GOOD) in a really detailed way while still maintaining stylization, and the grittiness of a lot of your art really inspires me! 

 Also, your armada of trans characters (happy early pride, btw!) are wonderful. Umami in particular is my beloved (to be loved is to be changed indeed, she’s wonderful, and I think about that particular post all the time). Gender stuff’s been funky for me over the past few years, and your peeps have been something of a comfort for me as I figure myself out. Especially because a lot of your characters don’t adhere to strict gender norms— they just exist in their gender, whether that’s dude or woman or nb or something else, and it’s been helping me figure out that I can just exist wherever I’m at, too. I’m not sure if that makes sense, but yeah, it’s appreciated.

I also just really appreciate the diversity in your character designs in general, especially as someone who struggles with variation in character design. I might be rambling here, but even amongst all your fantasy stuff (I’m not quite sure what warhammer is, but you make it look epic), your people just look like they’d be regular people. Like no shade on other artists!, but at the same time, the same anime-esque small nose round/oval face different hair different eyes athletic build for everyone’s favorite characters gets samey after awhile, and i don’t know a lot of people who look like that in real life, y’know? While like your characters like Lyell and human Umami (off the top of my head) and your less obviously fantastical designs in general look like people I could run into while, like, I dunno, grocery shopping or something. They’re unique, but they’re also grounded. It’s definitely something I want to bring to my own art— it makes me feel like I could connect to the character designs more because of it. 

I hope this all made sense, but basically your art is really really cool, and you’re character designs are top notch! wishing you a wonderful Pride and a great rest of your week

I've just been looking at this ask every now and then like :] wahhh, thanks!! it's always nice to get an idea of what it is people See in my art these days, since it just kinda looks 'normal' to me haha. Never really think of it as being all that stylized until I realize oh wait, most people are out here drawing much more reasonably sized mouths, oops, and i love regular people! Truly some of the best inspiration for interesting character designs to me are usually out buying corn nuts and a beer at the gas station and whathaveyou...regular people are great, i recommend jotting down any interesting folks you see as fast as you can, like a monk frantically scribbling down a vision from heaven

[tapucocoafgc]

Realized I hadn't actually posted a life update here in a hot second, oops. I've mostly been posting over on my Bluesky (tapucocoafgc over there if y'all would like to follow, shameless plug) and reserving this for shitposts, but it's been a good few months so here goes

I'll be real, 2025 has not been kind so far. As a bisexual woman dating another woman, having to keep a closer eye on the news than ever before due to *gestures vaguely at who's in charge* is fucking awful, but I know I don't need to be the one to say that. Quite bluntly, I don't know if my living situation is going to be the same this time next year or even six months from now. There's so much happening, both personally and in the world, and it's a lot to sort through.

Despite that, I've been focusing more on myself and trying to sort myself out. Been getting more into my local FGC scene and focusing more on Granblue Fantasy Versus Rising. Learning is a rough process for me due to both haha funny neurodivergence and trauma related to that process. But I'm doing my best to remember I'm in a safe spot in life now and no one worthwhile is going to yell at me if I don't instantaneously understand the thing. I've also been trying to rekindle my offline Pokken scene since I do still love that game and always will. Got my partner and my two best friends here to help me with it and it's always fun to play FGs with homies.

Getting older also fucking sucks because yippee, I've developed sciatica in my right side. Wasn't sure about it since it technically started around this time last year, but it went away for several months, returning in November in the form of a weird ache in my upper right leg. In the time since, it's progressed to my knee and my lower back, which is how I figured out it was sciatica. Of course we're not about self diagnosis in this house, so I reserved real judgment on it until I could make an appointment. Which I did... in February... and had to still wait two months. Because what's actually having good healthcare when you're unemployed, amirite fellas? Apparently it's genetic too so that's great. Thankfully I finally got my appointment in last week and so I'm on track to getting it treated after months of pain. It's already feeling less bad (knock on wood) so hopefully that trend continues. To that end, I've been trying to stay active too. It's not the most strenuous thing but I've managed to cobble together a proper exercise regimen and I'm honestly proud of myself for that level of self discipline. Keeping a routine is fucking hard but we in there.

Somewhat on that note, and as the final point for this behemoth of a post, I've been trying to get back on writing on a regular schedule. Putting words together continues to be the most difficult yet most rewarding hobby of mine. I highly doubt this is going to end up being anything more than a passion project, but I'm okay with that to be completely honest. Not every passion has to be monetized to hell and back, imagine that. I started writing this particular story while I was in college in 2013, and even over a decade later I'm still plugging away at it because this world and these characters still have a hold on me and a soft spot in my heart. It's been turbo slow going but I still want to tell this story. In these times of trying to maintain some level of optimism against the bullshit of the world, I think the theme of the story is appropriate. And it's been a good reminder for me too.

This came out to be a lot longer than I expected oops so if anyone actually read this far, you're a real one, stay safe out there and ily

[bcbdrums]

📂

Any headcannon about where Maka's mom is?

WELL.

anime canon first. either she's 1) dead, and Spirit sends the postcards. 2) legit went on a never-ending vacation after the divorce with no intent to return (and heck maybe it's still Spirit sending the postcards), or 3) she was exiled by Lord Death for not sticking around to do her freaking job.

manga canon is...basically the same, except no postcards exist of course.

all in all.... my headcanon is, she was a lousy mother from the start, barely spending time with baby Maka. dropping her at daycare at each and every opportunity. she still wanted to do her job at first, but. teen pregnancy kinda ruins life's trajectory, you know? plus...her weapon (and i say "her weapon" loosely she straight-up stole Stein's weapon) no longer belongs to her; she wanted clout for making Lord Death's personal weapon i think, so schemed to get Spirit. didn't count on getting pregnant, oops. then her weapon is no longer hers cuz...what did she think was gonna happen by turning a scythe into a death scythe?? and she's got a baby. no more school, no more missions, probably no more friends... or few. and those she has are the ones she'd yeet off to see when dropping Maka at daycare.

i think that she stuck around in Maka's life consistently for less than five years. like. idk. i think she'd take off on long trips for herself. traveling the world. she was likely a person with great wanderlust; i think many meisters may be, but that's a side-note. but like... what was she gonna do? she's gotta be a mother now. her life as she'd planned it to be.... traveling the world, taking missions... is over. i think she very selfishly just...left. while Maka was still young. barely ever came around for visits, fought with Spirit the whole time she did...

i also think she actively poisoned Maka's thinking of her father. i think she put it into Maka's head that Spirit was a cheat, and little toddler Maka drew on available evidence to make her mother's words seem true. (see: this post where i spell out how it's possible Spirit never cheated at all.)

and then once the divorce was final, which, honestly probably only took so long because she couldn't be bothered to come around to actually go through with it... she just left for good. she can't be the great renowned meister she wanted to be anymore, so she's kinda floating around, wasting the rest of her youth, trying to find herself. and not succeeding it seems, or else she'd make some attempt to be a better mother in my opinion. back to manga here... she couldn't even be bothered to give Spirit his ring back in person at the divorce; she mailed it to him later on. like. man.

i do feel sorry for her. but running away from her family is not a solution. and stealing someone's weapon to begin with...was a bad move. this woman is not anyone to be idolized or held on a pedestal.

i could go on and on and on about this, but... i'll do that in various fanfics :) so yeah, where is she? she took off and is doing her own thing and has no connections anymore to the DWMA, is the headcanon i'm going with for now.

thanks for the ask!!!

[magentamythologist]

the BEST intro post you ever did see

hello! It is I, Caiman, your favorite pink Paldean. if you couldn't guess my favorite color is magenta and I am very into myths and legends to the point where I accidentally summoned 4 ancient evils collectively known as the Treasures of Ruin into the world investigating one. oops

anyway I would RATHER talk about my team than prattle on about myself so uhhh

meet my funny pokemon friends that I met while on my funny pokemon journey where nothing bad happened at all! hahaha

Wesenlos, my favorite Gengar who is also now your favorite Gengar. I've had him for years now and he is my best friend other than my human friends who do not even compare to the awesomeness that is Wesenlos.

Lenkrad, my Cyclizar. She loves graham crackers which is why I buy them in bulk now and is very fast and very playful and very friend :)

Ziegenhirt, my Gogoat. He likes to take little naps in the sun and is the most precious adorable Pokemon in existence and my friends agree with me on this one because they have GOOD TASTE.

Verfaulen, my Dragalge. Much less rude once you get to know them. May have accidentally poisoned me on a few occasions, including right after I caught them.

Sammlung, my Rabsca. He is very energetic and loves to roll around on his giant pink energy sphere and every morning we go on walks together.

Meineid, my Spiritomb. We met when they attacked me on Glaseado Mountain and I almost fell off a mountain face I'm gonna be honest, they still kinda scare me.

anyway, that's all about me I promise my usual posts won't be this long. if you have any cool myths or anything send them my way and DON'T BE A MEANIE OR I WILL SIC VERFAULEN ON YOU (BUT NOT MEINEID I'M NOT CRUEL)

wait a minute! this wasn't here before! some new people must have joined the blog at some point!

Hi! I'm Nico (he/him), and I'm sorta new to this whole Rotomblr thing so please be nice maybe? I lived in Sevii for a while before I moved back to Paldea recently and then many things went down (if Caiman hasn't told you about them on this blog neither will I, and that's more Arven's decision to make than either of ours) and I'm hoping Caiman's blog that he totally let me use will not facilitate the near-destruction of Paldea. (wow this paragraph is long)

Anyway, my team! I'm gonna start with Calavera the Skeledirge because she was my starter. I got her the day I arrived in Paldea and would die for her (and almost have I will not elaborate)

Erithaca the Talonflame. The first Pokemon I ever caught (but technically not my starter). She's very fast and very cute which she knows and weaponises.

Molossus the Houndoom. We met back when my only Pokemon were a brand-new Fuecoco and a freshly-caught Fletchling when I fell off a cliff (which I WILL elaborate on). He got a lot nicer once I got to know him, which is good because when we met he was unfriendly, to say the least.

Halysidota the Volcarona. I got him as an egg from Caiman, who got the egg from a friend of his in Alfornada, apparently. Still tries to take naps in my lap despite being bigger than me.

Coronatus the Lurantis. I broke the Fire-type streak with this one! Has the best fashion sense out of all my Pokemon. Apparently very small for a Lurantis, but that doesn't stop him from being the most superior Lurantis.

Chalcanth the Glimmora. Better than Geeta's Glimmora (and I have the evidence to back up this claim. it is FACTUAL). Very curious about the world. Thinks the underside of my desk is a cave wall and keeps trying to attach themself to it, which is probably a sign I should clean that space a bit?

Maltravieso, who I will call Maltra here, an odd variety of Cyclizar who is either from the past or an alternate universe, Sada never elaborated on it much and also gave off weird vibes long before she turned out to be one of the most rancid people I have ever met. I met Maltra at around the same time as Molossus, actually, and they've saved my life multiple times (which, again, I will not elaborate on).

I also met a BUNCH more Pokemon while I was in Kitakami and Unova but that's not my main team! so yeah

but wait! there's more!

Hello, I'm Atenea! Pretty sure Caiman's talked about me before here (the Reshiram summoner). No, I will not give you any more information about how I came across Reshiram. I've never been on Rotomblr because internet in Cabo Poco is spotty most of the time but I'm excited to try it out. Now go meet my team, they don't bite except for the ones who bite, which is all of them.

Pardinus is a Floragato! He was my starter and has been there for my whole (very eventful) journey. Ultimately wound up deciding not to evolve again.

Ibarrola is a Grafaiai. Enjoys arts and crafts (unsurprisingly) and highly energetic. Currently trying to figure out how to use a touchscreen, which would work better if his fingers weren't covered in wet paint.

Aspartame (who I will call Aspar) is an Alcremie! We met when some heavy cream me and Caiman were supposed to be using in Home Ec class turned out to have a Milcery hiding in it which then evolved, an incident which I'm pretty sure got the supplier sued. We're the best of friends!

Dominic is a Kilowattrel. He likes stealing power cords and using them as a nest. I think he's miffed they aren't as electrically simulating to him when they're in his nest because they're unplugged, though.

Geastrales is a Breloom. Likes to fight everything. Has punched multiple terrorists unprompted, a behavior which I will continue to reinforce.

Casque is a Haxorus. Takes naps a lot during the day, which I'm fairly certain is because he spends hours every knight obsessively sharpening his head-blades and forgets to sleep because of it.

Argentine is a weird one. They're a robotic version of Cyclizar from either the future or an alternate universe. Their personality is pretty much exactly like the version of Cyclizar that hails from the past and they are the member of the team who has saved my life the most.

I also met other Pokemon too, when I went to Kitakami and then Unova on a class trip. They're not here right now, though.

[admiringlove]

omg finally had my hands on the last chapter of mm (annnnnd browsed through the first epilogue. don't blame a woman-) and i enjoyed it so so much!!!! okay i don't know what to start with so i start with the Main Star of the Story the Strongest himself. god i KNOW i've already sang countless odes to this satoru but i just can't stop. his arrogance, this infuriating charm, the way he knows precisely what to do like he's been sure all his entire life (and when he's not- he's still hot. it's okay), like you said in this chapter, it just brings me to my knees and i honestly can't form a proper coherent thought which means you've made your job depicting him perfectly. and THE FUCKING DRAGON???? okay. but firstly, what's his special memory???? maybe that time when the reader found him in the fourth year??? I NEED TO KNOW THIS MISS, DROP THE LORE 😼😼😼😼 and secondly, i've been wondering do you have any headcanons or you might've stated it already and i missed it about his wand (not that- OOPS WHO SAID THAT. sorry, slipped out). i mean wood and core (god this is so ambiguous 😭😭😭😭😭😭)

the thing about this chapter and the culmination in general that i liked is that it wasn't something super grandeur like in the canon but rather...smaller. and it was good for me since this story wasn't about it. i was thinking previously how you would let the story unfold in a final, what would be a way. not every final battle is meant to be... grand. sometimes it's raw, brutal in its honesty, and rather even unexpected, when you can't afford being hesitate, when you move before you think (as certain someone, cough cough that finally made them confess (it was a confession in my textbook!!)) and this what makes everything more real. AND GODS YOU INCORPORATED THAT "AT LEAST CURSE A LITTLE IN THE END BETWEEN SATOSUGU!!! it was such an intimate moment and i felt i shouldn't be even reading it 😞😞 gove the boys moment alone!!!

though i bet they all would have a GRAND SCOLDING because they're still a bunch of teenagers 😭😭😭😭 and dumbledore, oh god, i just wanted to punch him, this hypocrite sweet talker, i guess you captured his essence exactly on point. an old dick!!

i am very happy that i stumbled across this story and please please don't stop writing, you have such a nice way with words and your brain is sexy!!! please keep doing it and i hope to see another story as beautiful as this one from you, huge huge thanks to you :)))) (and can't wait to read the epilogues)

i don't blame you for browsing through the first epilogue honey i'd be curious too 😭😭 DUDE I LOVE THIS VERSION OF SATORU SO MUCH HE'S SUCH AN ASSHOLE AND SUCH A GENTLEMAN AT THE SAME TIME I CAN'T BELIEVE I LITERALLY CREATED HIM EITHER OH MY GOD

the special memory will be given in the second epilogue hehe :333 i'm halfway done with writing it and it is. slightly angsty but with loads of comfort and some.. sigh, spice <3 i'll give you headcanons about the entire series in a separate post because... um. i'd have to fit an entire google keep in here and i'm not gonna burden you with reading all that in one ask 💀

i sort of took lots of inspiration from fantastic beasts actually. because most of the battles and final scenes in that series are actually more raw, but less action-packed iykwim? the setting also i lowkey took from the second movie, with the whole amphitheater thing. and i really desperately wanted them both to almost die trying to save each other to make the stakes really high because they're.. kinda stupid and dense and don't realize their feelings for each other in an "aha" moment, and more just like. slowly build it and them knowing that they've always cared for each other in the not-so-frenemies way (and yes, it was a confession!! i wanted them to say they loved each other without actually saying that they did) ☹️🫶

AND YES OH I'VE TRIED TO INCORPORATE CANON SUBPLOTS INTO IT SO MUCH SO I'M GLAD YOU TOOK NOTE!! the whole "curse me at the end" was really heartbreaking for me when i read the manga and honestly i teared up while writing too :( and lowkey i started to hate dumbledore by half blood prince in the books and i wanted to really make it clear ngl 😭 because this man is letting his students get put in danger for no reason every single year like goddamn you're a horrible teacher 😭😭

tysm ☹️☹�� i'm so glad mischief managed received sm love and i'm so, so glad that you sent this because it made my heart melt so badly <3

[stephobrien]

I’m coming from my vent account because I don’t want to get found out as a Jew on my main. Please, please stop posting in the antisemitism tag. You’re clogging it up and taking away a safe space for Jews by trying to delegitimise Jew hatred. Now, I don’t know if you’re good faith or not, but I’m leaning on no. You keep on going onto posts about Jew hatred from Jews, saying what boils down to ‘wow! I’ve learned so much from this!’ and then you go back to posting inflammatory things again. I mean, you posted something from Caitlin Johnstone, I can’t believe that you give a single shit about Jews (or Ukrainians) after that

As for your most recent post on how poor you just can’t believe lying Jews when we talk about discrimination because you’re scared we’re deceiving you, you put in a comment ‘If I'd seen said Arab nations' governments massacring thousands of civilians, while painting every single criticism of said massacre as Islamophobic, yes, I would have’. This is… I don’t even know how to tackle this, do you genuinely not know all of the horrific shit so many of the Arab states have done? Qatar is known as one of the biggest countries of modern slavery. The Houthis in Yemen sex traffic Ethiopian women, and also reintroduced slavery into Yemen. Just look at the atrocities so many of these countries have committed against Shia Muslims! Is your brain mush, how can you say this when there is so, so much evidence of the horrors that these nations have committed?! And if you think these states graciously accept criticism of those horrors… you’re being ignorant on purpose. And it’s still not okay to say that you don’t believe an Arab when they talk about anti Arab racism that they’ve experienced, I think we can at least agree on that. So why’s it not the same for Jews?

For a more personal example to Jews, look up the Mizrachi expulsion. The Arab states violently expelled almost a million Jews from their countries ‘because Israel’, which they only care about because it ruined their dream of pan Arabism, not because of any solidarity with the Arabs in the mandate btw. My family was lucky, we came from Iran, which is not Arab, so the violence was coming from the people rather than the state itself. But I’ve had to heard accounts from people talking about how they watched their family get shot in the head while their homes were repossessed for no reason other than the fact they were Jews. Is that bad enough for you? Does it even make a dent in your image of the Arab states? Or is it okay because it happened to Jews?

I know I sound very angry in this, and that’s because I am very angry. And that anger is completely justified! My life, and the lives of almost every Jew on this disgusting website, have been beyond horrible for five months. The number of times I’ve had to read about a new Jew hating shooting or stabbing in the world is too many too count. And then, non Jews like you decide to play the ‘oops, I just caaaan’t believe those Jews about Jew hatred because they could be zionists!’ (Which are around eighty percent of the Jewish population, but I don’t think you’re ready for that conversation yet, it’s reserved for people who actually want to learn). All of us are so unimaginably angry. All of us are at our fucking breaking point, or we’ve completely snapped already! The people you have interacted with have been some of the kindest, most levelheaded people here, but you’d better not get used to it, because we’re all tired of this bullshit

Thank you for taking the time to call me out. Between you and the several other people who contacted me about this, I’ve come to realize that that post was a terrible mistake.

It was meant to be a vent post about people who deliberately blur the lines around what’s actually antisemitism, and about my lack of certainty about my own ability to independently assess the less obvious instances of that (which is clearly still very lacking, as the response to that post made clear to me).

But it apparently caught a lot of innocent Jews in the crossfire, making them feel unsafe, unheard, and delegitimized. That wasn’t the intention, but it was clearly the effect. I screwed up badly, and I’m sorry.

I admittedly don’t know all the details about the horrific shit Arab nations have done. I was aware of Iraq’s government mass murdering protesters, and Saudi Arabia’s horrifically sexist laws, but some of the info you shared in this post is stuff I hadn’t previously heard of.

As for why I mentioned false accusations of antisemitism specifically, it’s because that’s the one I’ve seen several times a day lately, sometimes in the form of stuff like telling people who protest child murder that “You just don’t like it when Jews defend themselves.”

That said, you and the other people who responded have made it clear to me that that focus was based on an overly narrow view on my part. I’ve been more active in pro-Palestine circles than in circles that focus on the other situations you mentioned, so naturally that resulted in me seeing more antisemitism accusations than accusations focused on groups that aren’t directly involved in that conflict. So that resulted in a less than balanced viewpoint.

While my vent post was meant to be about one specific phenomenon I’d personally seen a lot of, the fact that I didn’t mention similar behavior on the part of groups I hadn’t personally seen as much of that behavior from did result in it being unjustly targeted, in a way I didn’t intend but should’ve assessed better.

What happened to you and other Jews at the hands of Arab nations (and pretty much every nation) was absolutely not okay. The effect my post had on you and other Jews who saw it was not okay. The treatment you’ve endured on Tumblr is not okay. And I’m sorry for the pain I caused you.

You have every right to be angry at me. I won’t ask you to forgive me or trust me, because I know I earned your anger with that poorly thought out post. I shouldn’t have made my own insecurities and frustrations other people’s problem like that. I screwed up badly, and I’m sorry.

[volosdarling]

VOLINO POKÉMON THOUGHTS!

★ ANSWERING THE QUESTIONS IN THIS POST ★

💫 How did you and your F/O meet?

IT WAS HIS PRAYER TO ARCEUS, ACCORDING TO HIM... :3 HE PRAYED FOR A SIGN, AND THERE I WAS NOT LONG AFTER, UNCONSCIOUS IN THE CENTER OF A TIME-SPACE DISTORTION. OOPS

💫 Did you know them before they rose to fame/infamy, or maybe you caught their eye amongst all the fans and rivals they had already?

HE WAS ALREADY AN OUTCAST OF SORTS BECAUSE HE TRIED TO BRING THE END OF THE UNIVERSE AND STUFF... BUT THAT'S NONE OF MY BUSINESS COS HE WAS NICE TO ME AND HELPED ME HEAL ^_^ (ALSO I HAD NO IDEA FOR AT LEAST A YEAR)

💫 How do your teams coexist? Are your pokémon complete opposites, or two haves of the same coin?

AHH UHHH IN HISUI, HIS TEAM WAS OUR TEAM... WELL ITS MORE LIKE THEY'RE HIS TEAM + MY BODYGUARDS. :-P

TODAY, HIS TEAM IS WAY STRONGER THAN MINE, SO THEY'RE KIND OF MENTORS TO MY POKEMON... BUT HE'S HELPING ME BE MY OWN TRAINER WITHOUT USING RENTAL POKEMON, SO ITS FUN.

ALL HIS POKEMON HAVE VERY DIFFERENT PERSONALITIES SO ITS HARD TO ELABORATE, BUT HIS TOGEKISS IS THE SWEETEST ONE, AND MY CLAYDOL IS ... ERRMMM... ALWAYS LEVITATING SILENTLY AND DOESN'T REACT TO ANYTHING

💫 When the battles are done for the day, how do you guys relax?

IF WE'RE NEAR SOMEWHERE WE HAVEN'T BEEN, WE'LL TRY SOMETHING NEW. BECAUSE THAT'S JUST HOW WE ARE.. WE LIKE TO LEARN NEW THINGS TOGETHER. LIKE WHAT PLACES HAVE GOOD FOOD :-P

... but SOMETIMES WE WILL PACK FOOD INSTEAD, BECAUSE TO EAT OUT 7 DAYS A WEEK IS JUST EXPENSIVE, AND ONLY HE KNOWS THE WAY I REALLY LIKE MY LUNCH BEST LOL

ELSE: WE GO TO MY FAVORITE PLACE IN THE WORLD (HOME)

💫 Have you visited other regions with your F/O yet? Maybe gone sight-seeing or tried your hand at taking on a foreign championship together?

( AHHHEE I DON'T THINK I COULD BE A CHAMPION OR ANYTHING CRAZY LIKE THAT. NOT BECAUSE I'M BAD AT BATTLES BUT BECAUSE I WOULD KMS IF I HAD TO BE ON TV. HIM ON THE OTHER HAND, I THINK HE CAN DO IT. BUT HE HAS HIS OWN INTERESTS OUTSIDE OF THAT XP )

WE'VE TRAVELED AROUND SINNOH... I WANT TO GO TO PALDEA ONE DAY THOUGH BECAUSE I READ THE VIOLET BOOK AND I THINK ITS SO COOL HOW CRYSTALS GROW EVERYWHERE THERE... 💭 MAYBE IF I SAY PLEAAAAASEEEEEEEE🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺 WE CAN GO

💫 Do you have a pet F/O who’s a pokémon? How do you guys relax in your downtime? Did you catch them or hatch them? Who really found who, between the two of you?

I HAVE A PORYGON IN MY COMPUTER THAT I GOT FROM DOWNLOADING A BAD FILE IF THAT COUNTS. . .

RIGHT NOW HE'S HELPING ME BEFRIEND IT BECAUSE HE'S VERY GOOD WITH POKÉMON :-] BUT SLIGHTLY LESS GOOD WITH COMPUTERS, SO SOMETIMES IT'S TRICKY. LUCKILY I'M THE I.T. GUY IN THIS RELATIONSHIP SO IT BALANCES I THINK LOL.

WE RELAX VIA PARALLEL PLAY/STUDY LIKE EVERY AUTISM4AUTISM COUPLE, THANKS FOR ASKING!

[rawliverandcigarettes]

One thing that becomes clearer and clearer every time I dare to dip back into The Empire of Preys, is that it's a story for... almost nobody.

(beware: I express a ton of feelings regarding the series under the cut, not all of them positive --and I talk a little bit about my current relationship to the Mass Effect fandom)

Don't get me wrong: I adore it, I am still extremely puzzled at how my brain even began to conceive a story like that, and the first chapter is a complete banger in my honest opinion, and the characters are uncomfortable in a very interesting way, and the worldbuilding is extremely dense with things I hope are meaningful, but.

It's also... pretty hostile to readership? By that I mean: I don't think it can be read passively. A big part of reading TEoP is, first, to understand how systems function normally; and then, understand how these systems interact altogether, how they can be abused, how they are actually abused, and what chain of events these systems will lead to. I am really proud of this interconnectivity --at the same time, it is incredibly dense and demand work. For all the fun and games I can try to inject in there, there are basic principles that can't skip being understood well for the plot to make sense; it's a politically driven story in the dryest possible way --with disaster bisexuals and fashionistas sprinkled on top to lush it up a little, but at heart it is a story about systems interconnecting from the bottom to the top, and it's a tangled mess in there.

So it's... If I'm being honest, and in spite of my genuine love of it, I have to admit it is a little hard to dedicate myself to pushing it further to the degree of polish that it needs. Not to say I won't do it --I will-- but it's impossible not to notice how *barren* the Mass Effect community has gotten in the last couple of years, this year being particularly bad. The readership was barely there anymore when Halfway Home got out, and I'm like... who's even left in there to read 200k worth of words of salarian/turian/asari politics in excruciating detail? Who's even interested in peeling up that toxic system of governance and how soft imperialism manifests in that universe? I still am, because I am invested in that version of Mass Effect and the characters I have put together in that context. But who else?

Of course, there's always this thing of "don't write for an audience, write for yourself", and I'm an absolute follower of that mentality. However.

However.

(oops here comes a condensed version of that Halfway Home post-mortem I promised six months agoooo)

Halfway Home was *hard work*. It's work I decided to go through on my own, and I knew from the start it wouldn't reach that large of an audience --on virtue of being stupid long, about an OC (and a salarian at that, who cares), and having a trigger warning list longer than most people would find reasonable. I am happy that I did the work, and that I chewed the text over until I was absolutely sick of it --but it was basically the best version of what 7 years worth of change and growth and experimentations could get to before absolute burnout. And I am even happy about the readership! I had wonderful comments and I am truly honored that some people invested in that story to the degree they did, and I am fully aware that stories that take much more work get even less attention on the daily. But I would lie to say that I kind of felt... drained, when I saw that I had, indeed, taken too much time to complete it, and the fandom was basically dried up when I finally released it. Watching seven years of my life disappear down the Ao3 drain felt... Well, I won't lie. It felt kind of bad. It felt kind of like grief.

At the end of the day, it is true that nobody ever cares more about your story than yourself --and again, I am neither fishing for attention nor am I really complaining, even. It is a difficult story to sell and to read through, and I always knew the readership would be extraordinarily slim (and it did find it, and I am beyond uwwuuuuwuwu about it, truly ;;). I knew all of that going in. But I also won't lie that fandom timing was... horrendous --and it is even worse today. The fact that I have *barely* seen a hint of speculation on my dash from the latest N7 trailer does kind of say something as well. Sometimes, things come and go. And I suppose that's okay.

But what of The Empire of Preys? What of my deep care for the characters? What of my (I think, understandable) reluctance about jumping in to the next installments, knowing *for sure* that I'll be lucky if I graze 500 hits on Ao3? And that's me being beyond generous, honestly? I wish I didn't care about that, but I guess I do, a little. I also think it's understandable, wanting to work on things and see an impact from whatever you do --even if it comes from love and care. I'm glad I got to do it once, but do I want my literal masterpiece (I know the wording is strong, but I genuinely think TEoP is the best thing I ever did, counting my professional work that will be experienced by a *much* larger audience, and I have zero ideas how I could top it off conceptually given it felt like everything was being served to me in a trance-like state) being sandwiched between futanari porn and a story about a... certain main pairing being plastered absolutely everywhere and tending to suck all the oxygen in the room. No hate to either concept in particular, I actually like the coexistence of everything, it's part of what's cool about fanfiction! But, also. Also.

I suppose it is the curse of having a brain that works best creatively in the context of fandom --and daring to believe in the importance and necessity of creativity for its own sake, without monetary gain. But also, the very human entitlement thing of... not wanting to pour all of its life energy into a black hole.

It's complicated. I do not have a good answer as of now, at least regarding TEoP. I will keep on working passively on it as of now, once in a while, rediscovering it's genuinely really good from time to time and then moving away from it somewhat, until next time. I'm still doing Zelda stuff as of now, which... has been way more rewarding creatively, not gonna lie. It's a fandom full of lifeblood, with ideas bouncing around, people wanting to meet up, boundless creativity. I have written a micro-trilogy this year (it's here if that interests you), and, while in the same ballpark of attention than Halfway Home, it was undeniably more rewarding. I think I also needed to change mediums --I am currently experimenting with animatics, visual storytelling and extremely humble 2D animations, and I'm having a blast.

So... Yeah. I am fairly certain I will complete The Empire of Preys, because I love it deeply and I want to complete it, for its own sake if anything. But in regards to a timeframe... I'm not promising anything. It will happen. Not sure when! I'm following where creativity feels the more urgent at the moment.

But one day, this is a story that will exist, at the very least, and I think I'll love it deeply as well no matter how it's received. But I think I need a little bit of a positive feedback loop right about now, and so to work on projects that like... will be read. Or watched. Or played. Or experienced. And I'm not positive The Empire of Preys will be that for me, at least right now.

[freakattack]

I know I have a phobia of bugs and spiders and I know (and greatly appreciate) that you started tagging bug posts for that very reason but I have not muted the tag or turned off notifications for your blog. Reasons being 1. The phobia of bugs isn't bad enough I cant handle a few seconds of exposure when scrolling past and the more... exotic? I guess??? the bug is the the less my phobia makes me feel the effects and I can appreciate a cool looking bug (There is no amount of spiders I can stand though, even the thought of them activates the phobia.) And 2. I really enjoy your info dumps about bugs and hearing what you have to say about them, your blog is just really endearing to me, like watching a cool exotic bug wearing a top hat playing wario ware on max difficulty perfectly on the bus. Also I love me a good obscure fact.

I am in a hell of my own creation.

Do not cry for me, for I am already stupid.

Top ten funnest messages to receive after sticking my arm into a tub of cockroaches

No but you're so real for this and I am so happy that I can offer a safe avenue to learn about bugs. I actually was talking to someone at my job today about the importance of invertebrate conservation education (contrary to popular belief i do have a job and it does have to do with bugs), and a big part of that is taking away the unfamiliarity of these animals and presenting them in a way that people can relate to and appreciate. Generally speaking things become less scary the less "unknown" they are, and if the things you know about them are endearing (like centipedes being good mamas, or bees making an "oop" sound when they bump into each other), it can take away some of that fear. And you're right that arthropods are INCREDIBLY important ecologically so that's another reason I'm passionate about this subject.

That being said I'm happy to tag spiders in addition to bugs because I'm not trying to jumpscare people! That'd be counterproductive! (However if you're up for it, I have heard that the Lucas the Spider animations on youtube have helped a lot of people with their fear; it's computer-animated semi-stylized depiction of a jumping spider but it's voiced by a cute little kid, and even though it's a little corny I do think it has done a lot for spider PR. Obviously not for everyone though!) And yeah I feel you on that last point, I would never compare not liking bugs to actual bigotry (especially with simply bugphobic people, whom I am chill with) nor would I ever compare the plight of bugs to that of actual marginalized people, BUT at the same time if someone steps over the line and is viciously hateful about any animal (e.g. commenting "KILL IT WITH FIRE" on someone's pet, adamantly insisting that an entire species needs to go extinct, unloading a whole bottle of raid on 1 ant, etc.) simply because it is different or inconveniencing them, I will be very suspicious of their ability to be normal about human beings who are different or inconveniencing them. If nothing else I will think they are a massive tool!

But ya I so deeply respect your ability to appreciate the value of these animals despite your phobia, cause so many people don't even without that obstacle. Every bug on earth salutes you (from a safe distance)

Here is a pic of me playing smooth moves