#the exception here is probably the depths

[magpies-gold]

I have both eyes and they're both technically functional but I still relate to a lot of this because I also have monocular vision. In my case, the problem is with my brain, actually. It can only process images from one eye at a time because of a defect when I was born that required surgical intervention. Even after the fix, my brain just never learned that I still had two eyes, so it has no capacity to combine the image data like normal people do. As a result, I have no depth perception and I have a dominant eye that I use 90% of the time.

I also have visual snow that's especially noticeable when I close my eyes and at night in the dark, but as there isn't a lot of research on visual snow, I'm not sure if that's related or coincidental. In case people want to know a bit more about life as a person with monocular vision in a two-eyeballs kind of situation: I have a weird trick that I can do that seems to astound folks with binocular vision: I can consciously switch eyes. It's like flexing a muscle and I can decide to use the left one or the right in the same way that I can choose to wave my left or right hand. Trying to use both at the same time just doesn't work, though. If I really try, there's just this pressure feeling in my head, like I'm trying to imagine a colour that doesn't exist, but I can't make the two work together at all. This is likely just a me thing but my non-dominant eye is much worse than my dominant eye, and its been getting worse over the course of my life. It's still useful, but extremely near-sighted, so much so that it alone is legally blind and makes my optometrist and all their staff wince. But I can read very, very tiny close-up writing with it, so it comes in handy when I'm doing things like reading. My dominant eye is a little near sighted but not much. It's pretty stable. Also probably just a me thing: I have one lazy eye, but it relates to the monocular vision. It's my dominant one. If I use the non-dominant eye, you can actually tell when I've switched to it because my dominant eye "switches off" and rolls a little bit up and out. It was worse when I was a kid (my mom saying "Meghan, are you looking at me?" was a common thing) but it still happens nowadays. My non-dominant eye isn't lazy, so when I'm looking around normally with my dominant eye you can't tell that there's anything different about me than your average Joe. It's a mostly invisible disability for me (and I still feel strange calling it a disability because it's just how I've always seen, and yet here I am making a list of complexities regarding my vision, so....) A final possibly-just-me thing is that I hold my pencil like a space alien and always have. The reasoning I've given since I was a kid was because of which eye I use, I wouldn't be able to see what the end of my pencil was doing if I were holding it "correctly", so I draw and write like this:

(Video here, if you want to see the rest of that: https://www.tumblr.com/magpies-gold/699322866172346368?source=share) Can confirm from the above that head-tilt is a thing when one has monocular vision, even with two eyes. Because of the head tilt, I also get people startling me on my non-dominant side a lot, possibly because with my "blind" side tilted back and away from what I'm looking at, they think I'll see them sooner since that eye is closer to looking behind me. Therefore they don't think they're sneaking up on me. That is, right up until they appear, as if by magic, in my field of vision and I go AAAA!

Depth perception problems that I personally encounter: I don't drive so I don't have a lot to add there except that trying to learn scared me too much to proceed. I was not comfortable with how much slower my reaction time was on my left side or how I couldn't accurately judge where exactly objects in front of me were, so I gave it up in my teenage years in favour of a good pair of sneakers and a transit pass. But I will loudly say that going down stairs sucks. I am very opinionated on how much I love and appreciate when stairs have the bright yellow stripe at the edge, or some other marker to aim for. If stairs are all one uniform colour I am hesitant as hell putting my feet down because I can't tell how far a drop it is. I'm slow on descents on unfamiliar stairs and I desperately need the railing to hold on to. Going up stairs isn't bad because I have other visual cues to help me, and I'm much faster there. I also don't do well on really uneven terrain, like the rocky shores we have on beaches here. Watching my fiancé go hopping and skipping over rocks like a mountain goat gives me light wistful despair because I know if I tried that I would miscalculate almost immediately and break all my bones. My tactic is to get low and go slow if I have to cross anything where distances get tricky to guesstimate. I become a crab. I also have friends who know to slow down and will also let me hold their hand (bless). I do have peripheral vision ghosts on the non-dominant side even with two eyes. The most common thing I see is ghost cats. I'll see my cat jump up on a counter in my peripheral vision only to turn and find nothing there. Sometimes my brain will also suggest there might be a person walking in my peripheral vision. It's just overcompensating for what it has to fill in the blanks on. I can't catch things that are thrown at me except by sheer luck. Sports like baseball and badminton were brutal in high school and I got into many a verbal confrontation with my teacher while trying to explain that I had a very good reason to be afraid of the projectile coming for my face. I told him more than once to go close one eye and try it for himself and see what it's like. No peeking! I can't peek. Similarly, I can't fly a drone. I learned that very quickly when I accidentally flew Tim's full tilt into a wall. Oops. >> Drone was okay. I, on the other hand, was absolutely boggled by how I just could not tell where it was in space until boom, I'd crashed it. And that's because another thing is that I was personally born the way that I am, so I'm fully acclimated to it. I know nothing else, and I don't notice all the micro calculations that I do to translate my 2D view into 3D space so that I can move around in it. At least, I don't until I have a situation where the object I'm working with suddenly has no context, like a drone in mid-air, and then I suddenly notice my limitations. 3D movies largely don't work for me. They're basically just regular 2D movies involving stupid glasses. -shrug- Finally, video games with a lot of icons around the edges of the screen are a nightmare for me because I can't see all of my monitor at once. Again: slow as balls reaction time because I have to re-calibrate and turn my head a lot. The concept of a wide-screen monitors makes me go "Jesus, why?"

writing advice for characters with a missing eye: dear God does losing an eyes function fuck up your neck. Ever since mine crapped out I've been slowly and unconsciously shifting towards holding my head at an angle to put the good eye closer to the center. and human necks. are not meant to accommodate that sorta thing.

[warblogs17282]

So, I've been thinking about the stuff that ghostfuckers told us about Millie, and I got curious and wondered if what we learned about her there could be used to put things shown in the first short and unhappy campers into perspective a bit more.

Hell's Belles:

Some comments from Sallie May interested me, mainly the lines "for your fancy job." and "shiny new life", and there's a line in ghostfuckers I think I can tie into Sallie May generally describing Millie's job and life positively.

That being, "Most of my life I bought into the idea that all I could ever be was a simple farm girl. Or best an underpaid goon.", and I suspect that Sallie May is still affected by this stereotype, that she feels like she's also a part of that stereotype, considering that we know that she helps out at her parent's ranch.

Which would explain part of the reason why Sallie May calls it 'fancy' and 'shiny', because she may feel like Millie is a notable exception to the stereotype, which would obviously be something that she would describe positively, especially considering that job and life now also consists of killing humans, something that is very much a one of a kind thing. Considering that Millie bought into the stereotype before joining Blitz, it's very probable that Sally May also bought into the same/similar stereotype.

Obviously this is only part of the reason why she describes Millie's job and life like she does, but I still feel like ghostfuckers adds more depth to that statement.

Another thing that I want to mention is the fact that they did some playfighting at the end of the episode, which I think ties into this line in ghostfuckers: "We're just Wrathians, Blitzo. Muscle. It's all we're good for, all I'm good for."

Another stereotype, that all Wrathians are good for is muscle, and fighting is a good way of building muscle, which would help to explain why they just naturally fell into playfighting at the end of the episode, because it's implied that they had playfights like this a lot with each other, and considering the stereotype of that all Wrathians are good for is muscle, it makes sense why they have such a history of playfighting with each other, because again, if Millie believed that stereotype before meeting Blitz, it's very likely that Sallie May also believed the same/similar stereotype as well.

Unhappy Campers:

Let's just skip to the boiling point of their argument in this episode, we know that Millie felt undermined during this episode, which we can see with the line "And for once, I feel like... like I'm important. Like I'm someone to be proud of...", which quite heavily plays into the line "We're just Wrathians, Blitzo. Muscle. It's all we're good for, all I'm good for.", which probably helps to explain part of the reason why Millie felt so strongly about this, just because you know that the stereotype is false doesn't mean it doesn't effect you anymore, it's clearly something that still resides in the back of Millie's head somewhere.

I use that line in particular, because there's two times in the episode before this where we can see Millie be visibly annoyed at Moxxie, and I believe that part of the reason is because she feels like her other qualities are being undermined, with the main one here being her smarts, which kind of plays into the line in ghostfuckers, that stereotype, because considering how prominent that stereotype was for her until meeting Blitz, it's not unreasonable to assume that this specific stereotype was playing in the back of her mind again, which would help to explain part of the reason why she felt so strongly about it when the argument reaches it's boiling point.

Plus, one of the first things Blitz told Millie right after he moved his business to IMP was 'You're tougher, smarter, and frankly more capable than anyone I've ever met in any ring.', showing even further why Millie feels so strongly about this, she probably feels like what Moxxie is doing is a slap in the face to what Blitz told her when they first moved to IMP for their business.

Plus, there's also other relevant lines like "Most of my life I bought into the idea that all I could ever be was a simple farm girl. Or best an underpaid goon." and "Not exactly a shortage of imp assassins in Wrath. Reputation is everything."

"And what's your reputation, hmm?"

Although these are less directly relevant to this scene, I still think it's worth considering into the big picture of why Millie felt so strongly here.

tbh, this is another reason while I'll defend the unhappy campers Moxxie and Millie conflict, it has quite a bit of depth to it if you consider everything, and I've just shown you all that ghostfuckers has given that conflict a bit more depth.

[owl-it-here]

AU idea - One Piece #1

So I was thinking about this fic I read about a year ago (or re-read it?) -> Luffy was raised as a marine and makes it everyone's problem [An amazing read - I recommend checking it out]

And I really like the idea behind it. Using skills that may have been learned before is always cool, especially if there's a chance that they may be canonical. More than that, I think we should go even further.

So far, we don't know enough about Brook and Jinbe's childhoods to make any assumptions (so I won't touch on them in any depth here - but they are both experienced in diffrent ways), but most of them, to put it mildly, had rather difficult childhoods. And that made them perfectly specialised in the areas they chose to remain safe and survive. Moslty had one mentor or were raised by themselves. All except Luffy and Sanji, if you think about it.

The education system in the OP sucks, just like the real one. But the difference in knowledge and experience should be used as an advantage to make comedy out of this tragedy.

Nami had Bellemere, who probably gave her a basic education. She later self-taught herself out of curiosity and a desire to survive. Her time in the Arlong crew gave her more problems than opportunities to learn (but she may have picked up a few tricks here and there).

Zoro studied in the dojo. He had one sensei, one slightly more experienced rival and one older one to talk to. (Definitely not enough but it sure gave him his rather unique perspective).

Usopp only had his mum. Later, maybe some villagers helped him a bit, or Kaya to thank for the stories - but he is also mostly self-taught.

Chopper studied only under two doctors, and neither of them was sane. Maybe some reindeer instincts from his herd passed on to him before he ate the devil's fruit (but he was young, and later under stress so).

Robin grew up on an island full of scholars, but is still mostly self-taught. And apart from her special interests, everything she learned was from survivalism (so a PhD in history (and related stuff) and random knowledge, if I had to guess - well she's clever enough to learn/teach herself more if need be).

Franky, as far as we know, studied technical fields. We don't know enough about him before he came under Tom's wing, but we can assume that most of his knowledge comes from those years. (He created his own little mafia family, but we don't really know if he learned from anyone how to manage it or not).

And then we have Luffy and Sanji.

Luffy had a grandfather who tried to teach him to be a marine and to fight. Makino taught him the basics (and attempted manners). Dadan and her gang showed him by their example how to be a good bandit. Shanks and his crew taught him the basics of being a good pirate. And of course his brothers, taught him how to be a real jungle kid and a few tricks. And all this probably gave him quite mixed signals - especially with his logic.

And finally Sanji. As a prince born to a scientist (an evil sperm donor, but still the person responsible for his education, who probably with his big ego believed that his children even without modification should be as brilliant as he was) Sanji certainly had some sort of super special royal education (which he tried to perfect because it was probably easier than a physical test and he wanted to fit in somehow). He learned manners, politeness and most of all kindness from his mum. How to cook, fight and be a pirate from Zeff. And probably a few other cooking and odd skills from the various chefs he met over the years on both the Orbit and the Bartie. Working in the kitchen is conducive to conversation.

So I've come to the conclusion that I want to read a fic where both Luffy's and Sanji's upbringing has a greater impact on the strawhats' journey. Yes, I want Luffy to occasionally use his random nautical knowledge to help them escape or get something. (Like the author used it to save Ace, but also to help Robin faster etc.). Someone should also note that the style in which he manages his crew is similar to the bandits. Or they should meet some on the way and only Luffy should know how to behave to be respected. I also want Sanji to talk more about things that pirates should know. Or even about political stuff. (Robin could add more too, but Sanji has a slightly different perspective on it than she does.) Even if he doesn't want to talk about his past, the excuse that he knows everything from Zeff works and is practically undeniable, because no one on the crew knows what he went through as a pirate.

It would have been fun to see Luffy explain to his crew why this marine is bad news, but the other one isn't so bad because his grandfather likes him or something. Or if Sanji, after fighting for Nami's freedom, had stopped and asked the crew if any of them knew a bit of hooks (and Luffy realised that Garp was trying to teach him that - but, as standard, he didn't explain just went on to practice-torture).

Bonus if the only person who can immediately use this random information is Zoro. Who on everything just says: it sounds just about right. Because it perfectly balances the Monster Trio in this way.

This could also be a good idea for a larger crew fic. After the whole situation with Nami, the crew starts talking about heading to the Grand Line and a dialogue like this ensues between them: Sanji: so where are we looking for the other members? The others: We are not looking? Sanji: And what about the watch? Grand Line is very unpredictable. Since you knew some pirates Luffy, I'm sure they talked about it…. Luffy: They told super cool stories! Sanji: Then how do you think we'll be able to have a night shift with just five of us? With such a small number of people, especially with no medic on board, it will affect my cooking….

And let's not kid ourselves but the food argument has a pretty good chance of working.

Luffy: Setting out I thought having 10 members would be ideal! Sanji: For influencing the Grand Line - sure - to just look for them there with the unpredictability and adventures waiting for us there - there aren't enough of us now. We need a few more hands and a pair of eyes.

And honestly this conversation probably doesn't affect Luffy that much, he continues to be as picky about selecting his nakamas as he was in canon, but maybe enough that they select perhaps 3 more people for the lineup. Which allows us to stay fairly ok with the storyline and right away adds diversity and some power. Which may have made some of the arks funnier because we have more room to play. (This Bites! makes it look like a good idea).

I call this idea: Luffy was brought up as he was, and that makes it everyone's problem, but it is Sanji's existence that makes everyone else question it - Zoro you should have a bigger problem with that!

In a nutshell: The gray cells are working!

If anyone ever uses it, PLEASE tag me - I want to devour it in every form. I probably could have outlined it better, but well it's just an idea.

[likeabxrdinflight]

I'm pretty far into tears of the kingdom now and by and large I can't help agreeing with what I've seen a lot of people say- it's going to be hard to go back to breath of wild after this. totk really does make botw feel like a demo, a first draft if you will.

but that said, there really are things I think botw overall does better, and it's those things that might make it have some replay value, even with totk existing.

for one, the great plateau is better than the great sky island. the sky island was very obviously a tutorial, and it was so much more linear. I spent most of my time up there going through the motions and waiting to get off of it so I could get down and explore hyrule. I've played through botw at least three times now and never had that feeling on the plateau. I adore the plateau, it's got such a free roaming, survivalist kind of vibe to it that totk just doesn't quite replicate. and though that feeling extends out to the entirety of hyrule in botw, it's strongest on the plateau when you're just a weak baby link still trying to get your bearings.

I'm gonna argue there's something else botw does better too, and that's the atmosphere of the game. totk is a little bit more standard in terms of story and atmosphere. people in hyrule know you now. the world feels more populated and there's so much more stuff to do. you're back to being link the hero. you're the knight to the princess and you're on a clear mission that many npcs reference. even when you're engaged in side plots, everything just feels more driven and goal oriented. the plot feels more urgent and it leads you in specific directions. everything ties back to what is, functionally, a linear-ish story. and I can tell it's meant to be more linear than botw, because I did things pretty out of order in totk's main plot and it was very noticeable to the point of distraction, frankly. I saw several of the geoglyph memories out of order in a way that ruined the big "mystery" of the main plot far too early. I stumbled onto the fifth dungeon by accident and got the master sword back well before I was supposed to. these were both mistakes, as they severely affected the impact that the narrative of the game had on me, and not in a good way.

nothing like this happens in botw, it can't, because botw doesn't do this. the story is minimal, it's non-linear almost to a fault, and the pacing is leisurely. this allows for the atmosphere of the game to shine more to make up for the lack of story. link barely knows who he is. most of hyrule doesn't either. to most, he's just some guy. so you get to be just some guy bopping around hyrule for kicks. the main quests don't feel especially urgent, and the story doesn't intrude much if at all on exploration. the game feels quiet, almost empty even, and contemplative. you're very alone in an abandoned, post-apocalyptic world. it can be haunting, and little sad, but still peaceful. it's a rough world and you're trying to make it on your own, but it's beautiful too. the story never intrudes on this, and no matter what order you do literally anything, it never will.

totk just doesn't feel this way now that hyrule is recovering. it's not so quiet or empty anymore, it doesn't feel like a post apocalyptic wasteland largely overtaken by nature. It feels like an actual kingdom that's coming back to life. that's not a bad thing exactly, I wouldn't have wanted totk's hyrule to feel the same way botw's did. but there's no denying, to me at least, that the emptiness allowed for the atmosphere in botw to have a much stronger presence to it. totk is more about story and plot and to a lesser degree, even character. exploration is still huge, but it feels more purposeful, like you're exploring with a certain end goal in mind at all times and not just for its own sake. in botw, exploration is the entire game, and it feels more driven by curiosity than anything else. it's an intrinsic motivation, and not nearly as goal oriented as in totk.

and while the gameplay of totk is vastly superior to the point of making botw feel almost irrelevant, I think that the atmosphere botw has might be strong enough that I'll still revisit it someday.

[whom-to-kill-whom-to-let-live]

I said I was going to write a proper post analyisng the different Legatos but the brain squiggles won't leave me alone for long enough to do it so I am going to make a silly post about it instead.

*Disclaimer: I made this while extremely sleep deprived so if some things feel wildly inaccurate that's because I did not use my brain at any point while making this.

**Apologies for how this looks, graphic design is unfortunately not my passion

First up is '98 anime Legato

I'm convinced the reason he only took big Ws in this anime is because Knives paid attention to him

He has a plant arm attached to him and knows enough about Rem to accurately insult her ideals in front of Vash

I'm just saying this is the most well adjusted Legato

This boy is so enriched I mean look how happy he is most of the time he's on screen committing his crimes

Living his best life and went out the exact way he wanted 10/10

Next is Trimax Legato

We could have had it aaaaalllllllll

That lack of acknowledgement from Knives really did a number on our boy

I'm just saying if Knives had like 10% higher emotional intelligence the manga would have gone very differently ok

Legato still caused problems and committed so many crimes

He managed to force Vash into killing him and I'll call that a win so 10/10

Lastly is Tristamp Legato

I'm sorry but that's a baby

He has basically no screen time in S1 so we just don't know a lot about his *waves hand* everything

He seems to be more into... proselytizing(?) here than straight up ending humanity? Maybe???

He does manage to torment Vash through bullying Wolfwood so I tentatively put in that check mark

Same with the freakishness, I feel like there was a least a hint of it

Someone please give him a hot dog he's so skinny he's not going to survive the winter

Overall we're going to have to wait and see what they're cooking with this boy so ??/10

[goldentigerfestival]

boy does Fluri make me feel things. a lot of things. i love. them.

[pepprs]

hi update things are fucking terrible and my eyes hurt from sobbing. lol

[marianomoreno]

you know the more you talk to people the more you realise most have gone through pretty incredibly traumatizing stuff. there's this notion that these things are exceptional but theyre really not. tragedy isnt either.

[hollow-vok]

Ohh im obssesed

[s0dium]

Sex Pollen

Geto x F!Reader

A/n: This was pulled out from the depths of my fantasies

Word count: 2.2k

Synopsis: Oh no! You and Geto get hit by an aphrodisiac curse technique on a mission!! What should you do now?

Warning: Breeding, masturbation, begging, mating press, rough sex, desperate sex, marathon sex, doggy, squirting

You think there's something wrong with you. Something feels off, you feel off, rather, you feel hot.

You bolt upright in your bed, flinging the sheets away as if a second more underneath them would burn you. No, something was definitely off. Your mind buzzed, and it couldn't be from the adrenaline of the mission, that was hours ago, it was midnight now.

Your eyes adjusted to the darkness of your room and you bit inside of your cheek. It wasn't just physical exhaustion that draped over your limbs—it was something else, something deeper and more consuming. The air around you felt thicker, every breath you took seemed laced with a heavy, intoxicating warmth. You press a hand to your forehead, trying to quell the rising temperature of your skin, but it provides little relief.

A creeping heat suffuses your body and an unmistakable pulse emanates from your core.

Where you.... Turned on?

A sickly-warm-funny feeling bubbles in your stomach and you're becoming aware of how your skin is starting to stick to your tank top and that the cloth between your legs feels....wet?

Hesitantly, you snake a hand under your waistband and underwear, releasing a small gasp when your skin makes contact with your arousal. You're soaked.

Why is this happening, why now? Your mind races through the events of the previous day. It was mainly just you and Geto on a mission, one like any other—find the curse, exorcise, clean up the mess. Could it be the technique you were hit with?

Could Geto be feeling this too?

Your heart jumps at the thought but you try to shake it off. You know you should get up, wake up Shoko, wake up Geto even, but you can't seem to will your legs to move. Your mind was is just too occupied with something else, the promise of something sweeter, something that is making the funny feeling in your stomach spread.

Without much of a thought, you press an index finger on your throbbing clit, garnering a sharp sigh from you. Just from that simple touch pleasure ripples through your body, making your toes curl. You do the movement again except this time you start drawing light circles on the sensitive nub. You can feel yourself squeeze around nothing from your own ministrations, bliss clouding your hazy mind.

It wasn't enough though. You needed more.

You dart your tongue across your lips and try to focus on the pleasure, on getting some relief. You try to dip one of your fingers inside your hole while continuing the ministrations on your clit with your other hand, but it proves too difficult, your fingers are too small.

Tears blotted your eyes from frustration, letting out a soft whine from the relentless heat that continued to rack your body. Oh how you wish you had someone else to help you, oh how you wish Geto was here.

Your core throbs at the thought. Yes, that was it, he is what you need. You resume your ministrations this time focusing on the euphoric thought of Geto suguru. He would be so good to you wouldn't he be? Oh you bet he'd fill you up so well too, fuck you just right, get rid of this painful arousal, and fill your mind with only pleasure. He would probably talk you through it too, let you pull and tug on his long black hair oh you can practically feel his hands on you right now, so big and warm.

You don't even realize that you are loudly moaning Geto's name at this point, too busy trying to grapple with the searing heat coursing through your veins. You feel like your body is surrounded by an invisible flame, fuck it feels like you are going to die. The room around you blurs into insignificance, as your thoughts fixate solely on your Geto Suguru, his absence a gaping void that echoes through your heightened senses. You feel a desperate craving, a pull so strong it borders on physical pain, rendering you breathless and sobbing for his touch, his presence.

"Suguru, please...." you gasp between sobs, your voice breaking with each word. The tears stream down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you clutch your sheets.

As if on cue, the door swings open and you think that there must be a god out there listening to you because there Suguru stands, backlit by the hallway light, his broad silhouette framed in the doorway.

Before you can even get a word in he is already next to you sitting on your bed and cupping your face with his large warm hands.

Deep violet eyes examine your face as his thumb brushes away the tears on your cheek.

"I-" You choke, a wave of emotions crashing down on your mind stifling the words that desperately wanted to escape your mouth.

"Shhhh, I know baby I know," he coos kissing your forehead and tracing your jaw with his thumb. "I feel it to, but I'm gonna take care of it ok? Don't worry about a thing m'gonna take such good care of you I promise."

He gently tilts your chin up, meeting your doe-eyed gaze with eyes that seems to devour you. Slowly, he lowers his lips to yours, encapsulating your trembling mouth in a deep, comforting kiss that steadys the chaotic beat of your heart. You sigh into the kiss and let his entangle with yours.

As the kiss deepens, he shifts slightly, his lips traveling from yours down to your neck. A soft gasp escapes you as he plants soft kisses along your skin, occasionally nipping and sucking at the delicate skin. You are so lost in the feeling of his lips that you don't even notice his hand on your inner thigh until his finger grazes your lips.

You jump at the sensation but Suguru places a light reassuring kiss on your lips

"jesus, please just, fuck, gotta get you ready just a little bit"

You shake your head quickly and place your hand on Suguru's crotch, the caress of his growing bulge making him groan.

"Please sugu, please just fuck me I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for say long," he mummurs as he pulls down his sweatpants and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white beed of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby I know Don't worry, I got you.”

You're cut off by the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, your cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” he said hoarsely.

“Ngh so goo-"

You dont get to finish the thought because he pulls out and rams back into you with such a fever everything goes blank for a second.

His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted. But that quickly changed to harsher thrusts, until he’s using you like his personal cock sleeve, shaping your insides and bruising your cervix until your entire body jolts with sensitivity.

Every thrust knocks the wind out of you, his tip smushing right against your cervix only to be pulled out and rammed back in again. And the sounds, god the sounds where sinful. Wet skin against skin echoed through the room and the sloshing sound of both of your arousals makes your eyes roll back.

You don't know what's happening, you couldn't even tell someone your own name if they asked. Your grip on the sheets was starting to get loose, tears flowing down to your cheeks, mouth hanging open with drool pooling on the sheets as you were already fucked out of your mind.

"Come on baby just keep your legs on my shoulders. Can you do that for me?" His breath is hot against your ear. "F-fuck please" he says through a groan. If you weren't so fucked out of your mind you would think that he was actually begging. And you were right. Suguru isn't a whimpering man but here he is, voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt  

You are too dumb to reply, only spurting outcries and whines about how good he was fucking you. He snapped his hips so fast that everything seemed like a dream, the bed was shaking immensely with the headboard banging on the wall and you were losing your mind from the friction of his dick against your walls.

"Wanna fuck you every day,"  he grunts out, pumping into you, the length and level of his arousal brutal. "fuck fuck fuck," he swears, as he brings a hand to the back of your head and presses your lips onto his. Your so dazed you practically drool into the kiss, letting him entangle his tongue with yours until spit smeared on either side of your lips. He doesn’t slow the movement for a second as he kisses you, giving you full, hard thrusts, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

Suddenly, it hits you. Like an ignition of fire your brain goes white and you feel yourself ascend to euphoria.

“You gonna cum baby?" he coos into your hear, pressing light kisses on the hollow of your neck. "fuck, cum for me baby, please, cum on me."  His hand flew between your bodies to rapidly rub your clit back and forth, hurtling you towards your orgasm. Your pussy tightens so hard around his cock that he nearly has to stop his thrusts. Your mouth grows lax as you feel yourself splitting in two, coming with his cock buried deep inside you. 

“That’s it,” He fucks you through your orgasm, pouring every ounce of his strength into chasing his own high. His thrusts became sloppy, hips stuttering before he stilled his hips flushed against yours, burying himself in your creamy cunny.

“Fuck fuck fuck FUCK!”

His grip tightened significantly, a loud moan of your name slipping from his lips as his own orgasm washed over him, coming so hard he sees white. But he's not done.

Before you could recover, Suguru rolls you onto your back, in doggy, and slips into you. After the first thrust he has to hold still for a second, knowing that if he kept moving, if he gave himself up to the exquisite tightness, the heat, he would burst inside you again. But the moment of rest only lasts for a second. He resumes his brutal pace, pumping himself in and out of you. 

You are wetter then ever down there, there is no longer friction only the mind-numbing pleasure of his tip hitting your cervix again and again. 

There is no warning when he cums inside you again, you only know when you feel his cum drip down your thigh.

"Feel so good, you feel so good baby."

You're in heaven right now. Your mind has gone to a different space detached from this world. Every time Suguru pushes into you, his tip of his dick rubbed perfectly against the gummy spot in you that made your whole body shake.

“Fuckkkk… I’ll fill you up, make you a mommy, you’d like that wouldn’t you… shit.”

All you can do is dumbly nod as you felt the crescendo of your euphoria building and building. It was so hot, your skin was radiating heat and before you could say anything you were tumbling toward the end faster then you could put a stop to it.

“S’feels weird~” you babble, too fucked dumb to properly pronunciate words. 

“Oh yeah? What does it feel like?” He coos, grabbing either side of your hips harder to fuck himself into you from your behind.

“Like m’gonna pee I don’t-hah-” something was pressing down on your stomach and it was overtaking your body; too fast to put a stop to it. You started to shake, abdomen clenching and mouth going into the lock jaw, tongue rolling out as you squirted clear juices everywhere.

“Oh f- good girl" He says through a groan, not stopping for a second as your pussy fluttered and clenched around him.

[amplexadversary]

I have finally finished going through my Critical Role tag!

That's 128 pages of fixed tags, once I cleaned up unnecessary duplicate posts, and now it should be pretty easy to navigate. Everything that's tied to a campaign is either CR1, CR2, CREXU, or CR3, and everything else has a cast member's name tagged.

Characters now have only one tag per character, stuff involving most or all of a party is now tagged as the party (Vox Machina, TM9, Bells Hells), and I have tags for CR NPCs, CR Guests, and CR Setting. So if I forget what tag I used for someone, I can go into one of the above and find a post about them pretty quickly.

I have about a million more fandoms to go through and do this for but I'm confident that with one exception (Pokemon) each individual one of those is going to be a much shorter task.

[logansbaby]

Worst Logan is probably so touch starved

oh absolutely!!!!! thank you wonderful anon for sharing bc you’ve inspired this tiny drabble <3 extremely short but completely spurred on by my need to hug worst logan ty!

no warnings! just one use of slut by wade (ofc)

word count - around 1k

also, the song hear you me by jimmy eat world kept coming to me during this so! vibes maybe?

˚｡⋆⟡♡⟡⋆｡˚

Logan Howlett hates physical touch.

He hates the way people often go about trying to touch him, whether it be a brief tangle of fingers or a simple hug, he hates it.

He’s not entirely sure where it’s stemmed from, especially considering that as a younger man, he didn’t mind it. Maybe it’s because of the fact that people he cared for were always too far out of reach, leaving him a swirling mess filled with the aches that follow with unrequited feelings. Or, maybe its the fact that once he’d begun to open up to the people he considered family, he’d failed to protect them, only left to ruin their legacy with his destructive, lethal grief.

The reason doesn’t matter, not really, because he’s okay with being alone, nursing copious amounts of whisky shots to numb his loud thoughts.

His plan of rotting away in a bar alone goes to shit the minute Wade shows up and drags him into the shit show he’d landed himself in.

And somehow, after everything settles down, he finds himself stuck in a new universe, living with far too many bodies in Wade's apartment. He wonders why he stayed to begin with, especially with the way Wade pisses him off like no other, but he knows. In the back of his mind, he knows that the group of people he’s come to know have weaseled their way inside his guarded heart. Knowing doesn’t make it any easier to accept, though.

The red masked man often tells him he needs to get laid, get up and find someone to fix his grumpy, brooding act he has going on if he’s not going to let Wade do it himself (his words, not Logan’s).

And whenever he presses too much, Logan’s claws will unsheathe with that unmistakable snikt! before they dig into whatever limb of Wade’s is closest.

People had caught on very early that Logan dislikes physical contact, so it’s an unspoken rule by everyone to not push the man. Well, everyone except Wade— the man has been impaled by adamantium far too many times and never learns. That, or he just likes the pain a little too much.

So, it comes to a surprise to everyone when Logan doesn’t yell at you, sink his claws into a nearby surface in warning, or growl when you wrap the man in a hug the first time you meet him.

It’s at some party thrown by Wade— purely an excuse for the man to see Vanessa under the guise of a celebration for his newest hair system— or whatever the fuck he’d rambled on about, Logan wasn’t listening.

He’d been on his way out, the ghost taste of whisky tingling his tongue as he plans to waste away at the closest bar, when he catches a glimpse of something akin to an angel.

That something is you.

You— in all your pretty glory, a beacon of light that glows through the entirety of the dull apartment with just a single smile. Hair frames your face with wisps that kiss rosy-painted cheeks as you laugh at something someone says. A floral dress sits atop of curves that will absolutely haunt his nights. The scent of you tickles his heightened senses— a swirl of vanilla and honey so sweet that he suppresses a groan.

Logan believes then and there you’re a princess, an angel, something ethereal and enchanting. He wonders then why you’re friends with Wade.

He’s already speechless at the sight of you, wrapped up in thoughts, that he doesn’t realize you’re suddenly in front of him until an obnoxious voice startles him from the depths of his mind.

“Peanut! How could you leave without saying hi to sweetness here? Horribly rude if you ask me.”

Under any normal circumstance, Logan would’ve growled at the man before him, followed by a string of curses. However, he’s too occupied with his body thrumming at the sudden proximity and closeness to you.

“Hi!”

Of course, it makes sense that your voice matches your looks; sweet and syrupy with an addictive lilt.

Before he can utter a poorly spoken sentence, his body goes rigid, every muscle within him immediately tense as an unfamiliar weight is on him.

“Oh, peaches, you don’t want to do that, Wolvie isn’t much of a hugger—“ Wade’s warning comes too late, given the fact that you’re already wrapped around the man frozen in place.

And in an instant, the entire room is silent, because everyone here has witnessed Logan’s distaste when being touched, usually at the hands of Wade.

Logan’s body tingles with how still he is— waiting for that awful feeling to consume every bit of him at the touch of another.

Except, the feeling never comes.

Oblivious, your arms squeeze Logan’s waist as you hug him tightly, head resting against his chest, where his heart hammers maddeningly.

Why is he resisting the urge to bury his nose in your hair?

“I just want to say thank you. I don’t know how you did it, Wade won’t tell me. But I know you saved this universe and I couldn’t be more grateful!”

And, what?

He's confused. You’re speaking to him like you’ve known him your whole life, and he’s not used to this. He’s familiar with people regarding him with disgust or poorly conceived opinions, not this.

“I love my life, truly! My sweet little dog, my friends, my bakery, I couldn’t imagine it being taken away quicker than a breath, so thank you, Logan. Thank you so much!”

Genuine gratefulness coats your rambled words; it’s s then Logan realizes that you’ve pulled back, though your hands still rest causally on his hips, a kind smile gracing your face.

It also dawns on him that the dreaded feeling that often follows people touching him never came Instead, a pleasant tingle kisses the skin that your hands and body touched. Logan has never been more perplexed in his life.

The feel of you is taken away promptly, Wade yanking your body away from his and pulling you to his chest.

“Sorry sweetness, but Logan isn’t known for his love for hugs. He doesn’t like people touching him, it doesn’t end well. And, considering you’re you, I prefer you alive and healthy, not being turned into a human kabob.”

And at that, you feel horror fill you up, your heart sinking, face flushing.

Because oh my gosh, you never would have done that if you had known! but why did you anyway?! you always acted without thought and clearly it had caught up with you!

“I’m so, so unbelievably sorry! I— I didn’t mean to cross boundaries or make you uncomfortable! I’m so—“ before you can ramble yourself into further embarrassment, a deep voice cuts you off.

“S’okay.”

The words are simple, quick. Yet, the delivery of them shakes every person in the room to their core. The implication isn’t to be missed— Logan has never reacted that way to being touched before.

It’s quiet— the room watching with curiosity pooling their eyes and you’re filled to the brim with mortification. And then, the silence is gone when Wade gasps dramatically.

“Peanut, I’m hurt! I thought we had something special, I’ve been playing the long game. And now that’s ruined because some slut stole you away? With a hug? No offense, angel face, but I’m feeling catty.”

His nonsense snaps you out of your head and you roll your eyes, muttering a ‘shut up!’ before focusing on Logan’s face, the man currently glaring at Wade’s face.

“Logan, I’m so sorry. I really am—“

“Don’t worry about it.” He says, but what he really wants to say is please don’t be, your hug felt like home and didn’t make me feel sick for the first time in a long, long time.

You smile, weariness still present. The way your pretty lips stretch into a tiny grin, at him no less, he knows he’s got to get out of there, or he’ll spiral.

You’re about to speak again, but he can’t stop himself from following his instincts. He doesn’t say anything else before practically running out the door, his breath only releasing once he's out of your presence.

And while the man is gulping down numbing alcohol, mind a whirlwind of confusion at himself and youyouyou, the apartment is loud due to Wade having a breakdown.

“—Seriously! I get a claw to the stomach anytime I get to close but you waltz in and suddenly Logan is all for touch? I feel cheated on.”

“Wade, you’re completely overreacting. Maybe you should’ve warned me! I made a complete idiot of myself!” You huff, pacing the tiny living room to expel the anxiety coiling in your abdomen.

“No, baby. The only idiot is me for thinking he’d want me back!” Wade whines, dramatic as usual, and throws himself onto the couch, a move that lands himself in Vanessa’s lap. The woman pats his head in fake sympathy.

“Wade! Shut up, oh my god! He’s never gonna talk to me again!”

And unknowingly, both Logan and you are worrying yourselves sick about that damn hug and the spark that spread from your heart to his.

And maybe, just maybe, Logan doesn’t hate touch after all.

[angelic--kitty]

dilf arlecchino stretching out a virgin reader on her fat cock

dom!dilf arlecchino x sub!fem reader

warnings: smut (minors/ageless blogs dni), wlw content, transfem!arlecchino, virgin!reader, age-gap (arle is in her late 30s, reader is in her early 20s), size kink, fingering, penetration, handjob

a/n: tagging my favorite silly @myfriendscallmebun who i hope enjoys this ♡ this is so long

she first hired you merely as a form of entertainment for her children. someone eager to please who wouldn't require such a large salary. someone who, at least, would never ask someone like her for more than she offered.

it's a surprising decision, on her end, to select a college girl to watch over her precious children. though, you presented yourself so nicely at the interview, and your references and resume did you well.

besides, it might be nice for the children to be around someone closer to their age for a change. they often spent time with arlecchino herself and occasionally her coworkers.

and, you had grown on her.

it's been nearly two months since you started working for her, and a few weeks since you began passing flirtatious remarks to one another.

the thing that finally melted her heart was an evening she worked late. she was already irritated her children would be asleep when she got home, but she felt guilty making you stay hours late at her home.

much to her surprise (and inner delight), when she came home, she found the children tucked into their beds, and you standing so sweetly at the door.

you had slipped her jacket off, hanging it up and tugging her into the kitchen. sure enough, you had saved her a plate of the spaghetti you made, along with a glass of her favorite red wine.

that was the day when she finally asked you to accompany her on a proper date.

and, now, here you are, standing in front of your mirror, fussing with your dress and jewelry. the dress she had bought for you special for tonight. it was black, falling just below your knees- rather classy for someone so young.

20 minutes. in 20 minutes she was picking you up.

nervous as you were, you couldn't believe you were going on a date with her. especially to somewhere so expensive and exclusive.

it was some sort of upscale bar with expensive alcohol and food. somewhere arlecchino claimed to frequent often when she needed alone time.

you almost broke out into laughter when she admitted she hired childe, her younger coworker, for the evening to watch her children.

"oh, i'm not concerned for my childrens' safety. if anything, he should be afraid for his own." was her reply, a small smirk on her lips that you nearly missed.

she lead you into the restaurant with confidence, turning heads, eliciting whispers as she kept her hand on the small of your back while the waiter brought you to your table.

"what do you think so far?" she asked, her wine glass already being filled, no need to speak her order.

"it's...definitely different than what i'm used to. but it's really nice. i like having an excuse to dress up a little." you smile at her and she raises her glass to her lips.

"i want to spoil you for the evening. for not only treating my children so well, but because you are an exceptional woman. i only hope my gestures come off as genuine as i intend." she sips her wine, setting it down to begin rambling to you about the menu.

but you're not quite listening, distracted by her hands, her lips, her eyes. how could someone be so perfect?

she's quite a bit older than you, probably much more experienced. does she truly feel the same way you do? and-

"sweetheart?" she breaks you from your thoughts and you stiffen up.

"i'm sorry- i'm listening!" you squeak, but she sees right through you.

although, she finds it rather cute. she's noticed before, obviously. your wandering eyes, the way you bite your lip when she picks up something heavy like it's nothing, or how your thighs press together when she takes a stern tone.

she simply wants to know the depths of your affection for her. after all, she has similar thoughts of you.

"which dish would you like then?" she asks pointedly, allowing you to hold the menu with shaky hands.

"ah...um..." the words blur together, not registering. "what do you recommend?"

she tilts her head, taking the menu back. "allow me to order for you then."

you like when she takes control. she knows what she wants, and she will have it. you wish it a quality you embodied more, though she fascinates you. it is almost natural to her.

dinner goes rather smoothly, and you get to taste test a few different wines, but not nearly enough to get you even remotely tipsy.

"i much prefer coherent company." her lips quirk up as she says this, and you laugh behind your hand.

she's funny, you admit. her dry humor is one of your favorite things about her.

it's a shame when dinner comes to an end, but you two mutually draw it out as long as you can. you share a dessert, and plenty of good conversation about yourselves. you learn things about her you never would've thought, and likewise for her.

the ride back to your place is just as pleasant, though you feel nervous inside. you want to make a move. you want to ask her to come inside. to stay...

but you couldn't possibly. that would be absurd... right?

regardless, she walks you in, ensuring you get into your place safely. she's a gentleman in how she holds your bags and all the doors at every stop.

the little bit of wine in your system has you feeling bold, stopping her in her tracks before she could put her shoes back on. "wait! why... don't you stay for a little? i could make us some tea. herbal! so you won't...uh... be awake all night."

she merely tilts her head, nodding either way. she listens to your rambling about the tea and the coffee mugs you have, her eyes wandering your walls when she sees familiar art.

"did the children draw these?" she interrupts, taking one off the wall.

it's a rather rudimentary stick-figure drawing, but she can tell who each one represents. this is one of lynette's drawings. she's drawn herself with pretty blue bows, along with her brothers, and, of course, their father.

and you.

there you are, standing on the other side as if you were the mother to complete their family portrait.

"oh- those? yeah, the kids drew them for me... i thought they were really cute, so i kept them." you smile and her heart flutters.

she skims her fingers over the papers, pausing when she sees one from freminet. he's drawn a flower field of green scribbles and rainbow dots, the children playing on a swingset while you and arlecchino watch.

with the words 'mom' and 'dad' written above your heads.

she can hear you nervously talking to fill the silence, and she turns to you. "they really do seem to enjoy having you around." she murmurs. "as do i."

you look up at her, feeling her lean in, gently holding your waist. "am i being too forward?" she asks, breath fanning over the side of your face as you shiver.

"not at all-" you breathe out, trembling as she lifts your chin gently. she can see your anticipation.

"you're not phased by our gap in experience?" she asks. "it's inevitable. i cannot change it, but i do not want you to feel forced."

"i actually like it. i really like it." you blurt, catching her off guard.

"oh?" her voice is low, sultry as she cups your jaw. "is this alright with you, then?"

"please-" and that's all she needs to connect your lips, kissing you so softly at first. her tongue gently prods for entrance, and she can instantly tell you truly are inexperienced.

she pulls away, gently swiping a thumb over your cheek. "is this your first time?"

"you could tell?" you groan, and she nearly melts.

"it is not shameful to wait. i only want you to be sure this is what you want." she explains, stroking your cheek as your eyes flutter shut.

"i want you. please? i want you to take it." you leave it open for interpretation, but she knows exactly what you're referring to.

"if you're certain, then i'd be honored, sweetheart." she says so gently you'd think she was someone else.

you bring her to your room, cringing at the mess. "i know it isn't what you're used to but mmph-!" you whimper when she kisses you, pulling you onto her lap on the bed.

she trails kisses down your neck, watching you tilt your head back instinctively. you pant, overwhelmed so quickly she almost feels guilty.

keyword: almost.

instead, it makes her twitch within the confines of her expensive suit slacks.

her hand tangles into the back of your hair, tugging you firmly so she can nip at your jaw. she takes it slow, easing you into things until you're practically begging her to go further.

your dress slides off slowly, a treat waiting when she sees the pretty matching lingerie set beneath. it's white and lacy, delicate, something she could easily tear right off, and it drives her mad.

"aren't you full of surprises? naughty ones at that." she tuts, squeezing your jaw as you gasp.

she unclips the bra, her gently squeezing your breasts as you moan for her.

she teases your nipples until they go pert, wrapping her tongue around them as you arch up into her.

you're being vulnerable with her; she knows this much. she holds you steady, ensuring you feel safe on her lap before pulling away with a soft 'pop.'

she unbuttons her shirt, tugging it off to match you. she watches your eyes go wide, eager yet embarrassed as she tosses her bra aside with the shirt.

"you're so...pretty." you gasp quietly, eyes wide.

"you can touch me, sweetheart." she pulls your hand to her chest, allowing you to explore. your fingers clumsily rub her nipples and she grunts, guiding them into place.

"does it feel good?" you ask her so hesitantly, and she kisses the top of your head.

"you're doing well." she watches your gaze slide down, eyeing the growing bulge in her pants. she dryly grunts, lifting your chin up. "something catch your eye?"

"i... i'm sorry- i didn't mean to stare-" your words are mumbled, your face hot as your mouth goes dry.

"you're curious. that's alright." she brushes a thumb over your lips, coaxing you to open up.

she slides her thumb over your tongue, gently easing it a little further until you gag, keeping you just like that. your eyes are so wide and pretty, glazed over with untapped lust.

she hums thoughtfully before withdrawing, using the thumb to brush over the front of your panties. you gasp, thighs snapping shut as she pushes them back apart.

she lightly smacks your thigh. "keep them open." she rubs gentle circles on your clothed clit, your body clearly unsure how to react. she can see it doesn't take much to bring you to the edge, and she lightens her touch, able to control her own desires with ease.

her hand comes back to your lips, sliding your wetness over your tongue while her free hand slides your panties to the side.

something you've missed before, but she's filed her nails down on this hand. just for you, though only she knew that.

she gently slides her fingers through your folds, hearing you whimper and squirm on her lap. she tucks your head under her chin while she eases a finger into you, feeling you squeeze so tight around just one digit.

she gives you time to adjust, feeling you clutch her wrist. you're such an angel, aren't you? holding so tightly to her, so cute, all while you fidget right above her confined cock, inevitably making her grow harder.

her second finger slides in slowly, with an intent to stretch you out enough to take her cock more comfortably. she curls them inside of you, hearing you whine loudly into her neck.

"ah- that feels-!" you squeal when she brushes against your g-spot. her finger pads rub into it, and you tremble, thighs clamping down on her hand.

"relax." she reminds you, pumping her fingers in and out, slick sounds filling the air. she stretches you out every so often, spreading her fingers slightly and hearing you whimper so sweetly.

your hand clumsily rests on her bulge and her fingers still as she inhales sharply.

"i... want to- try and make you feel good too..." you whisper, looking up at her.

and who is she to deny such a sweet girl?

she pops open the button, unzipping her pants and freeing her cock, allowing you to see her.

your eyes go comically wide, shocked by the size. "that's... i-"

she can feel your walls fluttering around her fingers and she nearly moans. "it's alright. don't be nervous." she practically reads your mind, soothing your concerns as her free hand unwraps itself from your body, collecting some of the messy slick from your thighs, sliding it over herself.

"you haven't done this before, i presume?" she's met with a shake of your head. she proceeds to guide your hand in wrapping around her cock. she hisses through her teeth. "archons-" she groans lowly, her fingers resuming their gentle in and out motions while she guides you to stroke her cock.

"tighter." she tells you, feeling your hand grip more firmly, her pre-cum oozing over your hand, spreading across her cock. "good girl-" she praises and you clench around her fingers once more.

she says nothing, but she knows exactly how her words affect you. such a sweet little thing you are, curled up on her lap, fingers stuffed inside of you while your hand wraps around her cock.

her hand covers yours still, dwarfing your hand and guiding you into her preferred rhythm. "that's it. you're doing well-" she tips her head back, hips grinding into your hand as she lets go.

she allows you to move your hand on your own, finger-fucking you faster. she knows you're losing focus, too overwhelmed by your own need to cum, though she doesn't mind too much. you're just so sweet with how your moans pick up in volume, your eyes closing as your hips chase her hand.

"go on." she tells you, her voice stern as you release around her digits like such a good girl for her.

she slides her fingers out, admiring the webbed slick coating them, cleaning them in her own mouth as you shyly hide in her chest.

she pulls you away, laying you on the bed. "wait! you didn't get to..."

she shakes her head, pushing her hair back. "hush." she simply says, spreading your thighs, pushing them up to your chest. it exposes you perfectly, allowing you to feel shy, yet unable to cover yourself as she studies your twitchy cunt.

arlecchino uses one hand to guide herself through your slick, sensitive folds, gathering the remnants of your orgasm. she is gentle when she slides into you for the first time, a thumb on your stiff, swollen clit to ease the stretch.

she watches your eyebrows furrow, nose crinkling as she stretches you out. "so big-" you whine, chest arching up against her own.

your moans are melodies to her, feeling you flutter around her was like heaven. she lifts you up to sit on her lap while she leans back, guiding you to slowly take more of her in.

"too much!" you whine, looking down.

"you haven't taken all of me yet." she hushes you, easing you down to swallow her all in your pussy until you're mewling incoherently.

"full-" your head falls back and she grabs your hips, her nails leaving sharp little indents as she guides you to shallowly fuck yourself on her cock.

"such a pretty little thing." she coos, slowly growing more harsh, grinding up into you.

and, oh, you sing for her the rougher she gets. you urge her to grow bolder, now using your body as a toy while you desperately try to match her tempo.

you're inexperienced, but oh, so eager to please, aren't you? what a good girl.

she grabs your ass, fucking you on her cock while you keep a vice grip, your tits bouncing with each thrust. "oh- archons!" you squeal.

arlecchino picks you up like you weigh nothing at all, settling you beneath her instead, fucking into you with boundless energy.

she knows the right spots to fuck, where and how to grind herself into a woman, she knows exactly when to speed up and slow down. yet it seems you don't even know your own body fully.

and the thought of helping you explore with her is enough to have her twitching inside of you.

your incessant mewling and moaning of her name is driving her mad for you. her hand wraps around your throat, earning her breathless gasps as she urges you to cum for her.

"be a good little pet and cum." she orders, slick sounds penetrating the air, the smell of sex coating you both. "cum for me."

she rubs your clit harshly, watching you shake as you do cum, tightening up around her cock, sending her eyes rolling back into her head.

the moment you loosen up, she pulls out, cumming onto your tummy, creating a filthy mess as she moans deeply for you.

"fuck..." she sighs, squeezing her cock to ease the rest of her cum onto your skin.

you pant, looking up at her. your eyes are blown wide, but you look exhausted as you lay limply beneath her.

and, well, you'll soon learn her cock may need time to recover, but her mouth and fingers certainly don't...

[8housevenus]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ placements that feel like a fairytale ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

🧚pisces venus - "i've walked with you once upon a dream," such an exceptional place for venus and a very good lover. thoughtful and remembers little things about somebody. gives even when they have nothing. venus is exalted here, which strengthens the power of venus. rosed-colored glasses, natural lovers. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚neptune in 1st/2nd/7th/9th - 1st/ dreamy appearance, "i wish i could look like you," "i don't know if i wanna be you or be with you," wins people over, sometimes unaware of their influence, stands out in a room full of people. 2nd/ "you sound so sweet," delicate voices, gives the best compliments or receives unique compliments, gets money for no reason or gives money for no reason, very questionable kind of person but it is a likable feature about them. 7th/ unpredictable in love, "tag you're it," loves the chase and the longevity of a new/fresh relationship. people wish they could be with you or have had dreams/thoughts of pursuing you. sometimes people might drop many hints but never say. 9th/ super underrated, people feel elevated in your energy, you bring out a new lens to others, your ability to change and only get better overtime seems super unreal. the type to go mia and then randomly appear in a fancy italian restaurant with 1 million dollars and a rich spouse. they think it and it is, very big planners and attractive to the outside. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚sun in 5th/7th - 5th/ their love is their passion, and their self-expression is one that is bold and unique. this is your "entertainer," placement, understands the role they play in this life. courageous in their love and give an experience that one will never have again. 7th/ people-person, revolves around being open-minded and naturally attracting friends, partners, and even some enemies. a very commendable individual. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚libra/taurus rising - the symbols of beauty and allurance. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚cancer sun - exudes a tender warmth to others. "wifey material, mom friend, therapist," has probably heard it all. cancer sun has seen the vulnerability of everybody they have met, there's a strong trust here and their strength is undeniable. think of fairy godmother. has an emotional depth that allows others to easily fall for them. double points if it is a man with a cancer sun; women will admire this difference about you from other men. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚libra moon - pretty when you cry, everyone stops to hear you talk, such a mediating and magnetic energy, wears their heart on their sleeve and can empathize very well with others they have nothing in common with. all about fairness and equity, wants to be the peacekeeper in most situations. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚venus in 11th/2nd/7th - 11h/ friends will admire you and pick up on your aesthetic and can even try to "become" the same way. you make people feel really good and you are inspiring. 2nd/ you are well kept and seem orderly. soft voice, soft appearance, and loves to smother themselves and others with little gestures. 7th/ ideal partner placement, looking for love in everything they do, has very good connections and dazzles their flirt onto everybody they meet. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚personal planets in 4, 7, 12, 16, 19, 24, 27 degrees - these are libra, cancer, and pisces degrees, can amplify these placements by sprinkling on some of these signs qualities. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚neptune conjunct/ trine sun - dreamy-esque, can't keep you off my mind, is it love is it lust? naturally charming and independent. knows how they make others feel, giving others a sense of hope that makes them cling on forever. usually, the favorite boy or girl for somebody. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚venus conjunct moon/neptune - awareness to what relationships might require, or what other people want out of you. knows how to express themselves properly, can be sweet/seductive one minute, then manipulative/moody the next. likes to change up their style for their partner; very intimate and puts their partner's needs first. will be super feminine for their loved one. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚midheaven conjunt/trine/sextile neptune or venus - enhanced beauty in the public eye. people want to be around you and there's maybe some type of distance between you and your lovers- which makes relationships so much more intriguing. "i've got my eye on you." these people love makeup, jewelry, skin care, anything to appear ideal. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚virgo midheaven - seen as a damsel in distress sometimes; but they are elegant and reserved. they are the ones that people usually rely on and open up to the fastest. their fairytale qualities come from how they act rather than how they speak. they will make sure you are covered and will attract you with their practicality and realness. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚virgo venus - has a purified perception of love, very service oriented and even shy. they are slow and steady in terms of love language, however a virgo venus will always make sure their partner only gets the best. they want to make everything perfect for their significant other, which makes the virgo venus placement seem so admirable. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚cancer venus - soft, sweet, and giving. full of the feminine and embodies the nurturer archetype. magnetic to the opposite sex; babe magnet, and usually wear pastel colors or colors that are bright. they don't like to make themselves unknown to the idea of love. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚moon/neptune in 5th - has such a childlike approach to the world, very full of nostalgia and is deep-rooted in being memorable for others. oftentimes moon in 5th has a dramatized identity about themselves, which gives the fairytale vibes because it can feel almost surreal. neptune can also have this affect, neptune 5th might always get "i wish you were here," or "where's so and so," very memorable and such sweet and delicate impressions to the public. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

🧚sun in 9th - would take their partners through all kinds of experiences, the kind of people to take you higher and change your mind-set on various subjects. very underrated placement and i find it quite fairy-tale like due to the fact that there's always some form of expansion for these individuals and you can see and feel their inner glow when they are in new environments. usually, can have foreigners or various kinds of people fall for them, they quite literally shine in new horizons. 🌷 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀

thank you for reading <3

[ckret2]

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him. 

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle. 

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old. 

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle  wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief. 

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

[ryescapades]

*ੈ‧₊༺ “SHE’S BEEN DANCING WITH THE DEVIL ALL NIGHT,”

— a casual night out at a party turns wild when you come face to face with a masked man.

characters: ghostface!itoshi rin (bllk) x fem!reader contents: nsfw mdni !!! mention of drinking, unprotected p in v seggs, mutual + guided masturbation, slight oral fixation, a bit of choking, mirror seggs, dirty talk, creampie, college setting, hint of jealous!rin, swearing, reader wears a skirt

a/n: i didn't write this btw. my inner demon did. (blaming lumi for sending me that ghostface fanart of rin) 2k wc

you feel him before you can even see him.

it’s heavy and persistent, the weight of his gaze pricking the back of your neck like dry needles, except it’s making your muscles lock up tighter, not supposedly the other way around. you look around, eyes roving over the boisterous crowd and taking in the sight of some of them dressed in costumes in some way or the other.

halloween had already ended, but there are people still in the festive mood, it seems.

your roommate had invited you to this huge college party at someone’s house, and with nothing to do with your time seeing as the midterms season just finished, you had agreed to come along. you thought the hang out would only consist of a few chats and drinks with friends, maybe a dance or two, the night ending with you going back home probably drunk and alone.

you just didn’t think some random guy would immediately take interest in you the minute you slid up to the makeshift bar.

reluctantly, you force yourself to focus on the conversation in front of you, barely taking in what the guy is saying. you can’t even remember what his name is and the department he’s from.

jirou… from the medic course? you think? you don’t know anymore. and frankly, you don’t care. you’re pretty sure he was flirting with you - still is, in fact. but again, you’re just not listening. not when as soon as the guy started talking, he appeared in the corner of your eye.

silent yet deadly imposing, he towers over most of the people here like he owns the place. clad in a black hoodie and equally dark pants, he looks almost out of place with those casual clothes, if not for the ghostface mask he adorns.

goosebumps prickle on your arms when you accidentally glance at the inky depths of the eyes on the mask.

“hey, you listening?” jirou’s voice takes you by surprise, and the glass of fruit gin your roommate had graciously requested for you almost slips out of your hand from your flinch, making the cold liquid inside to splash out to your hand.

“shit, sorry! i didn’t mean to startle you—“ jirou panics, but you’re already shaking your head and waving your hand off as you rise from your seat. “no, you’re good. i just - uh, i’ll be right back,” you lie through teeth.

you’d rather spend the next hour rereading the materials for your previous tests than listen to him talk for another minute, if you’re being honest. swiftly making your way to the washroom, you sigh wistfully at your lack of luck in getting a good new company tonight.

you don’t get far, unfortunately.

out of nowhere, there is a hand taking a hold on your elbow, causing you to let out a shriek as you’re being pulled into an empty room. the door closes, your back pressing against it as the culprit of said hand looms over you.

it’s the man from earlier. the one whose gaze had been burning holes in the back for your head from across the room. your body turns rigid, unnerved at the ghostface mask he’s wearing. “it’s you,” you whisper.

he doesn’t say anything, but his hand reaches up to your face, cradling your jaw with his fingers as his thumb places itself on your lip. your pulse quickens when he gently traces the seam of your mouth, pressing onto the plush cushion.

words instantly die on your tongue the moment he uses the same hand to hold yours— the one still sticky from the alcohol from earlier— and brings it to your lips. your breath hitches at the insinuation. “wh-what…”

without any warning, the masked man pushes your middle and ring fingers in, breaching past your lips and into your mouth. a muffled sound rips out from you, one that takes both you and him by surprise.

holy shit, did you just pathetically whimper from having your own fingers shoved into your mouth? yes. yes, you did.

sweet and tangy tinges from the gin hit your tastebuds, and something inside you flares up then. the man lets out a hiss, palming his erection with his free hand when you swirl your tongue around and in between your fingers, taking them deeper into your mouth as your lashes flutter from your own action.

there’s a hushed curse, and suddenly you’re being shoved onto the bed in the middle of the room. you don’t fight it. you don’t even want to.

desire pools deep in your core, your body alighting from the sensitized nerves. you can feel yourself getting hotter, the growing wetness between your thighs making your panties feel uncomfortable to be in.

“hands and knees,” your breath stutters at the voice, pussy clenching around nothing as you move to obey his command. you’re doing something wrong, however, when he audibly clicks his tongue. “lower,” he says.

you bite down on your lip, finally understanding before you descend lower, your head laying on the bed and hips lifting in the air as you nervously fist on the sheets below you.

you feel so… exposed. vulnerable. and yet you’re so pitifully turned on you don’t know what to make of yourself.

shivering as his hands drops to your hips, he pulls your skirt further up to bare your ass for his eyes to see. he teases the hem of your soiled panties before tugging them down your thighs, cursing low under his breath at the sight of your wet, dripping cunt.

“play with yourself,” he instructs. swallowing down the nerves, you bring the fingers you’d sucked on earlier to your pussy, tentatively rubbing at your folds as more slickness seeps out from you.

you let out a small whine when you hear the clinging of his belt behind you. “faster,” he orders, and you do. your pussy clenches again, whimpering into the sheets as your fingers get more coated with your sticky wetness.

you can hear him breathing heavily, and you know he’s stroking himself at the sight of you. shoulders rigid against the bed, you desperately want to turn around, to see how he looks like, how his dick looks like.

“please…” you whisper. you almost rejoice then, when you feel the bed dips on both side, his knees appearing beside your own. “god, you’re so soaked i could just push it right in,” he groans.

and that’s what he’s planning to do.

grabbing both of your arms, he pulls you up to lean back against his chest, the soft material of his hoodie a contrast to the hard, throbbing cock against your back. the audible dreamy sigh you're trying to hold back feels fatally difficult after feeling the sheer size of him.

goddamn, he’s gonna make you feel so fucking full.

he rests his head beside yours, bare muscled thighs caging yours in between. “look up,” his voice enters your ears. you bring your gaze up out of mild confusion, and the gasp he elicits out of you is not just out of surprise.

right as you lift your head, he plunges his cock straight into your awaiting hole, straight away hitting the deepest part of you. what you didn’t expect however, is the mirror that sits adjacent to the bed, reflecting the obscene view of you getting railed by a ghostface from behind.

“f-fuck!” your sweet little cry causes his cock to twitch inside, a rough grunt ripping out from his throat. he barely gives you time to accommodate to his size - then again you don’t think you need any. you’re already dripping so much that his dick can easily mold your pussy to the shape of him.

“you’re so tight,” he starts thrusting in and out, cock dragging against your insides in the most delicious way. the needy moan you let out is high-pitched, a keening sound that echoes around the room.

“you love getting fucked like this, huh? love getting ruined by masked men?” he sneers through clenched teeth, one of his arms reaching to hold you captive by the throat and the other slipping under your shirt to keep a possessive hold around your waist.

zaps of pleasure form at the base of your spine, your toes curling from the pure desire coursing through you. your filthy, desperate noises only grow louder when he picks up the pace, bullying his cock into your cunt just as desperately.

“pleasepleaseplease—“ you sob through the tightening of his lithe fingers around your throat, clamping down on him as you choke on the slight lack of air.

you grip onto his forearm like it’s your lifeline, back arching as you can feel yourself getting into the precipice of your climax. the sound of skin slapping against skin bounces off the walls, the loud squelching of your pussy sending your mind into overdrive.

your eyes become heavily lidded, but you hold yourself back from closing them as you both continue to watch in the mirror, the unsettling look of the ghostface mask only adding to the tingling in your stomach.

“that’s it, baby. look at you. so pretty, so perfect,” he murmurs against your ear, clearly enjoying the debauched expression on your face. “gonna fucking destroy this pussy till you cum so hard around my cock, yeah? not even that pathetic excuse of a guy downstairs can wreck you as bad as i do,"

“yes, yes, only you, please wanna cum - mmnghfuck, please,” you slur, incoherent babbles beginning to fill your mouth as the the coil in your stomach draws taut.

he’s hitting all the right spots inside you, ones you didn’t even know existed, and the glimpse of the creamy ring around the base of his cock in the mirror from how much you’re gushing only gets you closer and closer to the edge.

his hand presses deeper into the soft dip of your waist, hints of red dents making their way onto your skin as he slams into you harder and faster. soon enough, the tightening in your gut snaps, your body trembling in his hold with a shattered, wanton sound.

“so fucking good for me,” he growls, feeling your pussy squeeze down on him as he chases his own impending climax. a few thrusts after and he’s stilling his hips, burying himself as deep as he can with a broken moan. warmth spills inside you, filling you to the brim as your pussy clenches down to milk him for what he’s worth.

the both of you heavily pant as you’re coming down from your high, flushed red from exhaustion and icky from the sweat through your clothes plus the bodily fluids dripping down where you two are still joined together.

your eyes, clouded and hazy, trails to the mirror in front of you. chest heaving, your mind turns dizzy as you stare at the ghostface, both of his hands slowly dropping to your hips.

one second your weight is fully leaned back against him, and the next you’re suddenly thrown onto the sheets, a depraved mewl slipping past your lips when your hole is suddenly emptied, thick globs of your mixed cum freely seeping out of your pussy.

he hovers above you, and your heartbeat quickens when he promptly reaches a hand to his face, grabbing the bottom of the mask to pull it off and toss it away.

dark ivy strands and teal eyes greet you, his hand ruffling the hair to somehow fix his disheveled appearance. “rin…” you breathe out, cheeks tinting with a darker crimson.

your eyes lock, something akin to that familiar connection you’ve always had with the striker clinks into place. “i knew it was you,” you mutter.

you knew from the very first time your eyes laid on him tonight, and you’d confirmed it when he’d first uttered a word to you.

his eyes gleam under the dim light of the room, and he closes the distance between you again as he reaches down to strip himself off the hoodie, toned chest and abdomen from all his rigorous soccer training coming into view.

“good. because i’m gonna fuck you without the mask this time,”

ghostface!rin art by @/akatsuha on tt.

never posted two smuts in a row before dawg this is Not me

also not gonna elaborate on how rin even had the mask in the first place :p some ppl forced it onto him maybe (spoiler it’s bcsg)

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !