#they built up all of this just to give us nothing

[blackynsupremacy]

NEIGHBORHOOD

HOTTIE

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

cw: fluff and smut (18+ mdni)

hotneighbor!nicholas that just moved in next door to you. you heard from your neighborhood girlfriends that he was living alone, single, and utterly fuckable.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you curiously watch through the blinds of your window to see what the hype is all about. it’s definitely all true: your new neighbor was foine.

hotneighbor!nicholas whose muscles would flex as you observe him lugging the largest boxes of things he needed to unpack in such scorching weather. your thighs clench at the sight of the veins protruding on his arms. you didn’t miss the stains of perspiration forming on his pristine white tank top that outlined the toned muscles of his abdomen.

hotneighbor!nicholas who would stop whatever he’s doing when he sees you coming by with two glasses of homemade lemonade. he could use a break. plus, he thought you were a sight for sore eyes with that orange sundress, glowing melanated skin, healthy natural hair, and full glossed lips. you lived right next door, so it was only fair for him to take up your welcoming offer.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you find to be so charming. he loves the lemonade and your company. you both exchange basic information about yourselves, but he doesn’t miss the opportunity to throw some game. “if i’d known my neighbor would’ve been so beautiful, i would’ve moved a lot sooner.” he finds it cute at how bashful you get when he compliments you.

hotneighbor!nicholas who obviously asks for your number for “neighborly” reasons. you happily give it to him because it’s not everyday someone would this hot was putting the moves on you like this.

hotneighbor!nicholas who subtly watches the rhythm of your hips sway beneath that sundress after you bid him a farewell, so he could continue unpacking. he wanted to talk to you longer. he wasn’t sure how, but he wants to get close to you as possible, as soon as possible. if you catch my drift.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d send you good morning and good night texts or he’d just simply check on you. you’d tease that it should be the other way around because he’s the new neighbor and you should be the one making him feel welcome. he’d be such a flirt. you can make me feel welcome in many other ways. 😉

hotneighbor!nicholas who you see taking daily jogs through the neighborhood early in the morning when you go out to get your mail. he wears nothing, but basketball shorts, a cross necklace, and some sneakers. you melt as the sweat of body leaves a heavenly shine on his tanned skin. he’s so built, so fit, so thick. god, the things you’d do have him on top of you right now.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d ask if you like to take a jog/walk with him whenever you were available. you weren’t the exercising type, but there was no harm in it because you wanted to spend time with him anyway, so why the hell not? on those occasions, you’d get to know each other better. you’d wear a sports bra and shorts that nicholas would find to be ravishing on you, but he’d think you’ll look better without them.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d help you out with various tasks like gardening. he had a green thumb, so he was a huge help to you when you wanted to plant some fresh strawberries. you love to watch him till, dig, sow seeds, and water the fruit, so it would grow to be the reddest, ripest strawberries for picking, washing, and eating.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you invite over to your house to make treats such as strawberry shortcakes or just to dip them in chocolate sauce while streaming a show on hulu or netflix. he’d use his thumb to swipe away any whipped cream or chocolate from the corner of your lip then suck it right off in front of you while holding his intense brown gaze with yours.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d watch you from his bedroom window as you’d strip your clothes before going into the bathroom to shower. he couldn’t see your actual naked body, but he’d see the shadow of your nude silhouette outlining the shape of your breasts, the erected point of your nipples, and the curve of your hips and ass. it gets him rock hard every time and he’d have to take care of it himself.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you watch practice throwing a football in his backyard shirtless. his arms are massive. you imagine what it would feel like having them secured around your waist. he could’ve went to the pros, no question, but you’re lucky that you get to see this up close and personal instead of a loud, crowded stadium.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you go to for help when your car wouldn’t start. you didn’t mean to interrupt him as he was looking like a greek god while bench pressing what seemed to be a weight of 150-60 lbs. he doesn’t mind helping you because he knows the basics, so he comes over promptly with some tools to see what’s under the hood. you spectate as he meticulously rummages and moves within the car.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s so focused in finding the root of the issue. his brows are furrowed and he tucks his bottom lip between his teeth while his hands move like clockwork. you notice a piece of hair fall from in front of his face and he attempts to blow it out the way, but to no avail. you take it upon yourself to brush it back. he feels the lingering touch of your palm through his scalp, his mind already going to the gutter.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’d ask for you to get your car keys after he’d find the solution and close the hood. he instructs you to get in the car and start it now. once you comply, the engine is purring like normal. feeling grateful, you sing your praises to him. “let’s see you have a green thumb and you’re a skilled mechanic. is there anything else your hands are good for?” you ask, crossing your arms. he’d give you a playful lopsided smirk with a flirtatious glint within his eyes, “they could do a couple things—that’s if you’re willing to find out.” he knew exactly what he was doing.

hotneighbor!nicholas who you invite over for dinner to repay him for fixing your car. you weren’t sure if you’d see this as a date, but you still wanted to make a good impression. you do your hygiene and you’d put on a black square necked top with a long black, floral slitted skirt around your waist. you prepare a spread of your speciality dishes and bring out your best wine.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s a gentleman that shows up at your front door with flowers. he cleans up nice with a black button up that’s slightly unbuttoned to show off his signature gold cross necklace with some levi’s, dress shoes, and a rolli on his wrist. damn! you graciously take the flowers and giving him a brief hug. it was short-lived, but inhaling his clean, musky scent while he places his large palm against the slightly exposed small of your back had you feening.

hotneighbor!nicholas that enjoys every single thing that you’ve cooked for him. he’s so content in the meal, he informs you that when he settles down he hopes to have a wife that looks and cooks just as good as you. hopefully, you were picking up what he was putting down.

hotneighbor!nicholas who genuinely enjoys your company, your smile, your laughter, your humility, your confidence, your wit, your intelligence, your humor, your insight, your passion, your kindness, your empathy, your honesty, and your absolute everything.

hotneighbor!nicholas who tells you he’s now craving for dessert. oblivious to what he actually meant, you tell them there’s some leftover strawberries and chocolate sauce in the fridge, so you go to retrieve the items and go to prepare them on the counter with your back turned to him.

hotneighbor!nicholas who gets up from his seat at the table and saunters over to you to slide his large hands around your waist. a smirk rises on his lips as soon as you freeze from his touch. he bring his lips against your ear to whisper, “i’m craving something sweeter than that, doll.” he’d pull you in closer, so that the plushness of your ass would meet his hardened arousal.

hotneighbor!nicholas who peppers fiery kisses all around your neck. when you whimper out his name, it drives him to push aside whatever was in front of you on the counter. he turns your body to face him completely before hoisting you up on top, so that his lips could finally be attached to yours in a fervent kiss. your arms instantly wrap your his broad shoulders as he brings your legs around his hips while your tongues desperately swirl around another. you both had been waiting for this moment for weeks on end.

hotneighbor!nicholas who slides between the slit of your skirt to spread your thighs wider, so that he could rut his hips up against yours like an animal in heat. “you see what you fuckin’ do to me?” he rasped whenever his growing, stiff girth came in contact with your already damp center.

hotneighbor!nicholas who easily slips his hands beneath your skirt. his fingertips fidgeting with the waistband of your panties. he wants to dive straight in, but he won’t go further unless you verbally give him the green light. to him, you may be this sexy piece of ass that deserves some good dick thrown your way, but also you’re worthy of respect towards your boundaries in your house. he’s just being a good neighbor.

hotneighbor!nicholas who once he has your consent, deliberately slides your soaking underwear off for his thumb to instantly reward your clit with pressured circles. he chuckles as you beg him to delve his fingers inside of you. “damn, have a little patience, baby. m’gonna take care of you.”

hotneighbor!nicholas who wastes no time to slip his index inside just to stretch you out a little before his middle joins in the party. his thumb is still doing circles around your clit as his fingers curl and bump against the gushiness of your wet walls. with each moan of his name escaping your mouth, he gains in speed.

hotneighbor!nicholas who’s a bonafide munch. he takes his fingers away and kneels down with his head right in front of your awaiting, wet pussy. he demands that you look at him as his tongue takes a deliberate lick against your dripping slit. your hands grasp onto his head for dear life as he makes out with your pussy. his tongue may move in varying speeds and shapes around your clit. it drives you crazy when he hums while shaking his head side to side rapidly to go as deep as possible while he gets you to your high. “ah, fuck, this pussy is the best thing that’s ever happend to me—want you to cum all over my face, baby. c’mon, give it to me.”

hotneighbor!nicholas who continues to remove the rest of your clothes until you’re completely bare. he stares, mesmerized because you’re more beautiful than he could ever imagine. you reciprocate the praise after you help him out of his clothes. he finds it so sexy of how crazy you are for him. you even make the man flush with red.

hotneighbor!nicholas who already has a condom ready, but you’re on the pill and you want to feel all of him, so you let him know he’s good to go.

hotneighbor!nicholas who shudders in ecstasy as he fills you up inch by inch until his tip mingled with the edge of your cervix. he gives you a moment to properly adjust to his size before he begins to give you the immaculate strokes of his skilled hips.

hotneighbor!nicholas who has the stamina of a sexually starved madman as you go for many rounds in different parts of your house. the counter, sofa, your bed, and lastly the shower. he takes you in different positions and angles that no man has ever done with you before and he’s made you cum first each time. he could go all night, but he sees that from being so fucked out and overstimulated, he decided it was time for some proper aftercare and a goodnight’s sleep in the nude. he was by far, the best fuck you’ve ever had. what are good neighbors for?

[fear-is-truth]

imagine… being blackmailed into kai anderson’s cult.

you didn’t join willingly. kai had something on you—and used it to pull you into his cult. every day is a dangerous tightrope walk, a balance of staying in line while quietly searching for a way out. you’re considered a flight risk, and he makes sure to remind you of that fact constantly. there’s no room for negotiation. no one else in the house is an option—his men sleep in the basement, his parents’ room is sealed off (you don’t want to think about what’s in there), and winter, his sister, isn’t trusted with you, thanks to her being a lesbian and kai’s twisted views on her intentions. so, you end up in his bedroom.

sharing a bed with him is like sleeping next to a coiled spider, knowing it could strike at any moment. but he never touches you. months go by, and kai remains physically distant, though his presence in itself is overwhelming enough. he doesn’t need to lay a hand on you to make his power known—it’s in his voice, his stare. at night, you sleep stiffly on one edge of the mattress, your back turned to him, while he sprawls comfortably on the other.

you never really get used to the sight of him half naked, but kai simply doesn’t give a fuck. he’ll swagger out of the en suite, a towel hanging low around his waist, electric blue hair damp and clinging to his forehead. droplets of water still glisten on his skin, and the towel precariously hangs just below his hipbones, revealing the defined v-line of his abdomen and the rock-hard muscles flexing as he moves. it’s a body that was built to kill, to conquer.

it takes every ounce of restraint you have not to let your eyes linger too long.

“how’s your day?” he’ll ask as he reaches for the prescription bottle on the bedside table. “i’m good. you?” you’ll reply curtly. you converse like a pair of roommates who don’t really trust each other, words civil but laced with a mockery of the situation. you’re not giving him the satisfaction of seeing you crack.

but then, one morning, you wake up and realise he’s the one who’s cracked.

you freeze, heart pounding so loudly you were certain kai could hear it even in his dreams. you remember falling asleep on your side, keeping to the edge of the bed, but maybe you rolled over in your sleep, or maybe he had moved closer during the night. the warmth of his body is all around you now, arm slung loosely over your waist, huffs of warm breath against your skin. it’s so natural, so easy, that you wonder if you’ve somehow slipped back into a dream. time seems to hold its breath, waiting for you to react.

you don’t.

for a tantalising second, there’s no cult, no manipulation, no fear. just two people sharing a bed, almost like you’re lovers instead of captor and captive. but you know better. you’ve been in his world long enough to recognise when it’s time to delude yourself. later, when he wakes up, it’s as if nothing happened. he’s the same kai anderson, city councilor, cult leader. you don’t bring it up and neither does he. but the familiarity makes you unable to let go of the suspicion that it’s not the first time he’s held you in his arms.

[hemlock-dreams]

PleSe may I ask for a tiny morsel of the written word depicting bartender Petey taking care of business when some customers get too rowdy? Saw the "80s theme" and immediately thought he'd look amazing tossing out the trash (ideally covered in blood cause can't make an omelets without breaking eggs but bartenders don't tend to break faces sadly)

Here yo go! Have a snippet from the upcoming Chapter 2 of Pick Your Poison!! Hope you enjoy!!

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Wade sees Baby Boy snatch a bottle that comes flying at him out of the air without looking. 

Damn, they threw the thing at mach speed, too. Wade’s got to hand it to the kid; those are some impressive reflexes. He follows the easy catch by spinning the glass with enough flair to make a schoolgirl swoon, setting it against the bartop like he’s the main character.

The jackasses in the back don’t even notice, hauling each other over the tables in a messy, drunken sprawl. Wade hasn’t seen this much fumbling since prom night.

It’s embarrassing. He should do Weasel a favor (and indulge himself) by shooting them in the legs for interrupting plans between Wade and his future paycheck. But the look of intense concentration on Baby Boy’s face is distracting. That’s the furrowed brow of a man who is about to fuck around and find out.

Boo. Three more days and Baby Boy would have passed the cutoff mark. 

Wade usually likes hedging his bets on the underdog for the thrill, but four against one is bad odds for anyone who isn’t Deadpool, even a civvie with so many tough-guy tattoos. 

“And he was this close to being the final girl,” Wade mourns performatively, sparing a glance at Weasel to gauge how the man is feeling about the prospect of watching his civilian pet project get snapped in half. But the asshole just looks vaguely amused, which piques Wade’s interest.

So he turns back around just in time to watch Baby Boy march right into fucking around territory, straight up walking toward the group of heavily-armed mercs, no weapons, no foreplay, no nothing– just moxie.

Damn. He’s stupid. Wade likes that in a guy.

“Hey,” Baby Boy says, wrapping a hand around the leg of one wooden chair as the one with a bad haircut raises it over his head. 

Their kerfuffle is interrupted as four extremely drunk mercs with more bullets than brains pause to reorient their attention on Baby Boy.

“You know the rules. Sit down, or take it outside,” He continues, tugging on the chair like he’s trying to take it from an unruly toddler. 

There’s a collective laugh from all four bozos as they forget their beef to unionize against a new, soft, and squishy target.

“Oh yeah?” The short one smiles, revealing a row of really ugly teeth. Wade’s fist immediately itches to plant itself into that mouth, just for offending his eyes like that. “Who’s going to make us, you?” 

The edge of Baby Boy’s mouth curves, “If I have to,” he says, and it can’t be mistaken as anything but a taunt.

Bold move, Cotton. 

The rest of the bar, normally oblivious to a few broken pieces of furniture and some blood, takes notice of the audacity. Wade can practically hear eyeballs turning and the collective bating of breath. 

“That’s cute. He thinks he can take us.” Bad Haircut snickers, drunkenly swaying into the conversation. He gives Baby Boy a once-over, expression turning lewd, “Then again, maybe he can…in one of the back rooms.” 

“He does have bigger tits than most of the girls here,” His unfortunate-looking friend leers, staring at Baby Boy’s admittedly mouth-watering chest. Motherfucker is tall and top-heavy, built like a linebacker, invading the kid’s space like he’s looking for a touchdown if you get Wade’s drift. “Got a pretty face, too. What do you say, sweetheart? Why don’t we go to the back and we can apologize to you real good.”

Baby Boy’s hand constricts halfway into a fist before he forces it to relax. He looks like he’s barely holding himself back, and coin flip on whether this is going to be very funny or very sad, but either way, Wade’s on board to be entertained.

“Yo Weasel,” Ugly Smile calls out, eyes locked on Baby Boy, lurid and alcohol-glazed, “You mind if we take your bar boy for a spin?”

His grin promises an unpleasant time, but Wade isn’t worried. Maggie’s is a shithole for sure, with morals looser than Wade’s jaw, but some things are still too far. Not that it keeps these loser shitheads from defaulting to it when they need to compensate.

“You break it, you buy it,” Weasel replies gamely. Which, dang, cold. Always nice to be reminded why Wade kind of likes the guy. 

Baby Boy’s mouth twitches into a smile, and Wade’s entire body goes on alert, “Take the chair out of my rent, then.”

Ready, set, action. An invisible hand slams the clapboard, and everyone bursts into motion.

The chair in question swings and misses. Baby Boy fluidly sidestepping both Bad Haircut and his buddy, grabbing the support and using the momentum to hook the wooden back over Linebacker’s neck, flipping the chair and twisting both mercs like puppets before sending them crashing to the floor. 

Bad Haircut is scrambling up, but Linebacker is pinned to the floor by his chair necklace, anchored by Baby Boy’s leg as he presses down hard enough to snap the wood and drive the remaining air out of his lungs.

The bigger they are, the dumber they fall. Linebacker is immediately out for the count, but a broken chair is still useful, and Baby Boy is apparently the creative sort.

The snapped leg turns into a baton, and Baby Boy leisurely sways out of pistol-whipping range when Bad Haircut pulls out his gun, dancing back in to drive the splintered wood under the merc’s armpit on the outswing.

Screaming in pain, Bad Haircut stumbles back only for Baby Boy to grab his wrist and haul him forward, twisting his arm in a fancy maneuver that ends up with the gun on the floor and kicked safely out of reach.

Interesting.

Then it’s a pas de deux, with Baby Boy’s back against Haircut’s chest, using the impaled baton as leverage to toss the man over his shoulder and straight into Ugly Smile. 

The merc falls out of the way, only to run into Baby Boy’s fist as it buries deep in his guts. Even at a distance, Wade can hear his ribs break. Doubled over, Ugly Smile is coughing up blood and vomit when a tattooed hand cradles the back of his head and slams his mouth into the table once, twice, three times. Then it’s lights out.

It’s over almost as soon as it began, and as the dust settles, Wade is reevaluating the merits of his earlier bet. 

Yes, they were drunk, but Wade still expected it to be fast, if not messy. He hadn’t been counting on class. He hadn’t been counting on Baby Boy to be the one last standing, let alone to have shut them down so completely it barely merits the paragraph.

And the kid isn’t even done. He’s locked eyes with the fourth guy, jaw flexing like an attack dog straining against its leash, but the dumbass looks like he’s turned over a new leaf and become a law-abiding citizen in the few heartbeats it took Baby Boy to clean the floor with his buddies. 

When the guy doesn’t make a move, Baby Boy leans back, completely relaxed, eyes flat, no sense of triumph in the aftermath, just…disappointment– like he’d been craving something more and been left wanting.

Wade can’t resist a low, appreciative whistle, clocking the way Baby Boy’s entire body reacts to the sound. His head snaps in Wade’s direction, and the whole room vignettes as he stares Wade down, eyes flashing like he wants to crumble his spine like a cookie. 

Lust stabs Wade’s gut all the way to the hilt.

“Changed my mind, Weas,” Wade breathes, feeling the tension drain from the room and right into his dick. “You should keep him.”

[cosmowgyral]

Jude's Main Story

Chapter 14 Snippets

MC is kidnapped by the syndicate members who were originally after Jude. And blimey, what a grand scene. She didn’t give up, used her gun to puncture some sort of water tank I suppose? That distracted everyone, allowing her to escape. She then ended up in a sealed room with no way out. And guess what you need to do in a situation like this? Just scream “JUUUUDE!!” and he’ll appear! XD

That’s how things turned out. Our hero arrived and fled with her!

Premium Story~

Jude and MC took a carriage and fled the scene. Since she narrowly avoided death, she hugged Jude, glad that he was also unharmed. She then kissed him and pushed him down. And that man, THAT man remained unfazed. When asked why, she confessed. She expressed her desire to be by his side forever, sharing laughter and tears, and then promised to not die before him. He was like “I have done nothing for you to love me” with that scowl on his face.

"You're crazy if you say you have fallen in love with me."

(Might have thought that at the very beginning but not anymore. You deserve every bit of it.)

He said that her feelings were not of love, but rather a result of built-up frustration. So he asked her if she wanted his help to release it and well…you know what goes down. This was the first NSFW scene in his route and I’m sorry but I’m not good at describing spicy scenes. XD

So please wait for the translators. For now, I can just say that there was nothing y’all haven’t read in his SEs before. He didn’t kiss her back though. She got pissed that he wasn’t taking her seriously and that’s when Jude talked about love being a curse and that he didn’t want to be cursed. He also revealed his fated end-to die with all the hatred in the world. (I thought it would be the opposite- to die hated by everyone. So close!)

[aria-greenhoodie]

You asked and ye shall receive. Aria,why do you use birds to symbolize Abigale's inner turmoil?. Besides the obvious surname thing. Also you apparently have more thoughts on the Muse art? 👀,explain?.

So obviously yeah, “Blackwing” is such a bird surname. BUT THATS ONLY THE SURFACE!

Birds are so often used as symbols of freedom, creatures untethered by laws of the land due to their ability to fly. In the same way, I imagine Abigale as being similar; free, not having to abide by the laws of her land as much as others did. In order to explain I think I have to dive into my version of Abigale’s backstory a bit…

(Warning: I’m going off what I know about 1800-1900s American Society. I’m no historian, but I’ve tried to keep things as believable as possible. I will say I’m pretty confident in that believability thanks to my feminist history class I been taking this semester.)

Born in the early 1880s, the Blackwing family was wealthy, yet fairly unknown. Calling it a “family” before Abigale’s birth would be a stretch in many’s opinion, being made up of just Mr. Atticus Blackwing and Mrs. Chastity Blackwing. Chastity tragically passed in childbirth, leaving Atticus to raise Abigale all on his own. He became fiercely protective and supportive of the young Abigale, a tiny spitting image of his late wife.

Abigale was always an insatiably curious child. At first, Atticus tried to teach her how to be a lady, to be domestic, to cook and clean and dote on her future husband, but quickly realized he was woefully unequipped for teaching a subject he knew nothing about. What’s more: Abigale HATED her womanly lessons. Instead, Atticus decided to let her learn something she actually was interested in; inventing.

Abigale loved to tinker, to create. The mechanical was a fascination of hers from the moment she saw it. Atticus as an architect had some mechanical knowledge, but not to the level Abigale’s insatiable desire to learn needed. But what engineering school would allow a woman in? At this point in the late 1800s, women were nearly always snubbed in inventing spaces, most universities not even offering engineering degrees for female students.

And so, Abigale’s “twin brother” Abraham Blackwing was created. A pseudonym for Abigale, under which she would don Atticus’s old clothes from his boyhood and attend a prestigious engineering school. Her father even falsified documents like Abraham’s birth certificate to make him appear like a legitimate person. It was risky, as crossdressing was a punishable offense by law back then, but Abigale was willing to take that risk if it meant she could learn.

Between her rich father supporting her every decision and passion, and her alter-ego, Abraham, to fall back on, Abigale had a lot of freedom growing up. When her father died of an illness just before she graduated, he left “Abraham” everything, which of course meant that Abigale could “live with her brother” and hold a bank account under his name. She was truly given every opportunity for freedom, more than any woman of her time.

And then, Bill Cipher enters her life.

She’s plagued by the triangular demon ip every night in her dreams, but she refuses to succumb to the shape’s demands. As tempting as building a machine like an inter-dimensional portal was, she knew better than to trust a man who wouldn’t explain his motives. When Abigale asked why Bill wanted this portal built, he couldn’t give her a straight answer, and that was enough proof to know he was no good.

After weeks of restless nights and aggravation, Abigale finds a peculiar ad in the paper, written by a certain Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III…

On some level, she has to thank Bill for entering her life as much as she has to curse him for it. If he had never decided to torment her specifically, she never would have met the rest of the Anti-Cipher Society. Abigale THRIVED in the society, delighted in inventing new ways to ward off Cipher, collaborating with her dear Jessamine to create specialized weaponry, learning self defense from Horace, gossiping with O’Pimm, spending night after night explaining the mechanics of how her inventions worked to Thurburt so he could whip up a stellar sales pitch… she had never felt more alive! She was flying high, much like a bird on the wind.

And then the conference happened.

Thurburt was institutionalized, right then and there. Abigale watched the asylum workers from backstage with mounting horror. Worst case scenario for Thurburt, he’d be locked in a cell or sent out west at some work camp, but for Abigale? If the asylum workers got ahold of her, she knew they’d think her hysterical. Treatments for “insane” men were often much kinder than treatments for women in those times. Deeming Thurburt insane would send him to a locked cell, but he would at least be allowed to remain himself. Abigale had heard of women like her, eccentric unmarried women, “frivolous women” as they were often called, being scooped up by doctors and spat back onto the street with their entire personalities wiped. A hammer and a well placed nail up the inside of one’s nose could do heinous things. Abigale would sooner die then let them take what made her HER away.

So she ran. She tried to take Jessamine with her, but she refused to leave Thurburt. For six days Abigale hid in the society’s underground bunker, terrified of venturing outside, not knowing what happened to her companions besides Thurburt. She only ventured out on the seventh day because she had run out of food.

She couldn’t go back to her house, when she tried to scope it out, she saw the asylum workers already knocking at her door. She couldn’t stay in the bunker, it was only a matter of time before it was found. She was desperate for a way out, to keep herself free.

And here comes Mr. Northwest.

See, the thing about birds is that while they make excellent symbols of freedom, they also make excellent symbols of being trapped. Birds can be put into cages, forced to sing or speak for meager treats, and lets not forget that at that time most birdcages were anything but spacious and comfortable. Most captive birds of the time were expected to die quickly, only purchased in order to sing prettily for a short while before their tiny little hearts stopped beating. Birds are as much a symbol of freedom as they are of captivity, of being trapped, of the LOSS of freedom.

Abigale never wanted to be a wife, but what choice did she have? Mr. Northwest offered her a way out if she married him. Her choice was thus: escape the state with Mr. Northwest as her husband, or stay in town and eventually be found and promptly lobotomized, erased of any trace of her real personality.

She chose the former.

Better to live in a gilded cage, twittering for scraps, then to be gutted and stuffed on som taxidermist’s wall…

Right?

As for the muse stuff most of my trout process I already told you in the notes of the original piece lol

[meggahamicide]

How do yall make great art? Also, how do you get out of art and writers block?

I have been trapped in art and writers block for like- a few weeks.

First of all, thank you for liking my art and thank you for the support! It genuinely means so much to me!

As for how I make art? Just a lot of practice and patience, if I'm being honest. I've been drawing since I was a kid and never really stopped, so that helped me cultivate my skills to where they are now.

But for the next question, I'd like to preface it by saying writer's/art block is different for every person, so what works for me might not work for you. Normally, my writer's/art block stems from me being a perfectionist. If something's not going right, I tend to let that build in my head until everything I create doesn't reach the standard that I hold myself to, which is more often than not way too high. Which can lead to burnout.

Acknowledging the problem is my first step. Ultimately, for me, if the creativity isn't happening or I'm stressing myself out trying to draw or write when nothing's working right, I'm just going around in circles and that's not helping anyone. So to work to fix it, I have to take a step back. Anything that I've built up in my head, pieces that I want to perfect or stories that have a set goal in mind, are sent to the backburner for the moment.

I always try to take at least a day when I've reached the point where I can't create anymore. Sometimes, that works, sometimes it doesn't, but if it doesn't, my next step is to focus on creating works purely for me. My thoughts when I do these works aren't to think of the end and what will come of finishing the pieces, but instead on just creating for the sake of creating. This is when I do little doodles in a sketchbook or study a screenshot from a show and I focus entirely on not being perfect. I try to never go into these drawings with the intention of finishing and/or posting them, because that's putting expectation on a drawing that is meant to be relaxing.

The best thing I can do for myself when I'm hit with art block is to take away all outside influences and relax. Creativity is not something that can be forced, at least not for me, so I use these art block pieces to let loose where I usually hold myself to a rigid structure. And i go into each of them figuring that they are never going to see the light of day, so there's no reason to be ashamed by how they turn out.

In the off chance that nothing is working, sometimes I just stop creating for a while. It's maybe not the best course of action, but it gives me a fresh mind when I return to drawing/writing.

[stvaltiel]

yk for a character that's literally built around love for his community, they sure hate to show ekko actually interacting with said community

like this was a problem pre-arcane too bc they'd give ekko friends and then immediately replace in the next story so there was no real point to getting attached

and now we got the firelights who should've been important considering they were the only ones standing up to silco for a hot minute and they're just. not lmao

like wdym scar and sevika are cool now?? when did that happen?? what did the firelights do after ekko disappeared?? when he came home??

also. twice now, they've given us a jinx themed faction and done fuck all with that. like these kids look up to jinx enough to dye their hair and dress like her, to protest in her name but we know nothing about them. cool

[artificialbreezy]

With Just Pretend ending soon, here’s an open letter to the story and Tina directly

i’ll never be able to fully explain to anyone how much this work @thefallennightmare built means to me.

Tina spent hours upon hours planning and working on this world to give us her all on those pages. that’s time she could’ve spent doing anything else, yet she chose to share the world we all fell in love with the second chapter one was posted.

i’ve spent my whole life struggling on finding where i belong. Tina and JP never let me wonder if i was where i was meant to be. there’s been nothing but welcoming smiles and support. they brought me two of the bestest friends a girl could ask for and some of the kindest people ive ever interacted with. i’m forever thankful.

Tina has built this world to feel so much like we’re in the world ourselves. we feel the emotions and we feel the hurt and we feel the love. we feel it all.

Tina did such an amazing job at showcasing grief and mental illness and chronic illness. she wrote all of that in a way that we all could relate to. we all could relate to Angel or Mochi at some point in their story.

I will never shut up about Tina or Just Pretend.

get your tissues guys. chapter 31 is gonna wreck you in an amazing way.

as we say goodbye to the world of Mochi and Angel, remember. Tina’s the queen of khaos. everything she does is for reason. Find those clues.

always remember, you are worthy.

[joanofarcs-stigmata]

gave up studying for my midterms so hello here i am! first, i want to give a few disclaimers: i have a degree in sociology, specifically in regards to trauma informed childcare and the school to prison pipeline, and i teach, so while i interact with the prison system i do not have a law degree, and i only know so much. also, i am trans and schizophrenic, both of which have crazy high rates of discrimination by police (especially schizophrenia. out of all people that face police brutality in the usa, 20.1% are schizophrenic!) so i am definitely biased. i'm also from the southern united states. my state has the highest # of people ever killed by the state in prison in the usa, and our last governor swears with his life that we have never executed an innocent person, despite plenty of people being cleared posthumously. (horrifying, i know. i love my home but also gosh i hate it here). so that's where im coming from, life experience wise. also, i apologize if my wording comes off as gruff; being schizophrenic, i have a hard time conveying tone. i 100% mean everything kindly.

also: im not an anarchist or anything lol. i promise

first, police aren't 'problematic'-- they're a militarized institution. they're a system built into the fabric of society. that's far more than problematic. in my state (which i'm keeping vague bc of privacy, but you can probably figure it out real easy at the end of this lol), the police, rangers, and sheriffs were all started for two reasons: genocide and slave catching. "hey, local farmer, need an *insert whatever slur for indigenous person you can think of* to give up their land? just have them bullied off the property by rangers!" "hey, plantation owner, your slave ran away? call the sheriff to come find them!" the police exist to enforce laws, and when the laws are genocidal and pro-slavery, these institutions are founded as colonialist and antiblack. policing in the usa exists because of slavery and genocide. the justice system hasn't 'failed' because it wasn't moral to begin with.

of course, the history of policing in america doesnt 100% start with slavery/indigenous genocide. but, prior to these laws that supported state sanctioned violence, most law enforcement was done by militias. you see a lot of these still in my state, especially in sundown towns and near the mexican border, and a lot of these people get slaps on the wrist for brutalizing others while the people they are harassing-- black people, people of color, immigrants-- are jailed for nothing, which is just the system working as intended. historically, militias were only formalized into a police force when it came time to murder and attack people of color, ESPECIALLY in the case of slave catching. there is an entire department in the police force in my state that still shares a name with a slave catching group.

and that's just historically. in the modern day, the poor and unhoused, black people, indigenous people, other people of color, the severely mentally ill, and in some areas, lgbt people, make up the statistically disproportionately high percentage of american prisoners, and they certainly make up a higher proportion of solitary confinement (which has been outlawed in other countries and actively used for torture in the usa!) and those on death row. people who are the 'undesirables' make up the most of our prisons, and are the first to get murdered by police. in my state, just this month, a family was only just awarded money in damages for the police murder of their son six years ago that a major city here covered up. not some rural backwater town by a hillbilly cop-- one of the biggest metropolises in the state by a decorated officer. and do police do their job? do they stop sexual assaults? thefts? murders? hate crimes? no. often the police are the ones doing these things, and when they aren't, they are just there to do paperwork documenting what happened. this isn't the movies. most of them don't care, and the ones that do dont stay cops long. how many cases in this year alone have there been of schizophrenic people (often black) calling the police for help/getting a wellness check called on them, just to be murdered? or brutalized? police are on the side of the state, not you. there's a reason why i only share hotlines that DONT call the cops.

okay, so the history of policing is bad, and the vulnerable are being imprisoned and killed at disproportionate rates, but we need people to go to prison, right? so here is where religion comes into play for me. first, Jesus calls for us to protect the marginalized: the poor, unhoused, oppressed.... huh, the people most targeted by policing. then, Jesus calls for us to support the prisoner (Matthew 25:36-40) and to radically, radically forgive.

not to get too personal, but i was a victim of medical abuse as a teenager by a doctor who violated my rights and by all means should be in prison. but i don't want him to go to prison. should he face consequences? yeah. strip him of his license and make sure he never gets near patients again. but imprisoning him, placing him in a deeply corrupt system that constantly violates the rights of the people inside it and leaving him to rot? that's not radical forgiveness. that's not Christlike. our criminal justice system is NOT just. It's punitive. it is not focused on rehabilitation, community building, and harm reduction. it is focused on punishing. And who does that help? Not the victims of crimes, that's for sure. Not the community. Not the person in jail. It helps the STATE. Because prisoners are unpaid slave labor, and prisons can be used to beat down the undesirable and get them out of sight where they can be beaten into submission and quietly done away with. As long as prisons are used to punish instead of rehabilitate, build community, and reduce harm, they are a violation of human dignity and decency. and unfortunately, they never will be rehabilitation, community, and harm reduction focused, because a punitive system based on fear and violence gives the state (and corporations!) money and power.

if you would like to hear from people smarter than I, i have some (so many) books to recommend!

Are Prisons Obsolete? - Angela Y. Davis (anything by her, tbh)

Abolition for the People: The Movement For a Future without Policing and Prisons - Colin Kaepernick

Instead Of Prisons - Prison Research Education Action Project

Locked Down, Locked Out: Why Prison Doesn't Work and How We Can Do Better - Maya Schenwar

Until We Reckon: Violence, Mass Incarceration, and a Road to Repair - Danielle Sered

"Prisons Make Us Safer": And 20 Other Myths about Mass Incarceration - Victoria Law

We Keep Us Safe: Building Secure, Just, and Inclusive Communities - Zach Norris

Resist the Punitive State: Grassroots Struggles Across Welfare, Housing, Education and Prisons - Emily Luise Hart, Joe Greener, Rich Moth

PLEASE let me know if you have any questions!!

to be Christian is to be called to love, but to be Christian is also to be called to love the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized, and the imprisoned specifically and explicitly. To be Christian is to abolish police and prisons, because with these institutions the poor, the oppressed, the marginalized, and the imprisoned will never be free. We are called to make Heaven on Earth, and that includes doing away with institutions that enforce worldly shackles.

[the-dame-of-endos]

Trigger warning: syscourse For my first post, I want to share our experience. We first discovered the endogenic community in early 2021 through Discord. Back then there were a lot of large and active endo-safe servers. We were never good at understanding new things, but somehow, plurality- something that's supposed to be so complex- just clicked for us. We've never understood something so quickly, related to it even. And there began our syscovery. Origins, roles, introjects. They helped us figure ourselves out, we'd never felt so cared for. The community was nothing but welcoming and educational. It was not perfect, of course, there were servers and people we avoided because we deemed them unsafe to ourselves or others. But, no community is perfect, bad apples are everywhere. Through the endogenic community, we discovered neopronouns, xenogenders, regression, alterhumanity; all things that now play apart in our identity. We would not be who we are today without this community. So, when the endo community began to become dead on discord, we were distraught. Missing a community that made us, that kept us sane in the horrible environment we were living in. Eventually, we joined an anti server. We felt like traitors, but we thought that as long as they did bring up endos much, we should be fine, right? In theory, that should have been right. They, indeed, didn't talk about endos as much as we thought they would, but they did something worse. Trauma olympics were the main problem, comparing and judging trauma. Deeming what counted and what didn't. And even in some cases prying for people's trauma. You weren't a system, or were at least less of a system, if you didn't fit their requirements. They dictated what roles you could use, what alters fit their criteria, how your alters can act, what relationships they can have, what introjects you can have, how you should treat your alters, what experiences aren't real. It was a tight box. Our mental health had never been worse trying to cram ourselves onto their checklist for the sack of community. And they gatekept a bunch of other absurd things that weren't even plural related. And this wasn't just one server, it was every single one we came across, and even most antis we see on Tumblr now. For two-ish years we were trapped like this, no courage to leave until syscord started to finally die out itself. That led us here, our first time exploring a new social platform. We've never been more relieved, it was like discovering the endo community all over again. The kindness, the acceptance, the support. We were home. It's been a few months now, but we still can't fully be ourselves, confined to the walls the antis built, but we're slowly breaking them down. One brick at a time. Seeing antis doing the same thing to other endos enrages me. I don't understand why they can't understand that we exist, we are real, we are valid, and we have feelings too. I want to dedicate myself to being that safe space that we were lost without for so long. Endos, I love you. Endos, I am here for you. Endos, don't give up.

[xosnsd]

I’m still bitter that they didn’t think it was important enough for Jinx and Caitlyn to have a one on one conversation with each other and then have them fight it out.

Does Jinx know one of the councilors was Caitlyn’s mother? Are we suppose too assume she finds out during the time jump, off-screen? Is that not important enough address to ON-SCREEN????

Why establish this entire arc for Caitlyn that starts with Jinx, but you don’t see the importance of them interacting?

I know Jinx is a genius and in the game she gets away from being caught by Vi and Caitlyn numerous times, but isn’t Caitlyn supposed to have these super, amazing detective skills? That’s one of her defining traits in the lore.

I find it hard to believe that not once could she locate Jinx in the span of those months.

Also, Vi and Jinx don’t even speak about Caitlyn at all. Sometimes the writing for both of the sisters gives the impression that they don’t even remember what happened in season 1.

Yes, I know she chose “Jinx” and accepted that they both changed, but she went from being very obsessive to acting like Caitlyn doesn’t even exist really quickly. What happened to her very severe abandonment issues?

[puppyeared]

i feel like im not making any sense but does anyone else feel like there are stories that let u run with them and ones that spell everything out for you

[ponytailzuko]

apologies, i literally just saw this because i haven't been on tumblr at all. i'd probably change the entirety of season 5 to be honest. before that even. but definitely everything that happened in season 5. its 4 am so sorry if im being really mean to ml. i actually really love her guys im serious. miraculous ladybug is my pookie. anyways i suppose here are some of my grievances:

marinette's main civilian conflict that drives almost every episodic plotline is the fact she just absolutely sucks at confessing to adrien. shes just truly dogshit at it. so one would think that if the first season set this up as her main Problem, she might change on this subject by the end. perhaps she would either learn to move on, or she would learn how to confess. no, the show makes adrienette the side that is canon and also marinette isn't the one to confess! adrien is the one who does it. at least adrien has some development here where he reevaluates his feelings in some way, but adrien confessing is absolutely nothing new for his character. i have been watching adrien confessing his love for ladybug for seasons. it isn't a conflict for him.

chat noir not being at the main fight with hawkmoth is actually crazy. im sorry. i don't care the justifications everyone has. "it has more seasons." it is just genuinely unsatisfying to set up a magic system with yin yang powers built around the romance/partnership where the whole point is that they're equals, and then allow one of them to wield both of them?! when the whole point is that hawkmoth is WRONG for wanting both of them, to want to use the wish at all. wielding both of them at once, quite frankly, should have serious consequences. they just shot every theme they ever set up in the foot. ignoring the fact chat noir is also hawkmoths son, it just doesn't make sense for him to not be there.

honestly they just wasted every potential fun dynamic they ever could have milked out of gabriel and adrien by killing gabriel before adrien OR gabriel learned anything about each other. there were so many avenues for interesting storytelling, but they decided to go with two au episodes to say "if gabriel learns adrien is chat noir, adrien is akumatized and the world ends." why do an au! why not ACTUALLY akumatize adrien in the main timeline, and make him possible to defeat? the world did not have to end, that was a writing CHOICE. how fascinating would it be for ladybug to assemble a superhero team because her partner was akumatized? or chat blanc to be a multi-episode or even a season antagonist. or use the sentimonster aspect in an interesting way. or vice versa, have adrien learn gabriel is hawkmoth and be genuinely conflicted about what to do. literally ANYTHING other than both of them never learning anything until gabriel kicks the bucket. every drop of that conflict was wasted. big L.

this is a nitpick but the entire point of the love square is that it is a subversion of the love triangle so why did they introduce two love triangles and then not even commit. why did they break up lukanette and adrigami in one episode. they ruined the subversion of the trope for shit that didn't even last. sorry that is so small but it makes me so mad for no reason.

uhhh develop the class in some way or cut them. i cannot take ladybug's entire squad its just too many of them and they're all archetype and one-note. and their superpowers are eh. spending a bunch of episodes giving the class jewelry was not fun for me. sorry.

Tell me, is there anything about Miraculous Ladybug that you wish had gone differently?

everything

[stupidrant]

Since we’re on the topic of video games, im tired of these fucking remakes. Ive said it before but i’ll say it again each time. These companies dont wanna invest in an actually good remaster or port and would rather waste their time with these remakes bcuz “ooh look how shiny and better the graphics look!!1!1!1” often times it has an empty feeling because everything has to be ultra realism super 6000. Its gotten so bad that now regular gamers are starting to gaslight you into playing or enjoying them. So much has been lost artistically, (like the cool UI designs) that it’s now considered “juvenile” and that i need to “grow up” and “accept it” 😂

[blackswallowtailbutterfly]

Still haven't messaged my mom back. And I don't think I'm going to.

[stochastiz]

i am so fucking close to quitting :) i just don't understand how they can keep doing this :) it's not remotely logical, let alone fair to the kids or staff in my classroom :)

every single time i try to ask for help i either get entirely dismissed or get so much attitude for daring to speak up :) all from people who have no fucking idea what they're talking about :)

i really despise being angry :) but there's so much to be angry about for the sake of my kids :) i genuinely only care about them getting what they need and deserve :) but i'm having to fight so hard for any single thing i try to ask for that it's just so far beyond exhausting :)