#too much saturation can be grating :

[qweenofurheart]

post-patrol arguing at sunrise

[saturfied]

y'know i was thinking back on how long i've known jeff and his journey that we've been lucky to witness, and i just wanna say that i'm so very proud of him!!!!

[inkykeiji]

character: shigaraki tomura x fem!reader warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, dry humping, rough messy kisses, tomura is a meanie words: 1.3k

just been daydreaming about kissing tomura’s scars and leave the prettiest, sparkliest smears of pink lip gloss along his neck and collarbone ♡ and how much he supposedly ‘hates’ it ♡

“i told you to stop doing this,” his voice vibrates against your lips, head tilting further back, allowing you more room to work. “you’re making a fucking mess.” 

“m’sorry,” you murmur into the curve of his shoulder, not seeming apologetic in the slightest, planting another kiss, hard and puckered and full of purpose, to the protruding bones. “can’t help it.”  

“b-bitch,” he keens out, curse fading to a gasp on his tongue.

giggling, you string another garland of pecks along the curve of his neck to the hinge of his jaw, then across the defined edge, leaving smears of pretty pink lip gloss.

it’s real cute, you think, the way he acts as if he doesn’t love it, grumbles about how sticky it is, how it clumps his hair together and dries all hard and shimmery, but secretly he loves finding remnants of glitter—of you—all over him; his fingertips, his collarbone, his lips, his hair, his eyelashes; tiny sparkling reminders that you were there, that you’ve staked your claim, leaving a galaxy of constellations across his body that bear your name. 

he acts as if it’s such a nuisance, as if he doesn’t adore the way your lips paint his fresh gouges, new gashes, in the prettiest shimmers of you; your gloss, your drool, your scent—notes that linger far after you’re gone, notes that seep into his skin, that produce phantom tingles of longing when he’s laying alone in the middle of the night, warm and wiggling beneath his flesh.

he acts as if he doesn’t find it breathtakingly beautiful, the way his self-inflicted scars glimmer, the worst part of himself made pretty by you.

he acts as if if it doesn’t make his cock twitch in his jeans—even though you know it does, even though he knows you know it does, indicated by your girlish giggles as you bounce a little in his lap and lick another fat strip of saliva up the column of his neck, tongue tracing over that prominent adam’s apple that trembles with a growl or throbs with a thick swallow, to punctuate the lick with a sticky, gloss saturated kiss, right beneath his chin. 

he acts like this for as long as he can stand it, for as long as his soul will allow it, until he physically can’t take it anymore, the clawing at his chest and in his veins too much to bear, large hands curling around your hips and squeezing, hard, holding you in place as he ruts up into your clothed core, movements sloppy and uneven.

there’s no finesse to it, no set rhythm or pace, hips bucking wildly as he compels you to stay put, damn it, the demand spit out in a ragged whine. 

his mouth clashes against your own in a crude imitation of a kiss, sucking your lips into his mouth with enough force to yank a yelp from your chest. 

sharp teeth scrape your upper lip and the underside of your nose, leaving raised, raw little abrasions in their wake as they gnaw on your mouth, bottom row grating over your chin and dragging up, harvesting fat globs of the sticky substance behind their sawtoothed edges.

muffled moans soak into your flesh, pitchy and splintered to bits by heavy pants as he restlessly scours your mouth, scrubs it near clean, teeth depositing clots of gloss onto his tongue. 

it hurts, the constant rubbing of his teeth leaving your skin chafed and bloodied, but he doesn’t fucking care, greedily swallowing down your resounding squeals and cries, starved for any bit of you he can devour. 

it hurts, but you don’t discourage it, instead twining your arms around his neck, fingers pushing into the fluffy tufts curling up at the base of his skull.

“uh, fuck,” he whines, voice grit and gravel, mouth mashed against your own.  

his tongue unfurls to lap at your lips, now glazed with a watery crimson, desperate to slurp every last ounce of gloss from your swollen mouth. it flattens against your face, slick muscle laving in hard, repetitive motions back and forth, back and forth, gathering the remnants of make-up and coating his tongue and his teeth in the tacky glitter, tainted with the taste of copper. 

those little whimpers and mewls have morphed into grunts and groans, shoved from his throat into yours as his tongue finally enters your mouth, now satisfied with having sucked the first layer of skin from your lips. 

it’s all so fucking messy, drool weeping from the corners of your conjoined mouths and leaving sticky streaks across your jaws and chins, edges of your teeth clacking together as your tongues tangle and brush and massage one another, slick and slippery as they push and curl.

his pleasure is hot and heavy on your tongue, little jolts surging through your skin with each sound huffed out in time with the irregular rocking of his hips. 

his cock is so hard, straining painfully against his jeans, throbbing as if it’s desperate to burrow through the thick denim to your cunt, but tomura won’t let it get that far—tomura can’t. 

because tomura needs to cum now, tomura doesn’t have the time to wait, tomura doesn’t have a goddamn second to waste, fucking into you through layers of fabric, thankful you’re in a skirt, thankful your panties are so fucking slutty, made of lace so thin, so delicate it’s barely a barrier at all.

if he concentrates hard enough, he swears he can feel your hole, empty and yearning, clenching with every stroke of his cock over your clit. 

it’s almost enough to make him cum right there. 

bony fingers flex on your waist, unsure if they want to stop your movements or speed them up, blunt nails gouging dark, deep crescents into your skin. 

you make the decision for him, pace quickening as you grind down on his cock—come on, tomu, come on, tomu—and he mewls again, something high and pitchy and dense in your mouth, hips jerking up in response.

his forehead knocks against your own, hard enough to make you wince, pain searing through your temples. your noses nudge together, clumsy and inept with the haphazard rolling of his hips, steadily accelerating with each rut against you, desperate to match the pace you’ve set, to exceed the pace you’ve set. the fingers tangled at the back of his skull push further into his hair, fingertips pressing into his scalp in lopsided little circles, evoking another low moan as he shoves his head harder against yours, desperate to give you more room to work. 

he’s getting close now, hands tightening as they force you to move even faster, thighs tensing as the pressure in his tummy builds higher and higher, heavier and heavier with each of your motions, hips stuttering as they fall out of tempo again, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

“fuck, f-fuck,” the curse fractures in his throat, eyes shut so tight they crinkle at the corners, breath exhaled in harsh tatters out his nose. “i—i’m gonna—”

“do it,” you nearly beg in a stringy whine. “ruin your jeans for me.”

“oh, christ,” he chokes on a sob, another three gyrations of your hips and then he’s obeying, cock pulsing almost violently and filling his pants with hot, thick cum—so much, too much, way too much that it starts oozing through the denim in viscous, ropy dollops to smear across your inner thighs, the coating pretty and pearly glazing over your skin.

leaning back, you look down, spreading your thighs a little further to examine the damage, tensing and tilting the muscles to fawn at the way his cum shimmers in the dim light.

“now who’s the one making a mess?” you tease with a giggle, gazing at him through your lashes, and he rolls his eyes. 

“this is nothing,” he’s growling as he hoists you up, one big hand clamped around your elbow, already beginning to drag you along behind him. “i’m gonna show you what a real mess looks like.” 

[birder-of-remnant]

A Story Done Right

Kill Bill, The Princess Bride, Blue-Eyed Samurai, Wrath of Khan. Our media is saturated with revenge stories. Even children's tales often have revenge as a sweeping premise (e.g., the countless Star Wars villains as a modern example, but older tales such as Cinderella were even more rife with vindictive messages). And to be honest, I have never cared for this plot type.

Revenge stories are usually violent, merciless, myopic, and pretty disregarding of 'collateral' losses. Not all, but most lack any type of interesting moral symbology and substitute dynamic storylines and complex character development in lieu of exciting action scenes and a prosaic fixation on bloodshed. There are certainly exceptions to this, many of the titles I listed above actually have a lot of great things going for them. But I would say that these qualities are in spite of their focus on revenge and not because of it.

And there are an endless number of animes, movies, books, and other stories based on revenge that simply do not appeal to me (not judging other people if they like violent action media, just not my personal taste). Most of the time, I am just left feeling empty at the end, like Neo after volume 9.

But there is one exception to this theme. One revenge story that leaves me feeling whole, not empty. From the banner image, I think it is pretty obvious which story it is. This is my own highly subjective opinion, but I truly believe that the fight with Adam represents the perfect revenge story. And here is my reasoning.

Revenge is Not The Hero's Purpose

In too many stories, the premise begins with douchebag 'X' killing damsel 'Y', leading to hero 'Z' killing a lot of henchmen and blowing up a lot of buildings all for the singular purpose of making Mr. X pay. Once they achieve this purpose, they look around aimlessly before wandering off to have a milkshake or play golf or something. Yeah well, this story does not do this. Killing Adam was never the objective for Blake and Yang, because they have actual goals that involve saving people and not just executing some vendetta.

Don't get me wrong. I love redemption stories, I find them so much more satisfying, especially when the character in question has to struggle to overcome the gravity of what they have done (note: a redemption arc does not mean instant forgiveness, it might never end with actual for absolution for what they have done). I love Emerald's story and think it has a lot of interesting twists that it can take. But there are some characters who are just too far gone to save. And Adam fits that perfectly.

He has a tragic backstory and I truly pity him. But he is also an abusive, murdering shitlord who manipulated and groomed Blake (I wouldn't be surprised if he physically or sexually abused her, which is somewhat implied by her frequently defensive body posture, but is not definite). He kills out of spite and represents Yang's demon, who she could have become. It was cathartic to watch him fall, but I am ever so grateful that his demise was not the purpose of Blake and Yang. Because killing him out of spite for what he did to them would not be much different than the way he lashed out at others for the traumas that he has endured. Some might call it justice, but justice and revenge are two sides of the same coin and the edges between them can be blurry.

The point is, Yang and Blake are so much more than Adam. They killed him out of necessity, not out of hate.

They Are Set on the Future

As I mentioned, I often feel empty at the end of a revenge story. When the villain lies dead within a pool of their own blood and the hero has achieved everything they sought to accomplish, what more is there really? Often, I feel like the story has reached its ending without really achieving anything of note. Often, without really making the world a better place. A plot about revenge is not the same as one about taking someone down to save other people. The former is what Adam wanted and it would have made the world a worse place. But Yang and Blake are protectors. The fight was exhilarating and satisfying, but it ultimately humanized these characters whereas most revenge stories do the opposite, treating human life as cheap entertainment to be killed in the most 'epic' way possible.

But more important, the fight left me feeling excited about the future, rather than feeling burn out from seeing the villain die. Adam was fixated on the past. He was a character of the past. He represented Blake and Yang's trauma, their old demons and fears. He had no further place in their character arcs, because they had evolved into something so much more. Killing Adam was not the end of their story as it is in so many revenge plots. It was simply a new beginning. It felt whole and wholesome. Past, present, and future.

Because it is the People Who Matter

Ultimately, the fight was never about killing Adam. It was about bringing Yang and Blake together. About having them overcome the demons of their past. About the importance of mental health. About their individual traumas (abandonment issues & PTSD for Yang and Blake's fear of hurting others). About the challenges that LGBTQ+ people face in finding security in a hostile world. It was about these two, fucking amazing characters and the ineffably wondrous relationship that forms between them. One based on actual fucking support, equality, and love.

That is all I have on this right now. Hopefully, I did not offend too many people by criticizing typical revenge stories. But I have been wanting to talk about my love and appreciation of this scene for years. I know there have been so many more people who have discussed these same themes and points before, probably more adroitly than my rambling mess, but this is my rambling mess. Thanks for reading!

Random side trivia 1: Mandy Patinkin, the actor who played Inigo Montoya in The Princess Bride, is famous for his iconic line, "Hello. My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die." Mandy felt that the scene was symbolic of feelings towards the illness that took his father. But regarding revenge against people, he actually dislikes his iconic line and how it idolizes revenge.

Random side trivia 2: I love Jeff & Casey William songs and I just love BMBLY (except or that creepy line about the birds and butterflies knowing, wtf). But as an ecologist, I should note that bumblebees do not make honey. Jeff was thinking of European honey bees. Bumblees are cute, fuzzy, chunky super pollinators that live in the ground, in hollow plant stems, or other obscure spots and are either solitary or have very small hives. They virtually never bother people and are super pollinators, actually much better pollinators than honeybees (which are super awesome cool in their own right, but also highly invasive in the western hemisphere and hurt our native pollinators D: And yes, I cherry-picked the ugliest picture of one that I could find). Many bumblebees are endangered, just like our beloved Bumblebees. Save the bees! AND THE BEES!

[elinordash]

Thank you @cobbbvanth for asking me for this; I’ve never been more flattered! ☺️ I’ve only been making gifs for a little more than 2 years, so I’m really still only figuring Photoshop out, and my colouring owes everything to other people’s tutorials (some of which can be found here). To be honest, I was only asked some tips, but I have no clue what to include and what to leave out; so, here’s my complete (if random) colouring process.

NOTE: This is a colouring tutorial, not a gif-making one. The tutorial that taught me everything I know about that (and to which I am eternally grateful) is this one by @hayaosmiyazaki.

I. SHARPENING My standard sharpening settings are:

One Smart Sharpen filter set to Amount: 500 | Radius: 0,4

A second Smart Sharpen filter set to Amount: 10 | Radius: 10

One Gaussian Blur filter set to Radius: 1,0 and Opacity: 30%

One Add Noise filter set to Amount 0,5 | Distribution: Gaussian

II. BASIC COLOURING This is the part where I add most of the adjustment layers available and just play around with them. Obviously different settings work for different scenes, but I do have some standard ones.

Brightness/Contrast I usually up the Brightness to +10-30, and the Contrast to about +10.

Curves

For the first Curves layer I go to Auto Options > Enhance Brightness and Contrast, and then adjust the opacity until I’m happy.

I might repeat the above step if the gif still looks too dark to me.

I add another Curves layer, I go to Auto Options and this time I pick either Find Dark & Light Colors or Enhance Per Channel Contrast, and check or uncheck the Snap Neutral Midtones option, until I see something I like. I will then adjust the opacity.

Levels I add a Levels layer that usually looks something like this:

Exposure I add an Exposure layer, where I usually set the Offset to around -0,0010.

Selective Color To make the faces look okay, I create a Selective Color layer, select the Reds and usually add some Cyan (+10-20%) and play around a little (±5%) with Magenta and Yellow too. I might also add another layer, select the Yellows and make slight tweaks there too.

III. FUN COLOURING About colour manipulation: PiXimperfect just uploaded a tutorial that explains everything so much better than I ever could, so I highly recommend you go watch it. It’s made for static images though, and things are more complicated with moving images, so I also recommend @elizascarlets’s tutorial.

The reason I usually go for a softer colouring is that a more vivid one requires a lot of patience and precision, and I honestly can’t be bothered. Instead, I try to tweak the colous only a little, so that the edges can be a little rough without it looking too wrong.

One thing to remember is that each gif is different, and there isn’t one foolproof way to do this, so you will need to use a different technique depending on the gif you’re working with.

Okay, so, after I’ve decided what colour I want my background to be:

1. I create a Hue/Saturation layer and change the greens, cyans, blues and magentas to that colour. That’s easy enough, since it doesn’t mess with the face colour. I then set the blending mode to Color. If your background doesn’t include any yellow or red, you might be done here, like in the case bellow:

2. To change the yellows and reds, I create a new Hue/Saturation layer, select the yellows/reds, move Saturation to 100 (temporarily) and then play around with the sliders until the face colour isn’t affected. I then change it to whatever I’ve chosen and change the blending mode to Color.

3. If for whatever reason step 3 doesn’t work (the background is white or black for example, or just too red), I might create a Solid Color layer set to whatever colour I want, set the blending mode to Color and then select the layer mask and carefully paint with a soft, black brush over the people’s faces/bodies. I will then lower the Opacity, to whatever looks smooth enough. If there’s a lot of movement in your gif, you might have to use keyframes (see elizascarlets’s tutorial linked above). However, my main goal is to avoid using those; that’s why I try my hardest to tweak around as many Hue/Saturation layers as needed and not have to create a solid color layer.

4. Once my background looks the colour I want it, I might add a Selective Color layer that matches my background color and then try to make it look more vibrant. For this Aziraphale gif below for example, I’ve selected the Cyans and then set Cyan to +100%, Yellow to -100% and Black to +60, then created another one, selected the Cyans again and then set Cyan to +20 and Black to +20.

5. If the gif has a white area, I create a Solid Color layer with a colour that matches the rest of the background and then set the Opacity low. I might also create a Selective Color layer, increase the Black and then play around with the colours.

IV. FINISHING TOUCHES

I create a Vibrance layer and set the Vibrance to around +30 and the Saturation to about +5.

I create a black and white Gradient Map layer (with black on the left end of the spectrum and white on the right), set the blending to Luminosity and the Opacity to about 20-30%.

AAAND that’s about it I think! This ended up way too long and perhaps a little incoherent. I tried to make it as general as possible, so you might have to mix and match for best results. Feel free to ask me for further explanations about any one of these steps, and please tell me if you want me to go through the colouring of a specific gifset (although, as I said, I'm by no means an expert). Happy gifmaking!

[xcyphoz0a]

Hello there! I hope your day is going well, but if not I hope it gets better dude!!!🤗

I wanted to know if it’s alright to request an idea for sagau? Like I might make a post about this but I always thought it would be cool to have y/n retain some realistic features even though they isekai into tevat!

Like for example; the hair being more textured, shines in reflection , the way they would have different shades and saturation throughout the skin, they way how your touch feels ‘real’ or different, oh and ur eyes, oh how the characters could look how your pupils reflects, etc.

Idk I always thought if I were to make and character of mine or y/n still retaining little features they had back their own world seem kind of cool and interesting to think how people would react to it!

Even better is if they don’t know you’re the ‘creator’ of their reality and they were only able to hear your voice and how you express yourself!!

Anyways sorry for making this so long 🥲 I’m just kind of curious on how you or others would feel on this idea 💡

Unique differences

Gender neutral reader, ideas TW/CW: sagau Character(s): Some characters from Mondstadt Word count: 608 Proofread: n/a | The differences you hold is what makes you unique, so special, lovable. | A/N: hello! I hope this fits your tastes..? might have a part two if i manage to find some more ideas!

Taglist: @chaoffee

When you arrive you probably don’t know why some random citizens look at you with such amazed, perplexed gazes, with you likely thinking there’s something on your face that you don’t know was there.

You’re also slightly confused why the hilichurls don’t attack when you’re an inch near them, and why the slimes seem to be more docile, why you barely manage to see abyss mages– everything’s odd.

If you arrive near Mondstadt, Amber is the first one to find you and lead you towards the headquarters of the knights of Favonius, but she definitely notices something different with you. You haven’t spoken yet, so she doesn’t know who you really are, perhaps, you’re like the traveller, she thinks.

But when you properly introduce yourself to Jean and the others the whole knights that are in the headquarters, such as Albedo, Sucrose, Kaeya, Lisa, perhaps Eula, gather around you, murmuring to themselves that you’re 99% the creator that they’ve only ever heard, and you’re just standing there. 

With your voice, the different, more dynamic and ‘lively’ look that you have seemed to make more sense–your eyes held the shine and reflection of their own appearance, your skin seemed to be much softer… and you assume that you’ve managed to retain some realer features you had in your original world.

Don’t worry, don’t fret, they love you with or without differences. Even if you weren’t the creator, Mondstadt welcomes you with open arms.

Best to say now the whole of Mondstadt finally knows their creator’s here in their region.

While Albedo knows that you are the creator, he can’t help but wonder if he can try to run some tests–he doesn’t want to hurt you, he just has an infinite curiosity ridden area in his mind.

Same goes for Sucrose too, but she doesn’t want to come off as rude or disrespectful, so she only holds these curiosities within her, oftentimes writing this in her journal, it’s not creepy, I promise.

Jean finds your presence nice, but more than others, it feels as if you’re like a safe haven for her with only just your presence, and you can visibly see her tired eyes brighten up when you pat her head for her hard work.

For Lisa, she also holds some questions for you, though she’d rather stay where she is, watching and hearing you enthusiastically talk about the books and literature in your world in the library.

Diluc wishes he was the person to find you first and lead you to Mondstadt– his feelings towards the knights of Favonius may be neutral and slightly, very slightly bad, but he’s still grateful that you managed to arrive safely. If you manage to visit Angel’s Share often, he’s somehow always there, wiping a glass or two.

Kaeya’s teasing his brother. No hard feelings though! Just pure friendly sibling rivalry. But when you’re near, his charismatic face fades as he’s rendered to someone yearning for affection–it’s adorable.

Same goes for Eula. She’s not often seen in Mondstadt due to her… ‘status’, but when you welcome her with open arms and no judgemental gaze, she feels… so appreciated. She’s barely felt this before other than in the knights of Favonius, but this… feels more different, warm, loving.

Venti’s elated, often like him a majority of times, but for him, he feels the joy that he’s never felt before–it’s pure, unadulterated joy that stems from his chest, as his mind fills with endless pure and innocent praise and lyrics for you with his lyre. The weather in Mondstadt seems to be more light, a refreshing breeze whenever Venti’s with you for some reason…

[theliteraryarchitect]

Hi! I wanted to say, I read that you are a professional editor, and think it's amazing! You also give very logical and well explained advice. I was wondering; would you say being an editor is a job you can support yourself with? I actually aspire to become one someday, but I'm not exactly sure if it's a good plan.

Thank you for your time, and I hope you have a good day/night

Hey there. Great question. It's totally possible to support yourself as an editor. I've done it, and so have other editors I know. However there are a few important things to consider before choosing editing as a career path.

Your chances of being a self-employed freelancer are extremely high. The number of in-house editing jobs in publishing are low and getting lower. While being self employed can give you a certain amount of flexibility, it also comes along with a lot of hustle and hassle, namely fluctuating income, a stupid amount of confusing tax paperwork, and the need to constantly promote yourself to clients in order to maintain steady work.

You probably won't make as much money as you'd think. Editing is one of the many skilled jobs that suffers from market saturation, which has sadly driven down the price the average client is willing to pay for editing services. I can't tell you the number of overqualified editors I know charging barely more than minimum wage for their work. Personally I've stuck to my guns about charging what I'm worth, but I've sometimes suffered by not having as much work as my colleagues who charge less.

Robots have already chipped away at the future of editing as a human occupation, and will continue to do so at exponential speed in the years ahead. They will never obliterate the job completely, as there will always be humans who prefer to work with humans instead of machines. But the outlook will become ever bleaker as more humans compete for fewer gigs, which in turn will drive down prices even further.

If you are also a writer, editing may adversely affect your writing. I don't mean that you'll become a worse writer, quite the opposite. My editing work has brought new depths to my writing, and I'm grateful for all I've learned by working with my clients. However, editing takes time, uses creative energy, and requires staring at a screen (or paper), and personally the more I edit, the less time/creativity/screen-staring capabilities I have left for my own writing.

If you mention you're an editor, someone will troll your post for a typo, grammatical error, or misused word, and then triumphantly point it out to you in the comments. This is mostly a joke. But it does happen every single time.

I hope this hasn't been too discouraging. If you feel a true passion for editing and really enjoy the work, none of the above should dissuade you. However, if you think you might be happy in any number of occupations, I'd honestly advise you to explore other options. Choosing a career path at this point in history is a gamble no matter what, but the outlook for editors is especially grim.

If you'd like to work with writers and aren't attached to being an editor, there are a few jobs (still freelance) that I believe will survive the coming robot apocalypse. Do a little Google research about "book coaches," "writing coaches," or "book doulas." These are people who act primarily as emotional supporters and logistical helpers for writers who are trying to get their book published or self published. Some of them do actual editing, but many do not, and due to the therapeutic nature of their work I believe they will flourish longer than editors in the coming robot apocalypse.

If you do explore editing as a path, the further away you can lean from spelling and grammar (e.g. proofreader or copyeditor), the longer your skills will be useful when competing with robots. AI still struggles to offer the same kind of nuanced, story-level feedback that a human can give. (Speaking from experience here--I'm a developmental editor and have yet to see a dent in my workload because of robots.) They'll catch up eventually, but it could be a while, and as long as there are human readers, there will always be humans who are willing to pay for a human perspective on their writing. Human spell checkers maybe not so much.

Hope this helps!

[xcerizex]

"Can you hear my voice?"

fem!summoner, Sirius, character introspection(?), 1.5k words

Sirius had long forgotten the concept of familiarity in his life.

He knew what he had to do. The extremes he would have to take to achieve his goal. Any collateral damage would be of no concern to him, not when his heart had long frozen over.

From the day that thing came and took away his only piece of happiness, he was ready to risk everything.

The Constellations willingly despised him however. Because through some sliver of misfortune, he had found himself stumbling upon the doorway of the small greenhouse of Contell's garden in the dead of the night.

Witnessing the girl inside it, and her song.

Looking at the sight before him, he couldn't help but think;

'Is this something really worth losing?'

Moonlight filters through the glass windows of Contell, saturating the hallways with blue and silver. The moon shines bright enough that the darkness becomes irrelevant despite the hand pointed to twelve on the clock, and it makes walking around so much easier. There is no need for a lamplight.

Everything is peaceful.

A part of Sirius loathes that peace.

The reason so many people can sleep soundly in their beds is because of Polaris. They are grateful for it of course, it's not like that they have taken it for granted. On the contrary, they write ballads and books, all praising his genius and compassion. As if he were some sort of hero in a fairy tale.

'...He very much was like one. And to me...'

There was a time where Sirius was the same as them, and looked up to the person who saved his life. Loved him. Adored him even, putting him up on a pedestal.

His impression of him has changed a little since then. Just a little.

'I truly hate that.'

That feeling is directed moreso towards himself. Lost in his thoughts, he doesn't notice the small shadow that passes over him.

A tap at the window is what finally directs his attention to the little bird perched on the windowsill. It wasn't quite a real bird however, just a small form of light taking the form of one.

He quietly opens the window to create as little noise as possible, and holds his hand out gently towards the bird. If anyone he knew were to see him do this, they would claim it an odd sight, the Sirius they thought to know was someone incapable of any form of gentleness...or kindness.

'They wouldn't be wrong.'

The bird hops on to his finger and they start communicating. After while, he lets out a huff of a laugh. The bird flies off, and Sirius starts walking in a different direction towards a determined destination.

A bitter smirk graces his face as he thinks of the Summoner, and the words he will say to her once he arrives.

'It's not sleepwalking this time it seems.'

He chuckles aloud again, how romantic would it be to meet up at midnight no? He tries to imagine the face she'll make once he points it out, only for his smirk to be wiped off his face, as he realizes that he can picture it a little bit too perfectly.

Footsteps echo across the empty hallway which then changes into the sound then of rustling leaves, as Sirius walks towards Contell's smallest greenhouse.

The greenhouse in particular is nothing special, with the only outstanding thing being the stained-glass roof. But even that has lost it's splendor within it's years of neglect. Though recently he's heard that Vega has decided to take an interest in repairing it. Something that had been suggested by the Summoner of course, there's little chance that Vega would have decided on something like this out of nowhere all on his own.

The sound of a violin grows louder as he enters the greenhouse, and the view of the Summoner bathed in moonlight is the first thing he sees involuntarily.

The melancholic song must have drowned out the sound of his footsteps because the Summoner remains unperturbed in her music, her eyes staying closed as she immerses herself in the little world she has created. A world where only her and the little bubble remains relevant. A world where he doesn't exist.

He leans against the glass walls, waiting for her to finish. After all, he would consider himself a criminal to disturb such a work of art.

Once her notes begin to soften and the song begins to fade, she opens her mouth and says, "Hello, Sirius. Don't you think it's a little bit too late into the night to visit the greenhouse?"

He throws his head back and laughs, amused, "Why Summoner, you're one to talk. What on Bound Arlyn could have possessed you to lug such a heavy instrument all the way out here at one in the morning?"

She makes a sour face at him, "You followed me didn't you?"

He makes a hum, the same tune as her song, as he struts forward languidly while tilting his head at her, "So what if I did? I found the idea of our Summoner walking around Contell in the middle of the night a rather intriguing thing. I'm not wrong for being curious."

"You're like a stalker."

He sighs, "I'm a little hurt, Summoner. Won't you call this a romantic encounter instead?"

There it was. The Summoner's expression had scrunched up in a strange mix of incredulity and embarrassment.

...He loved that expression. And he hated it just as much. Hates the feeling of hotness that spreads across his chest like a whip to bone. And what can a dog do other than to bite back when it hurts?

"...Besides, you wouldn't care for such things in the end." Especially if it's him. She doesn't really care when it comes to him. "The Summoner is not going to report me for this are you?"

Instead of retaliating, she simply sighs and turns away from him, holding up her violin up to her chin. His eyes remain fixated to the every slight of her movements and he thinks, 'Again.'

Again and again and again. How infuriating.

The sound of the violin echoes across the silent night, and every note becomes more punctuated than the next the longer the seconds go by. Which was around 30 really, as she abruptly stops and says;

"Of course, I am. Straight to Arcky of course."

Oh.

"I didn't know that was your preference Summoner. Asking for Spica's help would be more effective wouldn't it?"

The words are bitter on his tongue. Out of everyone, the only one with the gall (or motivation) to reprimand him would be Spica. Vega doesn't count. He doesn't get to count.

"Wouldn't it be easier to find me every night if Arcky helped you though?"

The following sound of silence is deafening in his ears, ringing loudly in the dead of the night. His hands fall limply to his side as he lets out a soft exhale.

The jig is up.

"How long have you known?" Sirius asks nonchalantly. The uncomfortable feeling in his chest is gone.

He feels lighter than before. He doesn't have to keep up his pretenses around her.

"For a while now."

The Summoner looks back at him and meets his gaze. Lowering her violin and placing it gently atop of it's case, she makes her way towards him slowly, with every step as graceful as a dancer on a stage.

He almost takes a step back but stops himself as she stands before him only a foot apart.

"I also knew that tonight, you would be here."

He needs to run away.

"Sirius?"

He needs to leave her here right now.

Or else he may be stuck here forever in this bliss.

His unfocused eyes are brought back to reality as she touches his face with her fingertips, a worried smile playing on her lips as if painted by a delicate paintbrush.

"I'm sorry," her apology rings about in the green house. "Was I too forward?"

'Maybe.'

He does not say that out loud, and instead opts to take her hands off his face — by grasping hers as gently as possible — while trying to mask the softness lingering on the edges of his expression. He then reminds himself;

'You must play the role of the villain.'

He hopes that his mask is enough to convince her of the same.

But he also knows that won't be enough.

"If I hadn't known any better," Sirius drawls. "I would have thought that the Summoner had a crush on me."

That keeps her quiet.

Run.

Before he ruins everything for her alone.

She must have heard the venom in his voice. So when her hold on him loosens slightly, he takes the opportunity to leave as fast as he can. Turning around, he pushes open the door and walks out of the greenhouse, masking his fervent escape in the guise of a stroll.

He leaves her there, her face a portrait of confusion and embarrassment. He leaves her behind.

But he knows that she'll simply catch up to him later, knowing her annoying sense of preservance.

He thinks then, he truly is cursed to the depths of the Void.

[writingfics-passingtime]

Hello my love!! For the mistake prompts:

Miracle Baby by Nothing but Thieves + Dealers choice!

This is such a fun idea😮‍💨 Happy drabbles!

Wasting My Time

This drabble is part of JJ’s Mixtape - a mini series based on my followers’ favourite songs and characters. You can read more of them here!

Song Prompt: Miracle Baby

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (romantic, no pronouns used but disclaimer that this one feels more female-implied than others)

Word Count: ~1450

CW: Swearing, mentions of drugs, explicitly implied sex

Note: First, I love the subtle roast calling this a “mistake prompt” thank you Ella 😂 this song is so cool and gave me hazy dive bar feelings, and going-home-with-hot-stranger feelings. Hope you enjoy!

Matt hated things like this.

His fingers idly tapped against the cool condensation blanketing the beer bottle on the bar in front of him, halfway torn between thinking about his trial in the morning and debating whether to go out tonight. Either way, he was itching to leave.

It was loud. The obnoxious kind of loud, not the kind where you could feel the appreciation for life and joy and merriment. Being dragged along to these stupid law school alumni mixers was the worst way to spend a Sunday evening. Yeah, you hated things like this.

But you’d just spotted the perfect distraction.

At your 10 o’clock. Tall, dark, handsome, sitting alone at the bar. Better yet, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else but here, so, common ground.

You made your way through the masses, through the thick and clogged atmosphere saturated with terrible work-related jokes and the desperation to impress. Everyone else was in a sea of familiar faces but not you. You didn’t go to Columbia for law school. You only came because your roommate was too shy to come alone and promised she wouldn’t abandon you the exact way she did about five minutes ago.

Besides, you’d only lived in New York for three months and you’d spent so much energy settling into your dream law job that you hadn’t given much attention to making friends. Or to sex. But that was about to change.

Hence, the lone wolf at the bar.

After ordering some kind of sour cherry and lime cocktail with an over-the-top name, you settled on the stool next to the man. He didn’t acknowledge you and a quick glance at his walking stick gave you an indication as to why not.

“Let me guess,” you turned your head towards him and he looked your way. “Criminal law?”

He nodded, smiling with half his mouth. “What gave it away: the cheap suit, or the air of constant dread?”

You laughed, and the sound of it made Matt’s smile crack open. “You didn’t hand me a business card the second I sat down. And the lack of white powder around your nose.”

He laughed back, and you were successfully distracted.

His name was Matt, you soon learned. Past knowing he practised criminal law and that he graduated from Columbia you learned nothing more about his law career. You told him you were new in town, he told you he’d lived here his whole life, you told him you were grateful to meet someone so normal who’s been around forever and still thinks this city is worth staying in. He asked you why you chose New York and you said it just seemed like the right place to be. You couldn’t explain in. You blushed when you admitted it and your heartbeat picked up, so maybe you were doubting that decision.

He asked you about your hometown and turned his body completely towards you. You told him about it, about escaping on scholarship to Princeton, and your knees were soon gently resting against his. Somewhere throughout the course of the conversation, he rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up to just below his elbows. He took his time, made a subtle show of it.

You sipped slowly, Matt noticed; you weren’t here to get drunk. The citrus of your drink complimented the lavender in your shampoo, body wash, whatever the fuck it was that was the calmest thing in this place. It was clear you two were getting on well. So much so, no one bothered you.

Finally, he asked: “Where do you practise?”

“Nuh-uh,” you shook your head and pulled a knotted cherry stem from your teeth. “You and I are having a nice conversation here, Matt,” you chuckled. “All I do, all fucking day, is talk about law, think about law, breathe the fucking law-”

He grinned and held up an apologetic hand. “Message received.”

“Let’s talk about anything else.”

“Okay,” he held up that same hand towards you, putting the ball squarely in your court. “Shoot.”

You narrowed your eyes and twirled the stem between your fingertips. After a moment of contemplation, knowing very well where this may lead, you decided that this tall, dark and handsome distraction was worth the risky line.

“Do you think you could beat a grizzly bear in a fight?”

His eyebrows shot up but he didn’t stutter. “Excuse me?”

“No weapons. Pure brawn. One-on-one. Who wins, you or the bear?”

“The bear,” he waved his hand decisively. “No question.”

“Thank god,” you breathed in relief, nursing a smirk behind the stem in your fingers. His puzzled look was his question, so you answered. “Six percent of American men think they could beat a grizzly bear in a fight. Which means, there are about…” you looked around in a estimate head count, “four men in this bar who vastly overestimate their abilities.”

Matt bumped his eyebrows. Another question.

“I’m just making sure you’re not one of the four,” you said after another sip. Your glass was almost empty.

“Oh?” Matt cocked his head and found himself drawn in closer. “And why is that?”

You placed your now-empty glass down, letting it hit with a finality against the wooden bar. “Forgive me if I read you wrong, just seemed like you were searching for a reason to get the hell outta here too.”

Matt let your comment linger, and lifted the bottle to his lips to take another swig. He drained the last little bit and placed it on the counter next to yours. Your heart was beating pretty fast and you tried to calm your cherry-stained breathing, tried to look cool and collected. You wanted him, and you were the perfect distraction.

“You didn’t answer the question.”

Your breath in was shaky. Risky. No one else would’ve heard it.

“I’m just making sure I’m not wasting my time,” you said. “It’s not usually that fun, going home with a man who thinks they’re more capable than they actually are.”

He laughed once through his nose and pulled his beaten leather wallet from his coat pocket, placing thirty on the table to cover his beer, your cocktail and a tip for the bartender. “Trust me, sweetheart,” he stood and held his open palm out to you. You took his hand and left your stool with your coat and bag over your other arm. He leaned down, leaned in, so you could hear his husky promise over the sound of the bar. “You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Sufficed to say, you had never met a more capable man.

His place was nice, his sheets were clean, he was strong and generous and attentive and that was a big problem. Because this was supposed to just be a distraction. A one-night thing. But it was hard to leave his bed at two thirty in the morning, it felt like tearing yourself away. And that was a problem.

Stay, he’d said. He had fresh towels, a toothbrush, he’d call you a cab in the morning after he’d made you coffee. I can’t, you said. On any other night you would have, but tomorrow was a big day. He understood, didn’t press the matter, and he called you a cab after wishing you a twenty-minute goodbye.

It was only at quarter to nine that same morning, when you were walking up the front steps with a takeaway coffee in hand, that you realised you didn’t have any way to contact him other than through your roommate, who might have his information. You didn’t even know Matt’s last name.

Matt thought about you as Foggy prepped the client in hushed whispers from the defence table. As he straightened files and pens and his personal voice recorder, he wondered when he’d run into you again. You’d been a good distraction. Too good. It was like you were still next to him, like he could still smell the cherry and lime, the lavender and honey and-… wait.

You settled next to your boss and put thoughts of last night out of your head, ready and focused to take on the day. It was a big one. For the first time since moving to New York, you were the lead on a case.

Matt’s mind raced as he listened to every whisper in the courtroom, and as he listened to them hush as the judge kicked off proceedings from the bench.

“Are we ready to begin?” Judge Wallace asked in a deadpan, looking straight to the defence’s table. Foggy stood.

“Defence is ready, Your Honour.”

From fifteen feet away, Matt heard the prosecutor stand. He closed his eyes behind his glasses and held in a sigh when he heard your voice say:

“Thank you, Your Honour. The State is ready to proceed.”

Oh… fuck.

[thefreakandthehair]

@eddiemonth prompt, oct 22nd:  First concert | Triumph of King Freak - Rob Zombie | Eager a/n: a missing scene from an older fic, counting stars (when I look in your eyes)! post-canon fix, eddie pov, established steddie, fluff with a dash of angst, mention of eddie's late mother read on ao3 + ao3 masterpost | tumblr masterlist

December, 1988

“Why does your acoustic have that written on it? ‘This Machine Slays Dragons’?” Steve asks as he watches Eddie strum without looking at his hands. It’s a bit mesmerizing, the way his fingers glide along the strings of their own accord. 

The song stops and Eddie slaps the body of the guitar in his lap. 

“This old girl is an homage to one Woody ‘This Machine Kills Fascists’ Guthrie. Ever heard of him?” 

“He did ‘This Land Is Your Land,’ right?”

Eddie claps his hands together and points two finger guns his way. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner. Yeah, he wrote that and a shit ton of other political critique folk music.” 

“I didn’t know you liked that sort of thing. Sounds pretty far removed from Metallica, y’know?”

“Only in delivery. You’d be surprised how much overlap there is in meaning. But yeah, my uh—” Eddie stops and pulls the guitar closer to his torso and swallows the dust in his mouth that’s gathered from years of not talking about his mother. “My mom was a big fan of it. She loved Guthrie, Baez, Dylan, Grateful Dead, Cohen. You name it, she loved it.” 

Steve’s heart tries to claw its way out of his body to run towards Eddie sitting on the floor with his back against the wall, timid smile, and fidgeting hands. 

“That’s really cool, man. She sounds awesome. How come you don’t talk about her more?” 

“It just—I don’t know. It still hurts, I guess. Which is stupid, I was eight when she died so it should get easier, right?” Eddie laughs humorlessly and stares at his strings like they hold answers to questions he didn’t know he had. He wants to crawl on top of Steve, desperate for warmth and comfort now, and looking at him makes the urge damn near impossible to beat back. So he doesn’t look up. 

Steve adjusts his position on the bed, subconsciously making room. “Hell no, that’s not how grief works, Ed. Wish it was that easy but I’ve seen a lot of death personally and with work, and it changes people. You can tell me to fuck off if I’m like, overstepping here but you were a kid. You’re allowed to be sad about her death, and you’re allowed to talk about it.” 

Eddie pauses for a long moment, considering the validation and how much he trusts Steve. He trusts him with his life, his soul, his heart, his  everything. Maybe everything could include his past, too. His voice is wistful when he starts.

“She used to sing Dylan’s ‘Forever Young’ around the house.”

December, 1974

Eddie sits cross-legged on the floor, threadbare couch behind him as he flips through a comic book gifted to him by his Uncle Wayne. The page crinkle with each turn and he traces the illustrations of each villain and superhero, the words a bit lost on him but the pictures jumping off of the page. Varying shades of saturated reds and blues disappear and reappear beneath his pointer finger and grins. He hasn’t read the story yet– he prefers to make up his own first– but he can see that the good guy is about to win. 

Happy endings are just so rare in real life. 

His mom is in the kitchen, singing softly and stirring something on the stove in a corroded aluminum pot. Eddie picks up the delicate scents of tomatoes and peppers, maybe some kind of meat. She’s been in a bright mood today, singing as she cooks, singing as she did her best to clean up the beer cans and bottles that litter the living room. Eddie even heard her singing in the shower that morning.

It’s not lost on him that his dad’s been gone for a few days. Hell, that’s the only reason he’s able to sit in the living room: there’s room for him. 

His dad is always too loud, drowning out the soft soprano of his mother’s voice. Everything she sings sounds like a lullaby, so it’s fitting that Eddie closes his eyes to listen. 

Eddie loves when his mom sings, especially the song she’s singing now. 

May you always be courageous

Stand upright and be strong

May you stay forever young

May you stay forever young

She never tells him, but he feels like she sings it just for him. 

November 1990

Steve hasn’t been this nervous to give Eddie a Christmas gift since that first Christmas of theirs two years ago. Funny enough, the gift then had been related to his late mother, too. Maybe he has a pattern. The envelope shakes in his hands as he sits next to Eddie on the couch– their couch, actually. At least as of a few months ago when they’d put down their down payment on the small, one-bedroom apartment in the heart of Indianapolis. 

Eddie glances over and sees Steve’s right hand nearly crumpling whatever his gift is, his fingertips white and his smile tight. Whatever it is must be time sensitive, since he’s insisted on giving it to Eddie so early. 

“What is it, Steve? You look like you’re gonna shit yourself.”

Steve laughs, nervous and breathy. “I actually might, and we just bought this couch, so. Just– here. Open it.”

He pries the envelope from Steve’s hand and tears it open, Steve having to caution him against ripping it in half and voiding the fucking the gift. Three rectangles fall out onto his lap, full of typewriter style font. 

“Oh shit, concert tickets!” Eddie smiles and knocks his knee against Steve’s. “Why were you so nervous? This is awesome!” 

Steve nods at the tickets. “Did you see who it is?”

Eddie’d been too excited about finally getting to a proper concert, one that he doesn’t have to set up and break down with Gareth, Jeff, and Frank. When he looks down and actually reads the headliner, his heart stops. 

University of Dayton Arena Presents: BOB DYLAN TUESDAY, NOV 13 1990 7:30 PM

“Steve… is this…?” He can’t find the words, buried and lodged behind the lump forming in his throat. 

Steve watches him carefully as he traces the letters with one finger, a habit he’s picked up on over the years, and gently rests a hand on his thigh and gives it a squeeze. “You okay?” 

Eddie nods. “Yeah, yeah, I’m definitely okay.” 

Okay is an understatement. He’s bewildered, he’s humbled, he’s ecstatic. When Eddie tears himself away from the small rectangles that sit on his lap like the gold bars they are, he looks at Steve with wonderment. First, the music box. Now, this. How is he ever going to keep up? 

“I know it’s your first concert but I saw that he was coming around and I just figured it’d be cool, y’know? I don’t know who he’s touring with or anything–” 

He does this, Steve knows. He knows that he rambles when he’s nervous or when he’s put himself out there and for some reason, giving Eddie these tickets feels incredibly vulnerable. Even years later, even after Eddie’s constant reassurance that he could never, Steve would hate for Eddie to think that he’s encroaching on special memories. 

Before he can finish his stream of thought, Eddie kisses him. Just leans over, tickets still in his lap, and claps both hands on either side of his cheeks as Eddie plants one on him. Then again. And again. And again. 

Eddie peppers every inch of Steve’s face with kisses, interjecting in between each one. 

“You’re–” Kiss to the nose. 

“So fucking–” Kiss to the cheek. 

“Perfect–” Kiss to the forehead. 

When he finishes, Eddie rests his forehead against Steve’s and wraps his arms around Steve’s neck, feeling them shake beneath him as Steve laughs. “Always so dramatic.” 

“And you love it. But, wait,” Eddie pulls back and picks the tickets back up. “Why are there three?” 

“Do you honestly think Wayne would ever speak to me again if I got tickets for Bob Dylan and didn’t include him? C’mon, man. Christmas would be so fucking awkward.”

[cyberrose2001]

As ur request are still open:

Have you ever thought of Drunk tfp Ratchet👁👁

I had this idea a minute ago while I am texting this phrase right here so eh let me continue, I thought it would be also a good idea to request this especially for you! But idk for what, maybe you could take ur time on choosing any type of way to describe in your eyes how he would be drunk, i think as an x reader or headcanon would be nice I just want to see your thoughts in it, sfw or nsfw

Ps: I'm kinda of a newbie on the fanfic community so uhm that's why I texted all of that-

TFP Ratchet Drunk Headcanons

You know me too well, Anon.... i certainly have.

I would write a scenario but I'm in the middle of five nightshifts so this will be all for now, thank you for requesting! <3

Reader is human fem.

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, SFW and NSFW headcanons.

SFW

It takes quite a lot of high-grade energon just for Ratchet to feel a slight buzz. He would have to consume well over ten cubes of straight high-grade to get him into a state of drunkness, and by that point, he's already combing through the drawers of the med bay, showing anyone within reach of him his different tools and over-explaining what they're used for.

He'll slur his words while he waves around a hammer and then moves on to a very sharp scalpel, much to your horror.

"Y/n, did yoooou know that I have had this particular scalpel for... ten thousand vorns? HA! Still as sharp as ever."

"Honey, please don't play with sharp objects while drunk."

He can be very expressive while drunk, picking you up to sloppily pepper your face with kisses, telling you how much he loves you and how grateful he is to have you as his spark mate.

"Cybertron can shove a stick up its aft. I am never leaving Earth. I wanna stay here with yoooou." 

Akin to a child, it will take a lot of convincing to get Ratchet into berth, eventually getting Bulkhead to guide him to bed with you trailing behind.

Ratchet will want you to stay with him as he eventually falls into a self-deprecating mess, drunkenly voicing how he wishes he could be more useful to the team instead of waiting on the sidelines.

Lots of reassurance combined with helm cuddles and kisses.

NFSW

As stated above, Ratchet gets very touchy-feely while drunk.

After you had convinced him to put down the surgical tools, he'll bend down with a sly smirk on his faceplates.

"Perhaps I could show you my other... sharp tool... heh."

Once you're both finally in berth, he'll trail a servo across your ass and squeeze it. His helm would be buried deep in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating smell as he does so, and you can smell the high grade on his breath as he breathes into your skin.

And as much as you'd love to sleep, his touches kindle a fire in your stomach, a burning fire that only your mech could extinguish.

He would be too intoxicated to frag you into the berth, instead picking you up and placing you on his intake after he had stripped you bare of your clothes.

He'll sloppily kiss and suck at your folds before burying his glossa deep inside you, moaning into your pussy, causing vibrations that send your mind for a spin.

Ratchet will continue to eat you out as you brace your arms against his helm, a servo on your thigh and one fondling one of your breasts.

You'll become an overstimulated mess by the time Ratchet slowly drags his glossa against your walls and out of your now-saturated pussy, licking his dermas in satisfaction.

After cleaning you up with his glossa, Ratchet will spoon your bare body for the rest of the night, a digit tracing circles on your thigh to lull himself to sleep.

[cerridwen007]

Corruption of Innocence. Part 1.

Pairing: Matt Murdock x f!reader.

Word count: 5K (18+) minors dni!

Summary: You are the main topic of daydreams that have recently been flooding Matt's mind. Ever since he met you, you've held a strong place in his head. Every part of him has become obsessed with you, the thought of loving you, growing old together and the thought of taking your innocence for himself frequently saturate his thoughts. 

Notes/warnings: SMUT, horny af Matt, possessive/obsessive Matt, soft Matt, dirty talk, oral (male receiving), suggesting of p in v, power dynamic, unhealthy relationship, obsessive reader, sub reader, virgin reader, dom Matt, masturbation, dirty talk, no use of y/n.

A/N: Okay like I said in bio, I am quite new to tumblr and fanfic writing so I'm experimenting with a few different writing styles/conventions, level of detail and overall subject in the fics. So if you want to let me know if you found this smut enjoyable/easy to read, that would be much appreciated thanks. Also I am currently writing part 2 and was going to wait till I was further into writing with that but I just couldn’t wait to post this. I love it too much. I just wanna add that I am so grateful for the love and interaction I've received on my writing. I honestly never would have thought that so many of you would read my work let alone enjoy it, so for that I thank you and hope I can continue to deliver pieces of writing y'all enjoy. 

Corruption of Innocence. Part 2.

***********

He was obsessed with you, like no man has been or ever will. Not that it was hard or anything, you were a very good looking girl that had turned a few heads in her time, but no one had seemed to appreciate you like he did. Matt had his fair share of relationship, hookups, onenight stands and such but none of them had fulfilled anything more that his animalistic want to fuck. 

You were a different breed, rare, one of a kind, everytime he touched you he felt chills that rain throughout his entire body, setting his soul on fire and freezing it simultaneously. It was like touching an angel, you were healing his soul.

“Ah Matt, are you okay, did you need something?” you asked, a little confused at the man who had been standing in front of you for a while now.

He had been daydreaming in front of you, he had thought of you many times in many different scenarios but he never had been lost in his thoughts of you in the same room, let alone right in front of you.

“Oh.. ah yeah that’s right I wanted to see if you could reschedule the appointment I had with the Lopez family for Thursday instead of Friday." Matt choked out.

“Sure. anything else, boss?” you asked innocently.

A million thoughts raced across his mind. You slowly but enthusiastically sucking his dick, taking all of his length that you could before you choked, pulling it back out and teasing the tip of your tongue, precum dripping into your mouth, with a single drop escaping from the corner of your mouth. You were not looking away as his head dropped back between his shoulders, a loud grunt coming from his throat as he exhaled. Every wet swipe of your tongue sent shivers down his spine. That little scenario was one of many that often flashed brightly across his mind like an advertisement.

Matt quickly cleared his throat and as subtly as he could dropped the case file he was holding a little lower in attempts to hide his growing excitement. “No, that will be all…. Thank you.”

He quickly walked away to try and dissect that awkward encounter alone in his office and if he could stop thinking about you, do some work too. Which was very unlikely. He closed the door to his office and sat down behind the desk in a huff. He put his face in his hands and deeply exhaled. He was very confused about many things all surrounding you. You were like his kryptonite and anti-venom all at once.

Ever since you entered his life 6 months ago, becoming his new assistant and eventually even entering his friend group, he had been fascinated by you (especially because you were so hard to read unlike everyone else in his life) which quickly led to obsession.

He had always been a charmer and good with girls even in university (though his skills have much increased since then). But it had always been easy for him to bed any girl he wanted and that wanted him. And knowing the slut he is, it was many, very frequently. But around you he often became awkward and struggled to get the right words out, if any at all.

He was both frustrated and loved that you made him this way, very different to the experience he had with other girls. You were so perfect in every way, kind, caring, funny, sassy when you wanted to be, intelligent, had many talents and hobbies, confident and more. Yet he had many conflicting thoughts about you.

He wanted to spend hours sensually kissing every inch of your body, to study it so he could know it like the back of his hand, yet he also wanted to make you scream out his name as he claimed your pussy was his and nobody else's. His daydreams of you were often filled with starting a family with you and meeting your family and adopting pets together then quickly turned into how fucking pretty you would look as you pathetically whimpered his name, too drunk on his cock to form any other words than that. 

He was torn about having dirty thoughts about you, especially having no idea if the feelings were reciprocated. On one hand he felt almost gross thinking such dirty thoughts about a girl who came across as quite innocent especially compared to his previous romances but on the other side of him, maybe even the devil in him got even more worked up thinking about taking your innocence and being the only one allowed to praise and use your body. Corrupting you for his own entertainment.

***********

You were a class A simp. Since early teen years, you had a problem with getting crushes and becoming obsessed with them. It started off like any crush of course giggling and blushing at everything they say about you, but soon it became more, too much in fact. You would put them on such a high pedestal you would disregard and not even acknowledge any questionable or bad traits they had, even if your friends tried to warn you about it. You would simply brush it off saying it was nothing. They would appear in your dreams frequently, you would often find yourself talking to yourself and daydreaming about what it would be like to be with them and spend the rest of your lives together. 

All this infatuation led to severe disappointment, after a long while; sometimes up to years and years, the hazy cloud of perfection that you viewed them through would slowly disappear for one reason or another and you would crumble. You were a very sensitive and emotional person so it felt like your heart was literally breaking every time this happened. All over some of the shittest guys that would barely even look your way. 

You had gotten alot better since then. It had taken a long time to get over and past this self spiralling routine you had; lots of counselling and long talks with friends and just a lot more focusing on yourself. In fact for the last 3 years you had managed to stay away from developing severely unhealthy crushes, just keeping it nice and casual with the few guys that you had briefly dated, reminding yourself to look out for red flags and not to put them on some sort of perfection pedestal in your mind. You were quite proud of yourself and it was going good till you met Matt Murdock.

Looking back at all the guys you had previously become attached to, they were all pretty shitty. Either they were misogynistic or racist or made snide and creepy jokes or all three. Matt was nothing like that. You made sure you kept notes of anything out of pocket he would say and how he would act around others and had found no red flags. 

Yes, he was a bit of a flirt with other women (which you would deny to yourself but made you a little jealous) but he would alway keep it respectful and know that the girl felt comfortable around him. Still you tried your best to not think or acknowledge him more than you have to at work and social gatherings, still determined to withhold the new values you kept for yourself involving men. But it sure was damn hard. He was pretty fucken perfect.

Over the last month, as much as you hated yourself for it, you found yourself again slipping into your old, bad habits. You tried everything to stop it, distracting yourself with cleaning and cooking and hanging out with friends and everything else you could think of. None of which did much at all. The one thing that did seem to help stop or slow your growing infatuation for Matt was one thing. 

You were inexperienced, and I'm talking very inexperienced. The furthest you had gotten was a very awkward teeth banging into each other's makeout session that resulted in chipping the guy's tooth. You always tried your best to forget that memory. Even though you had been on a few dates with a few different guys it never got very far because of your fear of intimacy. I mean don't get me wrong you would love to be fucked the shit out of and then cuddle after and do allsorts of dirty stuff in the bedroom. Lord knows you thought about it often but you never had the balls to actually do any of that stuff. 

Whenever there was an opportunity, you panicked and kept overthinking about everything. Does your breath smell bad, what if you accidentally bite him too hard, what if he is actually a mad scientist and he's going to steal your DNA and make a clone out of you?! All this stuff was actually just anxiety. The real reason you had never gotten very far is because you were scared, so scared of being so vulnerable with someone, letting them into your most secret thoughts and letting them see you whole, imperfections and all. You were so caught up in your insecurity, that you never let anyone truly in, afraid of not being good enough causing them to leave you. So when Matt had asked you if you wanted to hang out at his place tonight, one on one, since Karen, Foggy and Marci were all busy, you got really nervous and spit out an awkward “..Yes!... sure I'd love to.”

**********

“Great, I'll see you at 8 tonight.” Matt said calmly. But he wasn't calm at all. In fact he too was quite nervous as being with you in the office or in a group setting it was hard to keep his hands off you. Your scent drove him wild, oftentimes throughout the day at work he would have to sneak off to the bathroom and relieve himself, driven mad by your pheromones filling his nostrils, making his cock throb in pain. Imagining it was your soft hand or wet mouth relieving him instead.

He honestly didn't know what came over himself asking you to come over to his place by yourself so the two of you could hang. He had no clue how he was going to keep his dick under wraps having your strong scent be right under his nose at all times. He certainly wouldn't be able to sneak off to the bathroom during the night to ease the pain. The thoughts continually plagued his mind through the rest of the evening at work and throughout his walk home. He pushed the thoughts aside when he got home though, having instead to focus on tidying up his place a little and getting ready for you.

After giving his place a little clean up and ordering the takeout food in advance to come 30 mins after you arrive, he decided to have a shower to calm his nerves before you came. He turned on the water to the temperature he likes and stripped his clothes off, stepping in the shower he sighs deep, warm water relaxing his tension filled muscles. The hot spray easing his muscles, his mind begins to wander again. Without thinking one of his hands brush against thick thighs as he pictures how the awkward conversation earlier could have gone. 

“Sure,anything else boss?” you ask innocently.

Matt's friendly smile turns into a devilish grin. “ I might have one thing in mind that you could help me with, honey.”

You gulp nervously but intrigued. “And what would that be Mr. Murdock?”

Matt chuckles deeply and leans into the desk, very close to your face. “ Make my cock as wet as your pussy is getting right now!”

Matt slowly starts to stroke his firming dick, deep breathes concealed by the noise of the shower raining down on his broad back.

Your voice hitches in your throat as your cheeks redden a dark crimson, you nod and say “yes” in a small voice. You stand up from your desk and walk around to Matthew staring at you with a dark look in his covered eyes. You slowly get on your knees in front of him and begin to unbuckle his belt and undo his zipper. You warily look around for Foggy nearby in the office or anyone else visiting. Matt lifts up your chin softly and wipes his thumb over your bottom lip.

“Don't worry about anyone catching us sweetheart, I'm sure you'll make me cum before anyone finds us.” he smirks, giving you a tender rub on your cheek with his thumb before removing it.

Your cheeks continue to blush and you smile a little.You fasten your pace undoing Matt’s belt and pull down his dress pants. He reaches down and pulls his hard cock loose from his black boxers. You gasp a little intimidated by the sheer size of the veiny monster before you. Without thinking you grab the shaft firmly and put your lips around the head.  Matt quietly groans as his head falls back between his shoulders. You start to bob your head on his tip while stroking the rest of his length with your hand, slick from your saliva dripping down it. 

Breathing deeper and louder, Matt begins to stroke faster and harder on his throbbing cock in the shower. The steam and his sweat make his toned muscles glisten in the low light in the bathroom. Soft moans escape his lips as he strokes wishing like hell that it was your soft hands and mouth, pleasing him instead of his rough calloused hands.

You pussy throbs softly, your panties completely soaking.The smell and sound of your arousal make him growl deeply. Your hunger grows and grows the longer you suck his dick. Each time you bob your head down his shaft you try and take a little more of his length down your throat, desperately fighting back the urge to gag as tears begin to prick your eyes. You fasten your pace stroking him as his moans become louder, sensing he is close. Your teeth lightly graze him for a few seconds causing him to cum.

“Fuck!” Matt groans as he caresses his throbbing cock to the end of his high. 

You slurp up everything leaving no trace making Matt moan deeply. He reaches down to wipe away some droplets that have fallen out the corner of your mouth. Smirking he puts his flaccid cock back into his boxers and does up his pants zipper and belt.

“Fuck that was good, sweetheart!”

Foggy suddenly walks in on the two of you, not having a single clue about the activities that had just occurred seconds ago.

“What are you two doing ?” he asked. You both swiftly look back at Foggy.

“Oh… um… I was just helping Matt tie his shoe.”

Foggy raises his eyebrow in suspicion. 

“Yeah she was helping me cause I pulled my back last night… exercising.” Matt says cooly.

“Right! Exercising… yup, that makes sense!” Foggy replies back to Matt thinking he understood what Matt was covering for. “ Well I'm heading out to Josie’s to meet Karen and Marci who are already there, so I'll see you later?”

“Yup,we’ll be there Foggy!” you say peering from beside Matt's legs. Foggy grins and walks out. Matt waits till Foggy has left the office completely before telling you the coast is clear.

“Okay he is gone!”

“Whew, that was a bit close.” you say as you slowly stand on your sore knees.

“Yeah too close.”  he says while offering a hand up. You, looking at the ground, don't see it and accidently hit your head on it while standing up.

“ Oh shit! Are you okay?” Matt asks you, suddenly very seriously.

“Yeah, I'm okay.” you wince a little before laughing. Matt starts to laugh too.

He leans his forehead against the cool shower tile and deeply exhales. Letting the water wash away any remaining residue of his expulsion. God, not only did he want your body so bad but he also just wanted to be the one who you laugh with, the one who makes corny jokes that you try not to giggle at, the one who makes you smile lovingly at him when he says how pretty you look. Before he can get anymore lost in his thoughts, a knock at the door breaks him from his fantasies. 

“Shit.'' Matt mumbles under his breath even though you won't hear him (he forgets others don't have super hearing like him sometimes) and quickly scrambles to turn the water off and put a towel around his waist. He walks quickly down his hall and opens the door to your confused face, with your heart rate quickening.

“Uh sorry to greet you like this I…. lost track of time in the shower….. Uh but come in, come in. I'll just quickly change. But uh make yourself at home.”

You gulp, trying to not let your eyes wander too much at the sight of Matthew only in a small white towel hanging loosely on hips. His toned abs glisten in the light, still wet from his shower. His v-line looks deliciously good with a happy trail that leads down to the tiniest bit of dark hair you can see before the towel covers the view.

“Yeah, okay sure.” you say awkwardly as Matt steps aside letting you in and closes the door. He has a wide smirk on his face as walks slowly to his bedroom to change, noticing how your heart rate has spiked since you saw him, more than half naked.

You go to sit down on his cold leather couch and nervously begin to fiddle with your fingers, knees drawn tightly together, chewing the inside of your mouth as you do. What am I doing here? You think to yourself. It wouldn't be so bad if I just got up now and left, it wouldn't be that awkward avoiding Matt for the rest of my life right? I mean I'd probably have to quit my job if he didn't fire me out of pure hatred first though. 

Before you can spiral anymore, Matt walks in wearing a tight black t-shirt and light grey track pants and of course a small grin on his face. He goes to sit down beside you, so close he can easily feel your heat radiating off your body onto his. 

“So.. I ordered some Thai food earlier that should arrive in 25 minutes or so if that's cool, I would cook but…”

“Yeah, Thai food sounds good and yeah Karen told me that you're not a very skilled chef mainly due to the lack of ingredients you have on hand and that you don't really like grocery stores either. No offence of course.” 

“No offence taken… You’ve been talking with Karen about me?” he says, the corner of his mouth pulling upwards and one eyebrow raising.

You shuffle in your seat and feel your cheeks warm. Looking down at the ground awkwardly you respond.

“Uh.. Yeah, well I mean no…..well, not all the time of course….. I just, um there’s a few questions that I had about you that came up in conversation…naturally of course.”

He leans in near your ear and whispers. “Well, if there are any more questions that you have. I'm right here to answer them for you.” 

Your face grows redder, you draw in a sharp breath, your thighs unconsciously push together tighter as the heat starts to grow deep in your stomach, catching you off guard with his sultry tone. He notices your heart rate quickening, and the ever growing prominent taste of your arousal in the air. He breathes it in deeply, humming darkly as the sweet aroma fills his nostrils, subtly palming his growing excitement a little through his pants for some relief. He smirks, gathering all the more evidence to support his suspicion that you want him like he wants you.

“Well, I have one question.” you ask shyly.

“And what would that be, honey?”

Your breath hitches in your throat for a second, so you swallow and press on. “I have noticed sometimes that…. that you seem to be more sensitive, like a lot more sensitive to certain things then the rest of us. You pause for a second looking up at his face trying to read his expression before continuing on. “ For example when that squeaky client comes in for an appointment to talk about divorcing her husband, you always look miserable like you're getting a migraine just being near her and her annoying high-pitched voice.”

“Huh, sure seems like you’ve been watching me closely sweetheart.” he responds, teasing you.

Your heart seems to be beating out of your chest as he talks very close to your ear in a slightly deeper voice than his usual, each nickname he refers to you by only makes your pussy wetter. You're afraid that soon a tear will dribble down your leg if he keeps his flirtatious act up.

“Ah, forget I said anything.” you respond, quickly trying to dismiss the topic.

“No, keep going, it’s fine, seems like you care about me.”

“Well yeah, of course I care about you, you're my boss…. and my friend and I just wanted to know if there is anything that I can do… to make it easier for you in those situations I mean.”

Matt eyebrows raise, a little taken aback. Touched at how thoughtful and caring you are, his smile beaming brightly, knowing that you think about him more than just between your thighs, although he's pretty happy about that too. 

“Wow, that’s very kind of you to offer, but you don’t have to worry about me, I've gotten used to dealing with it.” He pauses. “ but… I mean if I suddenly can't deal with it and need some help…I'll let you know.”

You smile sweetly back at him. “Great.” 

 A moment passes between you comfortable in each other's presence before it changes back to sexual tension. You both lean in close, so close you can feel his breath on your lips. Your heart feels as though it will flutter right out of your chest. You bite your lip as Matt subtly licks his bottom lip and grins. His senses overwhelmed happily by your rapidly racing heart, the heat radiating off you and the strong scent of your arousal filling the air. Your eyes flutter close as you lean in further, lips softly brushing against one another. A knock at the door makes you pull back surprised and Matt leans his head down and sighs.

“Well, that’ll be the Thai food.” he tells you, a little annoyed.

You sit awkwardly on Matt’s couch in silence while he pays for the food and brings it to his coffee table. You both sit in silence a good 5 minutes into your meal before you speak, neither party knowing how to seamlessly carry on from the conversation you had before or the almost kiss. You work up the nerve to speak and clear your throat.

“How did you become blind Matt?” you ask him blatantly, catching him off guard. “You don’t have to tell me if you don't want to or you're not comfortable or anything…but I never asked you because I assumed it might be rude but if it's alright I'm curious to know about it.”

“No, it's fine, I can tell you.” Matt takes a deep breath before starting his story. As he speaks, you feel yourself hanging onto every word he says, your eyebrows creased together, listening to him speak about his sorrowful story.

As he finishes talking, you can’t help but stare at him in awe at how much he has been through, yet he still keeps a smile on his face everyday and manages to be such a joyful light in everyone's path he crosses. You feel yourself falling for this man more and more as he opens up to you and shows you a side that you have never seen. You then think “fuck” how am I going to get over this man when he lets me inevitably lets you down, thinking back to your previous obsessive one-sided relationships. God dammit, you were in love with this man.

Matt looks down at his feet feeling a little melancholic after talking about such a sensitive topic for him.

“Thank you… thanks for being so open with me… I know how hard it can be to fully open up and be vulnerable like that.”

Matt smiles, nodding. “Thank you for listening.”

Another silent pause ensues between you, yet this time it's comfortable. Like two longtime friends who have grown to enjoy sitting comfortably in each other's presence without the need for words.

Matt suddenly chuckles to himself. You look at him confused but smiling, fork halfway to your mouth before you stop. “What?”

“Nothing.” Matt says, still smiling to himself.

“No it's not, what is it? Tell me!” you say getting a little impatient, still with a grin.

“Oh it's just some old, dumb question that I used to ask the guys at uni, whenever there was a lull in conversation to lighten the mood.”

“Okay, well ask me then.”

Matt stares at you for a second, grinning before asking you.

“Okay fine. When was the last time you….you know, (you raise your eyebrow intrigued) masterbated?”

“Oh?” you respond blushing, not expecting him to ask you that.

“You don't have to answer that if you don't want to… I shouldn't have said anything, like I said it was a dumb thing I did in college an-” Matt rushes to say.

You giggle, smiling. “No it's fine, I'll answer… I just didn't expect that was what you were going to say.”

Matt smiles shyly. 

“Uh it was like 2 days ago I think.” 

“Oh, cool….cool.” Matt gulping, can't help but let his mind run to thinking about you masturbating to the thought of him. Using your fingers feverishly to try to stimulate the longing you had for him to be between your thighs instead. Crying out his name over and over wishing it was him filling your hole instead of your fingers. Matt is brought back into consciousness when you speak.

“So what about you, when did you last beat your meat?”

Matt chuckles again, at your interesting way of saying masturbate before thinking back to the activity he had just finished doing in the shower before you arrived.

“Uh, earlier today.”

“Okay… but when is ‘earlier’.”

Matt exhales, hoping his answer will make you wet at the thought of. “Before you got here, in the shower.” Matt leans in closer to you, his lips ghosting your ear, his smile turning into a sinful grin. “Actually, right before you got here, sweetheart.” he says darkly.

Your body acts on its own. Goosebumps run throughout your body, your heat pooling once again between your thighs as a quiet but clear moan escapes your lips. Not holding back at all Matt carries on.

“Does that turn you on,sweetheart?” Matt purrs, putting your takeout containers on his coffee table. You bite your lip trying to suppress another whimper leaving your mouth. “Does it make you wet just thinking about how I fucked into my hand moments before you arrived…thinking about you?” he growls. You look at him.

“Matt..” you ask breathlessly. For once your over-thinking brain can’t pull you from the present, too hypnotised by the low seductive words leaving Matt smirking mouth, each word making your panties more and more drenched.

“What sweetheart? Wanna know what I was thinking about when I came?” 

You whimper, nodding. Matt puts his hand on the top of your thigh lightly, slowly rubbing it back and forth. He takes a deep breath of your addicting arousal. He swallows hard, eyes shutting for a second. His cock throbs, straining against his boxers. 

“I was thinking about your pretty little mouth, tightly wrapped around my dick in the office. So hungry to take every inch you could, so enthusiastically licking up every drop of mine.” 

Matt, noticing how flustered you were getting, puts his hand on your inner thighs and rubs it closer to your warming middle. 

“I think of you often while I fuck into my hand. Think about fucking you so hard that you’re pathetically falling apart on my cock, failing to say any words other than my name.”

You're so horny, you're struggling to keep from touching yourself right now or even better using Matt’s hand to fuck you instead. You look down and see how tightly wound up Matt is too, which causes your pussy to painfully throb, needing him to fill you up badly. 

Panting, you lean in closer to Matt, letting your lips brush against one another before making contact. The kiss at first soft and sweet quickly deepens into something hungrier, lustful. Matt wraps his hands around your jaw, tightly securing your face to his. His tongue suddenly shoots out of his mouth and makes its way in yours. You can’t help but moan loudly in his mouth, his hands start roaming your body. He goes to put his hand on your panties but you suddenly pull away.

“Ooh did I go too fast? Did I do something to make you feel uncomfortable? Matt rushes to say, looking concerned.

“Oh no, no… it’s not you at all, it's just…i’ve never really done this before.” you sigh and quietly whisper “I…I..I’m a virgin.”

Matt smiles a little trying to ignore the twitch that your words made his cock feel.

“That's all sweetheart?” 

“Your not repulsed by that, the fact that I don’t know what I'm doing, that I don’t know how to please a man-”

“Not at all…if im being honest sweetheart.” he leans in and whispers, making you shiver. “It makes me want you more.”

You bite your lip surprised by his reaction, a shaky exhale leaving your mouth. He looks at you, eyes full of lust.

“Do you want me to continue?” he says, gesturing down to your thighs.

You nod and he pauses waiting for a verbal response.

“Yes. Yes Matt, I want you to touch me.”

******

[polyamzeal]

dont have to answer if its too long/not the purpose of the blog:

i dont know how to word this but: im scared that i’ve developed a crush on another person (i already have 2 partners) and im scared that a. one of my partners might feel left out (?) bc we dont talk super often (they have super strict and homophobic parents) b. it took me like 4 months of pining over the guy who ended up being my second partner so if everything is okay with everyone i think i would take too long and if they even feel anything for me, that they might lose it (nearly happened with my now boyfriend) c. actually asking them out (i dont even know if they would date a poly person). as more context, i am aroace pan-platonic and my partners are qpps

im grateful for any advice i can get

A few things. It is important for us to evaluate what our poly-saturation limit is. And it is super important to understand that isn't just simple numbers. Someone with 2 very close partners might be more saturated than the same person with 4 long-distance partners. It is about how much emotional bandwidth you have, how much time certain partners require and so on.

So once you figure that out then next talk to your partners and let them know you think you are crushing on someone but you want to make they know their needs still come first so to let you know if they feel like they aren't getting enough of your attention or if there are other ways you can fulfil them more.

To be honest I am not sure I understand point 'B' but each relationship has its own pacing. Sometimes our connections to people are slow burns and other times they are flash fires! So just go with the flow and what you are comfortable with.

Finding out if they are open to a polyam person is important. If not then you might have nothing to worry about. And remember that often it is fine for a crush to just remain a crush and never go anywhere. Sometimes that is even more enjoyable than developing it into a committed relationship. So enjoy it for what it is.

[2n2n]

I love the opening song of jibaku shounen hanako-kun and when I see the comments and reviews about the anime, there are a lot of positive reviews about the opening. So out of curiosity, what do you think of the opening in question, music and other aspects. And if there's anything you don't like

I have talked a bit about the mysterious lyrics of it here, if that's interesting (it might not be).... I'm really intrigued that it is a bespoke song for the anime ABOUT its subjects-- not just a pop song retooled or something-- I find that sweet, for aidairo-sensei it must have felt like a dream.

as for the OP's audio, it's not really my genre or style of music. It's kind of typical sounding for an anime OP, lol.... you know, 'cool'. I find it difficult to listen to all the way through-- for me, the sound is grating & unpleasant.

.... I would also say it doesn't quite suit the story to me.... ? It's 'cool' in such a straightforward way, when this is 'a heartfelt toilet comedy' as aidairo-sensei put it... it's neither particularly ah, playful, nor tender. In terms of sound/tone it feels like it could be the OP of any shounen, like a BNHA, or a sports anime. Even if lyrically, it's doing something quite intriguing.... I wish the instruments had more of a ghost-y feel to them, if nothing else... but ideally, I want a hint of romance!!

As for the visual component, I like the Yugi imitating each other's gestures, and I overall like the high-saturation or jewel-tone color of the anime. It's mostly just re-using shots from the anime itself, so I can only comment on so much of the animation. It's like a clip show.... I accept that the budget might have necessitated that, I won't harp on it-- it's lucky it has an anime at all...! but I don't have much to say about it.

On the one hand, I'm really glad they decided to animate this interstitial illustration aida-sensei did (I wish they could animate all of her stylish interstitial!) because it's a wonderful illustration.....

... on the other hand, I seriously think it was ruinous for the western fandom, who proceed to obsess over it endlessly as though impossibly significant (maybe to justify their own fixation on it lol...). By virtue of the repetition of it as one watches episodes, forcing one to consider it again & again, this image may as well be a School Mystery, for all the rumors surrounding it. I seriously think this shot alone is responsible for at least 75% of 'Tsukasa is a sexual menace' headcanons, no matter what has happened since....

In reality however, it's really fun the OP elected to pull its audience in THIS direction with THIS kind of fanservice image. It's a sexy shot and it's using its sex appeal for the greater good. This is one of the few wholly original pieces of animation in the OP, so... damn, they really made that decision, you know? I respect that. Of all the things to represent, LOL. It would have gotten me as a teenager, so..............................................

well, moving from the OP to other things you didn't ask about:

I actually like both the ED & After-School boy's ED songs much more....! I think they suit the tone, respectively, better! Also... both of those are sung by Nene-chan's VA, which is so wonderful! She's our star, truly... it's very moving that she was cast with a VA with singing experience (Hanako/Tsukasa's too though, and we know Tsukasa & Nene-chan sing together in canon eventually, so....)... TT__TT.... you don't really get any better than the VAs of characters themselves singing for the anime!!!!

in terms of the ED, the tone represents the heart of JSHK well... love, devotion, preciousness... the visuals are also simplistic, strong, beautiful, minimalist, powerful. Of all the material thus far, it's my favorite.

And then, in terms of After-School Boy's ED.... it represents the silly & flirty-wirty aspects of JSHK well LOL, I remember hearing it the first time, and being like.... they really did that.... !!!!! ....this one,, captures Nene-chan's energy so perfectly HAHA... visually it's boring, but urrggh it's a great song haha, it really ruined my husband when it came out... he had to like, forget about it to protect himself....

Cannot overstate my love for both of those songs!!!

I'm really hoping for season 2, we get a new OP/ED, & I'm hoping that the manga has enough of a presence now that it can afford to do something bolder for its OP....? I would love wholly original animations for it.... perhaps taking more inspiration from Aida-sensei's many full-color illustrations.....

I guess in terms of anime OP that I really like overall, I think Brotherhood's first OP was really, really strong. It had the right tone, beautiful animation, powerful imagery (and I'm not an FMA stan overall?)... however, obviously such a powerfully funded & supported anime/manga would be able to afford that kind of thing, I'm not that delusional to think JSHK could afford that, haha. ... JSHK also has such a wholly different tone & theme from FMA lol (a tone I like better, at that!) but something, hmm-- melancholy, tender, would capture the heart of Picture Perfect to me, you know....! Which is coming up....for the anime....!!!

This is such a basic pull I know because it's Literally a legendary anime that influences like all anime, but Rose of Versailles OP is absolute perfection from sound to visual. Oscar enveloped in the roses thorns....!!!!! it's minimally animated, but it uses its symbolism & iconography for deep impact!!! You really don't need crazy animation to have an amazing OP!!!!

I think JSHK's ED is one of my favorites overall, but another I love that suits its series so well to me, is Inuyasha's second ED. It's functioning on more of a budget & reuses footage from the anime, so there you have that-- but I like what they've added in. It feels attainable... for Inuyasha, this kind of moody song is ideal. Again it's a different tone from JSHK or FMA or RoV, but I hope you can understand what I mean by like... the vibes of the OP/ED suiting the series itself in some way.... it should be unique according to the anime's themes, you know?

[skywarpie]

Im not creative enough to come up with a title at the moment but here have this dad copia father’s day short fic below the cut

Like a majority of his life, Copia finds himself once more at his desk as the sun rises. The rays sifting through the blinds, forcing him to squint as they reflect off his reading glasses. Work is and will always be apart of his life. Copia finds that his mind is more at ease if he has something to focus on and paperwork is a great way to do that. Especially considering he has piles upon piles of it. After his ascension there had been talk of hiring another Cardinal to take his place but it had never panned out. Imperator had spoken of how no one could possibly fill his place and apparently that had been the end of it and Copia had been strapped with the extra work. 

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his glasses onto the desk as he pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s been at it so long that his vision is starting to blur. A sure sign that it’s time to fucking sleep. But he’s gone longer than a day without sleep before so he knows it’s not too serious yet. 

His back pops (a little too loudly if he’s honest with himself) as he stretches his arms above his head. The quiet of his office is abruptly interrupted as his door is shoved open so hard it hits the wall. Copia winces slightly at the noise as his eldest daughter gives him a smile that says “sorry about that but this is super important. More important than your door.” For extra measure the youngest gives it another hard shove and watches it bounce off the wall before turning to her sister with a proud look of triumph. 

“Papa!” The eldest, Athaliah, comes jumping toward him. Copia watches as the contents on the tray she carries fly every which way. It’s only once it’s sit in front of him that he takes into account a half (if it can even be called that) cup of coffee, its contents swimming within the tray, and a plate with what looks to be eggs and toast, only they’re burnt. Like really burnt. Like really really burnt.

“Sunshine helped us!” She beams up at him. The expression he gives must explain his confusion because her tiny brow furrows in frustration. “It’s father’s day.” She places her hands on her hips, much like she’s seen him do when scolding a wild ghoul. Her younger sister comes to stand beside her, mimicking her stance and expression.

“Oh!” It takes his brain longer than he’d like to admit for it to click in his brain. After six years you’d think one would finally be accustomed to a day that is apparently dedicated all to them. Never having celebrated it before just proves old habits are hard to break in Copia’s opinion. It’s only when their glares don’t dissipate that he realizes he’s expected to eat the burnt meal before him. Any sane person would play if off with an “oh I can’t eat this master piece! But thank you so much!” Copia has never claimed to be sane and he’s eaten far worse things than some burnt food. Besides the toast is saturated with half of the coffee that’s spilt, making it less hard to chew he notes as he takes a much larger bite than any normal person would. “Perfetto!” He announces as he scoops the youngest up to sit on his lap. Unlike her sister, seeming to have grown tired of staring at him like a child.

Athaliah drops the façade and bounces forward. “We got up extra early to make it.”

“Extra early.” Her little sister mimics as she looks up at Copia.

“Hmm.” Copia finishes his first piece of toast and starts in on the second. Honestly it’s not that bad. Or maybe it’s because he hasn’t eaten in --- well, he can’t really remember the last time he at.  He washes it down with a drink from the half filled coffee mug. The coffee is extremally strong and for that Copia’s grateful. If it was sweetened to the normal way he drinks it, chances are he’d be fast asleep. “It definitely shows.” 

She beams up at him with nothing but pure adoration. “Sunshine said it was a little too burnt but I told her you’d like it anyway and I was right!” She latches onto his free arm and Copia quickly wraps it around her. 

“Piccola topo, you don’t need to make me anything.” He laughs but stops when he notes how her expression has darkened. “Eh?”

“You do everything for everyone else. We can make you breakfast.”

Copia winces inwardly. Ah, so they had noticed how much time he spent running himself ragged for the clergy. “I appreciate it but having the both of you around is more than enough for me.” He smiles.

She nods, seemingly accepting of this but bursts out a moment later. “Oh! Once you’re finished you have to see what the rats got you!”

Copia laughs nervously at that. Something tells him it’s going to be a very entertaining day.

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Hey @arecaceae175 have a graduation snippet gift <3

(@hermitdrabbles56)

This hadn't exactly been what he'd expected.

Surgery was precise and generally straightforward. If there was a problem that needed fixing, one simply addressed it. Medicine was much messier, ruling out issues and treating symptoms rather than addressing the issue at hand.

Emergency medicine was a chaotic mix of both. Link hadn't exactly known what he was getting himself into when he'd signed up for a trauma surgery and emergency medicine fellowship.

As if residency hadn't been grueling enough, what with up to 100 hour work weeks, this fellowship finally brought him back to the action in a way he'd never experienced. His past was... checkered, for sure, but it had always been solo missions, not an all out war zone.

He also hadn't been on the front lines for the injuries up to this point.

Five years into being a doctor and he could still have his breath stolen away by feeling so utterly clueless.

Shaking his head, Link centered himself. Sure, this was less controlled than an operating room, but he could still fix wounds. This wasn't entirely new to him, just a different environment.

"I need a doctor over here!"

The call was commanding and urgent, and Link immediately went to it. A blonde nurse with a confidence that filled the room was holding pressure on a wound, hands preoccupied with preventing the soldier from bleeding to death.

"You want to put in a order for fast blood?" he said in a terse tone that, despite the phrasing used, wasn't a question.

Link nodded, going to the nearby computer to put in the order.

"You'll have to call for the blood, too," the nurse continued. "And I'm going to need a hemostatic agent for this."

The doctor paused a moment, simultaneously grateful and mildly annoyed at all the orders. He wasn't against nurses knowing what they needed and ordering for it, and he was completely out of his element, but the fiercely independent side of him was not a fan of having orders barked at him. Nevertheless, he did as instructed and watched the nurse quickly use the specailized gauze on the wound and wrap it tightly as best he could. Despite his efforts, specks of crimson began to ooze through.

"His BP is 72/41, tachycardic in the 120s, O2 saturation is dropping despite being on nonrebreather at 15L," the nurse reported, changing his gloves and immediately grabbing the first cooler of blood that arrived. He called for another nurse to check the blood with him and then looked at Link sharply. "I can send labs for you. What else would you like?"

This person was in shock. They needed to know what products the patient needed. Labs were absolutely necessary. Link slipped back into routine knowledge, blocking out the chaotic backdrop of the constant chatter and movement around him, and got to work.

Four units of red blood cells, two units of fresh frozen plasma, two liters of fluids, blood pressure intravenous drips, and a quick arterial line placement later, they made a hasty trip to surgery to repair a damaged artery.

When it was all finished, Link wandered back into the ER and saw the room where the patient had previously been bleeding all over the floor was already clean and filled with another whose leg had been blasted off.

"So you surgical or ER doc?" the nurse from before asked as he gave the new patient a fluid bolus and pain medication.

"Surgery," Link answered. "But I'm doing a rotation in the ER."

The nurse paused and smirked. "Bit different from your tidy little OR, right?"

Link huffed and smiled in return. "I've seen chaos before, but yes, it is different."

"Name's Link," the nurse said, catching the surgical fellow off guard. "You?"

"Well... it'll be easy to remember, because my name is Link as well," he answered.

The nurse frowned. "What, really?"

"Really."

The nurse laughed at that. "You'll need a nickname. That'll get confusing."

"And you?"

"I'm Link. You need a nickname."

Link raised an eyebrow. "What's your rank?"

"Captain."

"Then that's your nickname."

The captain's face soured in mild annoyance before he shrugged and waved a hand with enough lighthearted energy to diminish his grumpiness. "Fine. But you get one too. If I'm not Link, the no one is."

That finally pulled a laugh out of the physician. The young man was cheeky despite his earlier serious demeanor. His codename came to mind and he immediately dismissed it. Then he remembered his reputation in his previous OR, and he smirked.

"Timekeeper."

"Too many syllables. The patient will have bled to death by the time I call for you. Time."

Time laughed again. "Very well."