#unhinges book opinions

[ladymirdan]

So I finished reading Dead Sky, Black Sun yesterday and I got some feelings.

I have skipped this book for ages since it has a reputation for being “the worst”.

Sure, if you are very squeamish about body horror/gore, it is pretty graphic in that sense, but it wasn't as bad as it was portrayed to be. I would say its pretty much on par with Nighthaunter or the Night Lords books in gore factor, but with far less horror/suspense elements.

The thing that chocked me the most reading this book was that I rather enjoyed it 😅

I have made no secret that I dont vibe with MacNeill’s writing usually, but this book was so god damn funny and whacky, I wouldnt mind reading it again. It is in no way a literary masterpiece, and some real bafflingg choises were made. But did I have fun? Yes.

Do I recommend this book?... Doubtful. If you like gore and dont care about plot holes and just want some mindless action? Sure.

There are so many delightful characters, and that has always been MacNeill’s strength. The dialogue is laughable, but the concepts are strong.

One I didn't think I would like so much was Ardaric Vaanes. (me? Liking a raven guard? Bizarro world I know!)

I have joked before that Honsou is just a single mom, trying to hunt down Ventris to make him pay child support. But having Vaanes as Honsou’s bitchy goth rebound girlfriend/newborn-stepmom is not something I expected, but I'm so living for it.

Honsou and Vanes just hate-fucking each other to get back at Ventris (who is lightyears away, not giving either of them a single thought).

There needs to be more art of Vaanes... Will I manage to not be lazy for once and draw some? Who knows? 😂

[fromtheseventhhell]

"Sansa = Ned 2.0 and Arya = Catelyn 2.0" is one of those takes where you can just tell people are more attached to the aesthetic than anything. "The Stark girls are most like the parent they look least like" sounds good on paper and people run with the idea, regardless of how it actually fits into the story. A majority of the justification relies on misinterpreting all of their characters + a healthy dose of fanon. What gets me is that this is the same fandom that insists that Lyanna, only compared to Arya in the text, is equal parts Arya and Sansa but Ned and Catelyn, two fully fleshed-out and complex characters, have to be more like one girl or the other? There's just nothing in the story to justify being so adamant about these comparisons. Arya and Sansa have parallels with both of their parents but at the end of the day, they are unique characters with their own stories. I'll never understand why people want to flatten these complex characters down to their most basic tropes and fit them into restrictive boxes just for a "poetical~" comparison.

[belle-keys]

so, i saw this post on instagram and my response is just the hardest disagree ever... you want characters who are morally black, or unhinged, or problematic, but you don’t want them to do, say, or think truly problematic, prejudiced things? listen, you cannot call for unlikeable characters in media who only do tasteful evils like murder but not uncomfortable evils like racism or hate speech. you cannot call for novels with characters who are acknowledged to be problematic and at the same time demand only a socially acceptable and clean form of problematic behavior. the reality of messy, problematic characters isn’t to have the reader root for or against these characters or even internalize their ideas. the point of these problematic characters is to reveal the harshness and complexity of the world, not to reinforce moral or political ideals. you cannot explore the truth of society and people in books if you will only accept characters who are sanitized of reality.

[artemismatchalatte]

What if my booktok was just a front to get people to read Anne Bronte? :)

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[cienie-isengardu]

My RepCom Musing: The use of “psycho” and “crazy” and similar terms

Not sure where my research will ultimately lead me as I’m still collecting data how RepCom book series treated the potential mental illness and/or the perception of the “psycho” characters - something I've been meaning to write for some time in regard to Walon Vau and Sev, but for now I would like to share a few observations made so far:

There is a visible difference in how Walon Vau and Kal Skirata approach the topic of potential mental illness of their clone commandos, which I think fits their introvert and extrovert natures well. As far as I can say, Walon in general is not talking with outsiders about his men’s mental state - he acknowledged (think) Sev is “psychotic” and lacks “the most basic social graces“ [True Colors] or confronted Scorch about his breakdown [Order 66] but we don’t see him revealing much of their traumas or how horrible was their training to anyone who wasn’t already a part of said training program (and we know that Vau and Skirata argued about that a lot). In contrast, Skirata talked surprisingly a lot to other characters about what happened to Ordo/Nulls or occasionally to Omegas, usually to explain why his sons act in this way. This happened with Etain and Obrim and even Fi, though how Ordo feels about his trauma being talked with “outsiders” is not really brought by narrative. 

Granted, both men are using different frames from what they count normal (good) - Vau is operating in the good soldier zone (as being a soldier has a special meaning for him related to his own fucked up childhood) while Skirata focuses on family life (something he failed at once and many clones may never have a chance to experience) but that is a topic for another time.

Similarly, Delta Squad and Atin(?) are rarely seen calling other characters as the psycho, especially in a negative way. Scorch did use that name for Sev, but either Deltas were in their own company or Scorch made an observation about his brother’s behavior as he was worrying about him a lot in Order 66. Frankly, as far as my research showed, Deltas did not call Walon Vau the “Old Psycho” but they did at least twice called Skirata “crazy” (True Colors and Order 66). Interestingly, the majority of “psycho” and “crazy” terms - in context of mental illness / dangerous behavior - used by clones alone in the books comes from Omega (those members originally trained by Kal) and Nulls. 

Old Psycho, as a nickname for Vau was used twice (or so I assume) by Fi and once by Mereel. Bonker Squad as a nickname for Nulls was used by Fi and Darman/Niner and Skirata who coined this term. 

  "Your buddy ... ," Darman teased.

    "Rather have him for a friend than an enemy."

    "Ooh, he likes you. Hobnobbing with ARC officers from the Bonkers Squad, eh?"

    "We have an understanding," Fi said. "I don't laugh at his skirt, and he doesn't rip my head off."

    Yes, Ordo had taken a shine to him. Fi hadn't fully understood it until Skirata had taken him to one side and explained just what had happened to Ordo and his batch on Kamino as kids. So when Fi had thrown himself on a grenade during an anti-terrorist op to smother the detonation, Ordo had marked him out as someone who'd take an awfully big risk to save comrades. Null ARCs were psychotic-bonkers, as Skirata put it-but they were unshakably loyal when the mood struck them. [Triple Zero]

 There are also variations of the “All Nulls are psychos / crazy” statement, quite often coming from Omega, Kal or Nulls themselves. Interestingly, Vau at the beginning of True Colors described them simply as hooligans (rather than psychos) and it was put in contrast to Sev and Vau’s men in general (the good soldiers) while Vau seems to be more prone to call Skirata the crazy one than Nulls. 

Also, it seems like most of the psycho/crazy statements or rumors repeated(?) started with Skirata and was adapted by his men at some point? Like:

mentioned Bonker Squad for Nulls (used solely by him and Omega)

the not best opinion about ARC even if Nulls are the psychos themselves? (“but an ARC who'd gone AWOL was-impossible. Jango Fett had raised and trained them personally, with an emphasis on absolute loyalty to the Republic. Sergeant Kal said that Jango was an unhinged shabuir, but he always stuck to his contract, and that contract had included creating a loyal, totally reliable army. Darman had heard rumors to the contrary, and the Nulls were living crazy proof that a clone soldier could be as eccentric and wayward as any random human, but nothing had ever been confirmed.) As in “Jango was an unhinged shabuir and because he trained ARCs, they are like that too” kind of logic?

And considering that Deltas do not call Walon Vau as the Old Psycho but Fi and Mereel used that nickname, I think it is safe to assume this comes from Skirata too?

Additionally, I made a working diagram - it's not fully correct, as for now I focused on looking for specific phrases (psycho and crazy, bonker or those specific moments that I remembered), but for curiosity's sake I'm posting it in regard to Nulls, Vau and Sev as they are the most prominent characters in regard to “psycho” nickname.

[ellynneversweet]

Me, dangling a fic carrot in front of my brain so I might (might) daydream it into fruition: what if Adam and Wellesley, hanging out in the early 70s shooting the shit re: PTSD management techniques and also the best way to blow up the side of a mountain.*

*Bran has to repeatedly stress that these are two seperate and entirely distinct categories of activity, please, do not blow up my territory.

[lauransoverthinking]

I would really like to know the turnaround time between the council using Ahsoka allying with Ventress as evidence against Ahsoka, and them recommending Vos team up with Ventress to assassinate Dooku.

Dark Disciple started as an abandoned season 6 Clone Wars arc, so it couldn’t have been that long.

Did that cause any cognitive dissonance anywhere?

Vos is the only one who voices concerns about teaming up with her because Sith. Then the council is just ‘lol, she’s a failed Sith’.

Windu says they shouldn’t team up with her because she has failed to kill Dooku before (he’s not wrong. People really don’t spend enough time writing Master Windu’s sass.)

The entire rest of the council is like ‘she would be a great ally’.

All I’m saying is when Ahsoka and Vos met up post O66 and he tells her this story (shut up this happens, they both survived and reminisced because I say they do) she went outside and punched a wall before coming back all ‘sorry, there was a bee’.

[pebblesmustard]

I don't think I can ever describe it decently enough but finding a kindred spirit (of sorts) between two authors' voices (especially when they are so distinct from one another and unique to themselves) is so magical.

[nagdabbit]

hey, for future reference, do fucking not just go into someone's asks to ask their opinion on another user. don't. don't do it. if you have shit to start, start it your damn self and don't bring people into whatever beef you have.

[thotfrnk]

i have a Lot of opinions abt mdzs and certain characters (👀👀👀) but i will hold back until i read the novel properly

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

I think the funniest Hazbin Hotel crack theory headcannon is that Husk has the MOST absolute rizz out of everyone. Like he was highkey a fuck boi when he was alive and has been married and divorced at least 3 times and would have probably been more if marrying men were legal back in the day. You need a lot of suaveness and charm to get away with swindling people for a living and NOT die by pissing off the wrong person. Now that he's dead, old, and at rock fucking bottom he doesn't really care about it anymore but he still has that gentlemanly smoothness about him without even trying. Especially now that he just doesn't give a fuck about anything anymore he's extremely blunt and forward about what he thinks about people. Like he's not even trying to charm them, its just his honest opinion.

Husk: You're far to kind for this world, princess. But perhaps that also makes you stronger than the rest of us too; Finding reason to be kind to people without anything in return. I hope you never lose that softness in your heart.

Charlie, on the verge of tears: T-thanks you 💕

Husk: Look all I'm saying is that if Heaven wants to lose their best warrior because she's an ACTUAL angel with good morals unlike the monsters they have amongst their ranks, then its no skin off our backs. Bastards don't deserve you anyways Vaggie.

Vaggie, blushing as she fiddles with the hem of her skirt: Uh, yeah...thanks...😳

Husk: I mean, I wasn't all that surprised that you didn't "look" the part of the Devil. Partly because Charlie looks the way she looks and she's cute as a button. But also the books back on Earth said you were God's most perfect angel and I mean, like, *shrugs* they weren't wrong.

Lucifer, giggling like an awkward school girl: Ahaha, you're sooo funny 🫠💕

Husk: Look, you're a decent guy: you're smart, funny in that goofy charming sort of way, and pretty decent in the looks department by sinner standards. Plus if the rumors are true after that night in the club, you're not bad in the sack either. 😉

Sir Pentious, fan himself like a victorian lady: Oh my 😳

Husk, pissed: I swear if i wasn't on your damn leash I'd rip out your throat with my bare fucking teeth so you can finally shut the fuck up.

Alastor, desperately pretending that unhinged comment didn't make him internally swoon: My, my Husker, if you wanted a raise, all you had to do was ask~ 😃

Husk: You look good like this.

Angel, flirty: Like what? I look good every day Suga~

Husk, soft and genuine: Happy....when you're happy, when you're enjoying yourself, you have this glow about you.

Angel, breathless: Glow?

Husk, anxiously rubbing the back of his neck: Ha, kinda cheesy, but that's the best way I can describe it.

Angel: 😳🥺💕

[fanaticsnail]

Caught: Shachi & Penguin

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word Count: 4,200+

Themes: Shachi x afab!reader x Penguin, mdni, smut, 18+, NSFW, caught masturbating, sex pollen, first time together, throuple dynamic, preexisting flirtationship, fingering, oral, unprotected sex

Notes: Day 3 of my celebration event! I would like to dedicate this fic to @avogigi who's birthday is today! Happy birthday love! I hope you enjoy your silly boys infused with need and lust.

It all started with a flower. A small, innocent, little flower.

A flower gifted with well-met intentions by your redheaded crewmate, tucked behind your ear for safekeeping.

Venturing into an unknown destination with your crew, you all banded together and took in your surroundings. One by one, the Heart Pirates trudged beyond the threshold of the new village and respected your view of unexplored horizons. Shachi, yourself and Penguin marched toe to toe, every so often pointing out one thing or another to each other.

You had this unspoken thing with both Shachi and Penguin: the two misguided misfits of the Heart Pirates. They would never fight, nor ever engage physically in violence for your affections: but their little competition vying for your attention has begun to get out of hand in your captain's opinion

Trafalgar Law, your captain and doctor, had taken you aside to your office earlier in the month and barked at you to: “Just pick one already! They're both being unhinged idiots, and I can't stand any more of their peacocking.” It was true, both Shachi and Penguin had this peculiar way of taking their affections up a notch when the other was present. In private, they were both so shy and sweet to you, you felt called to usher them into your arms and indulge in their attention.

In lieu of following that former suggestion made by your captain, not an order to obey, you simply remained steadfast and strong in your politeness towards them. You could never choose between which of your friends to engage with romantically, and they both knew you were not going to make any decisions without a large event occuring between the three of you.

Stooping below a large trunk of an unknown tree, he easily pried a small flower from the base of the trunk by snapping it as close to the roots as he could get it. Gently and coyly floating his glasses-clad eyes over towards you, he lifted the pale petals up to his nose and took a lengthy inhale.

The pollen in the center smelled as sweet as you were to him, and he was immediately taken by the heady aroma. Slowly approaching your position by Penguin, he tapped you on the shoulder to gain your attention. Just as to turned your head, Shachi skillfully tucked the pale flower behind your ear with a mischievous smirk.

“A pretty flower for my pretty flower,” Shachi cooed down at you, moreso in a lower and more playful tone he knew Penguin would despise him for. You couldn't help but laugh at him, gently reaching for the object and untucking it from your ear to gaze down lovingly at.

“Thank you, Shachi. It's beautiful,” you nodded towards him. Gently raising it up to your nose, you inhaled from the center just as he did moments prior, “Do you know what type it is? I haven't seen anything like it before.” The fragrance felt thick, but not overall itchy or overwhelming in your respiratory system. There was something particularly intoxicating about it, but it could've just been the softness in Shachi’s expression when he gifted it to you.

Just as Shachi made to offer you an answer for your question, Penguin snatched the flower from your fingers and began to examine it. His brows knit with confusion, leering down at the center, and taking in the soft balayage fading from the base of the petals up to their unique, pointed tips.

“I've seen this in one of the captain’s medical books before,” Penguin stated softly, leaning forward and inhaling a little of the fragrance before withdrawing it from his face, “I just can't remember where it was.”

“Poisons?” you asked softly, taken aback a little by how intensely he was gawking at the stem and petals. Penguin shook his head and placed it back within the nook of your ear.

“Nah, nothing like that,” Penguin commented with a polite smile, “I have seen the description, pretty sure it was in the edible section of weeds or something,” he shrugged softly before backtracking and rephrasing his statement, “I wouldn't eat it, just in case.”

“Because that's my first thought when I'm gifted a pretty flower by an attractive guy,” you uttered sarcastically, reclaiming the flower and tucking it once more behind your ear, “‘Eat the damn thing’. Seriously, Penguin?”

Overlapping sentences of “Hey, I didn't mean it like that,” and “Wait, you think I'm attractive?” were both broken by the call of the three of your names by your captain. Surrounded by the remainder of your crew, Clione was holding a map of the area given to him by a local, and Law was assigning roles.

“Shachi, Penguin,” Law barked in an authoritarian tone, “You're on dinner. Organize it for the lot of us, and try to keep to the budget.” Next came your name, to which you smiled and stood a little taller.

“You're on ‘home duty’. The inn is there, organize with the front desk who's bunking where and unpack the essentials. We're in our own rooms for a bit while we resupply the Tang.” Law continued to delegate chores and orders, each of you listening intently to the directions before you were dismissed.

Just as he reached the last few members of the crew, your mind began to get a little more foggy, and your tongue felt heavier in your mouth. The air felt thicker, and your eyes began to sting a little at the corners as they glazed over with a foreign contemplation and sleepy haze. You attempted to shake it off by pinching the bridge of your nose and stimulating the corner of your waterline, which aided a little in drawing back your attention.

What you couldn't ignore was the neediness beginning to rise at your core. A tingling sensation started to gather at your slit as your clit quivered beneath the shroud of your boiler suit. You shook off the feeling, truly considering the fact that you had been at sea for too long, and the flirtations from both of the animal-hat wearing men may have worked a little better than anticipated.

Regardless of how the meeting went, you were thankful that Law placed you on ‘home duty’. Once the meeting was dismissed: you could set to your task: assign the rooms, gather the belongings, carefully dump them in their appropriate lodgings, and take care of your physical needs dripping currently in your underwear and sticking the garment to your skin, before the remainder of the crew got back.

What you didn't anticipate was the fact that after you did organize all of those chores, you physically couldn't cross that bridge into bliss with your hands alone. Laying on your back atop your allocated bed, traveling bag hastily thrown from the duvet, boiler suit and undergarments discarded, legs parted and slick falling freely from your quivering core, you found yourself unable to cum.

You tried everything: focussing solely on your clit with your fingertips, burying three fingers into your cunt and roughly fucking yourself with them, playing with your nipples while you attempted to move your hands more slowly, or bracing your abdomen with your forearm and hastily impaling yourself with your digits. Nothing worked.

“Hnnngh-! Fuck!” you cried out, sobbing as another high slipped through your fingers and smeared your arousal on the duvet below you. “Why-? What-?”

Closing your eyes, you began to softly sob while you plunged your fingers in and out of your needy core, bringing up your other hand to clap over your lips. All you could do was sob while waiting for your orgasm to finally grip you and crash from your core to spread through your body. Yet, every time, that swell would always sizzle and fade before it ever took root in your body.

Both Shachi and Penguin found themselves in a not so dissimilar predicament. Neither man had ever felt desire like this at any moment in their lives prior. Panting, sweating, heaving, groaning: Shachi and Penguin were consumed with the aggressive urge to claim and use their bodies to rutt and ravage.

“You started this shit,” Penguin barked at him, aggressively snatching his allocated key off the counter in the inn, “You think we're the only ones suffering for your stupidity?” The innkeeper backed away, assuming the similar uniform they were donning to yours meant they were a part of the same crew.

“I know, I know,” Shachi whined, the groceries in his arms weighing heavy and encumbering his ability to walk more hastily. “If you would've said something earlier, I wouldn't have fucking plucked the damn thing and gave it as a gift. For fucks sake.”

“Oh? So now it's my fault?” Penguin snapped back at him, stomping up the stairs towards the rooms where they were allocated, “Be thankful I was the one to tell Law about it. If not, we wouldn't have gotten the fucking antidote.” Penguin began to turn the key into the latch, letting out a groan as his painfully hard erection brushed against the front seam of his boiler suit.

Just as Penguin managed to twist the knob and push open the door, his ears pricked at the mention of his name. It only spilt in a voice below a choked whisper, but his heightened senses from the illumination of the pollen managed to decipher it amongst the white noise.

“Fuck,” Penguin whispered, stumbling in his room, “Throw the groceries on the counter, I don't think we've got much longer until the antidote won't be as effective.”

“Right,” Shachi said in response, immediately moving his body with each agonizing step towards the counter. As soon as he managed to place the contents on the marble surface, he used his palms to brace his weight against the surface.

Each part of his body felt alight with the flames of lust, each part screaming for a cure within the thralls of passion. Both Shachi and Penguin agreed, as soon as they learned what the flower was, you needed to be given the antidote before either of them could take it. They refused medical attention, much to Law's chagrin, and forced themselves to complete their chores first.

As Shachi took a moment to steady himself, his ears burned at a soft sound whimpering from the adjoining room.

“Did you hear-?”

“-We’ve gotta move.”

Both men sprung into action: Penguin with the vial from Law clutched firmly in his grasp, and Shachi who had been exposed far longer to the pollen as either of them.

Penguin tried to remain level headed. Get in, give the vial, sit and wait for it to come into effect, and apologize for his friend profusely for accidentally dousing you with a potent aphrodisiac. That was his plan.

Shachi’s was much the same. Go in, beg for your forgiveness, grovel at your feet and watch as Penguin administers the cure for what was plaguing the three of you.

As soon as they barged into your lodgings and their eyes found your body, their jaws grew slack and their chins tilted down to take you in. Fingers buried and curling deep within your pussy, brows furrowed and eyes scrunched shut, their names were spilling from your lips as you attempted to reach the cusps of your bliss - only to immediately sob when it flew away once more.

If your name was called, you could barely hear which one of the two called it. Too lost within your own ministrations to care, you reached your unoccupied hand out for the closest person near you. The only thing to break you out from your hypnotic stimulations was the door slamming tightly shut behind them.

“I-I can't s-stop,” you whimpered out, the crude squelching from your cunt continuing to ring throughout the room, “H-Help. Please?” You moved faster, spreading your legs and uncaringly began to put on a show for the intruders. You hoped they were the men you needed them to be, and not some poor maintenance crew coming in to change over the supplies within the fridge or refold the towels. “Penguin, Shachi-... I need you. Please, I need you.”

“Fuck-.”

“-Shit.”

The vial slipped from Penguins grip as he immediately pounced towards you. He knelt at the foot of the bed, slowly prying your hand away from your core and replacing it with his own. His stiff cock was propping up the waist of his boiler suit like a pole to erect a tent, but his mind still grasped the fact that you needed to understand what you were asking for while you could still speak.

“Sweetheart,” Penguin uttered softly, rubbing gentle and soothing circles on your aching clit, “You've been-... fuck you look so good-... You've been hit by a violent aphrodisiac. Can you understand what I'm saying?”

“I-I know-!” you whimpered, hips bucking up and trying to get more feeling of any part of him within you, “Y-You guys-?”

“-It was the flower,” Shachi shuddered, holding the wooden door frame to hold himself back from springing forward and prying Penguin away from your body to replace his with his own, “Are you still wearing-... look at how good you are, letting him play with you like that-... Are you still wearing it?”

Reaching up, you grabbed the flora from behind your ear and tossed it over the side of the bed. Shachi nodded, feeling choked by the amount of heat within his boiler suit. “To answer your earlier question, us too. Not as bad as you, but yes.”

“Wh-What do we do?” you sobbed, eyes opening and looking past Penguin at your pussy towards the redhead, “Shachi, what do I do? I-I’ve been at this for two hours now, and each time I try-... fuck-!” You arched your back, feeling on the edge of an orgasm by Penguin’s hands and expecting to fall away from it.

Only you don't.

Screaming out in relief, your world shatters like a stone through glass against Penguin’s fingers. Your body convulses around his motions, riding through the first waves of ecstasy in what felt like a painful lifetime. Penguin did nothing to hold you back from your bucking, only chasing you with his hands while he aided you through your high.

“Cumming?” Penguin asked coyly, his eyes dark with lust as he watched your pussy pulse and clench around absence, “Good, sweetheart. How do you feel?”

Taking a moment to steady your breaths, you nod while panting through your recovery. After gulping back some essential breaths, you felt the need once again rising in your abdomen, but manageable as opposed to the way you had been feeling for hours.

“Need more,” you nodded, reaching down and grabbing Penguin's wrist, “I need a cock in me, now.” Penguin groaned needily at your confession, his precum tinting his briefs beneath his boiler suit with pearls of viscous desire.

“Who's?” Penguin asked softly, again reaching for your sensitive bud and drawing soft and senseless patterns against it. You chose to angle yourself on the bed, prying yourself from Penguins hands and leaning with the edge of the mattress tucked firmly within your neck.

“I am going to close my eyes,” you utter firmly, doing as you suggested and clenching your eyes shut, “And in three seconds, I better have someone’s cock in my pussy and the other’s in my mouth or I feel like I'm going to die. One.”

A shuffle of motion occurred immediately, shifting materials pooling at ankles and casted aside with haste small choked words of “But,”, “Who?” and “Where?” we're quietened by the haste of your next word.

“Two.”

“Sweetheart, if you could just hold on a minute while we get situated-.”

“-Please see reason, sunshine. I can't thrive under these conditions.”

Shachi quickly found his drooling cock head against your entrance, his eyes rolling back in his skull as he carded it through your folds. Penguin tapped your cheek with his tip, indicating he was ready for you whenever you chose to part your lips to drink him in.

“Three,” you gasped, gently flicking out your tongue to tease Penguin’s cock gently, “Use me. I need to feel you cum in me, wherever you choose to fill me up.”

Where Penguin chose to halt his actions, Shachi was simply too far gone under the influence of the pollen. He was never this consumed with arousal, and he truly felt if he wasn't buried up to the hilt within you, he would keel over where he knelt.

His cock slipped in with an ease that held him speechless, your clit brushing with the small patch of red public hair he manicured at the base. Shachi shuddered as he rocked his hips from side to side, nestling completely within your pussy and holding onto your thighs for support.

“Shachi-... fuck, that's so good-!” you whined, opening your eyes and gazing lovingly at the cock presented in front of your lips. “Pen, what's stopping you from fucking my face? Need you!”

Penguin knelt down in front of you, piercing you with his icy eyes before pressing his forehead to yours.

“I do want to ravish you, don't get me wrong,” he confessed with a humorless laugh, “But neither of us have even kissed you yet.” Penguin leaned forward, his chin brushing with your nose while his lips hovered over your own, “Seeing as though Shachi gets to claim that beautiful pussy for himself before me, I should at least get to kiss you first.”

“Kiss me,” you whisper softly, your need once again swelling in your stomach as Shachi began to gently retract a small portion of his cock and steady himself before slamming it back in. As Shachi thrust forward, he shifted your body which made your lips collide with Penguin’s in a firm and lustful kiss.

Penguin adjusted his lips immediately, moving his hands to grasp the back of your neck and hold you steady. Shachi picked up his pace, rutting into you with an easy rhythm that forced your eyes to roll back into your skull. The kiss of the dark-haired man became intense and heavy, his tongue brushing and colliding messily with your own while the redhead’s pants began to pick up in intensity.

Pulling away from your face, your voice spilled out a whine that shot lightning directly to Penguin’s cock now presented to you.

“Be a good little thing and open your mouth for me, would you?” Penguin purred down at you, using his hands to find your forearms and wrap them around his ass, “C'mon. Easy does it now- Oh, fuck-!”

Penguin flung his head back the moment your lips parted to take him in. Shachi tried to ignore the whine that the other man made, but the twitch of interest in his cock raking against your walls was undeniable in feeling at home with his friend and himself taking you together.

Shachi rose your leg up to hook your knee over his shoulder, turning his head to huff and pant into it in a bid to silence his needy cries. Penguin’s own breath hitched when he peered up at Shachi lost while buried deep within you.

They had never really considered both enjoying you together, should their private courtship of you amount to anything. Their assumption was likely a one week on, one week off situation, never together. But as Penguin let out soft little whimpers at the feeling of his cock being taken by your lips, Shachi let out groans that were a little deeper to complete the pornographic symphony.

Your mouth and pussy was too stuffed full of both mens cock, all you could do was whimper out small cries in bliss at finally being met with exactly what your body was craving.

“Good job, j-just like that,” Penguin stumbled, gently rocking his hips against your face while you pawed at his ass to draw him closer, “Fuck, you feel so good like this.”

Shachi could barely articulate any thoughts of praise. His lips clashed against your thigh as he felt the coil in his abdomen wind tight as he teetered on the cusps of crashing into ecstasy. Sucking and biting at the flesh of your leg, he let out several intense whines as he drew closer to his edge.

Reaching down between your thighs, he thumbed at your clit while drawing his cock in languid and heavy thrusts deep within your pussy. With each in-thrust, his sighs and whines began getting louder and higher in frequency.

“N-Need you to cum, sunshine,” he whimpered against your leg, increasing the pressure against your sensitive bud with his thrusts becoming more urgent, “Can you do that for me? Cum for me? Wanna feel you when you do. Please?”

You could barely whisper out a yes, only humming through your confirmation and bobbing your head more desperately against Penguin's thick cock. Upon hearing Shachi beg to feel you cum for him, salty bursts of Penguin's release began to dart over your tongue in soft spurts.

“Sh-Shit-!” Penguin cried out, truly expecting he would have more time before he flooded your cheeks and throat with his release, “Oh fuck, I'm cumming-!!”

“Fuck-!” Shachi whined in a long drag, feeling you clench around him at Penguin’s confession. Penguin using your face so needily and messily caused your own orgasm to ricochet off his own like a chain of lightning. Your pussy clenched and pulsed around Shachi’s cock, which in turn sucked him in in hard contractions. Shachi immediately began to spill over in hot ropes of white, flooding your walls with his own accumulation of bliss.

The three of you rode out your highs, Penguin pulling out and dribbling the last of his spend on your chin and chest from his position above, while Shachi burried himself deep within you. You felt tears of relief begin to sting the corners of your eyes, finally feeling the joy that finally found its home with the three of you together.

Shachi dragged your body down the bed, messily peppering your shoulders and neck in a cluster of grateful and overwhelmed kisses. Penguin stepped away to the bathroom, your ears pricking up at the sound of running water from your personal ensuite. You felt your neck thank Shachi for drawing it to a more comfortable position, your throat now raw with the rate you chose to suck Penguin’s cock with.

Penguin returned with, hot, damp towels, and begun to rub your face affectionately to rid you of any of his remaining mess. Slowly moving his cock out of your core, Shachi swiped the towel from Shachi to romance you with soft drags against your pussy to clean you of his spend.

“How do you feel?” Penguin asked quietly, crawling on the bed beside you on all fours, and tilting his head to check you over. “Need more, or has it dissipated for now?”

“I-I think it's dissipated,” you nod slowly. Slowly examining his face while Shachi cleaned you up, you felt yourself become a little shy to his eyes beaming down at you with the softest expression of love. Shachi completed his small duty of cleaning you up before rising to his feet towards the doorway.

Stooping low, he picked up the oral antidote and returned to your side. Popping the cork top of the liquid, he slowly drew it to your mouth and tapped your bottom lip twice.

“Say ‘ah’, sunshine,” he smiled down at you, slowly offering you a few drops before offering the same to Penguin, and then to himself. Turning to the bedside table, he took note of the time beginning to draw close to the end of daylight.

“Penguin,” Shachi spoke slowly with a soft groan, “Cap said we're on dinner duty.” Penguin had yet to tear his eyes away from you, only doing so to lean towards you and press his forehead against your neck. “We gonna cook or-?”

“-I’ll call the front desk,” Penguin whispered against your neck, kissing your collarbone softly and covering over the small marks Shachi had peppered you with moments prior. “I'll take it out of my cut of loot.”

“There's a few of us, Pen,” you whispered, feeling need once again rise at the pit of your stomach that was entirely your own, “It's one hell of a expense.”

“If I get to stay right here,” Penguin whispered, drawing his hands to tickle at your stomach in soft, swirling patterns, “I'd say it's worth it. I'll be skint for a bit, but I'll make it.”

Feeling a little awkward, somber, and out of place, Shachi gulped back his defeat at earning your affections and began to shift the materials at the floor to redress himself. Locating his socks, he placed them in each of his boots while untucking his briefs from the legs of the boiler suit.

“Where you going, Shachi?” Penguin asked softly, “We can make the call from up here. No need to go down there if you don't want to.”

“No, no, it's fine.” Shachi confirmed with a smile, feining joy at your soft moment together, “You guys just sit and bask. I'll go organise the dinner, then I'll just go and read in my room before bed time. Yeah?”

“No,” both you and Penguin utter in unison, one of your arms and one of his extended out to invite him back. “Here, now,” you clicked your fingers and gestures to the mattress he was just laying on.

“You sure?” Shachi asked, his eyes rounded and pouting innocently, “I know I messed up with the flower, and I shouldn't interrupt what you guys have going on-.”

“-All of us,” Penguin uttered sharply, “Together, you hear? Always together.”

“Always together?” Shachi asked, his feet gently stepping closer to the bed. Shuffling his knees up on the mattress, he gently crawled beneath your other arm and nuzzled against your neck. His lips found your skin and pressed a soft kiss against it while making himself comfortable. You let out a content sigh, drawing your hands up to lace in locks of raven and auburn.

“Always together,” you whispered in confirmation.

Food will have to wait for your crewmates, the call to the front desk being at the back of your minds while the three of you began to navigate this new covenant forged between you. Three as one, and your hearts swelling enough to love each and every in their own way. You were their partner, and they were yours.

Always together.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel

🎶Happy Birthday to Me 🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Yandere Kencanons

Warnings: Kidnapping, Abduction, Major Spoilers for The Barbie Movie, Unhinged Post, Possessive Ken, Ken Just Wants to be Loved, Petnames, Ken Being Condescending, Post-Patriarchy Ken, No Pronouns Used for Reader Except 'You'.

Simply put, you’d charmed Ken. Made his non-existent heart flutter and a feeling he always associated with Barbie to overtake him. Been in the wrong place at the right time. Hence, less than a few hours after your meeting with Kenneth, you were in Barbieland. Sorry - Kendom Land.

You’d made the mistake of asking him for the time, in a rush to make it to work. And, with a twinkle in his eye and a seeming newfound sense of purpose, he proclaimed that “You respect me!”

Dazed and with little else you could say, you shrugged. “I mean…I guess…?”

And that was enough for him.

“I must go – get back to Barbieland – spread the news about patriarchy!”

You'd humoured him, more for the promise of your own safety than actual agreement, and he tipped his hat to you, billowing away in the direction of Venice Beach in a haze of his own world.

You managed to dodge him initially, untangling yourself from his vacant stare and making it to work unscathed.

On your way to lunch a few hours after, however, you were accosted again.

Of course, by none other than Ken Carson.

Who, having put all he’d learnt from his books on horses, the Wild West, and patriarchy, literally lassoed you and threw you onto his shoulder.

“We’ve gotta get you back to Barbieland – the Kens are not gonna believe this !”

On your journey back to this mysterious place, Ken explained to you how Barbies usually rule everything while the Kens are left with nothing.

“But, with you at my side, I’m sure we can make it right!”

You genuinely chalked this guy up to be insane, if at most, an escaped patient.

However, as you traversed 2D landscapes, you were more inclined to believe him. That this fabled Babrietopia did in fact exist.

And, once you get there, you become Patriarchy Ken’s personal servant.

He tells you to “Brewski Beer” him, all the while talking about how his initial conception of patriarchy had been that it was “Horses who ran the world, but it’s actually men — and horses are men extenders.”

He calls you his “bride-wife” or “groom-husband”, which, compared to the other Kens’ long-term distance low-commitment casual partners, seems oddly…endearing. Dangerously permanent.

With no idea how to get back to the Real world, you’re stuck with Ken and his entourage of fellow Kens, the Barbies either indoctrinated into their way of thinking or in hiding.

Speaking of, you are basically Ken’s property.

And he treats you as such whenever one of the other Kens tries to accost your service.

His tone is low, eyes sharp. “(Y/N) is my long-term distance low-commitment partner, not yours, Ken.”

And, to show as much, you get to sit on the floor next to Ken as he watches the Godfather with his Kentourage, talking through the whole thing, commenting on its ingenuity and nuance.

He also makes you stay nearby whenever he changes outfits - which is just him changing into another faux mink coat, pants and headband.

Despite being this new, independent, untethered Ken, he asks your opinion on things which seem largely inconsequential. Still, you sense something unstable. Insecurity, perhaps.

"What about...this coat?"

"Isn't that the same as the last one you showed me?"

Ken looks at your glass reflection in the wardrobe doors. His smile glitches, falters. He replaces it.

"Yeah, course - I was just testing you, seein' if you were paying attention."

Whenever you get a moment alone, away from the madness of the Kens, it’s short-lived. For Ken is never far behind, seeming to materialise in the doorway of whatever room of the Dreamhouse you’ve adopted as your refuge.

“What’s wrong, tiny baby?” He says, sauntering over to you, snake-like.

“I want to go home, Ken,” You tell him, voice racked with sobs, tears in your eyes.

He just gives you a narrowed, confused look, adopting an almost incredulous posture as if to say ‘Why?’

“First of all, I don’t like your tone, Doll,”

He steps towards you. You step back.

“Second of all, why in Kendom Land would you wanna leave ?" Another step forward. Another step back. "This is the dream of any patriarch’s partner to be where you are now; it should feel just like home !” Another step forward, another step ba-

Your legs hit the edge of the bed.

It doesn’t matter how hurt - or frightened - you look. Ken doesn’t listen.

“And besides, do you know how many Barbies would kill to be where you are now ? I know Weird Barbie would.” And he smiles – smirks – as if he’s triumphed you in some way only he is aware of, hands on his waist. The image of power.

Ken tends to test his boundaries when it comes to physical affection.

Seeing as he received none with Barbie, he seems to want to try his luck with you.

And yes, this does include him puckering his lips and staying stood in front of you until one of you caves.

Usually, it’s him, causing him to retract and act as if nothing happened. Which it didn’t. 

But when he really wants a kiss, he can persist for hours.

You timed him. Two hours and three minutes until you relented and pecked him.

“Wow,” he says, every time, as if it’s the first time, his eyes clouded with dreams and what you could only pen as whimsy.

He’s incredibly touch-starved. Show him an ounce of willing and he’ll be overjoyed in his own, new, macho way. Though, he does have a hard time containing a squeal whenever you touch skin.

Secretly, he's entranced by how...human you are. how different you feel and talk to the other dolls in his Kendom.

He's developed an obsession interest with your hands, holding them in his, telling you how small and soft your hands are compared to his.

He squeezes them whenever he gets the chance, commenting on how "Squishy" your fingers are, despite you having a skeleton beneath your skin - a concept that blows Ken away every time you explain it to him.

He also adores hugs. Though, he only hugs you/lets you hug him when out of view of other Kens. He needs to protect his image as the stoic leader, after all.

Loves a cuddle; goes stupid crazy for them.

He favours holding you to his chest and resting his chin atop your head. He finds your warmth a foreign comfort. While you find his lack of a heart – and a beat – a discomfort.

“S’nice and warm,” he says, eyes closed, the image of laxity. "Being here with you."

He mumbles that last part. You know not to inquire further. The Kens consider any form of genuine affection to be a weakness.

It’s in your best interest to just let him stay there and talk about whatever it is he’s fascinated himself with, lest you wish to incur a temper tantrum or the cold shoulder.

Aside from being a fan of hand-holding, he's also a partaker in wrist-holding.

If you ever do something to aggravate him, he tends to grip your wrist hard enough to make you wince, his jaw clenched, eyes narrowed.

“Something wrong, Babe?” He’ll say, tone deep with simmering wrath.

You know not to push it with Ken.

Despite how platinum and perfect he is, he does harbour a resentment which, whether caused by you or not, he seems to target you with.

Talked to a Ken for too long, or in a way he didn’t like?

He’s going to embarrass you in front of him. Make you seem undesirable to all who are not himself.

He knows he can’t make you disappear, given the fact that you’re mortal. But he knows he can make other Kens disappear; an idea that, the first time it appeared to him, frightened him, made him confront a darker half he’d repressed. But, as time went on, he’s learnt to harness it in ways you’d never have suspected from a Ken.

Not that you’d know it from the way he treats you, but he does actually care for you.

Perhaps…as much as, even more so, than he does — did — for Barbie.

He doesn’t feel like he’s tethered to any one job or image when he’s with you; his identity is not an extension of yours. But, he does try to treat yours as if it is an extension of his.

“Babe, hurry up with those beers — the game’s about to start !”

He knows you’re impervious to the effects of his brainwashing, given that you’re from the Real World, so he feels that you’re the most genuine person in Kendom Land. Hence he tends to treat you with equal harshness and care.

This also often leads to Ken asking you things about your world. Things he doesn’t yet have the answers for.

His favourite pastime is to lay his head on your thighs while you sit against the headboard of his bed, asking you any and all questions that come to mind.

“What’s your favourite colour?”, “Where does the sun go when it’s night time?”, “What did you do at your job?”

Personal ones like that last one often cause you to tense, and Ken can tell. He tends to refrain from asking you such questions now, seeing as any reminder of your life prior to this cause you to, what he has learnt to call it, cry.

Despite how tone-deaf Kenneth can be, he is actually rather intuitive. Or, rather, considerate.

When you’d told him your favourite colour, he’d painted his bedroom walls in it. Albeit a slap-dash job of it, given how interior design is not in his box description like Interior Design Ken, but he tried !

Despite his small acts of kindness being his attempts to imitate comfort, they do little to calm you. For everything he says, does, discussing a future with you in Kendom Land, changing aspects of his world to cater to your preferences, feel as if you are to take up unwilling, permanent residence here.

And, while you wait and plot for a way to escape, you exist as a perpetual puppet for Ken to mither and berate and order around.

In the real world, a doll has started appearing on shelves – a new range of ‘Misery Barbie/Ken’ dominating the toy aisles of every supermarket and toy store, your visage wrapped tightly in every box.

Tears, an outfit demeaning enough to make a grandmother faint, and the unwavering expression of the need for freedom.

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterpost Masterlist

Yandere Masterlist Juicy Original Content <3

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

ok some things i LIKED about tua 4 since we all have talked exclusively about what we hated (SPOILERS AHEAD):

idc what anyone says the baby shark bit was iconic every time it came on i jammed

klaus had a comic book storyline from hotel oblivion!! let’s go source material!!

diego and luther being himbos

allison and klaus friendship

the entire birthday party scene was hilarious and fun and so THEM ok

the road trip scene that was in the trailer such iconic sibling goofy clownery they’re fucking idiots

klaus. he was in it. any time i get to see my little freak is time well spent.

incredibly unpopular opinion but i liked the ending i think they need an end from the cycle of apocalypses and suffering like they deserve a rest they’ve earned it and it was sweet that they all went together and the “i love you guys………but you’re all such fucking assholes” and then “fuck you” and everyone laughing and crying and THEN AND THEN ALL THE CHARACTERS FROM THE VARIOUS SEASONS BEING AT THE END i was SOBBING

klaus having a podcast of himself giving himself affirmations like that’s so funny

they actually gave somewhat of a shit about each other like diego was so DAD my babies have grown up but not too much they’re still fucking toddlers

lila is so pretty and funny and hot and unhinged she means so much to me

lila and klaus friendship!! lila and allison!! bonding!!

gene and jean were SUCH classic umbrella academy characters. loved them.

viktor gets all the pussy

i cannot stress how much all of the group scenes were so fucking sibling i love them ok

NO LUTHER AND ALLISON INCEST THANK FUCK

THUNDERBOLT THE GHOST DOG <3<3<3

klaus and claire oh my god i love uncle klaus so much and he loves her so much

seeing sober klaus and how hard he tried and then the heartbreak when that went away because he’s KLAUS he’s gerard way’s trauma self insert. as much as i want klaus to be safe and content and free from all this bullshit it was just so consistent and i can appreciate that. and i cried like a little bitch it was truly devastating but it was just sooooo klaus. also getting to see him make it incredibly clear that he didn’t want his powers back—him being the ONLY ONE who didn’t want his powers back—was important to me idk. and he was LOVED like he has a family!! he is cared for!! ahhHHHHHH!! love it

claire was great and getting to see her and allison and their tumultuous relationship and their love for each other after all of these seasons of allison looking for her and just wanting to be with her daughter

klaus got dave’s dog tags <3

more flashbacks to brellie kids!!

getting answers to some series-long mysteries

the underground subway system between timelines was so fucking cool and mindfucky 100/10

klaus’s look being reminiscent of s1 sorry that was my favourite klaus look ok

their sort of evolved powers when they got them back

so many good one liners and comedic scenes

ben being a crypto bro is SO FUNNY

will add stuff as i think of it. this is incredibly out of character for me i am an eternal pessimist but i did enjoy s4 (mostly because, as an eternal pessimist, my expectations are always low) so here we are.

[arliedraws]

How would you characterise Sirius as a teen vs an adult? And what personality traits does he still keep vs not?

Also bonus: how would you characterise Remus?

Hey gooooood question!

Ah hmmm. Well. We don’t get a ton of teenaged Sirius in the books—one pivotal scene, really, and then the rest is conjecture. So let’s proceed with your phrasing—how I characterize him as each. I put this under the cut because it got long.

Sirius as a teenager, in my opinion, is an arrogant and charming. There are students in my classes where you can see that they see you, the teacher, and they notice everything that’s happening around them. Sirius would have been that student who can see behind the curtain. But he’s not going to make life easier for you—he’s just noticing and you feel maybe too exposed.

Anyway, I think he’s terribly loyal to his friends, but he shows his affection by ribbing you. He also shows his mild frustration by ribbing you—except it feels much less playful, more cutting, but he can hide behind the fact that this is how he always acts towards people. But that’s if he feels embarrassed or hurt. If he has a real problem with you, he’ll tell you. He’s also a bit quiet, speaks only when he’s got something to say—he’s careful with what he says. I think Sirius is a person who wants to be control, and as a teenager, he gets angry when he can’t map/measure/predict what someone is going to do. And if you embarrass or humiliate him, you’re dead. This is where you get either the incredibly cold Sirius, or the explosive Sirius.

Contrast this with his adult self—I think Azkaban effectively humbled him. Trampled him. Traumatized him. He learned that although he’s clever, his arrogance and cleverness killed people. We see a spark of his old self when he’s dueling Bellatrix, but most of the time, we only have glimpses of who he was before Azkaban. In PoA, Sirius is so driven, so focused, but he also has moments of sentimentality. By the end of the book, he’s really tried for almost a year to capture Peter, so the Shack scene doesn’t catch him at his best (though I love unhinged Sirius), but sprinkled throughout the book are these moments where we later learn that Sirius really wanted to be there for Harry. Then we have the truly devoted godfather in GoF and we see that he is incredibly patient. He lets Harry talk and talk and talk even though he’s on his knees (hem) in the Floo call (which we learn later is incredibly uncomfortable). This is SUCH a wild shift from the Sirius in OotP who is beyond depressed. Sirius hardly listens to Harry at all in OotP—no wonder Harry felt like he was alone. Sirius, who needs control, who’s only had to answer to himself for the last two years, is suddenly told what to do. Where to go. To sit down and be quiet. In the same place where he was controlled and told to sit down and be quiet when he was a boy. He has no therapist, no coping mechanisms. It’s really no wonder he escapes these feelings by drinking.

One thing I don’t love is when people say that Sirius did not get to mature in Azkaban or that he stagnated, that he was basically a 22-year-old when he escaped. I don’t think so. Just because Sirius is left with only the worst thoughts and memories, he is still left with himself. He probably spent some of those dozen years reflecting—and I’ll tell you what, he probably wasn’t proud of himself. I doubt the 22-year-old Sirius would have cared about humiliating Snape when he was fifteen, but the 36-year-old Sirius seems to have some embarrassment. Also, his prefrontal cortex has been developing too—maybe not as efficiently as it would be in the outside world, but he is aging. His emotional regulation is probably out of whack, yet I think we see in the way he interacts with Harry that he is NOT a 22-year-old. I’ve met 22-year-olds. That’s not how they behave.

Trauma changes you. It just does. I faced some early childhood trauma that shaped how I interact with the world. I can often tell when a young person (25 or under) has lost a parent or a sibling before they tell me. There’s a sort of ill-gotten wisdom of losing someone that close to you. I don’t know how to describe it, but they’ll often carry themselves like an adult. I see this happening to Sirius—he was a mature teenager who grew up quickly in war time, and then experienced a lot of trauma in about three days.

Anyway, that’s just my two cents. Take it with a grain of salt!

(I’ll do Remus another time!)