#which will be written eventually lol

[dyad-of-fate]

why do her friends call her needles

WELL- it's mostly a joke about her day job as an acupuncturist... but also a nod to her night-life serial killer interests. Her signature is to use acupuncture to keep her victims immobile while she effectively tortures them. That being said, her night life activities are kept on a short leash due to her role in the Wall's underground as an emergency doctor and amature psychiatrist- amature meaning she practices, but doesn't have an official degree. And she's actually rather successful.

Needles and her husband "Doc" (Hope Greyson, an ex-research scientist who lost his practice due to experimenting on patients) are basically one of the underground's two-person team for emergency medical attention in Brandt (one of the provinces of the Wall), and who you go to if you have a particularly weird case. And despite their urges, they both keep eachother in check... Doc experimenting on Needle's victims gives them both more than enough satisfaction without going so far that they get caught. Afterall, he gets people to experiment with but she has to be very picky so can't just go after any ol person to satisfy his needs. They're our crazy mad-scientist-serial-killer duo.

Anyway, she actually likes the nickname better than her given one; Carmen Pointer. Enjoy a rough concept

(They're both mega side characters, and not even alive in story propper but it's fun to write their banter.)

[turning-monday-blue]

Sweets (1/?)

The snugness was barely tolerable. She had overestimated herself. She looked surreptitiously over her shoulder and ducked around a corner. The only thing following her were her bad decisions, but she felt chased all the same.

Okay. Calm down. Breathe (but not too deep). Evaluate the situation. What are your options? Can you loosen anything?

She looked down at herself. Past her swollen breasts, past a fluffy roll of upper belly, she examined her waistline. Nope. The button was the only thing keeping the zipper together, and vice versa. For the millionth time, she lamented her morning. What a bright idea, interviewing for a job with a snack company. She was very well aware of how sweets affected her.

Could she find somewhere discrete to wait out her... little metabolic mishap? She looked around for a discrete nook to accommodate her fresh bulk.

The little atrium she had found had a series of plush benches around the walls. She sighed and headed for the one in the corner. She sucked in as best she could and sat down. Some horny little corner of her mind made note of how it felt as her tight belly shifted against her puffy thighs.

Sitting like this, only barely upright lest bending too far compromise her jeans, she couldn't ignore how her waistband was trying to cut her in half. She thought back to how she had done this to herself. The lovely HR manager had very explicitly pointed out the basket of the company's sugary offerings there in the middle of interview table. The woman had been insistent that she try at least one of each, gushing like any good salesperson about their rich flavors and subtle textures, occasionally even peeling one out of its wrapper and handing it to her.

How could she have done anything but eat what was offered to her? And by a beautiful woman, no less. She knew how her body reacted to food like this, but she had been desperate to make a good impression, to look good and eager and employable. A good girl. She ignored that last thought, and the accompanying shiver through her frazzled tummy.

She closed her eyes and tried to steady herself. Breathe in through the nose and out through the mouth (but not too deeply). All she had to do was calm down, and give her body a chance to do the same. Then she could find a back door to sneak out of, go home and hope that somehow that she hadn't blown the interview.

She opened her eyes again and caught sight of herself in a mirror across the room. Holy crap, she was huge. She had been her normal, narrow self, and her outfit had fit very very normally, when she had arrived. But now? Now it looked positively painted onto her. Her breasts were trying to spill out of her tastefully exposed bra and over the lapel of her blouse. She was more balloon than woman at this point. She ignored another tingle.

As she watched herself in the mirror, she noticed something change. Slowly but surely, the last wrinkle in her blouse smoothed out. Uh oh. That meant... she was still filling out. Panic. She tingled again.

No. No. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). She closed her eyes again, and could feel her plump body quietly grow. Crap.

Panic. Calm. Breathe (but not too deep). Calm.

Maybe if she didn't look, it would go away. That had never worked before, sure, but there's a first time for everything, right?

As she rationalized to herself, she noticed the sound of heels clacking towards her hiding spot. Panic!

Maybe their owner would pass and not notice her?

No such luck.

The woman who had interviewed her rounded the corner.

"There you are!"

She struggled to stand. So tight.

"You left your purse upstairs. I get it, though. Interviews can be pretty stressful, huh?"

Like nothing had changed. Did this woman not notice that she was currently three times the size she was when she had shown up? Could this woman not hear every seam in her clothes creaking in harmony? Could the woman not see how wide and deep and round she was becoming?

"It's such a beautiful handbag, I almost wanted to keep it for myself!" The woman laughed. "Oh well."

She took the bag from the woman. "O-oh! Thank you!" Leapt out of her.

"Listen," said the woman, "technically I have to review a few other candidates, but I think you're a shoo-in for the position." The woman moved closer. "No one else has shown so much... enthusiasm." Closer still. She basked in the smell of the woman's musky perfume.

"Oh... that's great!" she managed to squeak out.

"In fact," the woman continued, "if you'd like to come back upstairs, we can have you fill out the onboarding paperwork now, so you don't have to come back just to fill out some forms if... when we give you the job." So close now.

"Um! Okay!" What.

The woman placed a gentle hand on the side of her massive, tight, growing belly. "Listen, between you and me, that passion you showed today will take you far with us. Do you feel like the offer is fair? We can negotiate further if you need." The woman's eyes were so sincere.

What was going on here? She could barely think.

The woman placed her other hand on top of her belly, well hidden by her burgeoning breasts. "I do hope you'll say yes."

"Um..."

There was a pop. Her button pinged away across the room from her overburdened jeans. It made a little thwack sound as it hit the far wall. Her zipper flew down, zizzing audibly. Her belly erupted through the breach. Her blouse retreated upwards. The tingling became a roar. All the while, the woman, as though no tectonic shifts were happening right there and then, continued to implore with borderline puppydog eyes.

The world held its breath with her. How had this woman not reacted to any of that?! What? Was the woman still waiting for an answer?

"...okay?" She tried. She wasn't sure if her brain was still working. "Sure?" Best to stick to small sentences.

"Yay!" cheered the woman, "I really think you'll love it here!" The woman launched in for a quick hug around her exposed belly. The woman's arms didn't go even halfway around her. And still the woman didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

"Well! If you'll follow me back to the elevators, we can at least get the formalities out of the way."

The woman took her by the hand and pulled, still gentle. She followed, mutely. Even the horniest, shamiest corners of her mind were silent, waiting with bated breath.

As they reached the elevators, the woman pushed the up button and stood to the side. "Please," said the woman, "after you!"

On autopilot now, she stepped into the elevator and... wedged into the door. Stuck. What. Panic? Calm? The elevator dinged again as if to say "I'm waiting!"

The cold of the elevator doors brought her back to reality. She put a hand on either side of herself and tried to pull herself in. As though this were somehow normal, the woman chirped "Oh, here, let me help!"

She felt a gentle pair of hands press into her oceanic bottom. Her horny brain thrilled again. She clamped down on those thoughts. No time to be a pervert.

Between the two of them, they muscled her into the elevator. She turned to face the doors in time to watch the woman press into her in order to let the doors close. Normally equipped for eight full-sized human adults, due to her immensity, it very barely fit two.

"We need floor thirty," said the woman into her barely contained cleavage. She tried to reach for the panel of buttons, but by now there was simply too much of her in the way.

"I've got it," said the woman, reaching behind her without looking.

They rode the thirty floors quietly. She could feel herself still widening, pressing towards the walls of the elevator car. Her embarrassment had burnt out, leaving only a kind of stunned peace in her mind. She tried to will her body away from the woman, but where else could it really go?

By the time they reached their destination, the woman was firmly pressed against the doors, still showing no indication of the extra-ordinariness of the situation.

As the doors opened, the woman stepped back, grabbed her hands, and pulled as she tried to wiggle through the door. Eventually she floomped through, and they set off toward the HR suite.

Full-on waddling now, she felt an inner tension release. She had stopped growing. Relief. If nothing else, at least things had stopped getting worse. Sure, she was almost round enough to roll. Tingle. Sure, her clothing had been reduced to barely covering her... rude areas. Tingle. Sure, a beautiful woman was acting as though this was all perfectly normal. Tingle tingle tingle. But hey, at least it finally wasn't getting worse.

The woman pushed open the double doors to the HR suite and welcomed her in with another glittering smile. They seemed to be the only ones there. The woman led her, patiently, to the front desk area. The woman ducked behind the desk, looking for something.

"Hmm, it looks like I'll need to go print off more some more copies of the forms. Shouldn't take more than a minute or two." Finally she'd have a moment to collect herself.

Then the woman produced a basket, laden with various goodies, from underneath the desk. "Here! Help yourself, sorry to make you wait." Uh.

"Oh, here, allow me," said the woman, picking out a chocolate confection, peeling it, and pressing it into her mouth. "I'll be right back!"

She chewed and swallowed the treat.

Uh oh.

[kickedin17]

Think it's actually very funny that between phone transfers and mass deletions and whatnot I've lost all personal documentation of my bandito tour show except this image that I took when we were walking to our uber after the concert

[marimbles]

at the risk of sounding like really entitled….

does anyone else have a fic that is their most popular, but you don’t want it to be, because you don’t think it deserves it, and you have better stuff, and while ofc you are grateful that people like something you wrote, it’s almost annoying that for some reason That one is the most popular. lmao

[feroluce]

When Al Haitham dreams, it's in shades of sandy blonde and red, metallic gold and feather-blue. His nightmares are colored much the same.

Kaveh leisurely strolls ahead of him, shoes leaving deep treads in the soft desert sand. He keeps a careful distance, arms length, and in return Al Haitham keeps an eye on him, the other man's back dead center in his sights.

He curses the sand in his boots and the long line of footprints he steps into, already the exact shape of the soles of his shoes.

They aren't lost. Al Haitham knows where they are. They've been here before. They are still here.

Kaveh doesn't watch their feet. His head is constantly tipped back with his eyes on the stars and their constellations (of which Al Haitham only knows two, Vultur Volans and Paradisaea). He'll walk right into a cactus like that. Al Haitham yells ahead for him to watch where he's going.

Kaveh reaches up to touch the side of his head in a strange motion, but otherwise there's no acknowledgement. They press on into the dark of night.

Something squelches beneath Al Haitham's boot.

It stops him short, pulls his attention like a magnet and as much as he wants to, he can't ignore it. He doesn't want to lose any more ground. But something won't let him move on. Al Haitham watches as red seeps into the golden sand, spills beyond the border of his bootprint until he slides his foot aside.

It's an ear.

It's a human ear, and there's a heavy earring attached, metallic gold, gems red and green, a familiar shape, a familiar shade-

Al Haitham opens his mouth to yell. Chokes. Swallows the lump in his throat as he quickly restarts his pace. Tries again.

"Hey!"

Another squelch under a hurried footstep. He doesn't stop to look. Al Haitham is pretty sure he knows what it is.

"Kaveh, hey!"

The path becomes littered, little slices and small pieces, fingertips and knuckles, Kaveh's arms once held casually behind his back now strewn along the sands. Every time Al Haitham extends his hand to him, reality warps and bends like the twisted image in a broken mirror, lines mismatched and edges jagged. Kaveh flits just beyond his grasp, fleeting fae, no longer able to hear him or to reach out to him. Al Haitham can only grit his teeth and follow.

His right foot marches forward. His left follows. His right again. His left suddenly doesn't follow, and Al Haitham is thrown off balance and pitches forward, swinging his arms outward to land on his palms and keep his face off the ground, because he's been in the desert enough times to know what a foot suddenly being stuck can mean.

Quicksand.

Al Haitham curses and swears in just about every language he knows as he tries to spread his weight as evenly as possible, stay afloat at the top of it because if he sinks, he knows he'll be done for, and shit, Kaveh.

His neck cranes uncomfortably in his search, Kaveh had only been a few feet in front of him, he can't be sunk much further, and he's in the desert much more often than Al Haitham anyway, he'll be familiar with what to do-

Kaveh stands in front of him, empty sleeves fluttering loose. Still just out of his grasp, still watching the stars. The quicksand is already up to his calves.

"Say, Al Haitham..." It's the first he's spoken this whole time. His voice resonates somewhere deeply nostalgic in Al Haitham's chest, produces a ripple that momentarily stuns his heart.

Kaveh is sinking.

Al Haitham stretches out on his belly as far as he's able, it's quickly up to his knees, Kaveh isn't even trying to redistribute his weight or pull himself out, it's at his thighs, Al Haitham sucks in a breath and yells for him, his hips, yells louder, his waist, Al Haitham's trembling fingertips can almost reach, his chest, Kaveh drops level with him, quicksand about his neck like a noose.

Kaveh's head tips back, back, impossibly far back, until it hangs, angle awkward, and he's looking right past Al Haitham with his tired smile and gouged, blinded sockets full of starlight.

"Do you believe in karma?"

The quicksand swallows him entirely and Al Haitham dives, shoves his arms deep and pushes off with the one foot he'd had left on safe ground, because he can't, he can't, it's not the same without Kaveh, not anymore, he needs him, no one else keeps him sharp, no one else challenges him like Kaveh, if he can just grab him, if he can just pull him back up-

Al Haitham thrashes, against the sands, against gravity, against the hardwood of his bedroom floor. Clumsily scrubs the back of his hand across his face to rub the grit of quicksand and sleep out of his eyes.

Sometimes he thinks he preferred it when the Akasha was still harvesting his dreams.

He pops his head out from under his weighted blanket and lays where he'd fallen out of bed for a moment, blinking blearily against the lamplight shining from his desk in the corner. Deep breaths. His consciousness shifts along the blurred line of nightmare and reality, crosses over the slow transition into wakeful awareness.

He's home, Kaveh is home. It's dark out. The house is dead silent.

He's just going to go check, he tells himself as he peels himself out of his sweat-soaked shirt and roots around for a replacement. He's already losing memories of his nightmare, the details spilling away from him like wet ink, but he knows he needs to see Kaveh. It'll feel better to do something, anything, than try to go straight back to sleep.

He's quiet when he slips out of his bedroom door, because they both keep late hours but their bedrooms are right next to each other, and Al Haitham will never hear the end of it if he wakes his roommate up.

Lights off, door shut. Nothing conclusive. He moves out to the main room.

Kaveh sits on one of those ridiculous sofas he'd ordered three of for some reason, back to him as he tucks a lock of hair behind his ear. A mostly-empty wine bottle stands tall on the table, next to the cobbled-together remains of an architectural model that's been picked and fussed over for four days straight now.

"Kaveh? What are you doing?"

This earns him an exaggerated startle, but Kaveh doesn't turn to look at him, preoccupied with whatever new sketch or blueprint he probably has in his hands. "Ohhh, nothing," he slurs cheerfully. "Just working. Just thinking."

Kaveh has always been the world's chattiest drinker. Al Haitham waits for the rest of it.

"Say, I think...I think I asked you this years ago, back then, but you never answered me." Al Haitham feels all the blood drain from his face in ominous familiarity, drip cold down the length of his spine. Kaveh sinks into the couch until he can tip his head over the back of it, looking up at him with a tired smile and exhausted eyes.

"Do you believe in karma?"

[raiiny-bay]

dressing up the boys again pt. 2

[5eyed]

some recent sprites for "on the flip side" characters (or rather the dimensional doubles of existing characters lol). ive posted characters from this universe a lot over the years, as its my oldest story that i still work on/think about, but ive never really explained who they are! if youd like to explore the setting and characters of "on the flip side" a bit, i made a carrd for it here (its still a wip but im trying to get it all finished within the month! main characters have fully written out bios & backstories, some side characters still just have basic info.) (also this all takes place in a fictional californian city and if you read this and go "wow that is definitely not how things are in california or the us" sorry i dont know shit im french.)

[sevicia]

Guy who sees a Tumblr post and makes girls about it

[vampyroteuthid]

one bad thing about my job is that i only get paid once a month (technically twice but the second one is only like $100 i guess?) and i'm broke and owe multiple people money and am actively trying to move rn and only getting paid on the 3rd of the month or whatever is NOT fucking helping

[lockedtowers]

Because, I am one of them.

Ind. Sel. Headcanon based and multi canon influence, WILLIAM AFTON/PURPLE GUY/THE KILLER from Five Nights at Freddy's, featured on mendinggashes, a dual muse blog.. NOT SPOILER FREE. Please read pinned before following. Template Credit.

[dirigibleplumbing]

well, I hope y'all like choose your own adventure stories...

[orcelito]

i miss akechi goro so much. maybe even enough to finally finish that ladue chapter 3

[homiines]

i should come with a warning . . . caution: will ask if anyone wants a starter but will take 10 years to actually write them.

[shinraelectricpowercom]

on god one of these days i am GOING to write that dismissive-avoidant-attachment-style!elrond fic that the world Needs

[universestreasures]

Extension / Spinoff Of This Thread With @shacchou

🎶"Looking up at the sky with you, two bright shining stars call to us. Here we are, standing strong. Shining with our Buddy Lights..."🎶

The gentle and soothing singing voice of his friend was pleasant on the young boy's ears. Never in a million years did he think Tasuku had such a hidden talent, and yet here he is listening to him sing a song from the heart just to try and help him feel better. Then again, the Buddy Police Boy Wonder was good at a lot of things: Buddyfighting, school, investigating; just to name a few. So, him being good at yet another thing shouldn't be too surprising by this point to Mokuba.

He really was just like...Seto, wasn't he?

Drawing those comparisons between Tasuku and his brother was what the young boy had begun to do unconsciously since their initial meeting, but such things slowly became more and more common as he spent more time here. In fact, even now as he sits there listening to the other sing his tune, he can't help but visualize a younger Seto there soothing him instead, despite the fact Mokuba's never heard his brother ever sing before in his life.

Yes, the pre-teen seemed to embody the positive qualities that Mokuba associated with his elder brother from the past: warmth, gentleness, selflessness, compassion, happiness, protectiveness, honesty; all of those things he saw in Tasuku. Perhaps it was those qualities in him that had drawn the younger boy to seek out his help specifically during this time. After all, this entire situation came about because of his own feelings regarding the past, a past he can't seem to stop trying to chase despite promises of a prosperous future.

Such feelings did not change ever since being here. In truth, being around the blue-haired boy just made them stronger, the younger Kaiba feeling a semblance of what was lost the day he and his older brother were adopted. That just spoke though to a simple fact, a fact the boy knew deep down but did not want to admit to himself: that Mokuba had not yet fully accepted in his heart who his brother was today, in spite of their improved relations after Duelist Kingdom.

Mokuba wasn't so naive as to think that neither him or Seto wouldn't change over time. That would be nonsensical, especially considering the circumstances of their lives since becoming Kaiba's. No, what Mokuba couldn't seem to comprehend, and felt frustration and sadness towards, was why his brother was still...well...a stick in the mud, to put it nicely, long after their stepfather was gone.

From his viewpoint, that man was the sole reason for Seto's major shift in demeanor. So why did he have to keep acting so cold and grumpy now? Like he wasn't looking forward to the future he had been preparing for them all this time? The question went unanswered in his mind, no matter how much he tried to come up with an answer.

It had taken Mokuba some time to regain his own true smile after everything that's happened, no part in short thanks to Yugi's crew and his own he managed to make. He wants the same for his brother, to heal past the pain of Gozaboru's tryannny and be able to be as happy as he was prior to it. That selfless desire that seemed so far out of reach was a key part of why he was so hurt. He felt like his brother was just keeping himself miserable needlessly, overworking himself to death and isolating himself from and rejecting anyone who dare try to add some happiness into his life.

He just wanted his brother to be happy again like he was before, to play with games again truly for the fun of it and not in pursuit of revenge or victory. Was that so wrong to wish? To wish his brother could try to start to heal after the suffering they both went through, like Mokuba had?

Clearly, that sentiment was wrong. Otherwise, the elder Kaiba wouldn't have rejected his feelings that night so fiercely. In spite of his good intentions, Mokuba's feelings were burdening his brother, trying to drag him to a place he didn't want to go near for reasons not understood. It's something he's felt since a young age and seen time and time again to the point where he questions whether his inclusion in Seto's life was ever a good thing.

If Mokuba wasn't around, then his brother no doubt would have been adopted quickly and potentially not by a monster like Gozaboru.

If Mokuba wasn't around, his brother wouldn't have had to fight so hard to protect and care for him all the time, to secure a future for them both when securing one for a genius like him alone would have been easier.

If Mokuba wasn't around...perhaps he never would have lost his smile to begin with.

The very thought causes tears to come from his purple eyes, syncing up with the end of Tasuku's sweet song. His breaths came out shaky, unable to stop the floodgates from flowing. Without needing to think, his hands move to clasp the pair of lockets around his neck, as if he would die without doing so.

"Why...? Why?! Why am I such a burden?! Such a bad brother?!"

His voice echoed throughout the small apartment room, his voice portraying the inner pain he felt akin to being kicked in the gutts. Why did he have to follow Gao's advice? Why did he have to speak his mind and say such hurtful things? Why didn't he just let things be as they are despite wanting so much more, like he's done before? Why did he do something that would risk his staying in his brother's life?!

Perhaps taking that risk was why Seto had yet to contact him since he left. Because maybe he felt the same thing Mokuba was starting to think: that he didn't want him to come back. That way, his brother wouldn't have to entertain the younger boy's 'nonsense' anymore, and he could live his life without being reminded of the past he clearly was repulsed by.

Maybe...things were better off this way, after all...

"Mokie Mokuba."

The all-too-familiar voice reaches his ears, and an all-too-familiar touch can be felt on his shoulders. Mokuba opened his teary eyes slowly in response. In front of him, with his vision blurred by the water, he...saw him. He saw his brother, but not the one of the past, but of the present.

Did he come here to see him? Did he come here to take him home? Did he come here because...he still loved him?

"S...eto...?"

"You're not..."

"A burden or a bad brother." The illusion Mokuba's mind had created shattered with Tasuku's next words, as gentle as they were. The young Kaiba was now thrust again into reality, purple hues glancing up at his friend who had been the one speaking the whole time. Seems like his mind and heart were continuing to play tricks on him.

How cruel.

"Listen to me. You've done nothing wrong. It's your brother who has. Don't blame yourself for his mistakes." Mokuba is then pulled into the other's arms, him being comforted by Tasuku's warmth. "Never think you can't express how you're feeling or that it's wrong to feel how you do, no matter who tells you."

The embrace lasted as long as he needed to calm himself. After having cried himself to death, the older kid lets go, gently standing up from his position of sitting next to the boy in order to gently try and guide Mokuba to lie down once again. Once he is set, he watches Tasuku grab the blankets, scattered at the bottom of the bed, and attempts to tuck him back in, not realizing his method of tucking was not to Mokuba's preference (it was too tight). Still, the young Kaiba didn't voice anything to the contrary, for he had lost his voice from all that crying.

"Now, try to get some rest, okay? Gao is coming over tomorrow. He said he wants to have a game of Capsule Monsters with you. I'm sure you two will have a blast." Tasuku then moves to the door's exit, Mokuba glancing over at the soft smile he can see through the light coming from the rest of the apartment. "Sleep well, Mokuba. And if you need anything, don't hesitate to call me or Jack. We're here for you."

The door then closes, leaving Mokuba alone in the room whose only light source was a nightlight Tasuku had gotten for him. He reaches for his Blue-Eyes plush, hugging it tightly for support. It's then he reaches with one of his arms to open his own locket, staring at the picture of Seto inside intensely until he passes out from emotional and physical exhaustion.

[thegoldencourtyard]

Sort of feel I gotta make a little PSA here that although I'm a Gallabin (Gallagher and Robin) shipper, this blog is not ship-focused or Gallabin-focused. While my bio for Gallagher is only temporary until I finish the Penacony main storyline, my Gallagher does not revolve around Robin. Both are their own characters, and by default Gallagher is not in a relationship with Robin. I am open to writing Gallabin content, though I prefer if there's some sort of pre-establishment discussion as well as chemistry because I don't want to write ships just to write them with little to no chemistry (this goes for allcmy other blogs too).