#adding this to the list of things every character should own

[mayspicer]

Girl help I really need to do the test tasks for a new job or else my life is gonna get very bad real soon, but all I want to do is draw ttrpg characters.

[chrissv4mp]

MISS ME? ᝰ.ᐟ

warnings. smut, angst, fluff, fingering, g!p (girl penis), p in v, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, car sex, switch!billie × switch!reader, added characters, porn with some sort of plot, language.

synopsis. billie eilish. everybody knows her: the girl who always left both men and women in the dust during her races. you've been the starter to each one of them, and recently, you've noticed she hasn't been showing up. it's been two years, and when a big new name comes into town, billie's quick to pull up to reclaim her special title. and her girl.

au. g!p street racer!billie × starter!reader

words. 6.7k

letters. let's excuse my horrific description of street racing—and just cars in general.... also, i'm re-reading this and just now realizing i only made one reference to 'just keep watching...' the song i was originally taking inspiration from—alongside '2 hands' and 'sports car'..... anyway, enjoyyy!!! i had so much fun writing this 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

there's a stretch of road just outside of the city no one uses anymore—too bumpy for traffic, too dark for cameras, and too far out for any law official to care. potholes like craters. traffic lights flickering yellow every now and then. most maps don't even list the name of the street anymore.

but the second the clock ticks past 11pm, the place lights up like vegas. and everyone who matters knows where to go.

you're always there before the first wave of engines start to pull in, headphones slung around your neck, pistol on your waist, boots up on the concrete barrier like you own the damn place—because you basically do. since you were just sixteen. an older girlfriend of yours had brought you to one of the races, offered to let you shoot the starting pistol, and you fell in love with it instantly. the adrenaline. the rush. and now, five years later you're not even the slightest bit bored.

your clipboard's tucked under your arm, pen behind your ear, eyes focused on the roster of names and heats for the night.

behind you, the old lot's filling fast—old imports, mustangs, beat-up chevys with rebuilt engines and matte paint jobs that already have scratches. headlights making the dust particles visible, exhaust rolling low and thick through the air. cars park in crooked rows beside yours, grills gleaming under the floodlight hung on the power pole. some racers lean against their hoods with their arms crossed, scoping out the competition. others are all talk, loud and gassed up, trying to seem special before they even touch the start line.

you don't flinch when engines rev. don't move a muscle when someone pulls up too close. you've been the starter long enough to know who's real and who's noise.

and you? you're something in between. not a racer. not a spectator. but the one who calls the shots, drops the flag—the signal that turns waiting into war.

people watch you more than they should. and, yeah, you notice, you just don't care.

the boys flirt. some ask if you've got a favorite just to see if you'll flatter them. you never do.

you do have a favorite, though.

but you never say her name. not anymore. not after she kissed you without informing you it was her last race and just up and left without another word—without a proper goodbye, without a proper way of letting you know how she felt towards you.

though, you do still say things like: "no one ever drove that curve like she did," or "that start? it was okay. my girl used to redline smoother."

or the one that always riles them up—"mariah's fast, sure. but she wouldn't beat my girl. not if they went head to head."

and that's when they start arguing.

"you're crazy."

"who the fuck even is 'your girl'?"

"mariah would kill her."

you let them talk, let it go in one ear and out the other. you don't bother answering them when they ask who she is. don't mention that you still check the list every week in hopes of her being on it. you don't tell them she's the only racer on the track who ever had your heart stuttering when she looked at you from behind her tinted windshield and smiled like she already knew how the night was gonna end.

it's nearing midnight when a particularly loud engine rolls into the lot, and you look up quickly—a cherry red charger, engine purring low and smug. some whistle. some cheer. others hold up their phones like they're filming something that can only be seen once in a lifetime. mariah moore.

she kills the engine and steps out slow, calm. mariah's a whole show: gold hoops, leather jacket, acrylic nails brushing her tan cheek as she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. she doesn't look at you, not at first. but you can feel the way the air shifts.

someone murmurs, "she's takin' it all."

you shake your head mindlessly. your mind drifts. like always.

because even with mariah here—the biggest name in street racing, fastest in the city—she doesn't make the street rumble like billie did, she doesn't even compare to the way billie had your palms sweating and your breath hitching.

you don't say it out loud. but she's already here.

lingering in the sound of a loud bass in someone's car. ghosting through the exhaust haze. trapped in the back of your throat each time someone asks, "who's your favorite?"

they all think mariah would crush her just because you keep her nameless. but you know better.

you know what it felt like when billie pulled up the line, slow and sure, making everybody forget who they really came to watch. you'd recognize the sound of her engine from a mile away, the melody of the song that was always playing when she rolled in.

you're leaning back in one of the old metal chairs under the check-in tent, clipboard in hand now, pen in the other, trying to make sense of the barely legible names scribbled in sharpie and faded pencil. the lot feels more alive than any other night before—laughter echoing off the crumbling brick of the nearby warehouse, engines revving in an effort to intimidate others, bass rocking a few cars subtly.

someone slides up next to you. aiden, one of the other starters. tall, kinda weird, always smells faintly of gasoline and peppermint gum.

"you got heat one lined up yet?" he asks, leaning in to scan the paper over your shoulder.

"workin' on it," you mutter, squinting at the mess of names, pen caught between your teeth. "who the hell wrote 'slim jim with the jaguar'? i swear, these guys are getting out of control."

aiden laughs, full and loud. "hey, that's jaxson. he's been coming out since last spring. you'll probably remember him once his muffler explodes again."

you shake your head with a soft laugh, but your attention stays sharp. you've done this a million times—balancing chaos, keeping things moving, occasionally breaking up a fight or two. you're not just the starter, you run this area of the streets.

"alright," you say, tapping the paper. "heat one is jaxson, reneé, and..."

before you can finish, a silhouette of black and red steps into your peripheral.

mariah.

black leather jacket, tight red crop top, sweatpants low on her hips like she owns the pavement. she walks like a girl who knows she's untouchable—chin up, hair falling over her shoulders effortlessly, eyes locked on you.

"got my name on there?" she asks, voice smooth.

you glance up, meet her gaze. unreadable, but steady. it doesn't faze you at all.

"heat three," you say, clicking your pen and tapping the paper again. "against miles and taylor."

she hums, eyes scanning the list and sighing like she's disappointed. "figured i'd get someone tougher. guess not."

"miles' been doing pretty well," aiden chimes in. "heard taylor's been doing overtime off the track to prepare."

mariah shrugs, uninterested. "i'll dust 'em anyway."

"real humble, moore," is what you want to say, but you keep it in your mind. you don't doubt her words, you just don't feel like she has the right to brag that much just yet.

so you just nod instead, standing up and setting the clipboard on the table beside the flags.

"check-in's by the cones," you say simply, nodding toward the start. "just tell 'em your name and they'll put you in the lineup."

mariah doesn't move right away. she lingers. eyes still on you, tilting her head just a bit to meet your gaze.

"...you seem quiet tonight," she says. "nothin' like before."

you raise an eyebrow, eyes flicking to hers, "and what was i like before?"

she grins. "flirty. sharp. mouthy as hell."

you scoff, turning toward the cars. "maybe your conversations just aren't as flirt-worthy as the other girls' are."

aiden laughs a little, then starts to walk away when mariah glares at him.

mariah laughs, low and real. "okay, starter girl. i'll catch you after i win, sound good?"

you don't respond, instead offering a single nod that doesn't really come off as one. but the second she walks away, that flicker starts again. and not from her. definitely not from her.

from the back of your mind.

the itch of a ghost. again. billie, who always made you stumble over your words like no other—nearly making you forget to shoot the gun when she sent a wink your way from inside her car.

you don't even realizing you're scanning the lot again until aiden comes up and nudges your side.

"expecting someone else tonight?"

you blink. "nah."

but the lie tastes bitter. because billie's name isn't on your list. and you're still looking for her anyway.

praying silently that you'll hear the low hum of a bass line later in the night, that you'll feel the familiar vibration of her engine beneath your feet, through your body.

you look over at the start line just as matthew waves you over. heat one is lined up a few feet behind the line, engines revving, the racers exchanging glances.

the crowd goes quiet as you walk over, starting pistol in one hand, the other resting casually on your hip.

you raise your arm, breathing in deeply, eyes locked on the cars—then you shoot the gun.

they're off before you can even process it, a silver camaro speeding past the line quicker than the others. everyone bursts into loud cheers for their separate bids, others only screaming just to scream.

it was always comforting hearing the cheers and laughter coming from the crowd—even if they weren't for you, it felt like you were still getting your flowers each time you shot the gun and everyone erupted into a loud choir of excitement and happiness. you thrived on it, but never would you dare get behind the wheel and actually drive in one of the races.

billie always terrified you with the way she drove—sometimes with only her knees, other times with one hand while she went 100 on the last curve before she really stepped on the gas and flew down the finish line in first place.

you recall the times she asked you to ride with her. "everything's always better with you. like... like a good luck charm," she'd said to you, fingers twirling a strand of your hair between her fingers before one of the biggest races of her life—and the last race you'd seen her at.

the sound of an engine quickly approaching broke you out of your trance. jaxson's purple jaguar skidding across the finish. reneé comes in second, her black audi following a few feet behind.

then the crowd erupts in mixed reactions, some angry and sad, others screaming and jumping around happily like they've just been rewarded with a million dollars in cash—which, in reality, no bid today was even a quarter of that amount.

the next heat passes by slower than the first, a few rookies taking the wheels of cars that they definitely spent their entire life savings on and didn't research at all.

it's all heat and noise around you—couples kissing over the hoods of cars and girls arguing about something that sounds like a cheating boyfriend? you can't really hear over the loud, obnoxious rev of mariah's charger at the start line, the hood just a few inches away from your legs where you stood between her and her opponent.

you felt the atmosphere change as soon as her name was called to the line. the crowd went quieter, murmurs filling the night instead of loud hollers and disapproving boo's for opposing racers. you couldn't blame them, she was the biggest name in street racing right now—but she was no billie eilish. nowhere near that territory. she didn't even compare to your girl. not now, not ever.

but still, you can feel her eyes on you before she even rolls down her window, smirk calm and cocky. "promise me a date if i win?" it makes your lips curl into a small, amused smile.

"what's the point?" you say, tilting your head to see her better. "i already know taylor's gonna beat you by a mile."

mariah laughs once, hollow. "yeah, funny joke."

you cock a brow. "never said i was joking, moore."

aiden snaps at you off to the side. you don't bother giving him a mere glance. instead, you just walk over to mariah's window and lean over, lips so close she feels your breath on her skin.

"fine," you whisper. "but if you pull some shit like you did last time, except to be blacklisted from any future race you're lookin' forward to."

her expression change is so subtle you're sure nobody would think she's fazed even in the slightest, but you see the way her brows furrow just that little bit, the way her lips twitch in that cocky grin that's wavering on nervous now.

"good luck," the tone of your voice is sweeter than before, eyes softening as you walk back to the middle and pull the gun from it's holster in your belt.

mariah rolls her window back up slowly, eyes locking onto the road in front of her as silence envelopes the crowd.

pop.

and they're off.

everyone lets the quiet continue for a second longer before going insane. grown men are screeching like little girls as they scream mariah's name, bouncing on their toes as they watch her clear the curve. smooth. calculated.

everything she does almost looks staged.

taylor trails behind her in a white bmw m3, drifting around the curve and momentarily grabbing first place. you can feel the tension from all the way across the track, your own heart pounding wildly in your chest—the deal with mariah sounds stupid now that you're watching her keep up with taylor.

"shit," you sigh, stepping back from the track quickly and running a hand through your hair, eyes never once leaving the cars.

aiden walks up just as you say it. you hate how he always has the worst timing. "finally see why mariah was named the best?"

you shake your head, and it slips from between your lips before you can stop it. "no, just finally realizing how stupid i was for promising her a date if she won."

he smirks. "same thing."

the final stretch of the race has you clutching onto your pistol, breath caught in your throat—it's mariah and taylor. miles isn't even in the question anymore, having spun out near the first curve.

it's a blur of white and red as they pass the finish line, engines roaring over the crowds applause and screams. not even you can tell who won—and it seems that neither can the girls as they come to a stop and jump out of their cars, their breaths still controlled as if they didn't have everyone on the edge of their seats.

matthew runs to watch the playback, and you swear you see his hands shaking as he brushes past you.

it's quiet as everyone watches him rewind the tape from the camera at the line.

one beat.

two.

then, "mariah moore. first place by a millisecond."

it's even louder than you expect it to be—people honking their horns while hanging out of them in the parking lot, groups of friends crowding each other and jumping up and down, someone even pulling out a megaphone and starting a chant of mariah's name. that makes you let out a quiet giggle.

but as you watch mariah jump back in her car and park it off to the side, nothing's funny anymore—because her next stop was definitely your house, picking you up late in the afternoon tomorrow for the date.

mariah hops out of her car again, strutting over with even more confidence and cockiness than before. her eyes are locked on you, smile growing, hair flowing perfectly in the cool night air.

she stops in front of you, already pulling her phone out of her back pocket. "think you owe me—"

the sound of an unexpected rev catches everyone's attention. including yours—in fact, you're the first one to turn your head in the direction of the noise.

your heart nearly jumps out of your chest.

that familiar vibration of a bass through blown-out speakers, the thick exhaust smoke trailing behind the car—the car.

billie's black dodge challenger.

mariah is the last thing on your mind now, your eyes locked on the windshield, hoping you'd see her sexy grin even through the dark tint that was definitely illegal. she doesn't even park in a space, just stops in front of the check-in tent and gets out, jordan's hitting the ground lightly, shorts hanging low on her hips despite the temperature, brown strands falling over her shoulders.

the crowd has the same reaction as they did before mariah's race, but the murmurs are louder—more curious.

"is that really her?"

"holy shit, i thought she was gone for real."

"time for mariah to retire."

"didn't she quit?"

billie doesn't spare them a glance. her focus is set on the check-in table, steps long and filled with confidence that even had mariah crumbling a little. you watch as she walks toward aiden, who stood behind the table with a clipboard in hand. he looks up, and you swear you see his jaw drop.

"i want a race," she says—no, demands. firm. unrelenting. "the best you've got. can you do that for me?"

aiden stutters, struggling to find his voice as he steps forward. though he was starstruck, he was also very strict on the rules. "i—i'm sorry, we've already got everyone in their assigned heats. there's no—"

"nah, i don't think you heard me," billie brushes him off, shaking her head with a smirk that you always saw when she was getting pissed off. "i want a race."

"yeah, and i said—"

"she's right here, eilish," you cut in, motioning toward mariah, and billie's head turns instantly. the smirk on her face grows into one of excitement, eyes glinting with something you can't quite name.

the brunette scoffs, his eyes widening. "y/n, you can't—"

you eye him. "she's billie fuckin' eilish. go read an article before denying her again."

billie laughs quietly, pushing off the table and walking over to you, stepping between you and mariah, who she doesn't pay any mind. her eyes flick to your lips, biting down on her own before finally looking you in the eyes.

"miss me?" she whispers.

you shrug. "did you win yet?"

her smirk grows. then she gives a shrug of her own and raises her brows. "we'll see."

mariah steps forward just as billie steps back, the two of them now side by side in front of you. their eyes gravitate toward each other, both of them giving the other an obvious once-over before billie speaks.

"mariah moore," she murmurs. "i've heard about you. best racer in town as of now, yeah?"

"yeah," mariah answers quietly. "you must be billie. haven't shown up to a race since 2022, correct?"

the question has no obvious bite, but the tone in which she says it has billie poking the inside of her cheek in frustration, nodding her head instead of saying something stupid.

"hurry up, girls," you interrupt, nodding toward the line as they both look up at you.

"yes, ma'am." they answer.

billie jogs back to her car quickly, jumping in and pulling around to the line, the crowd pulling back and forming a path for her. it's nearly silent now as mariah reverses just behind the line again, the low hum of both engines setting the mood.

tension is high as you step onto the track again, planting your feet firmly onto the small sliver of pavement between both cars.

you look over at billie, who flashes a smirk before turning back to the road, lips lowering into a thin, tight line. once she was focused nobody was able to break her out—not until after she won the race.

then you glance at mariah, who's already staring at the road, gripping her steering wheel tighter than she did when put up against taylor and miles. the last race scared her, you could tell in the way she was so quiet after jumping out of her car earlier—so there was no doubt she was terrified right now.

your eyes flick to the pavement behind them, pulling out your gun and raising your arm, elbow straight. you inhale, exhale.

the gun goes off.

and so do billie and mariah.

billie's challenger jumps forward first in your peripheral, and you turn quickly to see who gets the starting advantage. it's billie, per usual. the adrenaline running through your veins is 20x more strong than it was when you were watching mariah's race. because after not seeing billie race in so long, you're unsure if she still has it.

but you don't lean into the doubt just yet.

mariah's red charger weaves around billie's challenger, taking the curve perfectly and bursting out of it. she doesn't get far. billie kicks her gear lower and speeds past mariah with practiced ease, accelerating quick and drifting on the last curve.

you hold your breath as mariah creeps up on billie, engine revving loud as she tries keeping up with her—but billie's already got the length of a car hood between her. the crowd screams in anticipation, watching as billie bolts through the finish line and slowly comes to a stop.

mariah follows behind her, tires not moving nearly as fast as billie's were. the crowd is speechless, not even hollering coherent words anymore, just babbles of nonsense and excited cheers and squeals.

billie reverses with her head sticking out of her window, a proud grin on her face as she parks just off of the track. she steps out, and you can already feel the smugness radiating off her even from a few feet away.

she walks over to mariah, tapping her shoulder and holding out a hand. "good race," she compliments. "'m'not bad, considering i've been gone since 2022, right?"

you see mariah's expression flip quickly, brows furrowing in frustration as she pushes away from billie and mutters something under her breath.

billie's in front of you before you can even announce the winner—even though it's clear.

"let's try this again," she breathes, taking your hand and bringing it up to her lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles. "miss me?"

your hand finds the collar of her shirt, pulling her close, lips mere inches away from hers. "you know i did."

you don't let her get another word out before kissing her. hard. passionate. like you've been waiting for this since the last moment you saw her. because you have. you've been waiting for it so desperately and now you finally get to do it.

her hands find your waist, pulling your hips forward, pressing your body flush against hers as she kisses you back just as passionately, eyes fluttering shut, heart thumping against her chest so loud she's sure you've already heard it.

you pull away abruptly, breathing hard. "let me show you."

billie doesn't miss a beat—and you don't even care about the small, sharp pain in your wrist as she twists it, dragging you toward her car and practically shoving you into the passenger seat.

you swear you hear aiden call after you, but billie's already pressing on the gas and speeding out of the lot without a second thought.

she doesn't drive far from the noise, pulling off to the side directly under a blue streetlight, a ray shining in through the tinted windshield. billie shifts into park, then glances over at you, still breathless.

neither of you say another word. you just climb over the center console and straddle her lap, legs pressed against either of her thighs, hands snaking up her chest and around her neck, squeezing lightly just to hear her gasp.

then you lean forward, lips finding hers, rougher than before—dirtier because you weren't accompanied by a large, judgemental crowd. billie's tongue presses against your lips, asking politely for entrance. you grant it without another thought in your hazy mind, moaning softly against her mouth when you feel her tongue clashing against yours.

her hands slide down your body, squeezing your waist gently. then they move down to your ass, pulling you down against her lap, pulling you closer to her like she wants to morph your bodies into one.

"don't ever fuckin' leave like that again," you growl against her lips, kissing down her jaw, then scattering open-mouthed kisses along the expanse of her neck.

she huffs a laugh, head falling back against the headrest, eyelids fluttering shut as she lets out a small, relaxed breath.

your teeth nip softly at her pulse point, eliciting a pained hiss from between her pretty lips—you soothe the bite with your tongue, sucking gently, the sensation a contrast from the sharp pain just moments ago.

billie brings a hand up to your hair, fingers tangling in the messy strands of your hair. "thought you'd have forgiven me by now."

a scoff escapes your throat at her words, but it dies down into a surprised gasp when she bucks her hips up, something hard pressing against your clothed core. a shiver runs up your spine.

"don't get an attitude with me now, sweetheart."

you roll your eyes, lips pressing back onto her skin, one of your hands snaking down her chest and slipping under the hem of her shirt, fingertips teasing the smooth skin of her stomach. her breath catches noticeably, pulse jumping under your tongue.

"i have every right to have an attitude with you," you grumble, palm finding the cup of her bra and squeezing through the fabric. "i should fucking hate you. i mean, you kissed me and then up and left without another word. a text would've been enough, billie."

billie bucks her hips again, groaning at the pleasure.

"let me make it up to you then," she pants, slapping your ass.

her hand untangles from your hair, sliding down your neck, your chest, your stomach, before eventually snaking down into your little shorts. the damp spot on your panties is enough to make her moan, eyelids fluttering open to meet your eyes as you gasp.

she stares directly into your eyes while stroking your clit through your panties, biting her lip and smiling as she watches your brows furrow in pleasure, hands finding her shoulders, nails digging into her skin even through the fabric of her shirt.

then she slips her fingers past the cotton waistband, fingertips sliding through your soaked folds, running along your dripping slit and slowly pushing in two of them. the moan that escapes your throat is long. loud. like you've been holding it in for her since before you can remember.

your eyes roll back when she scissors her index and middle fingers inside of your cunt, thighs trembling around her lap, nails unrelenting on her shoulders.

"yeah," she coos. "there you go, baby girl. just needed me to fill this greedy pussy of yours for you to shut up, hm?"

billie lets out a moan of her own when you roll your hips forward, pressing down just enough for her to feel it through both the fabric of your pants and her own. she bites her lip, hips bucking up involuntarily as she watches you get off on her fingers.

she inhales sharply. "so tight, too. fuck," she breathes. "been waitin' for me, haven't you?"

you nod mindlessly, jaw falling agape when billie pushes her fingers deeper, thumb finding your clit and pressing down hard. if that wasn't making you see stars, the added pleasure of her lips on your neck definitely was.

"billie, oh my fucking—" you cut yourself off with a guttural moan, hips stuttering against her palm. "god—i—fuck you."

you feel her grin grow against your neck, lips so soft and plump and mind-consuming as she continues kissing you, fucking you. deep. hard. passionate.

"in a minute, doll," she teases. "can't even be patient and wait for my cock. so fuckin' greedy." she murmurs, kissing her teeth.

a low whine of frustration emits from your throat at her teasing, walls clenching around her fingers as you feel your orgasm start to approach quickly. your breathing goes shallow, quick, short breaths falling from between your kiss-swollen lips.

"shit—gonna, oh my god, m'gonna cum!" you whine.

billie huffs. "c'mon, mama. make a mess f'me."

and you do.

with a loud, broken moan, your walls flutter around her fingers and you finally feel the knot snap in your tummy. she slowly works you down from your high, muttering sweet nothings into your neck as she leaves a litter of kisses all over your skin.

her free hand creeps up your chest, fingers wrapping loosely around your neck—casually. like she owns you.

and after this, maybe she will.

"this make up for my absence?" she hums, thumb running along your pulse point, feeling it jump under the pad of her fingers. she presses down, eliciting a gasp from you.

you laugh quietly, but it cuts off into a disappointed moan when billie slips her fingers out of your cunt slowly.

she brings them up to her lips just as you open your eyes, pushing them in, plump lips wrapping around lengthy digits, tongue moving between the crevices and licking off every last remnant of your sweetness.

cold blue eyes never leave yours, eyelids hooded and dark with lust and desperation—and love, above everything.

you bite your lip, already pulling off your shorts and ruined panties, throwing them into the backseat. "m'still mad at you. but i know what'll make it better..."

billie releases her fingers with a 'pop,' a smirk growing on her lips once again. she cocks an eyebrow, tilting her head, eyes finally leaving yours to trail down your half-naked body. her eyes land on your dripping pussy, clit swollen and puffy, arousal leaking down your smooth thighs. she groans.

"yeah, and what's that?" she inquires, hips already moving.

silence. instead, you answer with your hands—fingers undoing the button of her jeans, then pulling down her zipper. you lift yourself slightly, tugging her jeans down until they fall to her ankles.

there's a small damp spot on her boxers, a large bulge prominent in the dark fabric, straining against it. billie whimpers when you cup your hand over the print, hips lifting instinctively at the touch.

she hisses when you squeeze gently, your eyes finally snapping up to hers.

"this—" you squeeze her again. then adding, "—inside of me."

billie nods eagerly, hands leaving your body, moving quickly to pull down the last layer of fabric that was currently denying her access to your core. she could feel the warmth stronger now that her lower half was clad in only her boxers.

you lift your hips again, helping billie tug the fabric down to ankles, joining her jeans. her cock springs up, slapping against her lower stomach softly before standing at attention.

her tip is a light red, leaking profusely with pre-cum that spills down her 9 inch shaft until it reaches the base. she's already such a sticky mess and you've hardly touched her.

it made you giggle.

"looks like you missed me more," you tease, looking at her through your lashes.

billie sighs, nodding again, hands scrambling to find your hips again. she tries pulling you closer, tries to even run the tip of her cock through your slick folds—but your nails dig into her forearms, and she yelps quietly.

"hypocritical much, don't you think?" you giggle again, and billie pouts deeply, hands relaxing on your hips. "patience, baby—remember that?"

you lift yourself higher, positioning your dripping slit directly over billie's tip, and you hear her breath hitch before you even sink down in the slightest. and when you lower yourself, billie lets out a noise you weren't sure she was even capable of.

she whimpers brokenly—high-pitched and already hoarse—as her cock splits you open, stretching you out slowly as you continue to lower yourself until you reach the base.

billie's nails dig crescent-shaped indents into your skin, the pleasure already too overwhelming.

"fuuck," she groans, dragging it out. her head falls back against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. "you—fuck—have you, mmh, always been this t-tight?"

you moan softly when you feel billie buck her hips up again, her tip kissing your cervix. she gasps at the feeling, cock twitching between your gummy, warm walls.

her mind goes blank.

you stay in the position for a moment longer, trying to adjust to her size. your hands wrap around her neck, nails scratching along her skin and sending a shiver down her spine. the feeling of your breath so hot on her lips has her in a trance she's not sure she'll be able to break out of.

billie leans forward to capture your lips in a needy, sloppy kiss just as you start to move, hips lifting until all that was left inside of you was her tip—then slamming back down. hard. desperate.

both of your moans are muffled against each other's mouths, lips parting. you sneak your tongue into her mouth, tasting her—and she falls apart even further underneath you, fingers twitching at your sides.

your hands slide across her neck, hips grinding fast, hard, just right for the both of you—billie squeals into your mouth when she feels you clench around her.

"baby, fuck," she grunts, grabbing onto your hips tighter and thrusting her hips up, pushing her cock deeper. "missed you, missed you so—god, i missed you so much. c-couldn't stop thinkin' about you."

a moan passes by your lips when you pull away. "yeah? touched yourself to—shit—to me?"

billie nods frantically, brows knitting together and jaw falling lower. her hips stutter—a clear sign of her impending orgasm. but you don't stop. don't even pull away or slow down in the slightest.

you needed it. needed to feel her cum inside of you.

the windows fog around you, and now the blue shine from the streetlight is hazy, different shades of blues spilling in through the windshield and onto your bodies and faces. you can feel the car shaking beneath you two.

but it only urges you to keep going.

harder.

faster.

billie mewls quietly, struggling to hold herself together. "holy shit—baby. baby, baby, m'gonna cum! can't hold—fuck, i can't hold it, i—"

"cum, bil," you moan. loud. breathy. "want it—need it so bad. please, please cum inside me."

the second that jumbled sentence left your mouth, billie let herself go—body trembling, mind short-circuiting. your jaw falls open in a silent moan at the combined pleasure of your own orgasm and the feeling of thick, warm ropes of her cum painting your insides.

billie whimpers beneath your body, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck like she needs your scent to stay alive.

it's all heat and heavy breathing after that—the windows still fogged, skin still layered with a thin sheen of sweat, loose hairs sticking to your neck and forehead. billie stays with her face in your neck, arms wrapping around your back, your own hands still around her neck.

billie pulls out slowly as not to overstimulate you any further, helping you lift yourself off her lap. you lean over the center console and grab your shorts from the backseat, pulling them on once you're seated in the passenger side.

you watch billie pull up her own boxers and jeans, buttoning and zipping them with trembling fingers, still facing a few of the aftershocks of her orgasm.

and, though she's still spent, billie's the first to talk.

"...do you forgive me now?"

you can't help but giggle—you wonder how she still even remembered the situation you two were in. it slipped your mind the second you sunk down on her cock.

"i think you know the answer to that," you exhale, stroking her damp hair gently.

billie hums, then pulls away from your neck, eyes softer than you'd ever seen—sincere, a little worried. "...yeah, but i wanna hear you say it."

your face changes, features softening once you hear the quiet, shaky tone of her voice. fear swirled in the pools of her ocean blue irises, and it's only then that you realize she really was worried about this the entire time.

taking her face in your hands, you pull her close, eyes flicking back and forth between the two of hers. she bites her lip, an unreadable expression flashing over her features—fear again, maybe. or maybe it's hope. you can't tell.

"i never hated you for leaving, billie," you explain. firm. "it just... scared me. i thought you wouldn't come back, and i almost lost hope—until tonight."

a ghost of a grin curls on billie's lips.

"so, yes, i do forgive you. even if i still think kissing me before leaving without another word was really low of you," you murmur.

billie inhales, exhales. "i know, that—that was stupid of me."

her lips find your cheek, then your forehead. and, finally, your lips. and then she looks at you again. "nationals were just... they were all over the place, and i finally realized that i had some sort of feelings toward you. but i didn't know what they were—"

"—and when you were the first one to come up and hug me after i won, i just—i felt so full of love and adoration and it all just spilled over and—" she pauses. finds her words. "and i kissed you because i felt like it was too early to tell you..."

she trails off, voice going quiet near the end. she looks away for a moment. and when she feels your thumb brush across her cheek, her eyes snap back.

"...to tell you that i loved—that i love you."

your breath catches.

it's not what you expected her to say—far from anything that popped into your mind. but everything you were thinking quickly faded as soon as she said those three little words:

i love you.

words that you'd only hear in teasing tones from drunk guys who came up to you during races, from racers that were still riding high on the adrenaline they got from winning.

but now, hearing it from billie, it felt like your whole world shifted on it's axis.

billie's cheeks flush pink when you don't reply, shifting uncomfortably in her seat and nearly pulling away from your touch—but you pull her back. into a kiss. one that's far more passionate than the ones before. it's filled with something you can't describe with words. something far stronger than love and adoration and admiration.

when you pull away, you're both out of breath.

"i love you, too," you murmur after a beat, eyes never leaving billie's. you wanted her to know that you meant it.

and, by the look on her face, you were almost 100% sure it got through to her. a cheesy smile curled up on her lips, her teeth shining bright even in the dark space of the car. you return the same smile, and billie practically throws her arms around you.

she pulls you as close as she can over the center console, nose nuzzled into your neck, inhaling your scent—and it felt like she was smelling an entire different person. because now there was a weight lifted off her chest and a something new blooming in her heart.

you hold her just as tight, unable to get rid of the stupidly big smile on your face—especially when you feel billie's fingers twitching nervously on your back.

you both just hold each other like that for a few minutes. in silence. but it's not an uncomfortable silence, far from it. it's warm. gentle. filled with shared understanding.

and, suddenly, you forget that she even left in the first place.

tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @love4madii @livvydunneness @partyf4vor @chxhir0 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @eilishssiennaa @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaaeilish @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz @aka-persephone @bitchesbrokenpromises @jayjaywetforbils @slvt4subchratt @cantlandonmyfeet @tezzzzzzzz

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Regarding the post about Marinette being punished for trusting people and the response to it, this is something I always have trouble explaining because it sounds callous? But fictional characters aren't people. It's not that their lives just so happen to get in the way leading to something bad happened the writers decided that should happen, and it's important that you stop and ask WHY this happens. If the camera is "on" per se, people assume it's relevant and will tie into something larger. So like if the camera is on and all we see is Alya revealing her identity and then the result is she's outed in the same way she was in Heroes Day, the audience naturally concludes it's connected and thus realizes the lesson is either "Alya learns she shouldn't share her identity" OR "Marinette learns she shouldn't trust people" or both.

Secret identities are a great example of this phenomenon. We're NOT shown every time a villain's plan is foiled because they didn't know the heroe's identity, we ARE shown every time a heroe's identity causes friction in their lives. As such, large parts of the audience think of secret identites as inconveniences because that's what's shown (not just in Miraculous Ladybug, in tons of other shows)

Like you are supposed to make connections in Television about what's being shown to you that no one would make in real life (or at the very least no one SHOULD make in real life) because there's a limited space to tell the story and the audience is assuming the writers aren't wasting our time.

If these were real people it would be unreasonable to say because people have their own lives Marinette can't trust them, but in a story where Marinette is the main character who is explicitly always supposed that's. An accurate way to read the story!

And I also understand that this is a very boring construction if you're making headcanons or thinking about these characters! But that's a different lens, it doesn't make the broader writing lens invalid. You're speaking different languages at that point.

Anyway I hope that helps someone, that's my two cents

You summed it up perfectly! There's a ton of valid criticism to be had of Miraculous, but you can tell from the narrative framing that almost all of it comes down to writing choices and not things that are supposed to be seen as in-universe issues even though a lot of fans treat them as such. It's really weird to see things like people complaining about everything revolving around Marinette as if it's a personal flaw of hers and not the result of her being the main character in a fictional world. "Main Character Syndrome" literally pulls its name from the fact that this is how main characters work in a lot of media. It's a flaw when a real person does it, but in terms of story telling, it's extremely normal - and often good story telling - to have everything revolve around your main character or a core cast.

The issue with Miraculous is that they chose a lot of poor conflicts if they wanted Marinette to be the one and only main character, but that's not her fault. She didn't decide to have the rules around identities make no sense. The writers did. She didn't decide to make the main villain Adrien's dad while also keeping Adrien from being involved in the story. The writers did. The list goes on and on and, because none of it reflects badly on Marinette in the writers' eyes, the show doesn't act like Marinette is in the wrong. Remember, these are the same writers who think that Derision was a great episode that added depth to Marinette instead of destroying her character and making her look unhinged. Their judgement is clearly a little skewed.

While the writers love to make bad plot choices, they are generally using proper story telling language to make those choices, which is why I can tell you how characters' actions are intended to be read. The Rena Furtive and Nino example is a great one because it allows me to show that the writers do understand how to set things up. In fact, once they've decided that they're going to do a thing, they pretty much always set it up at a basic level. It's rarely spectacular and often frustrating, but it's never shocking.

In Rocketear, Alya promises Marinette that Nino will never learn about Rena Furtive. The episode then ends with her breaking that promise via the following exchange:

Alya: (sighs) I'm still Rena Rouge. (Nino gasps.) But now I'm in hiding and that's why Ladybug asked me not to tell anyone. Nino: But why are you telling me if no one's supposed to know? Is Ladybug cool with this? Alya: I can't hide it from you, because I love you, Nino, and we share everything.

Look at how this confession is presented. Look at what the dialogue focuses on. When Marinette confessed her identity to Alya, it was all about the confession and supporting Marinette. There was no discussion of this being a problem for Chat Noir or anything like that because - in the writers' eyes - that wasn't a problem for some reason. This is why Chat Noir almost instantly absolves Ladybug of blame once he finds out about the identity reveal (see: Hack-San.) The writers didn't want it to be an issue so it wasn't:

Ladybug: I'm really sorry, Cat Noir. I should've told you. I mean, if I found out that you told someone about your secret identity, I'd... probably be upset, too. I'm really sorry I hurt your feelings. Cat Noir: You didn't hurt my feelings. You did everything right

But when Alya confesses her identity to Nino, the conversation is not just about her confession. It's about her confession and how she's not supposed to do this. That's why Nino's response is not loving support. Instead, he asks if this is a good idea and if Ladybug knows.

These things are getting focused on because the writers are telling you that this is a bad thing. It's supposed to feel ominous. When I first watched Rocketear, I assumed that the season was going to end with Gabriel getting the fox off of Alya due to Nino because that was an obvious way to raise the stakes and they'd just heavily implied that Nino knowing would be a bad thing. I was, unfortunately, right. The only on screen consequence of Nino knowing is that he outs Alya to everyone in an incredibly forced series of events (see: Strikeback):

(Ryuko successfully prevents the Roue de Paris from hitting them, yet, it flies to the direction where Rena Furtive is. This causes Carapace to panic.) Carapace: Rena! (takes out his shield) Shell-ter! (Carapace's superpower successfully prevents the Ferris wheel from hitting Rena Furtive on top of the Tour Montparnasse. But the information of Rena Furtive's active status shocks the heroes, as well as Shadow Moth.) The heroes: Rena?! Shadow Moth: (from the top of the Eiffel Tower) She's still active?

Of course the Ferris Wheel goes straight for Alya's hiding spot and of course Nino screams her name before casting his power and of course the villain overhears it. It's all so forced and unnatural, which should make it glaringly obvious how much the writers wanted this to happen. This wasn't something they were kind of forced to do because it made sense for the narrative and they wanted to tell a good story. Instead, they wrote an awkward series of events because they really, really, really wanted Nino knowing to be a bad thing that outs Alya so that Marinette loses all of the miraculous even though none of this makes much sense.

How the hell did Gabriel hear Nino's shout from so far away? Is he able to overhear everything the heroes are saying? How does Nino even know that Alya is hiding there? And since when was a Ferris Wheel a threat to these guys? Your girlfriend is a magical girl and she's in her magical girl form, dude. You could drop a building on her and she'd be fine, a thing you have to know because this scene literally goes on to have Chat Noir go flying into a building, hitting it so hard the cement literally cracks, and no one really cares. I guess it's fine if Adrien is a punching bag, but Alya must be protected at all costs...

Anyway, while the above series of events was annoying, none of it was surprising. In fact, it would have all be perfectly predictable even if Alya outing herself was that treated as a more neutral event. Her choice leading to bad things falls perfectly in line with a truly bizarre running theme in the show: outing your identity to the person you love romantically is a bad thing that leads to bad consequences. That's why Chat Blanc and Ephemeral ended the world and why Nino knowing cost Ladybug the fox and why the character they call Joan of Arc has to give up her miraculous to be with her love and why the Kwami's have this absolutely asinine dialogue in Kwamis' Choice:

Plagg: Sugarcube! Having to force them to choose between love and their mission is just awful! Maybe Master Fu was wrong to choose them. Tikki: No, they’re made for each other. Love is what gives them their strength. Plagg: But the impossible part of that love is destroying them, and I know a thing or two about destruction. Tikki: (sighs heavily) What can we do? Plagg: We must free them of that impossible choice. We must… free them of us.

This is the voice of the author telling you that outing the identities is not and never will be a good choice for the love square. Never mind that Alya is allowed to know Marinette's identity or that Gabriel finding out is what actually ended the world in the alternate timelines or that Felix outted himself in public but is still wielding or that freaking Gabriel was allowed to know half of the temp heroes' identities while they were still actively wielding. For some reason, those things don't matter to the narrative, probably because romantic love wasn't involved. The "identity reveals are a bad thing" rule only seems to apply when romantic love is a key element to the point where it's a reoccurring theme in this supposed power of love show.

[mscherub]

Hallo, if it’s alright could I request the Second Years (if it’s too many then just Ruggie, Azul, Jamil and Silver) x fem!reader who’s insecure of her belly pooch? Romantic please :3

To keep it kinda short, whenever reader sits/lays down she’s reminded of it, also holding her arms in front of her, slouching to try and minimize it. Trying various things to seem slimmer.

Feel free to delete if the topic’s too sensitive, but if you do thank you in advance!

A/N: AHHH HEYYYY!!! thank you thank you thank, my lovely, for this request. I smiled when I read it ngl. ANYWAYS. I added a few things, barley, just so I could get some storyline :3

Let’s see if my writing got any better cause like…man I’ve been struggling, lmao. I tired to keep it a little funny, that’s just how I write, enjoyyyyy.

Reader is Fem!reader, although I don’t use she/her, Fem!reader is heavily implied, called various pet names and Shrimpy (by Floyd)

Characters: Second years!

Tags: Belly pooch, Romantic ❤️, short headcanon list + fic, slightly and implied established relationship but not mentioned

Warnings:

Suggestive(possibly)???

(If suggestive it’s cause of the leech twins…)

Swearing

Talks about readers belly

Sensitive topic…

Spelling -_-

<3 <3 <3 <3 <3

Fem!Reader x second years

Riddle 🌹:

Riddle is indifferent to most things you do. You break a rule? No you didn’t…not in his eyes at least

Same rule applies with your body. Man will worship it if you just give him a chance— he thinks that way, but when presented he will back out

He doesn’t care so long as you’re happy and healthy ❤️

If you’re not happy then of course he’s gonna need to cheer you up somehow. He may not be a pro, but he’s determine

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Hello, my Rose.” Riddle smiles uncharacteristically wide. It’s funny to see such a big goofy grin on his face, but it’s the telltale sign that he’s just so overjoyed. “I’m very thankful you could finally attend an unbirthday party again. It has been a while since you’ve been able to.” Grim being Grim, zooms by and takes his seat, barely controlling his little paws from grabbing at every piece of food within sight.

Riddle brings you over to the decked out table, every other student who had helped to set up the party on edge and awaiting the cue for him to let everyone run loose. Riddle pulls out the chair for you, which was stationed right next to his, rightfully so, and then he begins the unbirthday party with a swift speech and the wave of his hand before he settles down in his own chair. Everyone scrambles about the table, loosely following etiquette as much as they can to stay in line, well, at least to a certain degree.

Laughter rumbles about, jokes are poked around, people eat with bright smiles, Cater snaps away at the confections before pushing the plate off to Grim then grabbing himself something other than sweets. At least they’re having fun…you sigh and lean forwards in your seat, idly messing with a sugar cube you had dropped n your tea and watching it dissolve.

“Do not slouch…bad posture can lead to many problems. Also, may I add that your elbows should be off the table. We’ve been over the proper etiquette, no?” He gives you a critiquing gaze. With him it was practically a sixth sense to correct anything out of the ordinary, but his words were not harsh as they usually were with others, they were just a gentle reminder out of care. You give a small nod and sit up straighter, well, as straight as you could manage while still trying to conceal your stomach. You fold your arms and attempt to cover it that way, it still looked a bit odd but it got the one done.

Riddles attention drifts off to the tarts, taking one down off of the display and placing it onto his plate and quickly doing the same for you.

“Oh…I’m not in the mood for a tart…not now.” You look away at a card tower to lessen the awkwardness. The silence between you two now is far from comfortable. You can feel Riddle boring holes into the side of your head with his incessant staring.

“Are you alright, my Rose?” He blurts out, the tart long forgotten on his plate.

“I’m fine.”

“It is against the rules to lie to the Queen. Do not have me collar you now. Come, let’s head to the rose gardens and discuss this. I will not allow you to dwell.”

“Riddle since when—“

“Follow.“

He gets up and offers you his hand. You take it and the both of you escape off for a moment.

“What’s the matter? Now do not lie.” He forces you to sit down on a bench with him, watching you do the same actions to cover your belly.

“Ok, geeez, chill out.” The exasperated look on your face says everything and gets him to shut up. “I just…I mean look. I was just trying to hide this flabby thing. So sorry for with messed up way I sit.” You gesture to your stomach, shaking your head and looking down.

He tilts his head, slowly, his brows quirking upwards and his lips pursing as he tries to understand. “I don’t follow, my Rose…what is wrong?”

“What’s wrong? My stomach…that’s what. Pokes out.” You murmur out weakly.

“How is that wrong? It is not healthy to be just skin and bones…muscle and fat is there to protect all the vital organs within.” He adds on.

“You don’t need to get scientific.” You roll your eyes.

“My Rose, you needn’t worry over such things. Why does it matter to you what others may think? It certainly doesn’t bother me in the least.”

“You’re…I don’t understand.”

“What? That you having a healthy body doesn’t bother me? Now why would it? I’ll always love you for you, my Rose. Get rid of whatever mindset you have about yourself, you’re…too sweet to let something like that affect you.”

“Riddle, honey…” you sigh. You lean in and kiss his cheek, earning that usual priceless reaction of him going as red as his hair. “Love you.”

“Love you always, my Rose.”

Ruggie 💰:

He doesn’t care. Like why would he?

In his defense, there’s more to love, and more to claim— WHO SAID THAT—

Loves you no matter what. You already like…belong to him, so why are you worrying?

His top priority is that you’re happy and not on the verge of wanting to kill him or throw him out, very important things

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Yooooo, baby, I managed to get leftovers from my shift at the lounge today, so we can cuddle and binge away, Shyeheehee!” He comes over to the bed with a bag and he plops it down, flopping down himself and sprawling himself out over the sheets with a small groan of pleasure.

“Cmere…we can watch a movie too if ya want.” He stretches his arms above his head and lets out a small yawn before sitting up quickly and practically ripping open the bag and pulling out multiple containers of random leftovers from the day.

“Sure…I guess. I’m not hungry right now, though.” You murmur, settling down next to him. Just out of insntinct you reach for a pillow and nestle it comfortably in your lap to conceal your stomach. You felt more covered and secure that way, and it helped to hide what you hated most.

“Baby, move the pillow, cmon, I need cuddles here, not that shitty thing. I swear that thing gets more attention every time you’re in my room instead of me, your actual boyfriend. I might start taking offense here.” He huffs, glaring at the pillow as if it insulted him itself.

“Huh? I…sorry.” You murmur out almost weakly, still reluctant to peel the pillow away from your body. If you did then, well, in simple terms you’d feel exposed. It’s not a thing your proud of—

“Hey…you ok?” The bed creaks slightly as he sits up and looks you dead in the eyes. His gaze is unwavering and he searches for something slowly within your pupils, trying to understand something deeper that you won’t even tell him.

“I’m good…”

“Don’t pull that. What’s up?” He shakes his head. “You know you can tell me anything, right? We build this relationship on trust and understandings.” He pushes a finger into the pillow and narrows his eyes at you.

“I’m not withholding any info. You’re just crazy.” You roll your eyes at his antics.

“You knew that when you started dating me. Baby, you know I love you for everything? Even if you steal my food…which you’re on thin ice there, but whatever.”

“Ruggie…”

“S. P. I. L. L.” He spells it out.

“Fine…I dunno. Just my stomach. I hate it, like it pokes out.”

Ruggie is silent for a moment, longer than a moment, maybe equivalent to a few minutes before he straightens up and gives you the most confused look you’ve ever seen cross his face.

“Ok? I don’t get it? Why do ya hate it? I think it’s hot. Andddd, bonus, great pillow. You shouldn’t care what others think…unless you’re trying to win their gaze?”

“Ruggie! No, that’s not what I’m…look it’s just something engraved in my brain. Can’t help it.”

“I’m messing around, it’s ok. Seriously, though, you’re gorgeous. Now shut up and let’s cuddle.” He moves the pillow away, and to prove his point even more, he settles down and wraps his arms around your waist, nuzzling his cheek right into your stomach.

“Fucking comfy. Now pick a movie…”

“I…you’re something else Ruggie. I love you and your stupid antics.”

“Awww, you do? Heyyy, I’m just playing. I love ya too, Shyeheehee! But I’d have to argue your boobs make a better pillow—”

“That’s enough out of you.”

Azul 🐙:

He’s been there before…he knows it well, that uncomfortable feeling of being in your own body

But you shouldn’t be thinking like that…

He loves you for you, and that’s all that matters, no? He just needs you to be the way you are

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The lounge is as busy as always and super loud with all the hustle and bustle and other students sitting and yapping away. You can see Jade and an unenthusiastic Floyd wiping off tables with a scowl on his face. You walk briskly past them, of course for your own sake so you don’t have to face the wrath of one of Floyd’s moods, nope! You choose life today, and you weren’t here to pay them a visit anyhow.

You knock on the door once, then twice, before you slip in seamlessly, shutting the door behind you with a click.

“Hello, my pearl.” Azul shifts in his chair, leaning back and taking a few documents with him in his hands.

“Working as always, I see.” It’s common to find him hunched over his desk running on fumes most times, though, he looks a little better than usual today. You sit down on the, still, stiff couch in his office. You lean forwards a bit and drape your hands around your stomach as you do so, an action you do without even thinking about it.

“It’s a must…of course to find better business opportunities, as well. I can’t pass up the chance, you know.” He spares you a small glance before he’s back to reading through the papers swiftly, flipping pages in a matter of a few seconds.

“What are those papers for, anyways?”

“The documents?” He asks. He finally takes a look at you, a good one, and he notes your posture almost instantly. “Bills and what not…the usual conundrum of running a business…” He sits back up and adjusts his glasses.

“Oh, mkay…” you purse your lips and look at the table in the middle, noting the never ending sea theme on everything in the dorm.

“Anyhow…I’m not so busy currently.” He stands up and walks over, taking a seat next to you. His actions are so smooth, the wrapping of his arm around your waist, but when you look at his face, the tips of his ears betray his true feelings as they turn a crimson shade. “I have some time to spare.”

He urges you to scoot closer and he tries to push your hand out of the way. “Azul…”

“I don’t mean to point it out…but I couldn’t help but notice the things you do…” he sighs and takes his hat off, pushing it to the other side of him on the sofa. “It’s most likely not the best way to approach a situation like this, but when I was younger I had the same posture to…lessen…the visibility of my stomach I suppose. But just no there’s no need to be self conscious about such…beautiful things.”

“Azul…don’t make me cry what the hell, dude…” how did he manage to be sweet but also kinda scary at times?

“I’m just stating a simple and obvious truth, my pearl. You don’t need to try and hide it. You’re amazing in every way imaginable, and you’re more than what I could have ever asked for.” He leans his head against yours. He locks his arm around your waist tighter and he turns his face away from yours. He’s embarrassed, but he’s trying.

“Your cheeks are beet red, honey—“

“Shhh, you’re imagining things.” He grumbles.

“Sevens I love you, you know that?” You murmur out, giggling quietly at the sight of him. He looks so stupid.

He chuckles and nods along to your words. “You make it an obvious fact.” His eyes meet yours again and the embarrassment fades into unashamed admiration and fondness. “I love you more, if not more.”

“It’s not a competition, Azul…”

“I know.” He stands up and walks back over to his desk. “Would you like to stay for a late dinner with me?”

“Sure. You’re paying right?”

“When don’t I…” he rolls his eyes.

Jade 🫧:

…

He likes it

Squishy, comfortable, adorable, that’s how he thinks, doesn’t show it per se, but the thoughts are persistent

I don’t know what else to say here so pretend I’m actually saying something factual yes yes yes. LOOK IM SAYING LIKE ACCURATE THINGS WOAHH

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Jade links his arm with yours as he drags you off to his dorm room, his sharp teeth glinting in the hallway lights betraying his enthusiasm ten fold.

You had agreed for him to give you another tour of his newer terrariums that he had made, as well as his ever growing mushroom collection, and he’d be happy to show you that as well if you wanted to see it, just saying—

“My dear, I made one with one of the plants you had picked out…I must say it holds a certain charm to it.” He pushes open the door and lets you step in first.

He walks over and pulls it down off of his shelf that he kept his most prized ones poised on. He sets it down on the table and ushers you to stand by him with a small side glance. He never usually showed this much enthusiasm, but this time he was especially happy to be able to show you something he was proud of, the thing he made that represents you.

“Dear, whats you your input on this?” He already knew what you were going to say, his pieces were never not short of being pretty. It’s like he managed to shrink down an actual fairy forest and put it into a jar.

“As amazing as always…I know I say it every time, but I think this is your best one yet.” You nod.

“Would you like to try your hand in making one? I believe it would be a…what you call a bonding experience.” He murmurs. His hands idly grab items already.

“I don’t wanna mess it up.”

“Nonsense, I’d show you, of course. Though, it would be funny to watch you fail at such a simple thing.”

“You’re…weird.”

“As are you.” He retorts.

“Ok…why not. I’ll try it out.”

Jade nods curtly to your statement. You decided to just clear off Floyd’s side and take his chair, but before you can, Jade yanks you down into his lap and snakes his arms low around your waist, pressing right against your stomach.

“Jade!”

“What is wrong? I don’t see anything wrong?” Oh…that sly bastard—

“I could have taken Floyd’s chair—“

“He would not have been appreciative. Trust me.”

“Baby, no offense, trusting you is sometimes a bad idea”

“You’re going to make me cry.” He sighs and shakes his head. Of course he was just fucking around with you like usual. He always does it, but you’ve discovered it’s his way of affection, as awkward as it may be…

“I didn’t think by bonding you meant melding to me…” you grumble. His hands wander a bit across your abdomen, dancing about and tracing light circles and a few other shapes which suspiciously kinda feel like mushrooms, but whatever.

“It is nice to have you like this.” He nods. “I feel my body relaxing. How peculiar. Plus, you make quite the comfortable thing to hold. Especially here.”

Now he’s done it. His hands come to a halt on your tummy and he grins even wider. It was hard to tell if he was enjoying his absent minded caresses, or if he was just enjoying seeing you squirm and try to move away. Probably both.

“Hands off!”

“My, my…what are you so sensitive for?”

You stop moving. You slump your shoulders and accept defeat. There was no getting away from him in the start, anyways.

“What’s the matter with it?” He asks

“I just don’t like it.”

“Why?” Did he have to know just everything?

“I just don’t like it. That’s really it.” You repeat.

“And you think i wouldn’t like it? Opinions and bias can be skewed and differ from person to person. It depends on the viewpoint. It does not bother me, dear. Simply…enthralls me. Your beauty is certainly unmatched. You outshine many others.” He sets his chin on your shoulder and leans his head against yours.

He’s…being oddly docile.

“Need I go on? I have a whole mantra if you’re interested.” He smirks again, bearing his sharp teeth.

“I thought you couldn’t get any weirder.”

“You must not know who I am, then. I love you, dear.”

“Love you, too, Jade. Let’s start these terrariums then, shall we?”

“Of course.”

Floyd 🫧:

Squishy! (I can’t think of anything else being his mindset…)

He loves it. More to squeeze on ya, and that’s important

Cuddles are always amazing with you. He stands by that. Anyone else who says otherwise will get squeezed in the bad way, of course

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It was yet another long day at NRC, running around, doing everything and anything for students, teachers, Crowley…anyways, and the last thing you wanted to do was get dragged around by Floyd, but, you know, he was, quote, “your main priority now”. You picked him, so now you gotta deal with him. Simple. So when you think you finally get a moment alone, you’re wrong. So wrong.

“Shrimpyyyyyy, cmon. Let’s have fun.” He giggles from behind, wrapping his arms around you tight and resting his chin right in the crook of your neck. “I’m bored…” He lazily traces abstract shapes onto your arm with his fingers.

“I can tell…I’m tired, though…I don’t feel like doing anything.” You shake your head.

“Still doesn’t mean we can’t have fun… Hmmm, I don’t wanna be walking around right now either…me and you should just go cuddle shrimpy. Come come.” There’s no room for protests with his words. He shimmy’s his hand into yours and holds on tightly. So now you’re being yanked along by Floyd down the path from your dorm to the mirror chambers, then into Octavinelle, and then right into his dorm room. Could have just used your room, but, it’s Floyd after all.

Floyd drags you down with him onto the bed with a muffled plop as the sheets morph around the both of your bodies. He pulls you against him, your back against his chest, and his hands wrap around your waist and rest right on your stomach…and if he couldn’t make the situation any worse, Floyd does what Floyd does, and he practically palms it through your shirt, an almost goofy grin spreading across his face.

“Very Squishy.” Of course his actions are…not exactly what you had intended, let alone wanted from him.

“And you’re very ignorant.” You huff, rightfully so, and try to move away, shooing his hands off of you.

“Hmm? Ignorant?” Floyd grumbles. “What did I do?”

“Move your hands somewhere else…”

“Why?”

“Because…it’s awkward. I don’t like your hands there.” He blinks a few times, really considering and weighing your words out in his head. You seemed mad— about his hand placement, nonetheless— he was confused, and him being called ignorant kinda ticked him off. He didn’t do anything bad! “What did I do? I didn’t do anything…just held ya? Is that against the law now?”

He sat up, then you sat up. He crossed his arms and then you followed suit. He didn’t like the mimicking.

“We’re supposed to have fun Shrimpy…not you being mean to me!” He pouts. His anger is building up, you can tell, and he’s honestly a lot less cumbersome to deal with if you just let him do what he wants instead of making him mad and then having to deal with a soured mood Floyd.

“I just don’t like your hands on my stomach. So drop it.” He sees the way you drape the covers over you so they rest in a way to cover up. He notices how you hunch over, now kind of looking like an actual shrimp…he narrows his eyes at you for one more moment before it finally clicks. He lets his arms back down to his sides and he smirks at you.

“Aweee, just like Azul when he was just a lil octotwerp! So self conscious about his little tummy!” He giggles. “Don’t be like ‘zul, Shrimpy, I like it. More to squeeze.” His sharp teeth glint in the light. “And if anyone else has anything to say, I dunno, maybe a bad thing, then tell them they can come to me for a lil chat.”

No other threats are made, so that’s good, but he pushes you back on the bed, hovering over you before he lowers himself down, resting his cheek on your abdomen. He gets all comfy, shifting around and— for sevens sake is this so embarrassing! Like what was he doing, what was he trying to accomplish—

“More to squeeze…and did I say bite too? Guess I just gotta show you how much I don’t mind it, huh? Silly Shrimpy. Heh…”

…

Oh.

Kalim ☀️:

Bro didn’t notice in his fits of admiration for you. Can you really blame him though? You are a work of art in his eyes, and on top of that, you’re his?

Like, you’re his to cherish and love? Say the word and he’ll spend millions

He wants you happy. If you’re happy, he’s happy, so, cue the confused nosies of Kalim when he says something, without knowing, that people find insensitive

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Baby!” Kalim hums happily. He swiftly approaches you in the hall of Scarabia, Jamil apparently no where in sight…oh that’s kind of concerning. Whatever, your with him now. The smile on his face grows even larger as he gets closer to you, of course that bounce in his step as clear as day.

“It’s been like…a day since we last seen each other!” A day, dude—

“Sorry, I’ve been busy.” You shrug. He pounces on you and laughs melodically, the blissful tone heightened.

“I could always help…or Jamil! I know how hard you have it , I think Jamil wouldn’t mind too much to help—“

“I think Jamil is busy enough.” He simply shrugs and giggles happily.

Completely ignoring any other words, he takes your hand and drags you off to the lounge. He throws himself down on the couches and hastily pats the spot next to him, to which you give a small nod and settle down on the cushions as well. He scoots closer and clings to you tight, his grip clearly showing he’s not going to let up anytime soon. PDA was a big thing with him, so…other students watched you two, and when they catch your eyes boring right back into theirs, they turn their heads and look away quickly.

“Your stomach when you sit.” Kalim smiles.

You freeze. Sure you loved him, but that was really rude of him to say…you pry him off of you and scoot away. Other students look over and snicker at Kalim’s “mess up,” though he didn’t know any better since everyone knew his social cues were in the lacking.

“Huh? What’s wrong?” His brows furrow in confusion and his head tilts.

“That was…kind of insensitive you know…geez. Didn’t have to say it outright. I’m gonna go…” you stand up but you don’t get very far before Kalim follows you like a lost puppy, sputtering out apologies in attempts to mend the situation.

“Wait! I’m sorry, what did I say? I’m sorry, please…” His voice is a quiet murmur and, sevens does that hurt you to hear him like that. You stop and turn to him. It was a sensitive topic…

“I know my stomach is…well. You know. You just didn’t have to point it out. Kinda rude…and I don’t like that.” You cross your arms. Kalim, in turn, tilts his head even more and seems horribly confused.

“What did I do? I just…”

“What you did was saying something super insensitive…around people too? Like…” you grumble. It was pointless trying to argue with him whenever he didn’t even know what he did wrong. Like talking to a brick wall.

“What? No, no, no, no, no, I didn’t mean it like that baby. That wasn’t…I think it’s cute! I love you always, no matter what! I didn’t…I’m sorry.”

You let the words sink in, but he continues to blab on to further prove his point, hitting you with the most fluff filled sentences ever.

“I love you so much it kinda hurts, and— you’re gorgeous! So, so, so gorgeous! You know what, I’d even love you if you were a worm.”

“Seriously, Kalim…” you finally crack. It’s comical the way he brightens up again at your positive feedback, so much so he pounces on you and tackles you into a hug. He wraps his arms around you tight and pours all the love he can muster into it…and it’s a lot.

“Sorry…but no, I mean it. Love you always…you’re my sunshine. You make me happy all the time and then I’m never lonely when I have you. I’d never say anything mean like that…I didn’t know you didn’t like it. Oh! What if I buy you whatever you want to make up for it? You’re budget can be any amount of money. Thousands, millions, billions—“

“Kalim…that’s not necessary.”

“But—“ he whines.

“I don’t need it. All I needed was you to understand and now you do.”

“Can I marry you now?”

“KALIM!!”

(After denying his offer to spend so much money on you, you could have sworn you heard a breath of relief that almost sounded like Jamil…)

Jamil 🐍:

Ok?

What he doesn’t care. More food tho?

Like all the other ones, he just wants you to be happy and content, for if you are that way, there is a less likely chance that he’ll have to also supervise you

He already has Klaim to deal with, don’t do this to him…

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“When you said baking I thought I’d be actually helping you…not just sitting here.” You lean your elbows on the counter and glare at him with your bored expression. Baking with Jamil, sounded fun! And of course you’d bake with him, you loved him, but what you didn’t have in mind is that he’d force you to just sit down while he did all of the work…you wanted to pitch in at least a little.

“I’ve decided I just want you to sit there and look pretty while I do the work.”

“That’s not fair…I wanted to help.”

He smiles and looks back at you over his shoulder. He likes this sight, just you gazing at him. It’s something simple, the shared time you two partake in, that’s so special and dear to him. “It’s as fair as it will be. Fair is foul, and foul is fair.” He chuckles.

“Just sitting here is boring…I could be actually contributing to the cause of making cookies…” you shake your head. “Really, Jamil…”

He slips the tray with the rolled up balls of dough into the oven and closes the door to it with a clink. He’s quick to set the timer then wash off his hands.

“I don’t know why you’re complaining about having to not do work…” he hums softly as he dries off his hands on a stray towel before strolling over to you.

“Because I just wanted to help…baking is fun.”

“Just being able to talk to you without distractions is fun for me.” He smiles softly. He gently spins you around on the stool you were perched on. Your arms instantly fly to your lap to cover your stomach and you hunch over a bit.

“Oh, are you ok?” Jamil’s eyes go wide for a second and he looks you over.

“I’m fine…sorry.” You reassure him.

He goes silent for a moment, piecing things together but he doesn’t say anything else, instead, just wrapping his arms around you and hugging you.

“What’s up? looks like you have some things on your mind…” his words are softly murmured, his hands splaying across your lower back.

“You’re one to talk, honey…but I’m ok. I promise!” You smile.

“You do that every time I’m around you…when you’re sitting at least. I just wanna know if something’s wrong…”

Oh…well, ok then. Of course he’d pry into it…

“It’s nothing concerning you—“

“You’re important to me so it should concern me to a certain extent.” He pulls back and places his hands on your shoulders. “Now say it before I make you say it.”

That…threats from him were not nice. “Ok. Since you just have to know…i mean…look it’s a sensitive topic and I’m not proud, ok? I know it’s not—“

“Stop stalling.”

“I don’t like my stomach when I sit, ok? Happy? Now can we drop this.” You mumble.

Jamil cups your cheek gently. “It doesn’t bother me…it’s natural.” He shrugs. “And it won’t ever…I’ll love you always no matter what.” His cheeks flush with a small tinge of pink and it’s an adorable sight to see, and an even greater look to witness on him.

“You’re…something else.”

“I tend to have to be that way…I may not be the best at reassurance but…you’re always gorgeous in my eyes so…”

He moves his hand off of your cheek and he moves in to press his lips to yours, but—

The timer for the cookies rings and echoes throughout the room. Has it really been 30 some minutes already? Jamil gives you an apologetic smirk as he backs up and slips on the oven mitts before he pulls the tray out of the oven. It clinks against the top of the stove and he takes the gloves back off.

“They need to cool a little more…but they’re better when they’re still warm…do you want one?”

“Jamil, who in the right mind would say no?”

“Alright then…”

Silver ⚔️:

Pillow…OK IM SORRY

Another one that doesn’t care. Why should he? It’s not his body…and plus he loves you so much anyways

He’s here to protect you as your personal knight so let him do that :3

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The forest critters chirp and chatter about as you and Silver walk under the tree shaded path, flowers and other plant life dancing away carelessly in the wind. It was peaceful, walking around like this without a care in the world it seemed.

Silver wanted to show you the animal population around school again. You two escaped to just hang out with the animals for a little and bask in each others presence along with the wildlife. It was fun!

Silver‘s hand was intertwined with yours, and he drags you under one of the tall trees along the path. He settled down on the ground and you follow suit. Almost instantly, birds start to flock around and land on branches above your head, squirrels climb down and glance at the both of you, making small squeaks of acknowledgment and interest.

“This is always nice…” you murmur. A deer pops up from behind a bush in the distance and prances over.

Silver pulls out a small acorn from his coat pocket and hands it off to a squirrel that had jumped down and perched on his shoulder.

“There seems to be a lot more today…” he matches your tone of voice, keeping quiet and to set the example of not scaring off the animals.

“Mhmm…” The deer bends down and begins to eat at some of the grass. But, as usual, Silver yawns and you know your time with him being awake will be a little cut short.

“I’m sleepy…” his words are slurred and his eyes droop closed slowly.

“Do you wanna head back to your dorm then? Mine?” You suggest.

“I won’t make it…too tired.” He turns to you, and instead of leaning his head on your shoulder like he usually does, his head takes refuge in your lap and he pushes his face against your tummy, keeping his arms lazily wrapped around you. He yawns again, practically burying his face against your stomach. He places a few small kisses which do everything to make you even more embarrassed, and of course he’s oblivious to it.

“Love you…” he mutters. And then he’s out like a light in the matter of a mere second.

The varied array of animals also seem to quiet down, moving to rest up against you two. Bunnies hop over and move to rest along your legs, the birds quiet their chirping, the deer kneels down and rests its head on Silvers leg…the scene is surreal and comforting.

It’s no use waking him up. The situation is insanely awkward, but you don’t have it in you to wake him up, and you most likely wouldn’t be able to, anyways. Silver is smiling blissfully as he lays there cuddled up against you like nothing else mattered…and that tells you all that you really need to know.

I got it done somehow? I tried…sorry silvers was the shortest one. Anyways, LOVE U, MY LOVELIES <3

Master List

Please don’t steal or copy any of my work! You may, however, reblog if you’d want to!

Pictures belong to Disney Twisted Wonderland but are edited by me :)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Had a dream where Vil was offered a position to be the potions professor (no clue what happened to Crewel) after graduation and it was a whole big thing when he decided to accept but we all knew it was just a thinly veiled excuse to keep him in the school and relevant to the gacha game. He even has a voice line joking to Yuu about how Yuu should work hard and maybe he'd taken them on as a Potions teaching assistant after graduation - foreshadowing the excuse that will be used to keep the player character in the school for the gacha game once the first years reach graduation too

When I woke up I was disoriented enough that I genuinely couldn't tell for a few minutes if the Vil -> potions prof pipeline was just smth the dream made up or if it was an actual recent Twst development that my brain added details to haha

But in relevancy to the above, do you think Twst is going to have a weird time loop going on forever until the lifespan of the game ends?

The characters have aged in the main storyline, which means at some point the third years will be nearing graduation but would they let that actually happen considering the logistics of how the Twst game is set up?

***SLAMS BIG MEATY CLAWS ONTO THE DESK*** This ask reminds me of a L*ona artist I enjoy, @_nantekottai! adhyodwawa I lovingly call them "Dorito-sensei" in my head because I have trouble remembering their actual Twitter handle (sorry...). Why "Dorito-sensei"? B-Because they have a tendency to draw L*ona with very broad shoulders and a small waist... They have an "if the NRC dorm leaders came back as teachers" AU that they've done a few comics for. I’m a HUGE fan of it 😤 and you should be too/j

Here are all the installments! (P.S. shoutout to @/curekibouka for helping me double check the teacher profiles ^^)

Riddle, Leona, Azul as teachers

Riddle: “Next, turn to page 128 of the textbook. The next part we read aloud will be on the test, so take notes.” Magic History professor. Exemplary teacher. Very nice to serious, good students. Definitely asks questions during class. Usually calm but gets mad at cheeky students and collars them. Supervises Equestrian Club.

Leona: “Teacher! There are students fighting in the cafeteria!” / “Leave’m alone, just let the idiots fight among themselves ‘til they’re done.” Ancient Curses professor. As long as you don’t go against the school rules, he’ll let anything slide. Surprisingly good at taking care of others. If you want to learn, he’ll teach you fairly. Supervises Magift/Spelldrive Club.

Azul: “Welcome, new students!/It’s nice to meet you, new students! I am your Alchemy instructor, Azul Ashengrotto. If you have any worries outside of class, such as in your daily lives, please feel free to come talk to me. I will offer a helping hand, just as the great Sea Witch would… fufufu.” Alchemy professor. Very kind despite being employed at NRC, so many freshmen fall for his scams. His desire to find people’s greatest weaknesses aside, he’s an excellent teacher. Supervises Board Game Club. Owns Mostro Lounge.

Kalim, Vil, Idia, Malleus as teachers

Kalim: “Let’s do an improv live for today’s class!” Musicology professor. Super energetic even in early morning classes. Frequently talks about Jamil; you end up learning about both music and Jamil in his classes. Supervises Light/Pop Music Club.

Vil: “Do you have any questions about the class?” Potionology professor. Beautiful. Every generation of Pomefiore students has a fan club for him, but every generation of Ignihyde students fears him. Also good at taking care of the students so he is popular with them (like Leona is). Supervises Film Research Club.

Idia: “Hey, prof!” / “Eh… me…?” No subject is listed. Mostly runs lessons remotely. The few times when he does show up on campus in-person, the students go nuts. “You’re a teacher, at least wear a suit.” — Riddle. “At least tie up your hair.” — Vil. Because Idia is too scared to disagree with either of them, he obeys. Advises Board Game Club. Feels like a completely different person when he plays with Azul.

Malleus: “Staying up so late again, child of man?” Subject is listed as ??? Always a wandering near Ramshackle at night. Students are scared of him, but he would gladly help with their studies if they asked. Supervises Gargoyle Studies Club (members: 0).

Azul's high school memories - Azul is asked about his time as a student. He recalls when Leona sanded his contracts, when he was kidnapped by S.T.Y.X., and when Malleus put him to sleep with disaster-level magic. His poor student can’t keep up with the insanity of his recollections.

Leona's mark (part 1) - a mob student asks Leona to doodle on their exam if they get a good grade (since their other teachers do this).

Staff meeting - due to reports of a strange light near Ramshackle at night, the teachers must take patrol shifts. Idia complains, Leona suggests the light is some troublesome student waving around a light stick. Idia is offended by the insinuation that he might be the guilty culprit. Kalim wants to see him with the light sticks. Riddle is mad they’re off-topic; Vil calms him. The truth is that Malleus is the source of the light. He wants to interact with students, but they run away from him.

Leona's mark (part 2) - mob student shares the doodle they got from Leona to others; the mobs are distracted by the thought of that doodle.

The reason why you were struggling to tell if your dream was real or not is because dreams are actually processed by the brain as though they were actual events that happened to us irl. Very interesting trivia!

I don't know if we can really accurately predict the future of Twst, but personally I wouldn't want a time loop. Setting aside me just not being a fan of that trope, I think it would be really pointless because it would regress the characters and/or keep them from further developing. That's never been what Twst has aimed for. We are meant to want to see these characters overcome their trauma and develop closer bonds with one another, not see them repeat the same mistakes over and over again. I also think that, with book 7 confirming the passage of time, Twst intends to slowly inch forward (recall that 7 books took us 5+ years to reach). They'll probably find some loopholes or ways to keep graduating characters around and/or introduce new characters into the main cast to keep it stacked. After all, events are always there to be non-canon to the main story and offer alternate paths. Yuu might honestly be trapped in Twisted Wonderland forever + take on a career as NRC staff or something just to keep them relevant in the narrative.

[idrawprettyboys]

Advice for Aspiring Commissions Artists

I recently had someone ask for advice on how to sell art commissions, so I thought it would be nice to compile a list for others aspiring to do so, as well as to remind myself of some important things to keep in mind.

1. Have one tumblr blog strictly for art. People will follow it specifically because they like your art, and it will be easy for them to find your artwork without having to scroll through a jumble of other stuff.

2. Draw and post just about every day! Most people will say to draw every single day, but please let yourself rest. You will end up being miserable if you force yourself to draw when you aren’t feeling well. The more you draw, the more your art will improve, and the more followers you will naturally accumulate over time.

3. Post fan art to bring in fans. You don’t have to strictly draw fan art, of course. But people are more likely to interact if they’re familiar with the character already. A lot of people will follow you for fan art initially, and some of them will grow to love your original art as well.

4. Develop your own unique style. This will occur naturally over time. Learn from artists you love, and over time, your art will evolve into a mix of art styles you like into something uniquely yours!

5. It takes time to find supporters who are willing to spend money on your art. Building an art business is a slow process, and it takes patience and perseverance. Only a small percentage of social media followers will pay for commissions or Patreon support, but those few are precious.

6. Use every platform and website you can to share your art and have links between platforms, so your fans can find you in multiple places. Examples of places to share your art are social media sites like Twitter, Instagram, BlueSky, and Pillowfort, as well as art sites like Cara and Pixiv.

7. Get a Patreon and Ko-Fi account and be sure to provide links to these means of financial support on your art posts (especially the art pieces you’re proud of).

8. Make use of as many means of making money with art as you can. Sell prints on inprnt, sell stickers on Redbubble. Youtube videos can eventually give you ad revenue. If you make comics, Tapas is another option to make a little bit of ad revenue. You can use Etsy to sell originals, prints, or even commissions! Some people may feel more comfortable buying commissions through an official store like Etsy rather than on social media, so it’s good to have that as a back-up in addition to selling through other sites.

9. Use a secure payment method that you’re comfortable with! I recommend using PayPal with invoices, so that you have proof of their purchase in case anything goes wrong. A lot of artists use Ko-Fi as well.

10. Post your commission guidelines on all the sites where you post your art! Don’t be afraid to reblog/repost your commission price list multiple times!

11. Art commissions are not a steady job. You might get nonstop commissions for a couple months and then not get any for a few months. There are some times of year when people are less willing to spend money. I’ve noticed this happening towards the end of the year. At times when you aren’t getting commissions, I recommend doing a limited time sale!

12. Price yourself appropriately for the amount of effort it takes for you to get the work done! Don’t overprice or underprice! Ask your friends for advice on what you should charge. You’ll probably want to start low and slowly increase your prices as your work gets higher demand.

13. Make your commission price list legible! Check out other people’s sheets for guidance!

14. Have patience and perseverance! It may take years after you start posting before you get a commission, but the more you put yourself out there, the more you’ll get noticed!

15. Draw what you enjoy! Maybe cater to your audience once in a while, but your own happiness is important to give yourself the drive to keep on going!

16. Don’t be afraid to reblog your own art at various times of day, for maximum visibility! Not all of your followers will be online at the time that you initially posted it.

@artist-kreating-stuff

[deeversuswords]

‧˚₊ Truth Exposer 1: Uncovered — Ch.2

PAIRING — Pro Hero Bakugou Katsuki/Vigilante F!Reader RATING — Explicit CONTAINS — heavy angst, enemies to lovers (sort of), mutual pining, slow burn, eventual smut, moral ambiguity, cheating (not between katsuki/reader), unhealthy relationships, unhealthy coping mechanisms, grief/mourning, dark themes (past abuse, stalking, kidnapping, torture, quirk trafficking), violence, swearing, open but hopeful ending, dual pov (mostly reader), no use of y/n ◆ married bakugou katsuki—not to reader—and has a daughter too ◆ characters are in their late 20s SUMMARY — Running away would be the sensible thing to do. Getting as far away as possible from him, the one person who’s your ticket to losing your freedom. Not searching for him out of stupid curiosity and showing up at the last place you should: his house. They say curiosity killed the cat, but yours seems to always end up as the key unlocking doors that should probably stay locked. Because when you open the door to Bakugou Katsuki’s life, it’s not a loving marriage, not a happy family of three you find, but falsity, forced duty, and a dark secret that threatens his very own life. Bakugou Katsuki, the pro hero tasked with catching you and your downfall. And you, the vigilante exposing ugly truths for a living—his salvation.

➥AO3 LINK // ➥AO3 CHAPTER LINK // ➥TUMBLR CHAPTERS LIST

CHAPTER WARNINGS — choking

WORD COUNT — ~3.9k

a/n: it feels weird to post chapter 2 when yesterday I finished rewriting the last one XD. my brain is a mess.

What was going on with Bakugou?

The question haunted you for weeks, day and night, gnawing at the rational side of your brain. Partially, it was Bakugou’s fault. A representative of his PR team came forward to announce a sudden, temporary break from hero work one day after you had the wonderful opportunity of meeting him. However, no date of return was provided.

Temporary? More like indefinite hiatus.

Ever since, he hadn’t been spotted once, which left you vibrating with stress. You waited for your front door to be blasted to smithereens, either by him or some other pro hero, and be arrested. Irrational, really. Thanks to your best friend and the obsessive attention you put into your disguises, your work left no traces.

Still, restlessness defined your default mood, and maybe there was a tiny part of you worrying that added to it. You hated admitting it, but your subconscious pinged your instinct with impulses of something being wrong.

That was why you were out and about at an ungodly hour; curiosity had a way of turning you stupid like that.

Sweat slid down your back under the fitted long-sleeved black top you wore as you shook the dead phone in your hand under the flickering streetlights of Bakugou’s neighborhood in the wee hours of the night. Your stupidity apparently extended to basic things like charging your phone, and now you stood, looking every bit suspicious, racking your brain for the directions the GPS displayed before the screen blinked out.

If his intention when he had bought a house in this labyrinth was to piss off the potential villains who might’ve a bone to pick with him and force them to give up out of sheer frustration, then mission successful. Why you were still trying was unexplainable. Stubbornness, perhaps. One hell of a driver.

Pocketing your deceased phone, you scanned the vicinity again for any sign of life other than yourself, the one cute cat dozing off on top of a stone fence two houses behind you, and the pesky mosquitoes buzzing annoyingly overhead.

Nothing. No one. Completely empty.

You tugged on your cap and strutted forward, sending thoughts, prayers, and hopes to the celestial objects illuminating the rooftops that you were on the right path.

Eternity passed before you finally, finally found his house. Luckily for you, his show-off tendencies bled into everything. The sophisticated metal plaque, engraved with his family name, caught the moonlight like polished obsidian, therefore, your attention.

To your surprise, his house looked…normal. A two-story, medium-sized modern property in shades of gray, with black accents that you assumed were also metal from the way light glinted off them. Surrounded by a tall concrete fence that looked like granite, and a solid gate as the entrance. Gate that was ajar.

As you inspected the rest of the exterior for the security system, your stomach sank deeper with the same dreadful feeling you couldn’t shake off. The camera above the intercom was off. You knew it the same way you knew air consisted of more than just oxygen. Bakugou wasn’t this careless, was he? He’d double—no, triple-check the security, even if his wife had probably already done it. Right?

Your instinct itched with the urge to say ‘fuck it’ and rush in, but you suppressed it. Maybe this was just a coincidence. A malfunction of sorts. Verify, then act.

Crouching with your head low, you peeked through the gap in the gate. His car was in the driveway, parked diagonally as if the space wasn’t meant for two vehicles; no sign of his wife’s. You made a face at it. His fans called it aesthetic, and you agreed about the black matte paint, but what the hell were those bright orange crisscrossed tire rims? Were they supposed to create some fiery trail effect he’d never get to flaunt because one, he couldn’t tear through the city streets like a maniac, and two, on the highway, people were too busy stepping on the gas to care about a sports car speeding past them?

You rolled your eyes. At least his car being here confirmed he was home.

You scanned the quietness one last time and sneaked in, working with the blind angle of the street camera. As you closed the gate carefully, you took in the trimmed shrubbery, the well-kept grass, and the dusty stone path leading to the front door. Only for your eyes to narrow on the digital lock.

“Unlocked?” you muttered under your breath. This was becoming stranger by the second.

A shiver skated down your spine, tensing your body. Your gaze snapped to the second floor, searching for any sign of another presence that didn’t belong here, pulse quickening and caution fading into an afterthought.

Oh, fuck it. If you got caught, you’d figure out some story. In you went.

And out you wished to go. Your hand flew to your nose and pinched your nostrils to stop your stomach from flipping sideways. The stench reminded you of the dumpster in that alleyway. Was this a home or a pigsty?

Pigsty. Definitely a pigsty.

Blurry moonlight poured into the messy living room, cluttered with toys, takeout containers, haphazardly tossed couch pillows, and spills from who knew what. You steeled yourself for what you were about to do. Nausea swirled in your stomach like clothes in a washing machine as you inhaled the foul air, focusing on each distinct aroma. The relieved breath you exhaled when you detected not even the faintest trace of iron relaxed your whole body.

You didn’t dare look at the kitchen opposite the living room and prowled further toward the staircase, careful to keep your steps light and quiet. Your impulse should’ve been to turn around and get as far away as possible from this place, not delve deeper into the home of a pro hero who was out for your head.

If Yu knew, he’d be having a meltdown, you told the void in your head, shuddering at the imagined sound of your best friend grilling you for being reckless and stupid. Yes, you were a grade one idiot tonight. But he’d be proud to know you left your belongings at home, and your pockets held your motorcycle key and your discharged phone.

No. He wouldn’t be. Ayumu would buy you a ticket for the next rocket and shoot you into space himself so he wouldn’t have to see your pathetic, down-by-your-own-hand end.

Gentle light greeted you at the top of the stairs, inviting you through the open door at the end of the narrow hallway, yet driving your heart into your throat. Faster and faster it thumped as you approached the room. You pressed your back against the cool wall and peeked inside, blinking in disbelief at the state of it. Like the living room, this space—clearly belonging to Bakugou’s daughter, with its peach-colored walls and scattered small dresses over the plush carpet—was a mess too.

What the hell happened?

You didn’t try to answer that. Instead, you craned your neck for a better look, spotting both who you were looking for and who you weren’t. Bakugou leaned against the white crib, his head drooped to the side, eyes closed. Light snores escaped his slightly parted lips. Meanwhile, his daughter, Yua, was very much awake, tugging at the minty hair of a doll, her face scrunched in concentration.

For whatever reason, a sense of relief, stronger than the earlier one, washed over you.

He was okay, so was she. They both were.

Now that you confirmed that, it was time to go, but you found yourself rooted to the spot. Your eyes wandered to her, absorbing how she was the spitting image of him. As if sensing your presence, Yua tilted her head toward you, her blonde wavy hair cascading over her tiny shoulders, ruby red eyes locking onto yours.

You gasped at being caught. She let out a curious sound, and before you knew it, Yua crawled out of her dad’s lap, away from the safety of his arms, and stumbled toward you. Your muscles went rigid as your lungs expelled the rest of your air, leaving you fixated on the small person determined to interact with you, the intruder.

“Pretty,” she babbled, a bright smile blooming on her face. Tiny fingers latched onto your pants and tugged weakly.

Time stopped. You had no idea why. Her twinkling gaze seemed to trap you in the moment, mesmerize you.

Something in her innocent curiosity awakened something new within you. This feeling wasn’t one you’d experienced before, but felt oddly natural. Following that instinct, you knelt and offered her one of your rare, sincere smiles, hoping your intrusive presence didn’t register as danger to her. You didn’t want to scare her, or worse, traumatize her in any way.

In response, hers widened into a toothy grin, despite a few of her teeth weren’t fully grown yet.

She made an eager grab at you, losing her balance, and you instantly reached out, catching her in your arms. Before you could admonish yourself, a sleepy groan drew your attention.

Bakugou’s eyes slowly opened. “Huh? Yu…a?” They grew wide at the sight of you.

It all happened so fast.

He sprang from the floor at the same moment you tried to, slowed down by your prudence to not hurt Yua. Two steps out of the room were all you managed before he tackled you to the floor. Your shoulder took the brunt of the impact, forcing a pained groan from your mouth, which quickly turned into a choking sound as his hand wrapped around your throat in a vicious grip, while the other ripped your cap away.

“You? What the fuck are you doin’ in my house?” His tone dripped with pure acid.

“Ba—” Panic clawed up your throat. His strong thighs pinned your arms against your body, and you squirmed, gasping for air. “C-can’t…brea…the.”

His fingers squeezed your airway harder. Tears pricked your eyes, and for the first time in ages, you tasted the metallic flavor of fear. The violent storm in that fascinating gaze swallowed every flicker of clarity. This wasn’t Bakugou Katsuki—layered, human. This was something else. Primal. Feral. Rabid.

The ferocity choking you stirred your own.

“You want to kill me?” you rasped, voice barely recognizable. “G-go on, hero. Try.” A snarl tore from your throat as you bucked hard, hips straining to throw him off.

His fingers twitched. Yours too, but you dug your nails into the carpet, fighting to hold back your quirk. You didn’t trust your brain not to retaliate in a desperate bid to survive. But you trusted his would snap the fuck out.

“If you’re going t-to—” You wheezed, struggling under his steely strength. Fucking mountain didn’t budge an inch. “Do…it. Do it, you unhinged bastard!”

Between your fight for breath and the defiant taunt you threw him, something seemed to fracture his wild state. Bakugou gasped out a ‘fuck’ and ripped his hand from your throat, slamming it beside your head as his body hunched over yours, heaving.

You broke into a violent coughing fit, clutching your throat, pain pulsing like a thousand stabbing needles. That’d leave a bruise. Great. Fucking perfect. Bakugou’s handprint for a necklace, like a twisted wish coming true. Just your luck.

“Oi. You go—”

“Pa…pa?”

Yua’s confused voice froze you both. He paled, and you saw the exact moment it hit him what he’d be staring at if he hadn’t stopped—a corpse. Your corpse. Soul gone. Forever. And his daughter would’ve been the witness.

“I—Shit. Stay right there, Yua,” he snapped, his tone whipping at the lethal tension. His eyes were bloodshot from lack of sleep, you noticed, as they frantically searched your own. What now? they seemed to silently ask.

Did he seriously expect a kid that full of curiosity to actually listen?

Lucky him, you were the one he nearly ended with his bare hands. He’d have a fun time if it were someone else.

Biting back a wince, you croaked. “Nothing h-happened here. Absolutely…nothing. Understood?” You shot him a glare, pretending you weren’t one breath away from another coughing fit. “Now, get—get off.”

Your words moved him like a puppeteer’s string. Bakugou wobbled to his feet, but not before grabbing your waist and hauling you up with him. Body to body, you felt him tremble from the shock, his heart doing worrisome things in his chest. It raced too fast, agitating your own.

“You good? Let me—”

You slapped his hand away and grimaced. “When was the last time you showered? I might’ve survived that, but I’m not surviving this. You stink.”

If your nose hairs didn’t shrivel and fall off by the end of this, it’d be a miracle.

*

After nearly getting killed, anyone else’s brain would’ve reset to a smarter mode—look for a way out, not a reason to stay. But you had questions, and Bakugou had the answers. Which he vehemently refused to give…until you flashed a sweet smile and suggested he give you the deepest bow and apologize for choking the soul out of you.

One thing led to another, and next thing you knew, you were handing him your bike key and dead phone as leverage that you meant no harm. You learned fast that his version of trust your enemy involved handcuffing said enemy and keeping them as close as possible.

Enemies might not have been the only ones he’d cuffed before, though, judging by the red, feathery lining on the leather binding your wrists to the metal bar above the blurry shower glass wall.

No surprise, the bastard was into infernal showers, but he could’ve dialed it down a bit. The air boiled, making you sweat through every fiber of your clothes, while your lungs burned through your energy resources to keep you breathing. You were positively trapped and suffocating, but at least his shampoo smelled good. Something citric.

Your forehead fell against the shower glass, eyes squeezing shut, as you desperately tried to erase the outline of his naked body from your brain. He was driving you places he shouldn’t, and as much as you liked your denial, your body didn’t care for it.

“Can you hurry up?” you shouted over the loud water stream. “If your wife shows up and finds us like this, we’re both screwed.”

“Huh?!” he yelled back. "The hell you tryin' to talk to me for? Told you to zip it!"

“If you think I want to talk with a butt naked guy with obvious anger issues, you’re delusional. But I have no choice. My face plastered next to yours is a big no-no in my book.”

The shower door was yanked open, almost flying off its hinges. Bakugou’s head peeked out, and you shot him an unimpressed look, even as your mind took notes on his hair—matted on top, dripping with the fattest globs of water. It must have been thick. 

You wanted to smack yourself when an image of something else that could fit that description surfaced in your mind.

“Oxygen reachin’ your brain? Got proof you broke in.”

You didn’t think his wife would care about that when her husband was naked, showering like it was no one’s business, with the intruder handcuffed, getting a splendid view of things meant for her eyes only.

“Not sorry to ruin it for you, but your security system is off.”

“You turned the security off?! Got a death wish or something?”

“No to the first, maybe to the second. Are you going to grant it, naked genie?”

His snarl filled the steamy air, and you couldn’t tell if you were still in a bathroom or a cave inhabited by a feral animal. He slammed the glass door shut, growled some more, and then cursed when the bottle he picked up fell from his hand.

You laughed. That bottle might as well have been his brain packing up and leaving his skull.

“Shut it, pain in my ass!” he barked, and a foamy loofah sailed over your head, splatting somewhere behind you.

“What are you, five?” Your face twisted into disgust as dying bubbles slid down your temple. Of course, in its flight, it dripped on you. Why would you be spared?

“That’s still older than you.”

“No wonder you’re dropping in the rankings regularly,” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “Petty brat.”

His reaction was as explosive as his general attitude. He turned off the water and swung open the door, stepping out. “Wanna say that to my damn face?”

Water dripped everywhere, and your eyes widened comically at his naked form. Your eyes screwed shut. For someone strict with his private life, he sure was shameless with a stranger.

“Hah, goin’ shy on me?” he mocked.

“Put some clothes on! This is inappropriate!”

“Yeah?” You felt him move closer, forcing you back up as much as the handcuffs allowed. “You were eyein’ my ass earlier. How’s that appropriate?”

“I wasn’t—” Your eyes snapped open, instantly regretting it. “Eyeing your…ass.”

One arm braced against the shower wall, Bakugou stared at you, something hotter than the current room temperature burning in his glare. He was too close. So close, your instinct was to step back, yet you couldn’t focus on anything other than the glistening water drops trailing down his neck, over his pulse, lower to his chest. They dissolved against the scar.

The scar…

Bakugou Katsuki is dead? That can’t be. It’s not true, right?

The voice of a younger you echoed in your head before a fragment of the memory rolled through. You, latched onto the pro hero’s arm, stopping him from doing his job. At the time, it was to guide everyone further into the safety of U.A. Surprise and suspicion created deep lines on his expression as his hand slowly dropped from his earpiece.

“What are you doin’?” Bakugou asked as you moved closer, head tilted, listening. Thump, thump, thump. Faint to your sensitive ears, but unmistakably there.

His heartbeat.

He was alive.

“Oi!”

You jerked back. “What?”

“I asked you what the hell you doin’.”

One shoulder raised, you replied. “Debating if I should headbutt you or not. Maybe it’ll knock some sense into you. Who stands naked before a stranger?”

“Stranger, she says,” he scoffed, brushing past you. “That what you tell yourself to sleep at night?”

Your lips pressed together, a wisp of guilt taunting your heart. He had been the last thing you thought of. Or, at least, that had been the case before meeting him in flesh and bone. One time was enough to unintentionally make space for him in your everyday thoughts.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, feeling less brave, less bold, less everything.

“Checkin’ my ass again, pervert?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned, though there wasn’t much bite to it. “What’s there to check?” Still, your eyes betrayed you, gliding over the expanse of his muscled back and down to his clothed ass. “I’ve seen better.”

“Hah?!” Bakugou whipped around, clearly offended. His protests were mostly lost on you; the generous view of his V-line was far more captivating. He didn’t bother to pull his sweat shorts higher on his hips.

No, damn it.

Your moral compass had its faults, but lusting, even a little bit, over a married guy, especially this married guy, couldn’t be one of them. Appreciating his physique, strictly from an aesthetic perspective, was fine, but not the sinful ideas percolating your system.

“You listenin’ to me? Hey!” His fingers snapped in front of your face. “Pay attention before I leave you in here.”

“No, you won’t. How are you going to explain to your wife—”

“That bitch ain’t gonna show up,” he snapped. Your brows furrowed in confusion at the name-calling. His tongue clicked in irritation. “Don’t play dumb. You heard my phone conversation.”

“Oh. Yeah.” You paused, unsure of what to say.  “Uh…sorry to hear? Are you okay?”

His silence unnerved you as much as his intense attention on you. Reaching behind him for a tank top, the shameless bastard took his sweet time lowering the material over his ripped abs. By the time he was done, your heart pounded to a dizzying rhythm. You hated him for it, and the effect he had on your body.

“I’m keepin’ your shit,” he suddenly stated and moved to stand before you. His arm raised, so did your head to watch his fingers slip under the chain of the handcuffs. Smoke curled around them, then a sudden pop rang in the misty air. “Tomorrow. Nine p.m. Your ass better be at my front door.”

“No. Why would—What are you doing?!”

He hoisted you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and strode out of the bathroom. You were about to smack his back when he forced you into silent submission with only a few words.

“About earlier. There ain’t an excuse for what I’ve done,” he said. “Don’t forgive me.”

His remorse, a blade stabbing your heart, sharp tip lodged in a spot long buried beneath a pile of impossibilities and secrets. It cracked. Spilling pieces of what you had buried into the present, feeding the cruelty of reality.

“I broke in. You reacted. That makes us even,” you said, propping yourself up on one elbow to glare at the top of his head. “I don’t want to see you again. So give me back my stuff.”

Silence.

Bakugou swung the front door open and dropped you to your feet, shoving you outside. The door slammed shut in your face.

“You’re kidding. Bakugou!” Your fist slammed the metal surface. Once. Twice. Anger surged through your veins, a scream clawing its way up your throat, but the risk of waking the neighborhood forced it back down. “Open the damn door and give me back my stuff!” You jiggled the doorknob. “I know you’re there. I can sense you.”

Something slammed against the other side, hard enough to rattle the door frame.

“No. Piss off.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you give it back.”

“Couldn’t care less. Stay and see what happens. Cameras are back on. Know what that means?” A pause. “I’ve got proof of your pestering.”

“God, you’re such an annoying, stubborn fucking jerk,” you whined, frustrated beyond belief with his attitude. “What are you going to do? Call the police?”

“Wanna try me? Huh?!”

Growling, you struck the door again. “Go ahead! I’ll spin one hell of a story. Like how I’m your mistress. I’ve got proof, too—these stupid handcuffs your goofy brain forgot to take off. Bet they’ll have a field day spreading gossip about our scandalous, kinky affair.”

“Like I give a fuck.” His voice grew more distant. “Tell ‘em the reason you’re now hysterical at my door while you’re at it. Dick’s so good you can’t take rejection.”

You choked on your spit and sputtered. The audacity. “D-dick? What dick? Yours? Where?” When no retort came, you pressed your ear to the door and listened, hearing nothing. “Did he seriously leave me here?”

Several minutes later, you realized that yes, he absolutely did. Bakugou dumped and ditched you in front of his house, leaving you with nothing but the option to walk away and the cursed knowledge that you’d have to come back tomorrow.

Was this the price for your stupidity? Forced to see his smug face and breathe the same air again?

What was it they said? Third time was the charm?

You buried your head in your hands and let out a muffled, pitiful scream.

Screw your luck.

[blamebrampton]

Books talk to each other. Mostly because practically every writer is also a voracious reader, but also because books arise out of times and places and we share a lot of our worlds these days. So it’s unsurprising that several novels I have hugely enjoyed over the past few years share the theme of the antiheroine who is past all giving of the fucks. Naomi Novik’s powerful dark sorceress kept on her own tight leash in the Scholomance books was a joy to follow; Xiran Jay Zhao’s Iron Widow slashed her way into my heart and now Sarah Rees Brennan’s Long Live Evil has added to a list of beloved antiheroines that probably started for me with Becky Sharp in Vanity Fair.

Coincidentally, when considering how to describe Long Live Evil without significant spoilers, I realised that it shared several major themes with Vanity Fair. Young woman unfairly treated by fate decides to embrace her slut era to survive a war zone – both very accurate and wildly inaccurate for both. LLE opens with main character Rae in a hospital bed, teasing her sister about a book series they both adore. Rae is taking refuge in the story they have shared over years because it is one of the few things they have left: she is losing her fight against cancer and has been losing parts of her life, family and memory as that fight has progressed.

My personal hospital experiences have all been to do with major traumas rather than illness, which I vastly prefer because if you don’t die in the first couple of days, you usually start mending and you can immediately make plans to make the best of whatever you’ve broken. Rees Brennan, however, famously wrote a very funny, very horrible, ‘Kids, you won’t believe what shenanigans your girl’s been up to now, it’s only stage four Hodgkins lymphoma!’ post on her Tumblr or LJ (someone who has been hit in the head with taxis fewer times than me will doubtless factcheck that in the notes) about seven or eight years ago and then faced the very serious business of trying to live. The hospital scenes are painfully authentic, as are the stories of people who have left Rae as she slipped further out of everyday life.

For Rees Brennan, a loving family and peer group were there to hold her as close as they could. For Rae, only her beloved little sister, Alice, and Time of Iron, their favourite fantasy series, remain. They read the books together, remember adventures cosplaying and watching the musical, they wonder about the final instalment; for Rae it’s a joy she can still share (even if she doesn’t remember as much as she should), for Alice, it’s her two greatest loves. When a strange woman offers a door into the world of the book and a possible magical cure to Rae, she wants it as much as she disbelieves it.

Stepping into Eyam, the land of Time of Iron, Rae finds herself in the body of a villain doomed to die the next day. No worries! She’s thought and fought her way out of worse scraps than this in her past as a head cheerleader, let alone while battling cancer. She can use her knowledge of the plot to change things! If only she remembered more of the books…

Portal fantasies are common enough, but not all play by the same rules. This isn’t Narnia, where the magical world is more real than our own, for Rae, the world of the book is nothing more a tool to get her hands on the cure. She doesn’t need to care about any of these people, they’re not real. Most of them speak in a formal language that relies on the conventions of fantasy literature (there is an ongoing, warm-hearted skewering of all Game of Thrones-esque texts running through both the story and the in-text ‘quotes’ from Time of Iron) and half the characters are known more by their descriptions rather than their names. So she will play the Beauty Dipped in Blood, with her questionable morals, impractical clothes and centre-of-balance-distorting boobs for the weeks that will pass until the cure is available. Whoever she has to shuffle in the plot to secure a place beside that cure, she will shuffle. While she’s not out to kill anyone, it’s not as though they were ever really alive. Not like her. If she has to be the villain to survive, she will be an impeccable one. The people will cheer evil on!

Obviously, little goes to plan. Rae’s illness has taught her cruelty, but she hasn’t forgotten what it is to be kind. Even as she manipulates her role into ongoing main character, she realises that’s not how anyone gets a happy ending. That’s not how she can live with herself. As she comes to think of the other people in the story as real, they become more so, both in how we read them and in how they impact the story. Rae remembers what it is like to make friends, which she never meant to, but, oh, the luxury after years of watching people slip away!

As in previous novel In Other Lands, Rees Brennan has a long list of fantasy tropes to embrace and undermine, and her deft touch with humour is as evident as ever here, but her publishers call this her first adult novel and there is a shift in tone from her previous works. Anger is more real and lasting. Consequences are more significant. Understanding is reached for, even if it’s bitter. One of my favourite things is that she lets her female characters rage, but never judges those who can’t, whether because they’re too powerless or just too tired, and her male characters are allowed to be people if they choose to be — which all but the most vainglorious do.

I hadn’t paid much attention beyond checking the release date for the book, so didn’t realise it was the first in a series. For me, it worked perfectly as a standalone novel, even with the unended threads, which would have perfectly balanced Rae’s unfinished life. That said, I am very happy to know we will spend more time with these characters in the future. I want more. I do want to know if there is a hope for Rae, if this is the fever dream of a fading life, if this is the story Alice has told to ease her sister from the world or something else. There are a dozen characters I hope for, at least three happy endings that would bring joy. But don’t wait for the next books: sink your teeth into this one and believe what it says about the importance of listening to stories rather than just falling in love with characters. Though if you find yourself cheering on Rae, or her servant Emer, the elusive Eric, Horrible Hortensia or almost any of the others, I am the last person who will judge you.

[necrotic-nephilim]

@sasheneskywalker i love when you enable me to ramble about things because oh my god do i have thoughts.

so recently, i made a post discussing the phenomena of DC x DP and DC x MLB crossovers and why they exist and part of that post was discussing how largely speaking, at least half, if not more of the Batfamily fandom doesn't read the comics. if they interact with canon DC material, it's adaptations that are their own sequestered universes and oftentimes not remotely comic accurate or seeking to be. the most obvious example is the Young Justice cartoon. i'm adding a cut to this post because it just got so long i'm so sorry.

a lot of times, when people are discussing the "why" of this oversaturation of fanon-only fandom, they blame Wayne Family Adventures. and i think, to a point, i agree WFA is responsible for a boom in this fandom. but as someone who's been in the fandom long before we had WFA, to me it's the other way around. WFA was DC's way of meeting the demand for this easy-to-get-into, easy-to-consume content about the Batfamily that predicates itself on the comics just enough to be vaguely the same characters, but has a more sitcom, slice-of-life sort of vibe so DC could profit off of this section of the fanbase that otherwise wasn't consuming its primary material. and well, it's definitely worked. not only that, but i have a weird theory that the decline in the MCU also led to the rise in the Batfamily fandom. when you consider the fan content that made the MCU popular within fandom, it's that 2012 "they all live in Avengers Tower and Thor is eating poptarts and Clint is in the vents and there are movie nights every Friday" sort of vibe. those were the fics that were a hallmark of the fandom. and as the MCU has strayed from well... quality content in general, but specifically well-thought-out crossover content where characters can have their own arcs but also exist in a wider story where they clearly care about each other, that fandom was sort of homeless. so where do you go, if you like a superhero found family where you can have villains for angst but also stick them all in one big family-like home for silly crack and have a plethora of options for gay ships? well. you go to the Batfamily. if you write a crack/fluff Batfamily genfic with silly vibes and low stakes instead of say, a fic about a very specific comic issue even if it's a popular comic, you're *going* to get more traction for the former. because the fanbase largely just isn't reading the comics.

and i feel... complicated about this. because on one hand, Don't Like Don't Read has been a tenet of my fandom experience. i'm very pro-fandom and that includes fandom content i don't like. and to an extent, i do think this sort of should apply to Batfamily fanon. i enjoy having my moments with other comic purists, giggling over exceptionally painful OOC headcanons or even facepalming in pain over some content but it is on me to not interact with that content. you don't make fandom a better place by being hostile to fans who engage with canon in ways you don't approve of. and frankly? we as comic readers are not going to get non-comic fans to read the comics by being asshats to them. no one is going to want to pick up any comic if we get a superiority complex about it. and also, i feel like we're all lying to ourselves a little bit insisting comics are so, so easy to get into. they're not. we can just all agree, they're really not. i've been single-handedly helping my sister get into comics, specifically Wonder Woman and no matter how simple i make it, i watch her get frustrated trying to understand what pre-Crisis and post-Crisis and New-52 and Flashpoint and all these things mean and what a retcon vs a reboot is and what a Crisis Event is and what the hell Diana's current backstory even *is*. sure, you can give someone a beginner list of comics to start with and slowly dip their toes in the water but sooner or later, *something* is going to confuse them. comics as a medium straight up aren't going to be everyone's cup of tea. and if someone *just* wants to read silly fluffy fanfiction about the Batfamily, i can't entirely begrudge them for not wanting to take the hours and hours out of their day to understand this medium. it's not an accessible medium to get into. "read this and this, but this run is out of print and this run wasn't collected in trades at all but also make sure you read that event in order and this is a good comic but the backstory in it is retconned and you *have* to read this it's so important but it's also really bad because the author kind of sucks" sounds. ridiculous for someone who like. just wants to read some stuff about Nightwing. sometimes, we all make reading comics sort of sound like a chore, not a hobby.

so my point is, i do extend some grace to Batfamily fanon for existing. i think my biggest gripe is, as i said in my other post, misuse of tags (if you're not creating content about comics, maybe you don't need the comics fandom tag on Ao3, just the all media types umbrella tag) and my far bigger gripe: when panels are taken out of context to support fanon only headcanons. if i could impart *anything* onto the Batfamily fandom as a comic fan it'd be this: if you haven't *read* the comic, don't spread the panel. if you don't even know what comic it's *from*, don't spread the panel. it's fine to use comic panels to discuss your headcanons, but so often i see someone spreading a comic panel from a comic they haven't read, and when asked where it's from, they can't source it. a silly example that comes to mind is a post going around, taking a panel where Dick, in his internal monologue goes "here comes the sun. do do do do." and the post is claiming it's from him getting buried alive. when that panel comes from Nightwing (1996) #140, and he gets buried alive in Nightwing (1996) #127, two completely different moments frankensteined together. if you're going to not read the comics, that's completely fine, but unless you're sure of the source and the context, panels shouldn't be spread around. i'm sick of this specifically happening to Red Robin (2009), with ppl claiming Tim has totally killed people because he blew up some of Ra's' bases, when those panels within context, make it clear he gave everyone time to escape. and in a later arc in that very comic, Tim grapples with the idea of murdering Captain Boomerang, and *specifically chooses not to*, because he doesn't agree with murder, even against the person who has hurt him the most. if you'd like to write fanfiction where Tim is pro-murder and has done some sketch things, i'm totally on board and would probably like to read it. but there's no need to pretend it's canon from a few panels you saw out of context.

beyond that, i think it's not *entirely* correct to say that fanon is harmless. whenever i see very WFA-positive posts, they often default to the argument that WFA is fun and silly, and comic fans are killjoys for not liking it. which. i think is complicated because the issue is, WFA and fanon don't exist in a vacuum. if you like WFA power to you, i don't think it's the worst thing ever, but i do think it's degrading to these characters because honestly? they feel incompetent in the webtoon. it's one thing if WFA was solely a slice-of-life sort of deal, just having silly episodes where Bruce is taking on a PTA mom or they're all fighting for the last cookie. but when WFA attempts to take on more serious plots with these characters, it *fundamentally* falls flat in understanding them. i get it, Bruce comforting Jason having a panic attack because a noise reminded him of the crowbar felt cute in a microcosm, but i'm so serious when i say that storyline destroyed how like. half of this fandom understands Jason Todd's relationship to his trauma. it doesn't understand how he reacts when he's triggered, what coping mechanisms he seeks out, and how he would handle Bruce comforting him. even if i can believe for a brief moment Jason *would* be triggered by something like that, him running and trying to hide and then getting a hug from Bruce to make it okay is just. painful. WFA needs everything to be wrapped up in a nice, neat little bow. so even when it starts to tackle interesting concepts, it makes them fall flat with its need to be soft, low stakes, hurt/comfort. there was a two-parter episode that dealt with the complicated mutual hatred/jealousy between Tim and Damian that *almost* really interested me because for once, it felt like the webtoon wanted to explore canon messy dynamics. but of course, it had to be fixed with one conversation and a hug. you don't mend the *years* of issues these characters have like that. WFA isn't in character because these characters are hyperbole cartoonified versions of themselves to fit within the medium and be a cute happy family.

because that right there, is the crux of it. the Batfamily fanon seeks to simplify the Batfamily and force them into a nuclear family. there are so many fantastic posts on here discussing how the nuclear family-ification of the Batfam is eroding decades worth of complex histories so i won't go too far into that. but what i will say is that there's this need, in the Batfamily fandom, for the Batfamily to exist as a unit. they are a *family*. (honestly i think calling it the Batfamily is a misnomer and has been for years but we're in too deep now.) they exist to each other first, and any teams or friends they have come secondary to this family unit. you can *specifically* see this demonstrated in what headcanons are becoming popular these days. i have an entire lengthy meta in my drafts about how i *loathe* the "the Batfamily meets the Justice League" genre of fanfic because it makes no *sense*. in order to have this genre of fic exist, you must operate under the assumption that no one in the League, or adjacent to the League, knows the Batfamily exists and are thus utterly shocked to discover Batman has kids. and to make *that* work, you have to strip *every single Batfamily member* of such important dynamics and friendships so you can lock them all in Gotham for their whole lives. Dick can't have the Titans, Tim can't have Young Justice, Duke & Cass can't have the Outsiders, Jason can't have the Outlaws, Damian can't have the Supersons, Babs can't have the Birds of Prey, and so on. because if they had these relationships, they would be known to the League. the Batfamily fandom doesn't care about this, it's just "silly fanfiction", it's not trying to be serious. but how can you say you like Dick Grayson as a character if you don't understand the Titans *are* his family? at some points of his life, moreso than the Batfamily even is. it is constantly repeated to us in most comics with Dick how much the Titans mean to him. he *needs* them to be who he is. the same extends to every other Batfamily member, most of which have been full League members at this point. but in fanon, that doesn't matter. the Batfamily are a sequestered unit first, and all of those side relationships are secondary and easy to toss away, if it makes your fanfic work better.

and because they have to be a unit first, you have these forced relationships that dump years of actual canon material for the sake of making them get along. the Batfamily fandom has its favorites and well. it's no secret it's usually the boys. Jason and Tim by *far* stand out as fandom faves so, their dynamic is a heavily explored one. it does matter that in canon they don't tend to get along and especially don't see each other as family. what matters is that you can push dynamics onto them. and so fanon gets all twisted up about which Robin Tim actually idolized as a kid (Dick) and what member of the Batfamily is pro-murder but still an older sibling figure to him and looks out for him (Helena, or if you want the dynamic of once tried to harm Tim but they've reconciled, Jean-Paul) in favor of who's the most popular. Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian are always going to be the standouts for popularity, but it's specifically Jason and Tim who are getting fanonized the most. and that's because really, we don't have much canon content of Tim that *isn't* the comics. for Dick you've got Young Justice (tv), for Damian you've got the DCAMU, for Jason you've sort of got the Under The Red Hood movie, but Tim sort of lingers in this limbo. (yes, he's in Young Justce (tv) and Titans (live action) but in neither is he the main character nor given much depth) so, he gets a *lot* projected onto him and has become fanonized. and even with Jason's animated movies, you don't see him interact with Tim, so people build it from the ground up how they want to see it, disregarding of canon comics. i think it's what makes him so popular in the first place- he's malleable into whatever you want or need him to be.

and of course, the fanon ignores other characters in the Batfamily it doesn't know about. i feel like you could create a tier list of Batfamily characters by their popularity, going from the fandom main characters: Tim, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Damian. to the underrated: Steph, Duke, Babs, Cass. to the forgotten about unless they're convenient for a story: Kate, the Foxes, Helena Wayne, Carrie, Selina, Harper Row, Maps, Minhkhoa Khan. to the absolutely unknown: Helena Bertinelli, Jean-Paul Valley, Onyx Adams, the Clovers, Julia Pennyworth. it's not lost on me that the ignored characters tend to be women and people of color. which is both a canon and fanon problem, DC will continue adding interesting characters to the Batfamily, play with them for a few years, then drop them to default to the "Batboys" again. and it's a vicious cycle of the fandom only caring about the "Batboys", and thus people entering the fandom via fanon osmosis won't have content about the other characters, therefore, they won't be interested in those characters enough to create it, and it's just this ouroboros consuming itself, no matter how much canon content we have of these other characters. and it's ridiculous just how large the Batfamily is becoming because of this, which is why i'm a pre-Flashpoint fan, because then the Batfamily was contained enough to actually feel like a family with every character having nuances relationships with each other, but i digress because those thoughts could be their own post.

and the thing about fanon is it doesn't exist in a vacuum. DC has started turning the comics to accommodate for what fans are asking for, because fans will beg and beg for content they're not going to consume. Tim Drake: Robin had Tim as a coffee drinker because that's the fanon accepted headcanon. and the resolution of the recent Gotham War arc was for Bruce to buy this new manor for everyone to move in and call him. nevermind that most of these characters have their own homes and have zero reason to be moving in with Bruce. Tim had his marina in Tim Drake: Robin, Dick has Bludhaven, Cass and Steph have their little side of town in Batgirls (2022), and so on. these characters are being forced together as a unit, as one big happy family living together, to appease what non-comic fans want and it's damaging comic relationships. Robin: Knight Terrors saw Jason and Tim team up and working together, which i've seen varying opinions on but i personally despised. their interactions made zero sense for any of their canon history, but it appeases them being this close sibling relationship that fanon acts like they are. also the fears they faced in their respective knight terrors didn't make sense for either character and *only* worked as a moment of bringing them together so they could reassure each other and have this weird dreamscape bonding moment. the canon is bending itself to the will of fanon rather than building on the pre-existing complex relationships. Tim barely even gets along with his most important team in Dark Crisis: Young Justice because it seems the only important relationships the Batfamily can have is with each other. and when we do see them outside of the Batfamily, it only seems to be to relive the glory days like with World's Finest: Teen Titans, instead of developing them as they currently exist. this isn't recent in the comics, it feels like you can trace it back to the New-52, but it does feel a *lot* worse over the recent years. WFA is fine when it exists in its own bubble, but the simple truth is, DC content never exists on its own. the adaptations will reflect back onto the comics. (the damage the Young Justice cartoon has done to some characters should honestly be studied) and so it does frustrate me a bit when fanon-only or adaptation-only fans act like we're being nothing but killjoys for being frustrated with this. since they don't read the comics, they don't see how the comics are suffering as a result of this.

people argue about what's out of character for the comics they don't even read. i'm sorry, but "bad dad Bruce" is consistently canon. that man is just kind of shitty. when you take someone who has the drive he has, who has this need for the Mission first, who needs a teenager in spandex next to him to keep him off the ledge, that guy is sort of going to be a shitty father figure. he just is. not on purpose or with malice, but when you compare him to any other dad in a big DC family, he sure takes the cake. it's why characters like Oliver Queen tend to *really* fucking hate Bruce for how he treats his kids. Bruce loves fiercely, but he doesn't do well with putting that love first. and his love is a controlling one, he is very particular about controlling how others in the Batfamily are "allowed" to operate. it's what drives the wedge between him and Dick, it's why Steph is never a true daughter to him. (besides the reason of her needing to be a love interest to Tim first, anyway-) i've never understood the massive outcry of people reacting to Bruce kinda being shitty in comics they're not reading. there are some moments that get ridiculously OOC with how cartoonishly evil he is (the whole Gotham War arc and that... complicated mess with Jason) but largely if you want sitcom loving nuclear father Bruce, you have to accept that is a fanon thing, not a canon one. the Batfamily being a nuclear family in *general* is fanon. most of the "Batkids" don't actually see Bruce in a particularly fatherly light and begging for moments where he calls them his kids or they call him dad outside of incredibly specific circumstances is just OOC.

it's getting harder and harder to exist peacefully in this fandom it feels like, if you don't comply to the standard fanon has set. i'm happy people are having fun with their blorbos, even if in ways i dislike, but that "harmless fandom fun" does ripple it's way back to canon, eventually. so i end up pretty tangled with my feelings because are fans at fault for DC making these poor decisions? probably not, but it certainly feels like an unfortunate cause-and-effect situation whether at the end of the day, nobody is happy. and of course, i know some fanon-only fans are striving to be more canon accurate and care about canon dynamics more than others, but for them it's always going to be an uphill battle with the above-mentioned out-of-context panels thrown around and ever-pervasive fanon overtaking anything that's truly seeking to be canon compliant. so really, it sometimes feels like we're all losing.

[gunsatthaphan]

.₊ ⟡ ݁ 🏆 2024 Top 10 🏆 ⟡ ݁₊ .

hello! I got tagged by a few people for various kinds of tier-list-posts for this year, so instead of making separate posts that will probably end up being repetitive, I decided to combine them all into one Top 10 list of my personal favorites in 2024. My watchlist was not very lengthy this year, partly because I was busy with work and partly because the quality of many shows was not to my liking. I started a bunch of things and dropped them shortly after, which also included more widely popular ones, for which I did not share the general public opinion. In the course of that, I have become more hesitant to share my thoughts online, as with every mildly critical POV came a number of anonymous people breathing down my neck. Which isn't new for me but by the end of the year I have gotten tired and was debating whether or not I should make this post but then I decided that this is my blog and idgaf about butthurt anons lol. I'm trying to carry this mindset into the new year.

So here is my Top 10 of BL/GLs that I have started and finished this year. A very special shoutout goes to The Heart Killers which owns my ass 100% and I totally would have added it but since we're only on ep6, I feel like it wouldn't be fair to include it in this list - also because I sort of consider it a category of its own lol.

I had no trouble picking this as my number one, simply because it's an outstanding production with an S-tier cast and a very powerful and well executed script. I've always loved Up but Poom took the cake for me in this, I was absolutely starstruck by him and his screen presence, he's a big surprise for me and has become one of my personal favorites this year in terms of acting. I could fill books with reasons why I love this show.

I had to include this even though it's not finished but I'm really blown away by it. The GLs I previously watched were okay but did not strike me quite as much as this one. I knew I would love Film and Namtan together from the moment they got paired as they're both insanely skilled and I was not disappointed. They understand the assignment 100% and so does Snap25 and it really shows. I'm obsessed.

Speaking of masterpieces, this is another one. It didn't get much attention sadly, mostly because TayNew did not deliver the dynamic the general BL population was hoping for. Their loss. This is an amazing production from start to finish, the 4 of them are the best possible casting choice for their characters, the found family trope is one of the best I've seen and especially TayNew delivered another gem with this one. I shall never doubt them again. This is how you do bromance. Certain other shows could never. send tweet.

Ah yes. No year goes by without the obligatory Mame guilty pleasure lol. What can I say. FortPeat as annoying southern scuba boy meets snobby whiny writer on a beach. How can I look away. I genuinely enjoyed this, it feels like the story was written for them, it's a perfect fit for them and their range I think plus I'm glad that Aya finally found a GL partner that matches her energy lol. I loved both couples and even though the plot did lack sometimes, you can count on MMY to serve S-tier chemistry no matter what. A+.

This is my personal hidden little gem, a small production with not a ton of attention, let alone good reviews but sometimes those are the best ones. The beginning was a bit slow but it quickly picked up. I decided to give it a watch mostly because I was curious about Charles' followup bl role and ended up getting very attached lol. So much softness and deep emotions and mutual healing that happened here and that I appreciated a lot. This was also my first Taiwanese BL in I think 3 years(?) I loved it.

I was very excited to watch this and see what Change 2561 came up with after Pit Babe and even though I'm not the biggest fan of cooking plots, I ended up enjoying this a lot! I've been a SailubPon and GarfieldBenz connoisseur since Pit Babe and it was so nice to see them in the spotlight in this. I saw a bunch of people drop it because they found Plawan annoying but I disagree lol. I had a very good time.

I initially tuned into this for Seng and Best, just to see what they're up to these days and it ended with me eating the whole thing up lol. The unapologetic approach to topics like sex education mixed with the sweet love stories that came with it is one of the things I appreciated + enjoyed a lot. I was a big fan of Peak and Thanwa and would definitely watch another show with Seng and Best as I really love their dynamic. Latte and Almond had a good start but fell a bit flat towards the end. Still a very deserving 7th place for me.

I was sooo excited for this and overall it did not disappoint, though I think it could have been better in some aspects. The comprehensive vibe was juvenile but not in a bad way. I anticipated gmmtv would choose a trope-y plot for their first GL to test the waters and it seems they succeeded. The main reason I put it as number 8 is the AylinLuna side story which I very strongly disliked for multiple reasons I won't get into here. But MilkLove did a fantastic job and this was a very nice debut for them. Thumbs up!

This might be the most unexpected gem for me this year. I started watching it because I was bored and nothing else was on and I was curious to see Dunk in his first solo gig. Surprisingly he did a big leap forward with his acting in this and White was by far my favorite character. Lune on the other hand was my least favorite which was another surprise as I previously loved Phuwin as Peem in We Are so I'm not sure why Lune was so unlikable. But anyway this was a very nice combination of different cute little stories, LuneStar were very trope-y but White saved a great deal of it by being the third wheel lol, plus the BL sideplot was pure sugar. I'm sad we won't see Ryu and Java together again and I resent them not giving us that well deserved WhiteIvy endgame but overall I enjoyed this a lot!

Never thought I would put a Siwaj production in my Top 10 but I'm tired of pretending I didn't secretly love this lmao. So much chaos but so much fun. It's a typical ensemble show, mostly aimed at a domestic audience with lots of slapstick and horseplay comedy, but I ended up being quite fond of all the couples. The main crystallization for me was that this is PondPhuwin's territory, this is the type of show they belong in imo. They excel at this kind of comedy and they seemed very careless and joyful in this, which I enjoyed and which made them a decent main couple. The QToey plot was a bit draggy and even though it's a big cast, 16 episodes were not necessary, which is why it gets the 10th place. But overall it still deserves to be in this list.

Thanks again to everyone who tagged me; in this and other things over the year, I appreciate you thinking of me!! 🥺🧡 I didn't manage to reply to every tag but know that I see them all and I try to do as many as possible! Also a big thank you and much love to all the lovely people I talked to this year, especially @lattexalmond, @mayalunas @bl-recs-and-reviews and @my-wandering-rabbit, I love and cherish each one of you! 🧡 Happy New Year to everyone who read this far, here's to a kind and successful 2025 with groundbreaking shows lol. I'm hopeful.

xxxx

[felignis]

the first and last lines of characters in the left/right game

spoilers under the cut!

ROB

first

ROB: Course my wife started to get dissatisfied, I was away a while.

last

ROB: … It’s been a real honour drivin’ with you Miss Sharma.

APOLLO

first

APOLLO: I've come out of Chicago. Took three days hard driving.

last

APOLLO: Oh god. Rob! ROB!!

CLYDE

firsy

CLYDE: We would have gotten here sooner we had to drop by to get some blankets. Pleasure to meet you ma'am.

last

CLYDE: I hope so too. Thank you for coming with me, I know it’s late.

LILITH AND EVE

first (joint)

LILITH: We have a friend there, he's been seeing some-

EVE: -He's a seismologist

LILITH: Yeah and he's been recording readings over the years that show subterranean movement. Predictable movement.

EVE: We're going to see him in July, but we could work it around you if you're free.

last (eve)

EVE: I.. love you. I love y… you Jen.

last (lilith)

LILITH: I wish we could have been friends for longer.

ACE

first

ACE: It's my car. What am I meant to do,? It's my car.

last

ACE: Rob, what do I do?! Rob?!

MARJORIE

first

GREYWOMAN: Lambs at the gate. Hoping for something better than clover when all they find are things worse than slaughter.

last

MARJORIE: And what do I do now? What- What do I do?!

BONNIE

first

BONNIE: Well OK I suppose we should get back on the road then… if everyone’s ready.

last

BONNIE: I love you very much Martin. You’re always welcome.

THE HITCHHIKER

First

HITCHHIKER: Not much in the way of seating back here huh!

last

HITCHHIKER: I can tell you everything you want to know. Even the things you never knew about yourself. Even the thoughts you didn’t know you were thinking… those little critters, all the way at the back.

BLUEJAY

first

BLUEJAY: I’m tired.

last

BLUEJAY: I was ri… I was-

CHUCK GREENWALD

first

CHUCK: That was “Sister Moon” by Leslie Estrada, another song to calm you folks down as we head into the evening. It’s Chuck Greenwald and I’m with you till the witching hour.

last

CHUCK: They’re going to hurt now.

ROB JR/BOBBY

first

last

ALICE (SPOKEN)

first

AS: For work?

last

AS: I’m still not certain I trust you.

ALICE (WRITTEN)

first

They say great stories happen to those who can tell them. Robert J. Guthard is an exception to that rule. As I sit at his table, sip his coffee and listen to him recount the past 65 years it sounds like he's reading off a shopping list. Every event, his first job, his second wedding, his third divorce, none of them receive more than one or two sentences. Rob plows through the years, the curt, dispassionate curator of his own personal history. Yet the story itself is so fascinating, so rich with moments and so wildly meandering that it somehow stands on its own merits.

last

I’m going to take a drive. Take a left, then the next possible road on the right, then the next possible left. I will repeat the process ad infinitum, until I wind up somewhere new.

And from there I’ll keep driving, beyond worlds, beyond time, beyond the bounds of my imagining. To a place where the lake runs dry, where the broken moon drifts away, and the stars disappear in the rear view.

To a place where everything has fallen away, and the road is all there is.

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Sixteen.

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed. 

Words - 3,385

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen Fourteen Fifteen

“Aemond, come and sit,” Otto advised, stifling a yawn. “You are wearing a trench into the floor.” 

It killed him, hearing the screams, fury and fear from his wife coming from the next room within their quarters, unable to go to her. She needed him, yet it was not a man’s place to be present as his wife toiled through her labours, the king finally sitting upon the adjacent couch to his grandsire, pouring out a measure of rum and sinking it.  

“And you will be steady with that,” he then added, nodding to the bottle. 

“As my Hand, I quite expect you to put forth good reasoning when I am required to give it attention. Now is not one of those moments,” the king spoke, pouring another.  

“Aemond, I speak to you now not as your Hand, but as your grandsire.” Yanking the bottle from his grasp, he placed it down at his feet, pointing sternly to the beaker he held. “Sip it! Having you in here drunk as a lord will do nobody any merit.” 

He sighed; his shoulders tight. “It might serve to help me feel marginally less useless.”  

Otto smiled thinly, remembering his own anguish at not being able to be there for his wife during the same. How he still mourned his darling Alyrie, even years on from her passing. “It is simply not our place, grandson. I do however realise that it must be even harder for you, with the exceptional nature of your relationship.”  

What he alluded to of course, was not lost on Aemond. “I feel every ounce of her distress. Hence why I was trying at least to numb it with a little rum.” His eye then fixed upon Otto. “Was.” 

“I remain resolute, Aemond.” Oh, what a formidable barrier his grandsire was in placing himself between the only source of fortification he sought, another scream ripping through the air, Aemond wincing. “Do you feel it literally as a pain within, what Aemella experiences?” 

“Not as such,” he began, sipping from the beaker in his grasp. “Tis’ very uncomfortable all the same. I cannot explain it in a way you would understand. Nobody does, except for her.”  

Just then, the door opening disturbed the quiet of their room, Aemond out of his seat in a flash. 

“I am returning to my quarters to rest,” Alicent spoke, reaching for her son’s arms as she leaned to kiss his cheek. “Gileda is with her.” 

“How is she?” he asked, Alicent stroking his cheek, seeing the weight of it bearing down upon him very clearly. 

“She fares much better than she considers, but these things can of course take great time. Grand Maester Orwyle assures us that all is progressing as it should, although she is not yet close to the active stage of birthing. Try and get a little sleep, perhaps return to your former quarters and rest?” 

“I am going nowhere.” he scoffed, his pacing beginning once more. Alicent shared a look with her father, Otto silently conveying that he would look after him before she took her leave.  

Aemond's resolve to remain steadfast in the face of his wife's suffering was a testament to the depth of his love and the strength of his character. Although he did falter at times. Especially when his queen began to call out for him specifically. 

“No, no. Come on back.” Otto spoke, grasping his shoulders and steering him to the couch once more. “She will be fine, I promise you this.” Truly, he had no foresight to know it was a promise he could keep, but what could he do? His grandson was having a very natural reaction to hearing the love of his life in such distress. A little placation was needed.  

As the hours dragged on, the flickering candlelight casting the room in an amber glow, his mind raced with unspoken fears and fervent hopes. Otto's presence, though a source of frustration, was also a comfort, a bulwark against the tide of helplessness that threatened to overwhelm him.  

If only he was not guarding the rum so steadfastly. 

Each scream that pierced the air was a dagger to his heart, yet he clung to the knowledge that Aemella was a force of unwavering strength in her own right to endure something that seemed nothing short of horrific. Even if it did sound like she was not coping well with such. 

The night seemed interminable, but within the walls of his quarters, a quiet determination took root. Aemond's thoughts drifted to the future, to the moment when he would finally hold his child, a tangible symbol of their love and their legacy. His heir. Even if the first child was a daughter, he would break with tradition, he had decided, and name her his successor. There would be no quarrels the likes of which had split the realm from his fraction of house Targaryen. 

With every measured sip of rum, every word of reassurance from his grandsire, he fortified himself against the tumultuous tide of his emotions, finding strength in the solidarity of his family and the unyielding bond he shared with his beloved twin.  

The morning broke, and with it no arrival of their babe, Gileda and Alicent once again switching places, the former coming to him. 

“Your grace,” she spoke, bowing. “The queen is well, tired now she is nearing active birth, but well.”  

The scream that suddenly filled the air sank heavy against his chest, Aemond closing his eye, pointing in the direction she had come. “Your words fill me with reassurance, Gileda. That, however, does not.” 

“Tis’ a painful thing, your grace. The queen battles on wonderfully, though. It should not be too much longer now before the little one is here with us. I will take my leave.” 

His hand then suddenly reached for hers, preventing her departure. “I appreciate you highly, Gileda. For staying with her.”  

It was a fondness she had not expected from the stoic king, one who rarely showed his emotions at all. “Always, your grace.” she nodded, leaving him be.  

Morning ran into afternoon, Aemond brought parchments to sign, meeting with Lord Jasper, discussing a few of the issues faced where monetary expenditures were concerned, the busyness of presiding over a realm only giving him temporary respite from his endless wait. His heart ached for Aemella, that she did not have the same luxury offered unto her.  

As time stretched on, and the shadows began to lengthen once more as a second evening fell, Aemond's resolve grew ever more determined. His mind became a battleground of despair and hope, each thought a fervent prayer for Aemella's safe delivery of their babe. He found himself lingering by the door, as if his closer presence alone could somehow ease her suffering, the rhythmic pacing a testament to his inner turmoil. 

The knowledge that the culmination of their love was so close, yet so fraught with peril, weighed heavily upon him. He could hear the muffled voices of the Maester and his team encouraging her through the birthing, the occasional reassuring murmur from his mother, yet each scream began to echo louder, resonating within the very core of his being.  

The castle seemed to hold its breath, as if the walls themselves were witnessing the poignant struggle within. With his grandsire snoozing upon the couch, he helped himself to another rum, placing the bottle down quietly. Not quietly enough. 

An eye cracked opened. “You are a guileful boy.” 

Aemond couldn’t help but laugh softly through his nose, seeing his grandsire’s wry smile widen his mouth. “I get that from you.” 

Suddenly, the opening of the door gave them both a start, Otto straightening, Aemond turning to be greeted by the Grand Maester. 

“Your grace,” he bowed. Gods, the man looked tired, staying awake right through this whole process to in order to be present for the queen. “The labours progress well, but her grace is exhausted by it. She makes valiant efforts in her pushes, but the babe is still not yet with us because of her weariness. I feel it will be a time yet.” 

Or not, if Aemond had anything to do with it. “Fuck it.” he spat, sinking the rum and slamming the beaker to the table, making a start for the door.  

“Your grace, you must not, please I have to insist that you...” Orwyle began as Aemond stormed through to the bedchamber, receiving the same polite discouragement once he arrived. To see his wife turn to him, her exhausted, tear-streaked visage brightening in an instant spoke louder than anyone attempting to force him out of the room once more.  

“Your grace, this is unprecedented, and I must...” 

“You will deliver my child, Grand Maester, and I shall be here supporting the queen while you do it.” He then climbed onto the bed, moving a few of the pillows, slotting himself down and wrapping his wife in a tight embrace.  

“Look at me, precious one,” he began, his fingers weaving with hers, Aemella turning her head as she leaned into his chest. “You are my love, my twin star and my entire world. You are the strongest, most formidable force I have ever known, and your strength will see you through this. You can do it, Mella, and I will be right here with you as you do, laws and traditions be fucking damned.”  

With the renewed bolstering of her beloved right there behind her, she dug deep into the very depths of herself, summoning a strength as yet untouched, pushing with all her might as she hung onto Aemond’s hands. It took time, but not as much as she wagered it would have without him right there behind her, the Red Keep at last filled with the cries of their newborn child. 

“A son, your graces!” Orwyle announced, holding the baby aloft, taking clean linens to immediately wipe him down before placing him on his mother’s chest. “My warmest congratulations to you both.”  

Aemella sobbed with joy as she looked down upon him, her beautiful son, finally there, screaming his tiny lungs out.  

“See?” Aemond spoke, kissing her cheek, his fingertip moving to lovingly stroke his son’s head. “I told you; you could do it, and now he is here at long last.” 

Turning to him, she pressed her lips to his, her heart bursting to see him shed tears of happiness, stroking his face lovingly before she leaned to press a kiss upon their son's head. “Look at you, little boy,” she spoke with emotion, “you are perfect!”  

They were given a few moments pause to bask in their new unity as a family, the baby then taken by the Maester to be checked over and cleaned properly, Aemella passing the afterbirth before she was washed, stitched where needed, changed into a fresh nightdress and made comfortable upon a clean bed.  

The baby took a feed, the nursemaid Ceira there to help bring his wind up thereafter, an extremely tired Aemella fighting against her urge to sleep as she watched from the bed. Her eyelids grew ever heavier, Aemond insisting he hold his son once he’d had brought up his wind, Ceira passing the child into his father’s arms.  

“Love, go to sleep,” he spoke, smiling fondly, holding their babe securely against his chest. “Between Ceira and I, we shall look after the boy while you rest. You have earned it.” 

“Hmm,” she hummed, still fighting it, Aemond watching until she finally dozed off, leaning to kiss her head.  

“That will be all for the moment, Ceira,” he spoke, “I wish to spend a little time with my family alone.”  

“I shall return later, your grace.” the elder woman spoke, exiting his quarters. 

Walking towards the room he had paced endlessly in the time preceding, he reached to open the door, entering to the expectant faces of his mother and grandsire. 

“I have somebody who would like to meet his grandmother and great grandsire,” he spoke, the pair moving to flank him, both looking down at the child with eyes that shone with affection. “This is prince Aeryn.” 

“Oh, there has not been an Aeryn in the family for quite some time. A wonderful choice,” Alicent spoke, holding out her arms. “May I?”  

Passing him over, Aemond couldn’t keep the proud smile from his face, watching his mother gently bounce her grandson in her arms. “Hello, my little love, hello. You are such a beautiful little babe, yes!” 

Otto opened his arms, embracing Aemond warmly. “My congratulations to you, grandson.” 

Aemond nodded in acceptance, gesturing towards the table. “Will you allow me another rum now?”  

His grandsire’s laughter filled the space, clapping him on the shoulder heartily. “I do not see why not. Tis’ customary to wet the babe’s head, after all.”  

“I think I require it, for I now understand firsthand why it is we men are kept away during labours,” he spoke, his eye widening. 

“A rule you so unceremoniously flouted,” Alicent chirped, tearing her eyes away from the babe for a moment. Aemond merely sniffed, unbothered. 

Pouring out two measures of rum, Otto passed the beaker to him, both toasting to the child’s health. “Was it truly a terrible thing to witness?” 

Screaming. Blood. So much blood. “When people claim it to be beautiful, they lie,” he began, his eye still wide, lips thinning. “Tis’ beautiful when they have arrived, but the preceding part? Seven hells, no. And I was only present for the end.” 

Otto could imagine if he tried, but did not wish to, merely smiling as he stiffened to prevent the internal shudder. “And how is Aemella?” 

“Sleeping, thankfully. The poor woman is thoroughly exhausted.” That sleep stretched on, too, Aemella awaking to the most heartwarming sight. There beside her upon the bed lay her husband, bare to the waist, their son sleeping contentedly on his chest. 

“I am informed by Ceira that this is beneficial to the bonding process, skin on skin contact. He did a shit on me, though, so the nappy has made a reappearance.” 

Laughing all she was able through her soreness, Aemella reached to stroke his face, her hand then gently cradling Aeryn’s tiny head. “And did you place the nappy on him yourself?”  

His sour expression again evoked her laughter. “The seven hells, I did,” he grunted, lip curling a smidgen. “That is an expertise beyond my means.” 

“Or rather, you pledge not concern yourself with shitty nappies and swaddling rags?” she teased. 

“I would rather not concern myself with the fact he soiled on my fucking chest, yet here we are,” he hummed, smiling widely, turning his head to press a kiss against her shoulder. “You should have witnessed mother holding him. She was instantly in her element. I feel that the palpable frostiness she has shown toward you since my coronation might finally be at its thaw.”  

Propping herself up a little more, Aemella reached to stroke Aeryn’s hand, marvelling at him. There he was, at last. “I think that beneath it all, she knows. I just hope that in time she forgives me, that she realises my actions served the good of so much more apart from you and me. Aegon was a liability that had to be eradicated for the good of the realm. But let us not linger upon such talk. This is Aeryn’s day.” 

“And he is content to sleep through most of it.” As if acting like a siren, the boy began to snuffle, making little gasps of displeasure that preceded the howling. “I think he may be hungry.”  

Aemella opened her arms. “This is where mummy comes in.” 

“Are you resigned to feeding him yourself,” he began, carefully placing the babe into her arms, “or will you call upon a wetnurse?”  

Again, it was quite standard within noble houses, for such a woman to take on the feeding instead of the mother herself. “I am undecided. Before his birth, I did consult mother about it, Ceira as well. Apparently, when we were born, we fed both from mother and our wetnurse equally, but Ceira warned me that they can become fussy and decide to favour one over the other.”  

“It would leave you with much more time to sleep if you did, but I will leave the ultimate choice to you, love.” he spoke, his fingertip idly stroking his son’s tiny foot as he watched him latch on and take his feed. It was a beautiful sight, seeing his love and their newborn bonding, Aemella smiling down at the babe in a way he’d never witnessed before.  

As Aeryn continued to feed, Aemond's heart swelled with an emotion that felt brand new, a strange experience as he had thought until that moment, his wife had already stirred all he was capable of feeling. His usual stoicism gave way to a profound tenderness, his heart flooded with serenity.  

He marvelled at the simple, lovely domesticity of the moment, feeling a newfound respect for Aemella's strength and resilience. The gentle snuffling of their son and the soft murmurs of his wife created a cocoon of peace around him, momentarily shielding him from the responsibilities and burdens of his station.  

“Would you like many more in the future?” he questioned, her immediate snort amusing him. 

“Ask me when I have forgotten how painful it was!” she scoffed, her elegant fingertip stroking the soft, chubby cheek of her son. “Although amazingly, I did not need to be stitched more than twice, which the Grand Maester said is a rarity. I stretched sufficiently, it appears.” 

“Well, you’re used to it.” His eyes flitted to his crotch, then back at her with a roguish grin. “You’re welcome.” 

She began to shake with laughter, narrowing her eyes. “People would not believe me if I told them of how playfully humorous you can be. And filthy.” 

“I wouldn’t want them to,” he sniffed, “who I am in private is not the man anybody else should expect to see.” Stretching, he tried to stifle a yawn, failing miserably, removing his eye patch to rub beneath.  

“Did you sleep at all during my labours?” she asked. 

“Here and there.” 

She was unconvinced, her raised eyebrow showing it. “Aemond.” 

“Not one fucking moment, no. I was too preoccupied with panicking, or as grandsire worded it, wearing a trench into the floor,” he finally confessed with candour. “I might doze a little now, if you do not mind?” 

Leaning to him, she kissed his forehead. “Of course not, my love. I shall send for Ceira once more, ask her to help me with this little piglet.” A soft call alerted Ser Eddard, who dutifully located the nursemaid, bringing her back to their quarters. 

Aemond was snoring softly before she’d even stepped foot in the door, taking the babe from his mother and moving through to quarters to the child’s nursery, a room located just off from their bedchamber.  

“If you wish to go and curl up with his grace, I shall arrange for the wetnurse to be on hand for his feeds throughout the night. I expect he will awake at least twice more from hunger.” There were two beds within the nursery bedchamber, one for Ceira and the other ready if she did so choose the wetnurse to attend over the evening.  

The mother in her wished to solely be the one to nurse her treasured son, but the tired young woman beneath that somewhat overrode it. Gods, she could sleep for a week, she felt. “I think for tonight, I wish to sleep, Ceira.” 

Bending to the cradle, she kissed her son before leaving him in the capable hands of the nursemaid, returning to carefully pull Aemond from his britches and throw the covers over him. Climbing into bed slowly, she winced, her poor womanhood so very sore, pulling the blankets over them as she draped an arm over his waist, stuffing her face into the pillows. 

The king and queen slept very, very soundly that night. Their son, however, did not. Luckily, though, between Ceira and Lula, the wetnurse who crept in as the royals slept, the little prince was very well cared for while his exhausted mummy and daddy remained in deep slumber.  

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :) 

Next Chapter

[guster-animations]

Kamen Rider Gavv Episode 27 Production Blog

either i’m rusty or this one just sucked to get through. minami takishima is moving down on my producer tier list

TOKU TRANSLATION MASTERPOST HERE

taken from this website

Looking at the Next Episode

Thank you for waiting two weeks for “Kamen Rider Gavv”! It was a welcome break from this hard-core story. Director Sugihara had a lot of fun with the passage where Sachika captures Chocold (the dark chocolate Gochizo) in Dente’s cave (None of it was specified in the script, haha). And then Kamen Rider Bake, which is packed full of Asanuma’s emotions. He was perfectly synchronized with his suit actor, Kai Kitamura! The fated confrontation will continue in the next episode.

Previously, it was written that the “Hanto-Dr. Suga” connection was what created the second Kamen Rider, but it’s really formed from the “Suga-Hanto-Shoma” connection. Shoma is trying with all his effort to bring back Hanto, who can’t separate himself from Suga. It is true that Suga isn’t an enemy or on the bad-guy side, and it’s a win-win for Hanto. It feels like the three of them have had their interests thrown off kilter. How will this unsteady relationship turn out in the end?

Please look forward to Hino, Chinen, and Asanuma’s soul-filled performances in the next episode!

The Episode in Short

“Does it really end there?!” Well, thank you for watching episode 27, which aired two weeks after the last episode. (Ooh…! During that time, there were school memories that didn’t really happen… haha. Please look forward to this as well.)

Episodes 27 and 28 are “soulful Sugihara episodes” that Hino eagerly spoke of. The new form that appears in the preview is cold, but he’s still overflowing with warmth, so please watch their battles to the end.

Mr. Suga’s Lullaby

Hanto witnesses Suga talking with two Dark Shomas. In the moment where Suga responds to a Dark Shoma that called him Dad with “I’m not your dad!”, his line mixes a beaming smile with coldheartedness. To rub salt in the wound, he addresses the distraught Hanto like nothing’s out of the ordinary. Every expression of Asanuma’s is incredible. Hats off to him for the amount and depth of his knowledge.

But this is the first time that he’s looked impatient when Hanto flees the laboratory and leaves him alone. Supposing that he gave Hanto the BreaCookie Gochizo… I wonder how that would’ve turned out.

Suga’s lullaby was striking in this episode. We decided to make it something from overseas at the scriptwriting meeting, so we had him hum a Brahms lullaby.

Even Suga’s character song (which is currently popular on streaming platforms), “Inquiry into the Test Subject’s Evolution,” mentions “sleep” in its lyrics. By the way, he doesn’t seem to be singing alone in “Test Subject’s Evolution”. Please enjoy this in addition to the main series…!

I wonder how Shoma’s feeling, after being captured by a Kamen Rider that a clone with his own face transformed into, and being forced to listen to something akin to a ransom call.

Shoma: “Hanto, your specialist researcher is kinda scary, I guess~ (laugh)”

Hurry! Dente Hospital

In the case that you’ve found your dear friend Hanty lying on the road, and he can’t go to the hospital…

You should check him in at Dente’s place.

Hanto’s been in this situation many times. He’s accumulated experience with scenes where he loses consciousness and where he sees things that he shouldn’t have seen.

Treatment requires electricity! So, the Gochizos generate electricity with a hamster wheel. 💡

(This process uses up all their strength…?!) They’re sacrificing themselves to save Hanto!

Then, Sachika sees the movements of the Chocold Gochizo planning to escape with her mind’s eye.

This Anything Agency is too amazing. Director Sugihara had a lot of fun adding flavor to it!

The old Granute and the gyaru are comforting.

Then, Rakian joins them too. It’s a little amusing to hear Sachika’s signature nicknames spreading to Dente. Please look forward to Mr. Dente’s research into his former pupil Nyelv’s belt and Gochizos in the next episode.

Transform. A Freshly-made Bake

Full-power change!

16 Bang! Zenkai Jurrrrran, Dinosaur Power!

…is what you’d think he’d say, but he doesn’t. He transforms not with gear, but by setting a cookie Gochizo into the Bake Magnum.

It was Asanuma’s idea for him to not immediately think of the word “transform”. It’s very fitting for Suga to not place importance on the word most valuable for every Kamen Rider, to only be interested in his technology. It’s creepy (this is a compliment). And then Asanuma adds the ever-symbolic finger snap… he’s never careless…

As the name suggests, Kamen Rider Bake successfully transforms with a sequence that looks like something being baked.

The pattern is asymmetrical in its placement of chocolate chips in the cookie-like armor. Since the Bake Magnum is an upgrade of the Valen Buster, his body’s outline resembles Valen.

The suit actor for post-transformation Suga is Kai Kitamura. Not only is he close in height to Asanuma, but they’re both left-handed (and Kitamura also has a really good voice)! So, he mainly fights with the Bake Magnum in his left hand.

Kamen Rider Bake is comprised of the teamwork of Kitamura, who is experienced with stage shows, and Asanuma, who’s been part of many stage works and performances. They read their lines aloud together beforehand, and he actually made his movements to match Asanuma’s voice even on the scene. They took it on with teamwork and an extraordinary degree of passion.

Suga’s detached presence is still felt while transformed. He doesn’t think it’s important that he’s become a Rider, more so that he gets to demonstrate his technology. He might have thought, “Well, the person I put Granute organs into doesn’t seem willing, so I’ll just do it myself”.

A new battle song, arranged from Suga’s theme for Bake’s action scenes, has been created! This feeling of being chased down, like in a racing game with a dark racecourse, is amazing…!

And then there’s a rumor of Action Director Fujita attractively showing “character consistency”.

Bake is always chatting in his voice-overs, with a lot of ad-libs added for the footage. It’s somehow scary that he doesn’t change to a special voice because he’s become a Rider, instead keeping his detached tone of voice. I think that it’s the result of all of Asanuma’s experience and technologies, and that any character has limitations, but it seems to have left an impact on Chinen and Hino, who witnessed it (Laugh).

What stuck out the most was the truth that Suga had always been using them… he’s shaved down Hanto’s body and mind to nothing. 💦

…Even so, Hino is very good at crying while acting. (He immediately got an “OK” for the shot where his tears trickle down in the opening, too.)

Can he somehow get back up and retaliate?! Please stand by in the morning next week, with a frappe in one hand! (Laugh)

Accompany these two, who are very good friends offscreen. Please also look forward to the two-week special Valen commentary on TTFC!

(Written by Minami Takishima)

[palenutbasement]

(all scenes are depicted as platonic)

So every Inktober I try to do something more challenging, and this year I thought I would make a short comic/fanfic. I think I got the idea for this one a year ago but I was already wrapped up with another Inktober. Eventually I solidified the idea by making my own prompt list some time ago.

This comic is split into three parts with 10 days focusing on each of them, 30 in total, everything is compiled here. I wanted to post them after October in case I wanted to change anything.

This first part takes place in the summit.

The comic is basically all improvised, that means no planning for the composition, plot, or sketching any drawings. The most planning I did was write a few scripts ahead of time within the month to save me some time but most of them would be changed last minute anyways.

As for the plot, I won't go too deep into it because I don't want to talk too much, so you'll just find commentary on the making of the comic and stuff.

This first part is a little gimmick-y compared to the next two, with new elements appearing almost every day. It’s because I relied a lot on the prompts (dog, milk, etc.) to keep things happening, eventually I move further away from them.

What is surprising to me is how much the art changes as the days go by especially within the span of one month. I did refine a few things to keep it more consistent but this is nearly indistinguishable from the original drawings.

I should also mention that my favourite aspect of this project was adding references to the game and subtle details (if you can find it all, awesome!!) This may have been done quickly but I like to have those things and put at least a bit of effort into the dialogue.

Part 2

Eventually I figured that drawing the same setting for 30 days straight would drive me insane, hence why this comic is split like it is. I’m glad I did because it makes the story a little more interesting, seeing the characters have different attitudes in different places and whatnot.

This one takes place in the cave directly after pt 1. Admittedly I do better drawing outdoor settings, it's what I'm used to, but the cave wasn't so bad to figure out.

I remember these two days I was streaming drawing the comic to my friends, so I kinda zoned out while we were talking lol

One of the prompts was about napping, so I made Dwarf sleep. I believe I was tired that day too and it was therapeutic to draw and include that. Also they look cute, I think.

18 & 19 have some of my favourite drawings in the comic. The campfire lighting is what we'd get if I had a bit more energy each day, and I like the perspective in the first panel of 19.

I find this last section interesting, because of all the 30 days, it’s the only one in Dwarf’s POV. I felt like it was fitting to do something like that at the time.

Part 3

Since we were approaching Halloween, I wanted to have a special part for it. It’s related to the other two parts but it takes place some time after. I’m really sorry it’s out of season, if it were up to me I would have had this post out earlier (thank my midterms for the delay)

Out of all the other parts this one is my favourite. Maybe because it’s more recent I’m inclined to think that way but it has some of my fave moments that I've written here.

Other than that I don't have much commentary for this part. More thoughts at the end!

I was caught up everyday atp, but I didn’t have much spare time to prepare for the ending (I wrote it the morning of that day). I think this is a decent conclusion though.

I intend on coming back to this story, maybe next year to make a continuation but we'll see what happens. There are definitely things that I want to come back to someday.

Thank you for making it this far btw. It's been an eventful month for me beyond this (Untitled) comic, but there wasn't a single aspect of this that I didn't enjoy doing. It's a silly project and I care about it.

Also, I'm not going to neglect the 31st of October! That day will get an illustration, where I will pick my favourite panel and redraw it. I want to take my time with this one so it's not out yet, but hopefully I can finish by Christmas.

[hatsunemiku-official]

ABOUT ME-KU

(+ FAQ / VOCALOID-OFFICIAL MASTERPOST)

hi! im miku and welcome to Internet! you can do lots of fun things here. like look at my blog! ok im gonna hand the mic over to the omnipotent being that watches my every move

thanks miku. here are some things to remember before you send an ask:

- I am not associated with crypton, sega, or the official miku twitter! im just a guy making funny post

- miku lives in a computer. i probably won’t answer anything referring to her doing things in the real world, since saying “I am in a computer what are you talking about” is only funny the first five times

- I use my askbox as a jumping off point for jokes! if I don’t answer your ask it’s not because I didn’t like it, I just probably couldn’t think of anything funny to respond with

- I love receiving art!!!!!!! please send me your miku art!!!!!!! you can even send me a link to your art posted on your own blog and I’ll reblog it so you still get the notes!!!! I LOVE ART!!!!!! (also the ai training toggle has been turned off for this blog so. you’re safe here.)

- there are some things you should speak to a mental health professional about ( ie “i just can’t go on” “my life is terrible” ect) and you should not send these things to hatsune miku. i understand and empathize with you but I cannot help you and it’s very upsetting to receive things like this !

- anything written in parentheses for the most part is an ooc comment from the person running this blog (that’s me!). I don’t like doing this very often though, so if you have a question that can only really be answered ooc then please ask it off anon so I can respond privately!

- please remember I am just one person and sometimes I make mistakes! im a pretty busy person and also disabled so sometimes things slip through the cracks when im low energy. I do my best though so please let me know if you think i’ve made a mistake and i’ll do my best to fix it :]

- sometimes I like to reblog miku art from other people! please be respectful in these artists notes. I know this is a silly jokes blog but these people have not necessarily signed up to be goofed at on their posts. please be kind and keep the clowning to a minimum on posts that aren’t made by me!

- no TERFS allowed. hatsune miku loves trans women

FAQ

Q: can I make a vocaloid-official blog too???

A: yes!!!! anybody can!! please let me know if you do so I can add you to the masterpost and interact with you! I would check the masterpost first though to make sure there hasn’t already been a blog made for that character :]

Q: do you also run [insert other vocaloid-official blog]?

A: no! I can barely think of funny things to say here do you really think I could manage being funny on two blogs at once. I am friends with the people who run the teto, luka and una blogs so if our posts seem coordinated it’s because I asked them really nicely

Q: who runs this account?

A: secret

Q: miku what’s your opinion on [insert queer identity]

A: I don’t like answering these because I don’t want to open myself up to shitty comments and I can’t think of anything funny to say that wouldn’t just sound like “ally twitch streamer smiling at the camera and saying trans rights”. this blog is run by a queer person and miku is whatever you want her to be, if that helps.

Q: i made a vocaloid-official blog! how do I get added to the masterpost?

A: adding people to the masterpost has gotten really overwhelming for me so I won’t be doing it anymore. sorry! feel free to still make a vocaloid-official blog and interact with me if you want, I just won’t be updating the masterpost anymore. the current list will stay up as it is as sort of like. a memento or something.

Q: you posted about something that I don’t understand!!! why!!!!!

A: sometimes i like to post about my personal interests that don’t really have anything to do with hatsune miku because i cannot contain the mental illness. you will see the occasional post about bands or video games you do not and will not ever give a shit about. sorry. I can’t stop it. it has to happen.

Q: do you know anything about PJSK???

A: no <3

OFFICIAL VOCALOID-OFFICIAL MASTERPOST

these are my Official Friends! go say hi to them!!

🥖 @kasaneteto-official

🐟 @megurineluka-official

🐙 @otomachi-una-official

🍷 @hanakomeiko-official

💛 @neruakita-official

🍌 @kagaminelen-official

🍊 @kagaminerin-official

🍦@kaitoshinon-offical

🐢 @ryuto-official (RESURRECTED)

💜 @vflower-official

🥕 @gumi-official

🖤 @zatsunemiku-official

🍡 @tohokuzunko-official

🩹 @fukase-official

🔌 @utatanepiko-official

🐰 @yukari-official

🩵 @ringsuzune-official

⚓️ @oliverv3-official

🌷 @nekomurairoha-official

🥢 @vocaloidcul-official

☕️ @rukoyokune-official

🥂 @meiko-offical

👑 @galaco-official

🐱 @seeu-official

🌸 @meikahime-official

🪻 @meikamikoto-official

🍆 @gakupo-official

🎀 @utanekoe-official

🌹 @sakinemeiko-official

🔪 @mayuofficial

🛰️ @moonbase-alpha-tts-official

🍺 @yowane-haku-official

🪐 @ia-official

🎹 @namineritsu-official

☁️ @tone-rion-official

🎤 @maika-official

🌈 @kawaiine-official

🍏 @macnenana-official

🌻 @dex-official

💗 @garnetvocaloid-official

💿 @yohioloid-official

🌺 @zhizidongfang-official

🤍 @kokone-official

🐸 @vocaloidrana-official

🌟 @xingchen-official

🍎 @yuki-official

🌿 @fionetheutau-official

💫 @sfa2miki-official

[supeskenobi]

After leaving Doctor Who, Chris Chibnall said that both he and the BBC struggled to find a replacement for him as showrunner. Hell he literally wrote up a list of pros and cons after being asked by Moffat and came away with twenty five cons and two pros, before taking the job. However seeing how the fandom treated him, Moffat and now RTD after this finale (and last year's) really makes me understand why is it a struggle and why very few writers want the job.

Aside from the grueling production (you work every weekend, every holiday, screw up meals with family or loved ones, put your own mental and physical health on the line, face constant pressure from the BBC and scrutiny from the press), who the fuck wants to subject themselves to the vitriolic attacks from Doctor Who fans on a daily basis? To have their writing critiqued is one thing, but to have their character attacked? What gives you that right? You don't know these people from Adam, yet the way fans talk about them, they might as well be Hitler or Stalin.

"We want fresh blood!" you cry! "We want a new showrunner!" you scream!. Well guess what? You would treat them the same way you've treated every other fucking showrunner/script editor/producer since Nineteen Sixty FUCKING THREE! It's only gotten worse since social media exploded during the Moffat era, but it's always been there. Do I need to pull out that clip from the Doctor Who Appreciation Society from 1986? Why must we go through this shit every year/series/Doctor/showrunner?

Remember this is the worst finale since the last one. This is the worst season since the last one. This era is the worst since the last one. This showrunner is the worst one since the last one. #RIPDoctorWho (1963-2017/2013/2010/2005/1989 ad infinitum). And don't get me started on those little Daleks who say the show should be put on hiatus or cancelled because you just know they'll be crying the loudest when it actually happens and will be hastaging #RestoreTheWhoniverse!

Don't worry, when Steven Moffat comes back for the Moffat Era II: Timey-Whimey Boogaloo (because let's face it, the next showrunner will be someone who has written for the show before and has an intimate knowledge of it and of the fanbase, both the positive and negative side to it) you'll be begging the BBC and (possibly if they're still involved) Disney to bring back RTD, like you did between 2010 and 2021. Once the new showrunner is firmly ensconced, those Rose Tyler tinted nostalgia glasses will firmly be back on. "Guys RTD II was peak Who!" Fuck me, this fandom is the ultimate Ouroboros.

If I was a writer, I'd stay far away from Doctor Who as much as possible, and that pains me because I love this show! But after the last decade of fandom, I can say I'd rather smear my genitals in honey and dangle them in front of a very hungry Winnie the Pooh, than write for Doctor Who. Blimey, you lot are slowly becoming the new Star Wars fans.

Look I am not arguing you can't have your criticisms or complaints about this or any other era of the show (I have mine to be sure), but the way some of you have been acting for a long while now; is down right disturbing and demoralising (especially here on tumblr. The endless hate boner for Moffat is just pathetic). At the end of the day, I feel that we get so caught up in the ups and downs of a TV show, that we forget that there are human beings behind those ups and downs, and how we speak about them online, is more often than not seen by creatives who would love to write for the show; but see the nasty things that are said about the current production most likely put them off ever taking the job. As every year passes, this fandom proves Mark Gatiss was right; being showrunner of Doctor Who is a poison chalice.