#barely concious while drawing

[mayasaurusss]

I’m back!! 🤩

I was in fact not the anon who requested the last Jackie fic (Tough that person was so real for that!) but I am back with more thoughts now!

Your Lucy post + fallout winning an award got me THINKING and I was wondering if you’d ever write for her again? 2 things from your last post specifically:

1) “The moment you two walk inside one of the vault’s bedroom, she has already stripped free of her clothes (…). There is not a moment that isn’t spent without her dick in your mouth, without you riding her to death.”

God!!! 🫠

She’d be thrilled to finally have the time to fuck you properly, without constantly worrying. Not that she’d care much about ‘getting caught’ out there, but it’s still a pleasant difference to take her sweet time with you.

Sucking her off, but it’s slow and sensual and not the usual quick and rough thing…Moving your head along Lucy’s length…Eye contact as her jaw goes slack and her head falls back as your throat works around her…Gagging on it when her tip hits the back of your throat, but not stopping because you can feel her twitching inside…

Also Lucy who doesn’t let a single drop go to waste!! Who makes sure you swallow it, who breeds you, then gently fucks her cum back into you until you’re full.

2) Lucy who, if anyone dares to interrupt your time together will draw her gun from her clothes and shoot them without even looking.

Now something about that…Something about that!!

Now here’s what I’m thinking: She’s got you on some flat surface, your legs either thrown over her shoulder or wrapped around her waist. And she’s fucking you good.

You genuinely cannot stop babbling as she thrusts into you at a fast pace, making your eyes roll back.

If anyone dares to interrupt, there’s no way Lucy will let that get to her. She doesn’t stop fucking you once, only makes sure to shoot them in the head for seeing what’s for her eyes only.

Anyway, that’s it. Sorry I got…carried away there!! Also love your writing and I’m happy to be back!

-🌿

Transfem Lucy Maclean nsfw blurbs

Gooood you're so right, anon!

Lucy who, despite having been changed by the wasteland, still has that old good soul of hers in her chest. She would lie if she told you that she didn't feel at least a little nervous about being alone with you. In the hours prior to her bedding you, she walks in circles inside the vault, attracting its resident's eyes. There is a feeling of urgency, of expectation in every breath, in every step she takes.

And when she finally, finally has you all to herself, she's eager to say the least.

How thrilling it feels when you push your lips on her length, taking your sweet time with her. You're torturing her, she thinks, so unused to taking things slow. But when you take her down your throath, crossing eyes with her, oh, Lucy could just melt under their gaze. Her head falls back on the pillows, eyes rolling back, hands searching desperately for something to grab onto as you get her closer to the edge. She settles on your head, pushing you deeper and deeper, feeling your throat tightening on her. With her fingers tangled in your hair, Lucy leads you on, pushing you down while her hips meet your face. And when she finally starts twitching, when her sighs and grunts become deeper, Lucy comes, painting the walls of your throath white. She holds you down while gyrating her hips on your face, choking you on her dick.

She won't let one drop fall, meticulously tracing the dripping white from your lips and pushing it back in, feeling herself get hard again when you start to suck on her thumb.

Oh it's on, you have no idea what you just got yourself into.

Fucking you until you're both spent on the bed, a ring of white resting where your bodies connects. Lucy will trace it with her fingers, barely concious enough to do it after having fucked you for hours; she'll smear some of it at the base, then push it back in, her fingers caught between her cock and your walls.

When you resume your travels with her, Lucy takes a while to feel comfortable into having sex with you again in the wasteland. It's a big jump from being comfortably settled inside a vault to the harsh reality of the world above. So she is the one to turn down any of your attempts into having sex with her. But the journey grows longer and harder, and there seems to never be a chance to let off some steam. But one night, you are camping inside an abandoned building. After checking every corner and all the surroundings, Lucy walks up to you and forcefully shoves you down on your knees in front of her. She grabs at her cock through her clothes, quickly unzipping her pants and letting them fall to the floor, her dirty bloodied shirt the only thing still clinging to her body. She is mean to you, calling you dirty for taking her so eagerly, while she rubs her tip on your lips, always faking pushing it in, until she does. You choke on her as she facefucks you, letting out all her frustrations on your poor body.

When your face is painted white and a burning yearning urges you to take her inside of you already, Lucy pushes you down, your legs thrown over her shoulders as she fucks deep inside of you. You are a mess under her trusts, feeling stars blossom beneath your eyelids. She fucks you so well and deep you think you might actually pass out from the pleasure.

Lucy is no better than you. She is absolutely a fucking mess, whimpering and grunting as you clench around her so good. You have your arms around her neck, ass rippling with every trust as she chokes you hard. The lack of air makes everything feel more and more euphoric. You cannot shut up, repeating "Please go faster, faster!" and any time her name spills from your mouth, Lucy's hips snap into you, chasing that high that both of you yearned for so long.

When the growlings of a feral echo inside the halls, Lucy pays it no mind, too focused on giving you the time of your life. She's just arched her back after you tightened on her hard, tits out in the open free for anyone to see, when the feral stumbles inside the room, spit falling out of its mouth. It almost looks confused for a moment, not reacting immediatley to what it's witnessing. Lucy notices it before you do, her trusts more mechanic than before: all her attention is on the ghoul, waiting for it to pounce on the two of you. Then, something wicked flashes through her mind. Your legs fall limp to the side as Lucy resumes her thrusts, so hard and good you might pass out. Her eyes bore into the ghoul's ones, smiling smugly as you clench down on her. It feels especially dirty when you moan loudly after she hits that spot that makes you see stars. The wetness between your body loudly squelches at every movement, rivaling the feral's groans. There is something so thrilling in fucking you this good in front of another living creature -as alive as this thing could be-. You dig your nails into her skin, making her heave a loud moan at the pleasure. For a moment, it seems like the ghoul is directly looking at your face as you moan for Lucy to drive inside of you faster. A burning, dangerous anger fills her and before it can disturb your lovemaking further, Lucy quickly drives her gun and shoots it in the head, the last brain matter left spilling on the floor. You are for her eyes only, not anyone else's.

You're startled for a moment when the gunshot echoing in the room, but as your lover continues to move against you you relax, feeling that tingling inside your head get stronger and stronger, until you finally come undone on Lucy, screaming your pleasure for all the wasteland to hear. Lucy follows you shortly, her cum flooding inside of you 'till she is finally spent, falling back onto your body, skin sweaty and breath uneven.

With her remaining strength, she pulls you to rest on your side, her cock still nudged deep within you. You fall asleep shortly after, your limbs feeling like warm butter and your mind mushed. Lucy cuddles next to you, using both yours and her clothes as a makeshift blanket, the only protection from the freezing night of the Mojave's desert. Unlike you, she cannot sleep, too preoccupied with being on alert if something else shows up. At around three am, she finally lets herself relax and falls asleep, nestled in with you. As your chest falls and rises with every breath you take, Lucy feels safe, compelled to protect you at all costs.

It's not long until dawn, and how will she deal with you when you'll wake up, straining at the strings of her heart?

[ominoose]

𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐬 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫-𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞

Summary: Random drabble's about Steven Grant meeting other Oscar Isaac characters. No Marc or Jake co-concious, only referenced. Characters: Basil Stitt, Leto Atreides, Poe Dameron A/N: This randomly hit me and I wanted to write it because it was funny. Used a spinny wheel for it. Also idk if BB-8 can do that but now he can.

London was it's usual muggy, busy self as Steven ran down the street, hoping to catch the bus to work. It had been hard enough to get a job after the Museum Incident, but maintaining a position was proving to be a much harder endeavor between his abnormal sleeping patterns and head mates.

"Oi! Wait, please!" Steven was within touching distance just as the bus sped off, and at the lack of anything to rest his weight on or break his fall, the man found himself tumbling face first into traffic.

☽ 𝐁𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐭 (Lightningface)

+ When Steven first wakes up in the apartment, his first thought is that he's woken up in a bomb site. The apartment is a mess, furniture and clothes strewn everywhere haphazardly. He's momentarily glad Marc isn't replying in his head, knowing the American would have an aneurysm over the state of the place.

+ Basil is the one to find Steven, jumping up from his spot on the couch and staring at him like he's an alien. The first thought in his mind is that Ricky the Monkey did some crazy magic and brought a clone to replace him. Poor Steven barely has a chance to process the situation before he's trying to calm his scarred, other American look alike down and explain his situation. Nothing manages to convince Basil there isn't some magic going on here, but he stops viewing Steven as an evil replacement.

+ After the initial shock and awkward introductions, they manage to sit down and chat for a few minutes. Basil shares the story of the lightning strike, insisting that its imbued him with magical powers. Steven, bless his heart, immediately believes this and boasts about his own moon powers too.

"You know, I've always wanted to try jumping off the roof and flying, have you done that?"

"Oh no, my mate Marc usually handles that, but maybe we can practice together? Have you got a suit as well?"

"Yeah, it's this paper bag and bed sheet I fixed up myself! C'mon, I have a stool on the balcony-"

"Wait, hang about.... Actually, mate, on second thoughts, lets not."

+ Steven ends up convincing Basil to properly fix his apartment, not just brush away the broken shards and dust. So that's what they do for a while, busying themselves as they theorize on how to get Steven back home with only a handful of brain cells between them. Basil listens with surprising intensity when Steven ends up branching off into Egyptology tangents, and likewise Steven nods along when Basil brings up all the documentaries he'd watched recently. In the end, the apartment does end up in much better shape, and the pair become quite chummy.

"Damn. Thanks for the help... Maybe I did overreact a bit."

"Yeah, it's no problem bruvs, it happens. Surprised the doctors didn't give you anymore meds, though I suppose over here its not like the NHS."

"Oh, no I didn't go to the hospital."

"...You wot?!"

𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 (Dune)

+ Coming to on hot, sandy slabs is enough of a trigger point to Steven Grant as they come. Coming to on hot, sandy slabs with weird astronauts in suits pointing space guns at him goes beyond frighting and circles back into 'Shit yourself' territory. Thankfully they seem to speak English. Unfortunately, his high pitched screams and babbling British noises don't make sense to them while they peer down their guns at him with confusion. It isn't until a booming voice draws everyone's attention that Steven gets a chance to breath.

+ Said breath is swiftly knocked back out of Stevens lungs when a wiser, nobler and older version of him walks into the room, commanding the attention of every single space soldier in the room. The man stares down at him as he lays huddled on the ground, curled into himself, and quirks a single well groomed eyebrow at him.

"I am Duke Leto of House Atreides. You have penetrated your way into my home. Who are you?"

"I-I-I'm S-Steven Grant. Of the... Giftshop."

The Duke continues his stony stare at Steven for a few seconds longer before holding out a calloused hand.

"Well Steven of the Giftshop, I think we both have many questions for one another, and hopefully some answers."

+ When Steven finally gets over being starstruck at the dignified, royal version of himself, and when Leto makes the accidental mistake of mentioning that they're billions of years in the future on another planet, Steven freaks out, having a 10 minute long panic attack. When that's over he geeks out instead, asking a million questions about technology, using apologies as commas and full stops.

"Do people still know about Khonshu in this era?!"

"I'm afraid I am not familiar with that name."

"Lucky sod."

+ Leto thinks the strange, weird sounding clone of himself is a schizophrenic long lost cousin, but at lease he isn't trying to kill him over a title. It's not as common in Arrakis, or the general noble courts, to find someone as earnest, honest and willing to learn as Steven seems to be, which earns him a surprising amount of respect from the Duke.

𝐏𝐨𝐞 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 (Star Wars)

+ Waking up in a space ship that's doing somersaults mid-battle while dodging and weaving around beams trying to explode it out of the sky was almost as stressful as waking up on a London bus at 8am. Commendably, Steven didn't scream or cry, but simply had a silent panic attack until a rolling white and orange ball started beeping at him, or rather the ridiculously handsome version of him currently flying the plane.

"Who the hell are you and how did you get on my cruiser?!"

"Bloody hell, not another handsome American me!"

"What?! BB-8, check for a concussion!"

+ After being given a water bottle by the polite little droid, Steven finally managed to calm himself down by the time the ship touch down and the pilot in matching droid colours sprang before him, launching question after question. When he clocked Stevens face, he was speechless, brows slowly knitting over his eyes as he tried to make sense of what was in front of him. Mid stare-down BB-8 nicked the Brits skin, running a quick diagnostic test and beeping the results out to the pilot who's eyebrows swiftly un-knitted at the noises.

+ Taking advantage of the silence, Steven tries to explain himself and his situation, insisting he comes in peace and simply wanted to get home before Donna got another excuse to give him the sack. The pilot finally introduced himself as Poe, the best pilot in the resistance at that, and with a sigh he promised to try and figure out how to get Steven back to whatever galaxy London was from.

+ Poe tries to explain the resistance and the empire to Steven, who in turn compares it to Ammits cult and jointly rants about those who take choice and freedom from the innocent. Poe is happy enough that his weird blood ancestor is with the resistance, even if he does constantly regard him with a quirked eyebrow, wondering how in the universe he managed to evolve from this walking concussion. For a second time Poe is rendered silent as Steven mentions being Moonknight.

"Oh yeah, I've done that too, at least those Jedi blokes doesn't send their jackals after you though!"

"You've... fought? In battle?"

"Course, yeah. Fought off giant gods back to the underworld, stopped the day of reckoning as the souls of the living were flooding the underworld. It was just the other day actually."

"...You killed god?!"

+ Steven absolutely adores BB-8 and Leia, a feeling the bot and all of the resistance seem to happily return, much to the dismay of Poe. Steven's quite flustered from all the attention and questions, leaving Poe to drag him away in a huff, claiming they need to get back to figuring out how to send him home. It feels like a babysitting gig more than anything, but deep down it strokes Poe's ego when Steven ooh's and ahh's at all his resistance tales.

[wisteriaiswriting]

Hello! i really love your writing!! Could i have a romantic matchup for tf2 please?

im 5'6 and chubby but i also look kinda skinny when i stand up (not enough chub ig). i have medium length brown hair and im really pale, i have brown eyes and a lot of beauty marks across my body. My native language is portuguese.

i draw often, i like the colors and drawing characters from the fandoms im into, im also a beginner writer, i mostly do short romantic stuff and im really self concious of it. If i had a partner id definitely write/draw cute stuff with us.

i also really like music, a big hobby of mine is just sitting and listening.And i daydream a LOT, im spaced out often.

im an introvert,usually my reaction to strangers talking to me is to be closed off, like short answers and stuff so it comes off as rude.

im VERY quiet,the few times i think of smt to say i spend too much time thinking and lose my chance lol. i want to get better at talking,specifically for my interests, im always too uncomfortable and my voice only comes out as a whisper. i stutter and i snort when i laugh.

but knowing someone for longer/being in the same space as them, i act more weird(like going up to them when im bored and just stare,ask a random question,give them a kiss then leave, just to do it again a few mins later).Also when im comfortable its easy to talk back and be sarcastic, which is my go to.and jokes.

i get overstimulated with loud noises but only in places that "should be quiet"(my brain made that up) so in the battlefield ill be just fine but if i hear the same thing in the kitchen u could kill someone.basically just outside loud and inside quiet.im also short tempered of someone wakes me up just as im about to sleep, since i have trouble sleeping

im sorry if its too long i hope thats okay!!thank you in advance!!! <3<3

I match you with...

Heavy!!

He definitely doesn’t mind you being chubby, and if you’re okay with it he’ll make meals and feed you.

During those late nights or lazy days, he’ll try find all if not most and mentally connect, even using a finger to trace to each one.

It’s likely your english is better than his, so that's one way to communicate. But he wouldn’t mind teaching you some Russian or being taught some portuguese.

Definitely keeps all the drawings you give him, especially the ones of you two.

Silently melts if he found out you wrote anything about you two.

When you daydream he’s more than willing to hang around, continuing with his day while staying with you.

He can understand your reactions to strangers talking to you, as he comes across like that as well. (But like, who tries to talk to him.)

Tries his best to help you talking, starts off by letting you talk to him all you want.

Doesn’t mind you becoming weirder, calmly answers your questions and happily takes his kiss before you go. More than happy to repeat the process.

He might not get your sarcasm sometimes, so you might need to explain it, but he does get better over time.

Understands the whole loud noise and overstimulated topic, so he tries his best to help you there. Trying to get rid of the problem as quickly as possible.

Sleeping with him will be much easier, as barely anyone dares to mess with Heavy especially when he is tired.

Points!

Heavy - 7

Pyro - 5

Spy - 5

Medic - 4

Sniper - 3

Miss Pauling - 3

Scout - 3

Engi - 3

Saxton - 2

Soldier - 1

Demo - 1

[teitpp]

9, 14, 15? ✨

Thank you for the Asks!

9. Write a recommendation of someone else's fic you enjoyed!

@theredheadedcaptain finished her long fic Celestial Storms almost exactly 1 year ago. This was the story that made me first fall in love with her story telling.

It's a beautiful post Endgame J/C romance with a robust ensemble cast (and some thoroughly engaging original characters!) It follows J/C through a new mission, an encounter with old enemies, and introduces a well handled interpersonal conflict that speaks to class tensions between former Maquis and other edge-of-the-Federation characters and the Earth-centric human Starfleet characters. In short I loved everything about it. The action and adventure, the political undertones and social commentary and the romance - omg the romance! It is a can't miss long fic!

14. Is there a character or ship you were so sure you would never write/draw but now you've changed your mind?

I struggled conceptualizing Seven of Nine when I first started writing Voyager fic. She seemed like a canonical mess of contradictions - first because of how the costuming objectified her in an extremely uncomfortable way - and then how the narrative really didnt deal well with how it must have felt being sexualized - by crewmates and her doctor and aliens - having just barely left the borg where her body was something that was probably only conceptualized in strictly functional terms (its own kind of objectification). All of her voyager era romance plotlines really squicked me for a long time (dont let me fall into my Doctor/Seven rant 😆)

And then two things happened.

(1) Picard came out and Seven had a queer romantic arc with Raffi.

(2) I met my wife, who had been a neurodivergent closeted teen in a much more social-norms-concious community than I'd grown up in, talking to me about how shed intensely studied and tried to emulate traditionally feminine things and had boyfriends as a way to "fit in" without actually knowing how it was supposed to feel

And suddenly a lot of things that never used to click with me about Seven - confusion about attraction and dating and insistence on performing heteronormatic romantic gestures as if dating was some essential part of being an individual - all of those offputting sexist storylines from the Voyager era looked a lot more like queer and neurodivergent coded behaviors.

And then Seven became a lot more intriguing and understandable to me on rewatches (Queer and Neurodiverent being neither of the things the original 90s character creators probably indented when they stuck her in the catsuit and had the Doctor give her social lessons)  And shes now become a lot more fun to write now that I have an interpretation of her that jives with me.

15. Have you noticed your style change over time?

I dont know if i could pin point any one thing. but its like... I enjoy my own writing a lot more in the past 3-4 years than I did before. i feel more confident about it. A lot of that was rebuilding a writing community around me on discord (losing the in person one I had in college had me floundering for a while) and the second part was finding a planning process that worked for me - ive become a lot more confident that i can outline an idea, put it in a drawer and know that i can pick it up a few weeks or months later and have a solid blueprint for how to write that story.

Ive also gotten more concise and more conscious of a story's scope (i can finish a long fic in about 80-90k rather than 200k). And ive also gotten a lot more comfortable with the creative ebb and flow i tend to go through. just generally a lot more confident and comfortable with my craft. i know thats not the specific question but its definitely had a positive impact on my overall storytelling too.

[vongulli]

I have only seen froslyn now but immediately so captivated with her vibe and gotta say I think her design has such a good silhouette if that makes any sense? the design is so so so satisfying and stylistically done it feels just exaggerated enough to have such a specific body shape while still following "rules" and just ooogh so in love with that super tall/slender look. absolutely fantastic design holy heck

AWW THANK YOU!!! I never really think about stuff too much when i make designs- moreso i just go with the feel/theme i have in my head

that means a lot!! I dont know like.. 'art rules' a lot (i've been working on my regular-human anatomy/proportions ever since getting into jojo so i feel like i've got so much to learn!) but i just do what i think looks fun haha!! you're makin' me feel all competent lmao, its very sweet!!

[legendofmorons]

To protect a wolf (Twilight)

Pairing: Twilight x reader -pre relationship

Rating: T for language and some blood

Summary: While Twilight is incapacitated, you step up to protect him. Obviously, he realizes he loves you at the worst time. But you both take care of each other after.

Warnings: Some blood, some fighting, cursing

Other: Let me know if I missed anything

-------

This dungeon might actually kill him. Twilight can barely think straight he hurts so much.

And you're with him - you need his help. He can't just quit.

But you're in the final room facing down the boss. And Twilight's barely able to move.

His leg is broken in at least three places. He's pretty sure the world shouldn't be spotty, and he is bleeding out of his ribs.

And to top it all off? It's a water dungeon.

The boss is large, a squid like creature that seems to spit poison ink. There's a weak spot - an eye atop its head.

Always with the eyes.

Fuck his life.

"(Y/n)." He tries.

"Shut up." You hiss, drawing attention to yourself by smacking your sword and shield together.

He really can't do anything but trust to roll out of the way of attacks. He just wants to keep you safe- but he can't even decide which quickly blurring version of you is real.

He hears the fight, sword slashing and shield clanging. He heard movement and curses.

Feels the air move with you and the boss.

He can hear you taunt it.

He hears it fall as you attack it.

He hears the intimidating roar as it gets up.

He can't see shit-

But he hears it all.

He hears your curse and wince as something cracks.

He hears you take some new injury.

He even hears the snarling curse as you drive something into the beast.

He bets you still look so beautiful. You always do.

What is he doing thinking about that?

You're in danger-

"Die you bitch!" Yoir voice cuts through his thoughts.

Well, you're still alive. That's very good. He'd hate to lose you before he told you he loved you.

Wait-

Fuck.

This new information is not helpful at all. It's also not surprising.

The sound fades out as you fight the boss, time lost to him.

He doesn't know how long has passed when he opens his eyes again... when did he close them?

"Twi... Link?" You call, kneeling in front of him.

"Hm?"

"I'm going to have to carry you out. I don't have any healing items."

"I can walk-"

"Bullshit. You could barely roll over. I'm going to carry you."

"Bu' 'm too hea'y." He slurs out.

"You're really not." You say, relying on your own farm life spent wrestling goats, cows, and horses to the ground when needed.

He just groans.

You move so your kneeling on one knee, the othe in front of you.

He groans louder as you slide your arms under him. One around his shoulders and one under his knees.

"Shhh, I got you Twi. It's okay."

"'m sorry." He manages.

"Don't be." You say quickly, standing and pulling him off the ground with you.

You hold him close to you, straining under his weight. He's pure muscle. You don't know why you thought you could carry him on a broken ankle without issue.

But you have to get hum out. Thank god for adrenaline.

If Twilight were even slightly more aware, he'd demand you leave and come back for him. You're bleeding profusely from your stomach. Along with other places.

You walk, carrying him and your all's things out of the dungeon, wincing every other step.

He's concious but only just.

You walk to camp - each step feeling like you're being punished.

The others see you and rush forwards.

"What happened?!"

"Twilight is hurt. You gotta help him."

"You're hurt too." Legend says.

"Not bad." You say, obviously unaware of how injured you are.

Time takes Twilight from you, moving him so he's laying on the ground just so.

Hyrule releases a fairy over Twilight first. Then he starts in with healing magic.

"Is the world supposed to turn black?" You ask, feeling a lot weaker with no notice.

Time turns to you, "What-"

You collapse as your ears start to ring. You probably should have paid more attention to your own condition. Whoops.

.......

Twilight wakes up with a mouth like the desert and a pounding headache- but he's alive and well. Mostly.

He looks around, finding Hyrule and Wild nearby- but you're not in his sight.

"Where’s-" he summons spit to swallow to wet his mouth, "Where’s (Y/n)?"

Hyrule turns, looking relived to see the wolf shifter awake. "Hey, how do you feel?"

"Where's (Y/n)?" Twilight asks again, more impatient.

"They're resting at an inn. With both of you having lost a lot of blood, old man decided we'd need to stay in an inn for a bit. "Legend says from behind Wild.

"Why ain't we there?"

"Your leg needed to heal all the way before we moved you. They - well, they needed a bed."

"They're hur'?"

"Yeah. They are. But they're better now."

"Take me t' 'em." Twilight says, pushing to sit up.

"Okay. Just wait - Wild's almost done with the hearty stew."

"Don't care, I needta make sure-"

"Twilight. "Sky says gently, "They worked hard to keep you safe, don't insult them by being stubborn and refusing a recovery aid."

"I-" Twilight doesn't known what to say to that.

"Good."

He trusts the boys. He really does!

But after his realization and you taking care of him- he just needs to see you as soon as he can.

He needs to make sure you're okay.

He also needs to figure out how in the name of Ordona to tell you he loves you. But he's way more concerned with your health.

Especially since you woukd have gotten hurt protecting him.

Oh... he really fucked up-

"They aren't mad." Legend says from his spot, "I know they aren't a hero like us- but they can hold their own."

"They shouldn'a had t'. I shoulda protected 'em better."

Legend makes a face that suggests he'd rather talk to a praticularly stubborn wall than trying to convince Twilight of anything right now.

.......

You wake up to Time fretting over you. His muttering is unnerving paired with the face of grim acceptance.

"Where’s- Where’s Twi?" You ask, looking around and not finding him.

This does nothing to slow your racing heart, finding only Time with you and some dull inn decorating.

"He's at camp. He'll be here shortly."

"Is he okay?"

"Yeah, he's okay."

"Good. I hate squid."

Time snorts at that, seeming relived that you're well enough to be bitter.

"You gave all of us a scare, looked dead when you came to camp, and then collapsed."

"Oh... Whoops."

"You have to be more careful-"

"Twilight would have died. I am not gonna let someone die just cause I'm hurt too!"

"I'm not saying otherwise. I'm just telling you to be more careful."

"Okay. But- is Twi really-"

The door opens with a bang, an exhumed Twilight in the doorway who lets out a breath of air when he sees ypu.

"(Y/n)."

"Twi!"

You try to sit up only to grunt and fall back into bed.

"Stay down," Time says, "You're gonna be sore for a while."

"Yer okay." Twilight breathes out, walking over to sit on the bed beside you. "I'm sorry I shoulda protected ya-"

"Don't start that." You manage, "You were really hurt."

"The others said ya were too."

"I could walk. You couldn't. It's nothing. "

"(Y/n)." Twilight says sharper than he usually does, "Ya put yaself in dange' for me. Please don't ac' like I couldn'a done things differen'ly."

"Twi... I know. It definitely could have gone better. It could have been worse, too."

"Yeah."

"I'm really glad you're okay "

Time stands, stretching up, "You're staying in this room too, Twilight. I figured you'd both want to be near eachother. "

"Thank you." You say to Time.

"Seriously though, be careful, (Y/n)."

Twilight has to agree with his mentor.

You just sigh, trying not to move too much. "Okay."

"Good. I'm going to check on dinner plans." Time says before leaving and shutting the door behind him.

Twilight just let's out a breath, "I was worried... when I woke up, ya weren' there."

"I know. I felt the same way."

"I'm sure." Twilight says, not sure how to tell you that he actually doubts that.

Becuase you obviously care for him but how could you love him back?

"Twiligh- Link." You say, the use of his name making him look up quickly.

"Yeah?"

"Don't beat yourself up. Everyone gets hurt."

"I'm s'pose'ta protect ya though."

"Why?" You ask, feeling hurt already at the implications of the statement. "I may not be a hero but I can hold my own!"

"It's not tha'... It's jus'-" he takes a moment.

How does he tell you that he needs to protect you becuase you are someone he loves. That he loves you romantically. With his whole heart?

You stare, waiting for him to continue and really hoping he has a reason that's not just him being a chosen hero.

Twilight sighs, he might as well just tell you. He can't lie for anything- not to you at least... and a lie woukd just confuse you more.

"'Cause I love ya, (Y/n). 'N I don't eva' wanna see ya hurt."

You choke a little, suprised and touched. That's definitely a better reason than be Hylia's chosen hero.

"'N I don't 'xpect ya t' feel the same -"

"I do. I do feel the same."

"What?"

"I love you too. Have for a whole now- though typically you confess with flowers and not while someone is in bed looking like shit."

"Ya look beautiful. "

"You're very biased."

"Yeah."

You smile at him, and while you definitely hurt, you feel better than you did when you passed out. And hey, you might just get a boyfriend out of this.

"We should talk about this more later Twi, but can- you just stay with me?"

"Of course. Can I do anything t' make ya hurt less?"

"No... I'm probably going to fall asleep again soon honestly. I feel like I was run over by a heard of wild horses."

"Ouch. I'm sorry, Darlin'."

You giggle, "I like that name."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

[smallestapplin]

Can I please request a Brassius x female, chubby and short (5'1") but very very big chested Reader?

They are in a relationship since a while but Brassius takes it slowly for he thinks that reader is a shy person and self-concious for she is only ever seen in baggy shirts.

One day Brassius downright begs her to nude model for him for a portrait, to get her out of her shell.

Reader may be quiet but neither shy nor self-concious, she just didn't wanted to overwhelm her love this fast with what is hidden under her shirt.

But when Brassius begs her so sweetly, how can she deny his request?

It's up to you how spicy it becomes, but I hope for burning spicy (>///<)

Thank you very much in advance! ❤️

- Anon Germany

I hope you enjoy this! ^^;

🔞18+Only!🔞 MDNI🔞

Cw : fem afab reader, some groping.

-

-

-

Brassius never had any issues with how you dressed, you express yourself however you wish! You are still his beloved, and he understands you just want to be comfortable. You’ve never acted shy, but he knows looks can be deceiving and never pushed the topic. Until now, that is.

“My Dear, please, let me paint you. You are my muse, and it would be an honor to draw your bare beauty in its rawest form.”

In the year he’s dated you, he’s never seen you without a jacket on, and he’d never pressure you out of your comfort zone, but what’s the harm in asking? By the stars, he’s glad he asked.

Brassius had no doubt you were stunning, but watching you easily strip with such grace, being graced with such a glorious sight of your bare body as you sit on a bar stool in his art room.

“Like this?”

You don’t care, but you’ve never posed like this before and have no idea what to do. He’s almost horrified you’d think this was it!

“Oh goodness no, let me get a better setup for you”

You stand there as the green-haired man runs around the room, pushing a very nice 19th-century daybed.

“Please, lay across this.” Brassius directs you how to lay, lent back on your side with your left arm under your large breast and resting on your right side, and your right arm up and behind the pillow you are elevated against.

Being naked like this isn’t what’s making you want to squirm, nor the cold air making your nipples pebble, but the hungry way Brassius looks at you.

Every glance he gives lingers across your chest.

You don’t mind, but it’s making you feel hot. Your thighs clench, rubbing together trying to ease the slowly building heat.

“Don’t move yet, my sweet.”

The dark desired filled look he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. You hold your pose, but can’t stop the occasional trembling, not with that heated gaze.

Brassius sighs, running his fingers through his hair before stepping away from his sketch, and towards you.

“Are you stiff? We can take a break if you’d like, as I’d like to truly capture your essence.”

You shake your head, avoiding eye contact.

“I’m fine, hon, honest.”

He doesn’t believe you.

You look at him as he kneels in front of you, his rough hands slowly sliding from your thick thighs, up the pudge of your stomach. He pauses for a moment, squeezing your love handles, before continuing up the sides of your chest.

“You truly are a goddess. They have made paintings, worshipping you, making sure such beauty would be preserved for generations to see.”

You can feel your face burning as you avert your gaze.

“B-Brassius, you don’t-“

“Shh, let me worship my goddess.”

Your breathing shakes as his thumbs rub over your nipples before gently squeezing the soft, supple skin of your tits.

“Such a stunning figure you’ve kept hidden from me, so much to love, such a stunning sight that simply must be shared!”

You lightly arch your back, keening as he pinches your nipples, lightly tugging on them. Brassius can feel the drool pooling in his mouth, watching your body jiggle and squirm from his touch.

“Please, let me worship you. Allow me just a taste.”

You lean your head back, panting, listening to his voice low in your ear.

“I am nothing but a devoted worshipper, a devoted follower. addicted to you like you're the finest ambrosia.”

A whimper escapes your lips, feelings his hard cock pressing against your thighs.

And with how he begs, with how he touches you, how could you say no?

[fucked-up-beyond-repair]

I didn't plan to post my art yet as I am not happy about my drawing skills yet, but @adeptalec inspired me to make this. Hopefully I can color my art one day like them.

I also wrote a story for it, which turned out super long...

_________________________________________________________

Due to being a werewolf Neal has suffered from motion sickness his entire life. His sister Annie was definitely mocking him by choosing a cruise ship for the family vacation.

To make it worse she had also chosen the seafood menu for lunch. He normally hated seafood, but he had been so hungry after skipping breakfast he ate more than he should.

Now he was clutching the railing with one hand, and covering his mouth with the other. The cold fatty shrimp hadn't settled at all and was now sloshing wildy in his stomach. He barely managed to stagger out of the resturant due to the rocking of the ship. Each step threatened to bring up his lunch as he burped the aftertaste of soda and shrimp salad.

It was even worse outside. The salty stench of the sea made him even more nauseous. The ship's movement was stronger out here and he could feel his stomach content flip back and fourth along with the ship.

He had to swallow down the increasing salvia. It made him terribly nauseous, but he wanted to avoid throwing up if he could. Unlike his sister he had never been that great at controlling his abilities. Doing something strenuous like throwing up tends to make him involunteerly transform. He was already self concious about being a huge beast. Transforming on a human dominated area would lead to a lot of unwanted attension.

By now he had to remove his hand and let the excessive salvia drip down to the ocean. He was panting heavily, switching between taking deep breaths and swallowing down the lumps of acid lingering in his throat.

He didn't notice his sister had joined him until he felt the nauseating smell of a greasy hot dog. He almost lost it then and there. He immediately clasped his hand hand over his mouth again and fought down a gag.

"Wow little brother. I didn't know your face could get even paler. In fact it looks a bit green, are you feeling well?"

She bloody knew he wasn't! Despite also being canine, although not a werewolf, but a kitsune, she never suffered any drawbacks.

"Ngh, I'm fin-", he was cut off by his body doing a heave as vomit puffed out his cheeks. He had to press both hands above his lips to swallow it back down. He felt the texture of whole undigested shrimp coated in cheese and mayo dressing. It made him more nauseous than ever and he knew it woudn't take long before it would be brought back up again.

"You should just throw up. It will make you feel better", his sister pointed out while still waving the smelly hot dog in his face.

"I am- ugh, not- urp, sick", he managed to spit out between burps.

What a stupid brother she thought. He obviously needed to throw up.

"Neal are you sure you are not sick, you kinda look like when we were on that car trip. You know the one where you ate all those hot dogs and we had to stop all the time so you could bring up those chunky, stuffy onion cheese hot dogs"

If he could he would have turned around and promptly proceeded to spew all over his sister, but he had no time for that as the vomit shot up his throat and leaked through his fingers. Wave after wave of a thick white mixture of today's awful lunch partly fell down the railing and partly on his shoes.

He knew he had to compose himself. However he barely had time to take a breath between each heave before the next wave of vomting.

This was bad. He could feel his stomach shift, and it was not because of seasickness. He felt so weak he fell down on his knees onto the small puddle of vomit by the railing while feeling his body contract as he transformed into a wolf.

He had forgotten that seasickness was somehow even worse in this form. His wolf stomach was also not happy with his choice of biscuits and tea for snacks earlier. He coudn't even lean over the railing now to save his dignity, he was stuck bringing up the rest of his stomach content on the deck on all fours. His dignity was pretty much gone now anyways as people had flocked towards him in awe and started filming. He felt too sick to care. He still felt nauseous after giving back the shrimps to the ocean. The only thing he could do now was sticking out his tongue like a dog as salvia pooled in his mouth.

Luckily the trip was only going to last two more days...Thanks dear sister.

_______________________________________________

I didn't plan for it to be the intro fic for my werewolf boy Neal and his sister, but now it is.

I have more fics and characters that I may post soon if anyone at all liked this.

[lizartgurl]

The doors opened without fanfare, though with the loud creaking noises they made, fanfare was unnecessary. Anakin held his wife's hand tightly as they crossed the threshold. The door shut ominously behind them, dousing the musty halls in darkness.

His breath shook as the familiar stench of Gamorreans and sentient waste penetrated his nose. Had it really been twenty years since he was last here? He had dreamed of never setting foot in here again.

He had been furious when Artoo alerted him of what the twins had gotten themselves into. He knew they were determined to rescue Solo, but did they have to dive in headfirst without a plan?

Padme had just smiled at him on the flight to his homeplanet.

"They take after you, you know."

He had taken a while to really understand what that meant.

Padme adjusted her scarf to cover her face and mask the smell, and Anakin spied the first set of guards. The thick-headed gamorreans flashed their vibro-axes at the intruders, and with a wave of Anakin's hand, they were choking on air.

"Where are my children?" He demanded, though it was unlikely they would answer. He didn't care. His children were in danger, and he was going to rescue them at whatever cost.

"E chu ta!" Huttese echoed down the hall, and Padme drew her blaster at Bib Fortuna. Twenty years and she was still the fastest draw in the galaxy.

"Take us to Jabba. now." She demanded. When Anakin looked at her he could almost hear her voice echo through the Senate Rotunda, carrying every bit of queenly grandeur as she had when he first met her.

The pale twi'lek took a moment to think it over, his lek twitching nervously.

"To tak to Jabba now." He nodded, and quickly turned heel back to the throne room.

Padme glanced at Anakin, but she didn't sheathe her blaster. Anakin squeezed her hand, and they followed Fortuna deeper into Jabba's Citadel. sometimes, aggressive negotiations were just as effective as a Jedi mind trick or two.

Fortuna had them wait in the center of the throne room, amidst the piles of barely-concious bodies too hungover for the good of their waste-processing organs. Fortuna tapped his master on the shoulder quite vigorously, and once Anakin pulled his hood down did Threepio recognize him, standing beside the giant slug like a shiny golden trophy.

"At last! Master Ani's come to rescue me! And Mistress Padme!"

Jabba growled at Fortuna's decision to wake him, and took a moment for his vision to adjust as the rest of his entourage began to stir.

"Greetings, mighty Jabba." Padme started with tension in her throat. They had agreed that she would do the negotiating. Anakin harbored far too many emotions for things to go smoothly.

"I am Padme Amidala of Naboo. This is my husband, General Anakin Skywalker." Gasps echoed through the room. Anakin had no small reputation, and certainly a Hutt's memory wasn't so short that his goons had all forgotten the Jedi who rescued Jabba's son.

Padme continued, though Jabba could hardly process what she was saying through his hangover.

"We will be taking Captain Solo and his friends. I warn you not to interfere." She held her head high.

Jabba chuckled, and spoke in a long string of huttese. Padme had to wait for Threepio's translation, but Anakin understood it perfectly, and it fanned the flame of white-hot anger in his stomach.

Threepio tittered nervously, caught between two masters. "The Mighty Jabba reminds you that you are Senator of a Republic that fell twenty-two standard revolutions ago. Your threats hold no weight here."

Anakin's mechanical hand twitched towards the saber at his belt, but Padme caught his hand with hers.

"Be that as it may, we have powerful allies even now. Do you truly think you can keep the children of General Skywalker contained in your meager dungeon?"

Jabba laughed, encouraging his menagerie to do the same. "a Jedi without his sword is useless," He waved his hand to the wall. A rectangular alcove was carved where Anakin assumed Han hung while frozen in carbonite, and now, displayed in the spotlight, were his children's lightsabers.

They had scavenged and saved and bled for his children to have the parts that they needed to make those; he had been so proud of the day Leia finally beat him in combat (Luke had distracted him, but still). For Jabba to have such weapons in his possession was like owning a piece of their soul and putting it on display.

Anakin shook his head to keep from vomitting all over Jabba's throne. He normally wouldn't much care, but he needed his wits about him to be able to save his children.

Padme nodded, and Anakin ignited his saber. The blue glow sent screams rippling through the room as he leveled it at one of Jabba's many chins.

And just like that, the wall of the throne room caved in. The two lightsabers flew across the room as a hand shot out of the dust cloud to retrieve it.

"I tried to warn you, Jabba," twin blades of blue and green sprung to life alongside Anakin's as the twins of Skywalker made themselves known.

"You should have bargained."

[aziraphales-library]

Can you recommend some fics whit body worship where crowley is self concious about his body and then gets that nice treatment?

Here are some Crowley body worship fics for you!...

The Written Word by Blueroses_23 & joy_shines (M)

Aziraphale and Crowley try something new, with an artistic flair, in the effort to help Crowley manage his raging self-loathing issues.

Predisposed by slamncram (T)

Six thousand years wasn't enough to prepare Aziraphale for the beauty of this realization. That was a little bit of a setback, certainly, but he was willing to make the most of it.

Scales And Gold And Wings And Stars by die_traumerei (T)

Happily retired to the South Downs, Crowley and Aziraphale take a day's holiday to go swimming and picnicking. And to see each other's true earthly corporations for the first time, angel marks and scales and all. A great deal of love and body-worship inevitably follows.

Rubenesque by Lurlur (E)

Aziraphale and Crowley are getting down to it at last.

Crowley thinks that Aziraphale is the most perfect being to ever walk the earth. In contrast, he thinks that he's a barely held together collection of matchsticks.

Mirror, Mirror by OneofWebs (E)

It all started with a scale that Crowley thought nothing of. It flicked right off, like a scab, and life went back to normal. The problem arose when the scale came back. When the scales came back, and it's all Crowley can do to hide himself before Aziraphale sees what he really is. Aziraphale can claim to love a demon, but how could he say that, in truth, when faced with what the demon looks like?

The Poet’s Eye by HolyCatsAndRabbits (E)

(Note that Aziraphale is called Ambrose in this fic)

Ambrose watched Crowley stir into wakefulness just after the sun had fully risen. Ambrose was wearing a robe, sitting at the desk in his bedroom, scribbling out lines and phrases and sketches, trying to somehow capture Crowley on paper.

Ambrose had never recited poetry during sex before, let alone written poetry while holding someone in his arms. He had, on occasion, stayed up all night frantically filling a notebook with ideas. Just not while staring at the man who’d fucked him the night before until he’d seen stars and all manner of other visions.

Ambrose realized what had happened around three a.m., when he was in the middle of a series of drawings focusing on the line of Crowley’s neck as it curved up from his shoulder and then met the pillow. Ambrose had fallen into using "the poet’s eye" during sex, and he was still using it now, unable to stop seeing Crowley as a living work of art. It was the way he’d first glimpsed Crowley in the park, and here, with the beautiful firefighter lying naked in his bed, Ambrose was filling notebooks about him. The poor man had become his muse.

- Mod D

[babiesdreams]

Hi, can I request an nct (you can do Ot23 or a specific unit, that's up to you!) reaction to you self harming? 👉👈🥺 If you don't want to write it, that's ok, of course ❤️❤️ Thank you!!!

I can. But as I always say, please if you feel represented by this, get help, reach out to someone to talk about this issues and remember that there’s always an option. Feel free to message me and find this blog as your safe zone. Everyone’s welcome in here.

Self harm +18 (Because of the topic, not sexual things involved) Ot23

Warnings: Mentions of blood, self harm, mental issues, angsty stuff.

Taeyong 🌹 :  He notices before it’s too late. He knows the process you normally go through before doing it, so when he notices, he quickly stops you. He gets you out of the bathroom and talks to you, calming you down with his words, trying to make sense of his and your messy thoughts. He reminds you how much time you’ve been without doing it and how he’s proud of you. 

Taeil 🌕 : His eyes can’t get off your hand, holding a sharp pair of scissors, looking at how blood comes out from your recently cutted skin. Tears fall down his cheeks, as he stays still, unable to move a single muscle. “How... I-” His stutter makes you drop the scissors onto the floor. You start crying along with him, regretting absolutely everything. Taeil’s mind is stuck in a “What did I do wrong?” mindset for a while, thinking he should have done more. 

Johnny 🐱 : He screams as soon as he sees you “Stop!” You can basically hear his heart breaking, and that kills you. “I- I-” You try to explain yourself, but there isn’t really an explanation to your habit, so you stutter, not knowing what to say or do. “You don’t need to say anything, I’m here, everything will be alright okay?” He hugs you for a long time and makes sure you never get to that stent again.

Yuta 🐙 : “Why is your... What happened?” He doesn’t quite understand at first, as it’s something he never pictured you to be doing, ever. You have to explain everything to him, calmed down and as racionally as you possibly can, and he’ll be cuddling you for a long while. 

Kun 🐻 : “What’s this?” He asks brushing over your recent scars. You can’t hold back your tears while explaining what you were doing. He listens to you patiently, trying to calm you down as much as he can. He comforts you and makees sure you get the help you need.

Doyoung 🐰 : You are the one who tells him. “Why would you...” He tries speak his mind but prefers to keep some things to himself to avoid hurting you. “Just know you can trust in me okay? Everytime you feel like doing it come to me and we’ll talk, just... Don’t ever do it again please” 

Ten 🐱 : “What are these bruises babe? Did someone harm you?” You felt ridiculous, how were you gonna explain to him that you were basically beating yourself up? How are you supposed to explain that? “I- um” After you explain him the situation he would get concerned about your behaviours, even if you didn’t think it was that important, it’s still a form of self harm. “You need to get help before this get worse. Even if I’m here, you need a professional”

Jaehyun 🍑 : “We need to talk” His serious tone has you wishing he won’t break up with you or something like that, but when he brings up the topic, you wish you were death, under the ground, just not there. You get how it’s something important to talk about, but it’s also embarrassing to feel exposed like that. “I’m not judging you babe, I’m just worried because you’re not seeing a problem in here”

Winwin 🐥 : He’s sad about it, but he hides it so damn well. He keeps calm and stays serious, in ways you never seen him before, but when you’re not watching he cries rivers. The simple thought of losing you is just too much for him and he can’t hold back tears. 

Jungwoo 🐶 : You let the overall fall into the ground, revealing your naked body, along with your scars and cuts. You never felt so exposed in your life, but you were also happy it was him you showed it to. “I’m glad you decided to stop doing it and being so brave to show me baby, just thank you for trusting me” 

Lucas 🦁 : Drops the bags he was holding and runs towards you. “What did you- Baby, no- Stop this has to stop. What do you need? Whatever it is I’ll get it for you just don’t please-” He’s so heartbroken. You’re everything for him and seeing you at your lowest just breaks him.

Mark 🐆 : “No hey, hey stop” He says when you start crying out of nowhere. “What happened? Tough day?” You shake your head, not knowing how to bring the conversation up. “I-” You simply say, showu¡ing him your recent cuts, starting to heal. “What’s wrong? Why didn′t you talk to me baby? Were you scared of my reaction?” You simply nod and hug him, letting your feelings explode suddenly. “Just, We’ll get some help for you okay?” 

Xiaojun 🦕 : “I know I can seem cold, but don’t you trust me enough for this baby? I wouldn’t even judge you, I just wanna help you. Will you let me?” His words get you feeling even more emotional, as if you were doing something wrong. “I will, trust you Xiaojun, it’s just, I’ve never told anyone before and..” You are not able to finish your sentence before you burst into tears. “I’ts alright sweetie” He says hugging you tightly.

Hendery 🐴 : Asks you a lot about it. “Why did you do it? But when did you get that thought? Can I do something to help?” He’s truly helpless but the way he tries makes you feel better about it. He makes you realize you do need help, and proffessional one, people who will understand it even better than you. And his cuddles just brush the pain away.

Renjun 🦊 : He’s worried about your health in general, as you barely eat, don’t take care of yourself and basically sleep all day long. He’s concious of the risks of this kind of live, and it makes him wonder how far it could go. He basically talks it out with you and helps you get back to your normal self. It’s a tough path but having him besides you makes it better. 

Jeno 🐶 : “Okay, first let’s get bandaids, and then we’ll talk okay?” He takes care of your injuries, keeping his calmed nature. “There’s nothing to worry about baby, this will never happen again, because I’m here okay?” You nod, still frowning uncontrollably. “Come here” He says pulling you into a hug. “Calm down okay? calm down” He whispers while drawing patterns on your neck.

Haechan 🐻 : Silence feels the room, as both of your eyes look at each other. The intense exchange is really scary to you. He’s just too broken and the fact that you did it with your own actions, kills you inside. “I can explain-” You say. But the tears falling down the boy’s cheeks stop you from talking anymore.  “Never again please” are the only words he’s able to say while you embrace him. “I promise” You whisper in his ear. “Pinky promise?” He asks and you nod, repeating his words. “Pinky promise”

Jaemin 🐰 :  You were sleeping on his chest and, in between carresses he finds out some recent scars on your skin. At first he’s terrified, not knowing what to do. But after searching for info on the internet he decides to confront you. He makes a whole plan on how to tell you, gives you different phones from mental health clinics nearby, buys you chocolate and all your favourite snacks and tries to make some positive memories out of it, to give you some hope about your future.

Yangyang 🐑 : “You said you needed to talk?” He asks scared. You nod at him and try to keep calm as you expose your concerns and alarming recent behaviours. “I just thought you needed to know..” He nods, still processing your words. “You know I’ll be here, no matter what happens, so don’t be ashamed or reserved about your feelings okay? I won’t judge you” 

Shotaro 🦦 : You talk to him, why you’ve been hiding your body lately, why you felt so bad, so not you, so ugly and terrible. And even if he gets upset by the words you use to describe yourself, he tries his best to understand your feelings. “I also feel like that sometimes Y/n but this is not the way. Please just don’t ever do it again”

Chenle 🐬 : “Did you burn your hand cooking something?” He asks and you inmediately start sweating. It’s not how people usually see self harm so it was easier to lie about it, but why would you lie to him? So after a long time thinking, you tell him about it, making sure he understands your concerns and why you did it and everything. He tries his best to get your point but recommends you to talk it out with a professional rather than himself.

Sungchan 🦌 : “Okay so you’re not eating, barely do anything, hide yourself from the world and you want me to think you’re fine? I’m not stupid Y/n, you can trust me you know?” You look at him in the eyes and sigh, knowing he’s right. “Okay, but it’s not that important...” He would be hugging you the whole time.

Jisung 🐹 :  He’s shaking, scared of what he’s seeing. He can’t belive you did that. He can’t believe he didn’t notice before. He blames himself for hours, there’s no way he did the right thing. He was supposed to be your support and instead he didn’t notice you were harming yourself. “I’m so sorry baby” He would say before hugging you.

——————————————————————

Masterlist –requests open– How to request?  Check out your score.

[t3nd0u]

magic - kuroken

warnings: mention of drug use (lsd), peer pressure (mild but still there!!), bad trip (mentions of depression, anxiety, bad thoughts)

word count: 1k

“Kuroo, I promise one trip isn’t going to hurt you. I’ve been doing this shit for months and I’m fine.” Kenma slurred, head hanging off of the worn-down bed.

Kuroo glanced around the pair’s shared apartment, the city lights barely shining through a makeshift curtain Kenma had put onto the windows only days before. The air was sour and there was a pile of clothes clumped into a corner of the room.

“I really don’t know. I trust you, but what if something goes wrong? I’ve seen countless stories of people that had bad tr-” Kuroo’s words were cut off as the smaller, blonde boy through a pillow from across the room.

“C’mon Kuroo, It’s no fun when I have to do this alone”

The black haired boy glanced around him once last time, lit up by various strands of red, blue, and purple LED lights. Kenma had insisted on buying them when they first moved in. Kuroo whined in protest when they were first brought up as an option for room decoration, but he slowly began to love them after he saw the way they made the blonde in Kenma’s hair light up, the way the colors hit changing at the slightest tilt of a head.

Wait.

If Kenma was so sure Kuroo would enjoy trying LSD, who is Kuroo to doubt him? Every other time he had suggested something it had turned out perfect, why would this be any different?

“I’ll do it. Just tonight.”

Kenma smiled, slowly rolling off the bed. He walked over to Kuroo and gripped his jaw, forcing his mouth open.

“Stick out your tongue.” Kenma replied, his voice still staying gentle and soft like it had been since the pair were kids.

Kuroo let his tongue roll out of his mouth, and the smaller boy swiftly placed a square piece of paper in the center, a picture of a strawberry coating the drug. Kenma backed away from his friend’s mouth, flashing a quick smile before opening a small cabinet in the hallway leading out of the pair’s room.

Kenma held up two Nintendo Switch controllers, throwing one into Kuroo’s lap while walking back into the room.

“You should start to feel it in 20 minutes, 15 for me. Wanna game until them?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” The hazel-eyed boy stared up at the smaller boy now standing in front of him. He hated himself for letting Kenma get involved with drugs. He always swore that he would keep the younger boy healthy and safe, but somehow he had let Kenma slip away from his grasp for a second too long, eventually having to pull him out of a small alleyway, his limp body slowly rolling onto the older boy.

“You kind of suck at Mario Kart, Kuroo. This is the fifth game in a row that you’ve gotten below 10th place.”

“Oh, yeah I guess I’m just not on top of my game today.” Kuroo managed to slur out, his head slowly becoming heavier than he remembered, and hey was the room always spinning like this?

“Oh shit, you’re finally starting to feel it, huh? It’s nice right?”

It wasn’t. Kuroo felt like the walls were closing in on him, he wasn’t able to take a grasp at reality. The small lamp sitting on the nightstand began to take a new form, the walls growing eyes and spinning around.

This isn’t what Kenma told him it would be like.

In a panic, the golden-eyed boy rushed over to Kuroo, waving an arm by his eyes trying to find some way to ground the shaking boy in front of him”

“Kenma, Kenma I-” Kuroo slowly brought his knees up to his chest and let himself fall onto the cold, hardwood floor. His breathing began to speed up as darkness slowly began to cloud his peripheral vision. He released his arms from the tight hold they had around his knees, and frantically began searching for his friend for some, any reassurance that he was okay, that he was in reality and not stuck inside of his own head.

Slowly his hearing began to fade, he could no longer make out the voice around him and succumbed to the voice inside his head. He felt helpless, every word his concious spat at him bound him tighter, squeezing him until he felt like his body would give in on itself at any moment. 

Kenma tried his best to comfort Kuroo, but he couldn’t find a way to bring him back to reality. He needed a way to show Kuroo that he was there and that he wasnt letting go, no matter what. Kenma’s small arms began to wrap around Kuroo’s frame, embracing him. He laid the tall boy’s head on his chest, letting him hear the sound of the quiet boy’s breathing and heartbeat, a signal that Kenma hoped would remind him that he was okay, and that he can get out of his head if he found a way to calm down.

Kuroo slowly began to recognize the warmth around him, nuzzling his head further into Kenma’s chest, tears spilling down both of their slender faces. Slowly, Kenma began to rock the two boys back and forth, he had seen Kuroo do it when he was feeling anxious, and assumed it was a comfort thing for him.

“I- Kenma. I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Kuroo slowly let the words fall from his tongue, unaware of what he was saying.

“Shh. This is my fault. I shouldn’t have gotten you to try this when you weren’t mentally prepared for it. I’m so sorry. You’re okay, I promise. I won’t leave your side until you feel like you’ll be okay on your own.”

Kenma moved his slender hands to draw circles into the jacket of the boy curled up against his chest. A sigh of relief could be heard from the both of them.

It was getting late, and Kenma had began to settle down from the high he was feeling. He peeled the half-asleep Kuroo away from his chest, and slowly carried them both to Kenma’s bed. He layed Kuroo down near the wall and quietly climbed in beside him. His hands reached around Kuroo’s frame again, holding him tight as they both started to fall asleep.

[chocolate-parfait]

Congratulations on the 300! I see you do matchups?! (I really hope this is the right inbox, I'm still new to this) Could you do one for me (Mixed matchup IkeVamp, IkeSen)? INFP-A, like drawing, cooking, reading, writing, languages (translator to be), sarcasm, traveling, dogs. Don't like unnecessary drama, people disturbing my peace. I'm straigt forward and don't like but can be very confrontational but that rarely happens (no one wants to witness this). Unpaid therapist of all my friends. Thx!

Thank you, sweetie! Hope you enjoy~

I match you up with... Dazai!

Dazai is one of the few people in the mansion who enjoys his peace and tranquility, so aside some teasing and clowning here and there he won't be causing too much of a ruckus (unless Ai-chan is involved~)

Your relationship with Dazai evolves pretty slowly. From two acquaintances who exchanged basic greetings and made small talk every now and then, you slowly became friends who chill together while quietly enjoying the other's company, only to turn into a deeper relationship after various syntomps typical syntomps of the phenomenology of love took root in your hearts. Despite a comfortably unhurried evolution and what some may deem as just fleeting and superficial attraction, your feelings are actually genuine and strong. You and Dazai were able to find the perfect balance that not many couples are able to achieve; neither of you forces the other into something they don't want to do, and you can safely call the each other out without fear of hurting or offending, confident in the mutual respect and understanding you both have of the other

You can spend hours sitting together side by side in complete silence, only the ticking of a clock or a little bird outside comfortably filling the background. You read a book and he writes his newest novel or vice versa. Sometimes it's just one snuggling against the other in search of warmth and affection. It's extremely domestic and Dazai literally LIVES for it

Your romance falls into a steady routine that gives Dazai the impression of leading a completely normal life, just like any other man, finally free from all the doubts and sorrows that used to torment him back in his human days. As if the constancy of such lifestyle wasn't enough, he's also got you to fix up whatever trouble may pass through his golden orbs. You're always there to hear and help him out, and you're also the main reason why he was able to break free from his self destructive mentality, and knowing that you can live a happy, safe life just by being with him brings him ungodly amounts of joy.

One particular night you two had a semi-fight. During that period Dazai was already pretty much always on edge, despite concealing it pretty well behind his usual smile, but when the moon is high in the sky people are more vulnerable, and his remorse and self hatred all came flowing out at once. He absolutely didn't expect your reaction. For the first time ever since you arrived at the mansion, he saw fire burning in your moonlit pupils. Your usual serene tone slightly lowered to a much more aggressive and harsh pitch as countless words came out of your pretty lips. With each sentence you destroyed every one of his qualms just like a knight would cut down his enemies to save his princess. By the end of your discussion he was shocked and amazed to find how you had literally flipped everything upside down and gave him much to think about. A new perspective, things he ignored too much and others he cared too much about. After that night Dazai's usual behavior changed considerably towards you. You could now clearly feel the genuineness behind his smiles and gazes, the softness in his voice and movements when addressed to you. It was the spark that ignited the flames of your love.

Your favorite dates vary from strolls around the city to him teaching you Japanese. He has never taught a language to anyone before, but by having such a receptive student as you makes his heart swell with pride and he wants to try harder for your sake! He's actually on cloud nine ever since you asked him to teach you his native language. The fact that you want to get to know his country and a big part of him better means a lot to him, and it does nothing but strengthen his love for you

Dazai loves animals!! So even without pleading too much he'll agree on adopting a dog if you want one. He's going to take great care of it and you will often see him petting him while quietly babbling on various topics as if the poor creature could understand him

Second choice: Mitsunari

As the resident angel of Azuchi becoming friends with him was no difficult task, as he already trusted you with his life the moment you became a part of the Oda Forces. Additionally, he truly admires your kindness and care for others, so much that he can't help but happily praise you with the biggest smile on his face. Barely even a week passes and you already find yourself watching after him as you remind him to eat, sleep and maybe even breathe. Hideyoshi is extremely grateful as he finally can take it easier and not worry too much about the young man (he still does nonetheless, trust me)

On your part, hating Mitsunari is basically impossible, and even though your sarcastic retorts completely fly over his head (in return you gain Ieyasu's sympathy), spending time with him becomes the most natural thing in the world. Before you know it, you find yourself looking forward to being with him and your heartbeat confirms your suspicions. You may or may not have fallen in love with someone from the Sengoku period and the realization is a scary one. What will happen to your family and friends back home? And what about your dream job? But then that handsome smile, those vivid amethyst eyes full of tenderness, that soft voice that caressed your ears leaving pink warmth on your skin; it all came crashing down on you, leaving no other room for doubts.

If and when you confess him about your past and what had brought you to Honnoji that fateful night, you'll see the fires of an incredible passion taking ahold of his usually placid irises. He cannot fully explain with words the endless facets of what he's feeling, but he'll lock your hands in a tight grip and earnestly try to let out as much as he can. He vows eternal gratitude to you, the one who gave up everything for him, he who does not deserve such loyalty but decides to live up to the sacrifice you made. This new side of Mitsunari renews the love you felt for him, and at the end of his speech, in order to seal such an important promise, he kisses you on the lips, fiery and passionate

Everything escalates from there, and anyone in the castle can see how much close you two got in the blink of an eye. The moment you announce your relationship you get submerged from congratulatory blessings and gifts, even from a very grumpy Ieyasu who doesn't let this opportunity to slip in an ironic comment here and there

You may have given up on everything you had, but Ishida has no intention of making you regret choosing him over the rest of the world. If you're vocal and direct enough about your needs and wishes, he'll try to spoil you rotten at the best of his abilities. Your feet hurts? He's going to carry you bridal style to your bedroom to give you a two hours long massage. Headache? He's already in town with Hideyoshi to buy the best infuses for your head. He's very dedicated and it's very surprising to see him so active and attentive. If he starts getting too overwhelming the only choice you'll have is to explicitly tell him to tone it down a notch or two (please give him cuddles later, baby boy just wants to help)

Knowing about your love for travel, he makes sure to take you with him each time an inspection in a domain comes up, though he'll firmly refuse in case he deemed it to be dangerous. If something were to happen to you right in front of his eyes, he'd blame himself for 500 years and even more for not being able to save you. This is actually one of his biggest worries and from time to time he'll have related nightmares that cause him to wake up with a start, soaked in cold sweat. Take him in your arms, snuggle against his chest or cradle his head against your beating heart and most of the job will be done. If you happen to be concious enough and hear him out, console him with firm words of reassurance, press a kiss to his lips and he's going to be out like a candle in no time at all

Mitsunari is fascinated by the foreign languages you speak! You must have put a lot of time to learn all those exotic-sounding words, and he asks you to teach him a word or two. He's a fast learner and his brain has plenty of space to store whatever you say to him, and although he might cutely stumble every now and then, you're pretty surprised at the enthusiasm he's showing for your passion. He's going to take you to the tenshu to discuss with Nobunaga about a possible occupation involved with languages, and in no time at all you're already on your way to Nagasaki to discuss some deals with European and Asian merchants

[withinkandquill-a]

“I’m here- I’m here, now” (From @Let-Her-Mind-Wonder)

Don Juan Triumphant had been a disaster of the highest quality. Of course, he had expected this to some degree. He had heard the plans the Vicomte de Chagny had so foolish announced in the midst of the Opera Ghost's domain and he had seen the armed men beside him in the boxes and the crowd before he had even stepped foot on that stage. What he had not expected, however, was for those utter baffoons to actually be successful. He and Christine had not even made it up onto the construct above where he had planned to add a surprise touch to his own score, a small ballad that surpassed the realm of his characters to appeal to Christine personally, when the officers actually had the gall to interrupt their duet in the presence of the entire audience.

Erik had a plethora of escape routes already planned, of course, but for once the men seemed to be one step ahead of him, surrounding the stage while his attention had been fixed on the young soprano and the performance they gave. His first action to make his way to the nearest escape route, a trapdoor on the stage that would quickly drop him into the first cellar, had been met with the firing of guns and the sting of a bullet as it ripped through his thigh. The pain and the force of the impact brought him momentarily to his knees, but even as it did, his mind kept moving, his eyes now searching out the machanism that only he knew dropped the seven ton chandelier into the unsuspecting crowd, allowing him to make a quick escape in the chaos.

But he had barely returned to his feet when suddenly they were upon him, their hands grabbed at his arms as he attempted to fight against them, their weapons pointed threateningly his way as they shouted their warnings. Erik did not go easily, his fear of the confinement and eventual death his capture ensured giving him an almost feral air as he struggled against so many men, however, severely outnumbered as he was and without the use of the weapon he had left backstage, still wrapped around Piangi's neck, it was no use. He was forced to his knees again, bound, and unmasked there on the stage and only then did he cease his effort at escape to turn his eyes to the young soprano, taking in her horrified expression as a few officers took it upon themselves to escort her back to the wings. The sight of their hands on her, the hands that held him now, sent a sense of dread rising through him along with the insatiable desire to protect her despite all rational thought assuring him she was quite safe. After all, they had no qualms with the young soprano who had found herself entangled in the monster's diabolical plot.

Moments later, they had pulled him to his feet again, tearing him away from the sight of her as they dragged him from the stage and towards the nearest exit, where several more officers sat waiting. If the simple idea of captivity and confinement filled him with a deep, heavy anxiety then the sight of the caged wagon they would transport him in filled him with utter terror, the kind that you could feel manifest in every inch of your body. It crept into his mind, leaving no room for concious thought. Once more, he struggled futilely to escape but they simply heaved him into the despite. The sound of the lock clinking had been deafening to him despite the volume of the busy streets.

The next week spent within the walls of a crowded city prison was almost every bit as terrifying as the first moments he had spent in their clutches. Locked in a filthy hovel of a cell with only hard boards to sleep on, he found himself subjected to the cruelty and hatred of mankind once more. He had never forgotten what men could be capable of at the mere sight of his face but this was the first time since he had taken up residence below the opera house that he had been forced to endure the jeers and beatings once more. Suddenly, he couldn't help but remember the child he once was, locked helplessly behind the bars of a cage, subjected to the same cruelties, and forced to put his horrid face on display so some greedy, heartless man could earn a few coins.

When at last Christine appeared to him nearly seven days later, or so he guessed from counting the change in the officers shifts, the sound of her voice was like ecstacy, the sight of her akin to the sight of heaven itself. For the first time in days, he looked willingly passed the bars that made his chest constrict until he could no longer draw breath, and stared wide-eyed at that angelic face from the back of the cell where he sat.

"Christine," the single word came shaky, his voice almost hoarse from the lack of its use in this place but still somehow so alluring. He had to be dreaming or hallucinating. Erik had truly believed he would never see her face, never hear her voice, again. He believed he would die in this place without another sight of her. Yet, here she was before him.

[justaghostingon]

Superhero Au Chapter 4: Just Drive

Tori

“I can hear you frowning,” Tori gripped the steering wheel tighter. She didn’t have to turn her head to see Mary’s exasperated smile. “You think this is a bad idea.”

“I didn’t say a word,” Tori replied, keeping her eyes on the road. Out of the corner of her eyes she saw Mary raise an eyebrow, and hurried on. “I know your only acting as you believe is best for the people. But there are safer ways, ways that do not involve you putting yourself in danger.”

Mary let out a long drawn out breath, “I know you’re worried. But i know what I’m doing. And we are taking precautions, I seem to remember someone coming up with most of them,” her eye twinkled as she looked at Tori then grew grave. “But right now there is only one way to contact Simple. And we need him to trust us.”

Tori’s hand gripped her hilt as she met the Mayor’s eye. “We know nothing about him, or his connection to the monsters.”

“Precisely,” Mary nodded her head “We know nothing, our city has been attacked by jellies for almost a week now, and we know nothing about what they are or how to stop them. The only one who knows is Simple and if we have any hope of learning how we need him to trust us enough to explain.”

Tori grit her teeth but didn’t reply as the now familiar arguement was voiced once again. They needed to know what Simple knew; it was just a fact. Tori jerked the car sharply around a corner. But she failed to see why it meant Mary of all people had to go in person to talk to him at monster attacks. Tori would happily go in her place, but Mary seemed convinced she needed to be the one to get through to him.

Someone jumped in the street and Tori slammed on the breaks. She opened her mouth to scream at them, but they didn’t stop, running blindly down the street as if something were chasing them. As the person passed their car, Tori got a glimpse of a blue and black uniform.

“The police told me they had it under control,” Mary frowned as she watched the person pass. “Something is wrong.”

Tori put the car in reverse, gunning the engine and turning the car around. Whatever was wrong it was not the time to find out. Ahead of her she registered more police officers, these ones trying to make a blockade. She cursed, cutting down a side street to avoid the makeshift barrier.

A strange gutteral roar echoed over the city. The road and buildings seemed to shake as something big clawed its way towards them. Tori glanced in the mirror to see a large neck reach around the building, complete with rows of sharp teeth and six eyes.

“That’s new,” Mary’s voice was almost calm. Another head stuck around the side, hissing and hungry. Tori yanked them down another side street.

The ground thundered as the creatures let out another answering cry. For a brief second Tori was reminded of a nature documentary she and Mary had watched, about wolves using howls to coordinate. Her stomach knotted at the thought.

The creature rounded the bend again, head bobbing. How was it keeping up? Tori glanced at the speed dial, she was pushing 80. It shouldn’t be that fast. Jellies weren’t that fast.

‘This isn’t a jelly,’ she thought as it tore away a hanging canopy without stoping. “How many monster’s are there?” She yanked the car right onto a main street.

“Its following us,” Mary said, her hand gripping Tori’s arm urgently.

“I know!” Tori yelled as the creatures heads appeared once more in her rear view.

“No Tori,” Mary’s grip tightened, “It’s following *us!* We need to lead it out of the city before it finds another car to chase!” One of the monsters grabbed a bus station, ripping it from thr ground and throwing it towards them. Tori spun left and dodged it, racing down another side road.

The echo of the angry roar as they escaped once again turned Tori’s veins to ice. If this thing got in a populated area, the people wouldn’t stand a chance. She glanced over at Mary, whose face, though deathly pale, had set is jaw firm. “Where to Madam Mayor?”

“Left,” Mary said, and Tori yanked them left, “and right here,” she paused as the force pulled at her sharply. “There’s an abandoned area near the edge of the city...left!... there should be no one nearby...right!...there!” Mary pointed at a collection of old abandoned buildings directly in front of them.

Tori swung the car in between old warehouses and put it in park. Grabbing Mary’s hand, she ran behind one and started looking for an enterance way. There didn’t seem to be any unlocked, so she shoved Mary behind an old trash bin while she fumbled with the lock.

Without warning, Mary grabbed her, pulling Tori down behind the trash bin. Tori bit back a surprised yelp, but Mary already had her hand over Tori’s mouth, muffling the sounds. In front of the alley she could hear the monsters lumber to a stop. A faint, sniffing sound could be heard, like a dog on the hunt. For a second, all was still. Tori held her breath and felt Mary do the same.

Then Tori heard the crunch of meddle grinding together and saw it go flying across the enterence to the alley they were hiding in, collapsing against another building before finally crashing to the ground. Mary flinched at the sound, her nails digging into Tori’s skin, as the long necked creature began to prowl in front of the back alley’s enterance.

Its movements were slower now, the heads poking around in different directions. But not to far away from each other, and Tori realized with a shock that they were all connected to a single massive beast. It lumbered forward, a single head turned, then another sound caught the ear of another one and it turned the other direction and lumbered away.

For what felt like an endless amount of time but was likely only a few minutes,Tori and Mary stayed utterly still. But the monster did not return. Carefully, Tori pried herself away from Mary. She returned to fiddling with the lock, hyper aware of each slight scraping or light ping. It sprung open.

Tori gently opened the door, beckoning Mary through. It creaked and both flinched before they causiously hurried inside. The space was mostly empty, old equitment haphazardly dumped around the room. Tori closed the door with a careful click and felt a rush of relief. They were safe.

Then Mary screamed.

Tori whirled around to find one of the monster’s heads sticking through a wide open patch in the ceiling. Its face was beared in a snarl as is it reached down towards Mary, helpless before it.

Tori lunged, all concious thought abandoned. All she knew was that Mary was in danger and her body responded in kind, drawing her knife and striking at the soft eyes.

The monster reared back, but Tori wasn’t done. She climbed a latter close beside it to reach the whole in the ceiling. The creature was still thrashing its head side to side in pain, but seemed unable to pull out of the whole in its pain. Tori took a calculated leap, and grabbed at the neck using one hand to hold while the other hacked at the surprisingly soft flesh beneath.

The head came off and landed on the ground, but the neck did not stop thrashing. Mary ran below, arms outstretched to catch her, but Tori doubted she’d be able to make it in time if she fell. She prepared herself for a painful landing.

Then all at once the beast stopped thrashing. A strange blue light seemed to emit from the open wound as the creature slowly pulled itself out of the building, with Tori still clinging to the side. She looked down in shock to see an equally surprised Simple, his hands glowing the same blue as every one of the creatures eyes.

“Are you a sorcerer?” The question slipped out of Tori as she was reminded of the strange glow of the crystal ball a so called ‘practicing witch’ had used to sell fortunes in Crime Alley.

Simple did not bother to respond. Instead eyeing the wounded neck critically. “You cut off its head.”

“I certainty did!” Something in his tone made her bristle. He raised an eyebrow.

“Well in that case,” he stepped away, taking the blue glow with him. “Mind getting the other three?”

Tori cursed as the creature began to thrash again. Some hero! She slid down the neck and onto the back, crawling to each of the neck’s bases and hacking it in turn. On the second head, the tail...which now had a head as well isn’t that just the best?...began lunging at her. She managed to roll out of the way, and swung her knife upwards. It cut through the creatures mouth and into its brain. A stange green substance leaked down onto her as she pulled out the blade.

The creature now had a single head, but seemed to have figured out that she was on its back. It bucked and and screamed, twisting this way and that in an attempt to get her off. She held on for dear life, struggling to get her blade close enough to cut its throat.

The monster began to bash itself against a wall, and Tori let go for fear of being crushed. It didn’t seem to notice. She dodged between its legs until she and it came face to face.

The monster gave one final scream of fury, its teeth bared and eyes wild. Tori smirked back, unimpressed. She’d known teens who went down harder than this creature. For all its bulk and speed, it really didn’t put up much of a fight.

It lunged at her, faster than lightning, but she was faster, stepping to the side and slicing its head clean off. The monster took one final, jerking step like a chicken without a head, then collapsed. A strange green substance began to pour from every open wound, until it covered the creature’s body, melting the corpse into nothing but a pile of sticky green goo.

Tori rounded on Simple, anger replacing adrenaline. “Why the hell did you release it and stand by like a coward?”

Simple was smiling, a strange crooked smile that she wanted to tear off his face. “I didn’t want to steal your kill.” She opened her mouth to swear, but he cut her off, “Now you’ll find killing jellies much easier.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Can you not even make your pathetic excuses make sense?” Tori took a step towards him, knife still out.

“Tori?” Mary’s voice called. Tori whirled around to see her standing in the enterance way, “Tori are you alright?”

Relief filled Tori at the sight of Mary, who looked completely unharmed. Suddenly she felt very tired. “Yes Mary, I’m fine. I killed the monster.”

“Oh how wonderful,” Mary’s smile was warm and genuine. “I’m so glad you’re alright.” She took a step forward, and promptly fainted dead away.

[kaz3313]

Hell is in the Ink Machine

Chapter 3 and not close to being done (this story was originally going to be 5 chapters lol)

@a-rae-of-sunshine thank you for all the support you've given to me and for inspiring to create this!

Also I added a few Ocs that I just meant them to be a one time use kind but I might actually expand on them (and make versions of them out of this AU!)

As always TW violence/gore

(PS I live for reblogs and comments and tags and you can just key smash and it will warm my heart. So thanks to all those that have done any of those things or all of them I appreciate it)

Screaming is never a good sign especially in accordance with Henry’s new violent tendencies.

Wally closes his eyes hearing the screech. He’d made it to a vent and was planning on leaving the place through it. Henry made no attempt to join him, just aimlessly walked away, and for once Wally felt he’d be able to escape.

But that scream...it sounds a lot like Miss. Campbell...how could he leave her if she is in trouble? Wally is the only one Henry wouldn’t attack outright he should stay with him to keep him in line.

 Though why should he? He’s barely twenty-three and he shouldn’t have to babysit a man who in an instant could kill.

The moral dilemma sits in his mind like a stomach full of food poisoning. Susie is one of the nicest people he knew; the two would gossip, eat, and even go shopping together (Both Shawn and Sammy poked fun at him for it. Wearing clothes he knew he could never afford was always fun to him it felt like an adult game of dress up).  When she was new to being a voice actress at the studio Wally would always encourage her. The two even did funny voices together to pass the time on slow days (though Wally half the time only exaggerated his voice). He left Tom and Alison without a second thought and even if neither were hurt he wouldn’t make the same mistake twice. Wally sighs but his mind is already made up.

 Sammy’s vision still is sinking in darkness when he manages to crawl to his office. His body yells in protest as he forces himself to his knees scrambling in one of his drawers. He pulls out an extra pair of pants and shirt he saves in case of an ink leak. Instead of a usual new stain of ink on the old clothes splotches of red show on the grey fabric. His fingers tremble as he attempts to tie both articles to his chest.

The loss of blood finally makes a bigger impact as the world wobbles but Sammy tries to counter it with rhythmic breathing and sheer will. Luckily he’s stubborn enough to stay conscious as he scoots his way to the office phone. He dials the police department’s number but nothing-not even dial tone- answers his call. Suddenly he realizes the lines dead and drops the phone emitting a small whimpering noise. Out of all the days-

His half broken thoughts are interrupted by the scream echoing through the studio. The voice seems so familiar but Sammy can’t place it. Not that he needs to he sends silent empathy to whatever poor soul is caught in line with the axe and the man behind it.

He swallows again not knowing what to do. He assumes either everyone in the art department is dead or unaffected; Henry doesn’t seem to have any in betweens. If there is alive people he could do his best to explain but...well the dead have to use Not only that but Sammy isn’t too sure how long he'll last with the pain he’s forced to endure. Stairs seem unpleasant and time consuming at the moment.

Now he can always travel downward but the chance of encountering Henry again was high. Then again it would be a better chance to find alive people then the animation department.

The exit is in the animation department though he could escape, collapse in the road, and someone may be a kind Samaritan to bring him to the hospital. If he leaves though the studio will be,without warning or mercy, in the hands of Henry.

He closes his eyes to better consideration unknowingly he’d fall under the ever present threat of a restless sleep.

 Shawn hears the scream as clear as day and as much as he’d love to run to be hero he fears he’s too late. Last he knew Susie was I an unsuspecting storage room with shelves to block the door but based on the scream and a gut feeling Shawn guesses she didn’t stay there long.

 He stares at his desk knowing the selfishness of grabbing his stuff in case he needed to leave quickly rather than looking and helping people out beforehand. He reasons with himself that he can’t help anyone if he’s dead as well as reasons that if he has no money he might as well be dead.

A familiar whistle fills his ears as his head pokes up seeing the wandering man in the department. Shawn recognizes him instantly.

Henry; Head to toe he’s covered in dried blood and from lack of apparent wounds Shawn guesses it it’s not his own. He whistles the theme of the cartoon and Shawn remembers he’s the whistler for the theme. That fact does little for him at the moment of the approaching murderer. He quickly shoves himself beneath his desk searching for anything that could be of use to defend himself. All he can find is a sewing needle that he holds like one would hold a pocket knife.

Henry walks slowly and begins to mess with the machines that fill the room. He stuffs then takes out plushies with a mad sort of daze in his eyes. Henry flips switches on and flips them off before turning to the time clock. He repeatedly punches in a time card while muttering phrases under his breath. Although these actions could just seem a little odd Shawn is terrified.

After a few minutes of Henry doing virtually nothing he walks over to Shawn’s desk the Irish man still under. Henry stands staring at Shawn but makes no move toward him. Almost like he can’t see. Shawn breathes out; whatever is in this man’s vision it definitely wasn’t him.

“Don’t even notice me, do ya? You’re in ya own world, ain’t ya? Well at least I’m not there,” Shawn states and Henry tilts his head to the side. “Can ya here me? Do you know where the noise coming fr-“ Shawn feels a pit develop in his stomach as Henry raises his hand. His father always told him not keeping his mouth shut would kill him; Shawn never thought much about the warning.

Henry places a hand on the other’s head and waits. Minutes pass and Shawn feels sweat form on his face. Something more had to happen right? The man is just waiting to kill him? Is he just drawing it out.

Nothing.

Henry leaves; Shawn realizes his opportunity missed but can’t seem to blame himself. There's something otherworldly about the animator. Something that terrifies Shawn even more than anything else.

Screaming and running is a very stereotypical thing for ladies to do but for once Susie decides that it’s not the time to be a groundbreaking women. No, all Susie wants to do is scream and run and cry into Sammy and be held and-

 With all her heart she just wants to be saved and out of this hell. Quickly she finds a large room and barricades herself in breathing heavily. The room she noticies has another glass window and it looks about the same as the last one; why is everything down here so confusing?She sinks to the floor holding her legs to her chest and burying her head in her knees.

“Woah, Boris don’t scare me like that,” Wally jumps just hearing the older man’s voice. He manages a smile out of noticing the twisted irony. He would love to know why he’s always referred to as Boris but hey as long as “You found a weapon buddy?” Henry plucks the pipe Wally has out of his hands.

“That- it’s not yours Henry,” but he just swings it around no desire to give the new item up. “Please, you been calling me buddy and everything. I’ll keep it safe for you,” Even with asking nothing happens and Henry ventures on. Not wanting to leave him too his own devices Wally follows along.

 Henry feels sick to his stomach as he grips the pipe tighter in his hand. The world around him a blend of cartoons and reality. His mind is muddled with memories but a sinking feeling in his chest told him something is off. Something off with the studio closing down, with him leaving, and the ink machine. He couldn’t get his timeline straight but he presses forward hoping an answer would provide itself at the end of his adventure.

His adventure full of ink and horrors no one should live through. At least Boris has joined him; otherwise it would be a rather lonely road.

“Where are you?” These question drifted to his head a few times previously. He was in the hellish Joey Drew Studio in the toy department.

“What are you doing?” Obviously trying to get out; too bad all the falling just lead to his spiral downward.

“Why are you attacking?” The ink creatures were attacking him! He has to defend himself.

“Why have you let your mind succumb to the Ink Machine?” This thought leaves him in a curious wonder. It’s an odd scary thought but something in him resonates with him...but not for long.

They encountered a room full of dead Borises; how horrific.

Wally is forced to see the horrific beginning of the massacre. As soon as he walks in the room full of people he knows bad things are to come. None of them suspected a thing. Wally tries to shout out, a desperate attempt to give them any warning but it was too late. Henry is already coming toward them so without a word Wally swiftly leaves.

Screaming, crying, begging, chaos that Wally decides he won’t experience  experience again. Even if his own mind berates that he’s a coward, at least he’s going to live. A guilty conscious is better than no concious.

Daisy Patch has worked, in the toy department, at Joey Drew Studios for a little over month. It isn’t bad job to say the least nice people, paid enough to provide for herself, and all she has to do is make dolls sometimes even getting the benefit of taking one home when Shawn botches the smiles on them. Her own small smile creeps on her lips thinking of the Irish man. She already knew he wouldn’t be interested in her, well he wasn’t interested in any gal, but a girl could dream. Dream she did and keep all the dolls he gave to her. Daisy always reminded herself that he gave the plushies to everyone, not everyone but anyone who was halfway decent, but the thrill of getting a gift from a crush always gave her the blushes. Or when he greeted her, or when he asked for her to bring some message to another. or when she much delivered his love letters written in Irish to Wally; she read them like they were her own but who wouldn’t?

 Speaking of Wally she just saw him dart out of the room when- her eyes widen as she notices the man covered in blood in the doorway. Her coworker,Stephan, stands up about to say something to the man but he strikes him with a pipe. Stephan shouts and the rest of the toymakers begin to panic. Daisy can’t bring herself to leave her seat and watches the mass of bodies run around like chicken with their heads cut off. Blood man is meticulously striking them down with his blunt tool.

Worker after worker falls; he beats them to unconsciousness and hits them a few more times, whether good measure or insanity Daisy isn't sure. Blood fell to the floor and many people along with it.

Stephan, who's closest to her, lays on the floor unmoving. Blood runs down his face and is matted in his blond hair. Daisy scoots from her chair to the floor beside him.

"Stephan?" She gently pulls at her friend's clothes but he doesn't stirr. He won't stir will he?

Daisy stares at the dead man pondering morality and wondering why she hadn't screamed from this morbid sight. Why she fails to cry; instead she sifts her fingers through his hair not noticing that all her other coworkers have fallen. She doesn't even notice the murderer right behind her. Not until with the pipe connects with the back of her head.