#especially for such a bulky plot

[neesieiumz]

catharsis || ──────── s. aizawa

day five — SOMNOPHILIA / VOICE KINK / DADDY KINK

『 synopsis 』 after a long patrol, your husband comes with an ache only you can sate, only to find you deep in sleep

『 warnings 』 — 18+. sm*t. minors do not interact. husband!aizawa. pro-hero!reader. p*orn with very little plot. that's why it's shorter than my normal fics. established relationship. she is a natural disasters hero. and he has his normal job. somnophilia. voice kink. daddy kink. he is very much in love with you. like borderline obsessed with you. and vice-versa as well. female reader. black-coded reader but anyone can read. he calls you a slut but you enjoy it. sweet aftercare. was this self indulgent? i plead the fifth, how bout that?

『 writers notes 』 honestly feel like i overdid with the daddy kink but here we are! hope you enjoy it and you won't get a new ktober fic until next week tuesday! check the masterlist!

『 word count 』 3.0k

previous fic in ktober | masterlist | next fic in ktober

The night had fallen upon your home before you had known it, the twinkling stars gazing down at you, the full moon’s brightness fully mocking your somnolence. You could no longer stay up for him, no matter how much you tried. You had waited for long before sleep was beginning to overtake your body, and you knew this was another night you’d go without being able to see your husband. 

Your husband was Eraserhead to the world, but at home, he was Shouta to you. Your Shouta. The two of you were heroes, after all, that was how the two of you met. You knew the long nights that came with the job, especially with him being a teacher as well. 

Dressed in a thin two-piece set, in a pale baby blue, you lay on your bed, covered in your warm sheets, with nothing but the sounds of your automated fan blowing cool air into your room, combatting the heated summer night outside. With school out, and your husband only getting a reduced check from his main source of income, he had no choice but to join up in nightly patrols, his main specialty when it comes to hero work. 

The two of you found each other while working patrols late at night, you being a new transfer from a faraway city on the outskirts of Japan, where natural disasters were then likely to occur. 

“Eraserhead, what kind of name is that?” Your smile was wide, contagious even. 

The two of you stood in an alleyway, with him hanging upside down from it, his eyes obscured by the bulky yellow goggles he constantly wore.

“Trust me, I was definitely not the one to make it.” His voice was deep and grave, it slightly echoed through the alley. 

“That means whoever made the name must have been pretty special huh?”

It was silent for a moment, and for a moment, you thought you hit a nerve, anxiety rising within you. 

“Yeah, I guess you can say they were.”

You gleaned up at him, seeing some semblance of a smile on his face. This caused your own smile to widen slightly, standing up straight. 

Your marriage was a private one, one with family and friends only, a short, quiet, and intimate event. The two of you only had a week off for your honeymoon, during the time of which students were out for school to not mess with his schedule. The two of you are extremely busy, with his job as a hero course teacher and of course your own as a rescue and natural disasters hero. The two of you barely had time for each other, easily taking what you could with each other. You knew what came with dating and eventually marrying another hero, especially with someone like your Shouta. 

You lay across the bed, sighing as you relaxed into the comfort of the comforters, onto the softness of the mattress. Closing your eyes, hoping to bring a new day, hopefully with your husband’s arms comfortably snug around your waist. 

— — — —

You heard a squeak first. 

Your eyes barely cracked open, still heavy with sleep, as the squeaking sound got louder and longer for a moment and then stopped altogether. You didn’t move, your heart racing and beating drums within your chest as the sound of muffled footsteps got closer and closer to your bed. You could hear ruffling, like clothes were being moved before the familiar fresh scent of mahogany and lavender, your body relaxing as you did so. You opened your eyes a little bit further, being able to see the clock on your bedside table, seeing the number 2:34 glowing from the digital clock. This was a first, you never woke up when he came home from patrols, you always found yourself being wrapped up in his arms when you woke up in the morning. You tried to find the confines of sleep, hoping to easily slip into it, knowing you’ll wake up in your husband’s arms once more. 

Creaakkk…

His footsteps got closer and closer, his scent slowly gaining intensity as something within went off, like chilling tingles crawling up your spine. You could feel his eyes staring holes into you, possibly scanning your entire form wrapped up in your blankets. A familiar tingling sensation began to erupt and spread through you. It had been months since the last time he touched you, the two of you being completely swamped with work. Suddenly, the bedframe creaked, as you felt the mattress underneath you slightly dip. He was so close to you, his knee grazing up against your back, the blanket being the only thing that kept the two of you lightly touching. Droplets of water, possibly from his shower that he took when you were still deep in sleep, dripped down onto you, feeling the cool, wet spots from your blanket. You kept yourself as still as possible, sleep still dancing in your eyes. And then, all of a sudden, he crouched down, the bed creaking along as he did.

It took all your self-control not to gasp as you felt his erection pressing up against you. Even with the blanket, you could still feel it. You held back the slight gasp out a slight moan as he pushed his hip in between your bottom. He let out a hefty groan, his head falling right beside your own, his lips right next to your ear as he did. You could feel yourself clenching around nothing, feeling yourself beginning to drip down your thighs and stain your thin shorts. All of your self-control was slipping piece by piece, your body aching and wanting for him. Your breathing became shaky, you know he could hear it, and yet he continued his actions. You could feel his lips slowly press up kisses along your cheek and jawline. His nose nestled itself in between your ear and your hairline that peeked from the night-time scarf you wore, before taking a deep breath in, taking your freshly washed scent, your body wash, as well as your nighttime hair products. 

“You smell so good,” his voice wasn't strained, as if he was holding back as well.

“I missed you so much,” he spoke again, the bed creaking again as he moved, his hands beginning to move down, thumbing along the hemline of your shorts.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been here as much, snowflake,” he mumbled in your ear, his hand now officially slipping down into your shorts. 

His fingers slipped in between your legs, two of his fingers easily spreading your lips apart, cool air hitting your clit, causing your body to tremble ever so slightly. Your mouth is slightly agape, drool slowly dripping out of your mouth onto your pillow. His fingers easily spilled into the mess in between your legs, pressing up against your clit. Carefully, he massaged circles into you, every movement slow and deliberate, as if he didn’t want to wake you. He probably didn’t wake you up. You had just gotten home from aiding a beach town devastated by a hurricane, pulling people out from rubble, and creating emergency service tents. 

“I know you just got back, but I…” he trailed off on his words as his fingers slipped further down, sliding in between your labia. 

“I can’t hold myself back, fuck.”

Your husband sounded so pretty, his voice straining every syllable as his hips ground more and more into you. By now, your shorts were a mess, and your underwear soaked with your juices. No longer able to hold yourself back, you softly pushed your hips back against his fingers, and hard-on. He most definitely felt your movements, letting out a massive groan as his dick twitched underneath his boxers. 

“Naughty girl, such a slut even in your sleep…” his chuckle echoed against your bedroom walls, as his fingers dipped in even further, one of them pressing into your hole. 

“Everytime I have to stay away from you, whether it be my job, or your own job, I can feel myself descending into madness–” his words suddenly cut off with a guttural groan, his hips suddenly giving off a sharp thrust.

“I am obsessed with you, you know that right?”

Tears dripped down your eyes, staining your pillows as his words enchanted you, sending great shocks of ecstasy through you. You could feel yourself trembling, only aching for him more and more. His own boxers were sticky with pre-cum, you could feel it oozing onto your satin shorts, slowly mixing in with your own soaked juices. His hand slowly pulled themselves away from your cunt, the sudden loss of pleasure causing your emotions to deflate before feeling that very same hand pulling at the hem of your shorts. You kept as still as possible as his large hands pulled your shorts down around your ankles, revealing your wet pussy. 

“Agh, fuck,” is all he could say as he suddenly sat up for a moment. 

You could hear shuffling in the background, most likely him taking off his boxers, hearing some kind of fabric being thrown in the air and landing on the floor. You felt his hands back on you, before feeling the tip of cock press up against your cunt, slipping and sliding in between your lips, gathering some of your juices. With a final swipe, before you knew it, you felt him press the tip at your pussy, your body trembling as he began to push it. 

“Baby, baby fuck–”

He pushed himself deeper into you, your eyes squeezed shut, your cunt throbbing around him.

“Missed you, missed you so fucking much,”

You had never heard him ramble like that, his usually deep gravelly voice seeped in desperation. His hands gripped at the meat of your thigh, holding your place as he rutted his hips into you. Your lips parted, and the entire area underneath them was drenched with sweat. Your hands tightly squeeze the comforter. The heat was overtaking you, a violent intensity grappling at you. Your thoughts that once ran wild soon became filled with one thought, Shouta. Everything about him was different, the way his voice hit your ears, each syllable easily ripping a new reaction out of you. It was only a matter of time before you lost control before he knew you were awake, feeling everything he was doing to you. 

“My wife, my pretty wife,” he groaned, his hands moving up and about.

“How could I fucking stay away from you?”

With his strength, he moved you about with ease. You no longer lay at your side, but instead, your knees dug into the mattress, your stomach lying against the bed. He pressed his hand against your back, your back arching up against him. He never pulled his cock out of you, staying snug inside you as he positioned you to where he wanted you to be. 

As soon as you were in position, he held no mercy towards you. Pounding away at you, like a man with nothing else to live for at that moment but to ravage you. Tears welled in your eyes as absolute euphoric pleasure took over you, it came as quick as lighting. With the sudden overload on your senses, your control over your actions snapped.

A moan slipped out of your lips, the sound causing him to falter for just a moment. With the wet sound of skin against skin, he leaned down once more, moving his long hair out of his face, finally allowing him to see the tears streaming down your face, your eyes slightly opened, rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape with spit dripping down.

One of Shouta’s hands stayed at your hips while the other suddenly reached down, wrapping around underneath your chin, pulling your body upwards with ease. Your hands propped you up as he pulled your head back, your eyes locking. The position allowed you to see just how frenzied your husband looked. His thick fat cock plunging mg into you, each movement only escalating him more and more.

“How long have you been awake sweetheart? Huh, liked what I was doing to you? Hmm?”

You tried to speak, but the only thing that could slip out of your mouth was pleas if you could even call it that.

“Daddy, Daddy-fuck, it’s too–fuck!” You screeched, gripping at the pillow as your eyes squeezed shut, overcome by the sudden frenzied thrusts your husband was sending your way. 

“Dirty little slut, letting me think you were asleep ? How long were you awake for?”

For a moment, you couldn’t answer him, only focused on the effervescent volcano building up within you. All of a sudden, his thrusts slowed down, causing you to whine as you looked back at his teary eyes. 

“I asked you, how long have you been awake?”

“Since the moment—ahh– you walked in! Since the moment, you walked in, please don’t stop fucking me, Daddy!”

Shouta suddenly pulled all the way out, your cunt only squeezing around the tip of his fat cock, before slamming it back into you, almost hitting and bruising your cervix. Both you and his own moans and groans echoed into the air, mixing together in a beautiful melody. His hand left your chin, your body flopping forward for a couple seconds before suddenly feeling your arms being jerked back. Your moans became scream-like as he grabbed at both of your wrists, suddenly pulling your arms back. 

“Fuck,” he cursed, hissing as he pummeled into you, “so fucking tight–huh, you like the way I fuck you, huh?”

You could barely get any words out, shaking your head vigorously, clenching around him. Every plunge into your cunt devoured you, your husband’s moans and groans had your body trembling. His growls reverberated within your ears, only causing your body to curl in pleasure. 

“I said,” he suddenly cut into your thoughts, your body jerking up even further, “you like the way I fuck you, slut”

“Yes, daddy!”

Shouta’s chuckle was deep, and his thrusts only overwhelmed you even further. You relished in the way your skin took the pain, feeling the bloom and sting tingle all over you. If you could blush, you knew the bottom of your thighs would be blooming red. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth, your eyes rolling out the back of your head. All of a sudden, Shouta dropped your arms, your body flopping, back arching into the bed as his hands gripped at the flesh at your hips and butt. His thrusts became erratic in nature, his already broken-down composure crumbling even further. You could hear his breathy words, soaking in the neediness laced within them. 

“Missed you so fucking much, my wife– my fucking wife.”

“Look so fucking pretty, so fucking senstive f’ me.”

“Missed this pretty fucking pussy, hate how much I have to leave you–fuck!”

Shouta’s body lurched, towering over your own. You could feel his sweat dripping down from his body, falling like light rain into your almost bareback, your thin night-top crumpled up at your bosom. Your hands crumpled up the blankets and sheets underneath you, the feeling of your tongue slightly grazing against the fabric. Your words soon dulled out, the only thing on your tongue was your monas and coherent words putting together the title you called him in bed. You could feel your cunt tightening up around him, like a ticking time bomb going off within you. 

“Such a sweet fucking pussy– fuck–” his body suddenly lunched, the bruising grip he had on your hip tightening. 

Your body convulsed, shaking in his hold as your mind went blank white, tears streaking out of your eyes as your climax ripped out of you, your juices spilling and ripping all over him. 

“Daddy!—”  your final words cut, your voice echoing against the white walls of your room.

With a final grunt, you felt your husband slump over, feeling his dick twitching inside of you, painting your walls white. Soon, the only thing you could hear was the sounds of your heavy breathing, both your and Shouta’s as well. You let out a whimper as you felt him pull out his cock out of you, leaving you with withdrawal. Without him letting go of your hips, your legs fully slumped onto the wet bed. With hands still around you, shrieking as he swept you up from the bed. You held onto him as your husband slowly got off the bed, turning your head to see him slip into your bedroom’s bathroom, using one hand to turn the light on. He placed you on the toilet, before walking to your sink. You couldn't help the soft smile that slowly appeared on your face as you heard the faucet turn on. 

He walked back over with a rag, slowly opening up your legs as you both felt and saw your cum mixed with his, dripping down your inner thigh. He moved the warm rag against your skin, letting out a short gasp as he grazed the rag against your sensitive cunt, cleaning up the main source of the mess. You heard your husband let out a breath of a chuckle, seeing a ghost of a smirk etched on his face. Your soft smile turned abashed as your hand reached up, smacking him slightly on his shoulder. Your brick house of a husband didn’t even flinch from your smack, continuing to clean you up. Soon you could feel nothing but the touch of water on your legs. Once finished, your husband slowly pulled your soaked shorts down the rest of the way, before tossing them into your laundry hamper. With nothing else, he carried you back to the bed. 

The two of you slipped underneath the sheets, his arm easily wrapping your waist as he pulled you close. You had no use of the pillows, using your husband’s naked chest, humming at the warmth that radiated off of his body. Before you knew it, you had laid a soft kiss against the beefy shoulder of your husband, before snuggling back into him. You both heard and felt him move, smiling as you felt a soft pressure against the top of your head, feeling the sensation of lips. With that, you drifted off to sleep, slowly hearing your own husband’s snores echo into her. 

[lightandfellowship]

The Sewer Squad's designs are fine, actually

If you ask me, the Sewer Squad from KHUX are a really great visual example of Kingdom Hearts' approach to writing and design.

That approach being: it's fine to make design and writing decisions that come across as silly, campy, unbelievable, or "cringey" if those choices are meaningful in context and contribute something significant to the story.

On the whole, the Sewer Squad are a mess of character designs. Minus the Leader who just kinda looks like a normal character tbh, the remaining 3/4ths of the group don't look particularly cohesive or even...aesthetically pleasing? At least for me. If you were to judge these designs purely on a visual and technical level, using commonly accepted character design guidelines, I personally don't think they would score very high.

Function has been thrown out the window with their accessories, with a lot of said accessories looking either bulky, heavy, face/movement obstructing, or just plain uncomfortable, despite them presumably fighting Heartless on the daily.

Color palettes are all over the place, especially with the Gummi Girl who's sporting three different hues of pink all conflicting in one design. Themeing is likewise all over the place—using the Gummi Girl once again as an example, she's pairing futuristic Gummi ship wings with a ninja outfit and a modern-looking frog hat. Which like, normally you can marry vastly different themes/time periods together into one character design just fine if you do it well, but here these elements are just kinda pasted all over the design separately with no blending/discussion between them. (Yes I know this makes perfect sense given the lore; I'm getting there.)

And then characters like Fancy Bowtie Boy are wearing gimmick-y clothing pieces based off of canon characters, such as Ansem SoD and...Halloween Town Goofy, for some reason. Which makes the design look derivative and nonsensical. (There's a way to justify this in canon thanks to the Book of Prophecies and the medals, but it's still kinda weird and offputting to see one of the Big Bad's gloves on a silly side character.)

It also doesn't help that their outfits/hair/facial features weren't designed specifically with them in mind, and instead are comprised of various disparate, pre-existing Player assets slapped together haphazardly. And not being able to give these characters more thoughtful, bespoke design elements means losing the opportuntiy to communicate who these characters are more precisely.

They do have recognizable silhouettes though (along with some much needed diversity), so I'll give them credit for that.

But, everything I just said and criticized above? THAT'S ENTIRELY THE POINT, BABY!!!

They're not supposed to represent a typical character with a typical character design that follows typical character design rules because they're not typical "characters"—rather, they're supposed to represent the average, real-life players playing KHUX. The people who buy random outfits with whatever Jewels they have and then mix and match the pieces together regardless of whether or not they actually look "good" together or logically connect. The people who are just having fun with customization.

And this distinction is meaningful because the whole idea behind these characters is that they belong to the same party that the Player belongs to. They're not like Player's other friends such as Ephemer and Skuld who are main characters in the plot and thus require more visually pleasing and thought-out character designs; they're not "generic" NPCs that Player runs into only once or twice like the "my friends aren't my power" guy who can just wear one of the basic default outfits and it'll serve its purpose just fine; they are, specifically, Player's fellow party members. And if the Player themself is wearing a silly costume too, well, they'll just fit right in with the Sewer Squad, won't they?

Thus, they're meant to mirror the visuals and dynamics of real KHUX parties comprised of real people, hopefully making it easier for the person playing the game to relate to them (if said person belongs to a party themself) and intuitively understand the role these characters play in Player's life. And despite how unrealistic their outfits are (considering most of them are running around fighting in outrageous, cumbersome costumes), I would argue that their closer resemblance to the actual playerbase gives them the potential to feel more real, paradoxically.

This also just demonstrates KHUX's commitment to its story and gameplay integration. It doesn't matter how "silly" a gameplay feature might look or feel in practice, it is going to be properly represented in the story regardless. Lux, Guilt, Power Bangles, Spirits, Shift Pride, player costumes, it doesn't matter, if it's a part of the gameplay, it's going in the story somewhere. The game takes a risk and trades a little bit of immersion/suspension of disbelief for pure gameplay and story synergy. Perhaps it doesn't work for everybody, but in general it works for me, and I respect it.

[moonlight-tmd]

Honestly, Idk about those “character suddenly turns into something” cuz it feels off about the whole “plot” aspect but I kinda wanna see Bee becoming a child (I saw your dadimus prime AU and I love it SO MUCH)) and seeing 3 new faces that he definitely does not know

Omg i actually thought about it before.

Like imagine a freak accident with the allspark happens... Sari has been showing her childhood pictures with her dad to the team and Optimus decided to also show them Bee's baby pictures. Bee was very much embarrassed when everyone cooed at how cute and smol he used to be, although he did look a bit unhinged in the first few photos, just staring blankly straight into a camera.

Then came the fun photos, the ones where Bee is clearly enjoying himself like a normal sparkling, Op had few where he caught Bee mid-disassembling some small device saying "And this is where Bee's passion for tinkering began." He had few with himself, with Bee's teacher Arcee- one of the absolute favorites was the one where a young Bee's grinning wider than ever with Ratchet half wrapped in bandages, rolling his optics with a smile. Old docbot had a fair share of babysitting bee in the past and this one was when he was teaching Bee first aid. Sari promptly called him Bee's grandpa which Bee happily agreed.

That whole event made Optimus nostalgic and he spend the rest of his day just looking thru the albums remembering how his bitlet was when he was so tiny. He wished he could go thru that phase once more, to have his tiny little sparkling again just for a day or two...

Well, cue the surprise on his face when an unstable allspark appears and they end up chasing a tiny yellow bitty.

They couldn't contact him after the explosion and saw something skittering away and ended up cornering a tiny sparkling Bee. Bulk, Sari and Prowl were so confused, Prowl wanted to take a closer look but as soon as Bee saw him crouched next to him he started crying.

"SIREE!!" He cried as he ran towards Optimus who just arrived on the scene with Ratchet. He was so stunned he almost missed kneeling down to pick his bitty up for comfort.

So now they are stuck with a way too young Bee and not knowing how to fix this. Optimus obviously fell into the role without issue, no one really seen him be so fatherly with Bee before, except Ratchet of course. It was a little weird to get used to it, Bulkhead was so scared of hurting Bee cuz he was so tiny, smaller than Sari almost. Bee didn't really seem interested in making friends with them saying the only friend he needs is the old stuffed toy Optimus kept and gave him just now.

With time Bee became more social, Bulky was still having some issues with Bee not really liking him but he loved doing paintings with him. Sari was having so much fun cuz Bee was a whole lot more like her, it got especially chaotic when Bee ran up to his sire, Sari in hand and proudly asked if Optimus can adopt her too. It was a tough internal fight for Optimus as he awkwardly explained that Sari already has a dad. They were so disappointed, Sari was all for it, seemingly forgetting she did in fact had a dad of her own.

Ratchet was noticeably less grumpy than usual, Bee often stuck around him when Optimus was busy and always called him "Ratchy". it was quite cute to watch them interact while Ratchet worked.

While it seemed everything was good, during the time Bee was a sparkling it became incredibly obvious Bee was deadly scared of Prowl. They didn't know why, just that when Bee saw him he'd try to hide and if Prowl got close or even held him he'd burst into tears and try to get away. Prowl was so sad, he didn't want Bee to be scared of him, he tried his best to appear as friendly as possible but it had no effect. One time Prowl was supposed to check if Bee was okay and he ended up in a chase with him, trying to get him off the high shelves and counters. They had a little argument with Prowl begging him to stop and that he's a friend. "THEN STOP BEING IN MY NIGHTMARES!!" Bee yelled back and only climber higher, eventually Ratchet got him down but Prowl was stuck feeling like the absolute worst.

Eventually the story made his way back to Optimus and he had a talk with Bee. He admitted that he wasn't having nightmares about Prowl but he still didn't like him. "He's all weird and creepy- and he has no eyes!!" being how Bee described him. He didn't like Prowl, he felt like a total stranger and Bee didn't want to change that. Optimus managed to make Bee go apologize to him, he was right outside the room when Bee got in and saw Prowl feeding the birds under his tree. A small sound gave away his presence and Bee did everything he could not ot flinch when Prowl saw him.

"Uhhmm... I'm sorry for saying you're in my nightmares, you're not..." Bee was visibly nervous but his words were honest, Prowl smiled and accepted the apology, also saying sorry for being so scary to him. He offered to show him how to feed birds when he saw Bee glance at some pigeons descending from the branches, Bee glanced back at Optimus standing behind ajar doors, he gave him a thumbs up and an encouraging smile and Bee agreed. This was the first interaction they had that didn't end up in a disaster, Bee even giggled when the pigeons came to eat out of his little servo.

While all of it was fun and games, they wondered when is it gonna wear off, if at all. Would they be stuck raising Bee all over again? It seemed to answer itself- one day Bee, Sari, Bulk and Prowl were playing knights vs dragon, where Bee and Bulk were knights trying to protect a princess from the dragon. Sari insisted she'd be a dragon instead of a princess so Bee pulled Prowl from his room to be the princess cuz "he's already pretty like a princess" as he put it, making Prowl blush a little. So there they were, Bulky mostly giving advice to Bee on how to "defeat the dragon" while Prowl sat in a makeshift fort build out of big plastic blocks with a fake flowercrown on his head, watching the two wrestle. Sari finally performed the dramatic death act and Bee was so happy he won, they both clapped. Then Sari came out with the whole "the princess must give the hero a kiss for his deeds" tradition and insisted Prowl do it. Bee was somewhat reluctant in that moment but Prowl did it anyway...

In that very moment Bee began to rapidly glow and a small dusty explosion happened. Next thing they know is a full grown Bee sitting up in a way too small knight costume, halfway on Prowl's lap.

He didn't remember anything that happened. They had to tell him all about it, he was so embarrassed. Optimus was glad Bee was back to normal, Sari still made fun of the comedic timing of the thing and said that the kiss undid it all like magic, Prowl obviously didn't believe such things but he couldn't help but feel flustered at the thought.

While things have gone back to normal, all of them couldn't get the image of little Bee out of their head and sometimes still treated him like a sparkling for fun. Also Bee has come to apologize to Prowl again for being so scared of him to which Prowl told him it was fine, sparklings are scared of many things and he was glad he got a chance to befriend little Bee so he wouldn't see him as scary.

[riverbends]

vacillator 18+

[jack abbot x samira mohan]

part one: red zone | mdni | dystopian AU | ao3

tags: explicit sexual content, outdoor oral (m receiving), creepy sex pollen ergo dubcon, horror themes, descriptions of gore (body horror kinda?), dead animals, supernatural/mythological elements, umm porn with plot first wc: 5.6k note: yar i thought it was too gross so i deleted this but thank elise for noticing its absence

She fixed the latch on the cage under the beam of his flashlight with a clean tug. Pencil-thin iron bars encaging the fresh, mangled carcass of a cottontail. The top of the cage remained open to welcome its subject with false sustenance. Sighing, she braced her hands on her knees to rise back up to his level.

“That’s my last one. What a shit way to go,” she said, woefully admiring her work. Main course for the grotesque. “Sucks. She was adorable.”

Jack laughed out his scoff, momentarily shaking the light off the dead animal. “Just be glad you’re not the rabbit.” Samira could only glower at him. He looked to his side, finding her dimly lit frown in the residual glow of the flashlight between them. “What? What did I do this time?”

She shook her head, no longer bothered. Instead, she reached around her bag in search of disinfectant, slathering it on her hands before wiping the excess on her pants. “Aren’t you like fifty?”

“Not yet,” he flicked off the light in spite. Playfully, of course. “What’s my age got to do with anything?”

“Turn it back on,” she gritted, seizing the torch from his grasp when he obeyed. He didn’t usually put up a fight. “Grow up.”

Jack whistled, clean and straight. Amused. “That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Don’t whistle,” Samira snapped over her shoulder. “Bad omens.”

The ground surrendered to the soles of their boots, carrying them through this corner of the Appalachian Mountains with minor struggle. Moonlight fell between the spread of branches, speckling the sea of flora to reflect the night sky. They could see the air catching their breaths in front of them, condensed into sheer little clouds. To protect them from the cold during patrol, they wore long cargo pants and bulky jackets with woollen insides. Carried backpacks weighed with tools and gadgets and food, but not so heavy that it would hold them back in the very likely event where they’d have to break into a sprint at some point. They were lucky there had not yet been such an occasion on duty together.

Samira led on with the torch while Jack grumbled behind her.

“Many people my age still make jokes, we’re not all that bad,” he teased, poking her side.

“Then make better jokes,” she dismissed, stopping momentarily to sidestep the glistening octagon of a spiderweb. He mirrored her movement. “Also, watch your feet.”

“I know, I’m the one who set the traps in this sector,” he said. Sucked his tongue and shook his head, laughably disappointed. If it were up to him, he’d set her right. Show her exactly who she’s talking to. He was almost entirely sure she’d give in as well.

Neither of them bothered to give a name to, let alone acknowledge, whatever had brewed between them when they were first paired up for zone patrol. Maybe his hand would find the small of her back when they treaded over uneven ground, or she’d sit up close to him on their breaks after settling on the forest floor, usually leaning back against a tree trunk. She’d excuse herself and say something about the cold at night, but he’d feel the heat of her body giving her away.

Her elbow digging into his bicep, her thigh slowly creeping up to lay against his as they talked about things he could never really recall because the unspoken insistence of her proximity only had him thinking about one thing. Or many things about one thing. Things he was itching to do to her, even out here in this cursed mountain range in the dead of night. Especially out here.

Wondered if she ever noticed the bulge swelling below his belly whenever she nestled into his side. If she ever raised her thigh a bit higher over his or bent it at some ninety-degree angle in these instances, he could guarantee she’d feel the imprint just under her the side of her knee. Hard and throbbing.

Jack didn’t mind if the lines were blurred. Kept him entertained, really. They were comfortable enough to practically rub up on each other, and comfortable enough to toss banter back and forth. Though, tonight, she seemed a little too tender to the touch. Everything he said appeared to hit a nerve.

Back at the collective, he never fought his attraction to her, only kept it at bay. Still breaking a wild horse in his round pen. But something about this part of the woodlands always had his cock weighing heavier, got him all playful and brazen around her. He knew, though, that it was one of the many dangers of lurking in the mountains. Symptoms, more like. Heightened emotions, hyperactivity, turbulent hormones (elevated libido, in Jack’s case) – just to name a few. Something in the air at these dark hours. Tree branches arching down as if to reach out for them.

It had worsened over time, weaving in and out of their missions together. Assigned to inspect the northern regions of the Appalachians running through Pennsylvania. The dreaded night duty. Though, it was usually alright. The both of them had dealt with far worse in the deep ends of these woods. (The countless horrors that occurred were usually never spoken of more than once. Maybe addressed in a council meeting after the fact. But, for those patrolling the shadows, you were probably better off swallowing down the fear than letting it swallow you).

Strict and sustained protocol warned everybody on duty to be wary of certain zones—namely, red zones. Twelve of the most hazardous plots of forestry, identifiable by the bright red markers on bordering tree trunks—for anything slightly out of the ordinary. Even each other. Samira only knew half as much about the dangers as Jack did and, even then, these woodlands never failed to surprise him.

He was only nineteen when everything changed (Samira liked to remind him she wasn’t even born yet), his father tore him out of bed in the middle of the night and dragged him down the stairs, still half asleep. A cacophony of sirens singing from various speakers outside his house. Around the neighbourhood, around the town. All over the country.

The mutilated bodies were scattered across the streets where people screamed and bolted. At first, he couldn’t even properly panic. A state of pure, razor-edged shock had sliced him clean. Just paralysis. Mouth parted in simple confusion at the pandemonium unfolding before himself and his parents. After all those years, he could still remember the feel of a wet, mushy substance under his bare foot. Fat, swollen tube-like shape.

To his utter horror, he realised he had stepped on somebody’s unspooled intestines. Short, hurried pants shot out from his lungs as he jumped back and clung to his father.

Then, those things. A lone one, several feet away from them. Some fucked-up hybrid crossing itself halfway between a lizard and a dog. The top of its head would’ve been roughly level with his shoulder. Sharp green scales vibrated down its spine; all four legs, long and disgustingly jutted out. A strange coat of some iridescent, slippery substance matting its patches of hair. Oozed past its canines and drooped slowly out of its ugly, open maw to pool on the ground around its disfigured paws. The eyes made his heart stutter.

Hollowed out but still gleaming. Turning. Like somebody had scooped deeper into its sockets and poured bubbling ink into the cavities. He watched them flicker in his direction. The sound that came out of it upon seeing him was a stark warning. A whispered scream, almost as piercing as the sirens.

Had their neighbour not fired his shotgun, Jack and his family would’ve ended up torn and strewn across their front lawn. Instead, hours later, they had returned to find only parts of the man. Shotgun still clutched in his severed hand; his calves ripped to shreds. The rest of him was either lying across the road or churning inside a hot belly.

Evacuation camps and crisis centres were set up in every state for the next three months, all guarded by military personnel and 30-foot walls with active electric fencing. Advised by his father, Jack joined junior combat teams and climbed the ranks within a few years.

After a decade, most camps had been overrun and the population dwindled. A large portion of deaths being a result of those deathly hounds, while the majority had actually been enacted by other unknown creatures that everyone remaining would soon come to learn about in due time. Countless people had also ultimately disappeared without a trace.

No more military, just individual combat and protective services. There were now only a handful of active camps, this one being dubbed the ‘collective’ by its inhabitants. The council was assembled in the early days, remaining one of the main constants since the old world.

Now, Jack had settled. Patrolling was easier on him, almost grounding. When asked why he stepped down from his position of delegate, he’d simply answer that he needed a change of pace. But he’d been meaning to leave the council for years, realising that real concerns were never real priorities. He didn’t want to be part of the reason that the collective fell to pieces in the years to come.

Coinciding with Jack’s withdrawal from the council, Samira had lost her patrol partner on duty. Zones all the way south, where some of the darker things took place. A red zone. She knew she had crossed over, saw the red markers on the bark of tree trunks and took the risk anyway. Not even an hour into patrol, full moon washing over the forest as she trudged through tangled foliage in search of her until she found her flashlight beaming on the ground.

It shone bright upon the girl’s torn head. Eyes wrenched open, frozen in terror. Mouth gaping. Samira felt her stomach lurch like it was ready to make her cough up her dinner. It took everything in her not to outwardly react in a way that drew attention to herself. She just backed away, holding her breath, feeling her insides tense and tighten with dread. Handgun clutched in her palm as she raised it, arms straightened out before her to scan her surroundings. The silencer locked firm in place. Then, that hushed scream and a shadow to her left.

A blur of motion and muffled shots. The strangled whine of the end of a life, and then a heavy thud vibrating the forest floor.

Samira finally breathed, choked out stunted, fractured exhalations. Three of her bullets, softened by the silencer, neatly pierced through its skull and punctured the brain before it had the chance to charge at her. With shaking hands, she reached for her walkie.

“Red zone A12...red. Breached. Red,” she whispered, teeth chattering. “Night patrol down.”

Samira was shortly reassigned to inspect a new sector further north with none other than Jack Abbot, who, for months, could not seem to reel himself in around her.

Maybe it was just the simple fact that he found himself alone with a young woman in the middle of the woodlands two nights every week at a time where unnecessary contact and intimacy in the collective were usually advised against by the council. A lot of things were advised against by the council. Not that he ever cared, though. Being a former delegate still afforded him the privilege of disregard for policy. He had never been one to fall in line anyway. Policy and protocol be damned.

While Jack wrestled with his magnified compulsions behind her, Samira skirted shrubs and burrows like they offended her. She didn’t want to admit how much his earlier comment had stung.

“You’re in a mood tonight,” she broke the silence. “Cockier than usual.”

“And you’re being mean.”

“Hm.”

“But, no, I’m just fed up,” he said. She heard him stopping. “Those things don’t want carcasses, they’re smarter than that. I’ve told the council for years, but they never listen. There’s a reason why people are getting snatched up again.” Samira paused, turned halfway to meet his gaze. The look on his face was more than genuine, and she hated when he was right about things that she hesitated to admit to herself. He was always right. “Living, breathing food - that’s what we are. Traps and bait are pointless, and I know you know that. Predators ravage. You’re executing little bunnies and tying them up with bows for nothing.”

She looked away from him now, jaw clenched tight. Sniffled from the cold. Guilt chewed through his stomach like teeth.

“Kid, I’m sorry,” he stepped closer, voice softer. She stared up at him again, her body still sideways from his. The wounded shimmer in her eyes left him gutted. “I could’ve phrased that better. I know it gets to you.”

As if it were instinct, Jack gently held her jaw to tip her head up, stroking his thumb against her chin. He could’ve kissed her like this.

She would’ve let him, and she was expecting it. Saw the way he struggled to keep his gaze off her lips (and this was not a rare occurrence). Felt his thumb just barely brush underneath. If she tucked in her chin, she could easily take the finger into her mouth. Pull back slowly, make sure he watched close as she traded the thumb for his middle and index. She could make her spit glisten all over his fingers in the glow of the flashlight between them. Right before dropping to her knees—

Jack pulled away before she seized the chance to suck on his thumb, or anything else.

“Rendezvous with John Shen,” he inhaled sharply. John was one of the few who preferred to patrol solo – something else against which the council heavily advised. Groups were usually encouraged to check in on each other throughout the night, both through the walkies and physical meetings. Although, these meetings were more often recreational than cautionary.

“I still don’t get why everyone consistently uses his government name.”

“I don’t get why anyone still refers to the government,” Jack retorted beside her as they resumed their trek.

“False sense of normalcy, maybe,” Samira shrugged, turning the torch in her hand.

“Shit is looong gone,” he droned, brow quirked.

“Right, you remember what they were like?” The teasing smile in her question was audible.

“Jesus Christ, kid, you’re bordering on elder abuse.”

“So, you admit it?” She was having too much fun now and Jack couldn’t complain. No longer acidic, it seemed she was in a slightly better mood now.

“Respect your elders,” he jabbed his index into the curve of her hip, earning a yap and shove from her. “I’ve gotta do something about that mouth of yours.”

Samira felt her face burn hot. She swallowed, recomposing herself.

“You’ve been running yours for the past twenty minutes, sir.”

Jack stopped walking, hands held out. “Are you a fuckin’ tease with John Shen?”

“He’s the tease,” she countered, laughing. “Well, speaking of, where is he?”

A beat, and then another. The sound of trampled twigs snapped their heads to the left before a flat, glowing cylinder of white bounced around the ground and off the trees.

“John,” Samira addressed him, nodding her head.

“John Shen, say John Shen,” Jack goaded, and she waved him off.

The man approached them with his flashlight, panting lightly, “I could hear your asses a mile away. Council’s gonna separate the two of you.”

Two limp, bloodied cottontails hung from his belt by their feet. Samira pouted.

“And pair me with you?” Jack perked, tapping John’s nose, “I’d rather feed myself to the hounds.”

“No skin off my back, baby,” John grinned at him. Cheshire cat leer in the torch glow. “Anyway, what the fuck do you guys do out here? Langdon always says you’re fucking like rabbits, and he sounds more convincing every day.”

Samira shot John a soured look, responding a little too fast: “He says what?”

“Maybe don’t mention the rabbits,” said Jack, hands moving up to hold on to the straps of his backpack, “she’s a bit sore right now.”

“I’m standing right here,” Samira looked back and forth between the men before turning on her heel to continue their zone inspections. They watched after her for a moment before slowly following her lead, John making sure to leave enough distance so that Samira was well enough out of earshot.

“Kid, don’t wander too far,” Jack called out to her, his advice falling on deaf ears. Made a note to himself to keep up with her from here.

“I take it Langdon was right, then,” John teased and Jack shook his head. “If not, that’s a shame. For you. She’s grabbing lunch with me tomorrow.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, Adonis,” said Jack, half amused and half ticked off.

“What, you claim her or something?”

Jack scoffed before lowering his voice a notch, “Shit, she’s not an auction horse.”

“You still remember auctions? How old are you again?” John pressed, smirking. Jack only responded with a short grunt. “Anyway, pussy is scarce, doc. You know how it is.”

“Oh no, it isn’t, junior,” the older man laughed heartily. “Plenty of women in the collective. Last month’s census can attest to that. You’re just an ass.”

“And you’re not?”

John got him there. “Maybe. But I don’t go around scavenging for pussy.”

“Because you don’t have to do a thing for it,” John elbowed him. “Hell, I bet even Mohan’s dying to give it to you.”

There it was again, the feeling that Jack’s cock was stiffening at the mere mention of her.

Needed to sink himself somewhere deep and warm.

He could still see her frame in the distance, lit up by her torchlight. The fat of her ass filling out those dark cargo pants. He cleared his throat.

“You should return to your sector, John Shen. Council would spank us for too much chatter, right?”

John barked out a laugh, “Not if the freaks hiding out in these woods get to us first.” He clapped Jack on the shoulder, taking his leave and disappearing into the night with his own torch.

Mythologically speaking, Jack always thought they should’ve been referred to as chimeras. But ‘hounds’ seemed to have stuck over the decades. Most of the time, they weren’t even the real problem. The hounds were tangible; killable. If you aimed right and well, you were more or less guaranteed to have saved yourself. It was everything else that you had to look out for.

Warning signs in the disguise of sounds, tricks of the light, strange smells. Beautiful distractions. Whispers of pleasure licking up the side of your neck when not a soul was around you. All the things you could only fight with your mind, with your intuition, not through combat or confrontation. You had to be lucky enough to slip out of its hold untouched.

Ahead of him, Samira halted to hit the torch against her palm as the light flickered, threatening to give out on her. She huffed, exasperated, and Jack caught up with her to take a look at it himself.

“Might die,” she said, watching him frown down at the torch in his hands.

“Well,” he hummed, “it seems to be alright for now. A little flickering won’t hold us back. We’ve got the smaller ones anyway.”

“As if they’ll be enough,” she mumbled. “But I don’t get it, I put new batteries in there.”

“Yeah,” he clicked his tongue, weighing their options. “Our break’s coming up, we can work it out then.”

They continued on, neither of them catching sight of the red square marker tagged on the tree to their left.

If he thought he wasn’t losing it before, he was definitely losing it now.

It was a like a hot bolt of lightning cracked the crown of his skull and shot through his body down to his feet every time Samira’s arm brushed against his, every time their sides knocked from walking so close. Every time he heard a breath pass over her lips.

His tip felt leaky in his pants. Eager; ready. Waiting to tuck itself into a something tight and welcoming. Another minute and he was suddenly reaching for her wrist.

“Shit, wait. I need a second.” He winced like he’d just run a marathon. Samira turned to find him slightly hunched over and trying to catch his breath, hand still clamped around her wrist. He let go when she faced him to hold onto his shoulder.

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain?” She angled his face back up to hers, assessing whatever she could just by the look on it. Then, the flashlight died. Samira cursed under her breath and threw it aside. She was about to reach around to grab her mini torch when Jack choked out a pained moan, stepping back and clumsily kneeling on the ground. He shrugged off his bag as he sat back against a tree, feeling like his heart was going to burst in his throat.

Samira crouched down in front of him and situated herself between his bent, outstretched legs. As soon as she rested her hand on his knee, Jack was fully straining through his pants. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have thought all the blood in his body rocketed down to his throbbing dick.

“I…fuck, I don’t know what’s happening,” he panted, sucked air through his teeth like he ate a hot pepper. Samira’s hands stroking at his neck and petting his hair didn’t help either. “It’s my junk.”

They both dropped their eyes to his crotch and his hand had a mind of its own. Samira’s stomach constricted when she watched him palm the bulge between them.

“Fuck,” he muttered, couldn’t help himself. Rubbing his erection through his pants seemed to be the only thing alleviating the ache, and she could only stare, mouth parted and salivating.

“Uh,” her throat bobbed. Jack tipped his head back to rest against the tree. Nothing could tear her eyes away from the way he tried to soothe himself. She licked her lips, almost in preparation. “Do you- um, is there anything I can do?”

That wrenched his head back down. What could she do? Concern was written all over her face when she looked up at him again. The furrow weighing down her brows almost made her look…keen. Desperate to do anything she could to help him.

Give him a hand. Give him a mouth—

He started shaking his head furiously, muttering a hurried string of no’s as he struggled to get on his feet. He stood up against the tree while she rose to balance on her knees.

“Try taking it out,” she blurted, blushing at her own words. “Maybe...I can see if something’s wrong.”

He processed the image of her kneeling on the forest floor, her face level with his clothed hard-on. Peering up at him like it was a plea. He swore he could feel her breath just kissing it through his fly. His mouth dried up. Had to flex his hands at his sides to resist the urge to rub her face against his bulge.

Then, very slowly, he nodded. Only once.

Samira held her breath as his quivering hands fumbled over his button before abruptly yanking the zipper down, overzealous for release. He paused momentarily, watching for any possible change in her expression—any splinter of hesitation—but she just stared at his undone fly. Waiting.

So, he tugged his pants down enough to reveal the wet patch of precum soaking through his underwear. Her cunt throbbed something fierce between her legs, slickening fast. Then, eyes pinned to her face, he finally dragged the waistband down and sprung his cock free. When the cold air hit, he didn’t waste any time curling a hand around himself, breathy moans tumbling out of him as he leaned back against the tree. Sighing and grunting.

Samira was rapt. Completely awe-struck by everything in front of her. Coarse hair under his belly, fringing his shaft. The girth of it, so enticing as he gave himself good, slow pumps. All of his breaths came out stuttered.

As if on cue, bright rays of moonlight crept past the cover of the trees and meandered their way down to shine on the both of them. Everything lit up and neither Jack nor Samira questioned the bizarreness of it. If anything, the abnormal light only encouraged them, showing each other the vulgar act between them with white, glowing clarity.

His slit drooled with pre. Glistened over his swollen tip under the beaming moonlight. She could feel saliva gathering on her tongue, pooling around her teeth. Her sex, clenching around the ghost of something that should be there. But it stared her in the face instead, and Jack felt his brain short-circuit when he noticed her stare back.

I’ve gotta do something about that mouth of yours

“Y’know what, could you put your tongue out for me?” His voice was ragged. Worn. Samira didn’t register his question for a moment, but then her jaw lowered a bit. “Just, yeah. Just for a minute, sweetheart.”

Samira obeyed and he could have cum just from the sight of it alone. Her tongue, pink and outstretched, was patiently waiting for him. Promising Jack with release. Ecstasy. He filtered out every rational thought screaming in his head as he cradled her jaw with his free hand and lightly planted his wet tip on the flat of her tongue. She was looking up at him the whole time.

His knees almost buckled. Her soft tongue with her warm breath fanning his length should’ve taken him out like a light in an instant. He still wasn’t sure how he lasted this long.

And she didn’t know how much longer she could wait. Every fibre of her being willed her to welcome him all the way in, let his tip scrape the walls of her throat. Make him get off inside the hollow of her cheeks.

With no objection from Samira, he tried his best to pace himself, slowly rolling his hips forward to feed her a little more. Nothing could’ve prepared him for the way she closed her mouth around the width of him, just halfway up. She didn’t give him any time to adjust before easing his length all the way in.

The slight cut-off in her airway burned deliciously. She moaned around him, eyes watering.

“Fuck,” he gritted, bracing himself against the tree as her voice vibrated around him. All the sense in him, gone. “I didn’t know,” he said with a pant, feeling her drag her mouth off just to suck him back in, “didn’t know you’d ever take me like this. I could only- could only dream.”

The sound of the wet pop of her lips latching off his cock reminded him they were still very much outside and on duty.

“Christ, you like this?” he rasped, stroking her hair back, “Sucking me off in the middle of the woods o-on patrol?” She answered with a whimper as she picked up the pace and it had him leaning further back into the tree as her hands found his thighs. Keeping his weight against the trunk, he bent his knees a little to push his feet out further. Samira, in a way that he could not fathom, managed to maintain her sucks as she shifted right to align her cunt with his boot. He watched her get all the friction she needed just by grinding down on him. “Yeah, oh shit, you like this.”

It was dizzying to witness. On her sore knees, panting and slurping and humping. The mix of her spit and his pre smearing the rim of her mouth. This girl, so much younger than him, dragging her clothed pussy against the thick of his shoe as she bobbed her head up and down his pulsing cock. He angled his knee out a bit to accommodate her grinding.

Jack could imagine the seam of her pants catching nicely on her needy clit as she bucked her hips into his leg. Getting off on getting him off. He couldn’t wait to make it up to her, to push her further than she was pushing him. Almost begged her not to go to lunch with John tomorrow.

She gently pulled off to catch her breath and carefully twisted her hands around him with the residue of her spit, stretching her tongue out again so she could drag his mushroom tip over the flat of it. His hips stuttered in response and it struck heat down to her core. “Samira," he breathed, "the things I’m gonna do to you."

She rode his boot harder as she eased his cock back into her mouth, the hair at his base tickling her nose. Sticky panties pressing into her folds.

“You- mm, you’re doing so good for me,” Jack groaned. “Fuck, I can feel the back of your throat.” He let his hands gather up her hair to keep it from brushing over her face. At this point, he had abandoned restraint and allowed himself to rock into the steady tempo of her sucking. He couldn’t believe it.

On duty, in the darkest hours of the night, under the preternatural glow of the moon, he was leveraging his weight against a tree as he lazily fed his hard cock into the mouth of his junior partner while he guided her head back to him, over and over and over again. Shame curled deep in his gut, though it was subdued by the waves of pleasure she wrung out of him.

As soon as he fell from his high, he planned to switch places with her and divest her of her clothes before hooking a leg over his shoulder to bury his tongue deep in her slick cunt. Instead of his boot, she could grind down on his nose.

His fingers tightened around the bunches of her curls, feeling himself approach the precipice of his release. She didn’t seem to tire or back down, and he worried that she couldn’t tell how close he was.

 “Hey, you don’t have to—” he stammered, trying to keep himself from fucking into her mouth too hard when he saw a tear creep down from the corner of her eye. “If it’s too much, I can pull—”

Samira was going for a home run. She was going to make him finish on her tongue if it was the last thing she did.

She sucked him in like a fucking vacuum before releasing him to use her hands again. As she furiously jerked his cock, her lips closed around his crown and she tongued his tip like she was French-kissing it. He saw stars when he felt her lay soft, teasing licks over his dribbling slit.

The forest groaned around them and it seemed to Jack like everything had come to life. Over her fast, clammy strokes and the suckling of her lips, he could catch a flurry of murmurs circling around the tree behind him. Tickling his ear and then echoing throughout the woodlands. It was like a scorching, wispy summer had swallowed the night. Like the whispers of the trees were coaxing him to cum inside the suction of her warm mouth.

When her jerks slowed into squeezing strokes and her lips puckered out around his head, when she bared down on his boot. When she sighed around him, when her eyes flicked up to meet his—he came.

“Oh- oh, shit.”

His senses were stark now as his orgasm surged through him with ferocity.

The blurred shape of what looked like a woman lurking in the distance. The whispered scream of a hound. The red marker plastered on a fallen log behind Samira.

Oblivious, she welcomed him all over her tongue, relishing the taste of his spend as it sprayed the walls of her mouth. All she could hear were his ragged moans when she swallowed and nursed on his fat, spent tip. Felt herself get impossibly wetter as the load of warm cum continued to spill onto her tongue. She didn’t let a drop go to waste.

With Samira struggling to detach from his sensitive tip, Jack was returning to the surrounding environment under the haze of his release. Nothing about this was normal.

Sure, she probably would’ve jimmied him down her throat back at the collective sooner or later. But he wouldn’t have thought he was dying, or coming close to death, in order for it to happen. No, it had only been fifteen minutes prior where he felt like the entire forest was going to cave in on him if he didn’t lodge his cock inside something wet.

And Samira was so cock-drunk, still on her knees; still humping his boot. Still licking him up and down like she was hoping to draw another glob of cum into her mouth. As much as he loved it, there was something very seriously off.

The red marker came back to him, then. Policy and protocol. The symptoms.

Both of them were exorbitantly high on raw lust. Blinded by their urges, deafened by their moans. He didn’t know why it had taken him so long to realise they had wandered into a red zone, but he was undoubtedly sure of it now.

Before he could say anything to Samira, the grating scream of a dying man tore through the silence of the woods. Jack’s flaccid cock fell from Samira’s mouth as they both spun their heads in its direction. A few miles west. It could only belong to John Shen.

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn in Baldur's Gate 3: Chapter 1

Plot: You’ve been reincarnated.  It’s the realization you come to when the tiefling offering you a health potion introduces himself as Tav.  You died and your soul revived in Baldur's Gate 3, at the beginning of the game no less.  But you only have the memories of your past life on Earth, and none of your current one.  

Tav invites you to join him on his journey, despite your lack of abilities or maybe because of it.  You might as well go along with it; where else would you go with no memory of who you currently are, or knowledge of anything that lies outside of the narrative?

There is much to discover about your life in Baldur's Gate, and what transpires relies on the tiefling leading your group as Tav.

Word Count: 2.5K

A/N: This is very self-indulgent so there will by a lot of Gale and Astarion.

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

“I’m Tav.”

He’s a tiefling, you recall.  Tall and bulky with curled horns.  The dark gray skin tells you he’s descended from Mephistopheles, and his simple leather gear tells you he’s a barbarian.  Huh.  Yeah, that makes sense, he’s Tav, the hero of the game!  Or…the villain?  Your head pounds as memories flood back to you—tieflings, bards, goblins, vampires—you, sitting at a computer debating which choice would garner you the most favour with your companions in…

“Baldur’s Gate,” you mumble.  You slap a hand over your mouth, staying on your knees as you blink at the tiefling.  At Tav.  He arches his brows and kneels beside you, offering you a small vial of red liquid.

“You’re from Baldur’s Gate, too?” he asks.  “Drink this, it’ll make you feel better.”

Without much thought you take the already opened vial from him and swallow it down in one small gulp.  With a deep breath the pounding in your head subsides and you can think a little clearer.  Maybe not clear enough to fully comprehend that you’re currently in a video game, or that there’s a small wriggling behind your left eye which means…

More images come to you, a mind flayer holding a worm with too many teeth to your eye,  a githyanki—Lae’zel—pointing a sword at you, and then falling from the ship.  The nautiloid.  Tav’s memories of the ship.

Tav winces as the visions fade.  “Guess you got one of those, too.”

A chill runs down your spine, through each and every bone of your body until the squirming thing behind your eye stops movement all together.  

“I uh…”  You look around at the crash area, taking in the rocks and splotches of fire dotting the land on one side and water on your left, until you meet the gaze of a raven-haired half-elf.  

“This one doesn’t seem to be all there,” she says.  Her voice is as smooth and condescending as you remember, and you find it endearing despite the insult.

“Give them a moment,” Tav responds over his shoulder.  “It’s a lot to take in.”

Yes, especially because this is most definitely a dream.  A very vivid, painful, exciting, insane dream.

“What’s your name?” 

You fear all you can do is blink.  You tell them your name, voice as shaky as your body.  There’s a tremble in your hands that you can’t control, even with a hard grip on the now empty vial.  “And thank you…for the potion.”

Tav lifts, holding a large sharp-nailed hand out to you.  “Can you stand?”

You nod, taking his hand and letting him lift you to your feet. You let your hand drop to dust off your clothes, nothing that you remember wearing.  The last thing you recall was going to bed in a tank top and shorts but you’re now wearing a dark blue overcoat atop loose fitting pants and a fitted shirt.  The borders of the coat are stitched with gold swirls, and based on the softness of everything you wear it has to be expensive.  Somehow, after everything (whatever the Hells that involved) you are quite clean.  Not to mention the bag that hangs at your hip beneath your coat is quite heavy, and another bag that wraps around your waist and sits at your back has the contents clinking together when you move.

You look like a caster of some kind, but you can’t tell which.  You can’t feel anything that would indicate your abilities, but some cold sensation at the back of your mind tells you you can do something.  Like another limb sits in your mind, waiting to be moved.

“We don’t have time for stragglers,” Shadowheart says.

“Yet I helped you,” Tav counters.  There’s a playfulness to his tone that doesn’t match his furrowed brow.  

Shadowheart concedes.  “Fair enough.  You’re welcome to join us in our search for a healer.”

You nod.  Yes, a healer!  They’ll be able to—pain strikes your temples as another memory clouds your mind.  

A truck careening at you, horn blaring—a sharp hit of adrenaline and then…here.

“Oh my God I’ve been isekaied.”  Your revelation earns you quizzical looks from Tav and Shadowheart.  Reincarnated.  Just like those cheesy but addicting books about a girl being reincarnated as a villainess in some cheesy addicting romance novel.  You press your hands to your face, feeling familiar features but still wary.  “Quick, what do I look like?”

“A lunatic,” Shadowheart answers.

Tav hesitates, but describes you.  You.  Not some other face, not a character you recall from the game but you.  Regular human you. You sigh, relief flooding over you.

“As…interesting as this conversation is, we should get moving,” Tav says.

“Agreed.”  Shadowheart doesn’t move until Tav heads to the only direction you can go, near part of the crashed ship.  

“We need to find Lae’zel,” Tav adds.

“Less agreeable,” Shadowheart says.  “She’s probably long gone by now, if not dead.”

“Well we should still keep an eye out.”

You follow the two into the still burning wreckage where they suddenly stop and draw their weapons—Tav a large axe, and Shadowheart her mace and shield.  

“Intellect devourers,” you conclude.  Three sit at the far end of the ship, scurrying towards you at a frightening speed.  With one slash of his axe Tav takes out two of them before they can get close to you, and Shadowheart smacks the other one down.  All defeated in what?  Three seconds? 

The three brains bleed out and flop to their sides, clawed limbs twitching.

“Vile creatures,” Tav says, holstering his axe.  You expect the two to keep moving and check the nearby bodies for gold and supplies, just as you do in the game, but they don’t.  They walk right past the dead man without rifling through his pockets and as you step by you feel your stomach lurch.  To see a bloody disfigured body in reality felt very different from the game. The vacant eyes staring upward, pieces of flesh torn from his stomach…It isn’t until a hand covers your eyes and directs you forward do you realize you’d stopped.  

“Just keep moving,” Tav says, keeping his hand by the side of your head so you can’t see the body.  When his hand falls you keep your eyes on his swinging tail, and follow after him as he turns and moves into the sun.

Barrels and a broken down cart let you know what’s coming next—who’s coming next.  

Your excitement strikes you then, still shaky and confused but awake.  You’re in Baldur’s Gate 3, with Tav and Shadowheart, and hopefully all the others.  

Your eyes scan the water nearby, debris scattered everywhere until you spot a dagger on the dock.  Tav and Shadowheart watch you dart over and pick it up.

“I thought you would be one to attack with words, not knives,” Shadowheart says coolly.

You stash the dagger in a boot, smiling at Shadowheart.  Gods. She was pretty as pixels but seeing her in the flesh, she was something else.  “Well, words aren’t always the best weapons.”

“Can I get some help?”

You recognize the voice without needing to see the speaker.  Astarion is just up the hill waiting to ambush Tav and…kill him depending on how he answers.  

Based on how Tav darted ahead at the sound of someone in trouble (albeit fake trouble) you figured it wouldn’t turn out too terribly.  So they had skipped over robbing the dead, and didn’t explore every corner of the map looking for treasure chests…that didn’t mean things would be different with each companion intro, right?  There’s a plot here, and it has to be followed to a certain degree…right?  There were no screen pop ups to decide dialogue and you all appeared to have free will, which was good.

Right?

Your thoughts did little to comfort you as you climbed the hill to find Astarion already pointing his blade at Tav who was apparently perceptive enough to dodge rolling around in the ground with the vampire.  You stopped next to Shadowheart, at ease just watching the situation unfold.

Both men twitch and writhe as their parasites connect.  When their visions fade Astarion questions it, and Tav answers honestly about being in the mind flayer ship and what the worms can do.

You study Astarion’s face as he realizes that he’s somewhat free, but there’s a time limit to the incubation period.  Tav offers for him to join your trio, and just like you remember, he agrees.

“Splendid,” Astarion says.  “Lead on.”

At that the vampire meets your eyes.  Icicles dance up your spine until they pierce the back of your head, making you wince and hold a hand against the spot.  

You grunt at the sudden pain, the sound quiet but drawing attention all the same.  You wave the eyes away from you with your free hand.  “Sorry.  Head still hurts a bit from…having a tadpole put inside it.”

Nobody questions that, though you know it was something else.  Every time your eyes even flit in Astarion’s direction you can feel a push at the back of your head, that phantom limb clenching as if trying to stretch and release itself.  You wish you could say it was the tadpole, but it feels nothing like when you connected with Tav.  

“Well let’s just try to keep our worms separate,” Astarion says, seemingly at you.  “I don’t need to see what’s in your head anymore than you do mine.”

His eyes linger a moment on Tav.  You nod your agreement though he isn’t looking at you now.

“I saw some footprints along another path,” Tav announces.  “There could be other survivors.”

There doesn’t seem to be any question as to who is in charge.  Shadowheart insists on searching for a healer but with a quick convincing from Tav you’re all headed towards a strange looking purple sigil.  

“Looks unstable,” Shadowheart says.

“Best left alone,” Tav agrees.  It was just like a friend's first play through that thought the sigil would kill them, so they never had Gale join their party.  It wasn’t a totally unfounded theory—swirling, sparking voids did seem like something that shouldn’t be touched but everything in this world had a purpose.  Anything out of place or, well, glowing, was important to the story.

But then the group is walking toward the bodies of three goblins discussing supplies.  

They’ll steal from goblins but not humans?  Seems odd but maybe you’re the weird one being so willing to pillage the dead, no matter their race.  You frown, looking back at the sigil and knowing who is inside.  “You sure you don’t want to see why it’s like that?”

Astarion is observing his nails while Tav loots the goblin bodies.  Shadowheart kicks one of the bodies out of her way once fully plundered and looks back at you.  “Be my guest.  But if you get sucked in don’t expect me to come looking for you.”

“I’ll come look for you,” Tav states with a cheeky grin, hands inside a dead goblins pockets. It makes you smile back, so…kind and disarming.  You recall barbarians didn’t have high charisma, but Tav seemed to have it in spades.  Or perhaps your recent head injury was clouding your judgement—after all your reaction to being reincarnated, to being dead, was quite tame. 

“Ah, a true hero.”  Astarion looks between you and Tav, eyes narrowing as if trying to solve a puzzle.

You turn your attention back to the sigil, taking a small step towards it when an arm pops out. 

“A hand?” a voice calls.  “Anybody?”

You slap the waxing hand immediately without a thought.

“Perhaps I should have been more specific,” Gale says.  “A helping hand please?”

“Oh, right!”  You quickly take his hand in yours and tug to no avail.  

“Keep trying!”

You pull harder, wondering if you were going to end up holding a severed arm in your hand as the sigil sparks brighter and buzzes with energy.  You choose to ignore those thoughts and keep trying to free the wizard. 

With one final pull the person connected to the arm comes tumbling out of the sigil.  If it had been Tav to pull Gale free you’re certain it would have been a smooth experience, and he would have stepped back and dodged getting shoved to the ground by the sudden lack of resistance.  But it wasn’t Tav, it was you, and instead of dodging the wizard your feet tangled with each other and you both went down. 

The wind is knocked from your lungs with Gale atop you, his forehead connecting with your sternum and leaving you gasping for air.  Strands of his hair fall onto your lips, soft and smelling of something spicy while his left arm is wrapped around your middle, the other braced against the ground.  You realize he’d been trying to protect you on the way down, but wasn’t quick enough to cover the back of your head, which now throbs from the fresh battering.  

“Ouch,” you croak, voice barely making it out of your throat.  Footsteps approach until Tav, Shadowheart, and Astarion are hovering over you, each with a small smile.  Well…Astarion’s is more of a smirk…

Gale pushes himself off of you and before he can say anything Tav has his hands beneath your underarms and is pulling you up.  His hands slide to your back until you’re steady enough to stand on your own and thank him, rubbing at the back of your head again. 

Throbbing is better than stabbing, you suppose.

“Apologies,” Gale says as he smooths his hair back, “I’m usually much better at this.”

You continue to rub the back of your head as he and Tav exchange dialogue, much of it going in one ear and out the other as you focus on the pain radiating in your skull.  You squeeze your eyes shut and let your hands fall to your sides, giving in to the fact you can’t rub away whatever sensation is there.

“And you my friend.”  Gale is in front of you, drawing your gaze to meet his.  “I am truly sorry for landing on you, but extremely grateful for the help.”

You can’t stop your smile at him anymore than you could with Tav.  “Happy to help.”

His eyes stay on you a moment longer than appropriate, but when they drape down your body you think he’s almost sizing you up.  For a fight, or romance, or maybe to steal your coat you aren’t sure.

You look to Tav for direction, waiting for the leader to…well, lead.  Lae’zel should be next, but that’s when you notice you have an extra member.  With you there it makes five travellers, but nobody has been sent to camp yet.  Wherever that is.  While you’d like a moment to sit and organize your thoughts, the idea of heading somewhere on your own was terrifying. 

“I hear voices over that ridge,” Astarion announces.  Everyone turns towards where he’s looking, just a few feet ahead where the path winds up and you know you’ll find two tieflings looking at Lae’zel.  But you can’t hear them yet.

“Let’s check it out.”  Tav is already moving before anyone can object.  And like ducklings you follow him with Astarion, Gale, and Shadowheart.

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope

[houxe]

Regarding my SBI/DSMP Fics

TW: Abuse, Trauma, and Mentions of Suicide.

With all that has happened, I did want to come out here and make my stance clear. I will always stand with Shelby (Shubble) and all of the victims who are speaking out against Will Gold (Wilbur Soot). If you still support that bastard, unfollow me and leave my blog and whatever small community I made.

I've already stated this is my Discord channel, but I want to put it here too.

For me, c!Wilbur is so far removed from cc!Wilbur that I don't connect the two. The characters are vessels for my own characterizations and stories. It's a bit like writing Supernatural*, Twilight, or Hazbin Hotel fanfics. I don't support the guy, monetarily or otherwise, he does not interact with fanfics, I have plans to be very vocal that I'm on Shelby's side no matter what/make it clear that what Will did is wrong, and I don't use his real life events as plots in my stories. At least, I certainly don't try to. It's why I typically change traits about the characters. (I.e. Tommy is shorter, Phil is taller, Techno is bulky, and Wilbur always has golden/hazel eyes.)

I'm aware that it's a tad different because it's rp and not something like a full on book or an actor in a movie, but DSMP has also been over for over two years and the characterizations I make for SBI are not at all based on the CCs. Real life Techno isn't a literal terrorist, Phil ain't a father married to a goddess, Tommy is not a traumatized child soldier, and Wilbur isn't suicidal and blowing up countries.

I think I'll likely focus more on Techno, Tommy, and Phil for a while, but I'm not gonna let one dude ruin a fandom and things I've made for myself. Nothing I write is ever made for Wilbur, as I've seen people saying. Additionally, Wilbur was not the only writer. Technoblade, Philza, TommyInnit, and so many others made that story what it was. Not him.

However, if any CCs come forward saying they don't want their old characters interacting with his, I will respect that.

Though I do think there is a tendency to take real life events (i.e. Techno's cancer, LJ's music, Tommy's real life parents, etc.) and put them into fiction about DSMP. I, however, don't try to do that and have stated before that I don't feel comfortable doing so. The truth is that we have not gotten any genuine SBI content outside of DSMP for years. The dynamic in real life is very different from what was presented in the DSMP. Did personalities still bleed over? Yes, I'm not going to deny that, but I'm not going to act like they're exactly the same between character and person either. We've had that conversation like in 2021, it's why we have C! and CC!.

The rather sad truth is, SBI is what got me really into writing and it's a comfort for me that nothing can compare to. Obviously, I don't think it's appropriate to be writing certain types of stories right now or to be involving characters made by CCs outside of the DSMP. I think it's up to everyone else to decide on what they want to do, however, rushing it also isn't the way to go either. Give yourself time to heal and think it over first instead of throwing away something that gives you comfort and has not been associated with by the creators for over two years.

Anyways, fuck Will Gold. Fuck the fact that he hurt so many people, and fuck that he lied and manipulated his way around the damn internet. ESPECIALLY fuck the fact that he tried to diminish what he did and not take proper accountability.

Go and support Shelby so so much, she and everyone who spoke out really deserve it. I'm glad silence on these types of issues is not being normalized.

Here is a list of (American) resources for DV help:

TNLR

RAINN

WOAR

Love is respect

The Trevor project

Futures without violence

National domestic violence hotline

Resource on what DV and abuse looks like

*Changed it from Harry Potter to Supernatural because Harry Potter is a significantly worse and more problematic franchise, even just within the content of the books. It'd be better left in the dust. I've talked about it before, but it was the first thing that came to my mind at the time and was a poor comparison on my part, I'm truly sorry for that.

[rightpastnowhere]

TLOVM season 3 episode 3 thoughts from someone who's slowly losing her mind

PART ONE: campaign vex and perc'ahlia VS tlovm vex and perc'ahlia

(yeah. yeah it's part one. i have so many thoughts gang)

SPOILERS BELOW THE CUT

okay. so. i feel like i've made it clear how much i ADORE the perc'ahlia relationship timeline in campaign 1. and it remains to this day one of my absolute favorites, and i was very afraid of it being changed in tlovm. BUT. i'm actually kind of fucking obsessed with these changes.

because, really, campaign!vex and tlovm!vex are two entirely separate characters. they're still the same vex at their core, but the changes to the narrative in tlovm have changed the show version of vex in ways that i think are perfectly suited to the "i'm going to turn this into a fling even though we're both fooling ourselves" plotline. tlovm!vex seems overall more committed to the facade she puts out. she's a bit colder in the beginning, and has slowly thawed over the past two seasons, but not in the same way campaign!vex has by this point in the c1 plot, and like. on the one hand, it might just be a personality shift for the adaptation! something to make more clear-cut character archetypes. on the other hand, i keep remembering that vox machina haven't been a party for as long in tlovm. she's still questioning whether or not to stay with the party in season one. she doesn't have as strong of a foundation with these people, less trust and less comfort. she's got so many more walls built up.

and that, of course, includes her relationship with percy. campaign!perc'ahlia, in my eyes, is a friends to lovers slowburn. it's been mentioned that they hit it off well from the beginning, and while they both were attracted to each other to some degree, they both dismissed it as a bad idea and moved on. over the year of in-game time they spent together (maybe more? i get confused with the timeline) before we even see them on screen, they build up a steady and solid friendship. one filled with flirting and teasing, but still a friendship. and it's clear that they both value this connection they have, especially in the briarwood arc, with the mask and all of that loveliness. and sure, some of that could be read as romantic, but it's love all the same. vex loved percy before she was in love with him, and that dynamic is one she's terrified to lose! "wouldn't it be so awkward, though?" she says, as if she's already decided that all that confessing would do would be adding tension, that there's no chance of reciprocity.

in tlovm, though? it's barely been any time at all. she's fallen in love with percy in the same time it's taken to really be his friend, to find that she can trust him and rely on him. the weight of their history isn't nearly as bulky, here. sure, she won't dare risk any revelations of her feelings or any attempts at a serious relationship, but sex doesn't have to mean anything. if it makes things awkward then, well, they're still settling into their dynamic as friends anyway - things can be shuffled around and fall into different places. there's nothing solid yet to risk, if that makes sense. they're still building a foundation, she can build around the cracks.

and another significant point of divergence: syldor. i have a lot of thoughts on the feywild arc and the changes made, but i'm going to disregard all of that now because they're, same as vex, basically different characters. to put it simply: tlovm!syldor is harsh and gives bad attention, whereas campaign!syldor is neglectful and doesn't give enough attention. as a result, we see that tlovm!vex seeks out good attention, whereas campaign!vex avoids getting close enough to anyone for them to pull the rug out from underneath her. tlovm!vex initiates a fling, a dynamic of gratification and positive attention without emotional weight, because actually being in a relationship can result in that trust being used against you. she trusted in her father, and he used being her father as a way to beat her down. campaign!vex doesn't even try to initiate anything, because she fears the silence, the lack of reciprocity and care, the fear of being turned down. she tried to build a connection with her father, and was met with silence and quiet disapproval and barely even a second glance. i don't know if this makes any sense, and i'm bad at words, but these feel like different fears of rejection to me? and yet they're both fears of rejection, something that is at the core of vex's actions and personality in both adaptations.

two different stories of a person driven by fear, and i love them for their differences!! they both feel more fitting for their versions of canon!!! and both make me insane!!!!!!!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Plotting Serpent.

A Sorcerer in the Sands seeks something far bigger than himself. Freedom, sweet freedom.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Bundled up in several layers, Jamil makes his way down a twisting path and into an open market.

The ground crunches softly under his boots. His breath is chilled, turning into a fleeting fog as he exhales. He retreats to the comfort and safety that his bulky coat provides, watching bales of white lazily drift down around him.

Snow instead of sand—imagine that.

The market operates straight out of the town square. From a vantage point--his temporary housing upon a hill--he can see the entirety of it, all the stalls forming a circle. The market is, by no means, large—but it has the spirit of something grander. The banter, the bartering.

Not so different from the bazaars at home.

Jamil ducks in, taking his time to pace around to each vendor. He’s agile and bright, like a child first viewing the moon and rushing to catch it in his palms.

Most sellers—and most customers—are elderly, gnarled like the roots of a tree. The cold colors their rounded cheeks the same red as many of the apples on display.

There’s pink and yellow and green too, and other fresh produce. The majority of it, he is told, is grown in Harveston. Others are foraged from Mt. Moln—nuts, plants, berries, and mushrooms.

Other stalls offer already manufactured goods. Scarves and gloves to protect against the winter, steaming apple drinks and sweetly spiced snacks, toiletries lovingly handcrafted with botanical oils.

His eyes light up with interest. He stops to inspect a row of shampoo and conditioner bars.

Feel free to touch and smell! says a sign at the stall.

He does, testing the weight of a bar in his hand. It is light and has an easy slip to it, and gives off the faint aroma of apples. Slightly tart and juicy.

It'll be good to have on hand, especially when it weighs less than liquid variants. The sign says these bars are made with apple seed oil, an ingredient that treats split ends and dryness while restoring a shine...

He absentmindedly feels the ends of his hair. The locks are normally dark and glossy, but the cold has not treated them well, leaving them slightly dry and brittle.

That's the cost of travel. It can be difficult to predict how my skin and hair react to different climates.

“Excuse me,” Jamil calls out to the stall owner, “I’d like to buy one of these shampoo bars, please. One in the conditioner bars as well."

“Sure thing!!” The owner wraps up the bars and slides them over. As Jamil hands him a few bills, he pipes up. “Say, yer not from ‘round here, are ya, sonny?”

“Yes. I am but a traveler.”

“Traveler!” The owner’s eyebrows shoot up. “Real fancy livin’ ya must have."

“No, not at all. I try to live humbly and travel light.” Jamil indicates his backpack, the one piece of luggage that follows him wherever he goes.

"That so? Not many young folk visit these parts." The owner strokes his rounded chin in contemplation. "I figured ya must be on yer way to the city. A lot more for youngins to see 'n do there."

“I beg to differ. The village has shown me incredible hospitality during my stay. Delicious foods, friendliness... I can enjoy Harveston's natural sights without worry. I'm content with just that."

With each word that leaves his lips, he feels the weight that has been on his shoulders lifting.

Jamil, you're free, the wind seems to whisper. The realization is intoxicatingly sweet and crisp, the first bite taken from a forbidden fruit.

"Aww, that warms mah heart ta hear ya say," the owner beams. "Yer a good kid, yer parents would be proud of ya."

"My... parents?" Jamil falters at the mention of them.

His parents are back home. His sister, too. Najma had texted not long ago, pestering him about bringing her a souvenir and asking when he’d be back.

His family is waiting for him. And... who else is there?

Jamil's brows furrow. Suddenly, he feels as though someone should be beside him, and he, trailing after them. A hopeless person buying up all the stalls, shoveling new dish after new dish at him.

"Here, try this, Jamil! Oooh, and this! That looks super tasty, have some too! And this cracker!"

"Where did you get all this food from?! There's no way we'll be able to feasibly finish this before it goes bad. Why do you never listen to me, Ka..."

A growl rips from his stomach. Jamil's eyes widen, and his face heats.

The stall owner's laugh cuts through his confusion. "Gahahah! Ya hungry there, son? Here, lemme grab ya somethin' on the house."

"Oh no, sir, I can't accept that."

"I insist!! Won't be long 'fore ya mosey on outta here and move on ta the next place. Eat yer fill while yer here, there ain't nothin' like a homegrown Harveston meal or snack anywhere else in Twisted Wonderland!"

The owner rustles with utensils behind the stall, He fills a container with a generous slice of pie--oozing with apple filling--and fluffy pancakes, plus a few potstickers. Then he pours hot tea, apple cubes bobbing in the spiced brown liquid, into a paper cup.

Jamil gets a whiff of it from where he stands and--against his better judgment, his mouth waters. When the owner hands him the container, cup, and a wooden fork, he doesn't refuse them.

"Remember us ‘n all the fun times ya spent here."

"Thank you, sir." Jamil bows his head. "I will. I'll never forget your kindness."

"Don't 'cha mention it. Go on 'n git now, ya got plenty more of the village to visit!""

Jamil departs with his purchase and his gifts, which he immediately settles into.

Lifting the paper cup to his lips, he sips his tea. It's deep and tangy from the cinnamon and apples it has been brewed with. He pleasantly warms from head to toe.

It isn't long before he downs the rest of the drink, apple cubes and all. They're not fresh, but dried--so when his teeth slices them into halves, they're springy and chewy, with a strong flavor.

Jamil lowers the cup, dragging out a satisfied sigh.

It's then that he realizes he's walking directly into a black wall. He veers sharply to the right, but still brushes his arm against that of the incoming person.

“Pardon me. I wasn't watching where I was going...” Jamil looks back, but is startled to find no one where his shoulder has made contact.

Hm? Was I imagining things?

Jamil glances around the marketplace. The crowd is too sparse for him to miss anyone. There are grandmothers and grandfathers, mothers and fathers, each dressed in thick coats and boots, some wrapped in scarves and others sporting fuzzy hats or earmuffs.

But no one is wearing all black.

He shakes his head.

It was probably nothing then.

Jamil returns to browsing the square, his every stride as light as a feather. He feels as though he is dancing atop the snow.

The cold no longer bothers him.

The wind, carrying a new message that resonates with his heart. It seems stronger now, rumbling like a deadly avalanche.

"Be free, Viper. Be free."

[redux-iterum]

how do i outline coherently. i am struggling

I'm going to assume you have an idea of how the story goes already, you just need to actually write it down. Which is the most difficult part of this whole thing, for me, so I feel your pain.

If this is the case: My game plan is to first outline in a way that will be most helpful for me, in order to get it written out at all. Iterum is written more coherently for Lynx's sake, but my original content is an organized mess, which is perfect for me. It doesn't matter if it's scatterbrained - the important thing is that I know what's going on and it makes it easier to outline to completion. You can refine it later. Just get it done.

You know that phrase, "Write drunk, edit sober"? Take that metaphorically. Write like a damn maniac with as little cohesion as is needed, and then come back to it and organize it into something anyone can read, if you care to.

My tactics:

Use bullets like this to write down each story beat and minor event. This makes it easier to rearrange things if I have to in the future.

--------You can also add additional, smaller bullets to each big bullet with as many details as you need to add on for context.

Color code words and characters, especially in big, bulky paragraphs. This makes it easier than just a Ctrl+F on a Google doc - you can scroll down quickly and catch wherever a character is without having to click "next" a bunch.

If blocks of text automatically overwhelm your brain, cut down paragraphs into two or three sentences. (Thank you to @thunder-the-ranger-wolf for helping me with this one recently.)

As you're writing the events, make notes with -dashes- or (parenthesis) or even bullets that will tell you something important that you don't want to forget. Things like "this weapon will be used by Jack later on when he's rushed into the room for safety", or "note that Howard should look tense and anxious in reaction to this conversation", or even just "add a flashback here once the first arc is outlined and I know what details I need to hint at". You'd be amazed at how much shit people (especially me) will forget about that's small but crucial to the story, because they're writing the big events for extended periods.

If you get intimidated by a loooong synopsis that you've been working on for a while and still isn't done, just catch up on the last few paragraphs or single page that you've written and then continue from there. You may repeat events or contradict a previous plotpoint, though, just as a warning. I handle that issue when the outline is done and it's time to refine it; I also like to reread everything frequently on an off day without writing anything new to catch those mistakes.

In the event that the above happens and a plot point is written twice, be aware that whatever choice you make on where to actually place it could drastically change the rest of the plot going forward. If you hate rewriting stuff, that'll be annoying.

Stuck on where to go next? Make a new paragraph with a single sentence that reads, "something happens here", and then move on to the stuff you can more easily write down. My preference is to be a little detailed about it: "something happens here that gets Joy from the cafe to the wrong neighborhood", and then writing about what happens in the wrong neighborhood. It's surprisingly a lot easier to figure out the transitional events like this once you have a specific A and B point to connect.

Have multiple docs to write and rewrite on. You don't have to write in one and then fix it over and over. Just write down what you have and are confident in so far, and move to the next document if ideas change or you're getting frustrated and need to start over. You'd be surprised at how helpful this is. It's like sketching something poorly and then redrawing it in a better and better state with new pages of paper. Hell, you can even trace stuff you liked from the first page and add it into the next version.

In the case of my first webcomic, when I didn't know what the fuck I was doing and events had to be rearranged all the time due to the nature of the storytelling, I resorted to using an art program (in my case, MS Paint) to write very short summaries of story beats and outright organize them in a visual format. I am not kidding about this. I straight up just used my mouse to put plot points here and there, and then change them around if something sounded better over at the beginning instead of the middle. It was shockingly helpful. It looks silly, but if you're an image person instead of a word person (as I am), it's a very easy way to visualize exactly what the fuck's going on in the outline.

Now let's say you complete the outline and it is a cobweb of chaos. Excellent. All you have to do now is write everything down in an outline similar to a Wikipedia summary. Translating "Stan says this -> everyone hears a gunshot" into "Stan angrily declares that he's sick of his mistreatment. Before anyone can respond, a gunshot goes off outside" is surprisingly easy. Is this a bit tedious? Yes. Is it optional? Absolutely. Do I recommend it? Very much so.

I personally like to do it because it's a cleaner, more organized version of the mess I made earlier. It's especially helpful if you're going to have someone go over the outline and critique or question things. My version of a completed outline will have chapters as full paragraphs detailing what happens, like so:

Chapter EIGHT: The morning sun rises and Kel pulls himself out of bed with a hangover. He stumbles to the bathroom and tries to wash up before the headache gets to be too much and he lays down on the floor. Meanwhile, the front door opens and the burglar from the night before (this will be revealed to be Sarah in chapter 19) sneaks into the house. They decide to try and grab more stuff, even with the sound of footsteps and retching in the upstairs rooms being audible. Just as the burglar finds Kel's mother's necklace, Kel comes downstairs and, seeing a stranger in his house, immediately confronts them.

Then on to chapter nine, and so on.

That's all I got for now. Hope this helps!

[rouxenne]

PET Pokémon: Tango

Galvantula, Emolga, Klink

“A new attraction has just been announced by the Nimbasa City Amusement Park PR team! Said to be a complete departure from traditional rides, fans of parks and Pokemon alike have begun rumoring that the Nimbasa City Gym’s own Tango Tek may be credited as the lead developer of the project. Read more to find the official response from NCAP.” ~NEW NIMBASA PRESS

And now for the last (but certainly not least) member of our main trio, Tango of the Tek variety! Head designer and mechanic for the Nimbasa City Gym, what Tango lacks in battle expertise he makes up for tenfold in innovation and technical know-how. He’s not much of a public figure (when compared to Pearl and Etho, anyhow), but any fan of gym challenges or theme park attractions knows his name by heart. Most of his free time is spent either crafting up new games or hanging out with his good friends at the Gear Station.

The adventure Tango embarks on with Pearl and Etho is actually his first time with anything that resembles a traditional pokemon journey! His sporadic, in-depth knowledge comes in clutch more than a few times, but he's not terribly confident in his battling or traveling skills... Which actually limits him more than his lack of experience does! He grows more comfortable as the adventure goes on, but will it be enough..? Only time will tell!

Tango’s our first example of non-battlers not having a full team of six. His Pokemon are useful for his work, but they’re family all the same. 

Most of Tango’s team, at least to begin with, is going to revolve around his affinity for redstone and all things tech-y. This means plenty of electric-types! Galvantula can lay down rudimentary wires and can get just about anywhere, making it great for creating and navigating the wiring noodles! Emolga is similar, being highly agile and able to squeeze into any number of tight spaces. Klink is more themed around Tango’s steampunk theme of Hermitcraft season 10, and is actually exceptionally well timed considering the massive gear present in the factory build he revealed in his latest video!

As the plot progresses he’ll get a bit more battle experience and create more of a solid battling team, though he’ll never become a competitive (professional) battler. At the moment I’m thinking fire-types to really work in some of the blaze theming that he so frequently gets. The Tepig line could be a good option for getting a cute pokemon that turns into something bulky after a training arc, especially considering that Emboar’s pokedex entries mention how loyal it is and how it powers up in dire situations (a perfect addition for say… a third-act fallout, perhaps?). The Darumaka line might work well with Tango’s played-up theatrical emotions (I'm particularly thinking of the scenes after the ranch burns down in Double LIfe), considering Darmanitan’s intense hot-and-cold personality. I’d also love to include something to reference Decked Out 2, though I’m not sure what would work… Probably a Golurk, considering the blue color scheme and the relation to old structures.

[chil-aglia]

For The Bad Things Happen Bingo Card:

Bingo Slot: Shock Collar

Characters: Matt and Nico

Plot: This one is kinda funny and angsty at the same time; Matt and Nico decide to try and prank their parents by using an old shock collar that they found in the resistance base to try and scare them by having Matt wear the collar and making a bunch of jokes to see if it would shock him (the shock collar is the same one as the one Donnie made Leo in the Donnie’s Gifts episode of the show) and it almost gives their parents a heart attack and they make Matt take the shock collar off and has Donnie destroy the shock collar.

This will be marked off as 'Shock Collar' as that is the main focus!

This was surprisingly hard to make. So I kinda ran out of ideas on how to go about this.

Wasn’t sure how to make this as both a Nico and Matt fic. So, this is focused more on Matt. Hope that’s okay!

Also, this is going to be a bit short. Sorry about that! And Adriaen isn’t going to make an appearance in this. So it’s Leo and Donnie! And of course Nico makes an appearance.

Hope you enjoy this! And sorry for any grammar errors made!

@badthingshappenbingo

Link to the fic on Ao3: Zip-Zap - Chilaglia - Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (Cartoon 2018) [Archive of Our Own]

——————————————————————————————————

Zip-Zap

Quick note: This is not canon to the main story of Collide. This is in the bad future timeline during the Krang War!

Bingo slot: Shock Collar

Fandom: Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles + my OC’s

Warnings; Getting shocked, scarring, stutter development from being shocked, etc (honestly, not as angsty as the previous fics)

Summary: It was only a prank. He found this weird collar, remembering that his uncle invented it and showed it to him. He thought it was fine. But then he just couldn’t take it off. It malfunctioned.

——————————————————————————————————

“Matt, we’re going to get in trouble for sneaking in here. You know how Uncle Tello feels about us being in here!” Nico hisses in a whisper, moving in alert and light on his feet.

He wasn’t sure how Matt talked him into entering their family’s vault of old stuff that they kept over the years, but here he was. Matt claimed he wanted to find something he could use to play a prank on his dad’s. Especially Leo, who despite being the leader of the Resistance, still found time to play little pranks on Matt.

“It’s fine. Quit whining!” Matt sighed, going through the boxes, he found a hippo costume, some old tech and weird looking clothes.

He holds up a purple costume with a big hat, scrunching his nose up in confusion.

Is this what they wore in the past? Lame.

He hums, looking around before noticing a sealed door, he tilts his head, walking over and tapping it, inspecting on how to get it open.

He noticed a password panel on the side.

What was something Uncle Donnie would use?

He perks up, typing up what he believed was the correct answer.

Bootyyyshaker9000.

It beeps with a green light as the door opens to reveal more things, this time his eyes focused on a blue bulky collar.

“Awesome…”

He picks it up, observing it as Nico walked over, puzzled by this contraption. “Is that a collar?” He questioned, touching it slightly as Matt chuckled and slipped it over his own head, wearing it.

“Looks neat on me, right?”

“It looks stupid on you.”

“Don’t be a hater, just because you wouldn’t be able to pull this off.” Matt waved him off, walking out the room before he bumped into someone, making him grunt and stumble backwards, looking up and making when he saw both Leo and Donnie staring down at him, hands on hips, looking unamused.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Leo questions, narrowing his eyes slightly as Donnie eyed the collar, “And why are you wearing my invention?” He added, Matt gulping and chuckling awkwardly.

“Uh…just you know, cleaning up the place?” He lies, and quite horribly to as Nico face palms, shaking his head as Leo crossed his arms over his plastron.

“Uh huh, sure. You’re lucky this thing doesn’t seem to be on.”

“Why?”

Donnie steps in, clearing his throat. “It’ll shock you.” He bluntly states, making Matt widen his has. “Shock me? Awesome.” He grins, tapping around on the collar, before he accidentally taps the button on the front, flinching when it buzzed to life.

“Shit! Okay, Matt! Whatever you do, don’t make any jokes. Donnie.” Leo orders, sweating before gazing to his brother who nods, “On it.” He assures, reaching down as Matt blinked and tilts his head.

“So, I’m guessing I turned it on?”

They nod.

“Wow, shocker.” He smiled, as it just slipped out, unaware that this was going to be the start of something agonising. The collar beeps, before it suddenly shifts and sent electricity onto Matt who widen his eyes and screamed, falling to his knees.

“Matt!” Nico exclaimed, watching in bewilderment as Matt squirmed and choked on the electrical currents. The collar stops as Matt coughs, panting heavily.

Wow…that hurt.

“Son! Are you okay?” Leo panicked, crouching down to him as Matt shakes, looking at his father with fearful eyes. Before he could respond, the collar beeps, which only confused everyone as Matt hadn’t even made a joke.

Another wave of electricity hits Matt who tenses, seizing as he collapsed to the floor, yelling as though his body was on fire.

“It’s…malfunctioning!” Donnie announced, unsure what to do when his neither was being shocked. “O-Off! Take it—ah! Off me!” Matt begs, tears forming as he managed to take a breather, curling slightly as Leo glared at Donnie.

“Get it off him!”

Donnie steps forward, but jumped back when the collar shocks again, the young mutant wailing as he seizes on the floor from the pain engulfing his physique.

Hurts, hurts, hurts, hurts!

Matt wheezes in greedy air when the shock stops, Donnie quickly ran over, gripping at the collar and pulling it off him, he throws the device to the side and checked over Matt who lays numbly in his arms.

“He needs medical treatment. Those shocks were far more powerful than what they normally use to be. It could affect him.”

He picks up Matt and quickly ran off towards the medbay, Leo and Nico chasing after them.

-----

Since then, Matt had some issues speaking. While it wasn’t terrible, he sometimes stuttered, and his body would sometimes twitch as though he got shocked.

He had light scarring around his neck but nothing major as they would be healed up in a few days' time.

“S-sorry. For all th-this.” Matt apologises to his father and uncle, clicking his tongue in annoyance at his stutter. He hoped it would go away soon.

“It’s all right…just, no more sneaking and taking anything that your uncle Donnie has made.” Leo smiles, mostly relieved that his son seemed alright in the long run.

“Right….why w-was the collar the-there?”

Leo rubs the back of his neck, “Uh…well, it was actually made for me. To stop me from making jokes.” He awkwardly informs, recalling the day. It was a bit fuzzy to remember that long ago, but he did remember the collar and its initial use.

“It su-sucked.”

“Yeah…yeah it did.”

——————————————————————————————————

Bad things happen bingo (OPEN)

[sepublic]

I realized that the Emperor Ing and the Preeminent remind me of one another. They’re both rulers of a dark realm and a race of ethereal beings that can possess people and objects, distorting them to match their aesthetics. I guess this makes Nya/Pixal the same as Samus (especially with the use of technology and bulky armor that hides her face and true gender), and Morro is Dark Samus?

Or we could instead compare the Preeminent to Metroid Prime’s true form, and give her a humanoid body when she possesses a Samurai X suit/mech. Metroid Prime’s armor and Stiix play the same protective mech role, the order the two phases are fought in are just reversed.

What if we took Kaiju Protocol’s idea of Pixal having her own solo adventures and gave her a Metroid plot. She could and would scan everything like in the Prime games.

[marastriker]

List of Gripes I have with Wembley Starlight Express

No one can skate. And I mean this, no one is stable or confident on their skates. StEx alumni just saw the show recently and have corroborated this same sentiment.

You keep putting these poor kids who play Control in danger around people who can't skate! I am worried they're going to get hurt at any given moment!

That being said, the kids are also annoying as hell, I personally prefer when Control is a voice from above and not an actual actor.

Everyone does not need to be British, especially the UNION PACIFIC ENGINE? UNION PACIFIC IS AN AMERICAN COMPANY.

Pumping Iron and Uncoupled sound absolutely ridiculous in British accents.

Also introducing GB as a union pacific is hilarious when she looks nothing like one

Female GB is also. A Choice.

Why was it necessary to change I'm so beautiful to I'm so pretty? What was the point? It does not carry the same weight or rhythm. She sounds stupid as hell saying it too

Costumes are bulky and awkward, which probably contributes to no one really being all that confident on the skates.

The inflatables during AC/DC was the dumbest decision on the face of the planet. Who approved this.

Electra and components are giving......Aryan Race 😬

Which, speaking of the inflatables, would not be great if they were pointing in the opposite direction. I know they're supposed to be lightning bolts, but-

I actually want to choke Dinah. She's so annoying. She used to be my favorite coach, and Wembley made an absolute mockery of her. Especially making fun of the southern accent she's had in previous productions. That really is in the nail in the coffin for how much they treat her as a joke.

Acting overall not good, ngl.

Singing needs some god damn work. You do not have to belt every fucking line, GB.

Pearl is. Like an anime girl. /derogatory

Hate that most of the costumes are a copy paste, all the freight looking the same, all the engines looking the same, all the components looking the same. They all have the same silhouettes. Which is not good character design, despite having different colors (except for the components lol). If it makes sense for a group, sure, but I have a feeling Gabriella Slade just got lazy doing this thrice over.

You make all these new characters and now the narrative doesn't make sense anymore, congratulations! You put more work into shoehorning Hydra into the plot than any of the other freight. The engines have zero personality or unique traits. The only characters that are "new" are the ones that aren't really new: Belle and Tassita. There was a groundwork for them from the 2017 workshop. Everyone else was thought up within 5 minutes.

This isn't exhaustive, just cause those are the things that bother me the most that I could think of off the top of my head. I truly am so disappointed with this whole production

[transformersandturtles]

IT'S DONE!!!

The final look at the end for Steelcoil is not their final coloration. I just wanted to mess around with colors and try to show that they are now a performer rather than a soldier now. :)

I will eventually design their human companion, but for now please take this Steelwing animation thing while I plot more chaos for them. 💜

Same warnings as last time, GLITCH AFFECT AND NOW BRIGHT COLORS AT THE END. NOTHING IS FLASHING BUT I WANT TO BE SAFE AND WARN Y'ALL WHO MAY BE PHOTOSENSITIVE. 💜💜

more stuff under the cut

I'm wanting to give Steel a performer name, like how there's Gravedigger (biggest inspo), Monster Mutt, El Toro Loco, Megalodon, etc. I'm still figuring it out, but I'm hoping to get it all done soon. I know no one cares, but I love my OC and want to cause chaos with them. :3

Steel does still have their visor, but it's more of something they can take off and put on. They only had it on during the war full time to hide their 'crying'

I do also like to think that it shows how much Steel changes through the years, and how I imagine them to change from the seasons.

They're very naive yet stubborn and prideful. They used to be a loose cannon and never followed orders and did their own thing. Even with a bulky alt mode on Cybertron, they were racing and doing crazy things that often got them hurt and visiting medbays. But after meeting Blitzwing they stopped being as reckless cause they didn't want to worry him. Sure, they still did dumb shit but not as often anymore.

During the war, their mood is much more quiet and loyal. Mostly being in a depressive state when Blitzwing was labeled MIA, unaware that Black Arachnia was experimenting on him to make him s triple changer. When they reunite however, Blitz has some corrupted data so his memories of them are a blur but since they're Conjunx and had spark bonded before splitting, there was definitely a sense of deja vu and other odd feelings that scattered his processor until they were able to restore those memories. Now with Hothead and Random, it does make things difficult at times when Steel is getting used to it all, but it doesn't take long for them to get along with HH and R. Especially Hothead. Expressive and passionate in a way that definitely gets Steelcoil fired up for anything.

On Earth, they're absolutely each other's number one supporters. With Megatron gone, Steelcoil's loyalty definitely starts to dwindle. They were never truly evil or anything like the others, they were just very chaotic and believed in the original idea of the Decepticon cause though it has now spiraled into something they don't align with. The only reason they stayed was because Blitz was still loyal, and because they liked breaking things when they got fired up. And what's better than breaking random stuff? Breaking Autobots! They don't hate the Autobots but they don't like them either. They're kind of Neutral, but damn do the Autobots get on their nerves. Especially when they try to ruin their Monster Truck rallies! They do it for fun and yet Optimus or Bumblebee or Prowl show up before their performance to "stop" them. That always grinds their gears which leads to a big fight. Sometimes their human companion steps in, or they abandon the fight to show off instead. Blitzwing is always watching from the skies in his jet mode, and it's easy to survey the area but also focus on his Conjunx. He hardly intervenes in fights because he knows Steelcoil is more than capable. They may not be a huge seeker, but they're a sturdy grounder who doesn't take scrap from anyone!

[deadly-espresso]

(OC: Argo)

Yup... here's the argonaut Toon! If you couldn't tell... she's a pirate who's constantly looking for booty to plunder! Translate that from nautical jargon... and I mean she's looking for treasures to collect...

Being an octopus and all (Argonauts are a kind of octopus, and Argo is specifically supposed to be a greater argonaut/Argonauta argo), Argo's a master of stealthiness and stealing. Not only can she blend into the environment and slip through many cracks unnoticed, but she can also unlock things with ease using her limbs and use her ink to flee many scenes. She specifically uses her ink jet as her active ability, which not only helps her flee Twisteds, but also leaves them blinded, briefly preventing them from chasing fellow Toons.

On the Dandy's World TV show, Argo would have played the role of a reoccurring antagonist, although she was more affable than Shrimpo. Her plots more often required Toons to go on vast adventures to find her in order to retrieve something. When not getting into devious schemes or playing tricks on other Toons, Argo often showed a softer, more benevolent side to herself as the guardian/stepmother of Finn, who seems to have picked up plenty of marine biology facts and fish jokes from her.

Notes about Argo's active ability, Ink Jet:

Note 1: Ink Jet specifically boosts Argo's walk and run speed by 50 units for 1 second. Therefore, under normal conditions, her walk speed will be buffed to 62.5 and her run speed will be buffed to 72.5 during the dash.

Note 2: Argo is completely safe from Twisted attacks for 9 frames (0.15 seconds) during the dash.

Note 3: The blinding affects Twisteds for 8 seconds. They can still walk in this state, but they cannot chase Toons and also cannot detect Toons through visual presence while blinded. They can still detect audio cues such a failed Skill check, a use of the Air Horn, or the "Speak" active ability, but they still can't chase Toons.

Note 4: The only Twisteds that can't be blinded by Ink Jet are Twisted Connie and Twisted Dandy.

Note 5: Amusingly, Ink Jet can be used on Twisted Glisten while he is in his passive state, but this is more of a harm than a help since it makes him briefly unable to detect the presence of other Toons to keep reducing his meter. He will also comment on you blinding him if you do this.

Some extra trivia about her:

Argo really does speak a lot in nautical jargon, leading to plenty of bonuses for older watchers who did know about these words.

The reason why Argo can hang out with landlubbers- or I mean land-dwellers... is because she can breathe on land provided that her skin remains nice and moist. That said, she can quickly face issues with breathing if she's in a dry or especially hot environment. Living on land has also led to her acquiring a somewhat more bulky build than most Toons, since plenty of muscle is needed in order to carry her boneless body on land.

Argo views Shrimpo as dead weight... and also thinks he smells incredibly delicious. The only thing really holding Argo back from just eating him is that it would probably be too much of a scare for a Toon to devour another Toon.

Argo actually used to be popular with in-universe Dandy's World fans- especially among the older fans- due her hilarious hijinks, easy-on-the-eyes design, and use of nautical jargon, even though she was supposed to not be a role model for the target audience (She's a kleptomaniac, and you wouldn't want kids to be obsessed with stealing, right?). She would unfortunately later be abandoned and upersoned from the Gardenview Center due to a controversy in 2001 where moral guardians complained about her and another character (who I might reveal later) being "unsuitable for young audiences".

Argo and Batyr are friends, and they've even teamed up for an adventure or two. The two have plenty on common due to being skilled in stealth and blending in with their surroundings.

Looey is a common subject of Argo's pranks, and Looey also admires Argo for her skills in contortion.

Argo's favorite kind of coffee to buy from Essa is Arabic coffee.

Glisten doesn't like Argo for stealing his valuables and shaping Finn's sense of humor.

Argo finds Poppy to be adorable.

(Here's her transparent art too)

[bibibbon]

Characters with wasted potential: Bakugo Katsuki (rant)

Look as much as I don't and I mean DON'T like bakugo I have to admit that Horikoshi's favouritism has caused the own downfall of his own favourite character which is just sad.

There are many things I don't like with bakugo which are :

HIS ATTITUDE. I know hori was going for the moody deuteragonist trope but it fails horribly when it comes to bakugo because the guy has NOTHING AND I MEAN NOTHING to be angry about. This guy basically won the lifes lottery so by making him like this he literally just comes of as an aggressive, ungrateful child.

HIS REDEMPTION ARC. His redemption arc was utter and complete BS I mean he literally still does bulky izuku and others but it's just being treated as a gag instead of him learning not to and why it's bad. Also what makes it so bad is the lack of izukus pov and personal thoughts/emotions about it like izuku is the victim so we should see his negative and positive emotions towards bakugo and we should see bakugo take all of these emotions and try his best to make it up to izuku and change

HIS INTERACTION WITH OTHER CHARACTERS. I have no idea what those MHA stats were but they were horrible and why is it that every single time bakugo interacts with a character they will end up thinking he is cool and worthy of respect when he CLEARLY ISN'T.

LACK OF CHALLENGES. In my opinion, as a character bakugo doesn't go through enough obstacles or challenges and if he does he always has someone who goes through it with him like his whole I caused all mights downfall thing or the failed provisional license exam thing were so horrible in my opinion

A LACK OF CONSEQUENCES. Bakugo lacks consequences for a lot of his actions like the suicide incident and many other things. The problem is when he does finally receive the consequences it's always him and another character which doesn't make sense especially when izuku also got house arrest for what? Defending himself.?!?!

Bakugo could of clearly been a well written character that would be involved in the plot when necessary. Honestly, I hate bakugo and if it were to me I would have him erased as a character from the plot or bring in ORIGINAL BAKUGO!!! Who was soooo much better then the canon bakugo we have now!

But if we were to go with the 1st option of keeping bakugos character the same I would :

Change his attitude or actually give him something to have that type of attitude. Honestly, it's so infuriating that this guy only knows how to be an angry Pomeranian and it irritates me even more when he has nothing to be angry about. I know it's said in the manga that bakugo has a nasty attitude due to whatever mixture of superiority and inferiority complex he has and while you can do that and explore it a whole lot more like how did this happen? Where does it stem from? And stuff like that. It would be good to do something like that and Involve/show how society contributes to making these type of people which you can then use to expand on the world building that MHA lacks in. Or alternatively, you can give bakugo a reason to be angry all the time but in my opinion you already have so many of those characters so it would be better to stick with the first option.

Make him have obstacles and more realisations while gradually propping and hinting at a redemption arc. In my opinion it should of taken the entirety of the series for bakugo to have a redemption arc and when that arc is finished DONT GIVE HIM HIS OWN VILLAIN TO FIGHT. If you wanted him to fight someone make him fight himself and his own ideas. Also I think his development should start from the moment he gets saved by izuku and all might from the sludge villain where we can see him realise that maybe he has been lied to and that he isn't as great as he thought he was or everyone thought he was. He can also try and start focusing on what he has done or what he has been doing and at first you can have him ignore it, ignore it, ignore it and still not change until he reaches rock bottom in one of the earlier arcs preferably early season 3 when he fails the final exams BECAUSE HE SHOULD OF AND JUSTICE TO SERO!!!

Change the way characters interact with him. At first I loved how class 1A didn't like bakugo and viewed him as annoying and all of that and I think this should of continued until bakugo himself starts seeking for change during the training camp arc. Probably also have aizawa and other teacher reprimand him for his actions like the battle trials we don't see Katsuki receive any consequences just him on a verge of a mental break down and that's it. Also, we should definitely have more of Katsuki and best jeanist because let's be honest it was only best jeanist that tried to help bakugo and guide him in the right direction. You could also have him interact with all might but scrap the whole I got kidnapped and ruined all mights career I find it better if it were izuku to get kidnapped during the training camp arc.

Give him CONSEQUENCES. Iam all for Katsuki getting consequences for his own actions and faults and I feel like he should of got them during the battle trials, failing the provisional license exam alone, the final exams(he should of failed that fight with all might). Also I don't think he should be expelled from UA but I do think he should have more of a severe consequence that's NOT him getting anger management classes or therapy because that's not really a punishment. The idea might work if you also add him getting house arrest or losing a clean record and getting those types of classes but just that doesn't work for me

Lack of challenges. Katsukis character arc would work great if we focused more on his challenges and him ACTUALLY LOSING and not winning all the time. Realistically speaking there are many challenges bakugo can go through which are: having to realise he isn't the best and there are people better then him, he should treat people with respect, his behaviour towards izuku and other kids he bullied was bad, him trying to differentiate himself from endeavour and become a better hero and human being then endeavour by redeeming himself, his superiority and inferiority complexes.

Overall, Katsuki in this role should of been someone who is arrogant and has basically won lifes lottery but then he gets into UA and realises "oh Iam not as special or stronger then everyone else" which could then cause him to become insecure aka que the superiority and inferiority complexes which he develops out of and slowly redeems himself and becomes a symbol of how society can create bad people by too much praise or just thinking they are superior and how these people can go on to them become heros or people that society is supposed to trust and praise when they don't deserve it. Something that bugs me is how katsukis character mainly focuses on just izuku and whenever izuku is mentioned Katsuki has to be mentioned or vice versa.

Also it would if been better if you emphasised on the Katsuki and endeavour Parallels and don't redeem endeavour but redeemed Katsuki. Also, have Katsuki and todoroki have a difficult relationship it's out of character for todoroki to get along with someone like Katsuki. You can then explore the relationship and have Katsuki change and todoroki interact a bit more with him or something of the sort.

ALSO WHEN WE GET AN APOLOGY LET IT NOT BE WHEN IZUKU IS ON THE VERGE OF DEATH AT HIS MOST VULNERABLE AND LET HIM HAVE SOME THOUGHTS ABOUT IT

Ps: this is my opinion!! And I think I could of done more justice for bakugo but Iam not his biggest fan so ... Yeah. If I missed something definitely add it !