#:deathgrip: :deathgrip: ''what is happening what is HAPPENING''

[h0rnyauth0r]

having no thoughts, head empty, just thinking about ghost fucking you while you have your radio tuned into graves’ station, who has a thing for you <333

if you’re not at least 16 pls dni, idc if you read but i don’t want you interacting!

tws: choking, outdoor sex, technically phone sex i suppose?, unprotected sex, cumming inside, reader has a vagina and is called a girl

the tension between the two of you had snapped like a rubberband. so quickly, and yet at the same time agonizingly slow. while everyone else spends their time worrying about the mission at hand and killing the bastard, ghost has his hand grasping onto your throat in a deathgrip as his hips slam into your ass.

he has you bent over on a slab of concrete out in the open, radio pressed and against your mouth as you let out struggled  gasps and moans. he’s smirking underneath his mask as your walls clench around his cock, knowing that graves is likely fuming in jealousy.

his little crush on you was embarrassing, and hearing you cream on his enemy’s dick makes it worse. that sends ghost into a frenzy as his hand on your throat moves down to your clit, rubbing fast and hard circles into it.

he notices that you’re stifling noises the slightest bit, anger bubbling up as he stops moving. “go on then, scream. make him know who fucks you this good.” he growls out, thrusting particularly hard against you.

you feel so close to cumming, but it all crashes down when his fingers leave your throbbing bud. you cry out in annoyance. “p-please!” you feel tears welling up in your eyes.

“please what? what should i do? go on.” he says smugly, moving his hips the slightest amount in an attempt to tease you.

you clench your eyes shut, “fuck me. god, ghost. i want you to make me cum on your cock.” you feel your face heat up knowing that there’s more than just a few men who can hear you.

“good girl.” he whispers in your ear, quickly returning to his previous movements. this time, however, he pushes you deeper into the concrete and his fingers abuse at your clit harder than before.

your orgasm approaches rather quickly, loud moans and occasional screeches of pleasure escaping your sore throat as he fucks into you so good.

you feel his hand that grasps onto the radio also grab at your throat, squeezing and pulling your head back for his eyes to meet yours. his eyes bore into yours, and you fight the urge to close your eyes to look away from him.

he knows he’s ruining you when your eyes roll back and your pussy clenches around him tightly and you gasp out his codename with nails digging into the concrete.

your orgasm feels euphoric as he keeps rubbing your clit well past the end, his choking making the pleasure almost dizzying as you forget where you are and what’s happening.

your walls keep spasming around him as his thrust become sloppier, indication that he’s going to cum soon. in this moment, you want his cum inside of you so badly that it’s making you drool.

he almost cums just from the lewd sight, tits out and bouncing and your eyes watery as you stare at him like you’re about to pass out. he allows his fingers to squeeze a bit harder, an odd choking and moaning sound struggling to escape your throat.

he lets out what sounds like a mix of a grunt and a groan as you feel his cum fill your pussy up, and the feeling alone makes you cum for the second time against him.

his thrusts slowly stop and he releases your throat, noticing how hot you look with his fingerprints bruising your neck. he doesn’t pull out for a minute as he catches his breath but once he does the radio picks up with sound.

“ghost, you’re a dead man.” it’s graves talking, and he simply shuts the radio off.

your legs feel like jelly in the moment as you turn around and sit on the rough concrete, having your pants as a blanket so your ass doesn’t rub on it. you look at the large man in front of you, watching as he tucks his cock away into his pants.

he looks back up at you and moves closer to you, ducking down to your height and staring into your eyes. “you’re okay?” he asks gruffly.

you nod slowly, grabbing onto your panties and sliding them onto your sore body. “that was interesting.” is all you say, feeling him lift you and help you put on your gear.

after you’re dressed, you get ready to head back to where everyone else is but he grabs onto your wrist and stops you. “wait.” he says to you quietly, the sound of fabric moving filling your ears..

you turn towards him and feel his lips on yours, kissing you roughly as his hands dig into your hips. after he pulls away from you, he pushes his mask back down and smacks your ass roughly.

“be careful. we have a lot ahead of us, yeah?”

it’s not much, but it makes you smile. he doesn’t need to say he cares about you, but he shows it in such an obvious manner.

***

note: i haven’t written smut in a while so i’m sorry if it’s not good <3 thanks for reading!

[zwolfgames]

Yandere Draco Malfoy x reader (Part 3)

Requested by: /

Warnings: Talks of murder, unlogical magic use, abuse of spells, violence and yandere stuff.

Parts: Part 1 , Part 2

And it was ass-

Draco woke up early to do his hair, insisting that he'd do yours aswell. And no, you were never as high end as him, so getting all these forgein products put into your hair wasn't pleasant.

He began choosing your weekend outfits. Styled your school robes when he didn't approve of how ruffled they were, he even went as far as to push you into the bathroom to shower when he found you too greasy. By wich you mean everyday....

You hadn't expected the blonde to be such a control freak, but he was. Okay, maybe you should have... 

Currently, you were simply walking down a secluded hall.. again, when the statue next to you and Draco let its axe drop.

You weren't fast enough to completly save your most controlling friend, tough you did pull him into you out of reflex. A bleeding cut was created on his left arm... but it was better then getting an axe trough your head, you suppose.

Draco screams out in angony and you wince as the sound hurt your ears.

You drag the fool with you to the infirmairy while he's crying out in pain, hoping you get there before he passes out because in no way are you strong enough to carry this lanky kid.

You grit your teeth as you think back to the now thrid attempt at Draco's life. What student even has the balls to attempt this even once? And how had the teachers not caught them?

And why is Harry Potter staring at you and Draco from behind a corne-

What.

You whip your head around to face the chosen one who freezes as he's caught.

"I can explain-" He stutters out with his hands up to show his innocence.

"Did you try to kill him?" You ask simply while Draco's just screaming.

"No-"

"Okay." You turn back around and keep walking, you had bigger problems then Potter's questions right now.

"What? No wait-" He runs after you as you keep walking.

You don't really react as you keep dragging Draco away to the infirmairy.

Mrs.Pomfrey gasps in shock as you bring Draco in, she immeadiatly gets to work and you can finally drop the screaming blonde onto a bed, tough he's mostly just crying now.

Draco demands that you hold his other hand while Pomfery heals his arm.

So you suck up your free will and sit next to his bedside to hold his hand.

Harry hasn't left... Just stares at the scene in confusion.

"Why are you friends with Malfoy?" The dark haired boy asks.

You eye him for a moment, as you've never talked before.

"I'm not." You shrug and Draco almost snarls.

".. You are." The blonde croaks out in pain, just to correct you.

You roll your eyes and Harry's frown tightens.

"Do you have any clue's on who's trying to kill him?" Harry asks, as if the target isn't right by you two.

"A student, thats all I know. And if you're going to be asking questions atleast make it less obvious that you're interogating us." You scoff and the boy bites his lip, pushing his glasses back up.

"I want to help-" 

"Yourself. We know." 

You finish for him and he looks baffled.

"Thats not what I was going to say." Harry frowns more, fidgeting with his sleeves.

"But it was what you meant. It's a student, thats all I know. Now shoo because the more I talk to you the harder this git squishes my hand." You side glare at Draco who is currently glaring at Harry.

"Then let go of him. He'll be fine on his own, come help us search." Harry suggests a bit calmly now.

Wow, you've never tought of just letting go- Ofcourse you had! Draco just had a deathgrip on your hand.

"This doesn't concern you, Potter." You shake your head. Harry steps closer to look you in the eye.

"No, it does concern me. Nothing at this school ever happens without Voldemort being behind it, it has to be some kind of elaborate plan to get the schools defences down." Harry tries to convince you.

"Ah yes, killing Lucius' son is gonna bring all of Hogwarts down! The worst it's gonna do is have Draco's dad sue the school or something." You explain.

"You know his father?" Harry asks in disbelief. "Well not personally, why?" You ask in confusion, eyebrows scrunching together.

"He's evil." Harry whispers as if he isn't being glared at by the blonde.

"Yea so? Thats not my problem?" You shrug again and ignore the pulling on your hand from a clearly annoyed Slytherin.

"What? That... Y/N, just help us, you're with Draco all the time, and you've saved him too. We can solve this together." Harry starts again with his proposal.

"No, Potter, let the teachers solve things for once, go study or something. And why do you know my name?" You narrow your (e/c) eyes.

Harry stiffens. From what you've heard of Draco's shittalking, he's quite the stalker. Tough you'd never expected to be a victim of it.

"Don't worry about it, you're well known-"

"I'm not."

"You're friends with a Malfoy."

"I'm not." You repeat again.

"..You are.." Draco buts in again.

You sigh at the absurdity of this all. Harry wanted that thrill of mystery. Draco wanted a friend he could control and you just wanted to pass this year.

Very diffrent wants and needs. Not compatible.

So you'd ditch them both.

Easy as that.

When Draco was allowed out of the infirmairy you helped him back up to your shared room and ran off as fast as you could.

Two goals in mind, catch the mystery person and avoid everyone else.

So, out of pure desperation, you stole a polyjuice potion from proffesor Snape's supply. How, you may ask. You snuk a letter up under the door of his office that said he was needed by Dumbledore in terms of his potions career. It couldn't be too obvious, but it seems you had nailed it.

So without furder ado, you threw a hair of your blonde 'friend' into the potion. You had snatched a Slytherin tie from his closet. Quite an idiotic descicion to let you live in his dorm...

Oh well. You were transformed in a matter of minutes, tried to adjust the now blonde hair back to how neat Draco usually had it and set off to go find the most secluded and dark places off the castle.

If they wanted Draco malfoy dead, then they'd have to try harder.

It didn't take long before you felt watched. But you had to keep the cocky air up around you. Chin up, back straight. 

And bam! A spell again! Right past your face from behind. Since you weren't actually Draco, you had been on guard. And this time this sucker wasn't getting away.

You chugged down a speed potion, accio-ing your broom as you ran after the person. Draco's height aided your sprint, tough you hoped the polyjuice potion didn't affect your own pyshical abilities because you doubt that Draco could hold up running as long as you.

Your broom flew into your hand not long after, stealing tricks from Potter wasn't a bad idea as long as no-one saw it!

You didn't even sit on the long stick, no time for that. You just let it drag you along as it flew. You didn't know brooms could even work like that, but your will power was enough for it to do so.

You pushed off against walls as you followed this person into the darker parts of the castle. Deeper into the dungeons. They must have realised long ago that you weren't Draco, or they'd have tried something to hurt you.

Glidinf off of stairs, ignoring the harsh thuds you made against walls and the layers of skin under your pants that were getting torn up by your landing and frantic turns and collisons.

It could all be fixed. As long as you finally caught this damm person it would all be worth it.

With a last jump you caught onto the persons black hood, togging it off and holding in to keep them in your grip.

A feminine yelp left the wrongdoer's mouth as you threw her onto the ground. Letting your broom fly out of your hands so you could pull out you wand, aimed right at her neck.

A....

A child....

First year, maybe.... second year?

You didn't know. But you eyes widened at the sight of this... scared girl.

 But now's not the time to be weak, who knows, maybe she took a polyjuice potion too to get the wrong person jailed.

"Explain, right now." You demand in a snarl. It must have looked a lot more intimidating considering you had Draco's face at the moment... It was strange hearing his voice say your words...

"I-I only want him dead!" The girl shouts out. You stiffen and tug her up by the hair.

"And why?" You narrow your now grey eyed gaze. Glaring harshly.

"His father ruined my family! Why are you helping him!?" The girl sobbed. You weren't sure what to do...

Let a kid kill Draco or just turn her in...

You couldn't let her roam free and try again. If Draco actually died you'd be suspicious too.... And intergogated. Truth serum and bam, they had you as the one that let the murderer get away.

Is that a selfish tought?

Are you allowed to think that way?

"I'm helping him because I'm not letting someone die, Malfoy or not." You bite back.

"Thats stupid, he's using you! Let me go!" The girl tries to kick you, a quick 'Stupefy' to the face knocks her right out.

No, you made your desciscion, better safe then sorry. You'd just... deliver her to Dumbledore... Thats better then.. Snape? Better then McGonnagall? Atleast punishment wise. Maybe.. they'd just send her to therapy?

Yea.. lets believe in that...

You carried the girl out of the dungeons. Exhausted by the end of the stairs. If only you knew a spell to make bodies float, too bad thats a Potter exclusive.

After some breaks and huffs, you got to Dumbledore's way too high up office.

Trying to make the walls open or whatever, you hadn't ever been here before...

And you still looked like Draco...

Oh this day couldn't get any worse.

You managed to open the gateway, dropped the kid on a chair at Dumbledore's office and looked him in the eye.

"Malfoy, what brings you and Delaine here?" Dumbledore inquires calmly.

"It's L/N, sir. This is the girl thats been trying to kill Malfoy, excuse my looks..." You sigh and run a hand trough your- Draco's hair. Too much gel for your liking...

"L/N? I see. And how did you aquire a polyjuice potion?" Dumbledore asked with an amused smile.

He didn't look mad but you were'nt going to risk it.

"Lucius Malfoy aided me and Draco in our plan, sir." You lied spontaniously. The old man didn't seem to question it and just nodded.

....

"She isn't going to.. Azkaban, right?" You ask in a whisper.

"No... Miss Delaine hasn't killed anyone... yet. She'll be undergoing a trial. I'll be sure to give your house twenty points for your heroic behavior. You like it on the down low, don't you?" Dumbledore smiles.

You stiffen at his sudden.. correct assumption.

You tought he knew lots, but to know personal things about you? Some random student? Weirdo...

What's he? All seeing?

"You're dismissed, L/N. Be sure to visit the imfirmairy, you look quite rustled." Dumbledore advised and opens the gateway for you again.

You nod and walk out.

Only when the door closes again does your calm expression twist into guilt...

You just ruined some girls life... Not as bad as going to Azkaban... but you defenitly fucked it up..

But.. but it would have been worse for her if she had actually killed Draco. You keep repeating that all the way to the infirmairy.

Why did it have to be some kid?

You weren't sure wether to tell Draco the morning after.

You had come back to the dorm, no strange onlookers glared at you now that you looked liked Draco.

Tough you watched in the mirror as the potions' effects wore off. As the blonde melted back into (h/c) and your body became your own again.

All while you saw the person you were sleeping behind you.

He wasn't even tucked in correctly...

So you did that first... then went to bed yourself.

And now here you were, with Draco gushing over how amazing you looked with the Slytherin tie and how you should steal his clothes more often.

You refrained from looking angry since he didn't need to know all about your reasons for it.

A shame you forgot to change before going to sleep...

He made you wear that tie for the whole day.

It was like a claim.

You weren't sure how you felt about this whole 'friendship' anymore now that the murder problem had been resolved...

Maybe you'd just stick around untill one of the teachers officially announces that the case was solved.

You just wanted your old friends back, your old roomates...

But luck was never on your side.

Not a week after, it had been revealed, wich seemed good. You weren't mentioned, just like Dumbledore knew you wanted.

But oh boy. Someone else knew.

Lucius Malfoy.

The man himself came to visit Hogwarts and singled you and Draco out after dinner.

Exposing your heroic deeds and making Draco like you even more.

he assumed you cared about him to do all this. You just had the basic human decency to not let someone die.

Thats all there was to it.

Atleast on your side.

After Lucius' visit, Draco didn't let you leave him like you had planned.

And you were finally fed up.

Packing your stuff, you'd just move back to your dorm without asking.

"What do you think you're doing?" Draco stood in the doorway. Closing the door behind him as he walked in.

"Moving back. The murder is solved." You state calmly, trying not to provoke anything in the blonde.

"Y/N, you can't do that." He shakes his head and opens your wardrobe again to put your clothes back.

"I can. I've helped you, it's over now." You refuse and put the clothes back in your suitcase.

Draco's face twists into a frown as he comes closer.

"We're not over."

"That isn't what I said-"

"You're mine, Y/n."

Draco announces so directly you needed a moment for the shock to pass so that that cringe feeling could swarm over you.

"Excuse me?" You ask in offence.

"You're mine. In everyway a person could be mine." Draco elaborates, it isn't making his words any better."

"You're sounding absurd." You facepalm but your wrist gets snatched and pulled to his chest.

"You don't understand. I want you in every way there is to want. You're my soulmate. Platonically, Romantically- whatever ally there is. You're the first true friend I've had. You're mine." Draco grins slightly... pshycotically.

Sure mental problems are allowed but keep them to yourself, jeez.

"Did someone make you chug a love potion? Go sober up in the corner and then we'll talk." You keep your cool. Even if you're freaking out on the inside. He isn't acting normal. This has to be a potion of somekind.

Surely it is.

"My father has already agreed that I can court you, Y/N. Don't you see how good this could be for you.?" Draco smiles, trying to convince you of his ultimate love.

You cringe and try to back away, but the blonde just backs you up more into the wardrobe.

"Don't fight our bond." Draco whispers rather creepily.

You'd rather fight both the bond and him if you could choose.

But the moment that you did, or well, attempted to punch him, you were out like a light.

Just like that girl you caught, Draco had 'stupefied' you too.

Knocked out cold for him to gush over.

He just needed a friend that wouldn't leave him.

A friend that wasn't fake.

And you were perfect, seeing as you had no trouble insulting him.

So you were his.

You'd stay his.

You had chosen wrong.

_____☆_____

Kinda lame ending, I know.

But I mean, good enough for a long ass one shot like this. Coudln't let it get too long.

Requests are always open. This is also on Wattpad (its one whole chapter there), and request can be done there too! Whatever you prefer!

have a nice day/night <3

_____☆_____

Words: 5210 (If you read all three parts)

taglist: @maggiecc

[fractiflos]

What happened to AFO seems like the most extreme 'big sister syndrome' that has ever existed to me.

It is one thing looking after a younger sibling since you were a little kid as well as them.

But literally, the second after they were born?

If AFO had not took Yoichi's hand with the deathgrip of all the deathgrip and cling into their mother's corpse, he would have just drown in the river and got eaten by rats.

What do you think?

As a big sister myself, I agree.

There have definitely been times where I looked after my little sister by choice and helped her, but we have parents who put a roof over our heads and bought us food. The Shigaraki Twins did not. And with AFO being literally bigger and healthier than Yoichi, of course he was the one who went out to get them food. They had no one else to rely on but AFO, leaving him with the responsibility of caring for himself and for a sick child.

Side note: I find it interesting that AFO clung to his brother. In the manga panel, they ended up far apart after being born (far for a newborn) and yet, AFO didn't first climb up to the scent of milk, but reached for his brother, who had no use for his survival, and saved him. My only theory for that is he was scared and overwhelmed by the sudden new environment and reached for the one familiar thing he knew. And then he never let go.

[bloomingdarkgarden]

people clinging to sjm's words from interviews that are now three years old or whatever like she didn't just completely rewrite the trajectory of her own novel in a few weeks and publish it regardless lol.

Like... this woman literally said x and x and x will happen in her newest book- not just concepts or themes but actual events and storylines. And in the end she just... didn't?

Does that not tell us all we need to know?

idk just something to consider for those holding a deathgrip on her commentary. What readers should truly be grasping is that SJM herself is a completely unreliable narrator lol.

[serpercival]

Having Big Realizations today that are literally changing the way I look at media and it's because of this post:

I've been looking at Doctor Who wrong, I think. I grew up on it. It's been in my life with alarming consistency since I was 2, because that's when Rose was on for the first time, so I have this picture of what Doctor Who is "supposed" to be that's intrinsically tied to the Eccleston/Tennant era of the show.

I've been watching Classic Who, of course. I started on the Pertwee era and have been working through, and it's fun! I can look at it and see the connections between it and Modern Who, even if there are differences. But I wasn't just raised on TV that was on, I watched a lot of Farscape and Mystery Science Theater and TOS/TNG, which means I'm used to the style.

Then there are the Whittaker seasons, and I feel totally disconnected from them. Everything is sweeping and cinematic and doesn't really feel like the shows of the past.

But it feels like other shows that are on today.

I grew up on a standard of TV that was "things that feel like Warehouse 13, Eureka, and Lost". Things that feel like the Eccleston/Tennant era. And I'm familiar with and like other shows from the 3-7 era, MASH and TNG and probably other things, where the camera angles and story structure are Like That.

Doctor Who today has definitely suffered some Disneyfication, but that's because everything has suffered Disneyfication. Marvel movies and media have influenced everything to an astounding degree, but that's no different from things that have happened in the past!

1-2 are Twilight Zone and Hitchcock Presents

3-4 are TOS and Bond and MASH

5-7 are Quantum Leap and Red Dwarf

9-10 are Lost and Warehouse 13 and Eureka

11-12 are early Marvel and The Good Place and Black Mirror

and 13-15 are what's popular now, Our Flag Means Death and Good Omens and Stranger Things and everything else that has been thoroughly influenced by Disney and Marvel's deathgrip on media.

That's not a bad thing, and it took until now for me to realize that.

Doctor Who would not still be on if it didn't adapt and change. It has to adapt, has to regenerate, has to change the way it's presented. And fuck it, I'm going to dig in and enjoy it by the standards of media today, not by the standards of my nostalgia.

[fatuifucker]

afab!reader pegging a trans!scara.. (sorry lmao)

sub kitsune! trans! scaramouche x service dom kitsune! fem-sex reader

SUMMARY = your harbinger/master accidentally gets turned into a kitsune and he suddenly goes into heat. as his kitsune familiar, it's your duty to help him, right?

WARNINGS = smut, penetration (reader giving), heat, breeding mention, dacryphilia, master/servant relationship, spoilers for scaramouche’s real name, reader refers to scara a “master”

W/C = 0.9k

A/N = you should never apologise for giving me the chance to write this idea that i’ve been burying dead within my head :)) just a warning, this is more feels than actual smut bc i wanted to try something different

TAGS = @zen-daydreams, @edenialucas, @urcatbf, @nejibot, @midnxght-sweet-time, @honeyjetcoaster, @ventriloquistz

When you rushed into you and your master’s shared bedroom, you certainly weren’t expecting to see him…biting on your clothes? And touching himself?

Worry made its way into your brain as you shut the door and approached the harbinger. “Master, what happened—”

“Don’t! Don’t you dare come closer…” Scaramouche snarled, digging his nails into your jacket as he retreated back, his behavior akin to that of a cornered prey.

His tails straightened as he glared at you. Yes, tails. From what you gathered from the Fatui recruits, Dottore was messing around with some enhancements to the Balladeer’s body. Something went wrong and now he’s a kitsune just like you. But from his erratic state and this pungent scent, he’s not just a kitsune. He’s in heat.

You glided your foot across a tile to not alarm him, but it only seemed to heighten his frantic state. “Kunikuzushi. We both know that I’ve been through his thousands of times. Allow me to help you.”

You took another step. Your words didn’t seem to pacify his anxious mind, but he showed no further sign of defiance. His hands and teeth clutched onto your jacket with a hold that could only be described as a deathgrip. Wet stains — stains from crying — dyed his fair cheeks and you could see more tears pricking at the corner of his eyes. His tails were puffed up, likely from a mixture of uncertainty and fear at this foreign predicament. If a stranger were to witness Scaramouche in this state, never would they have guessed that he was the 6th Harbinger.

You felt pity. As a kitsune yourself, you know how much it hurts to be in heat. Even though Scaramouche puts on an intimidating front as a harbinger, he’s a vulnerable soul. A vulnerable soul who suddenly shifted forms and was thrusted into experiencing a terrifying and unfamiliar sensation.

“(Name)...” he panted. “the strap…I need it…”

You immediately walked over to the bed, flipping the bedsheets over and grabbing the item from underneath the bed frame. Scaramouche didn't waste any time in laying back and spreading his legs out, gritting his teeth as he waited for you. You’ve never seen him like this. And the more you heard his strangled cries, the more you felt a need to soothe him. To breed him. Wait, no, no, you couldn't think like that. Your master needed your help, you needed to alleviate his pain.

Hovering over him, you swiped away the stray strands of hair that were sticking to his face. “Shh…Kuni, it’s okay. I’m going to help you. You can trust me.”

In one swift trust, you drove your entire cock inside him, earning a garbled moan out of the harbinger. Scaramouche wrapped his arms around you, clawing at your back as he pulled you close to him. You felt him shaking under you, and you were shivering as well. To be in close proximity to another kitsune in heat was making your instincts act up. It’s the reason why your head was filled with thoughts of breeding him, of claiming him. It ached, but it is nothing compared to what Scaramouche is experiencing so you drown those thoughts down.

But Scaramouche isn’t your partner for nothing. He has been by your side for over four hundred years, and you’ve had sex with him for definitely more than four hundred times. Noticing your hitched breathing, Scaramouche moved his hand to cup your chin, raising it to face him. “Hey, this– ah! H-hurts for you too, right?”

“I can bear with it.” You kissed his neck for reassurance. “We can sort that out later. You’re a higher priority.”

At last, the Balladeer relaxed underneath you, entrusting you with complete control in caring for him. Although the two of you have been bonded for decades, this was a rare occasion. Even with you, he hides his weaknesses and pretends to be this confident egomaniac.

Maybe it’s because of your adoration and admiration for him. Maybe it’s because he feels the need to be this way because he is you’re his familiar. Even so, you swore that you would care for him and love him forever, both as a familiar and as a lover. And you are determined to fulfil that oath.

You bit into Scaramouche’s neck, suckling on that sensitive spot just as he liked before moving to lick at his fox ears. Your hands intertwined with his; a habit for the both of you whenever you engage in intercourse.

You thank yourself for requesting your master to install soundproof walls because archon knows how you would be able to face your servants later if they heard the sound of you rapidly ramming into your harbinger’s pussy while he is moaning out your name like a prayer. You shared a gaze with him: the man who saved you, the man who you swore your life to. No words were needed, for you both understood. What more is needed when you’ve been bonded with your mate for hundreds of years?

‘Thank you for being my partner.’

Your lips pressed against his as he cums, squirting out his essence as he gasped into your mouth. Smiling, you pulled out of him to admire the sloppy mess. “That was fast.”

Scaramouche scoffed. “I’m in heat, what do you expect?”

Giggling, you took the strap off before setting Scaramouche on your lap. Now that he has calmed down, you finally got a chance to admire his new ears and tails. Your hands made their way to his ears, petting them as you summoned your own tails to lace them with his. “You made me horny…” you cooed as you nuzzled into his neck.

“Mmm…how do you want it then?”

“Rub your clit against mine?”

Scaramouche chuckled, chirping a little as he got off you. “Fine, but I’m eating you out after this.

[heartsfromjeanee]

I’m Not in Love

Jake Lockley x Reader

Summary: Jake spends nights with you erratically, but you start to begin to want something more permanent. Being the closed off man he is, Jake turns down your idea and leaves, but ultimately realizes that without you, he’s nothing.

inspired by the song : I’m Not in Love by 10cc

Warnings: implied smut

If you had to describe Jake Lockley in one word, it would be confusing. One minute he can be the most closed off man you know, pushing you as far away as possible, and the next minute he has his arms wrapped around your waist while his lips attack yours, hungry and desperate.

Every time he spends the night at your place, he never fails to get up at the break of dawn, leaving as if nothing happened. It crushes your heart, hating this routine you have with each other. You wanted Jake. You wanted him more than anything else.

So, after one of your late night rendezvous, you finally worked up the courage to confront him about it.

He was sat down on the edge of the bed, lighting a cigarette, as you were lying down on your back under the sheets.

“Jake?” You called out as you began to prop yourself up against the headboard.

Taking a puff of his cigarette he turned his head toward you. “Yes, muñeca?”

You took a deep breath, his dark brown eyes staring into yours. “Well I just…What are we? I mean it’s just that you come to my place spratically, and we either end up arguing or fucking or both! I don’t know how much longer I can do it. I need stability, Jake.”

Jake didn’t say a word for a minute, before scowling. “(Y/N), you know what you were getting into when we started this, you how I am. I don’t do relationships and I never will.” Your heart sunk slightly by his words, you watched him rise from the bed, dropping the cigarette into a glass of water that had been on the nightstand. “If you caught feelings then that is on you, because I’m not in love.”

You frowned, a bubble of anger beginning to form in stomach. “Then leave! Leave! If you don’t have feelings, then never come back Jake.” You yelled out in anger, and for a moment, you could have sworn his eyes softened, a tint of sadness in them, but as quickly as that came, it left. All there was now was pure fury.

“I’d be more than happy to.” He growled out, before gather his clothes and quickly getting back into them. The last thing he put on was his cabby hat. Before leaving he took one last moment to look back at you, deep down secretly hoping that you would start begging him to come back, and stay in his arms for the night. Unfortunately for him, you just crossed your arms and kept a straight face, refusing to say another word to him. Then, he opened the door and left and that was it. You assumed that was the last of Jake Lockley you would ever see.

You spent the night sobbing. As you did for a few nights afterwards as well. The pain of him watching him walk out that door was the worst pain you experienced. No one else had made you feel like you were on top of the world like he did, and no one made you feel like you had been shot straight through the heart like him either.

Meanwhile, Jake hadn’t been doing so hot himself either. After he left your place, he sat in his cabby for an hour, debating on whether he should walk back in and apologize or not. His heart yearned for you but his pride pushed you away. Ultimatley, he ended up driving away, a deathgrip on the streering wheel, as he suppressed the overwhelming feeling of sadness that began to form within him. As the week progressed, his sadness slowly turned to anger, and he took it out on the people that were apart of the missions Khonshu gave him. He even started to pick up on more smaller crimes at night, just so he had the excuse to go and use someone as his own human punching bag. Yes it was cruel, but he didn’t know how else to cope with his own feelings, as usually you were the one able to calm him and assure him that everything would be alright.

Weeks went by. Neither of you reaching out to each other for almost a month and a half. You were too hurt to have the nerve to text or call him and he was too stubborn to go and apologize and make things right. Yet, as he sat on the couch in his apartment, he came to the realization that he wanted you in his life. No, he needed you in his life. Without you, he was turning into a man he didn’t want to be, a killing machine. He needed the softness that only you were able to bring out in him. Jake Lockley realized he loved you and he needed you back.

With that thought, he got up and looked at his phone to glance at the time. 9:03 pm. He knew a local florist shop that was open until 9:30, so he quickly left and got into his car, heading straight towards it. When inside, he got you a bouquet of red roses, the best quality ones he could find. Then he made a beeline to your place, thankful that he saw your car in the driveway, now having conformation that you were home.

Getting out of the car he walked up to the front porch of your house, standing in front of the door. He took a deep breath, raising his fist to let a knock onto the door, but stopping before doing so. He was starting to have doubts about what he was doing.

“Goddammit.” He muttered to himself. It was now or never. This was his last attempt to bring you back into his life. He stepped away from the door and began pacing back and forth as he began to think about whether or not he should be doing this.

Taking a glance back at the door, he impulsively went up to it again and gave two loud and quick knocks. His breath hitched as he realized what he had done and his heart began to race. There was no answer for about a minute and his heart dropped a bit, thinking that you didn’t want to see him ever again.

Just as he was about to call it quits and leave, he heard the lock turn, and his eyes widened. The door opened to reveal you, in a loose shirt and pajama pants, and to him, you were the prettiest sight he’d ever seen.

“Jake? What the hell-”

“I’m sorry.”

You were taken aback. Jake never said sorry for as long as you knew him. Every argument you ever had with him, the both of you would forget about it or just end up having angry sex, but never had he ended up apologizing. You stared at him for a minute, glancing down at the roses he held out to you, a nervous smile on his face.

“What are you doing here, Jake.” You asked. He hadn’t called you for weeks and left you hurt. From what he estbalished, he didn’t love you at all, so why was he back here?

Jake sighed, moving his free hand to take off his cabby hat and place it across his chest, while glancing down toward the ground. “Muñeca, I take back every word I said to you that night, I was wrong and I’ve realized how much I need you in my life,” he looked back up into yours eyes, “I can’t go on without you (Y/N), your the only good thing in this world. I love you.”

Even in the dark, you could see tears begin to from in his eyes and your heart began to melt by his words. You cracked a smile and walked towards him so that your faces were inches apart.

“I love you too.” You said in a whispered tone before connecting your lips together. The kiss started of sweet and passionate, but soon became harsher, the both of you desprate to make up for the time you’ve lost from each other. You broke the kiss for a moment, glancing up into his eyes. “Come inside?” You asked him as you slide your hand to his hand that held his cabby hat, snatching it and putting it on your own head.

He chuckled and nodded, finally feeling complete now that he had you once again.

[littleladymab]

OC Kiss Week - "War's Over"

Requested by @qt-kt, these are my Star Wars OCs  🥰 I'm in love with them a normal amount. Kaedmon is a Jedi (extremely former) who survived Order 66, and Uriah is an ISB agent (former). And yes I have like 2300 words of a rough timeline plotted for them.

Uriah will be up on the 21st for U and I've decided to replace one of my bonus characters at the end of the month with Kaedmon so you'll see her on the 27th for FebruarOC.

This is also the FIRST of the Kiss Week drabbles I wrote, and it is the longest. I decided to stick it at the end because it's just a good ending to the event! Thank you again so much to @ockissweek for organizing, best of luck with queuing everything, and I'm looking forward to next year!!

+++ 

Kaedmon pushes her way through the crowds, the death grip on her lightsaber hilt the only thing keeping her focused. It’s using all her concentration to keep the pain at bay, and if she lets that slip then she’ll lose the grip on it and with it any sense of composure she’s maintaining.

“Riley!” Someone grabs her by the shoulder and whirls her to face them, and it’s only because her hand is so numb that she doesn’t ignite the blade and run the Rodian through on instinct. “Woah, girl, breathe.”

She is breathing, her gasping inhales stymied by the respirator. She doesn’t feel like she’s breathing enough. “Vleewa,” she says as her brain catches up. Her heart rate doesn’t seem to be slowing down.

“I didn’t know you were here,” Vleewa says conversationally, pulling the lightsaber free. “When did you arrive on Jakku?”

“Where are the prisoners?” Stop, try again. “I got here yesterday.” Stop, try again. What was she looking for? “Observatory.” No. Stop. Try again. “Please.”

Starburst black eyes study her, and Kaedmon is helpless against the gentle movements her friend makes to put the lightsaber away in the holster. “You need to go to medical,” she says instead of whatever else she wants to say.

Kaedmon’s entire right arm aches at the thought. Is her shoulder dislocated? It might be dislocated, her wrist is definitely sprained, and now that she doesn’t have a deathgrip on something the numbness is turning to a violent tingling pain. There’s worse things that could have happened to it. Clamp it down, center her mind, pain is a backdrop. “I need to find—”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.” Still, Vleewa doesn’t seem too keen on hurrying up as she begins to scroll through something on her data pad.

Kaedmon tries to breathe. Didn’t Vleewa tell her to breathe? She’s trying. She inhales. She inhales. She inhales, because it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, and she knows the respirator is working because she can feel it struggling to give her oxygen. This is how I’m going to die, she thinks deliriously as her vision swims and Vleewa’s tan coveralls blend into the tan sand. Having a panic induced asthma attack in the desert after the war is finally over.

There’s a beep on her vambrace that draws her out of her spiral and she looks down at it as Vleewa gives a self-satisfied smirk. “Second recon group, northern forward camp. Though promise me you’ll go to medical after?”

“Yeah. Sure,” she answers for the sake of answering.

“Ugh, Jedi,” Vleewa grumbles with a roll of her eyes but there’s a twitch of a smile on the Rodian’s face. “Go on then.”

Kaedmon slips back into the crowds before she’s even completely dismissed, occasionally glancing down at the map on her vambrace. Nearly four klicks north by north east. If she runs she can make it in half an hour. Except that her shoulder sends bolts of pain down her entire arm if it is jostled, and like any military base she’s been on there are people by the dozens milling around in some state of activity.

Small fighters are taking off and landing with little regard to available landing fields, commanders barking out orders, and pilots and infantry cheering and celebrating.

Over every comm, Mon Mothma’s announcement rings on a repeat. A few holos loop the signing of the treaty.

The war is over.

Wrapping her pain in a tight little bundle in the back of her mind, Kaedmon begins to run.

The northern forward camp is eerily calm, pinched faced officers moving with determination and soldiers standing guard around the orderly ranks of tents for political prisoners.

In a makeshift square, three uniformed commanders stand fanned out around someone in piecemeal trooper armor. He stands at attention, hands folded behind his back, fingers of one hand clenching and unclenching. They don’t seem to be interrogating him — more like they are engaged in an exchange of information.

The man in the middle, a major according to the insignia, frowns at her approach. “Master Riley,” he starts and she winces; now all Command knows her as is the rank she never took. “Captain Askoaro said to expect you—”

But the man with his back to her tenses at the first sound of her name and spins to face her.

It’s him, she realizes with a jolt, as the shape of his profile comes into view. His hair is shaved to grey-black stubble and his cheeks are gaunt. But even without the Force to carry his signature to her, she’d recognize him.

“Kae,” Uriah says, completing his about-face just as she throws her good arm around his shoulder and yanks him down to her. He folds one arm around her waist and the other hand in her hair and crushes her to him. He tucks his face against her neck, pressing the edge of her mask into her cheek but she doesn’t care.

“You’re alive,” she gasps and his fingers tighten their grasp. “I couldn’t get through. No one could tell me—”

“Full planet communications are still spotty, Master Riley,” the major says, clearing his throat and the two of them jerk back upright to attention. He doesn’t seem overly bothered by their break in protocol or Kaedmon’s belated left-handed salute. “It has been hard to disseminate information unless it is vital to the New Republic.”

Kaedmon is still having a hard time regaining her breath, and it sounds loud in her ears as she tries to get herself back under control. She never was very good at that even as a Padawan. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to imply that I should automatically have been made aware of things.”

He waves her off, then says, “Agent Marcos, we’ll continue this discussion later. Take a few minutes. You’re dismissed.”

Uriah salutes, and a second behind, Kaedmon does as well. “Thank you, Major Wadan. I’ll report back to you shortly.” He waits until the three officers have departed before turning back to Kaedmon. That’s when the full extent of the damage is finally revealed in the shape of an angry red wound where his right eye should be.

She inhales sharply and reaches up to him with her hand, pressing it to his cheek and studying the still-healing scar.

He allows for the inspection, holding her gaze steady with the remaining eye before covering her hand with his own and pressing his lips to her palm. “What did you do to your arm?”

“I don’t know,” she says and means to shrug but she doesn’t want to jostle the hand on his face and the other is a dull, constant ache. “Dislocated I think. Maybe broke something. Worst part was, it was my own fault.” She lets the tips of her fingers ghost over his cheekbone. “That was my favorite eye.”

His huff of laughter ghosts over her skin and she shivers despite the heat. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Kaedmon frowns though he can’t see the twitch of her lips.

Uriah presses the pad of his thumb to the furrow between her brows. “I didn’t know you were stationed on Jakku.”

“I wasn’t. Jedi business in the Observatory with all that Sith shit. Happened to find a pocket of leftovers.”

“That’s when you caught your fall on your arm?”

She clicks her tongue, though it sounds mechanical and emotionless through the vocoder. “And your eye?”

He doesn’t respond right away, sliding his hand back through her hair despite the fact that it’s coated in sweat and sand. “Shrapnel. My own fault. I panicked.”

They move together, his forehead pressing to hers as her fingers scrape uselessly for purchase on his pauldron before curling around his neck. “My Commander finally caught on when we fled Coruscant. I thought he was going to kill me. He fully intended to, blaster to the eye. Bam.”

His fingers press to the ridges of her spine, grounding both of them in the moment. “I managed to use something as a shield, but it shattered. Still lost the eye, but I kept the back of my head so I guess that’s a win.”

This time her shiver is far from pleasant as she reaches out into the Force to take his fear in her hands and lift it from his shoulders. “What a pair we make.”

“I think we deserve a nice vacation somewhere that won’t try to kill us, and the worst thing we fall into is a soft bed,” he agrees.

“And a pillow to the face.”

Uriah considers this before nodding in agreement. “Honestly, it sounds awful and incredibly unsafe.”

“We’ll never unlearn how to turn anything into a weapon,” Kaedmon warns and Uriah lets out a soft sigh before pressing a kiss to her forehead. She makes an answering strained sound of frustration before pulling back to yank her respirator down. The dust feels like it immediately clings to the inside of her nose and mouth but she doesn’t care.

She misses his hair as she cups the back of his head and pulls him down to kiss her.

“Take me home, Kae,” he says, lips against hers. “When we get clearance to get off this fucking rock.”

Her respirator wheezes out of time to their ragged breathing. “I will,” she promises. “Maybe even before then.”

His smile is weary and his face hasn’t learned how to take the missing eye into account when forming expressions, but it’s still everything she knows and recognizes and the sight of it is instantly comforting. “Maybe.”

Home, she thinks as he kisses her again. They’ll figure that out together.

[queeniecook]

May 15

Jillian feels awful that she had to leave her getaway with Dakota but she had to. It isn’t like her Dad not to come home. He goes away on business trips due to his career from time time but doesn’t just take off. That is not Garrett Ambrose. Thankfully her boyfriend is a very understanding man, especially when it comes to family. She’ll have to find a way to make it up to him.

After taking a bus, renting a car and getting lost a few times, Jillian finally arrives at her families’ latest residence in San Sequoia. They have moved from Tartosa last month, due to a change in her Dad’s job. She is tired, she’s been up for hours but still fixes her appearance in the rearview mirror of her rental car before going to the front door.

“I’m so sorry I called you honey but I was so worried about your father! He finally showed up late last night, went to bed and got up this morning to go to work.” Denise explains. Jillian can tell her Mom does feel bad about worrying her but obviously, something is going on.

“It’s okay, Mom. Really.” Jillian assures her Mom, not wanting to tell her that she was moments away from finally making love with Dakota. That would be awkward. “Has this been happening a lot?”

“Not like this last time. Garrett has always shown up before bed time if he goes out after work.” Denise shares, she rarely calls her husband Garrett to their kids. That alone worries Jillian because it’s obvious her Mom is concerned. “He smelled like a bar. He’s been smelling like a bar a lot, Now I’m not one to be a prude but…”

“I’ll talk to him.” 

A few hours later, both Garrett and Andrew walk in the front door. It has began to pour down rain outside.

“Hey Jilly Bean!” Her Dad greets her, as always. He plops down beside her as her baby brother stalks into the room, cranky from high school.

“So Dad, where were you the other night?” She questions.

“Eh, I was just playing pool with a few guys from work.” Her Dad responds before being cut off by her brother. “He came in drunk. I didn’t tell Mom because I didn’t want to worry her. I made him drink some water before he went to their bedroom.” 

“I wasn’t drunk.” Garrett objects.

“You walked into my room and tried to climb into bed with me! You called me Denny!” Andrew exclaims. Garrett shakes his head as his teenage son marches off to his room, holding his homework in a deathgrip at his side.

Garrett stands up from the couch and Jillian follows him. “You thought he was Mom?”

“It was dark. I’m not used to the layout of this house yet. I wasn’t drunk.” Her Dad insists. Jillian doesn’t believe him. It’s becoming to clear to her that her Dad has developed a problem that he’s not ready to admit to.  “I’m going to go shower while your Mom makes dinner. Maybe go check on your brother?”

After helping Andrew with his history lesson, she challenges him to pillow fight in his barely decorated room. She’s a bit worried about not only her parents but her brother too. This has to be a lot for him to handle.

“DINNER!!” Denise hollars from the kitchen. It briefly made Jillian feel like she was sixteen again, living in Glimmerbrook and worrying about if she was going to get her hands on a copy of the latest Henry Puffer book. Then reality came slamming back down on her. 

Still, it was nice to set down with her parents and brother to eat a family dinner. She isn’t sure what to do about the current situation.

[lightyearssurrogatedaddy]

LOOK. AT. HER. I. LOVE. HER.

So for a while now the idea of a media/film themed sans has been freely orbiting my brain. She's not a sans, but she's related to some. I didn't really mean to make her into a shipchild, that's my bad I got a little carried away, but it's a more than ignorable fact that I can live with.

I promised I'd never make a shipchild, but then again I promised I'd leave this fandom forever. So I guess promises to myself never work out.

more about her:

-Her kisses sound like camera shutters and her voice is very grating. She sounds like a 50yo smoker. (the radio voice flux got rebuked) -She's the 'preservation of the past' (vultures are associated with dead things, things that are 'in the past now', and cameras which capture a moment in time). In a household with people stuck in their own heads over what went wrong in their lives. -She knows everyone's backstory except Nightmare's because she fears they'll catch her taking photos. ('everyone' as is Just the Goons and Only them) -In order to read into someone's past she needs to take as many photos of them as she can, from every angle and lighting, every facial expression, etcetc. She can't activate her ability on the spot, and needs dark rooms, like a film developing room, to roll a tape. -'Roll a tape', the backstories she gathers come out in long rolls of film she can pop into a projector and watch. -Her magic takes a lot out of her. Depending on how long the tape is, she can be weakened from a week to a month. Her magic doesn't come in any other forms.

*Little Birdy, HP 40, ATK 3, DEF 25. Easy as cracking an egg.

Her past telling is not 100% accurate. When watching one of her tapes you'll get the general gist of what happened, but for anything that's not a major plot beat is usually a little icky.

Audio is the least likely to get screwed up, but when it does it has the same vibe as, 'been through Google Translate at least twice.'

Color is in the middle, when it comes out wrong it's commonly in black and white or high contrast.

Visual is the most likely. Even in her visions she can't see shit. The tape comes out looking spotty and characters will randomly ragdoll or glitch out at inappropriate times.

She lives in the walls and her film room is in an attic. Most of the info on this page is either still being pondered about or doesn't really apply anymore in the timeframe of 6hours since I drew this. She's still in development so things are prone to change, yk. Take it with a grain of salt.

She calls people 'sticky'/stinky, her version of 'bukko' or 'pal'

My inspo for her design came directly from Lady Gaga and Cruella De Vil, both my childhood idols. Lady Gaga influenced the general vibe in my mind rather than the drawing itself.

"Why does she like Pepper Steak when it's not even a poultry dish?" childhood food+so I can listen to Pepper Steak from the OFF soundtrack and look at her at the same time.

"Why is she called 'little birdy?" because of the phrase, 'a little bird told me...' to reference her past telling abilities.

Yes she's wearing boxers, c'mon guys she may live in a shithole but she's not a heathen.

About the climbing thing. She does have great balance but she can't scale a sheer cliff. Her talent lies in getting to the top of the bookshelf or maneuvering her way through the walls. She doesn't have the balls to climb around the outside, but she'll do it in a pinch.

She's very grabby. A little spoiled. If she doesn't get what she wants she won't cry at you, instead she'll sneak into your room late at night and steal shit that you hold valuable. And THEN go get whatever she wanted without your help.

Damn, most of the immediate characters in utmv are stinky smelly little gremlins. Here she is next to a discord moderator. I kept deathgripping the air in front of him and glaring.

[recurring-polynya]

Writing Update/Art Update 5/9/2023

Many things happened last week. Not very many of them were drawing. I'll get back to that.

I have finally started posting the big (it's not really big. Medium-big. It just felt big) fanfic that I have working on for most of the year. You can start here if you want to read it, Chapters 1-3 are currently available.

I finished the smut. I had mostly finished it by Friday, but then we had a belated-because-we-were-waiting-for-spring-weather backyard birthday party for my daughter this past weekend, so I had to spend a solid 48 hours in the paralyzing deathgrip of anxiety at the prospect of socializing with people I don't know (the parents of some of my daughter's classmates), so I didn't get much of anything else done, although I did clean my house and buy a bunch of hot dogs.

I only got one doodle done this week, which took me three days, spread out over the anxiety deathgrip, but I'm pretty pleased with how it came out. I really would like to start on a more serious project this week, but I may get back to them, we'll see how it goes. I do want to thank everyone who sent in prompts, and I'm sorry I haven't gotten to more of them. Turns out I'm real bad at doing quick, fast-turnaround doodles! Is anyone surprised??

After that, like, I said, I finished up the porno. I was hoping to post it yesterday, but it was pretty late at night by the time I finished my editing sweep. Today was a go places posting day and I didn't really want to post two different fanfics in one day, plus I had made kind of a lot of edits, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to let it sit a day and then do another sweep before posting. In other words, tomorrow, probably.

This morning, I re-read what I've gotten written so far of Ductwork, which is the working title of the next story in the Heart is a Muscle. It's 7707 words at the moment, and I get hot mad every time I read it because I want there to be more of it, and unfortunately, there is only one way to make that happen. But it's gonna!! I keep telling myself that it was really worthwhile to have taken the time to write go places first, because Ductwork is largely about Rukia and Renji finally digging down into a lot of festering insecurities from that time in their afterlives. I have a couple different approaches to writing these days, and I'm gonna try to do the thing that ended up working for go places, which is 1) try to write something every day, 2) chronological schmonological, write whatever I can possibily come up with, I'll just cram it all together at the end, this was very fun and easy last time and definitely did not take six drafts and a color-coded spreadsheet. Based on past experience, I do not think I am going to be able to power through to completion, so my goal is to add at least 20k words to the thing before I flame out in a blaze of beautiful depression and spend the rest of the summer on something insane, like bringing back the Soul Society Tattoo Artist AU. My overall prediction is that it will be around 60k, but I'm not discounting the possibility that it could be another 100k-er. (it better not go over 120k tho, I will die for real)

Anyway, that was my week! Whew!

[whippoor-wont]

I was tagged by @yoiku for this "Get To Know You" meme! Thanks for the tag, and sorry it took me so long to get to it OOPS

let's see here...

Last song: My memory says it was ...a song off the middle-ish of Hounds of Love (Kate Bush) bc I was listening to it last night and fell asleep. Maybe Under Ice? I don't know. But if you ask Spotify it was BLACKTIGER by Oborataebi!

If you're reading this now this is your call to go look them up on Youtube bc they delight me so much- they're a Japanese funk/psychadaelic/???? band that have these incredible shrimp super bright shrimp costumes (Their band name is Drowned Shrimp! / Autopsy Report of a Drowned Shrimp in english) and they put on really fun high-energy performances and I love to watch them. They only have one of their albums on Spotify, but they more music on youtube, including a lot of recordings of their live performances, which I highly recommend checking out. I love these shrimp..... I mean look at em ...

This article has some more really great pictures of them, and here's their youtube channel!

Currently Reading: I just started reading the Ambergris trilogy by Jeff Vandermeer at the recommendation of my roommate! I'm not really far enough in to say much about it other than "i would bet actual money something horrible is about to happen to this shit idiot missionary guy" LMAO I'm also rereading Trigun: Maximum for #trigunbookclub but. I am like a chapter and a half behind at this point, OOPS

Currently Watching: Nothing in particular, actually- I've got a list for sure, but I've not sat down to watch anything in a while. I need to finish Quantum Leap- both the new one and the original show, and I just got the Doctor Who seasons w/ 9 and 10 that I really want to rewatch soon. And I'll be watching Gundam Witch from Mercury with a friend here soon! I could probably go on about other shows i maybe wanna watch soon for paragraphs but these are the ones in the front of my brain haha

Current Obsession: Trigun.................. specifically the manga, but god. This series has a deathgrip the likes of which no media has Ever really had on me? Like ever? I dunno what it is but I'm here for the long haul and I've made more art of individual characters than I typically do of Any fanart I make for other things I've enjoyed in the past LOL. Usually my fixation is firmly on OCs with a background noise of whatever media I'm enjoying at the moment but NOT THIS TIME

Tagging: @breserker @japaneesee @mustielsen @genderfluid-chameleon @sarahtheconjurer AND WHOEVER ELSE i feel bad tagging so many ksdjfghk- I'D BE DELIGHTED IF U HOPPED IN

[astrophelstella]

Worthy

Genre: One shot, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

"Defeat me, command me to step aside, show me that you are worthier than I to rescue him."

There was a pause. A great silence between them stretched on as the words sunk in to her head. She needed to process them again as something brewed in her chest. It's as if time had stopped.

A snap.

"How dare you."

It was spoken like a whisper, but it could still be heard. There was incredulous belief as she spoke.

Star pupil eyes stared back at her. Slightly taken aback by her words.

"How dare you." In a flash of electro, she moved as lighting, and grabbed his neck.

A loud crack! could be heard as she slammed him into the closest wall. The force of which caused massive damage, leaving cracks behind where his body was thrown into. She kept his deathgrip on his neck, no doubt leaving bruises. Thunder was heard in the distance, reflecting her feelings.

He began choking for air as he looked at her face.

Golden eyes glowed inhumanly at him but the major notice was the unmistakable, unrelenting rage burning in them. As if they were windows to the pits of hell. They no longer looked human. Lumine no longer looked like the righteous Traveler. But something far less human. Less good.

"What gives you the right to say that to me? Bough keeper." She said the last word like a curse. "What gives your the right to judge me? You. Are. A. Blink. In our lives."

Dainsleif had never expected someone like Lumine to regard him with such a look. Or to even have this outburst. There was geo energy trapping his limbs and anemo stealing the breath from his lungs, electro energy sending dangerous sparks close to his face.

“I am his other half! His sword! His sister! The last of kin and the only one who has his safety in mind!" Somehow, she pushes him even further into the wall. Almost histerical in speaking. The pain made him claw at her hand. "He's been by my side since the day I was born. Our bond forged through centuries of traveling through worlds. We've faced wars, gods, extinction- FATE. What makes your measly 500 years of being travel buddies in anyway equal?! You couldn't even save him from the Abyss! Yet you have the audacity, the DELUSION that you could even come between us!?!"

Her companion, Paimon's shrill voice could barely be heard, as she shouted at Lumine to get a hold of herself. But to the blondes, it barely registered. Too caught up in the altercation. They didn't even notice she flew off to get help.

She turned and threw him onto the ground where he gasped air into his burning lungs. The pain on his back stung as he tried to get up but was left hacking for air.

"I understand your-"

She kicked him in the face, sending him back. "YOU DO NOT UNDERSTAND ANYTHING!"

His collar was grabbed before he could recover and he was brought face to face with those burning eyes once again. He had the faintest feeling he had crossed a line that no one in Teyvat had managed with the kind hearted Traveler.

"I have the only right. Hear me, Twilight Sword?" Said like an insult again. "I had hoped my brother was only wrong about you, blinded by emotions and circumstance to see you as an enemy. But if this is how you see things... Then I see his point."

She looked like she wanted to kill him.

Fortunately, an interruption.

"Traveler, that's enough." Tighnari, with a scared and horrified Paimon peeking over his shoulder, spoke. He sounded like he was approaching a wounded animal. "Please let him go. I dont know what's going on but you need to calm down."

At the presence of one of her friends, her grip tightened, glancing furiously at him and glaring at Dain, before slacking. Releasing his hold he fell back.

"Leave. Don't show up again."

Another twin had come to hate him.

With Dain gone Tighnari led her back to the camp, as gentle and soothing as he could. With plenty of experience to mitigate the leftover rage she felt. Paimon was uncharacteristically quiet.

"Are you okay to tell me what happened back there?" He asked, carefully, and setting down some incense pots. The scent smelled refreshing. "I've never seen you lose it like that."

She didn't want to at first. But this entire ordeal had left her mind in a mess. She never spoke about her brother’s situation openly and especially her feelings, but she felt like an explosive barrel about to explode. So she told him. What Dainsleif said, her brother’s situation, her history, her reaction.

"He doesn't get to say that." She pressed. There was less anger and more pain. "He doesn't. I was the closest thing to him. I'm the one who's going to bring him home and everything will go back."

Tighnari doesn't say anything as he listens to her. That's when Paimon inevitably speaks up.

"Traveler... you've never lost control before. You can't let what Dain says affect you so much."

Lumine turned away, staring out into the horizon.

"Why did it affect you so much?"

"What? Because he-"

"You have incredible discipline over your emotions. I've seen it during fights, as you battle gods, face atrocities, even during your mission to overthrow the Akademiya. You never had an outburst. Your principles and beliefs are almost unshakable, clearly. If what he said was so wrong, you simply would have told him so." He stared at her back, refusing to see his gaze. "Why lose it over a simple statement. Unless some part of you believes it."

Did I fail him? Should I have woken up sooner? Was I distracted by everything?

What if we both disagree in the end?

"Traveler." A comforting hand on ber shoulder. "You are worthy. You have every right to find your brother again. Whatever doubts you have, they are unfounded."

Are they?

"Tighnari's right. But what made you start thinking you couldn't save your brother..." Paimon trailed off. "Was it what Lesser Lord Kusanali said?"

"Lesser Lord..."

You're brother hails from Teyvat.

Have our fates changed, brother?

She walked away, sword appearing in a flash if light. She needed fight something.

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

Note: I changed the original line from the trailer from 'her' to 'him' since this refers to Lumine as Traveler.

Just a short snippet I made. I wished we saw the traveler get more personal like this. The closest thing we got was during the Sumeru quest. Sorry if this is OOC btw, still new to writing for Tighnari and Lumine. I just wanted Traveler to snap for once.

Also, I know there's a possibility that Dain wasn't talking about the abyss sibling when he said that line in the Travail trailer. But I wrote this wondering what the Traveler's reaction would be if it was. Bc the AUDACITY OF THIS TWINK-

[ghosttbeef]

wait i have to tell you all about the thrilling saga of Finch and her little Babyguy that's been gripping me and my roommates' group chats. So, Finch is my beloved little tabby cat that is the largest handful of a beast i have ever had the pleasure of sharing my home with and Babyguy is her favorite little mouse or perhaps fish (there is much debate about this.) that she likes to carry around. She doesn't really have a noticeable preference for other toys so we were quick to name this one

her relationship to Babyguy is very.... yknow that one post about the kid that soaked their webkinz in milk and threw it against the wall a lot? It's like that. Finch's favorite Babyguy activities are

Walk around with him in her mouth in the dead of night and wail hauntedly like the ghost of a drowned victorian orphan

Violently swinging and throwing him around (This is how i assume he lost his tail)

Repeatedly curb-stomping him in the hallway. Like, she does that rabbitkick thing cats do but while standing on him. It's incredible I've never seen a cat do that before.

Drown him and hide him somewhere.

The drowning thing quickly became an issue because a.) she would get her water bowl disgusting immediately by dunking him in there and b.) she kept leaving his sopping wet body around for me to discover by stepping on him wetly in the middle of the night. So, I had to confiscate him so he could dry (which took two entire days the first time.) because she clearly loves and cares about him deeply I returned him and. well. she drowned him within an hour

thus began the endless cycle of me confiscating Babyguy to dry, returning him, and Finch drowning him again. She is always overjoyed to get him back and always drowns him within a day- though she is starting to wise up to the fact that I will take him away- she even tucked him into my laundry once for nappies safe keeping.

Babyguy is now crusty and misshapen but that doesn't put a damper on Finch's ...devotion? to him? But now whenever he's out I am giving people the play by play on what's happening with him, whether or not he gets drowned, etc etc. it's really something. Idk why it's got us all in a deathgrip but it Sure Does. One of my beloved friends and coworkers even became Babyguy in our group chat

here, more photos of finch and babyguy for your troubles also

[toxic-potions-productions]

“Lying to a mafia boss never ends well” (Helluva boss) (Impsona)

So, thanks to Character.AI having a deathgrip on me, I’m changing the story of how Chaz joined Alex’s posse after playing with a Chaz character AI as Alex

Let me tell you, character.ai is so much fucking fun, I stayed up until 5 in the morning playing on it one night

Shoutout to Mason-Is-Here for making an awesome Chaz A.I. You rock, brother!

So, instead of meeting right after Chaz almost gets torn apart after the wedding debacle, Alex doesn’t confront him & convince him to join right away. Instead it happens about a week or two later after that whole thing. Alex is at a bar in Lust looking for a target & in comes Chaz after running away from Greed & starting a new life in Lust. He did see her back at Crimson’s estate, but by this point he forgot about her & Crystal. But, she didn’t.

After trying to break the ice with someone as cold as Alex, Chaz hears something from her he thought only Crimson found out about. He told her how he left Crimson’s posse, which sounded like a cover story, & Alex just whispers to him how she knew he lied about having some dough. Chaz looked mad at that as he looked at her, but that anger turned into fear when she grabs him, hence this picture right here. It wasn’t hard to see she had complete control over him.

& instead of being hesitant about joining when she asks about it, he was ecstatic to take that offer & have a second chance. & that’s when things got a little better for our favorite horny shark man

For the record, it’s just Alex at this bar. Crystal doesn’t meet him (Not in a disguise, anyway) until he comes to Alex’s estate the next day. & yes, Alex did get her target while she was there

& fun fact: Alex’s text was actually copied & pasted from what I actually sent as Alex in that AI. I was lazy & actually kinda like how I worded that

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

Alexandra by: Me

Chazwick Thurman from: Helluva boss

Helluva boss by: Vivziepop

Do not steal, trace or copy.

[concernedlily]

cousins wip 5

pt 1

pt 2

pt 3

pt 4

The next day Arm asks him tentatively if he’d be willing to go back to the tower; Tankhun wants to see him. Porsche agrees, wearily: a couple of hours watching dramas with Tankhun sounds great, and he should check on Chay, who’s being incredibly cagey about when he expects to hear the results from his university interview.

“Porsche!” Tankhun screams when Porsche knocks on his door. He’s wearing a bright orange suit patterned with pink flowers which makes Porsche’s head hurt just to look at him. He grabs Porsche and is hugging him deathgrip tight before Porsche really knows what’s going on, and Porsche freezes for a second before he relaxes into it. He’s missed just being hugged; he was always roughly affectionate with Chay, and Jom and Tem and his college friends and the other bartenders, in a way he can’t possibly be with anyone at the minor family compound. And constant physical contact had been the hallmark of his relationship with Kinn. Kinn had never pushed him away, had seemed to enjoy closeness as much as Porsche does and initiated cuddles half the time. Porsche is still missing him desperately, still skin-hungry and cock-hungry for him, but he hadn’t realised how good it would feel to get back just a tiny sliver of what Kinn had given him in being held as long and tightly as he wanted whenever he wanted it.

“Sorry I haven’t been around much,” he says and tries a smile, moving aside a little so Arm can slip past him and go to embrace Pol, who’s still wearing a sling but otherwise is back in uniform.

“Call me phi,” Tankhun orders. “We’re cousins now! Or hia. I told Chay he can call me hia.”

Porsche blinks at that. He’s Chay’s hia and he’s not sure how he feels about sharing the title. It was just the two of them for so long, Arthee pulling back from their little unit as soon as Porsche was old enough to take responsibility for Chay for reasons Porsche understands now. In all the devastation it’s caused Porsche to find out that himself and Kinn and Korn are family, he hasn’t really considered at all that it could be a good thing, that it might be nice for Chay to have a bigger family, cousins he can rely on. 

It’s definitely no bad thing for Chay to have Tankhun as an ally and protector in the tower, until it’s safe for him to come and live with Porsche. After so long dismissed, left at home as the family eccentric while Kinn did the work, Tankhun is a combatant now. He might not have fought directly, but Porsche has no doubt that the news made it out of the attack that Tankhun had participated in repelling the attack on his home and family, and not in a way he and Arm had whipped up on the spot, either; it had been a planned, strategic defence. Without the distraction of the explosion when Porsche was pinned down under Vegas’ gun he’d probably be dead now, Kinn following soon after and spending the last minutes of his life destroyed by watching Porsche shot to death in front of him; Porsche won’t forget that, or underestimate Tankhun ever again. Neither will anyone else left in the tower, and they won’t mess with anybody who calls Tankhun big brother.

Tankhun sits Porsche down and flutters around having drinks brought and cushions plumped and blinds raised to the perfect light levels. Somehow Arm looks delighted to have these pedestrian tasks delegated to him by Pol, who sits down next to Tankhun with the usual familiarity, and Porsche leans back against the soft to the point of being overstuffed couch and lets it relax him. After the minor family household, he can recognise Tankhun’s arrangements more for what they are: chaotic, but controlled chaos, not like the minor family compound which feels like driving a bike perpetually in the last second before leaning into a corner doing ninety turns into a wipeout. 

“How are the series?” he says, accepting a Virgin Mary. 

“Fine, fine,” Tankhun says. He sits next to Porsche and peers at him far too sensibly. “Not as good as the one happening in my very own house.”

“Are you going to tell me you’re sorry we broke up too? Your father seemed surprised we didn’t just keep on,” Porsche says bitterly. 

“Oh, well, Papa,” Tankhun says, looking inscrutable. “I am sorry, though. Kinn’s heart is broken. If it was any other circumstance I’d have had Arm smother you in your sleep at that other house.”

Behind him Arm looks surprised to hear this. Porsche glances at him and Arm shakes his head frantically. 

“Great to know,” he says and slumps further into the cushions. 

“He really is heartbroken,” Tankhun says, raising his chin and giving Porsche a staunch look, and Porsche remembers how happy Kinn had said his brother was when Kinn had admitted to being in love with Porsche, how immediately he’d supported them and helped sway their father towards accepting their relationship. Knowing what he knows now Porsche wishes desperately that Korn hadn’t let himself be swayed, but that’s not Tankhun’s fault. 

“I’m heartbroken,” he says softly. “But what else is there to do?”

Tankhun sighs and pulls his feet up under him on the couch, curling his lanky body up small. “I know. You have to let us be sorry, Porsche. What happened with Tawan - well, what we thought happened with Tawan, changed him. I don’t want to lose him like that again. Big brother to big brother, I know you understand that.”

It’s strange thinking of Tankhun as a big brother. Kinn is the one who acts as the eldest in almost every way that matters. But Tankhun cares about his brother, maybe even more than Kinn can given he has to think of them as a business as well as family. 

“I’m trusting you not to let him change like that again,” Porsche says. “You have to be his heart now. I’ve still got his back. I always will.”

“Ah Porsche,” Tankhun murmurs. “You’re too good for this life of ours, you know that? It’s going to ruin you.” His eyes are wet when Porsche looks at him and he takes the handkerchief Pol offers him anxiously and dabs theatrically at his eyes. 

Porsche feels ruined already, like killing that first man was a drop of ink on water and now everything in him is dark and blurry. Between the raid on the Italians and the attack on the compound Porsche doesn’t even <I>know</I> how many people he’s killed now. The person he was three months ago wouldn’t even recognise him. 

He shrugs and tries to sound matter of fact. “Turns out it was always my life, doesn’t it? If my mother hadn’t taken us away…”

Although she had. And Porsche had walked himself and Chay back in, with a good hard shove from Korn via Arthee and his debts. 

“Nice woman, Aunty,” Tankhun says. “She must have been smart, before.”

“You’ve met her?” Porsche says sharply. 

“I had my father take me up there,” Tankhun says. “Imagine! A woman living in my attic all this time! Just like the series. She has an artist’s eye. I go up every morning now to show her my outfits.”

“Okay,” Porsche says. He’s not sure it is okay, actually, but what can he do? He doesn’t live here anymore and while his prints are on the lock to his mother’s room now, it’s still under Korn’s control. He can’t order Tankhun kept out. And maybe it’s nice for his mother to have more contact; Tankhun is noisy and demanding, but he’s easy enough to deal with as long as he’s kept occupied. Although - “Does Chay know you do?” he says. “I haven’t even taken him up there yet. I didn’t think either of them would be ready.”

“Sweet Chay,” Tankhun says. “No, he doesn’t know. Don’t worry, I’m taking good care of him. You let me finish raising him up. You’ve got enough to worry about.”

“I‘ll never have too much to worry about not to raise Chay,” Porsche says firmly. 

“Mm,” Tankhun says. “Perhaps you should have a chat with him soon, then.”

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Porsche says. 

Pol protests from the other side of the couch, “Porsche, you can’t talk to master like that!”

“Pol, you can’t talk to Khun Porsche like that!” Arm protests from behind them. 

“Oohhhh!” Tankhun hollers, clapping his hands. “What a confusion! I don’t know if you officially becoming Kinn’s wife would’ve been better or worse for discipline.”

Porsche flinches, but he’s not going to be moved off his subject. “What did you mean about Chay,” he says. “What’s he told you?”

“You should ask him about university,” Tankhun says. He looks ridiculous and he sounds light, but the way he’s watching Porsche is anything but. “And Kim.”

“Kim - your brother Kim?” Porsche says, surprised. “What about him? I’ve never even met him.”

Tankhun tuts. “You’re as bad as your brother. You met him at the warehouse, when Chay was kidnapped. He went to help. He carried Chay out.”

Porsche vaguely remembers the guy who’d got Chay away, slender and heavily armed and not wearing a bodyguard uniform, but he’d been a little busy what with Big dying on him and Tawan’s attack and Vegas’ machinations and then almost getting exploded. “Why would he have gone to help? I thought he stayed away from everything,” he says, but the now-familiar feeling of being fucked over by Theerapanyakuls is already starting to burn in his chest. 

“Ask Chay. Another drink?” Tankhun says. 

“Yeah,” Porsche says, and rubs his hands over his face. “Add the vodka this time.”

***

He hears a guitar being listlessly strummed as he walks down the corridor towards the room where Chay lived, then didn’t live, then lived again, then didn’t live again, and now lives once more, and his heart twists with guilt. He’d never wanted to get Chay caught up in all this, but he had anyway and now if he believes Tankhun’s hints Chay is even more wrapped up than Porsche thinks, and Porsche - he hasn’t been the one raising Chay, not since leaving that letter behind. He needs to do better and it fills him with new resolve to sort out the minor family at least to a point where it’s safe enough to give his brother a home Porsche will never have to wake him at dawn to creep out of. 

He knocks on the door.

“Hia,” Chay says, sounding glad to see him, but - surprised. 

Porsche’s little brother should never have to sound <I>surprised</I> to see him. He’s fucked up. 

But he’s here now. 

“Porchay,” he says softly, and Chay’s smile trembles, and Porsche opens up his arms.